Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels)

by Gail, Stacy

  Wounded Angel

  By Stacy Gail

  Book three in The Earth Angels

  A descendant of the Angel of Vengeance, Nate da Luca was gifted with an uncanny ability to find things. It made his job as a detective a breeze—until he learned the hard way that some things should remain hidden. After that, his powers vanished, along with his belief in himself. Which is going to make tracking down Gabriella Littlefield for his latest client a challenge.

  Personal trainer Ella Little paid a hefty price for her life—now all she wants is to live it in peace. Then a sexy hulk of a man turns up in her gym, reigniting desires she thought she’d left behind along with her real name and hair color.

  Desires she can’t deny even after she discovers Nate’s no stranger to her dark past.

  Before he can convince her the attraction is mutual, Nate’s going to have to earn Ella’s trust. But a demon is playing for keeps in the world of humans, using Ella as bait, and the last thing they have is time...

  Go back to the beginning with Nobody’s Angel, available now!

  63,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  The month of May always brings, for me, the promise of new beginnings. I realize that it’s actually nearly the end of spring, but for some reason, I love the idea of May and that it means summer is coming and the fun is really about to begin!

  This month, very fitting for my excitement about new beginnings, we have three debut authors with stories releasing. Brighton Walsh joins Carina Press with her charming contemporary romance Plus One, where lifelong friends find deep-seated feelings growing into something more than friendship. Meanwhile, debut author Shawna Reppert has crafted a unique and captivating fantasy romance world in her male/male romance The Stolen Luck. Joining these two authors with a debut is S.G. Wong with the first Lola Starke novel, Die on Your Feet. Not only is this an unusual mix of mystery, paranormal and noir, but this book also has a striking cover that captured my imagination from the first look.

  Although not a debut author, Tamara Morgan joins Carina Press with the first in a new contemporary romance series. In The Rebound Girl, an outgoing plastic surgeon gets more than she bargained for when she offers to be the rebound girl for a sexy kindergarten teacher getting over his recent breakup.

  Along with new beginnings also come bittersweet goodbyes, and this month we wrap up Jax Garren’s fantastic science-fiction trilogy Tales of the Underlight. This series has kept us all on the edges of our seats with both the sexual tension between Hauk and Jolie and the fight to take out the Order of Ananke. Don’t miss the final installment, How Beauty Loved the Beast. Also wrapping up a trilogy this month, though on the opposite end of the romance spectrum, is contemporary romance author Kate Davies, offering the final installment of her high-school reunion trilogy, Girls Most Likely to..., with Life of the Party.

  As well, we have exciting offerings from a variety of veteran Carina Press authors this month. Jeffe Kennedy’s Ruby takes us to a contemporary world of BDSM and a sexy Cajun chef during the sensuality of New Orleans’s Mardis Gras. And last month saw the release of Volume 1 of our Love Letters anthologies. This month, discover four hot stories with a military twist in Love Letters Volume 2: Duty to Please.

  Sandy James, Shawna Thomas, Cathy Pegau and Stacy Gail all return to previously established worlds in their respective books. In Sandy James’s The Brazen Amazon, the Air Amazon is sent to protect computer wizard Zach from a rogue goddess who wants to use him to destroy the world. Journey of Dominion, book two of The Triune Stones series from Shawna Thomas, continues the story of Sara, trained from birth for one purpose: to reunite three ancient stones to restore balance to the lands.

  Female/female romance Deep Deception by Cathy Pegau follows the harrowing story of a beautiful agent and the woman she has no choice but to trust...until the secrets they’re each keeping threaten to get them both killed. And the plan for a demonic apocalypse is at last uncovered by a maimed member of the Nephilim and a scarred young woman who’s been to hell and back in Stacy Gail’s Wounded Angel, book three of The Earth Angels.

  Last but certainly not least, Dee J. Adams brings us the next installment in her high-octane Adrenaline Highs series with romantic suspense Living Dangerously. If you’re new to Dee’s books, you can easily start here, or go back to the beginning with Dangerous Race.

  This month, start a new series, revisit a favorite world or discover a new-to-you author with our May releases. And don’t forget to check out our catalog for backlist from these and other authors in all your preferred genres.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Dedication

  To Dr. Patti Metzger, Ph.D. Not only am I grateful for all that you shared with me about exposure therapy for trauma victims, I’m also grateful for the work you do with wounded warriors. I know it takes its toll on you, but you never falter in trying to help wherever and whenever you can. In your own way, you are just as much a hero as they are.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “Do you want to be helpless? Are you happy with the idea of being someone’s prey? If so, quit now and let the pain win. Quit, I say! But, if you refuse to be a victim, let’s do another five reps!”

  Deaf to the heavy metal beat thrumming through the kickboxing gym, Ella Little crouched in front of the long black bag she’d already beaten to within an inch of its life, and went through the drill for what felt like the millionth time. The combination was a tricky one—three sharp left jabs and a fast uppercut right, then into two side knee strikes, aiming for the ribs or kidneys. Next was a flurry of half a dozen close-in body punches and an elbow strike before a front kick to gain space, then finishing off with a pivoting roundhouse kick to the head.

  Balance, speed, power. A kill shot in each hit. In order for it to be effective in real life, putting deadly intent behind each hit was the way it had to be trained.

  One.

  Within The Body Electric’s cavernous kickboxing training room—or the Doom Room, as the more dedicated gym members called it—people were dropping like flies. No surprise there. The trainer was Jacob Braun, perpetually rabid and an agent of Mossad before deciding to retire to Chicago to tortur
e its unsuspecting residents. He was in fine form this blustery March evening; with his eyes bulging and veins popping, he looked like a man who’d missed his daily dose of anti-psychotics. His salt-and-pepper hair was shaved so that it was little more than bristles, and he didn’t need the microphone headgear as he screamed his peculiar brand of motivation while his mad eyes swept the room for easy prey. Ella hardly noticed her co-worker and friend as he pounced on a flagging gym member, far more intent on letting the power sing through each fluid punch and kick.

  Two.

  Though she loved her job as a personal trainer and self-defense instructor at The Body Electric, this was Ella’s favorite part of the week—kickboxing with Jacob. Where else was it legally possible to let her violent flag fly, and even better, have it encouraged? The front kick snapped out, zinging all the way up to her hip, and she couldn’t stop the fierce smile. That one would have buckled an opponent’s knee, no problem, and that knowledge shot satisfaction through her system. That was what this class was all about—survival. Survival of both Jacob’s wild-eyed instruction, and survival of the darkness that could swallow a person whole.

  The kind of darkness that had once done its best to swallow her.

  Three.

  Man, she was tired.

  To keep her mind off the lava-hot burn of lactic acid in her quads, biceps and deltoids, Ella tightened her pink-gloved fists and let her gaze wander to her neighbors. One of them was bent at the waist with his hands on his knees in a position that showed he was either in the process of regaining his breath or about to hurl. Another was barely managing to lift her foot high enough to reach the bag. Jacob would make them pay for their weakness.

  Four.

  Her bag jounced with the impact of her kick, and its movement coincided with another bag off to her right and ahead a few rows. Someone else was determined not to incur Jacob’s wrath, if the bag’s violent dancing was any indication. Her attention drifted to the man working the bag over like it had done him dirty, and her well-oiled rhythm skipped a beat.

  Hello.

  He was a newcomer to their gym, but certainly no newbie to working out. She was sure he was new, because even if the traumas in her former life hadn’t locked her emotions up inside and thrown away the key, she still would have noticed this living testament to testosterone-infused eye-candy the moment he walked through the doors. It was impossible not to notice him. The expanse of his shoulders bared by a tank top could have given Atlas a run for his Titan-y money. The rest of him was just as spectacular; he was a well-proportioned giant in a world that appeared to be toddler-sized by comparison. Like her, his black hair was damp with sweat, and long enough to tumble in waving abandon over his forehead. His sharply angled brows hooded intense eyes that even from this distance she could see were the color of onyx. There was a leanness to his face that granted him a hungry look, with high cheekbones shadowing concave cheeks darkened by a five o’clock shadow, and the faint sneer snarling his upper lip would have done an Elvis impersonator proud. If anything, he looked like he wanted to tear his punching bag a new one and was ready to do it with his bare—

  “Are you enjoying your daydream, Ella?”

  Her attention snapped back to reality so hard she thought it might have made a noise. With a sinking heart she realized that while she was checking out the vision of sweat-slick masculine perfection a few bags over, Jacob had prowled toward her with all the accuracy of a shark aiming for blood in the water.

  Whoops.

  “No daydreams here, Jacob.” With renewed focus she attacked the bag in hopes of impressing him. “Just working the reps.”

  “And do you know what rep we’re on?”

  “Of course I do.” She could bluff with the best of them.

  “What number?”

  Shit. “Four?”

  A vein pulsed down the middle of Jacob’s corrugated forehead. “You’re on your sixth rep, which must mean you feel I’m not working you hard enough. Do you think I’m not working you hard enough, Ella?”

  “Um...”

  “Thank you for the suggestion. Everyone, Ella feels we should do more, so that’s what we’re going to do. Five more reps, double-time!”

  It was a wonder she didn’t fall dead under all the lethal stares.

  At long last the torture came to an end. The man who had been bent over stumbled from the room while a few others simply dropped where they stood. Ella didn’t bother to look around to what the newcomer was up to; in all probability he was wishing her six feet under like the rest of the class.

  “I take it you really like kickboxing?”

  In the process of toweling off her face and wishing she could strip out of her high-necked, long-sleeved black compression shirt before she passed out from heat exhaustion, Ella whirled around. Every nerve kicked into high gear as she zeroed in on the man she’d noted earlier, now only a handful of feet away. First Jacob, and now a stranger had snuck up on her. That went against her main survival rule of always being aware of who was around her. This could not be allowed.

  “I suppose.” Snappy comebacks weren’t a consideration when her touchy ideals of personal security were compromised. In a world that was far more dangerous than it appeared, getting caught off-guard was an absolute no-no. “Sorry about the extra reps.”

  His smile was a slanted work of art, designed for the sole purpose of staggering the planet’s female population. “Don’t be. I need the work, and this was a fun way to do it.”

  “I don’t think fun would be the word everyone would use to describe Jacob’s advanced kickboxing class.”

  “It’s all in the motivation. Take me, for instance—I’m not happy unless I’m pushed to my limit. Not that I’m a big believer in limits.”

  Somehow this wasn’t a shocker. “I think a few people in class hit theirs.”

  “You didn’t. You were hitting just as hard at the end as you were at the beginning.”

  So he’d noticed her. Ella had no idea if this was a good thing or bad thing. “I’m a trainer here at The Body Electric, certified in strength and conditioning, self-defense and sports medicine. If I can’t take whatever Jacob dishes out, I don’t deserve to work here.” Then she closed her mouth with a click. Good grief, it must be her evening for breaking personal rules. Information meant power, and personal information gave power over her to people who had no right to it. Yet she’d just offered up a cartload of her new life to a perfect stranger like she didn’t know any better. It was like she’d forgotten every stay-alive lesson she’d picked up in the past two years.

  Who knew she was such a sucker for a pretty face?

  “A personal trainer, huh?” His knockout smile widened, and she made herself look to the task of folding her towel before she blurted her Social Security number and cup size. “That explains it. No wonder I couldn’t keep up with you.”

  Ella had to bite her tongue to keep from assuring him that he’d kept up just fine. If she did that, he would know she had been watching him, and that would lead to a conversational brick wall. She didn’t want him to know she’d been aware of his existence. She didn’t want to notice him, period.

  Disgusted with her tangled thoughts, she tried to appear professionally aloof as she back-pedaled in the direction of Jacob, snatching up the gym bag that doubled as her bug-out kit. Packed with all the essentials she’d need in an emergency that covered everything from earthquakes to zombie attacks, she never went anywhere without it. “Take a few more of Jacob’s classes and you’ll be up to speed in no time. Have a nice evening.”

  “Hey—”

  “Bye now.” As she turned away, she winced at the faint wisp of the South rolling through the words, overcoming her carefully crafted Chicago-Midwestern monotone. Not good. Tiny imperfections like that might not mean much in the grand scheme of things, but those little things added up. If sh
e wasn’t careful, she’d find herself having to pull up stakes before someone found her.

  * * *

  Out of the corner of his eye, Nate watched as the woman made her retreat. She looped her large gym bag’s shoulder strap across her body, all the while talking to the bristle-haired sadist who’d ground his kickboxing class into the dust. She was an animated little thing, gesturing with graceful hands as she offered up what looked to be a heartfelt mea culpa with big, dark puppy eyes.

  Pretty eyes, certainly. Too bad they weren’t the color he remembered.

  Bent over his own bag, he wrapped his towel around a holstered semi-automatic pistol, usually secured at the small of his back but now hidden in the bottom of his gym bag. But his attention never veered from his target, watching her out of the corner of his eye and cataloguing every detail. Aside from her gender, her height was about the only accurate thing about her—somewhere around five-six or five-seven. Her build was vastly different from the woman he’d met two years ago. This woman was built like a long-distance runner—all long, lean limbs and finely toned muscle covered in form-fitting workout gear. According to his memory, the woman he was looking for had more meat on her bones. That was definitely his personal preference.

  And when she’d looked at him, there had been no recognition. He’d done his best to catch her off-guard, but when her gaze had met his there had been no telltale reaction at all. At least, not on her end. He, on the other hand, was still recovering.

  Keeping her in his peripheral view, he absently rubbed a hand over his brow. The way she’d nailed him with that unwavering, bring-it-on regard sent an electrical jolt of hot awareness through his system, momentarily short-circuiting his brain. Beauty he could handle—she was a knockout, no doubt about it—but the power to throw him for a loop with a single glance was flat-out stunning. There was nothing about her he didn’t find appealing; he even liked the lyrical way she moved, as though gravity didn’t affect her as much as it did everyone else. The way she wore her hair, boyishly short and asymmetrical, made him want to brush the long black bangs out of her face so he could look into those puppy eyes.