Read Nobody's Angel for Free Online

nearest implement—a pen—to his neck, the handyman had done the exact same thing. If she didn’t know better, she’d think this particular vein of insanity had been scripted by a singularly violent, if unimaginative mind.
    And that was the problem. She didn’t know better. She didn’t have a clue what was behind Dave’s attack of the crazies, or why she had been assaulted. Or, for that matter, what that vaporous thing was that had taken off into the night.
    But she’d bet The Guardian Angel knew exactly what it was.
    * * *
    He should have known she wouldn’t give up.
    Scowling, Zeke watched Kendall from the curtains of shadows he’d pulled around himself as she weaved her way through the dwindling crowds at Pier 39, the sun nothing more than a memory as night laid claim to his city once more. Why the woman didn’t bother to get her errands done during the day was beyond him, but apparently not even a near-strangling was enough to scare her. At this point, he doubted anything would.
    He watched her cast about the pier, looking like the poster child for the helpless and muggable, and he cursed under his breath. Where were her survival instincts? She was proving to be more of a pain than he’d ever imagined, taking up time and energy he couldn’t spare when there was a rogue geist with weird abilities running around. The last thing he wanted was to babysit a bull-headed journalist so bent on establishing herself as the Twenty-first-century’s version of Geraldo she was willing to turn a blind eye to the dangers lurking around her.
    Only she wasn’t blind. Not completely. That was the problem.
    The Wharf was tourist-friendly by day, but nighttime brought out the seedier dregs of society. Added to that were the unseen denizens—beings that fed off the electrical fields of the city’s lights and gorged themselves on the roiling flow of emotion that emanated from people who used the cover of darkness to hide their dangerous appetites.
    The night was for people like him. Not Kendall Glynn.
    As silent as the shadows surrounding him, Zeke kept pace with her, and he told himself he was simply being watchful as he drank in the long-legged gait that swayed the lush curve of her hips in an almost hypnotic rhythm. As the fog rolled in off the bay and the brine-kissed breeze ruffled her hair, he admired the muted fire of it as she tucked it behind her ear. Maybe she was here playing tourist, he thought, a low sigh escaping him when she gnawed on her full lower lip as she searched the boardwalk area. She hadn’t been in San Francisco all that long, after all...
    His meandering thoughts jerked to a halt when she zeroed in on a familiar popcorn vendor, and he sighed again.
    She really was such a pain in the ass.
    “…questions about the murder-suicide that took place here.” Kendall’s voice, much improved since the last time he’d heard it, carried to him on the chill night air.
    “Do you now?” The man behind the popcorn cart—which now had plastic taped over the hole that had been punched through the glass—shook back shoulder-length dreads. “I’m thinking how nice it would be if a pretty lady bought something while we talk about it.”
    She flashed a smile at the vendor that was a real wowser. For some reason it irked Zeke no end.
    “I think I can handle that. Have any Junior Mints?”
    “What sort of man would I be if I didn’t have Junior Mints for a pretty lady?”
    Zeke’s irritation grew when Kendall laughed outright, a husky, fluttery sound designed to bring a strong man to his knees. He doubted she’d ever call the vendor an ass the way she had with him. And he’d saved her life, for crying out loud. Where was the gratitude?
    Oh wait, that’s right. In his frustration over the geist getting away, he’d thrown her gratitude back in her face.
    Crap. He was an ass.
    “Keep the change.” She handed over a large bill and tucked the candy into her bag. “So. The other night?”
    “I saw the whole