“Do what?”
“Help Grafton get his hands on the materials he wants?”
“What choice do I have?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, you turned against your own country and sided with the enemy to keep a nuclear bomb out of unsavory hands. Makes me think you’re not a man to put his own life above the greater good. You didn’t do it then. Guess I’m wondering if you’d really do it now.”
“Says the woman who used to work to bring down men like Grafton, and now here you are standing by his side.” Sonya blushed at the censure she heard in his voice. “People change.”
“Do they?” She studied him.
“All evidence points to yes.”
“I’m not so sure.”
He cocked his head. His black hair was cropped close to his scalp, but the tips had the slightest wave to them. She wondered if his hair would be curly if it was longer.
She loved curly hair on a man. Loved how the silky strands wrapped around her fingers when she speared them—
“I see you two are getting on.” Grafton’s voice had her jumping away from Angel. She realized then how much his blast-furnace body heat had wrapped around her. By contrast, the warm day felt startlingly cold.
“Yeah. We’re one big, happy family.” She didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in her voice.
Grafton leveled a warning stare at her. “A piece of advice, darling Sonya. Don’t let him”—he pointed a finger at Angel—“rub off on you. You know I’m not keen on a mouthy bitch.”
Two flags of heat burned in her cheeks. Her instinct was to fly at Grafton and scratch his eyes out of his criminal head. Luckily, good sense prevailed. “Sorry,” she muttered. If she ground her jaw any harder, her teeth might explode. “It was a momentary slip.”
“Make sure you don’t have too many more of those.”
Angel still watched her, but she couldn’t make herself meet his gaze. She was too humiliated. Plus, she didn’t want him or Grafton to see the rage burning in her eyes.
“We leave for Moldova tomorrow morning,” Grafton continued after having satisfied himself she was back to being his meek and mild personal assistant. “Can your source meet us later in the day, Majid?”
“Everyone calls me Angel.”
Grafton sighed. “Whatever. Can your source meet us tomorrow?”
“I think he can make that happen.” Angel never took his eyes off Sonya. She could feel his gaze like a physical touch, like a fist beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his unyielding stare. When she did, she didn’t like what she saw in his face. Even his non-expression revealed disappointment…and pity.
Self-disgust burned like battery acid in her stomach, bubbling up into her esophagus. She swallowed it down and winced at the sticky noise her throat made. It was a weak sound. A beaten sound. She hated it even though she knew it was exactly how she should sound.
“But I need to use the phone to call my source,” Angel added. “Just to make sure.”
“Of course.” Grafton swung his arm wide, indicating Angel should precede him into the house. Grafton didn’t allow cellular phones on the premises. Any calls had to be made on his satellite phone, both for purposes of keeping the authorities from tracing those calls and to ensure Grafton knew exactly who his flunkies phoned.
He hadn’t retained his Lord of the Damned status for as long as he had by being sloppy.
Angel didn’t turn toward Grafton immediately, instead holding Sonya’s gaze for a five-second count that left her fighting to fill her lungs with air. Then he spun on his heel and disappeared into the house.
“You’ll be coming with us, of course.” Grafton’s statement pulled Sonya’s eyes away from one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen to one of the most disgusting.
Okay, if she was completely honest, Grafton wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He carried his fifty-some-odd years well. Nary a gray hair or wrinkle in sight. His mixed heritage paired his dark skin with prominent features, making him fairly easy on the eyes. But his soul was black and decrepit, and it showed in his dead gaze and slimy smile.
“I don’t know how I can help you in Moldova,” she told him. “They speak Romanian. I don’t.”
“You’ll provide other services.” Grafton’s self-satisfied smirk made her want to puke. “And besides, after that sarcastic little outburst a moment ago, I don’t particularly trust you here alone. I thought you were finally coming to terms with your role. Now, I’m not so sure. So be a good little chit, and run along and pack your bags. We’ve an early flight tomorrow.”
Sonya wanted to tell him to go take a flying leap—or more like she wanted to copycat Angel and tell Grafton to go fuck himself—but she forced a smile and sailed past him into the house.
