No Angel Read Online Helena Newbury

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
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I took a deep breath and then strode out into the hallway and over to the DoC team. “Excuse me?” I said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

7

GABRIEL

I was doing push-ups, counting them out in sets of twenty. It made the bruises on my ribs and back ache, but it gave me something to dump the rage into.

A guard had told me what had happened. Five more years. Five. More. Years.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but this was a low trick, even for a piece of shit like the warden. I’d done the right thing, for once, and my reward was another half-decade in this hellhole.

But I knew that if I had the chance to go back, I’d do it all again. I’d saved Olivia and that was worth doing the time for. I thought of her as I heaved against the ground, sweat dripping from my torso. I’d heard about how she’d protected the nurse. She was brave as hell, maybe braver than she knew. Even in the middle of all the chaos, she’d looked goddamn beautiful, that dark hair half out of its bun, those soft pink lips parted. And that feeling that had come over me when I’d seen someone about to hurt her…it was frightening how powerful it had been. It killed me that they’d dragged me away before I’d had the chance to kiss her.

Footsteps outside. Then a metal scrape and click as someone unlocked my cell. I got to my feet, my bruises making me wince.

The door opened. A guard was there but I barely registered him because standing next to him was—

Olivia wasn’t in her white coat, for once. She was in a gray skirt that hugged those luscious hips and a dark green blouse. It was fitted and the thin cotton hugged the contours of those gorgeous breasts. She looked fantastic. But why was she in street clothes, and why was she holding a box? Had they got her cleaning up after the riot?

“We’ve only got a few minutes,” she said softly. “I’m meant to be gone already.”

Gone? I frowned, then took a closer look at the box. There was a mug in it, and a picture of someone. Desk stuff. “Olivia,” I said, my voice tight with worry, “what did you do?”

She swallowed and looked at the floor. When she looked at me again, her eyes were shining with tears. “They know Packard did it. The warden’s being investigated. Your sentence isn’t being extended. And you’re being released from solitary.” She blinked and sniffed. “Take care of that wound, okay? Stop by the infirmary in a week, Alicia can check it.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. I reached for her, but the guard looked at me warningly. “No, you can’t—I’m not worth this.”

“Yes you are,” she said firmly. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

We stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. There was so much I wanted to say and I could see her trying to find the words, too. This cannot be how we say goodbye. I wanted to grab her, pull her to me and kiss her but the guard was right there, watching me.

She took a tiny, half-step forward, as if she was thinking about grabbing me. But then she stepped back, almost as if to remove the temptation. “Do me one favor,” she said.

My voice was choked. “Anything,”

“Do something good with your life, when you get out.”

I sighed and shook my head. There she went again, thinking I was something other than a thief. “I thought I told you: I’m no hero,” I muttered.

She bit her lip in a way that made my heart break. “I thought I told you, you are.”

Then she turned, blinking back tears, and walked out of the room. And the reality of it sunk in. I was still in prison—only for seven more years, thanks to her, not twelve. But now it was going to be seven years of missing her, knowing I’d never see her again.

8

OLIVIA

For two days, I let myself wallow in it. I moped in bed, ate a full pint of caramel ice cream and cried until I didn’t have any more tears. Everything I’d worked for was gone…forever. I’d never do what I loved again.

And I’d lost him.

I tried to tell myself that it couldn’t have turned into anything, that he always would have been off-limits. Maybe that was true. But I knew I’d never meet a man quite like him, again.

On the third day, I forced myself to roll out of bed and start making phone calls. I needed a job.

I found a few positions with medical insurance companies. They wanted someone to evaluate claims, with the focus on turning down as many as possible on technicalities. I tried to imagine being that person, and couldn’t. There were a few companies looking for someone with a medical degree to make their dubious diet products sound official. I couldn’t picture doing that, either. If I couldn’t practice medicine, I at least wanted to help people.



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