She dreamt of fire that night. Of loud booms and rushing wind. Flying away from where she'd stood into the arms of a man—a man with an infernal smirk and eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul. Shadows loomed behind him; fear wrapped her. And on the dream went, until there was nothing but screaming and terror.

Angela jolted awake, her skin washed with sweat. Her heart raced in her chest, her breathing far too shallow for comfort. As dawning sunlight whispered through the slits of her curtains, Angela struggled to bring herself under control. She couldn't tell if that dream had been a nightmare or not. She remembered the explosion as clear as day, remembered how it had reduced her to a terrified, crying mess. But she also remembered those arms that had held her from safety.

It was hard believing that she was in danger when she was in those arms.

The feeling was familiar too, something Angela didn't notice until right then. She ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a shuddering breath as she recalled last year's kidnapping and the man who had saved her. It was the first time she'd ever met Roger and back then, all she'd allowed herself to focus on was her annoyance with his flirtatious nature. She hadn't shown him the true gratitude she'd felt.

Her hand falling to her side, Angela lifted her gaze to her door. Is he standing right outside again?

She was getting out of bed without thinking. She padded quickly across the room, her hand reaching out to the knob. Her heart beat faster with her eagerness, an urgent smile appearing on her face. Her hand closed around the doorknob.

The cold metal under her skin shocked her back into reality and Angela jerked away.

What the hell am I doing? So what if he might be outside? That has nothing to do with me!

She took two large steps back, horrified at herself. She'd nearly flung the door open in her enthusiasm. What if he truly had been standing on the other side? She would never hear the end of it. Even if she'd tried to explain that the lingering effects of the dream made her feel more grateful towards him than usual, she knew he wouldn't' believe a word.

In truth, it was hard for her to believe either.

"Focus, Angela," she mumbled to herself. Determined to find a distraction, she marched over to her bathroom. "You need a hot shower. That's the only thing might wake you up."

Today was an important day—the day her father would be announcing that he was running for President. He'd scheduled a press conference at noon which meant Angela had more than enough time before she needed to get ready, but she didn't care about that. Thinking about her father, about the responsibilities that would be placed on her as his daughter, about all the things she needed to take care of to help him find his way into the Oval Office, was the distraction she needed.

But still, her thoughts kept coming back around to one man—the man her father had told to guard her.

If this were foolish love story, she might have thought it was fate. But she was trying to steer far away from such line of thinking.

What is wrong with me today? Angela quickly shed her clothing, her blond hair tickling the base of her back. Why do I feel so...odd?

It was the explosion yesterday. It had to be. Clearly, she was feeling vulnerable and human. Clearly, she was latching on to the man who had saved her, which was a perfectly reasonable—although annoying—thing to happen.

Yes, that has to be it. She nodded to herself in confirmation as she stepped into the shower and let the hot water rain down on her. She went through the motions without thinking, her mind drifting to the wound she'd cleaned last night.

At the very least, Angela could admit that she hoped he was fine. He would be of no use if he let that wound hinder him. Even though she still didn't know his intention here and what he wanted with her father, she knew that he would at least try to protect them.

That's right. I can't forget who he is. A liar and infiltrator and I need to find out the reason he is here.

With determination setting into her bones, Angela continued her shower until, twenty minutes later, she was heading back into her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her and her hair wrapped in another.

Not stopping to ask herself why, Angela quickly got dressed in a pair of tights and a loose shirt she could wear around the house. She let her hair down before twisting it into a bun at the nape of her neck. When it was time to get ready for the press conference, she would take care of it. For now, she wanted to have breakfast.

Her steps were hurried as she made her way to the door, her heart in her throat. She held her breath before she opened it and then let out a low breath when she saw that the hallway was empty.

The disappointment she felt was far too stark for her liking.

"Are you looking for someone?"

Her heart jumped at the sound of Roger's voice. He appeared from around the corner, leaning casually against the wall. He lifted a brow in question.

"What the hell are you doing standing right there?" she snapped instantly, annoyed with herself for jumping.

"I wasn't aware there was a rule against it." His tone was nonchalant, his eyes still curious. He ran his gaze down the length of her without care. "Now this is a sight to see. The always perfect Angela Staton with messy, wet hair and normal clothes?"

As if on cue, she rolled her eyes. "It's my house. I can wear whatever I want."

"No one is saying you can't, sweetheart," he smirked. Angela quickly looked away, starting down the hallway. He fell in step behind her with ease. "I'm only taken aback at how good you look when you're all dolled up and when you're not."

"Save it, Roger. I don't want to hear any of that so early in the morning."

"My bad. I thought you were looking for me, that's all. And here I was hoping you would ask about my wound."

She kept her gaze trained dead ahead. "Since you're already talking about it," she said with a huff. "You might as well go ahead and tell me if it's fine."

Roger chuckled. "There's no need to worry. You did well cleaning it. I hardly feel a thing."

"I wasn't worried," she said instantly, then regretted it. She sounded defensive when she had no reason to be.

And Roger's deep laughter wasn't making things any better. "And how about you?" he asked. "Are you okay? The explosion yesterday really shook you."

"I'm fine," she pushed out.

"If you tell your father that you don't feel safe leaving, I'm sure he'll understand."

"I said, I'm fine."

"Look, I'm only trying to make sure you don't overexert yourself. It is a lot to handle and considering the fact that you didn't sleep that well last night—"

Angela whirled to face him, forcing him to come to a stop. She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know I didn't sleep well last night?"

Roger's easy grin appeared in an instant. Angela nearly took a step back. It was hard, she realized, standing so close to him when he smiled at her like that. With that very slight cleft in his chin and those brown eyes...

"I think the entire mansion hear you screaming," he said, breaking into her thoughts.

Angela gritted her teeth. She turned and continued down the hallway, hoping to outrun him and her veering thoughts. "You are a joke."

"And yet I cannot make you laugh. Alas."

A sharp retort flew to her tongue in response, but Angela didn't get the chance to voice it when someone turned the corner. Her mother. Her loud groans could be heard from the distance as she came to a stop in the middle of the hallway and put her hand to her temple.

Angela stopped and watched her, feeling familiar breeds of contempt rise within her. One look at her mother and she could tell that she was hungover. She watched as Brenda ran her hand down her face and forced her eyes open—then spotted Angela.

"Oh, Angie," she exclaimed before wincing. She held out a feeble hand, waving Angela over. "Come here, darling."

Angela stared at her mother for a few seconds, tampering the wave of angry words that came rushing to her mind. She'd always wanted to say them to her, to tell her mother just how much she hated her. But she wouldn't let Brenda see how much Angela was affected by her.

And it was certainly not a sight she wanted Roger to see.

She continued along her path, looking away from Brenda. She turned down the hallway that lead to the dining room when she was about four feet away from her mother, but Brenda was annoyingly persistent, even when she was hungover. She rushed up behind Angela.

"I heard what happened, sweetie," she gushed. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Are you only just hearing about it?" Angela asked, unable to help herself.

"Well, no not exactly but when I heard of it, I also learned that you were fine. I knew your father would take care of you. He has all that money at his disposal after all."

"Ah, yes." Keeping her anger at bay was fast becoming difficult.

"Oh, God, but when I heard!" Brenda went on. She hissed at her eclaim, holign her hand to her head. "I was too drunk to come over to you, Angie, but you're fine so that's great."

Angela came to a stop, her hand tightening into fists. She turned to face her bother, opening her mouth, but before she could say what was on her mind, a large body swept in to stand before her. Roger's hands took both her shoulders and twirled her back around.

"You asked me to keep you on a strict time regimen, Miss Staton," he said stiffly. She blinked. "You only have forty minutes left to have breakfast before it is time to begin getting ready for the press conference."

"Oh, the press conference!" Brenda gasped. "Oh, I totally forgot about that. I need to sober up, quick!"

She didn't say a word of goodbye as she hurried off as quickly as she could move, considering how much pain she was clearly in. Once she was gone, Roger's persona slipped away and his grinning face was back. "How was that?" he asked. "Good, wasn't it?"

Angela was still very aware of the fact that his hands were on her shoulders. She brushed them away, turning around before he could see how red she was becoming. "You aren't even trying to pretend this isn't all a façade anymore, I see," she mumbled, making her way into the dining room.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he mumbled back, mirth stark in his voice. He entered behind her, stopping at the door with his hands clasped behind him.

And again, Jason Vanhorne was back.

Angela tried not to look at him as she took her seat, Helman already present to serve her breakfast. If she did, she was afraid of how she might react to the sight of him—and what that might mean for her.

***

Forty minutes was not inaccurate. Within that tie, Angela ate in silence, her father too busy and her mother too sick. And with Helman standing by the table, Roger didn't say a word to her. And it took all she had not to keep looking at him.

And before she was finished eating, he got a call and slipped out of the room. Angela didn't see him again until, three hours later, she was heading out of the mansion to the cars that would take her to the press conference. He was standing by the door, his jaw hard, a pair of dark sunglasses shielding his eyes. She stared at him, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking nor could she get any idea of what he had been up to. Something akin to wariness rose in her.

It was why she was silence for the entire car ride. It was a small limousine, with Stephen and Brenda icily ignoring each other sitting with Angela and Roger up next to the driver. She could see the back of his head and just a glimpse of his jaw. She still couldn't figure out what might be going on.

He seems more serious than usual. Is something wrong?

Angela didn't dare to let that thought fester for too long. If she did, she would only reveal how nervous she was to be out in public again. What if the person who had tried to kill her show himself again? What if this time, he hurts someone dear to her?

Anxiety bled through her at the thought and, in that moment, Angela didn't care about what Roger was thinking. She only hoped he would be fast enough to save her again if the need arose.

As the limo pulled up to the building, Angela shoved the thought aside. She let herself fall back into the person she was once one—the beautiful queen who had the power to look down her nose at anyone who stood in her way. Though it might do her father some good to seem more approachable, she needed to be this person again for her own sanity. To make sure that she had not been broken by all that was going on.

Roger opened the door on one side while the driver opened the other. Angela, despite her conviction, could not resist the urge to look up at him as she exited. She wished she could see his eyes, to at least know if all was well.

She hated that she felt the need to rely on him like this—but Angela felt safer with him close.

Her legs trembled as she stepped away from him and walked behind her father. The sound of camera shutters was deaf to her ears. The questions being barked at her father disappearing too. As they made their way inside, Angela was only aware of the fact that Roger was walking a short distance behind her. She wished she could reach out and touch him, just to make sure. She let that single vulnerable thought slip through before she dismissed the notion entirely.

The press conference room was small, with a few chairs on the stage for Stephen, his wife and his daughter. Facing the stage were numerous chairs which were instantly filled with reporters. Their questions had died down but they were poised their laptops, or recorders, or cameras. Angela slid to her seat next to her mother, knowing she should look pleasant but unable to force it with the trepidation scratching the back of her throat.

She scanned the crowd. Is he here? The man who tried to kill me?

No one stood out to her, but that scared her even more. In her limited experience with assassins and spies, the ones who stood out were not the ones that she should be looking for. It was the ones who could blend in far too easily. People like Roger, who could assume another role and fool everyone around them.

Unable to help herself, she lifted her gaze to him again. He was standing at the edge of the stage, far enough from them to keep him out of the spotlight. His face was directed ahead. Even though it was clear she was staring, he ignored her.

Damn you. Unreasonable anger sparked within her at the sight. She faced the reporters again, listening to her father as he began to speak.

"First, I would like to thank you all for attending," Stephen Staton started. "I know I pulled you away from a busy day to hear this old man speak but I assure you, it will be worth your while. Otherwise, I just wasted the rent for this room."

Laughter went through the room. It lightened the air, but nothing would stop Angela from being on edge.

Her father went on, talking about introductory things that would lead up to his announcement. Angela kept herself as still as a rock, not hearing a word.

"Angela," her mother murmured to her. "You can at least try to look like you want to be here."

"Do not preach to me, Mother," Angela snapped, keeping her face professionally still.

Brenda said nothing after that.

"Now," Stephen said finally. "Let me stop rambling and tell you all while I have decided to call this press conference. As you all know, I have been fortunate enough to not only hone my skills as a businessman, but to have started a beautiful family with my wife and my daughter. It is with their blessing that I have the courage to say to you today that I, Stephen Staton, will be running for the President of the Unites State of America!"

The reporters sprang out of their seats, bouncing into each other as they bombarded Stephen with questions. Even from behind, Angela could see how pleased her father was by their response. The buzz was more than any of them has hoped for.

"Now, now," he said, raising his hands. "I will take your questions one at a time. Now, Meredith—"

The glass window on the other side of the room broke. The world seemed to slow, shards glinting in the sunlight as they rained to the floor. Angela caught it in the corner of her eye, but her attention was on her father—on the way he staggered backwards and clutched his shoulder.

Suddenly, men—including Roger—were next to him, catching him before he fell. Reporters were disarray, looking around. Some wanted to run, others were more interested in the story they would be able to tell.

Angela was halfway to her feet but sank back down. Her legs refused to work. She could only watch as Brenda sprang up and rushed over to her ex-husband. As people crowded him, asking no one in particular if he was okay. A reporter stood, shrugging off his coat.

Yes, please. Save him. Stop the bleeding!

The man doubled over and then collapsed to the ground. More glass littered the floor. The man was dead, blood spreading throughout his stark white shirt.

Dread coiled within her. Roger swam in her vision, his rough hand pulling her out of her seat. How he managed to drag her off the stage, she didn't know. She couldn't take her eyes off the dead man. The man who had tried to save her father.

Who had stood up a second too early.

Who had taken the bullet that had clearly been meant for her.

Like a tap had been turned on, the world sped back up and Angela realized that she was escaping the chaos, Roger leading the way. She pulled her hand from him before they made it out the door.

"I can't leave!" she hissed. "My father! He—"

"He got hit in his shoulder." Roger stood close to her, the sunglasses no longer on his face. She could see the intensity of his brown eyes. "It only grazed him. He might have passed out because of the instant shock but he will be fine. You, however, are in danger. We need to leave."

"It was meant for me, wasn't it?" she asked. "That bullet was meant to hit me."

Roger framed her face with his hands. Angela couldn't tell if she was crying. She knew she was definitely shaking. "Yes," he said without remorse, string into her eyes. "And if we stay here any longer, the next bullet might not miss. Do you trust me, Angela?"

"I..." She held out to his hands, her throat growing thick.

"Do you trust me?" he repeated heatedly.

She swallowed, nodding jerkily.

"Then, do as I say. Or else neither one of us will be able to make I tout of here alive."

***

Hi guys! Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think :)

New upload schedule for Lady in the Streets is every Wednesday. Stay tuned for next week!