Page 6 of Sigils & Spells

Cambridge smiles, satisfied with my response. “Excellent. Keep working and let me know how it goes.”

During my lunch break, I catch a glimpse of the man who interviewed with Cambridge the same day I did.

I don’t know if he sees me, and I shut down a sudden urge to run after him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Bronze skin, dark hair, piercing brown eyes. Hispanic, I would guess, though of course I’m not certain. All I know is that he is beautiful, and I would like more than anything to get to know him better.

He’s tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and I can see tattoos from where his sleeves cut off the edges and lines of dark, black ink that somehow only make his arms that much hotter. My stomach flips as my stolen gaze carries over his arms and narrows down to a waist that makes me want to run my hands along the waistband of his jeans. His muscular thighs strain against the fabric of his jeans, and as he turns and walks away, I find myself staring at his ass.

Jesus. I am a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.

And it would be a bad idea to spend any part of my first week at a new job flirting with the other employees.

Right?

I shake my head and shove down my desire to follow the beautiful man.

Get back to work, Evie, I tell myself.You’ll have plenty of time to get to know him.

Whoever he is.

CHAPTER4

ANGEL

“I thoughtI was supposed to be protecting you,” I say with confusion as I watch Q and the other delivery guys load up the truck from the shipping yard docks. I don’t ask what it is in the boxes, and quite frankly, I don’t want to know.

Especially because whatever is in them has to be pretty illegal if my boss is askingmeto escort the truck to the warehouse.

“You are protecting me. And my name.”

“By riding shotgun on a truck.” I watch as one of the delivery guys slams the bed shut. The sound echoes in the air, only adding to the grim feel of the darkened alleys of the docks.

“By protecting what is valuable to me, Angel. Surely you do not disagree with my order.” Ivan speaks smoothly, coolly, and somehow that’s more menacing than if he’d actually threatened me.

“No, sir," I say solidly as my stomach flips. I know it’s only been a week, but I still get this twisted feeling in my gut on every job. I know my mother would tell me to listen to that gut, but I can’t. Not if I want to fix things for myself and my family.

Ivan must sense my dismay, because he slides his hand in his pocket like some Bond villain, producing a stack of bills that makes my eyes widen.

He casually counts the bills before handing me a small wad of cash.

I look at the cash from him. “What’s this for?” I ask cautiously.

“Your discretion, of course.” I stare at that stack of bills, and the twisting in my stomach lessens. I grab it before he changes his mind.

I’ve learned in the last month not to take Ivan’s generosity for granted. The man is fickle and subject to bouts of madness, but it isn’t my job to be his therapist.

So I nod in approval as the truck starts up, hurrying off as Q flashes the headlights.

“Oh, and Angel?” he calls to me, and I turn to face him, the headlights lighting him up like some goddamned superhero.

“Make sure my little witch has everything she needs, yeah?” he says.

I nod in agreement.

“Yes, sir.”

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