Angelic Ink
an excerpt

The insistent pounding on the front door pulled Raphael out of a healing sleep. Dragging his body out of bed, he glanced at the clock and cursed. He took stock of his injuries as he pulled on a pair of jeans. One eye still swollen shut, just an ache where his jaw had been broken, his split lip still throbbed, though the cut had healed. Ribs were knitting, but would still hurt for another day. The gunshot wound in his thigh still bled sporadically, and the knife wound in his shoulder hurt like a bitch. He’d only been asleep for three hours. Somebody’d better be damn near dead.