Page 223 of Never Fall for an Angel

“Don’t listen to her, sweetheart,” I coo, petting his head. He lays his chin on my leg, closing his eyes. “He saved me, in a way. Kind of like I saved him.”

“Well, I suppose he does love you.”

“Christian saved me, too.”

She sighs.

“He’s like one of my kids,” she grumbles. “He just pissed me off. Took my baby from me.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m not a baby anymore, Mom. I’m twenty-four.”

“You’ll always be my baby. Big, scary husband or not.”

MILA

It’s been three weeks since Mila was stabbed and three weeks with no news on the whereabouts of Sebastian. I’ve been hunting nearly every day and night, scouring the internet and calling in favors with old “friends”, but there’s been no trace of him.

Between that, the presence of my mother-in-law up until last night, and missing my wife, I’m on edge all the time. There’s not a moment that goes by that I’m not either thinking about killing the man who hurt her, or searching for him.

“You really think Collin was telling the truth?” Levi asks out of nowhere when we get back to my office. We just went through Collin’s room and other than a few pictures of my sister that pissed us both off, we found nothing that would give us any leads.

“I think he had no choice.”

Levi’s gaze snaps to mine, confused.

“What does that mean?”

I lower my voice, listening for the sounds of Mila in the house. She was reading in the nook of our bedroom across the house when I last saw her.

“It means he’s running out of options. You don’t stay hidden for this long and whoever’s doing this . . . it’s personal.”

“Could be someone you put away.”

I shake my head. “There are too many similarities. It doesn’t add up.”

“And what are you going to tell Mila? When this is over?”

“The truth. She needs to know.”

“Pretty fucked-up truth.”

“Got any better ideas?”

He chuckles under his breath, straightening.

“She’s tough. Scrappy. She can handle it.”

“Better not let her hear you say that,” I muse.

Just last night, at dinner, he’d called her scrap and I thought she was going to smash her plate over his head.

I can’t say it wouldn’t have been funny. Just that our dining room table has seen enough blood for the next hundred years.

“It’s her mother I’m worried about,” he grimaces. “That woman may as well lead our army. She’s got the balls for it.”

I chuckle. That sounds like Monica Parker.

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