Angel: An SOBs Novel

by Irish Winters

  “L-leave,” she ordered, already face down and choking over the porcelain throne.

  But did he listen? Does any man listen to a puking woman? She lost track of him as her stomach ruined the end of what would’ve been a good day. Everything came up and out. By the time her traitorous body finished making her look like the weakest, most helpless woman on the planet, Suede was just that. To make matters worse, she started to cry, and once the tears started, Suede was done.

  Kindly Pagan was still there, holding her hair like a loyal boy scout who didn’t know when to quit. He didn’t say a word as he flushed the toilet and ran the faucet. On one knee now, he tugged her against his leg, smoothed her hair and wiped her face. At least he’d used cool water to wet that cloth. Warm wouldn’t have done a bit of good.

  Suede closed her eyes at his gentle care, weary of her life and the mess it always turned into. “Thank you,” she whispered so he’d know she wasn’t a complete ass.

  “Shush now,” he whispered back. “You’re running a fever, and you’ve done too much for a woman in your delicate condition. I’m going to lift you now. Do you think you can handle it this time?”

  “I’m not in a delicate condition.” That made her sound pregnant.

  Pagan growled. “Don’t argue. I just meant you’re still recovering.”

  Oh, that. She nodded, ashamed that he meant to carry her, but crawling would’ve been so much more demeaning. “I’m not pregnant,” she told him as he settled her butt on his knee, then lifted to his feet as easily as if he were lifting a child.

  “I never said you were, but you’re not one hundred percent either, are you, Suede? Christ, you fell off a cliff yesterday. It’s a wonder you’re not broken.”

  In no time, she was tucked into bed, leaning heavily against Chance’s pillow, and her adventure helping in the kitchen was over. Pagan pulled the blanket up to her chin as he sat at the edge of the bed. “You’re bleeding again.”

  “I know,” whined out of her. Floor, just swallow me now!

  Black eyes peered out from under his brows. “I meant your hip, not your head. I need to change the bandage.”

  “Okay,” she whimpered as she rolled to her good side. Get it over with. “I just wanted to help.” What was that saying about good intentions? That they paved the way to hell? Taxi!

  Pagan was as swift at changing the dressing this time as he was the last. In minutes, Suede was on her back again and exhausted. While he dealt with the cut on her forehead, she kept her eyes closed. Maybe he’d go away if he thought she’d fallen asleep. No such luck.

  “If you’d like, I could braid a few cornrows on this side of your head. Maybe add some colorful beads. An eye-patch.”

  Suede peered up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He winked down at her through his arms since both of his hands were busy, one cupping her head to hold her steady while the other smoothed a butterfly bandage over her latest injury. “You look like a pirate with your black eyes and bruises. Aye Matey?”

  He almost made her smile. “I’m a fucking idiot,” she confessed in case there was any way possible that he’d missed that incredible talent of hers. Some people were piano or math geniuses. She apparently was best at messing up her life.

  His brows collided in the same way that Chance’s did when she’d cussed. “Now Suede, my mother always said, if you can’t say anything nice, then—”

  “‘Don’t say anything at all,’” she whispered the last of that well-known axiom. “I forgot. I’m trying not to cuss, but I don’t get it. You’re obviously former military. So’s Chance, but you guys don’t use bad language. What’s up with that?”

  Pagan’s big shoulders quirked upward and his eyes stayed fastened to his fingers as he closed the first aid kit. “Now, don’t go turning us into saints. You haven’t heard me when I bash my finger with a wrench or when Chance drops a pine tree on his foot. We know the same expletives you do. Maybe more.”

  “But you strive to be better.”

  He winked at her then. “I don’t know about Chance, but not cursing is my way of keeping Mom alive in my heart. You would’ve liked her, Suede, and I have no doubt she would’ve liked you.”

  There was something incredibly dear about these Sinclair boys who missed their mom. “You really loved her, huh?”

  “Sure. That’s what kids do. No matter how big they get, they always love their mothers. Don’t you?”

  Wasn’t that the question of the century? “I don’t know,” Suede answered truthfully. “My mom never had time for me. I don’t have warm memories of her.”

  Pagan set the kit to the nightstand. “What you need to do is rest, Suede. Are you hungry at all? I’ve got to be honest, the dinner you fixed looks better than what I had in mind.”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you, but save some for Chance, would you? He might show.”

  Pagan cocked his head. “That’s what you’re hoping, isn’t it? That Chance comes back tonight. Didn’t he tell you he had work to do?”

  She nodded, her eyes heavy and fading fast. “He did, but a woman can always hope.”

  “Aye, aye Matey,” she thought she heard Pagan whisper from the doorway. “And it’s high time Chance stopped running.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “She’s what?” Chance couldn’t believe his ears. Suede had taken a turn for the worse? How’d that happen?

  “You heard me, brother. The antibiotic isn’t working. She’s delirious and she keeps asking for you,” Pagan insisted. “Kruze just left to get a doctor. You’d better get back here. I’m worried.”

  There was a catch to Pagan’s tone that Chance couldn’t decipher, but the thought of Suede failing after all he’d gone through to ensure she lived, sent a stabbing pain to his gut. Losing a bright and shining star like her was akin to being thrown overboard and keelhauled. He wouldn’t survive in a world without her in it. Not that he expected to marry the woman. That was most definitely not what this was about, but knowing that she was alive and happy somewhere out there…

  It didn’t have to be with him…

  “But the mission always comes first…” Chance let his words trail away. That was what he’d thought the last time he’d lost someone important in his life, while he was on an important mission. If he’d been in San Diego where he should’ve been, if he’d been with his mom, he wouldn’t have lost his team.

  What would it hurt? He’d been waiting a day now for her highness Mother Nature to finish the high-handed blizzard that wouldn’t seem to end. So far, that had left him cold to his bones and biding his time until who knew how much longer? The soft peppermint candies he’d brought with him were nearly gone. There might be enough time to rappel down Old Man Mountain one last time. Just to see Suede. Just to make sure.

  It wasn’t that far of a drop. Think about it. You’ll be back in an hour or two. Three tops. What could happen in that amount of time? York wasn’t going anywhere, and if Suede was that bad...? Chance raked a hand over his balaclava and beanie covered head. If she’s that bad, I’ll fix it. I will. Then I’ll be back on duty. I will.

  “Be right there,” he told his brother, but why wasn’t Pagan still hanging on the line? That he’d hung up without an answer spiked a burst of adrenaline like Chance had never known before. He jumped to his feet. His hyper vigilance red zoned. Suede must’ve taken a turn for the worse. She could be dying, and Pagan was too busy caring for her to waste time convincing his hardheaded older brother to man up. Well, I’m manning up now.

  It took Chance seconds to pack his rifle and gear. Before he knew it, he was out of that rustic cabin and running into the wind. The pistol in his hand was the only reminder that York was still a man to be taken seriously, just not enough of a deterrent to prevent Chance from getting to Suede. If York got in the way, he was dead.

  At the edge of the cliff, Chance set his bag down and strapped in to his rappel gear for the trip down. With his rappel device secured to his belay loop, he jerk
ed enough rope for the slack needed. By then he was anchored and ready to drop his line over the edge at what might have been the exact spot where York had shoved Suede to her death. The flaming bastard.

  Chance glanced back at the direction of York’s rig, seeing red. For two cents I’d…

  Was leaving this murderer to live another day the right decision? For the first time he questioned his rationale. Another man might have offed York without a second thought, but damn it. As much as Chance wanted revenge, he wanted the best for Suede more. She needed a second chance at a decent life.

  Bottom line: there wasn’t time for York’s come-to-Jesus meeting. Not right now.

  Chance double-checked his weight against the rappel anchor and the setup, fighting for composure. This wasn’t the time to make an amateur mistake and fall, not with Suede’s future in the balance. Not with her murderer a mere yards away. If York were out and about, Chance doubted he’d have a clue what the snow-camouflaged shadow was standing at the drop point anyway, but a smart man didn’t take unnecessary risks.

  Jerking the ropes one last time, Chance made certain they were threaded through the device correctly. He set his auto-block, his backup in case the unexpected happened and somehow, he was knocked unconscious. With this wind, anything could happen once he stepped over the edge. A man in a hurry made mistakes. Chance Sinclair didn’t want to be that man.

  Bouncing on pure adrenaline now, he secured his gear bags over one shoulder with a bungee cord, turned his back on the blizzard whipping at his six, and over he went. Kicking away from the sheer granite face to give himself more room, he jackrabbited his descent, his boots hitting the granite wall in steady jumps instead of one long fall.

  The hardest lesson he’d brought home from all of his deployments was that there were no second chances. The guys you roomed with, fought side by side with, and were prepared to die for, too many times didn’t come home at the end of a long, hard day. And no, by God, seeing them for the last time when they were laid out in flag-covered coffins aboard a C-130 loading platform didn’t count. It worked the same for those you left behind. That one last goodbye at the guard shack at whichever naval base you deployed from had better be good because it might be your last. And if you were dumb enough to procrastinate telling the ones closest to you that you loved them? He swallowed hard. Then you were a fool.

  Shit, the wind was bitter and brisk, nipping at his exposed skin, which wasn’t much due to his balaclava. Distances were difficult to determine when your whole world was moving, blustering snow, so Chance took his time. He let his harness hold his weight. At the next anchor, he repeated the process and wondered yet again how Suede had survived such a fall.

  Because of the odds against her, it was easy to jump to the conclusion that she was a spy, but Chance knew better. He still hadn’t a clue why York had chosen this specific location, but he knew Suede’s heart. She wasn’t who the press or York had portrayed her to be.

  The only thing that made a lick of sense involved the capriciously wild storm that seemed to have set up camp over Northern Montana. It was just possible that Mother Nature’s relentless assault that night was what slowed Suede’s fall. Maybe an updraft. Maybe it was just that Suede weighed no more than a downy fluff in comparison to Mother Nature’s massive power. Maybe she’d been tossed around on her way down instead of falling like a stone.

  It sounded like one too many maybes. Chance had no idea what really happened, but the notion of Suede’s billion-to-one survival played at the edge of his keen mind. He didn’t believe in coincidences, and his mom had always said everything happened for a reason, even the bad things. Suede was like the dog Scarlett had left her oldest son, an unexpected gift Chance had no idea how much he’d want at the end of the day.

  Christ, if the antibiotics hadn’t worked, what choice did Pagan have but to send Kruze for a doctor? What are you trying to tell me, Mom? That you’re watching over me? That you always know better? Well, knock it off already.

  At last! His boots touched down. Home was less than a mile away, an easy hump on a good day. He made it in ten minutes despite the accumulated snow, his only goal to reach Suede before she coughed her last breath.

  Damn it, Pagan. All you had to do was keep her safe and get her well. What was so hard about that? The answer, of course, was York. He’d meant Suede to die, and she was, damn him to hell.

  Shoving his heavy wooden front door open, Chance inhaled the heated indoor air and shook the snow off his shoulders and head. The cabin was dark and no fire burned in the central fireplace. Gallo didn’t come running to meet him. Where is everyone? Shit. Am I too late?

  He slammed the door and ran for his room, shedding his gear as he went. The eerie silence of his mansion in the mountains whispered, ‘You’re always too late. She’s gone and you’ve lost her, too.’

  Like hell, Chance thought as he laid an open palm to his door, but bowed his head instead of shoving it open. “I need this one in my life,” he murmured to himself. Really. He wasn’t praying to God or, or anyone—up there. He didn’t believe in that stuff, not after the last six months. Those words were for him and him alone. No one else. Certainly not a higher power that might actually be real and waiting on him to call out for an assist, like a kid to a father.

  Regardless of what Chance thought he believed in, the relentless plea spilled out of him and flew heavenward. “This one’s different. Please. Let her live.”

  Enough! Silently, Chance propelled himself into the darkness. He could’ve sworn he heard a shuffle and the hiss of a door closing behind him, but there she was, as still as a corpse, her head on his pillow and her body motionless. That Gallo had chosen to sleep on the floor at the end of the bed confirmed Chance’s worst fears. Even the dog knew...

  Chance choked as he fell to his knees at Suede’s side, his head bowed and his worst nightmare come true. “Mom, no. Not fair.”

  Gentle fingers threaded into his hair caressing his scalp. “Chance?”

  His head jerked up. “You’re not dead?”

  Suede coughed that awful, barky cough, but shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  He hadn’t a clue how he got up off his knees, but the next thing he knew he was on the bed and holding her frail body in his arms, her poor backside on his lap as he shook with relief. He buried his face in her hair. She’d washed it, and by God, his cock stood up and took notice, but for the first time in years, it wasn’t enough. He let his tears loose. This sweet, gentle person was alive. There’d be no coffin or funeral this time. No last regrets either. I’m not too late.

  The sweetest fingers traced his cheekbones, wiping at the emotion running like a river into his beard. “What’s wrong? Did York hurt you? Are you okay?”

  Ah, where to start? “Nothing,” was all he could choke out, his heart and soul on fire for the lady in his arms. “Pagan said you were ill, and I thought…” He swallowed hard and tried again, “I thought…” That I’d lost you like I’d lost my mother. That I’d arrived too late to tell you goodbye, or that I care, or that maybe… God! So many maybes!

  “I have had a bad day,” Suede admitted hoarsely, smoothing her fingers over his beard, tugging at it in her gentle way and ending with her palm over his thrumming breastbone.

  So have I, but I’m okay now. Chance pressed her head under his chin and lowered his nose to the sweet perfume in her hair, needing to catch his balance before he fell apart. He hadn’t been this emotional in months, six to be exact. It had never been made clearer. He needed a woman in his life. Not just any woman, but this one. Only this one.

  He planted a kiss in the deepest, sweetest smelling tangles against her warm scalp, breathing her back into his soul where he wanted her to stay.

  “But I feel better now,” she whispered, her fingers stealing up his bicep to his shoulder, and from there, to the curve of his stiff neck.

  “Me too,” he said, meaning it from the darkest corner of his tattered soul. His lungs expanded with a welcome rush
of relief. The wicked buzz of regret in his head cleared. For the first time in months, Chance Sinclair felt better.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It seemed surreal, holding Chance in a full embrace like she was, but Suede didn’t care. This was what she’d wanted since he’d left to go after York. To have him safe and sound in her arms after all the terrible things that could’ve happened, warmed her like nothing else. He’d come for her and that made twice she owed him. Once for saving her life, this time for saving her soul.

  Her fingers wandered up the back of his neck to tangle in his shaggy hair. He smelled of wind and snow mixed with manly sweat, and that epithelial-filled combination was fast becoming her favorite fragrance. Lifting her chin, her nose grazed his bearded chin.

  “What’s wrong, Chance?” He seemed distraught, but why he’d thought she’d died was a puzzle she didn’t have the answer to. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’. I’m not stupid. You’re upset. Talk to me.” She had been sleeping extra sound after her debacle in the kitchen and puking her guts up in the bathroom with Pagan, but she didn’t look that bad, did she? She’d brushed her hair, and she’d finally found a toothbrush. Her breath was decent again. Okay, so maybe she had a bad case of bed-hair, but what’d he expect from a woman who was lucky to be alive?

  He tilted his upper body away from her but kept his hands on her biceps. “Pagan told me you weren’t feeling well, and I thought—”

  Canting her head, she got into that space between them where he had no choice but to look down at her. “You thought I was dying?”

  A nearly imperceptible quiver was her only answer.

  “You called me Mom,” she whispered. He’d sounded so desperate then, as if he were beseeching his mother for help.

  “No, I didn’t, I… I...” He rolled his neck, drawing his gaze away from her as he huffed, struggling with something that seemed to be tearing him apart. “It was just that… Shit. I mean…” One hand stabbed into the dark shadows of his hair like a rake in a pitch black haystack.