Page 22 of The Sinners Touch

“You’re better than that, Angel.”

“There’s nothing wrong with stripping. It pays better than any other job I’ve ever had, including bartending. What is your problem with it?”

“I have a problem because I hate that you let total strangers play grab-ass with you for money?”

Angel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Conversation was a bad idea. “I was a stripper, Kade, and I’m proud to saythat. It fed me, it clothed me, it paid for my brother’s funeral, and it gave me the money to get the hell out of Miami. Don’t try to make me feel bad about it, because you can’t.”

“It paid for Peter’s funeral? Didn’t he have life insurance?”

She shook her head. “No, I doubt it was something he even thought about at his age.”

“Did you sell the house? Surely, that paid for…”

She shook her head again. “No. The state seized everything he owned. I had nothing but the money in my personal bank account.”

His face went white, and a small corner of her mind cheered. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have called…”

“You walked out that night and didn’t look back. I got the distinct impression you never wanted to see me again. Why would I have gone looking for you even if I knew where to find you?”

“Because I cared about you and Peter both, even if you don’t believe me.”

“You cared?” The bitterness boiled over and erupted in hysterical laughter. “You cared? You arrested your best friend, and then you left your wife alone and crying after the worst moment of her life. You cared? Don’t you dare tell me you cared.”

Faster than she could blink, he’d moved around the counter and hauled her up, only to wrap his arms around her. She fought hard to get away, her fists landing with brutal efficiency on his chest, his arms. She wanted to hit him, to beat him, to make him feel the way she’d felt every day since he’d walked away from her.

“Shh,moye serdtse.” His whispered words barely penetrated the enraged fog of her grief. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” Sorry couldn’t erase the hurt, it couldn’t bring her brother back, it couldn’t do anything. Sorry was a worthless fucking word.

“Yes, Angel. It is too late, but I’m saying it anyway. I’m sorry. For everything.”

He held on and let her hit him, let her cry, let her rage. Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. She’d told him not to call her his heart, and he fucking did it anyway, damn him. Didn’t he realize how much it hurt her when he said that, knowing he didn’t mean it? The fight left her when her pain finally pushed through. Feeling his arms around her brought it to the front, and she couldn’t push it down. It washed over her like a storm.

“That’s it, baby, just let it all go.” He stroked her back in soothing circles and it did help to calm her down. He held her for the longest time then moved her to the living room, easing her down on the couch. She watched him as he went to the kitchen and wet a paper towel he then used to clean up her face.

His phone blared at him, and he picked it up. “Kincaid…Yes, thank you. I’ll be right down.” He ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. “Pizza’s here. I’m going to go get it. Will you be okay?”

She nodded, a hiccup escaping. He gave her a cautious smile and let himself out of the apartment. She curled up on the couch, her knees tucked under her chin. Exhausted. Embarrassed. Her mom once told her sometimes the only person who could fix a terrible hurt was the one who caused it. She did feel better after he let her whale on him, and the crying had cleared some of the fog of rage surrounding her.

Not that she wasn’t still angry with him. A good cry wouldn’t fix that. But at least she could breathe without wanting to scream. That had its own drawback, though. Some of the fear she’d been repressing all night slithered its way into her subconscious.

She’d faced down a serial killer.

And lived.

What the hell had she gotten herself into now?

Angel rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel some of the weariness. Sitting here feeling sorry for herself was accomplishing nothing. She got up and wandered into the kitchen, snagging her mug so she could rinse it out then load it into the dishwasher.

Nikoli had a very swanky place. She’d never thought the boy could afford something like this. All she really knew about him was that he was Kade’s little brother who sometimes wandered drunk into her bar when he needed to talk. Sure, he tipped her well, but she put that down to him having a decent job or maybe his folks sending him money while he was in school. She never would have thought he had enough money to afford something like this.

Small, painful tingles raced up her back as she leaned down and opened the dishwasher. She was starting to feel the effects of a long night on her feet. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, working an eight-hour shift at the bar tomorrow was going to be hell. One thing bartenders and servers alike learned early on was to take care of your feet and your back.

Angel heard the key in the lock and looked up to see Kade come in, three large pizza boxes balanced precariously in one hand. Alarm spread across his face when he saw she wasn’t on the couch where he’d left her.

“Angel?” He kicked off his shoes and glanced toward the stairs first.

She turned toward the cupboards and started looking for plates. She wasn’t ready to talk quite yet. Exactly four plates sat alone in the cupboard. Kade hadn’t been joking when he said they’d cleaned the place out. Taking out two of the heavy white plates, she turned back to Kade, who had found his way to the kitchen.

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