Page 21 of Azrael

I tossed my bag into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel.My hands trembled slightly as I turned the key.The Prospect pulled out of the lot, and I fell in behind him, keeping a careful distance between us.

The route he took was circuitous, seeming to take twice as long as it had on the way to the motel.I wondered if he was taking a deliberately convoluted path to confuse me or to ensure we weren’t being followed.

My mind drifted to Azrael.The intensity in his dark eyes when he’d told me I had a choice to make -- take my chances on my own or stay.I trusted him.Whether that was the right decision I couldn’t be sure.What I did know is that I’d been half in love with him before we’d ever met.The stories I’d heard had given me a big case of hero worship.When I’d first met Azrael, he’d lived up to his name.But since then, I’d seen his softer side.

The Prospect’s brake lights flashed, drawing me back to the present.We were approaching the front gate.I hadn’t really taken the time to pay attention to it.The gate was set into a high fence.The fence extended in both directions, topped with razor wire.Very welcoming.Of course, it also meant whoever was inside should be safe.

A man emerged from a small building beside the gate, hand resting casually on the gun at his hip.He nodded to the Prospect, then peered into my car.I met his gaze steadily, refusing to show fear.After a moment, he stepped back and pressed a button.The gate rolled open with a metallic groan.

Welcome to the Devil’s Boneyard.My new home.

The compound sprawled across what looked to be twenty or more acres.A large clubhouse dominated the center -- a low, sprawling building with motorcycles parked in neat rows outside.Smaller structures were scattered around it -- houses, garages, what looked like a workshop.Men in cuts moved purposefully between buildings.A few women lounged outside the clubhouse, wearing clothes that left little to the imagination.

The Prospect led me past the main cluster of buildings to a section that seemed more residential.Here, the houses were well-maintained, with actual yards and carports instead of dirt patches.He turned down a narrow drive and pulled up in front of a single-story house painted a deep blue with white trim.The same one Azrael had brought me to the night before.

I parked in the driveway and took a breath, trying to steady my nerves.The Prospect turned and drove back toward the clubhouse, leaving me alone.Well, not entirely.I’d parked next to Azrael’s bike, which meant he was inside waiting for me.

I took a deep breath and walked to the front door.It wasn’t locked.I pushed it open slowly and followed the sound of movement to the kitchen.And there he was.

Azrael leaned against the counter, a mug of coffee in his hand.He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders.His dark hair was damp, like he’d recently showered, and his equally dark eyes watched me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I wondered what job he’d been sent on, but he’d made it clear I wasn’t supposed to ask.He’d intended to go with me to the motel.Then at the last minute, he’d said he was sending someone to watch over me.He’d had weapons strapped to him and looked like he was about to go on a mission.But now he was back, and freshly showered.

The Angel of Death in his natural habitat, drinking coffee like a normal person.It reminded me of the breakfast he’d made that morning.For someone who killed people like it was just another day, he was oddly domesticated.

He flashed me a smile that transformed his face from intimidating to devastatingly handsome.“Welcome home,” he said, the words simple but holding meaning.

Home.This place wasn’t my home.My home was a third-floor apartment with a leaky faucet and a fire escape where I grew basil plants.This was a stranger’s house where I’d slept one night because said stranger had decided I needed protection.Yet something about the way he said it -- like he meant it -- made my stomach flip in a way I refused to examine too closely.

“Is it?”I asked, setting my bag down by the kitchen island.“Home, I mean.”

Azrael’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more considering.He took a slow sip of his coffee before answering.“For better or worse.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to respond.The kitchen was clean and surprisingly well-equipped.I hadn’t allowed myself time to really take anything in last night or this morning.So now, I did.A professional-grade range against one wall.Clean yet worn countertops.A knife block with handles worn from use.Homey and masculine at once.

“Coffee?”he asked, indicating the full pot behind him.

“Please.”My voice came out steadier than I felt.“Although, if this is truly my home now, we’re going to need some creamer.Preferably hazelnut flavor.”

He reached for a mug in the cabinet above his head, the movement causing his shirt to ride up and reveal a strip of tanned skin and the edge of what looked like a tattoo.I averted gaze eyes, suddenly fascinated by the grain of the hardwood floor.

The heat from the ceramic seeped into my palms as I clutched it like a lifeline.“I should put my things away.”

“Same room as last night,” he said, pushing off from the counter.“Come on.”

I followed him down the hallway, noticing the door at the end of the hall, half-open, revealing a king-sized bed with rumpled dark sheets.We stopped at the room where I’d spent the previous night.

It wasn’t large, but it was comfortable.A double bed with a navy comforter.A dresser with a mirror.A small closet.A window that overlooked the side yard with its scrubby grass and lone oak tree.The sheets had been changed, I noticed.The ones I’d slept on had been white.These were a soft gray.

“I’m sure you remember the bathroom’s across the hall,” Azrael said, leaning against the doorframe.“Use whatever you need and make a list of anything you’re missing.”

“Thank you.”I set my coffee on the dresser and placed my bag on the bed.“For all of this.I know you didn’t have to --”

“Yes, I did.”His voice was firm, allowing no argument.“But the choice was yours.I wasn’t going to force any of this on you.”

I wanted to tell him I could take care of myself, but the memory of the men in the alley last night was still too fresh.If Azrael hadn’t stepped in, they’d have raped me.Possibly killed me.

“I need to get the rest of my stuff from my apartment,” I said.“And I need to figure out what to do about my rent.And my job.I can’t just disappear.”

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