Vicious Angel (Criminal Sins 2)

His smile only gets wider; those dimples deeper. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first, let’s get you the fuck out of here.” before I know what’s happening, Angel has his gun drawn and pointed at the back door on the other side of the limo. A long silencer is attached to the barrel and the loud thump that emanates from the weapon when he fires hardly even makes me flinch. I’m too shell shocked to be mad at the carelessness of him firing a gun just feet away from my face, especially when the locked door bursts open, giving me a way out of this death trap.

Angel pulls back out of the partition, disappearing for a split second before reappearing at the newly opened door. His hand reaches to me like a ladder out of hell.

For some reason, I hesitate to take it, but that hesitation only lasts for a split second, and in the blink of an eye, I’m rippled from the limo and pulled into his warm, muscular body.

Oh god, how I missed the heat of his chest.

Still, the bliss of feeling him again hardly masks the pain of his tug. “Ow!” The yelp escapes my lips as a sharp ache ripples up my wounded arm.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Angel growls, seemingly noticing my bandages for the first time. “What did they do to you!?” The fury in his voice is limitless, but he seems to holster it in favor of staying focused.

For a dream-like moment, I ignore everything else in the world. My cheek melts into his heaving chest and I can feel his heart beat—but Angel’s familiar musky scent is masked by the smell of fire. After a moment of reveling in his sudden return, I turn to the scene that stopped my motorcade.

Up ahead, in front of the two now blood covered limos that were leading my car to some unknown location, is a makeshift blockade of burning cars. The flames flicker up to the sky and a crowd of rioters dance around the bonfire.

I turn to look back behind us; a few brawny men in muscle shirts and ripped jeans are finishing off what remains of Dante’s security detail. The violence is swift but merciless. The streets run red with blood. My cheek instinctively digs back into Angel’s chest.

“Come on, we need to get out of here.”

I’m not given much time to process what’s going on. Pain rips through my arm as Angel tugs me away from the chaos. I scream in pain and Angel stops in his tracks. “Oh yeah, fuck. Sorry.”

He’s probably apologized more to me in the past two minutes than he ever has before. It’s almost weird, hearing a word like sorry come from his lips, but I don’t have time to linger on it. A split-second later, Angel has swept me off of my feet.

He whisks me from the fire and the blood like a stolen bride and I swear I hear the crowd of rioters start to cheer behind us.

That sound fades, though, and my ears rush with blood as we sprint down a tight alleyway. A surreal tint comes over the world. Is this really happening? Am I finally being freed from my nightmare?

We turn a tight corner and a truck swerves to a stop right in front of us. The world rushes back into focus as Angel rips open the back door and throws me inside.

I slide across the seat, but before I can hit the opposite door, Angel dives on top of me. His muscular torso covers me like a blanket of pure steamy heat. “Go!” he orders, and the squeal of racing tires accosts my ears.

My savior holds me tight as our escape vehicle twists and turns down the winding alleys of the slum village. His big round biceps flex around my aching body, holding me in place and protecting me from the violence of our getaway. As the car speeds around sharp corners, we’re thrown from side to side, but I don’t ever hit anything but Angel. He has me completely wrapped up. Even my pain seems to subside under his blissful grip.

My mind wants to go blank; my body wants to give in. There’s no ignoring the hardness growing between Angel’s legs; it pushes up against me like a rod of divinity. He wants me bad—and, fuck, I want him, too.

Suddenly, we come to a screeching halt. Angel’s vice grip around me eases as he pops a peak through the tinted window above us.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“Our second getaway vehicle is supposed to meet us here. We’re going to switch onto something a little more... compact.”

Somehow, I immediately know what he means. We’re about to get on a motorcycle. “Angel... I... I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold on.” I can hardly process the fact that he’s here in the flesh, but I gesture towards my bandages and daintily flex my sore limbs.

“What did they do to you?” he growls, a fury blazing behind his deep guttural voice.

“It wasn’t them,” I whisper. “It was me...”

Angel’s roughness suddenly softens as he places a tender palm against my cheek. His huge rough fingers caress my jaw as he pulls my gaze into his. The emerald green tint to his eyes digs deep into my soul and nearly makes me forget all of the anger I was harboring towards him just minutes ago.

He’s back... He’s finally back.

The steaming tiger studies me with great interest. It doesn’t take long for the concern in his gaze to give way to desire. That thick wet tongue of his lashes against his lips and my legs tingle in expectation.

“Angel...” There are so many things I want to say. An immense confession weighs heavy on my tongue, but I can’t speak. I just want to look at him a little longer.

“Cat...” The low rumble of his voice sends a flock of butterflies racing through my belly. I close my eyes and fall into his hand.

The next thing I know, his lips are on mine.