Falcon's Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

breeze, like an untamed living thing. The way he had come to her rescue here in this ancient section of Naples, it was easy to imagine him as a handsome Roman soldier. All that was missing was the gleaming chest armor and sword. She could not have fantasized it better, but unfortunately, it had been real.
    What would have happened if Tony had not scared the silent man off?
    Her fertile imagination created a connection between this attack and the prank someone had played on her just a week ago in London. Her rational mind told her there could not be any connection between the two events. However, the thought did not give her much comfort. There was no doubt she had been attacked last night in the ancient Roman marketplace.
    But why? She didn’t know anyone here in Italy besides her aunt and uncle. She had never been here before, so it had to be a random attack.
    No. Maybe it was the determined look on her attacker’s face, or the name he had called her. Margaux.
    He had not actually called her that, at least not in words. But she had heard him as if he had spoken the name. He had invaded her mind. Or she had invaded his.
    Whatever had happened, the name Margaux had swirled in the air. Every time she thought about it, her head ached.
    The man had not seemed such a stranger to her after the name Margaux popped into her mind. In that moment, rage filled her. She had wanted to kill him.
    It had been too dark to see the man’s face, and he hadn’t said a word. She’d wanted to hear his voice—not words in her head—so that she could identify him. All he had done was make a strange gurgling sound and put a hand to his stomach as if she had punched him. After that, he had run off.
    I should report it to the polizia. If she told her parents they would both be here within hours, and her much coveted privacy during this musical sojourn would be no more.
    The practical muse inside her questioned if it was not a random attack and if the silent man would return for the violin. The thoughts dampened her spirit a bit, leaving another independent, rebellious muse peeved and feeling abandoned by courage’s sudden retreat.
    No, this has to be random.
    Naples was like any other crowded city in the world where people were anonymous, and so was crime. A man fallen on hard times did not care who he robbed, only cared about what he gained from it. This man had achieved nothing.
    The silent man did not know her. He could not know her. He would move on to the next victim minus a weird gold earring in his ear.
    She would talk to Tony about reporting the incident when she saw him at the Conservatory. Her rescuer seemed to know his way around the city very well.
    She sighed and drew the sheet around her. If she had a type, she knew what it would be.
    When she closed her eyes, his gaze hovered at her lips. She felt his warm breath inches away from hers as she had when he’d backed her against the church wall last night. When his hand had touched her cheek, she’d felt the stroke in her belly.
    Lean, strong, and six feet two. Tony was her type. He made her feel beautiful.
    * * * *
    There was a knock on the apartment door.
    “Angelina?”
    Angelina jumped up from the old, overstuffed couch, spilling tea from her cup.
    “Ouch!” Sucking her finger, she turned down the volume of the Italian talk radio station. “Who is it?”
    “It’s Tony.”
    “Just a minute.” She sprinted to the bathroom and brushed out her hair. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door. “Hi,”
    “Ciao, Bella, did you sleep well?”
    He had come to check on her. Her smile started in her toes. She shifted on her feet. “I slept very well. In fact, I just got up an hour ago, which is late for me.”
    “Good. You needed sleep after last night.”
    “Please, come in.” She watched the play of muscles under his white T-shirt when he walked past her into the living room. She smoothed her hair down once more. I wish I had used the flat iron on it this morning .
    Tony