Linda Howard - Death Angel

New York City

YOU DID AN EXCELLENT JOB, RAFAEL SALINAS PURRED to the assassin, who stood on the other side of the room, near the door. Either the man didnt like getting too close to other human beings, or he didnt trust Salinas and was giving himself an avenue of escape if the meeting turned sour-in which case he was smart. People who were wary of Salinas tended to live longer than those who trusted him. Drea Rousseau, curled close to Salinas s side, didnt care what the assassins reasoning was, so long as it kept him at a distance.

He gave her the creeps, the way he never seemed to blink. She had seen him once before, and at that meeting hed made it obvious he disliked her presence. Hed leveled his flat, unblinking gaze on her for so long that shed begun wondering if he made it a practice to eliminate people who could identify him-other than the people who paid him, of course, and maybe even them after the money was safely in his hand, or his account, or however assassins collected their fees. She had no idea what his name was, didnt want to know, because while truth was supposed to set you free, in this case she thought it might possibly be deadly. She thought of him as Rafaels assassin, but in fact he wasnt one of Rafaels regular crew; he was a free agent, hired by whoever could afford him. At least twice now, that she knew of, Rafael had met the price.

To keep from looking at him and maybe finding that unnerving stare locked on her again, she unhappily examined the magenta polish on her toenails. She had put it on just that morning, thinking it would look interesting against the creamy white of the silk lounge outfit she was currently wearing, but the purple under-tones were too garish. She should have gone with a shell pink, something delicate and almost transparent to compliment the outfit instead of contrasting with it. Well, live and learn.

When the assassin didnt reply, didnt rush to assure Rafael that he was honored to work for him the way others had, Rafaels fingers drummed impatiently on his thigh. It was a nervous habit he had when he wasnt comfortable, a telling little gesture, at least as far as Drea was concerned. Shed intensely studied his every mood, his every habit. He wasnt exactly afraid, but he, too, was being wary, which meant there were two smart men in the room.

Id like to offer you a bonus, Rafael said. An extra hundred thousand. How does that sound?

Drea didnt look up, though she quickly processed the offer and what it meant. She went to a lot of trouble to never show any interest in Rafaels business dealings, and when hed occasionally asked her some very casual but leading questions shed pretended she didnt understand what he was getting at. As a result, Rafael wasnt as careful around her as he might otherwise have been. As far as he was concerned, she had no interest in anything that didnt directly affect her, and in a way that was true, just not in the way Rafael thought. He assumed she didnt care who the assassin had killed for him, that she cared only about what she was wearing, how her hair looked, about making Rafael look good by being as sexy and glamorous as she could make herself.

She was definitely interested in that last part; making Rafael look good in the eyes of others always put him in an expansive mood, a generous mood. Drea studied the platinum and diamond anklet that circled her right ankle, enjoying the way the dangling diamond glittered in the sunlight, the way the platinum glowed against her tanned skin. The anklet had been one of Rafaels gifts when hed been very happy about something. She hoped his pleasure with the assassins success put him in an equally generous mood; she wouldnt mind a matching bracelet-not that she ever hinted. She was always very careful not to ask Rafael for anything, and to ooh and aah over everything he gave her even if it was butt-ugly, because even butt-ugly crap could be sold.

She had no illusions about the permanency of her position in Rafaels life. Right now she was at the top of her game, mature enough to be womanly, young enough that she didnt have to worry about gray hair or wrinkles. But in another year or two, who knew?

Eventually Rafael would tire of her, and when he did she wanted to have built up a nice little nest egg for herself, mostly in the form of jewelry. Drea Rousseau knew what it was to be poor, and she intended never to be poor again. Shed severed all ties with the girl shed been growing up, white-trash Andie Butts, the target of malicious jokes because of her name as much as anything else, and made herself over into Andrea (pronounced anDRAYuh, which sounded French to her) Rousseau (to go with the fancier pronunciation).

Her, said the assassin. I want her.

Her interest caught-who was her?-Drea looked upand the bottom dropped out of her stomach. The assassin was staring at her with the same cold, unblinking gaze she remembered. Shock slammed into her like a tidal wave; she was the her he was talking about. There were no other women in the room, no one else he could possibly mean. Icy fingers of sheer panic laced around her spine, but then common sense reasserted itself and she relaxed. Thank God Rafael was a possessive man; he would never-

Ask for something else, Rafael said lazily, looping his arm around her shoulders and snuggling her close to his side. I couldnt give away my good-luck piece. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Drea beamed up at him, almost limp with relief, though she tried not to reveal that for a moment shed been scared almost senseless.

I dont want to keep her, the assassin said dismissively, without looking away from Dreas face. I just want to fuck her. One time.

Reassured by Rafaels immediate rejection of the request, confident once more, Drea laughed. She had a sweet laugh, as harmonious as the chiming of bells. Rafael had once told her she reminded him of an angel, with her long, curly blond hair, big blue eyes, and her bell-like laugh. She used the laugh as deliberately as if it were a weapon, reminding Rafael without words that she was indeed his angel, his good luck.

At the sound, the assassins entire body seemed to tense, his attention so tightly focused on her she could almost feel the touch of it on her skin. Until then, if shed thought about it much, Drea would have said he was already alert, but now he was somehow more so, as if all his senses were heightened, his focus so intensified she felt the burn of it on her skin and her laughter choked off as abruptly as if his hand had closed around her throat.

I dont share, Rafael said, an irritated note underlying the ease of his tone. The top man never shared his woman; if he did, then he lost an edge, an important one, in the authority he had over his men. Surely the assassin knew that. But they were alone in the penthouse apartment, with no witnesses to what Rafael did or didnt do, so maybe that was why hed thought he could have what he wanted.

Again the assassin said nothing, merely watching, and though he didnt move there was abruptly something lethal stewing in the atmosphere between them. Curled against him as she was, Drea felt Rafaels almost imperceptible twitch, as if he, too, was aware of the change.

Come now, Rafael said, his tone cajoling, but Drea knew him well; she caught the uneasiness he was trying so hard to disguise, and because that wasnt something she was accustomed to seeing in him she almost darted an alarmed glance at him, before catching herself and instead inspecting a fingernail as if shed spotted a chip in the polish. Thats a lot of money to throw away for something so brief. Sex is cheap; you can buy a lot of it with a hundred thousand dollars.