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“And there she is, the badass mofo who doesn’t take shit from anybody,” Claire murmured with a smirk, plucking a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table.
Angela laughed, accepting it gratefully. She wiped her face and noisily blew her nose. She was sure she looked like a mess, but she was no longer feeling confused. “I know what I want to do,” she said.
“Hit me with it,” Claire invited, gesturing with her hand. “I’m not a ninja or a criminal mastermind like everyone else in this building. But I’m game.”
“It doesn’t require ninja skills. More’s the pity,” Angela added, sharing a smile with Claire. “I want to go to work.”
Claire’s face lost some of its excitement. “You want to go to work?”
“Yes. I want to live my life with as much normalcy as I can. I thrive on routine and I’m happiest when I’m busy. I became a doctor to help people, to heal them. And that’s what I’m going to do. Roman and his merry band of criminals can hunt down the monster from my past. I’m going to stay in the present.”
“It sounds a little boring to me,” Claire muttered, grinning when Angela glared at her. “But I support you. There’s just one problem...”
“The Foreman?” Angela guessed.
Claire shook her head. “No.” She cocked her head when male voices floated down the hallway, getting louder and louder. “Roman.”
Angela winced, understanding completely what Claire meant. He was not going to be happy with her decision. “I know he can be a little intense and protective...” she began.
Claire’s eyes widened. “A little? Angela, if you looked up the definition of ‘touch her and die,’ you’d see a photo of Romano Vincenzo.”
Angela had no comeback because it was the literal truth. She watched him enter the room, his gaze finding her as if pulled by a magnet. And it kind of was, she thought. Their connection had been there since the very beginning. Even when she wasn’t around him, she could feel him. And when he was around? Well, the feeling was bone deep. His toffee eyes ran over her face and his soft expression was quickly replaced by a scowl. She couldn’t help grinning. She loved his grumpy face.
“Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?” Roman demanded, closing the gap between them. He cupped her face before pinning Claire with a dark look. “What did you do to make her upset?”
Claire gave Roman a bland look. “I didn’t make her upset. The Foreman did that when he sold her like a piece of meat. All the men and women who abused Angela made her upset. That’s not on me. And it’s not on her.”
Claire stood up, whistling shrilly. Mario and Luigi trotted over, their tongues hanging out and big doggy grins on their faces. The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone looked equally uncomfortable and horrified, but Claire simply walked in the direction of the kitchen. She paused. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, it’s not on you either, Roman.”
Even though it was totally inappropriate, Angela couldn’t help laughing over the stupefied faces of Roman, Abel, Sal, and Morrigan. Roman turned to her, asking, “When did Mouse grow balls?”
“I can still hear you,” Claire yelled from the kitchen, where she was getting water for the dogs. “Stop calling me Mouse, damnit!”
Roman frowned and Angela reached up to smooth the lines away. “Claire has always had balls. They’ve just been hiding.”
Morrigan sauntered over, collapsing onto the couch and scooping up one cat in each arm. She looked at Abel. “Kind of like the way yours were when we went swimming in Moreton Lake that time. At least, that’s what you said.”
“It was the middle of winter!” Abel defended himself. “It was freezing!”
The tension dissipated, and Angela left Roman’s arms to stand in front of Abel. “I believe you.” When Abel looked down at the floorboards, Angela stomped her foot. “Stop that! Look at me.”
He looked up briefly but didn’t meet her eyes. “Abel, I’m still me. Please don’t be scared or sad to look at me. Or to talk to me. That goes for all of you. I know I asked Roman to explain the situation because I was afraid and ashamed. But I’m not anymore. Claire helped me. And she’s right to say it out loud. She’s right to put words to what was done to me. The issue of the Foreman, or Godfrey, or whoever he really is, isn’t going to go away. We’re going to need to talk about it. We’re going to need to communicate without fear. So, please, Abel, will you look at me?”
Angela held her breath, waiting for her large friend to respond. When he did, his eyes were glassy with emotion, but his face was carefully blank. It was a look she recognized from Roman. It meant he was detached. And that just wouldn’t do. “I know it’s hard to hear bad things about people you care about. But don’t back away from me. Don’t stop treating me like your annoying captive turned best buddy. The Foreman has taken enough from me. I won’t let him take you, too.”
The room was silent as Abel seemed to fight an internal battle. Eventually, his shoulders slumped, and he held out his arms, making grabby fingers. She stepped forward, and he squeezed her with his big Hulk arms. Angela hugged him back, relieved beyond words.
Clearing his throat, Abel stepped back, looking sheepish. “I’m not good with this stuff.”
She smiled at him. “Oh, I don’t think you’re so bad at it.” She winked and was charmed when a blush rose to his cheeks. “We good?”
He held out his fist, which Angela dutifully bumped. “We’re good.” He turned to Roman. “You’re damn lucky you claimed her first.”
Roman scoffed. “As if Angel would have had you.” But he did stride quickly across the room, pulling her into his arms and out of Abel’s reach.
“Please. I’ve never had a woman turn me down,” he said in true cocky Abel fashion.
“I did,” Morrigan volunteered, rolling bullets across the floor for the cats to chase. “Countless times. And over many, many years.”
