Page 189 of Burn Like An Angel

“I’ll give you a fucking injury if you complain one more time.”

“Get him, Nox.” Raine yawns.

Convincing them to get back in an SUV took some pleading on Ethan’s part. I was busy fighting my own internal battle after making the decision that we would return to my home for now.

None of us have another place to go. It was this or a hotel. I have money tied up in various accounts, but Uncle Jonathan took charge of my affairs when I was shipped off to Priory Lane. I don’t even know where my purse is.

“I called Theo,” Ethan informs me. “He sent a team in to fit new locks and check the place for anything Jonathan may have installed. It’s clear. You should be able to get in.”

“Thank you.”

“Pretty sure he also installed a security system with CCTV cameras.” He casts me an unrepentant grin. “Sorry.”

“Am I going to have secret agents turning up at my door every time someone dodgy walks past?”

“I’ll keep them in check. Don’t worry.”

Placing my hand over his, I squeeze tight. “Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow to take you all into HQ to be debriefed.”

“Got it.”

Ethan nods. “Theo told me he had the team leave a couple phones inside from the company stash. My number is programmed in if you need anything.”

“Is this dude giving Ripley his number?” Lennox murmurs.

Raine huffs. “Did you miss him flirting with a guy on the phone?”

“Irrelevant,” Xander quips. “Can I rip his spine out of his throat?”

I turn around in my seat to scowl at him. “Xander! Jesus!”

He tilts his head, deadly serious. “Is that a yes?”

“No!”

“Too bad.” Shrugging, he glares at Ethan. “Well, the offer stands.”

“Ripping out people’s spines is not a proportionate response in any circumstance, and most certainly not when Ethan is trying to help us.”

“See that’s where we disagree,” he deadpans.

Popping the door open, I clamber out before he can threaten to kill anyone else. The guys all follow with Lennox helping Xander to straighten. Ethan offers us a wave then pulls away from the curb.

With a calming breath in, I turn to face my building. It’s an old, converted warehouse, swept up in London’s gentrification. I bought it when I moved out, so I’ve owned the loft apartment for several years now.

“Home.” I wave awkwardly. “Top floor.”

“This is your flat?” Lennox asks, surprised.

“Yeah, there’s an art studio combined with the living space. And I have a spare bedroom. Should be enough space for us all.”

Leading the way up the slick stone path, the entry door swings open after I tap in the security code. Thankfully, it hasn’t changed. Climbing the concrete stairwell proves to be a challenge for all of us.

As promised, my front door is unlocked, fitted with shiny new locks and a blinking camera strategically placed outside. I hesitate before pushing it open, feeling a sense of trepidation.

“What is it?” Xander drops a hand on my shoulder.

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