Page 28 of Angels & Whiskey

Shesat near the window,the sun glowing behind her and casting a halo as if she were an angel. I did a double take, making sure what I saw was real—or who for that matter. But as I stared, I knew she was the same woman who smelled like Alyssa.

Todayherbrown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she had on workout clothes. When I’d first bumped into her, she was wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair long; it had brushed against my hands as I steadied her.

There was something about her that I was drawn to. It wasn’t because she brought back memories of Alyssa—this was different. I couldn’t look away from her as I felt my heart start to beat faster and nervousness coursed through my body.

“What are you getting?” Jackson asked, bringing me out of my daze.

“What? Oh …” I stepped forward and ordered my vanilla latte, then stepped aside, letting Jackson pay for it.

“I’m buying you coffee?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. “You owe me.”

“Fine. All right,” he huffed with a chuckle.

As we waited for our coffee, I stared at the brunette angel. I wanted to go over and talk to her. Ask her for her name—smell her—but something was off. She didn’t have the same smile on her face that I’d seen the day before, but more of a solemn vibe and for some odd reason, it bothered me.

I stepped closer, pretending to play on my phone as we waited for the barista to make the coffee. I was hopingshewould look up at me. I wanted to see her smile again. I wanted to be the cause of her smile.

The closer I got, the more obvious I felt I was being. In my line of work, I could talk to anyone. I had to. I had to make women feel comfortable. So I didn’t know why I was nervous.

“We’re drinking here,” I said, reaching for my coffee that the barista set on the bar after calling our names.

“We don’t have time to drink our coffee here,” Jackson whined.

“Yeah, we do.” The brunette angel looked up, our fixed stares locking, but she didn’t smile.

“No, we don’t.”

I sat at a table nearher, hoping that I could at least get her name. “Yeah—We do,” I gritted through my teeth.

The brunette angel broke our stare and looked down at her salad. I looked her over, loving what I was seeing in her tight outfit. But that’s when I saw her arms. My stomach dropped. She had bruises on each as if they were from fingers wrapped around her biceps.

“Oh …” Jackson said, finally understanding what the fuck was going on. “We do have time.”

Jackson started to talk to her as I stared, sipping my coffee. I caught bits and pieces as my mind wandered, trying to figure out how I was going to find out about her bruises. I was a stranger—she was a stranger, but I wanted to ask her as my protective side came out. I wanted to know who would hurt someone as beautiful as her. No man is to ever hit a woman, no matter how much they nagged, bitched or moaned. And if I ever saw a man hit a woman with my own two eyes, I’d kill him.

“So,” Jackson whispered, leaning into me and bringing my gaze to him, “this the trigger?”

I looked back at her. “Yeah.”

I watched as they talked about Club 24. I wanted to interject, but I let Jackson take over, finding out all the details while I thought about how I was going to find out about her bruises. Maybe it wouldn’t be today. Maybe it wouldn’t be tomorrow. But if I saw more, I’d make sure she knew who I was and the same with the fucking asshole that was doing it to her.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?” she asked. The girl who was with her the day before appeared at her side.

“I wanted to check on you.” The friend looked over at us. “Am I interrupting something?”

The brunette angel smiled. “No. Just having coffee and lunch.”

We said goodbye … well, Jackson said goodbye. I was still too pissed at the sight of her bruises to speak.

“Why didn’t you talk to her, you fucking creepy motherfucker?” he asked, buckling his seatbelt into the passenger seat.

I cranked the engine. “Did you notice the bruises?”

“What bruises?”

“The ones on her arms.”