Page 20 of Azrael

It was going to be a delicate balance.But as I caught Charming’s eye across the room and saw him nod in acknowledgment, I knew there was no turning back.Zara Colton was mine now, for better or worse.

And God help anyone who tried to hurt what was mine.

Chapter Six

Zara

The Prospect -- I hadn’t bothered learning his name -- drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping an impatient rhythm against his thigh.I stared out the window, watching unfamiliar streets blur past, trying to process how quickly my life had careened off its predictable path.Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been a regular woman with a regular job and a regular apartment.Now I was riding in a club truck with a man who wore a leather cut that read “Prospect” on the back, heading to collect my belongings before moving in with a man people called the Angel of Death.

“You good?”the Prospect asked, shooting me a sidelong glance.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.What was there to say?That I was terrified?That a man named Azrael had declared I was under his protection -- and apparently that meant living under his roof for the rest of my life?In all fairness, hehadgiven me a choice.Not much of one, but still…

The truck smelled like cigarettes and pine air freshener, an odd combination that made my nose twitch.The Prospect had a tattoo creeping up his neck -- some kind of twisted vine with thorns.His knuckles were scabbed over, evidence of a recent fight.These were the kinds of details I used to only notice in movies about dangerous men.Now they were my reality.

“Charming says you’re important,” he said, breaking the silence.“Says Azrael’s claimed you.”

I straightened in my seat.“It’s not like I’m luggage or a stray puppy.He’s protecting me.”

The Prospect snorted.“Claim.Protect.Same thing in our world, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” I snapped.

To his credit, he grinned rather than took offense.“Yep.You’ll fit right in with the old ladies.”

I bit back another retort.This wasn’t the time to make enemies, especially not with someone who was apparently loyal to the man who now controlled my immediate future.I’d been clear with Azrael that I wasn’t ready for a real relationship with someone I’d just met.He’d said we could take things slowly, but what if he changed his mind?

The Prospect pulled into the motel parking lot, a run-down place where I’d spent the night before Azrael had swooped in to save me.

“I’ll wait here,” he said, putting the truck in park.“Don’t take forever.”

I rolled my eyes and climbed out.The sun beat down mercilessly, making the faded asphalt shimmer with heat.My room was on the ground floor, second from the end.The key card took three swipes before the light blinked green.

Inside, the air conditioner rattled and wheezed, barely cooling the stuffy room.I hadn’t unpacked much -- just enough for one night.My toothbrush on the bathroom counter.A change of clothes draped over the single chair.My phone charger plugged into the wall.

As I gathered my meager belongings, reality hit me like a slap.I was leaving my life behind.My apartment with its mismatched furniture and the balcony where I drank my morning coffee.My job at the accounting firm where I’d worked for three years.My book club that met every second Thursday.All of it suspended indefinitely.Probably forever.

“Fuck,” I whispered, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.The springs creaked beneath me.

I’d always thought of myself as strong, independent.The kind of woman who made her own choices and stood by them.Now I was being shuffled around like a chess piece by men with nicknames instead of real names, men who killed without hesitation and lived by a code I didn’t understand.

But what choice did I have?Azrael was my only chance at finding my mother.Now that my father was gone, she was all I had left.

I shoved the last of my things into my overnight bag and did one final sweep of the room.Nothing left behind.I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror for a long moment.I looked the same -- dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, wary blue eyes, lips pressed into a tight line.But everything had changed.

The Prospect was leaning against the truck when I emerged, smoking a cigarette.He dropped it and crushed it under his boot when he saw me.

“That it?”he asked, eyeing my single bag.

“I travel light,” I said.Most of my life was still in my apartment.

“You’ll need to get the rest of your stuff soon.Or rather someone will most likely be sent to retrieve it.Azrael won’t want you going back to your place alone.”

I ignored that and walked to the motel office to check out.The clerk barely looked up from her phone as I slid the key card across the counter.One more tie severed.

Back in the parking lot, I headed for my car -- a modest sedan that had never seemed smaller or more vulnerable than it did parked next to the massive club truck.

“Follow me,” the Prospect called.“Stay close.”

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