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“I think she means Godfrey. He was the only one here. He and his two guys,” Colt clarified, looking worried.
“He came out of your office...”
Roman’s gaze flew back to Angela when she spoke again, her voice a thin whisper. “He’s a work associate,” Roman explained. “He often hires personal security from us whenever he’s in town. He has for years.”
“Years...” Angela repeated, her lips barely moving. She was pale, almost sickeningly so.
“Angel, what is it?” Roman asked. He reached out once more but hesitated to touch her. She didn’t look like she wanted his touch. Which was crazy, given the way her body had opened to his and fit him like a glove just hours ago. “Did he say something to you?”
Footsteps sounded behind him, and he reacted defensively, reaching for the gun holstered under his suit jacket. He had it raised in a split second. Abel and Salvatore came to an abrupt halt. Roman swore, lowering the gun, but he didn’t put it away. He wouldn’t do that until he knew what the fuck was going on.
“What’s the deal?” Abel asked, frowning at the gun. His expression quickly morphed into a mix of anger and concern as he took in Angela’s shaken form. “Angel?”
“I don’t know,” Roman murmured, focusing on Angela once more. “Angel, talk to me. Please.”
Her eyes flicked to the elevator again before returning to his apprehensively. She licked her lips, croaking, “He’s the Foreman.”
Roman stilled. He blinked. Then blinked again, his brain not comprehending what she was saying for a moment—nor the implications. He didn’t ask her if she was sure. He already knew she was, thanks to the haunted look on her face. His blood froze in his veins as fury flooded his system, followed closely by nausea. He breathed deeply, trying to get his emotions under control. And also because he had no idea what the fuck to do or say.
“Who the fuck is the Foreman?”
Abel’s voice boomed out, and Roman watched Angel cringe and bury her head in her arms once more. When she began to shake, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He scooped her up, unsure whether to be relieved or worried when she didn’t struggle. He much preferred the spitfire to the fearful, pliant woman in his arms. He marched down the corridor, taking her to the boardroom a few doors down from his office. He didn’t want her in the same space her abuser had been in minutes before.
“Seriously, who is the Foreman, and why does Angel have that look on her face?” Abel demanded roughly, following him.
Roman placed Angel gently on the leather couch, taking off his suit jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. Her skin felt like ice. He ignored the very protective Abel and Salvatore, addressing Colt instead. “Get some men and see if you can catch up to Godfrey. Take him by any means necessary. Go. Now!”
Colt ran off, no questions asked, and Roman was glad. If Godfrey had recognized Angel in return, then the chances of capturing the man were slim to none. Because he would have rabbited the moment he got out of the elevator. But Roman had to try. “Did he recognize you? Does he know who you are?”
Angela looked down at the gentle hand Roman had placed on her knee before nodding her head. “Yes. I’m positive he did.”
“Shit!” Roman exclaimed.
Salvatore moved closer, a heavy frown on his face. “What’s going on? Tell us so we can help.”
Before Roman could open his mouth, Angela gripped his hand tightly, her fingernails breaking the skin. “Don’t tell them. Please, Roman,” she begged. “I don’t want them to know. It’s too embarrassing.”
It took everything in him not to lash out—at anything and everything. Angela felt embarrassed. Embarrassed and ashamed, if he was reading her face correctly. He reached out slowly, cupping her face with his other hand. “The shame is not yours, mio angelo.”
When Angela shook her head, not saying anything, Roman nodded once and dropped his hand. He turned to Sal and Abel, saying, “Nobody. He’s nobody.”
“What the fuck?!” Abel exclaimed. “Bullshit! Tell us what the hell is going on. Did that fucker hurt Angel?”
Abel looked like he was about to blow a gasket. And Roman didn’t blame him. Still, he stayed silent, looking helplessly at the love of his life. The woman who brought light to his shadowed world and made him a better version of himself. And how do I repay that? he thought bitterly. By working with the man who broke her in the first place.
The knowledge was enough to have bile rushing up his esophagus, and he was forced to swallow several times. He would have time later to deal with the consequences of his actions. For now, Angela was all that mattered. And finding the Foreman, or Godfrey—or whatever the hell he calls himself, he added silently.
Predictably, Abel lost his patience with Roman’s silence and began to move in aggressively. Roman stood up, blocking his path to Angela. He wasn’t afraid Abel would hurt her; he loved Angela in a purely platonic, best friend, big brother kind of way. A fact Roman appreciated and approved of. But it meant he was very touchy when it came to her safety, health, and happiness. Thankfully, Salvatore stepped in front of Abel, chest-bumping him backwards before Roman used his second-in-command as an outlet for his own spiraling emotions.
“Abel, let it go for now,” Sal warned.
Abel glared at him. “Are you kidding me? Something is very wrong.” He turned his furious gaze on Roman, once again demanding answers. “What did he do?”
Before Roman could speak and lose control, Salvatore took over. “It doesn’t matter what he did. Only Angel matters. Right, Abel?” He cupped the back of Abel’s neck, squeezing and giving him a small shake. “Right?!” When he finally received a nod from the bigger man, Sal let go and turned to Roman. “What can we do to help?”
Roman nodded to his friend in thanks. Abel was a hothead, and although Roman understood, he didn’t have time to deal with Abel’s big emotions. Not when he was on the verge of losing it himself. Angel was precious to all of them. He was glad his friends loved and cherished her—he truly was. But his priority was Angel and what she wanted. And if she didn’t want them to know about her past, then he would keep the horrible truth to himself until his dying days. No matter how Abel felt about it.
“Find Godfrey,” Roman replied simply.
