He looked at me like I was something impossible.
Not damaged.
Not dangerous.
Not Mandy’s daughter.
Not a problem being smuggled through desert land before a warrant could find me.
Something softer.
Something brighter.
Something close to hope.
That was unacceptable.
“I’m not a good angel,” I murmured.
His brows drew together. “What?”
My tongue felt thick, but the words came anyway. “I’m the bad kind. Stop looking at me like I’m hope when I’m the destroyer of hope.”
For one second, he stared.
Then he chuckled.
Low.
Warm.
It moved through his chest into my back, and I hated how good it felt.
“You think you’re a real badass, don’t you?”
“I committed multiple felonies before breakfast.”
“Allegedly.”
My mouth twitched.
“Ow.”
“Don’t smile.”
“You made me.”
“That’s going in my report.”
I turned my face slightly, trying to glare up at him.
Bad idea.
His face was too close.
Dawn caught the edge of his jaw and the dark scrape of stubble there. His eyes were nearly black in the fading starlight, but gold touched them where morning found us. He looked tired. Dirty. Beautiful in a way men like him had no right to be beautiful.
One hand shifted near my face.
