Angel Page 6

  Fabric tore.

  Time for me to step in.

  I started to rise, but caught a frontal view of Quan. His teeth were subtly pointed, but his fingertips were rounded instead of clawed—and he wore a subtle smirk.

  Quan’s expression was nothing like the darkly intense face he’d showed when he lunged at me. That little smile was the same one his brother wore when he was getting into mischief.

  Although it never made my breath catch when it was Panther. On Quan…

  I couldn’t help wondering where else he wore that expression.

  Not relevant.

  I had to focus. Should I let Quan carry on?

  Probably not. It was a little unprofessional to have my bodyguard manhandle the students, but part of me wanted to haul Mitchell up by his collar and shake him. I might as well enjoy Quan letting loose for me.

  Quan glanced my way, quirking an eyebrow. Was he asking me for permission?

  I gave a slight nod. Let him do what he wants. I couldn’t deal with any more prying into the heroes’ personal lives or attempts to get recruited veiled as a not-so-subtle questions.

  Flashing a broad and slightly animalistic smile, Quan dragged Mitchell across the carpet. He tossed, actually tossed, the boy into the hallway, and then took up a post at the door, arms folded, daring anyone to misbehave.

  I covered my mouth with my hand to hide the smile I couldn’t stop. It shouldn’t be funny. I should be worried I’d just allowed Quan to make a scene. His behavior reflected poorly on both the M10 and me.

  Mitchell’s eyes widening as his collar tears, balancing on his toes as Quan hauls him to his feet.

  I coughed to keep from laughing. For the first time in a very long time, I couldn’t care about the repercussions. Quan had only done exactly what I wanted to do.

  “Um.” A girl took one of the mics. “This is for the St. Louis Seven. What kinds of cases do you usually work on locally?”

  Attention slowly shifted from Quan to the SL7’s rep, who was glad to get a word in.

  I relaxed into my chair, trying to ignore Quan’s smug posture at the back of the room. He was enjoying himself far too much.

  Although maybe I was too.

  As the session continued the questions balanced out and I was allowed out of the center of attention. Maybe the students were experiencing a jolt of reality. The M10 only needed one member. At most, I’d be willing to add two to the roster if the candidates were excellent.

  Rough odds.

  Finally, the panel ended to thunderous applause and I motioned for Quan to join me at the front of the room. He sauntered over in a three-foot bubble of space that no one dared enter.

  Quan lifted his sunglasses, revealing unapologetic orange-brown eyes. “Am I in trouble, boss?”

  “You’d know if you were in trouble.” I bit back my smile while we were still surrounded by an audience. “But no harm done.”

  “I have to keep things interesting around here.” Quan leaned against the table, both unchastised and unworried. “What’s the next show?”

  “A private dinner with the university authorities. Are you sure you’re up for it?” Though neither of us had a choice. I had to keep him at my side, regardless of what was on the agenda.

  “I’m always up for a meal. But I’d rather have a private dinner with you.” He licked his full lips, drawing an unexpected shiver from me.

  His bare—

  I whirled before the memory could take hold. “Let’s find our ride.”

  Leila Wendland waited for us at the exit. “Angelina.” She gave a warm smile and firm handshake. “I was so pleased you could make it this year. How’s my favorite former student?”

  “Dean Wendland.” I returned the smile. “Same old same old in New York. How are things in the program?”

  “Leila, please. Technically you outrank me now.”

  Ha. “You’re the dean of the most prestigious Heroics department in the world. I highly doubt that.”

  “And you’re the manager of the crew that every one of my students wants to join. I warn you now, I have a few candidates to recommend.”

  “Of course. It would be a help.” I dreaded digging through the applications, and her opinion was exactly the one I needed to help wade through them all.

  “Let’s head to the restaurant.” She glanced at Quan but didn’t ask questions—she’d already be aware that I’d added a bodyguard to my party. “We’ll talk shop with Mary. She’s meeting us there.”

  “Of course.” I was conscious of Quan’s presence behind us as we walked to the car. His energy was palpable, but it wasn’t him I needed to focus on. “Can I ask why I got bumped from the faculty dinner?”

  “I’ll let the president broach that topic, but it’s nothing to worry over,” Dean Wendland said.

  We’d reached the car, and the driver held the door open. As Leila slid in, Quan’s hot breath swept across the back of my neck.

  I managed not to jump, but my skin prickled like I’d been struck by lightning. Why was he so close?

  Instead of entering the car, I turned to check what Quan was up to. He didn’t even have the decency to look innocent. “Are you planning to make trouble?”

  “Not planning.” Quan slipped his sunglasses into his pocket. “But I keep my options open.”

  “Let’s just get through dinner in one piece, okay?”

  “Which piece?” Quan’s heat was like a wall against my back.

  Quan’s weight pressing me down, his orange eyes like daggers on my skin—

  The man was worse than Steel.

  But I didn’t hate it. Not at all, even though I was treading dangerous ground.

  I hopped in the car, retreating to chat with the dean. Quan folded in after me.

  The moment Quan crossed a line with me, I’d have to shut him down, but either he hadn’t crossed one yet or my lines weren’t where I thought they were.

  Was this the kind of man I was attracted to?

  Was I lusting after such a catty attitude?

  He adjusted his tie as he settled into the seat across from me, shooting a dark glare that sped my pulse. And there were my answers.

  Yes and yes.

  I took a deep breath. I’d avoided men entirely and now wasn’t the time to change my operational guidelines. I knew almost nothing about Quan except for how he looked naked, and I couldn’t get involved unless the man was a 100% keeper.

  Not even Tank truly met the requirements. I doubted that Quan would measure up, and with all the sexual energy and mischief he threw off, he didn’t seem like the kind who cared about getting to know a girl.

  The bottom line was that any entanglement would end up a disaster. My life was full when it came to complication; the last thing I needed was another panther shifter in the game.

  Keep it professional.

  I shifted my attention back to Dean Wendland, happy to engage in small talk, but just walking down the thought path with Quan had opened up a box of possibilities I didn’t want to think about. I forced myself to focus. Being businesslike was my best talent, and I wasn’t letting a bit of lust shake me.

  I had a job to do.

  Arriving at the restaurant didn’t do anything to ease my tension. The maître d’ ushered us into the private dining room where President Donovan waited. With Rich Card.

  “Sorry for the change in your schedule.” President Donovan shook my hand. “Thanks for accommodating a chat.”

  “Of course.” Although I’d be happier after I figured out what this was about.

  “Angel.” Rich offered his hand, wearing a bit of a smirk. “Didn’t think you’d be seeing me again soon, did you?”

  “Rich.” I returned the handshake, slightly puzzled. “I didn’t realize you were joining us.” Private meetings did tend to be private, but at least his c
ompany would take some attention off me.

  “I can’t let the Manhattan Ten steal all the glory, can I?”

  I couldn’t really take that as a dig. Despite my efforts to deflect questions, I’d absolutely commandeered the info panel.

  “Sit, sit.” President Donovan smoothed her slacks as she took her chair, and I ended up sitting next to Rich. Quan chose not to take the seat at the head of the table—instead, he positioned himself next to the doorway like a proper bodyguard.

  Probably so he can freak out the wait staff. But let him do what he wants. I just hoped that skipping the meal wouldn’t make him cranky.

  Ignoring Quan as long as the others were, I turned to the conversation. The president chatted about enrollment, and Dean Wendland chipped in some statistics on the accomplishments of our new generations of heroes. By the time we’d placed our orders, they were getting to the point.

  “Obviously, Heroics is our prestige department, but we’re always looking to strengthen industry ties,” President Donovan said.

  Bingo.

  Dean Wendland swilled her wineglass, her peach nail polish vibrant against her dark skin, “Frankly, we’re having difficulty placing graduates. Crew positions are limited, and with enrollments increasing each year, we need to funnel more talent to other areas.”

  “Where they’re sorely needed,” the president agreed.

  I nodded. “That seems straightforward enough.” Nurturing young heroes was a priority for all of us, and helping them find practical career prospects was critical. Maybe I’d only realized how critical after the panel session.

  Rich poured me a glass of Chardonnay from the tableside bottle. “To make a sports analogy, it’s like the guys on the third string at a Division III football school think they have realistic chances of playing in the NFL.”

  “An epidemic of unrealistic optimism,” the president said. “And we’re starting to field backlash for the low alumni employment rates.”

  “I’d be happy to take on some additional interns. We can always use a few more capable hands around the office.” I took a sip of wine, letting the problem mull.

  “That would be an excellent start,” Dean Wendland said, “but we’re hoping to impose on you a bit more.”

  As expected. But given the cause, I’d help if I could. “What do you have in mind?”

  Rich adjusted his glasses as he leaned into the conversation. “We’ve been piloting a few new programs at the Pack, given that we’re the most prominent local crew. Anything from regular job shadows to getting prospective students face time with our more reliable members.”

  Steel with co-eds? No way. Ruin and Thunder would be fantastic at making a good impression, and Jet and Nil could participate—maybe even Panther and Ivory if they promised not to spar with the students. “It sounds promising, but scheduling is definitely a concern.” Hence why I was in town rather than Tank & Co.

  “Of course,” the dean said, “and that’s why job shadows are such an exciting prospect.”

  “We’ve upped the ante on internships.” Rich shifted aside as servers stepped between us with the appetizer course. “Getting time in the field has really affected the seniors who’ve participated—they’re developing a much more realistic view of hero work, and for the most part, turning their attention to areas where they’d be a better fit.”

  In the field? “You’re letting students work on active cases?”

  Rich nodded. “Of course.”

  My gears spun. If the Pack was letting students into their facilities and giving them access to sensitive information, it could explain the contact the FBI had traced.

  But it couldn’t be that simple. The Pack would have to do thorough background checks, and they’d find out if a prospective intern had contacts to anti-hero organizations.

  “I can discuss this with Tank, but I doubt that’s feasible for the Ten.” As in, I know it’s not feasible. With all the confidential information involved in the average case, the legal ramifications were staggering. Plus, putting untrained college kids in the field seemed like an excellent way to get them hurt. “As I said, I’m happy to take on more interns, but I really think keeping them on the business side is the logical move until they’re ready.”

  The president speared a piece of shrimp ceviche. “We were all hoping that your attendance meant the Manhattan Ten would be taking a more active interest in on-campus activities. Given that most of your roster are alumni, we’d like to host them on campus a bit more often. Run some speaking programs, maybe a guest lecture here or there.”

  I was starting to feel the blame. “It sounds great, but I can’t commit without talking to the crew and getting some more detailed information.”

  I turned my attention to Rich. Even though I was still a firm “no” on job shadowing, I had to get my foot into the door of his offices. I could fake ambivalence for the sake of the investigation. “Maybe we can meet privately to discuss some of the initiatives you’ve undertaken at the Pack? You’re hosting the cocktail at your building tomorrow evening, if I recall.”

  “You recall correctly.” Rich gave a half smile, sweeping the longest pieces of his sandy blond hair behind his earlobes. “Let’s plan to slip away for a few minutes and I’ll show you some of the info. Other than Haze, my full roster will be there, so I’ll take any excuse for a break.”

  “I know the feeling.” Full roster events made me want to tear my hair out, and the Pack’s crew made my heroes look like saints. Even Pixie. I loved her to death, but last I’d seen her on the news, she’d hand-compacted the Porsche of a venture capitalist who idiotically referred to her as a “cute piece of ass.” I fully supported her retaliation, but I was glad I didn’t have to deal with the fallout like Rich did.

  As the president and dean debated the merits of the hero ROTC program, Rich leaned closer. “I hope you’ll actually consider it. I know the Ten get their pick of heroes, but shaping the young ones is the smart long-term move for us in the community.” He smiled, flashing those blue eyes, and I wondered what my hormones were doing.

  I had zero response to the nice, responsible, clean-cut guy who was possibly the only person who understood the challenges of my job and life. But the wild panther man? The one who’d arrived as a thorn in my toe?

  Of course he was the one stuck in my head.

  “I’ll walk you through some of the programs.” As Rich adjusted his body, he twisted, resting a hand on the back of my chair. “You’ll see the—”

  Rich’s arm jerked, and Quan was there, stepping between us with his six plus feet of angry muscle.

  “Don’t touch her.” The voice was laced with open threat—practically a growl.

  And there was the line. “What’re you doing, Quan?”

  He responded with an actual growl.

  Time to have a chat I’d been hoping to avoid. “Excuse us for a moment.” I grabbed Quan’s elbow and dragged him from the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Quan

  I could’ve resisted Angel’s tug, but I wanted space between her and that oily bastard, Rich. Something about him that I couldn’t pinpoint lifted my hackles, and he reeked of deception.

  Although it would be easy enough to claw it out of him…

  Angel jabbed me in the chest with a sharp finger, her eyes and cheeks hot with indignation. “What was that about?”

  “He smells like a liar.”

  Angel’s hands balled into fists. Someone doesn’t like that answer. “Even if I believe you, that’s not how to behave. You can’t assault people, Quan.”

  “Assault?” That wasn’t a candle to assault, although if I was already being accused…

  “We’re not done.” She grabbed my arm when I would’ve reentered the room to tell the guy how I really felt. “I blame myself for humoring you, but you can’t do that again.”

  “Aren�
�t I your bodyguard?”

  Angel’s eyes hardened. “My pretend bodyguard.”

  “Well, I’m playing the part, and I don’t like the guy.” Maybe lashing out was over the top, but my nose was never wrong, and keeping Rich away from Angel was instinctive, especially if I was supposed to care for her like Balam wanted me to. He’d be pissed if I let her be harmed, and I was starting to respect the woman.

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t like being teased—”

  “I wasn’t—” I started, but she cut me off.

  “Let me make this clear. I don’t need a bodyguard or a caretaker or anyone else to manage my relationships. Maintaining good terms with Rich is a priority right now, and what you just did isn’t helping my investigation.”

  Investigation? I could help with that. “What are you—?”

  Angel lifted a finger in front of her lips. “Not here. Now can you behave, or do we have to go back to the hotel?”

  A growl rose in my throat. We were back to square one now—treating me like a goddamned toddler. This time I wasn’t playing nice. “Hotel.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Angel exhaled, just in case I was wondering whether I was a pain in her ass. “Stay here. I’ll go make our excuses.”

  She slipped back into the dining room, and I leaned against the wall. I expected some disparaging shit about how she was babysitting, but all she did was apologize, saying she’d just gotten a phone call and we had to slip away.

  Did anyone believe that?

  Whatever.

  I didn’t mind screwing her over, especially when I was right. Now I just needed some proof to back up my instinct on Rich.

  Angel would see—my nose was never wrong.

  Angel

  By the time we made it back to the hotel, I was fried. I couldn’t say Quan was sulking, but he sat in silence, a mountain of aggressive energy that set me on edge. I needed a long bath, a glass of wine and about twelve hours of sleep.

  Right. You’ll be lucky for two out of three.