by Cassie Miles
Afterward, when he lay beside her, loving her with all his heart and every molecule of his being, he’d expected a summons from Angelo. He’d expected to see St. Mike materialize right beside him and condemn him. But that had not occurred.
And that gave him hope.
Could it happen again? Could he actually be allowed to touch her body? The thought of stroking her flesh and running his fingers through her hair was painfully overwhelming. But he wasn’t ready to take that risk—not until this case was over and he knew she would be safe.
He could only draw one conclusion. The experience they had shared last night, the reverence for each other, wasn’t wrong or sinful. He loved her, and love was a blessed state of being. He had done as Angelo said and followed his heart. Their passion was an expression of truth. But he feared it could not happen again without him seeking his own ultimate physical fulfillment.
And then…what?
“I’m an angel, Liz. Not a man. I can’t promise you anything, I can’t offer the future to you.”
“My darling.” Her eyes shimmered in the noon light. “Strange things have been happening. Odd phenomena. And if you want to believe you’re an angel, I can accept that. But please, please, don’t let it stand between us.”
He flicked the ember off his cigarette and pitched the butt into the street. “You still don’t believe me.”
“I can’t. Angels don’t fit into my reality.”
“Nobody will ever call you gullible, precious.”
“I guess not.”
He leaned back in the passenger seat and stared down the block toward Hector’s town home. “We’ll figure this out later. After the case is solved.”
“Really?” She was alert. “Why do I have the feeling that after the case is solved, you’re going to vanish like a puff of that damned cigarette smoke, and I’ll be left alone?”
“That’s how it usually happens,” he admitted. “The transgressor is brought to justice, and my job is done.”
“So you’d leave me?”
“No,” he said. When he turned and looked directly into her eyes, he communicated the deepest intensity of his spirit. “Whatever it takes, I’ll find a way to come to you.”
She trembled. “You’re scaring me, Dash.”
“Me, too.”
He pushed open his car door. “Let’s walk. We can’t sit here all day.”
They strolled along the tree-lined street. A breeze rustled though the autumn leaves that blanketed the earth.
Shuffling along, she asked, “Have you ever seen Peter Pan? The play, not the movie?”
“Can’t say as I have.”
“Well, there’s a part near the end when Tinkerbell, the pixie, is dying, and the only way she can be saved is if all the children in the audience clap their hands and say that they truly do believe in fairies.”
She could feel him watching her as she tried to explain. “I remember clapping my hands so hard that I thought my palms would bleed. With all my heart, I believed. Then, after the show, I discovered that Tinkerbell wasn’t real after all. She was just a spot of light, a bit of stage magic.”
“And this has meaning for you,” he said.
“It’s like with OrbenCorp. I believed I could have the exciting, exotic job of buyer. But all I ever got to be was a glorified secretary for Jack. Now I don’t want to believe in something I can’t see or touch. Because I don’t want to be so desperately disappointed again.”
“And you’d be disappointed if I wasn’t an angel?”
“I don’t know. It is pretty exciting. How many women can say they’re in love with an avenging angel?” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about love, the kind of love I have for you. It’s strong and good and…eternal.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s how I feel, too.”
“It’s so wonderful that I’m afraid to believe in it. My heart would surely break if I couldn’t be with you.”
They circled around the block and down the alley behind Hector’s house. Liz shook herself. She wasn’t accustomed to revealing such personal insights, and her declaration of love left her feeling tense.
Back to the case, she thought. No more soul-searching for today. She asked, “How come the police aren’t here anymore?”
“Most police departments can’t spare the manpower for a long-term stakeout.”
“Do you think Hector will come back here?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Finding him is our best bet for right now.”
Earlier this morning, she had called in to the blond receptionist at OrbenCorp. In a disguised voice, she’d asked for Hector and had been informed that he wasn’t in the office today. She’d also placed a call to the warehouse. No Hector. Where had he vanished to? And why? Unless he’d murdered Jack, his disappearance made very little sense at all.
They were in the car for about an hour when Dash glanced into the rearview mirror and said, “Now we’re in trouble.”
“What is it? The police?”
“Carlito and his map-reading friend.”
She glanced over her shoulder at a big, late-model Chevy sedan that was cruising extremely slowly and stopping at every other house while the guy in the passenger seat stuck his head out the window to check the address. “Maybe he knows where Hector is hiding. I’m going to ask.”
She gunned the engine and pulled out into the street in front of Carlito’s heavy sedan. Liz jumped out of the driver’s seat and waved to him. “Carlito? Do you remember me? I’m Liz Carradine.”
“Move it, lady.”
She started toward him. “I really want to talk to you about your father.”
Through the windshield, she watched as Carlito’s gaze shifted from her to Dash, who had also disembarked from the car. The young man’s jaw tensed. “Damn you!” he shouted.
Liz raised her hands in a placating gesture. “We’re not going to hurt you. Really.”
“Well, I’m going to hurt you and your friend, lady.”
He leaned his arm out of the car window. In his fist, he held a revolver. It was an oversize gun, and it looked big as a cannon.
Liz registered that fact, pivoted and raced to her car. Moving at top speed, she dove into her seat and yelled, “Dash, get in! He has a gun! Get in here, right now!”
Dash poked his head in the door. “I’m going to take care of Carlito right now. I hate punks.”
“Get in here!”
She heard a bullet smack into the rear of her car, and Liz stomped on the accelerator. Dash had no choice but to jump inside and swing his door closed as she squealed around a corner.
“Stop the car!” he ordered.
“I think not,” she said, concentrating one hundred percent on her driving.
She was coming up to a stop sign. “Now what? Drive right on through. Swerve if someone else is coming. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
But she wasn’t accustomed to high-speed chases, so Liz tapped on the brakes. Half a second later, Carlito crashed into the rear of her little Honda with his big, heavy sedan. She could hear him shouting and laughing.
Liz glanced in her rearview mirror. “You think that’s funny, do you?”
Dash urged caution. “Slow down. Let’s get out and settle this.”
Her fingers gripped the steering wheel. “The kid wants a chase, and that’s what I’m going to give him.”
She jammed the accelerator to the floor and took off at top speed. On the side streets, the little car blasted over potholes and soared over dips like a bucking bronco.
Though Liz was unfamiliar with this part of town, she knew there was a park with a lake somewhere around here, and she aimed in that general direction. Circling a park, she’d have more visibility, more chance to avoid obstacles on the road. At a stoplight, she swerved to avoid a collision. The Honda spun halfway around, but she righted it and continued on her rocket ship path.
A glance in her rearview mirror told her that Carlito had re
gained the space she’d gained with her first sudden spurt of speed. He was right on her tail. Why? The little creep!
After her second near accident, Dash ordered, “Park it.”
“What? And get shot?”
“I’ll take care of Carlito.”
“Dash, this is not the time to try out your bulletproof vest. That’s a real gun. Not an angel gun.”
Liz knew she was going in the wrong direction, away from the park. The neighborhood had taken on a rural aspect. The little frame houses were farther apart. There were mailboxes at the edge of the road. Where the hell was she?
She made a frantic turn to avoid an elderly woman who was crossing the street with a bag of groceries. Liz swung the car too wide. Out of control, she careened along the road. Instinctively, she hammered on the brake. The Honda fishtailed, nosed into a ditch and came to a halt.
The engine was dead. Frantically, she tried to restart the car. “Oh, no! Dash, are you all right? Dash?”
He was out of the car. The sheer terror that rose in her throat was worse than anything she’d felt before. He was going to die. Dash was out of her car and striding toward Carlito and his partner.
She had to stop him. She flung herself out of the car. She was ready to throw herself in front of him to stop the bullet if that’s what it took. If anything happened to Dash, her heart would shatter. He was more important to her than life itself.
“Stay back,” he ordered.
“No! I can’t let you do this!”
“Believe in me, Elizabeth. Stay back.”
The power in his voice compelled obedience, and she halted.
The scene that unfolded on this quiet rural road was like a showdown from the old west. On one side, walking slow, was Carlito with the gun in his hand. Standing and waiting for him was Dash in his trench coat.
Carlito’s older companion was shouting to him. “Don’t do it, Carlito! We have other, more important things. Please. Get back in the car.”
“I won’t kill him,” the young man said. “I’ll just wing him. This guy in the suit is going to know who’s boss.”
He raised the huge gun, aimed and fired.
And Dash made a sudden grab, then held out his hand to show the heavy leaden bullet. He’d caught it in midair!
Carlito paled beneath the swarthy complexion that was so like his father’s. He pulled the trigger again.
Again, Dash snatched the bullet from midair.
Liz could see Dash’s fury. He seemed on fire with it. Sparks flew from his hands. He threw down the bullets. His body tensed. He seemed to grow larger and more powerful.
His clothing was transformed. Instead of his trench coat and fedora, he was clad in gleaming robes, so white that they were almost silver. Around his waist was a maroon cord. The color of a warrior, she remembered.
When he’d explained the hierarchy of angels, the maroon cord had that significance. A warrior. And that was exactly what Dash looked like. An all-powerful creature from another time and place. His dark hair lengthened from the conservative 1930s style haircut. His expression showed a terrible and magnificent ferocity.
Liz felt her breath catch in her throat. Dash was a phenomenon, a remarkable, eternal vision.
And then, in a sudden burst, he displayed his wings. They were massive. The span of shimmering feathers must have stretched thirty feet from tip to tip. And his wings were the most beautiful vision she’d ever seen. They spread in the afternoon sunlight, and the aura around him was intense as the sun itself or a star that had fallen to earth. With one stroke of his powerful wings, he lifted himself and hovered three feet off the ground.
He really was an angel!
In a sonorous voice, he said, “I will spare your miserable life, Carlito. For you are young and foolish.”
Carlito threw his gun to the ground and fell to his knees. He was sobbing. His slim, boyish body trembled. “Know this,” Dash intoned. “I am vengeance. When you strike out against another, you strike out against me.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy cried out. “I’ll be different. I’ll change. I promise I will.”
“I give you this to remember my fury.” Dash lifted his hand, and the robes fell back, revealing a muscular forearm. He pointed, and a burst of light issued forth, touching Carlito on his hand.
The boy screamed.
Then, in an instant, Dash was standing there in his usual trench coat and fedora. He straightened his lapels and turned to Liz, who stared at him, slack-jawed.
She raised her hands and slowly she began to applaud. One clap after another after another. She banged her hands together hard. In her mind, she repeated the words she’d learned so long ago as a child. “I believe. I do believe.”
Dash swept a bow in her direction. “Takes a lot to convince you, precious.”
She ran toward him but stopped short before embracing him. He really was an angel. She really was in love with an angel.
“What’s the matter, precious?”
“I don’t know what to do. Should I kneel and beg for your forgiveness?”
“Yeah, sure,” he drawled, “then you ought to kiss the hem of my trench coat.”
She laughed and her tension faded. He was still Dash, the crazy detective who had captured her heart. But he was an angel, too.
“Come on,” he said, “we need to talk to young Carlito and his friend.”
Carlito was on his feet, trembling and speechless.
His partner stepped forward. Though equally awed, he was able to speak. “I apologize for my young friend. Can you help us?”
“It might be useful,” Liz said, forcing the residual tremble of amazement from her voice, “if we knew what you were looking for.”
“We are trying to find Hector Messenger, the kid’s father. I am his uncle, the brother of Carlito’s mother.”
“I’m not sure that I understand,” Liz said. “Why should a meeting with Hector’s father be difficult?”
“Carlito ran away from his mother in Colombia two years ago, when he was only fifteen. He fell in with bad people, and we had given him up for lost. But Hector kept searching. Every time he was in the country, he searched for his son. And finally, Carlito came to me. He agreed to meet with his father, but he is fearful of being too easily discovered by local police. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Liz said. She glanced toward the young man, whose eyes were still wide and startled. “I’m sorry, Carlito, that you’ve had such a difficult time.”
“I chose it,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “But no more. I wish to start again, to make something of my life.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Dash asked. “How come you don’t just pick up the telephone and call Hector?”
“We have need for caution,” the uncle explained. “These bad friends of Carlito will kill us if they believe he wishes to betray them. So, we did not wish for Hector to be in danger.”
“And?” Liz encouraged.
“On the telephone, I explained this to Hector. He wrote down an address and left it for me in a specified place.” The uncle held out a piece of paper. “Here it is! We have gone to this place a dozen times, and we cannot find Carlito’s father. You see, it says 9119 Jefferson.”
Liz took the piece of paper.
“I am not good with maps,” the uncle said.
“I guess not,” she said. “This says 6116 Jefferson. Number eight.”
She looked to Dash for instructions, but he was striking another match and lighting a cigarette.
“All right,” Liz said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You guys help me get my car out of the ditch, then you follow me. We’ll find Hector.”
Carlito nodded. He gasped out the words, “Thank you.”
Still, she eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not going to try something weird, are you? Not going to run away?”
“I will do as you say.”
As proof, he held out his hand. On his palm, she saw the mark Dash had left upon him. It
was a small tattoo of a flaming sword.
BACK IN HER RED HONDA, driving to the address Hector had written neatly and the dyslexic uncle had read wrong, she blurted, “I was wrong, Dash. I’ll never doubt you again.”
“That’s a safe bet, sweetheart. Because angels never lie.”
“You really are an angel, a celestial being.” Her eyes opened wide, and she released her disbelief. Unfortunately, the path she saw ahead of them was no less rocky. “This presents a whole new set of problems, doesn’t it?”
“Guess so.”
“And that Angelo person who came by the apartment, is he an angel, too?”
“That’s right.”
“And this office you work for on Logan Street. All angels?”
“Right,” he said. “That’s why I couldn’t guarantee you a job there. Like St. Michael says, we’re not an equal opportunity employer. You’ve got to be an angel.”
“But you said your boss might be convinced. And your boss is a saint?”
“You got it, precious.”
“Oh, damn.” She looked up suddenly. “I shouldn’t say that, should I?”
“It’s your decision.”
She wanted to become a professional private investigator, and the logical place to start was with Dash’s office. Because she also wanted to work only with him as his partner. “Isn’t there some kind of application I could fill out? Can’t I be an honorary angel or something?”
“Up until now, I’d have said it was impossible. But things are changing, sweetheart. Faster than I ever imagined.”
“There has to be a way…” The gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in. He really was an angel. When he’d said he couldn’t promise to be with her, when he said they had no future, he meant it. Dash had obligations to another authority, the highest authority.
She was only a mortal woman—not even a saint. Liz felt very vulnerable and small. Her claim on him, her love for him, seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things. She was only one insignificant person, and he carried the ultimate responsibility for justice and truth. He had powers beyond her comprehension.
“I liked it better,” she said, “when I thought you were just a very eccentric man.”
“Why?”