BOOK 2: DEATH & DESIRE
I never expected Touched by an Angel to stray into bad touch territory.
"Tall, white robes, white wings. Was there a celestial light? Did anyone see a halo?" The questions I asked in pursuit of the truth.
"It's an Angel of Death. It kills people." Husani Tannous, a late-twenty-something Egyptian, adjusted his baseball cap to hide his receding hairline. "It doesn't get a halo."
Ironclad logic from a man who'd paired his masculinity issues with the semi-automatic at his feet. Like fine wine with cheese. Or gasoline with a match.
This living room was as much a battlefield as any muddy trench. There was even a dead body upstairs, and if the animosity down here got out of hand, more casualties to come. The fluttering in my stomach did double duty as nerves and a coiled excitement.
"I'm not trying to be facetious," I said, steepling my fingers and leaning back in a fancily embroidered chair. "But I do need the facts."