Angel Bait (Angel Assassins #1) Read Online Free PDF

building headache did the migraine mambo behind her temples.
    Cuts to the staff made sense in this economy, but Ionie chaffed at the idea of unemployment. She loved journalism and
The News
was a great first job for a college graduate. She’d worked her way from accepting obits over the phone to landing assignments for the Metro section. Her byline — sometimes — in print made her feel accomplished. Could Patrick really be ready to scrap her? She wiggled her fingers at her sides.
    Over my dead body
. She reached the city editor’s office, fuming. She was a good reporter. She’d worked too damn hard, and she loved writing, damn it. Plus, her credentials gave her access to places most people couldn’t bribe their way into. No way she’d give up.
    Ionie rapped twice on the frosted glass before she entered the dim room. She plastered what she hoped was a non-threatening smile on her lips and schooled her features the way JP taught her.
    Think gentle. Think feminine.
    This wasn’t a game of Texas Hold ’Em, but the stakes were high. She was ready to bluff her ass off.
    “You wanted to see me, Patrick?” Her voice sounded firm and unstressed to her. She could do this.
    Patrick McCollum nodded, gesturing her inside from his plush chair. “Hey, Ionie.”
    Her gaze swept over his stocky body. Patrick’s desk was difficult to make out in the low light. Piles of manila folders, assorted books, and discarded coffee containers covered the wood surface. The man lived for his job, but an air of loneliness pervaded the space. No family pictures decorated the shelves behind him. Only trophies, plaques, and certificates detailing a life spent pursuing the First Amendment.
    “We were talking about you.”
    We?
Movement in a dark corner drew her attention. She turned to greet Patrick’s guest. A hulking man stepped into view. She refused to believe her eyes.
    “Jesus Christ,” she said, her voice low enough she was sure only a dog could hear it.
    “Hardly.”
    Words, thoughts, and comprehension fled. Her mouth gaped open and her heart skipped several beats.
    Thick, brown-black hair flowed behind the stranger and disappeared behind generous shoulders. An expansive chest stretched the smoke-gray T-shirt he wore to its limits.
    She skimmed her way to his face with herculean effort.
Up, up, up.
He had to be almost seven-feet tall. Vibrant sterling eyes narrowed, pinning her with a predatory gaze. Her lungs seemed to stop working.
    “This is Jarrid of the Eternal Order,” Patrick said. His light tone broke the awkward silence.
    Ionie dropped her gaze to the black denim encasing Jarrid’s toned legs. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Eternal Order? You’re an angel?” She cringed at the multilayered awe in her voice.
    “Some parts of me are.”
    Ho-ly crap!
His rough voice sounded like boulders rolling over coarse sand. The deep timbre made her wonder if Jarrid spoke much. She interacted with non-humans in her daily life, but she’d
never
met an angel or nephilim. Jarrid was … extraordinary.
    On cue, her mind conjured up lists of questions she wanted to ask.
You’re staring, girl.
She remembered a fraction too late Others hated being ogled. Her eyes wavered. Jarrid’s stayed fixed on her. “What did you want to talk to me about, boss?”
    “A story.”
    A knot in her stomach tightened. “Which one?”
    Patrick’s shrewd look narrowed at his guest. “Jarrid’s approached me with an interesting offer.”
    Ionie glanced away from her editor. The nephilim was probably some pumped up messenger from Heaven who didn’t care one fig about being a news story. Angels had made it clear for years they didn’t mix in low circles. Low, of course, meaning anyone outside the Pearly Gates. At least from what her sources inside the Council had to say. Heaven kept to itself.
    She couldn’t help her curiosity. “What offer?”
    “Did you write this story?” Jarrid placed a crumpled Metro Section on the