ANGEL'S KISS (A Dark Angel's Novel) (2 page)

As I made my way to my Jeep, my phone broke into my melancholy thoughts. I began the delicate job of balancing my coffee while searching for my keys and phone. Oh well, at least the phone was easy to find in my itty-bitty purse. I pressed the green button and put the phone to my ear.

“What’s the word?” The deep bass of Ottie’s voice filled my ear.

Ottie, or Alden Jones, according to his Social Security card, is my partner at Haynes and Haynes Investigations. True to form, he didn’t even wait for me to say hello before he started grilling me.

“Hello to you too, Ottie,” I said, my voice dripping with honey. Teasing him about his manners is fun, but I also hated to break the news that we didn’t get Philip Janeck.

“Did Joey get some good pics of the husband?” he asked, his voice was thick with excitement. “Did he put up a fight? That red wig you wear to disguise yourself is the cat’s meow. You own the room when you wear that thing; they say men go for blondes, but…”

Ottie’s little rant was cut short as my phone flew from my hand. Dazed, I watched my coffee spill out of my cup before I realized my feet had left the ground. The air whooshed out of my lungs as somebody yanked me backward. I had the sensation of riding a roller coaster. I could feel the wind against my neck and my body being pushed into the restraining bar. After a moment of disorientation, I realized that I wasn’t on a roller coaster. Someone had taken me so fast I hadn’t had time to even scream. I was being carried off like a naughty child.

I am not a child.

Hell! I’ve taught self-defense. I threw my head back to use his weight against him. Nothing. Then I tried a classic Krav Maga twisting move. He didn’t notice.

At 5'6" and 120 pounds I’m used to being the smallest in the match, and I’ve learned that in real life you don’t lose points for fighting dirty. I keep my nails short, but they’re still a weapon. I clawed at his arm. His long-sleeve shirt was in tatters by the time I finished, but his arm still felt as solid and smooth as PVC piping. I tried to pry back his fingers. He didn’t even flinch.

Exhausted from my struggles, I decided to stop fighting and conserve my energy. Instead I tried to focus on my surroundings, but we were moving too fast to recognize anything. I couldn’t even see the pavement below his feet.

I must have been in la-la land, because the jolt as we came to a halt had me dangling from his arm like a rag doll. Maybe I hit my head when he snatched me, but it felt like we had been flying and just crash landed. My brain was ringing inside its cage and I was nauseated. I guess my stomach hadn’t kept up with my body. If he let go of me now, I would end up in a pile at his feet.

Now that we were stopped, I focused on my surroundings. The air felt damp and smelled like salt and seaweed. I tried to straighten up as I heard the sound of waves crashing. We were at the beach? The restaurant was over five miles from the beach. How…?

Focus, I told myself. Get away first. Then you can figure out how he managed to carry you all the way to the water in just minutes.

He held me with my back against his chest. Only the tips of my toes were touching the ground. His strength was unbelievable. Using just one arm he’d managed to capture both of mine and pin them to my sides. I could feel his breath on my neck, so he couldn’t be that much taller than me, but his arms were holding me as if I weighed nothing. As I registered the panic in my own breathing, I realized that he wasn’t breathing hard at all. Just as I was considering bashing my head into his nose, he forced my head to the side and caressed my neck like a lover.

“Just a little taste for my trouble,” he whispered against my skin.

His breath was like an ice cold wind, and it made the hair on my arms stand up. I shivered at the hunger in his voice and felt his teeth brush my neck. Then I felt the pop of my skin giving way under his teeth and something clicked inside me. Every point of skin-on-skin contact burned as if a tiny flame had been lit to combat his cold touch. The blood pulsed in my finger tips and my heart sped wildly. I screamed in rage.

And then I got an idea. The heels!

He raised his head from my neck and began to turn me around to face him. When he moved, I slammed all my weight down on my right leg, forcing the stiletto heel of my prized Manolo Blahniks into his foot. I heard his breath leave his throat in a hiss and I was thankful for the expensive well-made pointy heels. His hands dug into my arms as he tried to turn me faster to face him. As I spun, I lifted my foot and grasped my shoe, wrenching it off. My vision blurred as I spun with my improvised weapon. The tiny fires that crackled under my skin erupted, like fire ants marching inside my veins.

Pain burst inside me. A jolt reverberated through my arm, letting me know that I’d hit something. Stars danced in front of my eyes, and I struggled against the pain and the blackness and the pounding in my head. Then I realized that my arms were swinging freely. He’d let go of me!

This was my chance to get away. My vision was blurry, but through sheer force of will I got a glimpse of him. He had dark, messy hair and lips so red the rest of his face seemed invisible. With a shock I realized I was crouched three feet in front of him ready for another attack. How did I get away from him? Why was the blood in my veins searing me from the inside out? I tried to hold on to consciousness, but I couldn’t.

As I collapsed I watched a look of confusion and surprise came over his face as he pulled my four-inch stiletto out of his temple.

The Morning After

Ahh...it’s so bright. I can’t sleep. Damn it. Alan left the blinds open again. I moved my arm to cover my eyes while I reached for the covers with my other hand. Ugh, where are the covers?

There weren’t any covers, because I wasn’t in a bed. I seemed to be...on a roof.

“Oh God!” I said, sitting up so fast that my head rang. My hands moved over my body, taking inventory. Face—okay, arms—okay, clothes still on—grrreat, legs—still in working order. I’m okay. I closed my eyes in a silent prayer and let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Although the heat coming off the flat tar roof was uncomfortable, I took in another breath and I realized I felt terrific. I should be freaking out since I just woke up on a roof, but I was just happy to be all in one piece and fully clothed.

I could hear sea gulls squawking nearby—and not just the gulls, but also the rustle of sea oats and crabs scuffling around the dunes. The air wafting over me was heavy with salt and moisture; I could almost taste the ocean. All of these sensations assaulted me at once and for a moment, I was overloaded by the smells, sounds, and textures. I knew where I was and then…I remembered the dark-haired man with my shoe stuck in his temple.

Was I still in danger? I jumped to my feet and surveyed the area. The roof I was on seemed to be surrounded by a wall, but I was up here alone, at least. Any doubt that I had been attacked went right out the window when I realized I was missing a shoe.

“Shit!” Those were brand new Manolo Blahniks! I mean, they were on sale, but still! Okay. Stop worrying about the shoes, Lexie. Get a grip. First things first. Find a way down, and then get help.

I’ll call Alan. Where was my purse? I looked around, hoping the purse would be with me. Shit! Shit! And double shit!! It was gone. I’d have to go to the DMV and get another copy of my investigators license. He got my favorite lipstick, and my Blackberry. Crap!

“Bastard,” I spat. I forced myself to take a deep breath. First things first. I took off my remaining shoe and hiked up my skirt, pulled off my ruined hose, and squished them into my shoe. After I’d done that, I stood a little straighter, smoothed down my skirt, and felt better. At least I didn’t look like a victim anymore. I’m not sure why, but that was very important to me.

I looked for a way down. How did my attacker get me up here in the first place? Something caught my eye—two posts sticking up above the wall that surrounded the roof. I walked toward them, hoping they’d lead down. The roof felt springy under my feet, like that new rubber bark all the playgrounds were using. Fun! I felt like a ballet dancer—strong, lean, and nimble. I wondered how long I’d slept.

Thinking about the time made me check for my watch, which was still on my arm and still working. Thank goodness for small miracles. It was
6:45am
. For a split second, I wished for a cup of coffee, my drug of choice, longingly remembering my mocha from last night.

Had I been drugged? Maybe the little shit behind the counter slipped something in my mocha. They must have been working together, the attacker and the coffee shop employee. How else could someone have towed me all the way to the beach and up here without my remembering?

But that didn’t ring true. I’d only had one sip of the coffee before it spilled out of my cup.

The two posts that had caught my eye were part of a telescoping ladder that descended to some scaffolding and another ladder. I worked my way down three stories and found myself in a parking lot full of construction equipment. The workers should be here soon. Dennis, my brother, usually started his crews around
7am
, even in the fall. I hope whoever shows up first doesn’t think I’m just some crazy lady carrying one shoe. And hopefully, they’d have a phone.

I cringed as I remembered the guy with my stiletto stuck in his head. Was I strong enough to have impaled him with a shoe? And if so, where was he? Because, if I’d stuck a four-inch heel in his temple, he certainly wouldn’t have just walked away.

Maybe I was in shock, and the horror of what happened would hit me once I knew I was safe. I hoped my mind would keep protecting me until I got home. I didn’t want to have a meltdown in front of people I didn’t know.

“Hold it together, Lexie,” I whispered to myself.

“Hey, lady!” A deep voice bellowed. A big guy in a hard hat had arrived. My knight in shining armor. He yelled as he crossed the parking lot.

“What are you doing inside this construction zone? It’s dangerous! There’re no trespassing signs everywhere!”

I was leaning against the temporary power pole holding my shoe, hugging myself. It was a chilly morning, I felt exposed and not just because of the sheer blouse and short skirt I wore. I watched his anger soften and his stomping boots slow as he got close enough to really see me.

“Lady—are you okay?” He asked, taking his hard hat off and putting it under his arm. That simple gesture made me feel better, a southern gentlemen taking his hat off for a lady. He must be a local contractor. He held his hands out as if he thought I might fall over. Boy, I must look bad. Strange, because I feel like I could take on The Times crossword puzzle and actually, not have to cheat. I must be in shock.

“What happened? Do you need me to call someone? Are you hurt?” Then he answered himself by pulling his phone out and dialing 911. Before I could speak, he was reporting the incident and asking for EMTs. He’s probably right, I thought. The police need to know about this guy before he attacks someone else. But what could I tell them? I didn’t even get a good look at his face.

I looked back up at the commercial building. The guy who carried me up there had to have been incredibly strong, because carrying dead weight three stories up is not for weaklings. And that ladder-scaffold concoction that I’d climbed down was tricky. Why couldn’t I remember that climb? My construction worker/knight in shining armor finished the call.

“Yes sir, I’ll stay with her until they arrive, thank you.” He snapped the phone shut and looked at me as if he was afraid to say anything because I might fall to pieces.

“Sir, could I use your phone to call my husband?” All I could think about was getting home. “The man who attacked me took my purse and...”

“Oh yes—yes please,” he said handing me the phone before I could finish.

I hoped Alan had gone to bed early last night and wasn’t up worrying. He’s a freelance writer, so he almost never has to get out of bed early. He’s a night owl, reading and writing until past
midnight
on most days.

“Yeah.” He answered on the first ring. Not a good sign.

“It’s me. I’m okay,” I said, trying to sound okay.

“Lexie? Where are you? What happened? Why don’t you have your phone? Ottie and I have been trying to reach you and...”

“Alan,” I said forcibly. “I’m okay. Hold on.” I should have paid attention when my friend here was telling the police our location. I asked him.

"Excuse me, sir. Where are we?
Old Beach Road
and…

“Yes ma’am, we’re at The Hotel Sea Crest, intersection of
Shore Drive
and
Old Beach Road
. And my name’s Shane.” He was still holding his hard hat under his arm and looking at me as if he was scared I’d start crying.

“Thanks Shane…for everything,” I said with a small smile on my face.

“Lexie, are you there? Talk to me! Lexie?” Alan’s voice drew me back to the phone.

“I’m here. I’m at the old Sea Crest Hotel, corner of
Shore Drive
and the old
Beach Road
. Can you…come get me?”

“Honey, I’m already in the car. How did you get way over there? Ottie called after you guys got disconnected to let me know that you were on your way home. When you didn’t get home by
midnight
, I went out looking for you. Are you really okay? I’ve been going crazy. I found your car. Was it you who spilled coffee all over the roof?”