Hidden Angel Read online

  Hidden Angel

  Anya Cleve feels deep down that something isn’t right about her. She's different, from the wing that covers the left side of her back to her job as a sports car restorer. The sight of her newest customer has her heart racing and makes her wish she was normal, but that’s never going to happen. What she doesn’t know is that her Papa has been keeping a secret from her all of her life.

  Duncan Hart never strays from the lusty angels of his realm—until he kisses Anya, that is. She’s a temptation and a mystery he can’t figure out at first. There is definitely something deliciously different about her.

  Just when he solves the enigma, she is stolen by a demon. Payback will be swift. Nobody takes what belongs to him.

  But getting her back is effortless compared to telling her the truth and confessing his love.

  Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy

  Length: 37,608 words

  HIDDEN ANGEL

  Dakota Dawn

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  HIDDEN ANGEL

  Copyright © 2011 by Dakota Dawn

  E-book ISBN: 1-61034-551-7

  First E-book Publication: July 2011

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Hidden Angel by Dakota Dawn from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Dakota Dawn’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Dawn’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  This story is dedicated to my best friend, and lover, my husband. It is also dedicated to my kids who have lived through many a ‘Get what you want.’ night at our house. Unfortunately, no one else learned to cook.

  I also want to thank all the people who bought this story. I hope you love the ride and will take it again and again!

  HIDDEN ANGEL

  DAKOTA DAWN

  Copyright © 2011

  Chapter One

  Hatred swirled in the air.

  Blacker than a moonless night was the color of the large angel-turned-demon’s eyes. He blinked, and they turned blood red as he looked at the infant in his hands. His eyes burned brighter as he started to chant in a low, almost growling voice. A minute into his chant he held his bundle-filled hands out over an open trash can. Black smoke poured out of it and surrounded the infant. His chanting grew louder, and his arms moved in six large circles to the right then six small circles to the left, coming to a halt directly out in front of him. He paused for a moment then moved his arms up and down six times. Heaven to Hell, ending downward, pointing the bundle to the netherworld. The black smoke made a whooshing sound as it rushed back into the trash can it had been called forth from.

  Stopping his chanting, he drew the small girl in close and looked for a long moment at her tiny face, memorizing every delicate line of her features. He frowned when she blinked, drawing attention to her dark chocolate eyes. His face hardened, and he thrust his arms out and dropped her into the trash can then slammed the lid shut. He blinked again, and his eyes changed back to the darkest of blacks. The early stages of evil madness could be seen lurking in their depths.

  He briefly glanced at the trash can. Her weak attempt at screaming didn’t faze him as he turned and walked a few feet away then closed his ebony eyes in concentration. Gold-tipped white feathered wings appeared, but their beauty was marred by long black streaks that looked as if something had run tar-covered claws across them. The tarnished wings flapped three times, and without a sound, he disappeared. The only evidence that he’d been there was the wailing infant coldly left behind to wither away.

  * * * *

  “Joey, take out the trash that’s in my office, please. I had to shred a lot of papers today. When you’re done, we’ll close up shop and head for home.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Tim Cleve smiled at how fast his four-year-old son rushed to do his chores so they could go home. It had been another long tiring day. His smile dropped for a moment at the thought of home. It was never the same after the death of his wife two years ago. Her precious smile was gone, and her scent no longer lingered in their bed. Sometimes he’d light one of her favorite candles just to remember what the house had smelled like when she’d been alive. To feel like all was well for just a little while.

  They both still missed her, but Tim knew he had to teach Joey life was for the living. You could remember a lost loved one, but you could never dwell on those memories to the point that you stopped living. You take what life gives you and turn it into something better. You put a silver lining around it no matter what it is.

  “Papa, Papa, Papa! Look what I got from the trash can. Can we keep it? Please, Please, Please. Can we keep it?” Joey’s voice was high and shrill in his excitement. That excitement brought the smile back to Tim’s face.

  Tim expected to see another kitten or a puppy, but what he saw instead caused his jaw to drop open and his vocal cords to quit working. Joey was standing there holding a tiny baby tightly clutched to his little chest.

  Tim’s heart dropped to his stomach, and he silently prayed, “Please don’t let that baby be dead!” With shaky hands, he took the baby from Joey. “Let me see what you’ve got there, son.” Tears filled his blue eyes when they locked with rich dark-chocolate eyes. The dark eyes blinked, and he sank to his knees in relief.

  Not know
ing his Papa’s distress, Joey was on him in a split second. “I took off the lid to the trash can, and there it was laying on top of the trash looking at me. Can we keep it, Papa? It don’t bite.” Joey held up his fingers and wiggled them in front of Tim’s face. “See, I still got all my fingers. It don’t bite. Can we keep it?”

  It was suddenly obvious to Tim that Joey hadn’t been around enough babies. His vocabulary was very adult, maybe too adult, but his knowledge of babies was zilch. They worked at his car restoration shop all day. He restored top-of-the-line sports cars. The majority of his customers’ children were already grown, so they never brought babies into the shop. And when needed, they went to the store late in the evening to get groceries or go out to eat, and by that time, babies were at home in bed. Where Joey probably should have been, but this was their life, and Tim wasn’t ashamed of it. Joey was a great kid. He was kind, and he worked hard for his age. Plus, he loved being at the shop with his papa.

  Joey leaned in for a closer look at his find. It was all bundled up in a blanket, and only the dark eyes were visible.

  “It’s a baby, Joey.” Tim moved the blanket away from the tiny face, and Joey squealed in excitement.

  “It’s so cute. Can we keep it? I don’t think it eats much. Do babies eat much?” Energy radiated off the boy.

  Looking down at the bundle in his hands, Tim noticed that the little baby had perfectly shaped tiny features. The dark eyes blinked, and the small mouth moved in a sucking motion. Adorable.

  Having his composure back, Tim stood and took the baby to the table. Once there, he laid his squirming bundle down gently then unwrapped her blanket. His gaze came across a pretty pink dress. “A girl, Joey. Looks like you rescued a little girl.” A lump formed in his throat. His wife had wanted to try for a little girl. She would have scooped up this little darling and loved her fiercely. Blinking back tears, Tim went back to the task at hand.

  Her tiny arms and legs stretched out as soon as the blanket had opened.

  No apparent broken bones, which was a good sign. Tim breathed a loud sigh of relief.

  A small giggle erupted from Joey. “She’s so little, Papa. Can we keep her? I think she likes us.”

  Tim eased her out of her little pink dress and soggy diaper. His worried eyes rushed over her, looking for any sign of injury. Strong, trembling hands lifted her off the blanket.

  Joey gasped. “What’s wrong with her back? Can we still keep her? I like her.”

  Hands that could torque hundreds of pounds gently turned the small, precious, wiggling body over. Tim’s lips flattened into a tight thin line. Someone had tattooed a very detailed wing on the left side of her back. It ran from her tiny shoulder to her little hip. He ran a finger over it to see if it was rough from just being done or if it was smooth, indicating it had been done at least two weeks ago. Her tattooed skin was smooth. It was not freshly done.

  His face hardened. Who could have done this to an infant and then thrown her into the trash as if she meant nothing? His blood started to boil. If he’d caught the bastard in the act of harming this child, he would have killed him and thrown him into the trash can.

  Joey had pulled a chair up next to the table and was standing on it. His excited voice drew Tim out of his rage. “Can we keep her? Turn her over so I can see her face again. She has the face of an angel. She smells like pee-pee, but I don’t mind. She’s cute.”

  Just then the little angel let out a loud, sharp cry that startled them both. Tim quickly turned her over and held her close, patting her back and rocking her back and forth. “Don’t cry, little one, you’re going to be fine now. Shhhh. Papa’s got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

  “Does that mean we can keep her?”

  Tim sighed and answered Joey while he redressed the baby minus the soggy, smelly diaper. “We are going to watch the news every night for a whole week, and if good people are looking for her, we have to give her back. No, don’t look so sad. Let me finish. If no one is looking for her, we will keep her. Chin up now. Let’s go get her some formula and some diapers before she pees on me.”

  Joey burst out laughing and hugged his papa’s leg. “I hope we get to keep her, even if she pees on you, Papa.”

  Heart aching, Tim kissed her smooth forehead and patted her back. A part of him didn’t want to know if anyone was looking for her. He looked down in time to see her slide her thumb into her mouth. Joey used to do that. Stomach twisting up in tight knots, Tim knew he would have a hard time letting her go.

  She stretched in his arms then snuggled closer to his heart. In no time flat she’d taken his and Joey’s hearts.

  Joey tugged at his pants leg. “What should we call her?”

  Tim thought for just a second. “Anya.”

  “Anya. It’s different, but I like it.” A smile crossed Joey’s face.

  “Your mom wanted a little girl named Anya. She’d be happy if we called her Anya.” Throat clogging up, Tim led Joey to the truck.

  “I miss Mama.” His little voice had turned sad.

  “I do, too.” Anya squirmed in Tim’s arms and whimpered, drawing both their attention. “I need you to hold her while I drive us to the store. We will get her a car seat while we are there.”

  Joey climbed into the truck, and Tim placed her in his arms with a warning about holding her head carefully, then seat belted them both in. He kissed Joey on the forehead then Anya on the cheek.

  “I could hold her all day, Papa. I hope we get to keep her. I like her.” Joey held her to his chest and patted her back.

  “Me, too, Joey. Me, too.” Tim looked at the children, and his heart ached with love. He hoped they got to keep little Anya. She fit perfectly into their small family.

  Chapter Two

  Twenty-Five Years Later

  Music pulsed through the room.

  If it weren’t for the loud beat pounding its way from the radio, Anya would probably be asleep right now. Sleep had eluded her last night. A strange feeling that something major was about to happen to her stopped her from resting at all. Maybe it was just her coming off the high of finishing their last car restoration. That was probably what it was. Damn, she was tired.

  She jumped when the phone rang, and she quickly picked it up. “Cleve Restorations.” All she heard was some garbled words. “One second, please.”

  Anya turned her attention to her brother. “Joey, turn the music down.” No response, so Anya held her hand over the phone’s mike and yelled, “Damn, Joey, turn the music down for a minute, will ya? I’m trying to talk business here.”

  Joey mouthed the word “sorry” then turned the rock music down.

  At his apologetic expression she felt bad for snapping at him. Catching his eye, she mouthed “I’m sorry.” He smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

  Anya apologized to the caller. “I’m sorry about that. What were you saying?… Yes, my partner and I can work on-site… What city do you live in?... Yes, we can be there tomorrow to inspect the cars… What is your address?” She grinned as she hung up the phone.

  Ripping the top page off the notepad she’d just written the address on, Anya smiled at Joey as she waved the paper back and forth. “Dance tonight. Road trip tomorrow.”

  Nodding and grinning, Joey turned the music back up.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Joey pulled their truck up to a mansion. “This is the right address, right?”

  Anya looked at the home, and a spark of energy zapped through her. What the hell? Shaking it off, she took out her sheet of paper and checked the address. “Yes, 1177, this is it. Let’s go see the little ladies we could be working on real soon.”

  “Slow down, sis. We need to go talk to the owner first. You can’t just go poking around in people’s garages without announcing yourself first. Why do I have to remind you of that fact every time?”

  “That only happened once, and the car was outside. Give it a rest.” Rolling her eyes, Anya got out of the truck and headed for the do
or. Joey quickly got in step beside her then rushed to beat her to the doorbell. If he got any crazier, she didn’t know what she’d do with him.

  He was sticking his tongue out at her just as the door opened. Wild, crazy, and fun—that was her brother, and she loved him dearly.

  Joey was quick to recover. “Whoa, that was fast. We’re from Cleve Restoration and Mechanics. We were called yesterday by a Mr. Duncan Hart to come over and look at four cars he wants restored.”

  The butler, she assumed, was about Joey’s height of six-feet tall with salt-and-pepper hair. He looked them over very closely with his small dark eyes then looked at their truck. He nodded with approval. “Very good. Master Duncan said you would be arriving today.”

  Stepping outside with them, he said, “I’ll show the cars to you then go get Master Duncan. My name is Alfred. If you have any questions, you can ask me. Follow me, please.”

  Joey smiled as they followed him. Catching Anya’s eye, he mouthed “Master.”

  She arched one brow and shrugged her shoulders, wondering about the man’s use of the word master herself. A shiver ran down her spine at the words Master Duncan. Something was up. She could feel it bone-deep.

  They were led to a large garage at the back of the house. Alfred opened the side door and followed them into the huge room. It was a clean and almost barren room with a cement floor. In the middle of the room, her gaze landed on four shabby, misused, but awesome cars. Her skin flushed in anger. They all looked like they had spent a lot of time outside. Only a fool would leave such fine machinery outside.