Angel of Death

by S. Massery

  He stalks toward me, and my blood heats.

  His face is so serious. Mine, too. I don’t smile as he approaches and touches my collarbone. His fingers move down to my shoulder, down my arm, until our hands join.

  “You came back,” he says.

  “I couldn’t resist,” I admit. Maybe I’m weak for cracking so soon. Maybe I don’t care.

  I glance from our hands to his eyes.

  His dark eyes always get to me. It’s like he can look into my soul, and he likes what he sees. I’ve never felt that sort of acceptance before, especially these past few months.

  “Hadley.”

  I shake my head, moving out of his grasp. I show him the feather—the one he left me a week ago. It’s white. He doesn’t know this, but I burst into tears when I saw it on the coffee table. I didn’t open my eyes until well after he was gone, so no one heard me cry.

  In my closet, on the top shelf, there’s a polished wooden box. I have to stand on my tiptoes to reach it, but I take it down and set it on the desk.

  “What—”

  The box is full of feathers. Every single one. I pull them out, one at a time, and lay them in a row. “They start off light,” I tell him. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  White when we were young. Gray after he started with the Navy. Then darker. Spotted browns and cream, gray, and the last one… black. I slowly set down the new, crisp white-and-gray feather on the end of the line.

  “I get it,” I whisper. “They represent you.”

  He bows his head. “Yes.”

  “And the black? The worst you could be.”

  “Yes.”

  I step up and put my hand on his shoulder. He gazes at me with his brilliantly dark eyes.

  “Damn you.” My voice is still soft. Muted. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, no matter the stains on your soul.”

  “Hadley.”

  His eyes are fire, and I’m burning inside.

  “Now isn’t the time for talking, Griff.” My hands go to the belt at my waist, and the coat opens.

  “You—”

  Are wearing nothing? Yes. Well, almost. Delia helped me find the most delicate, pale-pink bralette and matching panties. They’re all lace.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says, pushing the coat off my shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I shiver.

  “Touch me,” I tell him. It’s half order, half beg.

  He leans down and kisses my shoulder. My eyes close.

  His lips follow the lines of my collarbone. I put my hands on his waist as he moves to my throat, to the sensitive spot just below my ear. His teeth graze the shell of my ear, and I feel it like a lightning bolt to my core.

  “Griffin.”

  He hums against my throat, and his hands slide down my sides.

  “I’m not breakable anymore,” I say.

  He pulls back. “I never thought you were.”

  “You thought I was going to die,” I point out. “And I’m good now. Healthy. So just fuck me already, okay?”

  His lips part, and I bite my lip while I wait for him to respond. It takes him a second.

  “You want it rough,” he confirms.

  “I want you. All of you. Right now.”

  He lifts me by my ass, and I wrap my legs around his hips. My arms around his neck. He keeps his eyes on mine as he walks us back into his bedroom, and he lowers us both to the bed. When he shifts his weight, his erection brushes my sensitive center.

  I gasp, my hands going to the button of his jeans. He stills them before I can do much damage and takes over, kicking his pants off. He slides my panties down my legs and tosses them aside.

  Still leaning back, sitting on his heels, he looks down at me with a serious expression. My eyes roll back when he slides a finger inside me, and my hips buck.

  “Griffin,” I groan.

  His finger vanishes, and suddenly he’s hovering above me.

  Finally, finally, he kisses my mouth. My nails bite into the wings tattooed on his back. He pushes into me at the same time that he nips my lower lip. A whimper stalls in my throat.

  He pulls back slowly and slams into me, so suddenly I almost jump. He braces himself on his elbows on either side of my head, caging me in. We move in sync, a fast, frantic rhythm, until an orgasm builds. I tip my head back, mouth gaping. His teeth latch on to my nipple. Stars explode behind my eyes, and my climax wrecks me.

  The closeness is almost unbearable. Time slows down as Griffin’s tempo slows. My heartbeat roaring in my ears is the only thing I can hear. He slides in and out of me, watching my face, my eyes, and it makes me want to cry.

  It’s a hello and a goodbye and an I see you all at the same time. It’s—

  “Hadley,” he whispers, his lips against my cheek. “Open your eyes.”

  He moves in me, and our bodies shudder. He tilts to one side and trails his hand down my body, over the bralette, over my stomach, my hip, the back of my thigh. When he kisses me again, too sweet for words, a light bulb goes off.

  “I love you,” he tells me, and it isn’t a surprise.

  It’s warmth and bliss and oh, I don’t know if my heart can take the tragedy of him leaving again.

  He leaves. He always leaves.

  And yet, hope wells inside me that this time is different.

  He tried to tell me he loved me before, and I stopped him. It wasn’t for the right reasons. I was furious with him. But now?

  “We fit together,” I announce. “If you leave, I will hunt you down. You’re mine. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good,” I say. “Now show me how much you love me.”

  30

  GRIFFIN

  “Paris,” I say. “I know bad stuff happened there…”

  “No,” Hadley says, grinning at me. She runs her finger down my chest, tracing invisible paths. “I would want to go back. Experience it without the fever, nosebleeds, nausea…”

  “But what about here?” I can’t help but smile as I ask, although… maybe I should’ve asked sooner. I’ve been secretly working with a construction crew to get a house built. When I went to Judge’s house two days ago and told him I was building him a new house, he laughed at me. Then, once he had wiped the smile off his face, he explained that he couldn’t leave his. Not with so many good memories attached to it.

  In a way, I think I knew it was destined for me and Hadley… but maybe it’s meant to be a part-time thing. She has no idea that I bought the land, about the building… it’s far enough outside Bitterwood that the residents aren’t talking. Yet. When I tell her—no, when I show her—it’s either going to be a huge success or an epic failure. I guess we can sell it if she hates the idea of it.

  “We can come back for holidays,” she reasons. “Right? And vacations.”

  I nod along with her. “Agreed.”

  “Delia and Jackson are staying here,” she says. “Delia told me the other day.”

  They wouldn’t explain their desire to stay off the grid, just that it was necessary. They’re renting the house in cash, and beyond our crew, no one knows they’re here. As far as hiding goes, it’s perfect.

  If not a little concerning.

  “Did she say why they’re staying?”

  She shrugs. “A small town to raise a baby in? Sounds like a good enough reason for me.” She tilts her head up, eyes on my lips.

  I kiss her, choosing to believe her words at face value. If something more pressing was coming up, Jackson would’ve mentioned it.

  I think.

  “I’m just protective of this place,” I say against her lips.

  “I know.”

  I roll us until I’m on top of her. Her hair fans out around her like a halo.

  “I never told you how much you turned my darkness around,” I say. “If we’re speaking in terms of light and darkness, good and evil…” I wince.

  “You were on a dark path,” she agrees. “I think you can give yourself more credit for the transformation.”


  “One thing is for sure.” I push up and sit back on my heels, pulling her upright, too. There’s a ring in my pocket, and my palms sweat when I reach in and take it out. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  She looks from it to me. “Are you proposing?”

  I laugh. “Am I doing it wrong?”

  “What happened to the famous question?”

  I smack my palm to my forehead. “I knew I was forgetting something.” I clear my throat, kneeling in front of her. We’ve been in this position a time or two—and I think her body remembers by the way she flushes. “Hadley Quinn, keeper of my secrets and protector of my light, will you marry me?”

  Her grin banishes all my demons.

  “Yes, Griffin Anders. Yes today and every single day until we die.” She grabs my face and presses her lips to mine.

  We only break apart for me to slide the ring on her finger. And then I walk her backward, toward the bed.

  We have some celebrating to do.

  Epilogue

  HADLEY

  “Do you want that?” I ask, nodding to Jackson and Delia on the path ahead of us.

  Griffin looks down at me, then down farther to the ring on my finger. “We have something better.”

  I suck in a breath. “No, I mean… kids.”

  “Oh. Hadley—”

  “Because I can’t have any,” I blurt out.

  Oh my god. Did I really just say that?

  My face heats with mortification, but Griffin just holds me tighter. He pulls me into a hug, and I wrap my arms around him. He’s taking this better than I thought.

  “I should've said something when you proposed. Even before then. Honestly, I’ve been stewing on it. The chemo and radiation…”

  “I know,” he whispers. He kisses the top of my head. “I mean, I suspected.”

  Some of the ache loosens in my chest. It wasn’t until recently that I was able to pin it down as grief. It’s an odd feeling, mourning a future we won’t get. “The doctors asked me if I wanted to save any. I didn’t, but I should’ve. I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t have to explain,” he says. “And you definitely don’t need to apologize. You and me? We can be our own family. Or we can adopt a kid. Or a dog. Or a cat. Hell, we can foster kids if you want.”

  I lean back to meet his gaze, and he kisses my lips. When he straightens, I smile.

  “We’d never get approved to foster kids,” I say. “With your track record.”

  He snorts. “I don’t know, we have some friends in high places.”

  We walk again, and this time I feel like a weight has been taken off my chest. “Where are we going?”

  Delia and Jackson asked us if we wanted to go for a hike. The weather has been warming up, and Griffin sounded excited about getting out of the apartment. The fresh air is invigorating, and we finally get to the top of a hill. It overlooks a house that’s under construction. It’s all foundation and framing.

  “Are we on private property?” I ask. I’m pretty lost, if I’m being honest. My childhood didn’t involve a lot of hiking. “I haven’t been out here.”

  Griffin shrugs.

  We follow Jackson and Delia down the hill.

  “Seriously,” I call. It makes me nervous to be out here. What if we missed a No Trespassing sign? “Are we allowed to be here?”

  Delia laughs. “I sure hope so.”

  We get up to the house, and Griffin and I circle around it. It’s going to be big. Funny, because I didn’t hear anything about a new buyer. The library is full of gossipy old ladies. There’s a stunning view of the mountains, the lawn sloping down to a tree line a quarter of a mile away.

  “Do you like it?” Griffin asks.

  “It looks like it’s going to be a nice home,” I admit.

  “It’s ours,” he whispers in my ear.

  I spin in his arms. “What?”

  He laughs and picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips automatically.

  “I bought it for Judge about a year ago, but the old man doesn’t want to move. So, I’m building us a house. When we come back from Paris.”

  “We’re building you a house,” Jackson mumbles.

  I glance over at Jackson, who has his arm around Delia’s shoulders. They’re both grinning like fools.

  “You’re serious.”

  Griffin winks.

  “Kiss me,” I demand.

  He obliges, our lips just brush against each other at first. But then I nip his lip, and his control snaps. The kiss deepens until I can feel it in my toes.

  Someone coughs.

  We jerk apart, and Griffin grins sheepishly. He doesn’t look away from me.

  “You really like it?”

  “Absolutely.” I kiss him again, just because I can.

  GRIFFIN

  Someone is in Hadley’s apartment.

  I grab her shoulders, maneuvering her behind me. “Stay quiet,” I mouth.

  She squeezes my hand twice, then lets go. We move in sync through the apartment, her so close behind me that I can feel her body heat. Clearing a space is a thrill—usually. But it isn’t when I have only a knife in my boot and my fiancée at my back. Now, there’s a lot more on the line. I slide the knife out slowly and continue into the apartment.

  The main space is empty, but her bedroom door is closed. It opens on silent hinges.

  A man stands at her window, the black feather in his hand. I readjust the grip on the knife, ready to lunge forward, when Hadley gasps.

  “You,” she says.

  He turns around, and the world crashes down on me.

  “You’re supposed to be dead,” I say. It’s the first thing that pops into my head. That, and, Liar, liar, liar.

  “I’m sorry,” Wyatt says. He glances at Hadley. “You seem well.”

  “You know him?” I ask her, and her cheeks turn red.

  “We met on the island,” she says. “He’s the one who put the tracker in my shoe.”

  We both look down at her feet.

  She frowns. “I should take that out.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. I think I’m in shock. “What the fuck, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt steps forward, setting the feather back on the desk. It’s one of the white ones. “I’m glad to see you, Griff.”

  I grimace. “Are you?”

  He ignores my comment and smiles at Hadley. “I’m glad you made it home in one piece.”

  Hadley’s eyes narrow. “You could’ve warned me Scorpion wanted me dead.”

  I wince. We had been keeping that little bit of information under wraps. I’ve always known that the more people you let in on a secret, the easier it is to get out. I trust Jackson and Delia with my life—but this new version of Wyatt?

  Unsure.

  Wyatt exhales. “It’s still unconfirmed if Smith was acting on Scorpion’s behalf or on his own.”

  “Wait, wait,” I say, holding up my hands. I’m still gripping the knife, and I put it on the dresser. “You were dead. Dead. I stood by your grave—I got your will in the mail—”

  He rolls his eyes. “Yes, about that. We really need to talk about your inability to keep things nice.”

  I raise my eyebrows, and he chuckles.

  “The cabin? It’s already being repaired, but God, what a mess in the Netherlands. It’s probably best you don’t go back there any time soon.”

  “How the fuck do you know everything?”

  Hadley eyes me, then Wyatt. “Should I leave you two alone?”

  Wyatt shakes his head. “I think you’re all that’s standing between me and a bloody nose… Which I wouldn’t normally be opposed to, but I have a meeting with an informant tomorrow, and he might get spooked if I show up bruised.”

  I scoff. “Are you kidding me? Informant?”

  “Back to Smith,” Hadley says.

  Wyatt nods. “First, I just… I’m sorry for coming to you under these circumstances. It was the first time that Jackson was able to make contact after I told him to get o
ff the radar.” His smile is faint. Damn him, he looks just the same as he always did.

  Memories of our missions come back to me. He was the one who was always in control. Always so calculated. Assured. Jackson and him were the tactical specialists, but Wyatt was our leader. There was a reason for that.

  “We know Smith was trained to be a handler. It’s unclear whether Scorpion let him go or kept him on the payroll,” Wyatt says.

  “You don’t know?” I ask. I can’t believe I’m talking to Wyatt. The real, live, not dead Wyatt. I mourned his death like a fucking sucker, while he probably laughed from the sidelines.

  “Smith is as good as dust in the wind,” Wyatt answers. “And Scorpion is locked down. It’s why I’ve come back. They’re not going to be making any moves in the next few months. Not until he’s is caught and dealt with, or at least brought in from the cold.”

  “Where’s Elizabeth?” Hadley demands.

  “The nurse?” I ask.

  Wyatt nods. “She’s safe. She had something to take care of in Miami.”

  Miami, where Dalton lives.

  Hadley must have the same thought, because she grabs my hand and edges closer to Wyatt. “Is Dalton okay?”

  He pushes his shoulders back. “He will be. But he’s seemed to run into a little bit of trouble with the mob. Elizabeth is just making sure he doesn’t do anything completely stupid.”

  “Back to you explaining yourself, please.” Someone stole a piece of my sanity, because none of this is making any fucking sense.

  “Someone tried to kill me because I uncovered a nasty bit of intel. I tried to stop their plan, and it put a big fucking target on my back. I had to go underground.” He winces. “I’m sorry about the way I went about it, but I had to make sure that they would leave you alone. I figured they would be following any and all of my communication—incoming and outgoing. If they didn’t see anything of importance, you’d be safe. I didn’t want to disrupt your lives until I had a plan.”

  “And you have a plan now?” I ask. Good ol’ Wyatt, always coming up with ways to get us in—and out—of trouble.

  “The plan is already in motion, but I need you to be ready. There may be a ripple effect heading your way.” He looks around.