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“Yeah. Anytime. You guys are fun,” Torque piped up with a grin. “If you need any help taking this guy down, let us know. He sounds like he’s in need of a good killing.”
Roman nodded, his lips quirking. He had a feeling Torque was the male equivalent of Morrigan. “Thanks. I will. But I’ve got this.”
Torque dipped his head. “I believe you do. Happy hunting.”
Roman was at the door when he realized Morrigan still wasn’t with him. Turning, he found her staring at Angela’s parents intensely. She hadn’t moved an inch. He knew that look. She was about to slice and dice. He approved wholeheartedly, but he’d given his word to Angel. “Morrigan,” he said sharply.
He could see the indecision on her face, and for a moment, he thought he was going to have to intervene, but then her frame relaxed. She bent down closer to the husband and wife. They tried to move away as far as their bonds would allow, but it was futile. Morrigan whispered something to them, too low for Roman to hear. But the look of panic and terror on their faces was enough for him to know Morrigan had threatened them.
She skipped her way over to him, and they made their way back downstairs.
“What did you say to them?” he asked in a low, steely voice, still trying to reign in his emotions.
“Nothing,” Morrigan replied, as she fished out her phone and sent a text to the rest of their team.
Roman grunted. “Yeah. It looked like a whole lot of nothing. The old guy pissed his pants.” He’d noticed the rapidly spreading dark patch on Harold’s crotch when Morrigan had moved away from them.
Morrigan shrugged. “I just told them some hard truths. We heading straight home?” she asked, changing the subject.
Roman allowed it. He’d had enough of Harold and Jill Hawthorne to last a lifetime. “One more stop. Then home.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Angela woke with a gasp, cold sweat dotting her forehead and chest. She was wearing one of Roman’s shirts, and although they were usually super comfy, this one was stuck to her.
The nightmare wasn’t unexpected under the circumstances, but it still left her feeling off balance. She touched the sheets next to her. They were cool, indicating Roman hadn’t returned yet. A quick look at the bedside clock told her it was still shy of seven in the morning. She wasn’t expecting him home for several more hours.
After her last-minute phone call to him the night before, she had refrained from messaging or calling again. She didn’t want to distract him. She was also afraid to hear what had happened with her parents. She wasn’t worried about Roman losing control and killing them. She trusted him to keep his word. But she was anxious about how he would feel when he got back. Would he look at her differently now that he knew where she came from?
She flopped back onto her pillows, blinking at her reflection, and used the top sheet to wipe the sweat from her face. She couldn’t believe she slept in a bed with a mirror above it. “I’m such a deviant,” she commented out loud.
Twin meows made her smile, and she leaned over the edge of the bed to find Smithy and Wes trotting her way. She wiggled her fingers, and the cats leaped for them, getting tangled in her hair as they swiped at the strands and each other.
“Good morning, boys. What mischief have you two been up to?” she asked them playfully.
“They ran through the apartment like they were hopped up on crack all night,” Luca answered for the frisky felines as he walked in the room.
“They do that sometimes,” Angela replied, smiling at Roman’s baby brother. He had insisted on having a sleepover with her while Roman was gone. He, Claire, Abel, and Sal had camped out in the living room until the early hours of the morning. Abel had walked Claire back to her room when she couldn’t keep her eyes open thanks to the pain meds she was still on. But he had come right back and stayed the night with the other two men. The protection hadn’t been necessary. But the company had been nice.
“I’m glad they’re yours and not mine then,” Luca grumbled, climbing into bed with her. “How are you doing? You don’t look like you slept well.”
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I had a bad dream.”
Luca grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry. Can I get you anything?”
She smiled at him. “I’m fine. Truly. Nightmares are nothing new. I just miss Roman.”
“I understand. About the nightmares,” Luca clarified. “Not about Roman. He’s been gone one night.”
Angela moaned and covered her face with a pillow. “I know. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”
“You’re in love,” Luca corrected her, yanking the pillow off. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“So wonderful,” she snarked. “I’m mooning over my boyfriend and I’m a bundle of nerves when he isn’t around. I used to mock people like me. And now, here I am, a kept woman.”
Luca burst into laughter. “A kept woman? Hardly. I heard you made Roman get on his knees and beg forgiveness.”
Angela gaped at Luca. “How did you hear that? Claire told you?”
