“I don’t know,” she whispered, realizing that weeks ago her answer would have been Paris, a decade in the past and lying in bed with Mark as they watched the moon rise over the Sacré-Cœur. But things had changed. She had changed the moment Angel appeared at Grafton Manor. “Where would you be?”
“Too easy,” he rasped. “The beach. Sand and sun and surf and an Arak Attack in hand.”
She shuddered. “Yuck. Arak is that stuff that tastes like black licorice, right?”
“Anise,” he corrected.
“My dad used to drink it when he was stationed in Jerusalem.”
“Jerusalem is where you learned to speak Hebrew,” he said. Not asked. Said.
She pushed up to look at him, forgetting she couldn’t see two inches in front of her face. “How do you know that?”
“An educated guess. Am I right?”
“Yes, but—”
“So come on. Think.” He cut her off. “Where would you like to be right now?”
“I guess I’d like to join you on that beach,” she whispered. “But no Arak Attack. Maybe a mojito. Or a mai tai.”
He rumbled his approval, pulling her so close their mouths nearly touched. “Good answer,” he whispered.
She wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss her too. Straddling him made his interest obvious. But the second their lips touched, they’d be oblivious to anything else. And that would never do.
To divert both their attentions, she murmured softly, “I think you should let your hair grow out.” She pulled a strand gently. “It’s curly, isn’t it? When it’s long, I mean?”
He was silent for a moment. When he answered, his voice was somehow lower and quieter than before. “Yes.”
“You’d look good with long hair. Devilish.” She smiled when she thought about it. “Every angel needs a little devil in him, am I right?”
He didn’t answer. Simply cupped her head and pulled her down until her cheek rested against his shoulder and his warm neck brushed against her lips. She relaxed against him. Or at least she tried to, but there was something…
Then it hit her.
She’d said he could choose any place on the planet, and he’d chosen the beach. Just like Mark.
Coincidence, she quickly admonished herself. It’s just another coinci—
She didn’t finish her thought. A loud thump sounded behind the door at the top of the stairs, and her blood ran cold.
The enemy was at the gate…
Chapter 32
Angel would have loved to spend the rest of the night—no, the rest of his life—with Sonya straddling him, her breath hot against his neck. Unfortunately, their time had run out.
One arm around her, his free hand clutching the grip of the Glock, he shoved to his feet. Finding her wrist in the darkness, he pulled her behind him and made sure to position them both directly between the big turbine and the cold concrete wall.
He didn’t delude himself with thoughts that help had arrived. Had it been the Knights behind that door at the top of the stairs, they would have announced themselves or called his name. Same went for his SIS contact.
Adjusting his grip on the semi-auto, he tallied up how many rounds he had left. He’d used two on Grafton’s goons in the café. So…fifteen. He needed to make each shot count.
When he felt Sonya curl trembling fingers into his waistband, he reached back and gave her hand a squeeze. It wasn’t much in the way of reassurance, but it was all he could offer.
Time to dance.
