Morning has arrived, so it’s time to begin part two of my side mission.

As daylight trickles through the curtains, Angie’s head rests on my chest, with a spread of curls draping me. By the time I finished having my fun with Richie, it was past two in the morning, yet Angie was still game to come over. Now, I stare at the ceiling, listening to her soft breathing while twirling a lock of her hair around my index finger. 

Peaceful moments like these make me forget what Angie is like, and if she wasn’t so nuts, I could see us being a couple, but we both know what this is. It’s a transaction. She needs my help, and in return, I use her to release tension.

“What time is it?” she murmurs.

“Almost nine.”

“I have to go,” she yawns and pushes herself into an upright position. 

“What’s the rush? I can make breakfast.”

“Huh?” Angie scrunches her face and shakes her head. “Why on earth would we sit around having breakfast!”

“Why not. We could get to know each other better.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

Like a little flea, Angie hops off the bed and gathers her clothes. As usual, she pulls them on while exiting the bedroom, so I follow her, and by the time we get to the living room, she’s fully dressed. 

“I can make coffee to go,” I offer, but she snorts and rakes her curls into a high ponytail.

“You’re acting weird.”

“Just being nice.”

“No. Weird,” she says, then opens the front door. “I’ll be in touch if I hear from Reina.”

With her out of the apartment, I scramble to pull on a black hoodie, grey sweat pants, and sneakers, then exit like a bowling ball speeding down the stairwell. Angie is already down the street, and her curls flutter behind her as she disappears around the corner. I might not be James Bond, but I’ve become pretty good at following people without them noticing. 

After a few blocks, she crosses onto 16th Street and heads down the escalator leading to the subway platform. Thankfully it’s a weekday, so morning commuters are helping me stay hidden as I pretend to read on my phone while sneaking glances at Angie. When the BART car slows to a stop, Angie doesn’t wait for passengers to get off. Instead, she shoves her way inside and claims an empty seat meant for the elderly, disabled, or pregnant women. However, she doesn’t seem to care as she sweeps aside her curls to plug in earbuds and mess around on her phone. 

Typical.

One of the things I find most fascinating about public transit is how everyone’s face is buried in their little pocket gadgets. They’re so focused on what is happening on the tiny screens that they forget real life is occurring around them. Danger enjoys lurking, and it awaits the perfect moment to sink its teeth into distracted targets.

But I’m not a psycho. 

I’m just spying on Angie. There’s a difference.

After thirty minutes, we reach the end of the line, and it’s a connection station, which means passengers for this ride either have to catch another BART for SFO airport or make their way to the CalTrains and busses. Angie hops onto a train heading southbound, so I hop on too, and it takes another thirty minutes until we’re in a bustling city on the peninsula. I have no clue where she’s going, but it must be important if she’s willing to travel this far. 

From here, Angie walks to her next destination and still hasn’t noticed I’m following her. Unless she does and is leading me on a wild goose hunt? If so, she’s a lot smarter than I give her credit.

Traffic whips passed us on the absurdly busy street, where banks and fast food restaurants line the sidewalks in a suburbia vomit of strip malls. I remain a block behind Angie, and she seems to be taking her sweet time by making little stops in front of boutiques to stare into their windows. Whenever she does it, I have to hide in a doorway before she spots me. 

A flower shop grabs her complete attention as she sniffs the bundles of roses and tulips in the exterior display. Then, she disappears inside, so I wait patiently while clocking the time, and after a few minutes, she emerges with a bouquet of tumeric-yellow roses. A huge, satisfied grin spreads across her face as her head falls back to feel the sun, and her shoulders relax.

Usually, Angie is in a bitchy mood, so to see her so content reveals there is someone human inside that brick wall known as her flesh. She continues walking, and after five long blocks, she walks up to a brown brick building. The exterior doesn’t give away much, but there’s a driveway in front of the entrance for passenger drop-off and a sign that says Redwood Community Homecare and Health. A quick Google search says the facility is home to the elderly and differently-abled. 

I snort because there is no way in hell Angie has a tender heart for community service. So why is she here? Then it hits me. She must have a loved one who lives here. Angie is secretive about her private life, so I’m guessing that whoever lives here must be someone she doesn’t want me to know about. But who? 

A blast of air conditioning hits me as soon as I step through the entrance, and a shiver rolls to my dick because of the drastic temperature change. Adjusting my hoodie, I stroll up to the front desk as if I belong here, and the facility is much nicer on the inside than the outside. A glossy, sand-colored marble floor expands the lobby and ends at a beige carpet where a few elderly people rock in leather lounge chairs while watching the flatscreen mounted above a brick fireplace.  A receptionist greets me with veneers as bright as lightning, and they look too big for his face as he stands behind a large front desk made of dark walnut. Behind him is a gigantic painting of a redwood forest edging a beach cliff behind him. 

Everything screams tranquility as nature sounds play on the surround sound while a rock sculpture fountain off to the side provides a water trickle.

“How may I help you, sir?”

“I’m… I’m visiting a friend.”

“Wonderful.” He slides a sign-in sheet across the counter. “Just add your name, who you’re visiting today, and we’ll summon them.” 

Fuck. I should have anticipated this, but there is no turning back now, so I write Josh Spencer under Angie’s name and notice that she penciled in Ana Mendoza for the person she’s visiting. Gliding the pen across the page, I write that I’m visiting her too and slide the sign-in sheet back to veneers-guy.

“Oh,” he grins. “Are you here with Angelina?”

“Yeah, I told her I’d meet her here.”

“Her boyfriend?” His eyes brighten.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Oh, so you’re the gentleman she’s been telling me about!” He appraises me with his eyes as he gives me a once over, then smiles.“Good for her. She is such a sweetheart. She deserves happiness.”

“She sure does,” I slap on a smile because the Angie I know is more like arsenic than sweet. 

“Take this visitor's pass, and head down the hallway. To the right is the resident’s wing for the differently abled, where Ana lives, and when you get to the end of the corridor, there’s an exit for the garden on your left. That’s where Angie likes to take her sister when she visits.”

“Thanks. You’ve been a big help,” I say and slip the lanyard for the visitor pass around my neck. 

Following the signs, I search for the garden, and it’s easy to find at the end of the hallway, but I take a breath before smashing the push-bar on the door. Going out there might get me caught, but maybe that’s ok? Maybe if Angie sees me, it’ll give me the upper hand in our relationship. The more I know about her, the less she can dangle personal shit over my head.

“Fuck it. Here we go!”

Warmth swaddles me when I enter the garden, and I immediately understand why Angie likes visiting with her sister out here. It’s closed off with a domed glass ceiling, and a sprinkling system releases mist with the tenderest kiss of moisture on the plants. The garden is so dense with trees and flowers, it’s like a maze as I make my way around, but through the greenery, I spot Angie’s ponytail of curls. Next to her is a young woman with a similar cascade of ringlets down her back. 

Other people are in the garden, so I must look like a creeper as I spy on Angie and Ana through the lemon trees, yet I can’t take my eyes off them. Here, in this setting, Angie is delicate as she holds her sister’s hand while they walk, and every few feet, she toys with Ana’s hair. Then, she plucks a pink flower from a rose bush and sweeps aside Ana’s curls to place it behind her ear. That’s when I see Ana’s face. She’s giggling at the gesture, a smile illuminating her eyes, and her cheeks grow warm in color. She’s absolutely precious, but now I understand why she lives here. The Down Syndrome is visible in her facial features with her flatter nose and smaller eyes, yet even then, I see Angie in her. 

And now I feel like an asshole for following the little vixen. She must have her reasons for never mentioning a sister, and now that I know, I can’t use this knowledge against her.

But… I can make her think that I will.

Smoothing down my hoodie, I follow the path and round the fruit trees until I’m completely visible to them. They’re feeding goldfish in a pond that flows under a mini bridge, and Angie must be saying something funny because Ana tosses her head back in a laugh. With hands in my pockets, I straighten my shoulders and laser beam a death stare at Angie, but she isn’t the one who notices me. Her sister does, and her brows crook curiously.

“Why is that man staring?” she asks Angie, and when the little psycho killer looks over her shoulder, her smile drops. “Do you know him?”

“Uh… Ana, stay here,” Angie squeezes her sister’s hand, then she marches up to me with a glare that could slit my throat.

There are still a few feet between us, so I pull my hands out of my pockets and widen my stance—ready for Angie to take a swing. Except, she stops within inches of me, her chest bumping my abdomen as she looks up and growls. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Funny. I was wondering the same.”

“You need to leave!” she barks, then glances around and lowers her voice. “How fucking dare you follow me.” 

“My, my, how the tables have turned. It’s not so fun having your secrets unfurled, is it?”

“My sister is none of your damn business!” She pokes my chest with such ferocity I think it might leave a bruise. “I swear to God, I will cut your dick off while you sleep.”

“Angie?” Ana says behind her, her curious gaze flashing to me. “Is this your boyfriend?”

“No, sweetheart.” Angie spins to face her. “This man is lost and looking for someone.”

“Oh…” The bit of excitement in Ana’s eyes fades. “When will I get to meet your boyfriend?”

“Ah, come on, Angie.” I weave my arm around her waist. “Don’t lie to your sister. Tell her about us.” 

“Fuck off!” Angie elbows my side and rips herself free. 

“Wait, I’m confused,” Ana says, her innocent eyes bouncing from me to her sister. “Is he, or is he not your boyfriend?”

“Yes, I am her boyfriend.” I stick out my hand before Angie can object. “I’m Miguel.”

“I’m Ana. Angie’s little sister,” she says proudly. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Ana, can you give us a couple of minutes?” Angie asks and smiles at her sister assuringly as she takes my elbow. “I have something private I need to say to Miguel.”

“Oh, ok. I’ll be over by the fish.”

“Te quiero, Anabanana.” Angie blows a kiss, and Ana holds up her fingers, signing that she loves her back.

The moment Ana walks away, Angie’s smile drops, and she faces me, her hand latching onto my dick. 

“Listen to me, asshole!” She squeezes. “Stay the fuck away from my sister. I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing—”

“No game,” I wheeze and feel my knees buckling from her death grip.

“Then why are you here!?”

“Let go, or I’ll call everything off.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” She breathes in my face. “Not with Richie wanting you dead.”

“I’ve already taken care of him.” I grin through the pain, and her hand drops from my balls like a snake has bitten her.

“Lies.”

“You underestimate me, Sugar-Tits.”

“Why the HELL would you put us in jeopardy!” She jabs my chest. “Did you not hear Reina? We cannot touch Richie without the Sisters’ blessing.” 

“Because I’m not waiting for Richie to make the first move. Besides, I’d rather ask those old broads for forgiveness rather than permission.”

“You idiot!” She smacks my chest repeatedly. “Idiot. Idiot.” 

“Hey!” I grab her wrists. “Your sister is staring. Play nice.”

Closing her eyes, Angie stops struggling against me and blows out a breath before glancing over her shoulder and smiling at Ana. Her sister waves with a massive grin on her face, and it’s such a child-like gesture that it warms me. There’s an innocent quality to Ana, something that makes her feel younger, but looking closely, she has to be in her mid-twenties. However, as young as she might seem, there isn’t anything about her that makes me think she belongs here—not in a place for elderly patients. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone else her age, which is odd.

“Angie, why does Ana live here?”

“My ex-husband put her here to punish me,” she says through her teeth, fists clenched at her sides as she pivots to look at me. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me today.”

“That’s fair, but I will get the whole truth soon.”

“If you’re lucky,” Angie scoffs. 

“I think I am.” I slide my gaze over her from head to toe and give a sly smile. “I’m getting under your skin.”

“Never in a thousand years,” Angie scoffs again.

“Oh, most definitely, considering you’ve been telling people I’m your boyfriend.”

“Don’t flatter yoursel—”

I don’t let Angie finish the sentence as I clamp my mouth onto hers and force apart her lips with my tongue. She fights it at first—her balled fists pushing my chest, but I wrap my arms around her, boxing her in, and her fingers fan across my chest as her resolve crumbles. Right as her mouth parts, and she accepts my tongue with strokes of her own, I break away, and step back. 

“I think I just proved my point.” I cock a brow and grin devilishly. “I’ll see you later.

Even though Angie calls after me as I walk away, I keep going. My mission is complete.

However, I have a new one: track down Angie’s ex-husband.