by Lisa Hughey
“Who’s this?” Janine practically purred.
She struggled to focus on the conversation. The pain was gone but she still had that sense of disorientation. Janine just stood there with her hands on her hips, and eyed Rafe, practically beaming at them. Angelina introduced Rafe to Janine, grateful for the effects of his presence as he somehow siphoned away the pain.
“Ange, you really do not look well,” Janine said.
This caused her to get even redder in the face. “I’m fine. Really.”
Rafe leaned in closer. “You sure you’re okay?” His chest was behind her shoulder, the timber of his voice rumbled through her like a whisper.
“I’m fine,” she said faintly.
“Why don’t you take a break?”
“I can’t.”
“No one will miss you for a few minutes. Take a seat and re-power.” Rafe eased slightly closer.
“He’s right, Ange,” Janine agreed.
“Maybe just for a minute.” She backed up and sank into one of the chairs that lined the perimeter of the room. Rafe bent over her protectively, and while his attention was on Angelina, Janine gave her a wink.
“I’ll just man the receiving line.” Janine sauntered away.
“Why are you here?”
He blinked. “To help you.”
“Right. You just disappeared.” After. She flushed again.
“I’m sorry.” Rafe glanced around then leaned forward. “I had a situation. However, I’m ready to continue your training. And right now I’m here to help you get through today.”
“Tell me how you manage to take the pain away so easily.” She moved in closer to him so that no one could overhear their conversation. Heat rolled off his body in waves, the light musk of his unique scent pleased her.
“We have complimentary energy. You’re positive.” Rafe leaned down so that his mouth was near her ear. “I’m negative. My negative draws the positive away from you so you can function.”
She shivered as the warmth of his breath shimmied through her body. “How did you know I needed you?”
He frowned. “I could sense your distress.”
“That was fast.”
“When you touched the old lady, your thoughts came through loud and clear.”
“So you can sense my thoughts?” She thought about what she’d just been imagining. Could he have sensed her sexual thoughts? And how sick was that? She was having sexual thoughts at her Grammy’s wake. Her voice trembled just the tiniest bit with lust or embarrassment. She wasn’t quite sure.
His look turned knowing. “Sometimes, yes.” He’d not only heard, he’d reacted.
“Oh.” Shit.
“Hello, Angelina.”
Oh, shit again. Even bigger shit. She mentally apologized to Brandt for the swearing. And then she faced the new arrival to Grammy’s wake. “Hello, Gary. Candy.”
Her ex and his girlfriend were here.
TWENTY
“Why are you here?”
Rafe’s eyebrows rose at her hostile tone. But she couldn’t help it. Gary looked good. Better than he had for the last two years of their marriage. And she was the one who’d given him the catalyst to get back in shape.
Candy still looked like a swizzle stick with giant boobs and wrinkled, over-tan skin.
“Just thought we’d pay our respects.”
That was a crock. Gary and Grammy had never gotten along. Grammy had never approved of Gary. He was the only subject she and Grammy had ever disagreed over. Angelina should have listened to her.
“She didn’t have any money,” Angelina said baldly. That was the only reason Gary would be here. He was pissed about the support hearing.
Candy’s botoxed lips tightened, sort of. Her dress was perfect for a cocktail party. It missed the mark as a mourning dress.
Gary smoothed a hand down the front of his conservatively striped tie. “You look....”
She waited for a subtle put down.
“Great,” he said lamely. “Really great.”
At that Candy glared at him.
Rafe inserted himself into the conversation smoothly. “You haven’t introduced us.”
She tilted her head at him. What was he up to? The shock of his presence hit her anew. His six five frame, wide shoulders, small waist, lean muscles. Big and intimidating with a glint in his eye that said he could be dangerous if you pissed him off. But what got her was the wave of black hair that fell over one eyebrow, the knowing smile on his beautiful mouth, and the heat in his silvery gray gaze.
“I guess I had other things on my mind.” She let her gaze linger on the contours of Rafe’s face before she smiled. Then she turned and introduced them.
“Rafe, this is Gary, my ex, and his girlfriend, Candy.” Angelina then said smugly, “This is Rafe. My...friend.”
Candy’s face held priceless shock. And okay, yeah, she was shallow enough that the way Rafe looked next to her tweaked her confidence.
“How long have you known each other?” Gary eyed them speculatively.
“Old friend of the family,” she interjected before Rafe could answer. In an obvious act of dismissal, Angelina turned to greet the next person in the receiving line. She took a thin breath, and hoped Gary wouldn’t notice her relief that they were out of her proximity.
She pasted a smile on her face, but the sudden shift caused a rush of dizziness. Rafe’s arm was around her before she fell.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday? Maybe. I’ve been under a little bit of stress.”
“It’s imperative that you eat well and stay healthy.” Rafe sounded like a mother hen. “Your gift will take an incredible amount of personal energy to heal and you must be ready at all times to perform your duties.”
She had to look out for her kids, her sister, the house, the finances, before she took care of herself. The greater good could just get in line. She was pretty sick of the whole gift thing. All these vague suggestions, no concrete action or reaction, no specific rules to follow.
“What the hell do you want from me?” she whispered harshly.
He leaned in closer to her, his breath hot on her face. “Nothing I can have.”
His unique scent assaulted her senses, and flooded her brain with erotic images. She remembered his taste on her tongue the last time they were this close. “Well, you’re driving me crazy.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Rafe leaned up into her until they almost touched. The heat from his body scorched her, and his breath feathered along her neck.
“Ah, Ange?” Janine’s sultry voice came from behind her. “You guys might want to tone it down a little. You’re at Grammy’s wake.”
Her dry comment shocked Angelina back into awareness. She blinked and looked around at all the people who were trying very obviously not to ogle her and Rafe. Even Gary, the man slut, was frowning at her.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.” Embarrassment flushed her face. “I was a little faint.”
Janine drawled, “That’s not all you were, sugar.”
Suddenly a big blond giant of a man walked in. He had perfectly shaped eyebrows, incredible blue eyes, dirty-blond hair clubbed into a stubby ponytail, cheekbones Rodin would have killed to sculpt, and not a glimmer of friendliness on his face. A blue button-down shirt contained his broad chest. The muscles in his thighs bunched and released beneath crisply pressed khaki pants as he strode toward them.
Rafe swore under his breath.
“You know him?” Her words more breathy than she would have liked.
“Yeah.”
Of course he did. His shape and his swagger looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “He’s not....”
“Who?” Janine turned around slowly. Angelina could see the exact moment the buff dude’s presence registered on her man-meter. “Oh my.”
“Hey.” The blond giant acknowledged Rafe, with just a hint of an accent, German or Russian? Then he clicked his heels together and executed a slight bow toward A
ngelina. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
This blond giant seemed aggravated. A certain anger simmered under the surface but Angelina had no idea if the emotion was directed at her or someone else. Then she decided she was being paranoid. She’d never met the guy, it couldn’t be her.
She fell back on etiquette. “Umm, thank you.”
“Angelina, Janine, this is Uri.” Rafe tipped his chin up.
Janine just stood there looking back and forth from Rafe to Uri, blinking as if she couldn’t take it all in. Her eyes rounded although her forehead didn’t move.
Uri was completely oblivious to Janine’s intense perusal. “Your loss is the world’s loss.”
His obvious sorrow disconcerted her. Uri’s gaze bored into Rafe as if he was trying to communicate telepathically. Could they even do that? She didn’t have any idea what Archangels could do.
“You would be wise to prohibit another such loss.”
What the heck did that mean? Another loss? Was he threatening her? Angelina couldn’t get her vocal chords to work. She glanced at Rafe but his attention was focused one hundred percent on Uri.
Rafe shoulders suddenly seemed broader. His face took on the smooth hardness of a statue. She had the thought that if Uri punched Rafe right now he would break his hand on the granite of Rafe’s body. “Not here, my friend.”
The tension in Rafe’s body convinced her they really were friends.
Uri toned down the animosity. “Your grandmother was an amazing woman.”
“You knew Grammy?” Her eyebrows rose and she hoped Janine didn’t catch on to her stress. Should he really have admitted that in front of a--whatever they called people who didn’t know that Angels existed. Janine was too busy drooling over Uri to notice their strange conversation.
“Many years ago.” He paused. “We worked a humanitarian effort together.”
“Sign me up.” Janine sighed.
Angelina stifled a snort of laughter.
Suddenly a warbled cry came from the other side of the room. In slow motion, Mrs. Hooper began to topple to the ground, her head perilously close to the row of folding chairs by the casket.
“Trouble,” Rafe barked.
TWENTY-ONE
As one, Rafe and Uri leaped across the room as chairs fell like dominoes. In unison, they each caught Mrs. Hooper’s arms and torso, and kept her from hitting her head.
Gary pushed his way through the crowd around the frail, unconscious Mrs. Hooper. “I’m a doctor, let me through.”
We need you, Rafe mouthed at her. Now.
“I’d better go check on Mrs. Hooper.” She tossed off to Janine, and then Angelina ran toward them. Angelina was almost to them when it hit her.
The diabetes. Something must have happened.
“She just overheated,” Rafe said to Gary. It was a cool sixty degrees in the viewing room, but Gary nodded in response. Carefully Rafe lifted the older woman. Her body seemed even more fragile in the bulk of his muscular arms. He strode out of the room while Gary trailed behind him like a baby duck after its mama.
She led Rafe to the private room reserved for the family in case they needed a moment to compose themselves.
He laid Mrs. Hooper, still unconscious, on the burgundy velvet chaise that to Angelina looked uncomfortably like the inside of a coffin. Gary attempted to get through to the old woman but Uri blocked his way. Rafe beckoned to her.
She could see the moment the confusion hit Gary. “You need to let me check her.”
Angelina knelt on the floor, her skirt rode up her thighs. Once she was in position, Uri stepped out of the way but stayed in the small room, feet apart, hands clasped in front of him, acting like a bodyguard.
The familiar scent of Chanel No. 5 and bleach hit her senses. She braced then reached for Mrs. Hooper’s hand and curled her fingers around the old woman’s wrist. Before she could put her hand on Mrs. Hooper’s chest, vertigo, shocking and intense, nearly blinded her.
“She doesn’t need someone to hold her hand,” Gary sneered. “Let me through.”
She heard Rafe ask, “Any idea what’s wrong?”
“She has diabetes.”
“How do you know?” Gary asked as he took Mrs. Hooper’s pulse from her other wrist, then lifted her eyelids.
“We discussed her health when she came in.” She gasped as the debilitating pain hammered at her.
“Aspirin,” Gary muttered.
She could hear him as if she were in a wind tunnel and the words blew by at warp speed. Her body was ripping apart, the pieces flying. She focused on getting the words out. “Could be a stroke.”
Electricity ripped through her head like tiny needles poking into her scalp until her hair follicles radiated with excruciating pain. She could visualize the electrical pulses sending dangerous levels of energy through Mrs. Hooper’s brain. Blood tried to push through her blocked and constricted blood vessels. Her head throbbed in time to the deadly rhythm.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her thoughts popped out of her mouth. I can’t do this.
“Just hold her hand and shut up.” Gary dialed his cell as he shoved aspirin into Mrs. Hooper’s mouth.
“Help me,” she whispered to Rafe while Gary was on the phone. “I don’t know what to do.”
What if she made it worse?
Rafe put his hand on her shoulder. “Just open your mind.”
She tried again to open and look into the quantum physics of Mrs. Hooper’s body. “Hurts.” She forced the words out, her throat so closed she could barely suck in any air.
Rafe’s fingers squeezed her shoulder. His touch lessened some of the pain, and drew the energy from her and into his body. “Concentrate,” Rafe encouraged her gently.
“What are the physiological effects of a stroke on the body?” she asked Gary through gritted teeth.
“Now is not the time for a medical lesson,” Gary sniped.
“What can it hurt?” Rafe asked.
“Fine. Blood vessels constrict, limiting oxygen to the brain or completely cutting it off. It can be the result of a blood clot.”
Clot. That was it.
A clot had cut off Mrs. Hooper’s oxygen, which was probably why she couldn’t breathe. Angelina let her mind guide her through Mrs. Hooper’s body. The pain and the inability to breathe began to affect her body functions.
Finally, finally Angelina found the obstruction in Mrs. Hooper’s leg. She imagined the clot breaking into little pieces slowly, very slowly, so that a big chunk didn’t break loose.
She could see the small pieces dissolve and float into the blood. As if the stranglehold on her veins had been loosened, they plumped back up with life-affirming blood. The electricity arcing through Angelina quieted to an imperceptible buzz in her bloodstream.
An ambulance wailed in the background as Gary fussed with whatever he had been doing.
She began to feel the toll from dissolving the clot while she concealed the effort from Gary. Lassitude stole through her body. “She will live.” Her words came out slurred as if she’d been mainlining scotch. She asked Rafe, but Gary took his attention from whatever he’d been doing.
“You sound terrible.” Gary frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” The word was long and drawn out.
“How much have you had to drink?” He was totally exasperated. “You know you can’t hold your wine.”
“Angelina?” Mrs. Hooper squeezed her hand.
“Hey, Mrs. Hooper.” She squeezed back gently, her strength nearly depleted. “How are you feeling?”
“Why...I feel great,” she rasped. “Thank you, dear.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Ma’am, the ambulance is here.” Gary directed the paramedics over to Mrs. Hooper.
“Oh, but I feel fine.” She smiled serenely.
The paramedics bent down and began to assess her condition. They took her blood pressure, checked her pupils, and hooked her up to the equipment. She pushed up into a sitting position. Gar
y’s jaw dropped. The paramedics asked her to answer some basic questions, her name, the day. She answered correctly. They asked her to smile which she’d done for Angelina and Rafe. Then they had her lift her arms above her shoulders. She did all of that with no problems.
“I would recommend you go to the hospital for a complete check.” The paramedic said slowly, “But you seem fine.”
“She was fully unconscious.” Gary sputtered. “Unresponsive.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to go get checked out. Maybe have them check my blood sugar this time,” Mrs. Hooper said. “Thank you again, dear.”
“I just held your hand.” Angelina still knelt beside Mrs. Hooper. Angelina wanted to move but she couldn’t have gotten up to save her life.
The paramedics loaded Mrs. Hooper onto the stretcher. Gary watched with a bewildered look on his face as Mrs. Hooper waved before the doors closed. “She was close to death.”
“Maybe it was a miracle,” Rafe said.
“Miracles are a myth,” Gary snapped. “Modern medical science cures people.”
Uri snorted. At least she was pretty sure that it was him. “Could have fooled me.”
Gary scoffed. “No way.”
Rafe extended his hand down to Angelina. She concentrated on lifting her arm, focused on the physical effort, but her arm felt disconnected from her body. Even though her brain was sending signals, nothing happened.
Angelina had questions for Rafe. That had been amazing and scary all at once. She had felt as if her breath was cut off. As if she didn’t clear that clot, she would have passed out. And now she could barely move.
Rafe’s hand touched hers. As if she’d been zapped, energy jolted her. Rafe’s arm snaked around her waist, even though she could stand without the support now.
She smiled a thanks and then turned to her ex-husband.
“You never know.” She shrugged. A few weeks ago, she would have agreed with him. But now she knew better. The world was full of anomalies that could not be explained with logic and science. “Miracles do happen.”
“When did you turn into a fruitcake?” Gary snarled.
Rafe subtly moved to protect her from Gary’s scorn, partially blocking her body. She’d been protecting herself for a long time but his action caused something tender to unfurl within her.