Warrior's Angel (The Lost Angels Book 4) by Heather Killough-Walden Read Free Book Online Page B

an eye of such vivid light green, it appeared to glow.
    Once, years ago, a National Geographic photographer had snapped a picture of an Afghan girl with green eyes. The girl’s name had been Sharbat Gula. And the photograph would soon become world renowned for its hypnotic effect.
    Rhiannon gazed at her own light green eye that was struck through with undertones of light, light blue. She and Sharbat had the same eyes.
    So Rhiannon hid them away behind contacts, all too aware of the fact that they would be an easy and unmistakable target to anyone attempting to describe her to the police or authorities. Some things were better toned down.
    But looking at her gaze now reminded her of her dream, and the man within it, whose cornflower blue eyes had pierced her soul. It had felt like she was a book before him that he’d unlocked, opened up, and read. It was both liberating, and unwelcome.
    Rhiannon sighed, shook her head, and quickly rinsed the contact before slipping it back into her eye. Then she made her way to the living room, retrieved her phone, and dialed her employer’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
    “You told me you would call me tonight, Miss Dante.”
    “So I did,” Rhiannon replied. “My bad.”
    “You aren’t dead, then.”
    “Doesn’t seem to be the case.”
    “Then you can take the next twenty-four hours off for shopping and recuperation. The gala for the benefactor I told you about will be held in Chicago. And you’re already there. How convenient, don’t you think?”
    Rhiannon’s brows raised. “Indeed.” She thought of New York and it’s plethora of crime and the fact that he’d sent her to Chicago this time around. “You had this planned all along, didn’t you?”
    “Indeed,” he returned, tit for tat. “ Unfortunately, the dresses you currently possess will not at all suffice for this event. I will send the information you need in the morning, and a car for you tomorrow night at eight. Sweet dreams.”
    Rhiannon hung up… and wondered whether she really wanted to dream again that night at all.

Chapter Four
    Rhiannon took a very deep breath when her car rolled to a stop before the red carpet. She looked to the right to see that the carpet led through the massive, open double doors of an enormous, renovated cathedral. Guards with communication devices in their ears were placed all around the perimeter of the building, and white gloved men in suits waited at the entryway to welcome guests.
    The lights, drum beat of music, and hint of movement from the darkness beyond hinted at the scope of the revelry that awaited her. She would wager there were close to a hundred guests already inside. These would be associates from Mr. Verdigri’s past, people she would know nothing about and who would know nothing about her. Not that it mattered.
    Everyone would be wearing a mask.
    Mr. Verdigri never spared any expense when it came to fundraising. From what she could see from her seat, the entryway to the grand gala had been decorated in a gothic steampunk manner, replete with massive wall clocks and torn tapestries that billowed in a night breeze.
    There was a buzzing at Rhiannon’s wrist that she felt against her pulse. She’d had her hands over her small chain-link purse, which carried only cash, her phone, lipstick, and the key to her hotel room. She opened it now and took out her phone to swipe her finger across the answer bar.
    “I am told you’ve just arrived,” came a familiar voice when she raised it to her ear. It was her enigmatic employer.
    “I have.”
    “Good. I’ll meet you at the door. Wait for me. I want to walk you in personally.”
    They hung up, and not for the first time since she’d begun working for Mr. Verdigri, she smiled to herself somewhat proudly. The man never failed to make her feel as if she were important. She wouldn’t trade that for anything.
    Thirty seconds later, she could see Mr. V exit the building to make his way toward her. She only knew it