Page 8 of Dark Angel

Viper—the name crawls up my spine like frostbite, resurrecting memories I’ve worked so hard to suppress. My mind should be a laser, zeroed in on finding my sister, Summer. Instead, I’m snagged on Jaden’s words: "I'm not interested in you sexually." My gut contradicts him. Every time Jaden hovers near, this weird energy pulses through me. A primal alert system I can't ignore, although I’m not sure I want to

"Why aren't you into me?" I challenge, my voice edged with even more steel. I feel the hot tension rise, our gazes lock like grappling hooks. It's a struggle not to bridge the scant inches between us and explore the texture of his stubble.

Jaden hesitates, his eyes a storm of emotions, before muttering, "Look, Rayne, let's just trade info. I'll start if you agree to follow suit."

Sly fucker, evading my question like that. I gauge him, wondering how many layers I dare peel back. Screw it; curiosity's got its hooks in me.

"You first, big guy. Start talking."

He leans into the couch, exhaling a slow breath, like he's stepping into a familiar pair of boots. "Fair deal. I want to know about Viper. He's at the top of a food chain we're trying to dismantle. His info is so coded it’s like he’s a ghost. You’ve been close to him, and from what I can see, you don’t miss much. So, we need your help.” His piercing gaze lets me know this isn't just an ordinary request.

We, not I. For reasons I refuse to examine in my fucked up mind, I wish he needed my help.

“What's in it for me?” Good sense kicks in and reminds me what dire straits I'm in. ES took everything from me when he sold me into slavery, and now I don't even have an ID on me. I need money to take care of Summer.

My breath catches as I take Jaden in, those bronze eyes piercing me like a sharpened blade. His face is unreadable, but inside his head I feel emotions rolling around like wildfire.

“That depends on what you have to offer.” He throws the words at me like a challenge.

A wicked grin spreads over my face before I can stop it. “You mean besides a hand job?”

Something about poking at Jaden relaxes me, and I'm determined to figure out why. The wacky humor slips out before I can think twice, and for some reason that makes him squirm.

His frown tells me he knows exactly what's going through my mind, yet he still asks the question. “I mean, what skills do you have?” He leaves the words "if any" unspoken but they echo between us regardless. A trickle of disappointment oozes through that strange connection I have to him.

“Lighten up. It was a joke.”

He looks at me as if it’s anything but and says nothing.

I sigh dramatically and add an eye roll for good measure. “Look, I’ll tell you what little I know about Viper, but first I need to know how I got here. You said you rescued me. How did you find out about me?”

A sly smile flickers on his lips, and a weird heat unravels me layer by layer, as if my skin can't hold what I'm feeling. I can't ignore this magnetic pull, a subconscious whisper that this guy's more dangerous to me than anyone I've ever met. I shouldn't trust him. But goddamn it, when I see that I've made him smile, something rebellious flutters in my gut.

"I'll answer your last question, but you're not going to believe me." His intense eyes hook onto mine.

I inhale sharply. "Try me."

"A tribunal of celestials sent me." His words hang heavy in the air, like a gauntlet thrown. “One of them was the angel of death, I think.”

My grin carves a defiant curve across my lips. "What, like Joe Black?" My usual caustic humor laced with an edge of disbelief bubbles from me.

The air hums, its vibrations caught in a taut wire of tension strung between us, making everything feel like a high-stakes game of poker. Neither of us is ready to show our hands, yet we're both glaring at the chips on the table. The invisible thing between us lingers, thickening the air like some forbidden incense. He squirms under the weight of my gaze, and that small quiver in his demeanor—God, it fascinates me.

This time, Jaden rolls with my humor, unsettling in its own right. "Same concept, except Joe Black is confined to the screen. Now it's my turn. Tell me about how you came to be part of Viper’s stable." His abrupt pivot catches me off guard—a skill of his I should probably get used to.

"Oh, the blame for that lands solidly on ES’s shoulders. ES stands for Evil Stepfather." My next words aim to deflect him, to make him chase after a distraction. "Could I maybe use your computer and phone?"

His eyes, those scrutinizing eyes, trap me. His eyebrow rises like a gauntlet thrown. A silent, 'Try harder, Rayne.'

"First, let's stick to ES." His relentless pursuit mirrors the indomitable focus I recognize in myself. No half-measures, no evasions.

I tilt my head, recalibrating. "Got any pot?" I'm not an open book, and although being around this guy makes me want to spill my guts, I'll be damned if I let him read me cover to cover without some herbal armor.

"Oil or leaf?"

"Both?" My voice skitters upward, an inadvertent slip revealing my eagerness.

He exits without a word, reappearing minutes later holding a metal box—a pothead's treasure trove. He leans in to show me his selection, and my pulse quickens, not from the offerings, but because of his closeness. My senses saturate in the scent of him: cleanliness overlaying an earthy, masculine base. A universe away from the olfactory offense most men are.

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