Willow has a gift. She has no idea where this power comes from. But the assassin, Alex, does. Gorgeous, mysterious Alex knows more about Willow than she does about herself. But when Alex finds himself falling in love with his sworn enemy, he discov- ers that nothing is as it seems, least of all good and evil.
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He was sure this was the right place. Then he counted the flowerpots: seventeen. The door opened at last and a small, round woman wearing a business suit came out. Fussily delving in her handbag for keys, she finally found them and locked the door behind her, then teetered to her car on plump feet that looked pinched in their high-heeled shoes. Seb held back a smile. Yes, this all seemed very like her. It was. He crossed the road, strolling through the early-morning silence.
A tall wooden fence bordered the house on one side; Seb jumped to grasp the top of it, vaulting over easily. A faded deckchair stood folded near the sliding patio door. The window with the broken lock that had been worrying the woman was up on the second floor. It took only seconds for Seb to scale the trellis and slide it open.
He dropped silently into her bedroom — pale green, lots of ruffles. Leaving the scented bedroom, Seb started searching, his steps echoing on the tiled floors. Gently, he pushed open doors, peered into rooms. His face creased into a frown. Then on the ground floor, he found it: a computer sitting on a desk in the corner. Seb swung himself into the chair and hit the on button. He entered a few words into the search engine, typing slowly. A list of options came up; he found the one he was looking for and selected it.
His heart beat faster at the thought, though he was only all too aware by now how unlikely it was. Currently he was in Presora, not far from Hermosillo, with its white beaches and throngs of tourists. Nothing at all. But he had to keep trying. It was all he could do. He drifted over to it, squatting on his haunches as he gazed hungrily. He touched the cover of a thick historical novel. It would keep him going for a week. But no. With a sigh, Seb straightened up. As he started for the stairs he saw a hallway beside the kitchen, with a shower room visible.
He hesitated, then went and looked inside. The white-tiled room was almost bare: just a hand towel and a bar of dusty-looking soap, as if the shower in here was rarely used.
His clothes were cleaner than he was; it had been easier to find a laundromat in this town than a bed at the hostel. He entered the small room, locking the door behind him. There was a tube of shower gel in his knapsack; he dug it out, then stripped off and took a long shower, relishing both the hot water and the privacy.
Even after so many years, it still felt as if he could never take either for granted. His body was firm and toned; as he bathed, scars he barely noticed any more gleamed from his wet skin — some white with age, others newer, puckering redly. He hated not feeling clean almost more than anything; it felt wonderful to wash away the grime of the last few days. Afterwards, Seb dried off as best he could with the hand towel and glanced in the mirror, scraping his wet hair back.
It curled when he wore it too short, irritating him, and so he kept it slightly long, shoved away from his face. A loose curl or two always fell over his forehead anyway, just to torment him. His jeans and T-shirt clung to him when he got dressed again, but the heat of the day would soon finish drying him off. In the green and frilly bedroom, Seb paused at the window, glancing around him. Angel Fire by L.
She has no idea where she gets this power from… But Alex does. In spite of himself, Alex finds he is falling in love with his sworn enemy. Reader Reviews Angel This book could not be any more astonishing. From the first page I was completly overwhelmed, obsessed and jealous of L. A Weatherly for writing one of the best books I have ever read.
Angel L.a. Weatherly