Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,55

up to the room she was going to see what it took to break a king-sized bed. And if he suspected she’d become a sex fiend, he was going to have to find a way to cope. Until he’d come along, a sex life had been the furthest thing from her mind. But amazingly enough, she’d found someone who didn’t give a damn about her past; if anything, he had a more screwed-up life than hers. Maybe it was because of that, or because he’d been the one to find her that long-ago day in the North Carolina woods, but she trusted Nate. Even more than wanting him—and she wanted him with the passion of a thousand burning suns—she trusted him. And unless her instincts were on the fritz, he was in the same boat. Now that he’d come clean with all his secrets, some internal wall within Nate had come tumbling down.

That kind of tumbling was always a good thing, and with a quick glance at her watch Ella picked up the pace. The note she’d left on the bedside scratch pad had promised she’d only be gone five minutes, and she was already past her self-imposed curfew. No doubt Nate would be irked with her for not waking him to go with her on a simple condom run, but if her luck held he’d still be asleep when she got back.

She had gone no more than a couple of steps outside the small shop before she came to a dead halt, her blood icing over in a flash freeze that almost hurt. Dressed in neatly pressed khakis, white shirt and an argyle sweater vest, Richard Rainier looked like he was out for a morning round of golf. With his face in profile, he scanned the dining area with a studied air of nonchalance. Standing at his side as if yearning to be surgically attached to his hip was the image of the woman Ella knew was dead—Lana Dever.

But of course that wasn’t Lana, any more than Richard was an aging preppie looking to get his nosh on before hitting the links. They were a demon-powered dynamic duo, and they were here for Nate’s blood.

Nate.

Panic strained to break free, and in a last-ditch effort for control she held her breath until she was sure she wouldn’t scream. Panicking wouldn’t help. What would help would be a plan. Rainier and his demon were strategically placed on the edge of the dining area and directly in front of the bank of elevators that had just disgorged a troop of Boy Scouts. Since her phone was dead thanks to her charger being left behind at her place, her only option was a house phone, which unfortunately was right by the elevators. She ducked back into the store, keeping her gaze fastened on them as she racked her brain on how she could alert Nate. She had no idea where the stairs were located. She couldn’t wander around the lobby without being seen, and she didn’t particularly relish the thought of taking on both a Rainier and a demon all by herself.

For a fleeting moment she marveled at how quickly her brain had come to a point where the idea of actual demons didn’t make her thought processes completely short-circuit. But life had taught her that the strong didn’t just survive—they adapted.

The question now was how she could adapt her way out of this.

The noisy gaggle of scouts came to a stop as their haggard troop leaders paused at the front desk for what looked like sack lunches. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a mischievous kid pantomime pulling a placidly blinking fire alarm on the wall even as Rainier turned to shoot the rowdy bunch an irritated look. That was all it took for inspiration to hit like a ton of bricks. She edged back against the wall, waiting for Rainier’s attention to turn away. Almost against her will, her gaze slipped to the thing that looked like Lana Dever practically standing on Rainier’s shoes. Obviously demons didn’t understand the human concept of personal space.

The image of Lana was truly breathtaking. It was a flawless portrait of a woman Ella had only known after a gruesome, twisted take on a Maori-like design had been carved into her face. How sad it was that the real Lana had once looked like that. In her memory, open wounds had been cut from the woman’s chin to her mouth and all over