Read Angel/Hiss (Bayou Heat Box Set Book 7) for Free Online Page B

his dark hair was pulled into a short tail at his nape and his slender form attired in a smoke-gray Gucci suit.
    At a glance, most people assumed he was a wealthy businessman who had been born to a family of privilege and graduated from Oxford or Yale. Few would ever suspect that he’d been born in the gutters of London. Or that he now was in charge of a vast criminal underworld.
    Climbing the steps to the porch, Stanton nodded toward the guard who was seated next to the window overlooking the front yard and stepped into the living room.
    An empty living room.
    He grimaced. No big surprise. The woman he was seeking rarely watched TV or lounged on the deeply cushioned couches he’d personally picked out for her comfort. She also ignored the kitchen he’d had remodeled in the hope she would enjoy cooking.
    Instead Chelsea spent the bulk of her time in the library, hiding from the world in the same way she used to hide behind her science.
    That’s how they met, in fact.
    She was a brilliant genetic researcher who’d worked at Haymore Center until she’d developed cold feet and tried to quit. Unfortunately for her, Stanton’s master didn’t accept resignations. Once you were included in the inner circle it was a lifetime commitment.
    The only way out was death.
    Stanton had been ordered to oversee her termination, but for the first time since his master had rescued him from the streets, Stanton had deliberately disobeyed a direct command. There was no way in hell he was hurting Chelsea.
    Instead he’d whisked her to this house to keep her hidden from those who would destroy her just to gain an advantage with the master.
    Not that she’d appreciated his efforts, he wryly acknowledged, climbing the staircase to the third floor that’d been converted to a massive library. He entered the room that was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three walls, with one wall dominated by a dormer window that overlooked the garden in the back.
    The ceiling was lofted with open beams that gave the illusion of space, along with light ivory carpeting on the wooden planks.
    Moving forward, he at last spotted Chelsea curled in a leather wingback chair near the window.
    The early morning sunlight danced over the crimson flames in her long red hair and emphasized the pale ivory of her skin. At his entrance she lifted her head from the book that was opened on her lap, her pale green eyes watching his approach with an unreadable expression.
    At the same time, her hair slid away from her face, revealing the scarred flesh that ran from mid-cheek down the side of her throat. The terrible burn that had happened when she was in a fire as a teenager was a jarring contrast to the perfection of her beauty, but unlike Chelsea, Stanton had never thought of it as ugly. To him it was a badge of courage for what she’d suffered.
    “I thought you left New Orleans with the Pantera,” she said, her voice cold.
    Stanton flinched. Once her voice had been laced with a warmth and tenderness that only occurred between lovers.
    “I did.” His own voice held a British accent he’d honed until it sounded as if he’d attended a posh boarding school.
    “Ah…” A mocking resignation settled around her. “Now that you have Hiss safely hidden away, I assume you came back to tidy up loose ends?”
    Pain lanced through him, his gaze greedily skimming down her slender body that was attired in casual slacks and a cream cardigan. Once he would have crossed the room and scooped her up in his arms. She would have giggled as he carried her to the leather couch in the corner and kissed her into hot, willing submission.
    “In a manner of speaking,” he muttered. In truth, he didn’t have one damned reason to be in New Orleans. The businesses attached to his name had all been torched and the prisoners moved to a new location.
    All but one.
    This one…
    Perhaps sensing his unease, Chelsea put aside the book, lifting her chin as he stepped forward.
    “Will you at