Despite his irritation at losing his privacy, he graced her with a smile. He liked Rachel. She was a sweet girl, willing and compliant, and very skilled with her mouth. There was no point taking out his frustration on her. The Toscani crime family had friends everywhere. No doubt a couple of bills and a word in the right ear in the morning would restore the status quo with a minimum of fuss. In the meantime, he’d have company in the form of a beautiful woman who had, curiously, been shot in the chest.
After Rachel left, he canted his head and allowed his gaze to drift over his new companion. She had turned to face him in her sleep and the thin blanket dipped into her narrow waist and up over the curve of her hip. Her features were delicate, with high cheekbones and a slightly turned-up nose. She was the opposite of everything that attracted him to a woman: blonde instead of brunette, thin instead of curvy, frail instead of robust. Gina had been a big, loud, gregarious woman with an infectious laugh and a truckload of friends. She was the life of the party, talking non-stop even when the guests were gone.
“You’re staring.”
Her warm, rich voice slid through him like a smooth Canadian whiskey that finished the palate with a whisper of heat.
“I was just wondering, bella.” He lifted his gaze to soft blue eyes framed in thick golden lashes. “Who would shoot an angel?”