Angel's Hero

Chapter 20

He eased himself from the bed.
Turning back, he looked down at the woman sprawled amongst the sheets.
She'd surprised him with the voraciousness of her sexual appetite, as they had gone at it throughout the night, exhausting each other.
Jenna might be small, but she'd proved she could withstand his strength, and had relished in his perversions, enjoying it as he'd tied her to the frame. She'd thrilled at his tight hold around her neck, and had exploded around him as he'd pinched and twisted flesh, drawing blood.
She stirred now as he looked at the bed, still naked.
He was ready for another round, and judging by the look on her face as she took in his fierce erection, she was too.
But they couldn't.
He had work to do.
It was time for the second step in his plan.
Grabbing his clothes, he went to the bathroom.
He'd rented a small cottage, far outside of town, one that was well hidden by the trees, and one that required an off-road vehicle to reach.
It was perfect for what he had planned.
Right now, he took his time in the dark, not wanting to turn the light on. He felt his true self when no one could see him, where he could let his mask slip.
He'd already packed the materials into the unassuming pickup truck he'd bought outside of Portland, currently parked to the side of the dilapidated cottage that he had no intention of fixing up, even if he had told the landlord that he was interested renting long-term.
He left the bathroom.
"When will you be back?" Jenna was sitting up in the bed, rubbing her eyes.
"As soon as it's done. No point sticking around there," he leaned over the bed and kissed her.
She'd helped keep the cops off his trail when she'd fed them incorrect information about which direction he had gone after the robbery.
She sighed, happily. Dreamy eyes met his.
"Remember, I'm doing this for us," he returned her gaze and saw the tears.
"You're so good to me. How did I get so lucky?" she whispered, smiling.
He wanted to laugh in her face.
She was so gullible. So pathetic.
But he needed her, at least for a little while longer, so he kissed her again. "I'm the lucky one. I only want you to be happy."
And with that, he left.
He had some fire-starting to do.

*

Conner lay on his side, looking at Angel.
Her back to him, her hands under her cheek while she slept. The sheet was pulled down over her hip, leaving her top half exposed.
The shape she presented brought his hand to her shoulder, tempting him to outline her figure and commit it to memory. He trailed his hand down over her side and back up again.
He studied the tattoo in the middle of her back between her shoulder blades.
It was a tiny cartoon angel, blonde hair, big blue eyes, and little wings. It reminded him of a sexy cartoon originating in the thirties; the little angel with it's tight white dress and pointed feet as it lounged back with it's legs crossed.
He moved his hand down the center of her spine, down to where she had another tattoo just above the crease of her buttocks. It was a faded tribal design he knew had been a favorite at the turn of the millennium, the black ink had turned to a dark green over time.
It made him smile to think that Angel had succumbed to the 'tramp stamp' era. He wondered what she had been like back then.
Pulling the sheet down, he exposed her to the backs of her knees.
On her upper thigh was a more detailed design he'd only glimpsed before. He shifted to get a closer look.
It involved two mermaids swimming around a glowing orb, thorny vines and a oriental dragon coiling around the mermaids, who were circling the orb.
He hadn't a clue what it meant, but he found the dark artwork appealing.
But it was nowhere near as appealing as the woman who was now looking at him.
She had rolled her top half backwards, her arms above her head, exposing those glorious breasts to him. Without hesitating he nuzzled the closer one.
Giggling, she turned to face him fully.
He travelled up to her mouth, dropping kisses along the way.
"Morning," he said against her lips.
Sighing and smiling, she responded. "Morning to you, too."
He rolled onto her.
"Sleep well?" He settled his weight onto her fully, breathing in her scent at the base of her neck. And entered her.
Angel responded immediately by arching her back, and spreading her legs wide, her fingers pressing into the flesh of his hips, pulling him deeper.
"God, Conner," she panted.
He took his time, relishing in the sounds he could draw from her. Her response made him feel all-powerful, like a god amongst men. A man could get used to this.
A little while later, he heard Angel singing in the shower. It brought a smile to his face.
He was perusing the menu, deciding on what they should eat for breakfast. He was starved.
His intention in coming here last night had been to stop her from sleeping with another man, for a ridiculous reason.
He'd told himself that he would get here, stop her, and then... what?
He hadn't been able to get past the thought of what she'd come to Portland to do.
"She's gone to meet some guy to get her virginity out the way, so that you'll be with her," Robert had said.
Those words had started one of the fiercest streaks of jealousy within him that he'd ever experienced. Michelle had sent him the name of the hotel Angel was staying at and he'd driven straight there.
All he'd known was that he had to stop her. He hadn't been able to think of what he would do once he'd stopped her.
Date her? Get to know her so that he could figure out if maybe he could actually see a future with her, and not break his own moral code?
He'd spent so much time during the week after their photo shoot popping in to see her at the bakery, that if he didn't see her, he felt lost. Incomplete almost.
Was he beginning to care for her? Did she care for him?
So many questions.
Every single one of them had flown from his head as he'd stood in front of her door last night, and seen her. The moment she'd opened the door, he'd known what he had been about to do.
And as soon as he'd acknowledged it, nothing, no force in the world could have stopped him.
Conner had to stop thinking about those moments; when he'd stepped through the door and into her arms, and into her bed, and into her, or else he'd end up in the shower with her.
Actually... that wasn't such a bad idea.
Smiling, dropping the menu, he turned to join her.
His cell phone rang. He almost didn't answer it.
As Sheriff, he couldn't ignore it.
"Grayson," he barked into the device, angry at the interruption.
"Sir, there's been a fire," Easton Donoghue said into the line.
Conner could hear the sirens in the background on the other side of the line. "Where?"
"Angel's Bakery."
"Dammit, how bad?" Conner turned his head and looked at Angel as she stepped from the bathroom, steam swirling around her, her hair wet and dripping. She looked like a dream.
Her smile slipped when she saw his face.
"Bad, sir. It took out the entire store, but was contained before spreading to the coffee shop next door," Easton's voice told him there was more.
"Spit it out, deputy."
"Sir, there's a body. We haven't been able to I.D. it yet," Easton said quickly. "How soon can you be here?"
"I'm in Portland. I can be back in an hour. Forty-five if I push it and use the sirens."
Conner thanked whatever presence had told him to take the police cruiser, and not his personal vehicle.
"We'll still be busy here. See you then," the deputy hung up.
Conner turned to look at Angel. She'd stepped towards him, and now put a hand on his arm.
Taking her hand in his he rubbed the back of her fingers against his cheek, not wanting to end their time together.
"What's happened, Conner?"
He thought it best to just say it all, get it all out.
"I'm sorry, Angel. There's been a fire at your bakery. A body has been found, but they don't know who it is yet."
"My bakery?" She put her free hand to her brow. "Oh, god, are you sure?"
He nodded.
"Bo! Oh my god, Bo! No! He was opening today. What time is it?" She saw the time at a little after nine. "No one else was coming in until eight, when the store opened. Conner, I have to call him. What if it's him? Oh my god, no, not Bo, please, not him!"
She was starting to panic, her eyes wheeling wildly, her breath hitching, so he pulled her to him in a tight hug, locking her
"Stop," he took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes, calming her.
He let her go, but told her to dress. "Call him from the car. We have to go. We can come back and get your Jeep later."
Nodding, she whipped the towel from around her and strode to her small bag, naked.
She pulled a summer dress out of the bag, a thinly strapped yellow number that looked so light he expected it to be see-through. She pulled a brush through her hair with one hand as she stuck her feet into white sneakers, after donning socks. He watched, momentarily frozen as she stepped into a pair of white cotton panties, his heart stuttering.
She shoved a few things into a small white shoulder bag with a long gold chain for a strap and then pulled a pale blue cardigan from her bag.
In less than two minutes she was heading for the door, roughly clipping her wet hair back.
All he'd had to do was put socks and shoes on in the same amount of time, and he hadn't finished yet.
He would have showed his appreciation for such efficiency if the mood called for it. All he could do though, was hurry.
She stood at the door, looked at him and reached for him.
He took her outstretched hand as he got to her side, securing the door behind him. They made their way quickly through the hotel to the car park, where he'd parked the police cruiser, her fingers gripping his.

*

The drive back to Boothbay was tense.
The moment they'd hit the streets once exiting the multi leveled car park, Conner had flicked the switch, and the sirens had come on.
Angel was furiously searching through her contact list for the number Bo had given her.
He'd finally gotten a cellphone, after years of saying he didn't need one, because people would always know how to reach him only when he wanted to be reached.
The number went straight to voicemail.
"Dammit! Answer the phone Bo!" Angel shouted after the third time she heard his voice in the recorded message.
She tried Shelby, at their house, but the line went unanswered.
Finally, realizing Sienna would have been called to the coffee shop, she called her friend's mother.
"Sienna!" Angel shouted the name in relief. "Thank god! What's happening? Is Bo okay?"
Conner was expertly weaving them through the downtown traffic in Portland. His hands tight around the steering wheel.
"Angel? Baby, where are you?" Sienna sounded far away. Angel could hear sounds of people shouting around Sienna, sirens, and some other loud noises. It painted a picture of pure chaos in Angel's minds eye.
It terrified her.
"We're on our way back. We should be there in about forty-five minutes," Angel turned to look at Conner. He nodded.
"Who's we?"
"I'm with Conner, Sienna," Angel said quickly. "Tell me! Is everyone okay?"
"Yes, everyone's okay. We don't know who it is." Sienna said breathlessly.
"Bo?" Angel said his name hesitantly. Hoping. Praying.
"He's okay, he got out when the oven exploded," Sienna sounded so tired. Angel's heart contracted in her chest.
"Oh, god, Sienna. Is Michelle there?"
"Yeah, hold on." Muffled sounds as the phone changed hands.
"Angie?"
"Shelley!" Angel burst into tears.
"Ah, Angel, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Michelle's voice echoed Angel's tears. "How far away are you?"
"Uhm," Angel lifted the hand she had put over her eyes, as she'd cried. "We're about ten minutes outside Bath."
Conner's right had left the steering wheel to close over her thigh, squeezing gently. It made her want to cry all over again.
"Okay, good. You coming straight here? To the shop?" Angel knew Michelle referred to Winter's Brew.
"Yeah, I need to see it."
"Okay, I'll see you then," Michelle hung up.
She put her cellphone back into her bag, then closed both her hands over his one on her thigh.
"Breathe, Angel," Conner said to her.
"I feel like my whole world is crashing down around me."
"It's just a place, Angel. We'll rebuild it," he said it with conviction.
"Someone died, Conner. A person died. Is that my fault? It can't be my fault," her breath hitched as she felt the panic rise in her chest.
"Breathe, Angel," He said it again, firmly. "This is not your fault. Say it for me."
"This isn't my fault?" she sniffled.
"Again." He punctuated his words with a leg shake.
"This isn't my fault."
"Exactly," He smiled over at her, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment. "This is not your fault."
She cracked a smile at him.
He patted her leg before he returned his hand to the steering wheel, needing both hands to navigate through the upcoming twists and turns.
Feeling the loss of the weight on her thigh, his comfort, his support, she felt empty.
A moment later he took her hand and put it on his own thigh, every now and then dropping his own hand to give it a quick squeeze.
She let the warmth of his leg seep into her cold hand and travel up her arm. Swiveling her neck, she looked at him.
He was focused on the road ahead. She let her gaze travel over his strong profile, and breathed deeply as she watched him, her head tilted back against the cushioned rest.
He kept her calm.
She didn't want to think about what faced her when they got home. Right now, she could just look at him, and breathe.
It was enough for now.