His Angel (19 page)

He eased her back so he could study her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, and his chest squeezed knowing he was the cause of her heartache. Even upset and bawling, the woman was beautiful. She blinked and looked into his eyes, and he knew she was telling him the truth about listening to him–and wasn't that ironic. Reaching behind her, he undid the belt restraining her wrists as fast as he'd tied it on her. As she brought her arms back to her front, he rubbed her arms from her wrists to her shoulders, making sure there was no stiffness and her circulation was good. Before he let her sit up, he placed a single lingering kiss to her forehead and murmured, "I'm sorry, Angel."

He didn't explain further because he was sorry for more than he wanted to admit. He'd never meant to hurt her in any way, but he had, and now he had to live with the consequences, praying she would forgive him.

With a weary sigh, Angie pushed off the bed and walked into the bathroom without saying a word. This time she didn't bother locking the door after she eased it shut. Ian turned down the covers on the bed, picked her bags up from the floor and unpacked her new things. He folded the clothes and neatly lining everything up on his dresser so she could find whatever she needed. From the attached bath, the toilet flush and water began to flow into the sink before shutting off again a few minutes later. Just as he was placing a wing-backed chair next to the bed for their conversation, the bathroom door opened and Angie emerged, calmer, yet drained. Her hair wasn’t as wild and her tears were gone but her eyes were still red and swollen. She stood there, unsure of what to do next, eyeing the bed and chair. When he handed her one of his T-shirts, she looked at it in confusion. Turning her around to face the bathroom door again, he gave her a small push. "As much as I like how you sleep naked, I'd rather you wear this to bed in case we need to leave in a hurry. Jenn has a few things in the bedroom she uses, and I'll see if there's a pair of her running shorts for you after we talk."

Two minutes later, Angie walked out of the bathroom for the third time since they'd arrived at the house forty-five minutes earlier. She was wearing the T-shirt which came down to the middle of her thighs. He wondered if she’d removed her panties as well and gave himself a mental kick for even thinking it. When her bare legs drew his gaze, he tried to ignore the twitching of his cock and gestured for her to climb into bed. She frowned then looked out the window and he knew she was surprised to see the sun had set. It was after seven p.m. and six hours ago, her life had been normal.

After she climbed into the bed, Ian drew the covers up to her chest then pulled the chair closer to the top of the bed and sat down. For the first time in years, he was unsure of himself in front of a submissive. But Angie was just any submissive…no, she was more than that, and he had no idea what to do about it. She watched as he dragged both his hands down his face in frustration before he spoke. "Let me tell you everything I know and then you can ask questions. Okay?" He waited for a response and when she nodded, he continued on a sigh. "Athos approached Trident after we met the night he was at your place. Apparently he investigates all your new neighbors, which I would also do if I were him." He shrugged, unashamed. "I want to investigate any guy who Jenn goes out with, but she won't tell me their names because she knows I'll do it. Anyway, Athos told us he was going back undercover and there was a slim chance you might be in danger if his cover was blown."

Angie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would it be a problem all of a sudden? He always took precautions so no one could ever connect the two of us."

So much for saving her questions until the end. He hated what he was about to tell her. "Angel, the agent he was replacing was murdered along with his family after the cartel discovered he was a plant." He watched as the words took effect in her brain and her eyes widened in horror. "It's why Athos asked us to protect you. It's also why he insisted on the security upgrades at your house. And yes, it's why we placed cameras there, as well as audio bugs and tracking devices in your car, phone, purse and some of your shoes."

He could see she was about to start yelling again, so he held up his hand to stop her. "Let me finish. You wanted to hear all of this, so I’m telling you everything. You can holler at me all you want when I’m done." She crossed her arms, her anger still evident, but he was grateful when she remained quiet. "There were no cameras facing your bed or in your bathroom. The ones in your bedroom only faced the door to the hallway and the slider. I erased the audio from the night of the gala as soon as I got back to the compound, and the audio and video were both turned off while you and I were on the phone that morning. As long as there wasn’t a reason, no one listened to or watched any of the recordings. Well, no one but me."

Her eyes narrowed and he glanced away for a moment before taking a deep breath and forging ahead. "From the moment I met you, the day we moved Egghead into his house, I've wanted you. For some unknown reason, I was fighting my attraction to you, but every time I had a chance to go to Brody's, I took it, hoping to see you. The day Athos was over, I'll admit I was jealous as hell watching him massage your bare feet and seeing how familiar he was with you. I assumed you two had an intimate relationship but Athos filled us in on everything the next morning. He told us how you met and became best friends, how you were there for each other after you both lost your families, and how much he tried to protect you over the years. Then he explained about his case and what he wanted us to do to keep you safe. At no time was my getting close to you part of the plan.

"Yes, Brody was keeping an eye on you and checking on you whenever he was home, but like I said before, he could have done that from a distance. Egghead is one of those guys who easily forms friendships, and I’m sure you two would've become friends even without this whole mess. It's just the way he is.

Biting his bottom lip, Ian paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "The night of your blind date, I was there to pick up a file I needed. I stood in the living room arguing with myself about going out the backdoor to see if you were there. Obviously, I lost that fight. I asked you out as a man wanting to spend time with a woman he was fascinated with and for no other reason. I found myself checking your video feeds during the day like some crazy stalker and I'm not proud of it, but without even trying, you got under my skin. And once I had a taste of you, I knew it wasn't enough. I don't do long relationships, Angel. Not since my fiancée walked out on me ten years ago. She wanted someone more romantic, someone who could read her mind and anticipate her every whim. She wanted someone who would buy her flowers just because it was Wednesday or some other wacky reason. She wanted corny love songs and sky-writing proclaiming how much I loved her.” He snorted and shook his head. “And that's not me. I tried to show her I cared for her in my own way, but it wasn't enough. And I swore I would never go through that again. I would never again let a woman get close enough to me to the point where, when she left me, she took my shredded heart with her. And until I met you, it was never a problem for me." A bewildered expression came over his handsome face. "But you, sweetheart, you make me wish I never took that vow."

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then slowly opened them again, afraid of what he would see in her face…in her eyes. Would she hate him, be disgusted with him? Would she never want to see him again, never let him kiss her again? God, he hoped not. His gaze focused on hers and he was surprised to see sadness instead of anger. Swallowing hard, he waited for her to say something and prayed it wouldn't be 'get out’.

"What was her name?" Angie whispered.

Of all the things he expected her to say, that wasn't one of them. "Um, Kaliope. Kaliope Levine. She was a…um…a news reporter in Virginia near the Navy base."

"Was she your submissive too?"

Ian nodded and his eyes left hers as he looked downward. "Yes, she was. I met her at a club up there. We were together for almost three years."

She reached over for his hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go again. The gesture shocked him but not as much as her next words did. "I'm sorry for what she put you through but I'm not her, Ian, and when this is all over, I think I'd like the chance to prove it to you. But for now, I'm still mad and hurt and scared out of my mind–for me, you, Jimmy and your team." She heaved a sigh. "I want to try to sleep and maybe tomorrow I'll be more tolerant of everything you've done up to this point. I can't guarantee I won't yell some more but I'll try to refrain from kneeing you in the balls."

Snorting, he gave her a wry grin. "My balls appreciate it, sweetheart." His face became serious again. "Look, I'm not sorry for protecting you, your safety was always a priority, but I will apologize for the way we all went about it. We should have...I should have told you from the beginning and I'm sorry I didn't. I stressed how trust is a large portion of BDSM, yet it should also be a major part of the rest of our relationship too. And I know I have to work at earning yours again." He hesitated a moment, uncertain how she would react to his next question. "Would it be all right if I sleep next to you tonight? I promise I won't push for anything more. I just want to hold you and keep you safe."

His stomach dropped and a wave of nausea hit him when she shook her head. "Not right now, Ian." Knowing he deserve it, he tilted in understanding and stood, ready to find another bed for the night. He said he wouldn't push her further tonight and he meant it. "But if you happen to come back while I'm asleep, I won't exactly have a choice, will I?"

His heart soared. Smiling, he leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "No, you won't, Angel." He kissed her again. "Good night, sweetheart."

Angie buried herself under the blankets and shut her eyes as Ian turned off the lamp and left the room, closing the door behind him. Within minutes, she was asleep.

The sun had been up for only a few minutes when Angie awoke the next morning, wrapped up in Ian's arms as he spooned her from behind. Despite his morning hard-on, his shallow breathing and heavy arm around her waist told her he was still sound asleep. She'd been so exhausted last night and fallen asleep so fast that she had no idea what time he'd joined her in the big, comfortable bed. She lay there for a few moments, soaking up his warmth, as everything from the prior day came rushing back to her. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been doing a job she loved, dating a guy she liked a lot, learning more about herself each day and been truly happy for the first time in what felt like forever. Now, she was on the run from people who wanted to kidnap her and use her against her best friend, who was incommunicado while a drug cartel was after him. Her happy normal life was falling to pieces and she didn't know how to stop it.

She was also still wrestling with the fact Ian lied to her, although she was working past it. Yes, the anger and hurt were still there, but so was the understanding of why he and Jimmy had done what they did. Jake had been right–men like her lover and her best friend were wired a different way. They needed to feel needed and protect the people they cared about at all costs, even if she didn't agree with how they went about it.

Her bladder began insisting she get up and relieve the building pressure so she eased away from Ian and climbed out of the bed. After she finished, she took a quick shower while avoiding getting her hair wet. Instead of washing it, she opted to put it up into an easy twist with a clip she'd picked up at the beauty section of the store. She threw on a pair of her new sweatpants and a T-shirt over one of her sports bras thinking maybe she'd take a run later when someone could go with her. Turning toward the bed, she examined him as he continued to sleep, now on his stomach with his hands under his pillow. His jaw and upper lip had the morning stubble which she loved having rubbed against her inner thighs when he went down on her. A lock of his hair had fallen onto his forehead and she fought the urge to put it back in its place. She didn’t want to wake him, knowing he probably needed the sleep. The sheet had been pushed down, exposing his muscular back and upper buttocks. Damn, the man had granite buns she wanted to take a bite out of.

If she stared at him much longer she was going to jump his bones, so instead, she searched for her new toothbrush among her toiletries on his dresser. It was then she noticed he’d found a pair of cotton shorts, which she assumed were Jenn's, and left them out for her. No matter what, she had to admit he did show he cared in his own little ways, like making sure she was comfortable and safe, and always putting her first. When they had sex, he made sure she was satisfied before he took his own pleasure. He opened doors and held out her chair for her without a second thought. At dinner at his place, he'd fill her plate before taking his own meal. Her wants and needs always seemed to come before his. And above all, he was putting his life, and the lives of his team, in jeopardy because hers was in danger. She thought back to what Kristen had said in the ladies room at the gala about how Devon made her feel cherished, and Angie realized it was exactly how Ian made her feel. So what if he wasn't a flowers and poetry kind of guy. He may not be a romantic by definition but she would take being cherished over romance any day.

After brushing her teeth, she grabbed the art pad and sketching pencils she'd found in the craft section of Wal-Mart. Tip-toeing out of the room, she closed the door behind her. In the kitchen, she found a Keurig coffee machine and brewed herself a single cup of the Brazilian blend she selected from the carousel next to the machine. The house was quiet except for the sounds of her coffee cup being filled. Not wanting to cook so early and wake anybody else up, she picked out a bran muffin from the assorted box of sixteen Jake had left on the counter. Taking it, along with her coffee and art supplies, she went out to the front porch. It was chilly but she wanted the fresh air so she placed her things on a small table and went back inside to retrieve a blanket from the back of the living room couch. After making herself warm and comfortable in a lounge chair, which gave her a beautiful view of the lake below them, she had her simple breakfast and tried not to think about the danger they were all in.

When her muffin was gone, Angie picked up the sketch pad and pulled a pencil out of the package of six. Opening the pad to the first black page, she let her mind wander as she began to sketch. A little while later, she was startled when she heard a voice behind her. "Wow, that's me."

She looked up over shoulder and saw Jake standing behind her chair, appearing rumpled in a University of Tampa T-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. He must've just rolled out of bed and she hadn't heard him come out the door. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee as he studied the picture of his face she'd drawn from memory. She didn't need to confirm his statement since the sketch was close to what a photograph of him might look like.

"Why do I seem so sad? Is that what I look like to you?"

She nodded as he sat in a chair catty-cornered to her and crossed his sneaker-covered feet at the ankles, resting them on the bottom slats of her lounger. "Sometimes. When you think no one is watching or your mind seems to be somewhere else, you get this sad, far-away look on your face."

"Huh," he grunted before taking a sip of his coffee, not contradicting her observations of him. "So, are you feeling better this morning? Not so stressed out and angry?" He narrowed his eyes and teased her. "You didn't murder Ian in his sleep last night or cut off his most prized possession, did you?"

Laughing, she shook her head. "No, he's breathing and still has all his man-parts, but don't think I wasn't tempted a time or two."

He smiled and remained quiet as she considered his face then made a few small changes to the sketch she was still fiddling with. Without thinking, she blurted out, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Ha! Uh, no I don't, sweetheart." His amused expression confused her until he added, "I think the more appropriate question would be 'do I have a boyfriend?' and the answer would still be 'no'." Her mouth gaped and her cheeks turned red but he wasn't fazed by her shock. "Yes, Angie, I'm gay. And yes, most people know."

"Wow." She shook her head but smiled at the same time, not wanting him to think she thought there was anything wrong with being gay. "Um, sorry. It's just the gay guy friends I have aren't as macho and hunky as you are." She winced. "That sounded stereotypical, didn't it?"

He snorted and took another sip from his cup. "Macho and hunky, huh? Yeah, well that's the thing about being gay, it doesn't discriminate. We come in all shapes and sizes." She opened her mouth to ask him something but changed her mind and glanced down at her sketch. "Go ahead and ask your question, sweetheart. I'm not ashamed of who I am."

Glancing back up at him, she shrugged her right shoulder. "I didn't think you were since you came right out and told me, and you're not embarrassed about it, which you shouldn't be. I just can't help but think about how you can work with Ian and the rest of them without being attracted to any of them. I mean, you're all good-looking men."

Jake nodded his head in understanding and didn't seem put-off about her question. "I'll admit, I fought a lot of attractions to straight guys throughout my whole career in the Navy–hell, pretty much my whole life–but when it comes to the team, we've been together so long and they've become my brothers. I have no more attraction to any of them then I do to my own blood brother, Mike."

"When did you realize you were gay?" Her eyes widened at her unintentional bluntness. Her brain-to-mouth filter wasn't working this morning. "Sorry, that's way too personal. Don't answer that."

"No, it's fine." He tilted his head and held her stare. "I like you, Angie, and I'm not like Brody who makes friends easily wherever he goes, so I hold onto the friends I do have. In the short time I've known you, I'd like to think we've become friends."

She gave him a shy smile. "I think we've become friends too."

"Good." He raised his cup of coffee in a silent toast to their new friendship, then drank what little remained. "So, in answer to your question, I guess I've known since puberty, maybe a little earlier. Like most gay people, I struggled with it in the beginning because it was out of the norm from how I was raised, especially since my father was a homophobic jackass."

Wincing, she asked, "How did he take it when you came out, or haven't you ever told him?"

"Oh, he found out, somehow, when I was a senior in high school. Beat the ever-living shit out of me too, thinking it would convince me to go straight, as if I had a choice. All my life, up to that point, he'd been living his life vicariously through me. He'd been a mediocre football player in high school, and here was his youngest son, the star quarterback on the football team with a full-ride to Rutgers. After he beat me near unconscious with his belt three months before graduation, I couldn't go to school for almost two weeks. My mother called me in sick with the flu or something, and nursed me back to health. My father wouldn't let her take me to the hospital or even a doctor–God forbid someone found out he'd beaten his son, the faggot."

He shrugged off the fucked-up memory. "Anyway, after I recovered, I was done with him. I threw my scholarship in his face and enlisted the afternoon I graduated from high school, which also happened to be my eighteenth birthday. If it wasn't for my mom and brother, I would never have seen my father again. As it was, we may have said less than a dozen words to each other for the rest of his life. He died four years ago and the only reason I ever regretted our estrangement was for how much it hurt my mother and brother."

Despite what he said earlier about them being friends, Jake suddenly seemed shocked by how much he'd told her and he stopped talking. A look of surprise came over his handsome face when she stood with tears in her eyes and pulled on his hand until he was standing also, then hugged the stuffing out of him.

With only the sounds of nature around them, they held each other for a minute. Angie's heart broke for the teenager he'd been, and how his father had assaulted and disowned him for something which was beyond Jake's control. "Is that how you got the scars on your back?" He pulled away and looked at her with confusion in his eyes, probably trying to remember when she would've seen his bare back. "Ian told me it's why you didn't take your shirt off in the club the night you were Whip Master. You were soaked in sweat but kept it on."

Letting go of her completely, he nodded. "Yeah, that's why. There's quite a few scars where the belt buckle did some permanent damage. I try not to show them to anyone if it can be avoided."

Not knowing what else to say, Angie grabbed her pad and carefully ripped Jake's sketch out and handed it to him. "I hope someday I can draw you when you're truly happy and find someone you love to share your life with. You deserve it."

He gave her a wry smile and kissed her on the cheek. "I don't know if that'll ever happen, sweetheart, but if it does, I hope he's the male version of you–kick-ass and tender, all wrapped up in one beautiful package." He paused and winked at her. "And not afraid of his kinky side."

The two of them laughed and Angie was about to say something snarky when the front door opened and Brody stuck his head out. "Athos is on the phone."

All thoughts of what she and Jake had been talking about took a backseat to her best friend's welfare. She was desperate to hear his voice and ran past Brody as he held the door open for her, then he and Jake followed her back inside. Ian was standing in the living room, talking on his cell phone. He looked like he'd just woken up too, and as soon as he saw her, he told Athos he was putting him on speaker. Pushing a button, he held out the phone so she could hear and talk to her friend. "Jimmy? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby. I'm so sorry about this. Having you involved in this was the last thing I ever wanted. I'm on my way to meet you and we'll talk when I get there, okay? Just do what Ian tells you to do and stay safe."

A little more at ease after hearing his familiar, comforting voice, she looked up at Ian and said into the phone's mic, "I will. You stay safe, yourself, and get your sorry ass here as soon as possible so I can kick it from here to the moon."

A chuckle came over the line. "That's my girl. I'll see you soon."

Ian gave Athos the location where Jake and Brody would meet him in Spartanburg, South Carolina, not far from the airport they flew in to. After they were certain they weren't being followed, the three men would return to the safe-house where they would all sit down and figure out how to get Angie out of this mess. After he hung up the phone, Ian sent a text to CC, telling the pilot to fly back to Tampa, pick up Marco, Boomer and Tiny. He'd bring them up to Spartanburg where another SUV would be waiting for them so they could drive to the safe-house. Ian then called his brother and filled him in, making sure all was safe and sound back at the compound.

Twenty minutes later, Jake and Brody were on their way back to South Carolina. They would reach their destination around the same time as Athos, who'd been taking the back roads since yesterday. In the meantime, Ian and Angie had about three hours to kill. She was staring out the front window looking at the lake when he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her rear flush against his front. He knew he wasn't out of trouble with her yet but he was pleased to feel her relax into his embrace. Nuzzling his chin to her neck, he placed soft gentle kisses on the skin covering her pulse, loving how a shiver went through her. When she titled her head to give him better access, he began to nibble and lick the tender area. She moaned and reacted by pushing her ass into his groin which made his dick happy and hard. He smiled against her skin when she said in a husky voice, "Just so you know, I'm still mad at you."