by Cassie Miles
She leaned close to him without touching his raiment. Beneath his wing, she felt safe and warm. She gazed at him through misted eyes. "I watched you."
"I know."
"You were so beautiful."
"But my attempt was worthless," he said. "The power is back on. Hugh must have a generator on the property. I should have known."
"What will we do next?"
"I'll take human form and slip inside."
"To disable the electrical equipment?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. There might be a more direct way to destroy the virus. Once I'm in there, I'll look around."
"I'm coming with you, Rafe. You'll be mortal. You could get hurt."
Lightly, he stroked a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "So could you. No, Jenna. This is my battle."
His battle? She could have argued that if he failed, her world would be destroyed. She could have told him that she'd be careful and wouldn't take risks. But his blue eyes had hardened like tempered steel. The muscles in his arms were taut, sculpted in ridges like polished teak. His determination convinced her, without words, that he wasn't about to listen to reason.
He stood beside her. "Go back to the safe house, Jenna. Wait for me there."
With a whoosh, he was gone, vanished into thin air.
Under her breath, she muttered, "Like heck I will."
Darting through the underbrush, Jenna made her way toward the tall stucco wall that surrounded the Montclair estate. The rain was already beginning to abate. The last rays of afternoon sunshine crept past the clouds.
She reached the wall and leaned against it. About six feet in height and smooth, it offered no footholds; there was no way to scale the surface. Not without flying, she thought, but that was Rafe's province.
Jenna traversed the walled boundary until she found an elm tree with overhanging branches. For a former tomboy like herself, it was easy to climb up and over the wall. She dropped soundlessly to the soft earth on the other side.
Carefully, she took note of her position. On the Montclair side of the wall, the foliage was thick and green. Several trees were close to the wall. Escape from this side would be simple.
Unless she was pursued. Were there guards? Hugh had mentioned several employees. Were any of them armed and dangerous? And what about the animals? Guard dogs?
Careful to avoid attracting attention to herself, she moved slowly, keeping herself hidden. She also removed the gun from her purse and held it ready.
She hadn't gone far when she spotted Rafe about fifty yards from her. Dressed in a black shirt and trousers, he eased like a shadow from tree to tree.
So far, so good. Apparently, no one had noticed his approach.
Then she heard a shout.
"Hey, you! What do you think you're doing?"
A man with a black cowboy hat stood in the center of a clearing. He wore a leather jacket. On a shoulder strap, he carried an AK-47 machine gun.
Rafe raised his hands above his head. "I'm unarmed," he said.
"Yeah?" The cowboy came close and patted Rafe down. "What the hell are you doing in here, mister?"
"I wanted to get out of the rain."
"Bull," the cowboy snapped. "You don't look like a homeless person trying to keep warm."
"I won't be a problem. I'll leave."
Jenna crept nearer, keeping herself well hidden behind the unusual foliage of fern and shrub.
The cowboy set down his gun. "You'll leave, all right. But first, I'm going to teach you a lesson about breaking in where you're not wanted."
They were close to the same height. Both men were powerfully built.
The cowboy chuckled. "I'm going to kick your sorry butt."
He took the first swing. Though Rafe feinted out of the way, the blow connected with his shoulder and spun him around.
Jenna feared that the cowboy had the advantage. The many transformations in form had taken their toll on Rafe. Though he stood his ground, he seemed weary, barely able to hold his arms up.
The cowboy took another poke at him.
This time, Rafe dodged successfully and landed a hard right jab in the other man's face. He followed with another jab.
The cowboy danced backward. "You want to play rough?"
"No," Rafe said. "I want to leave peacefully."
"Too late for that." His next assault was a flying kick that landed in Rafe's midsection, doubling him over. He followed with a second kick to the face.
Rafe was suddenly flat on his back. He'd been injured. His face was marked with blood, but he was still game. With the cowboy standing over him, Rafe struggled to his feet.
This had to stop. Jenna had to stop it.
But how? She couldn't take a chance at shooting the cowboy, nor did she want to. Kneeling on the ground, she searched for something else to use as a weapon. A fallen tree branch, looking heavy as a club, caught her eye.
She grabbed it and moved closer to the fight.
Rafe had managed to retaliate. He caught the next kick and flipped the cowboy onto his back. Rafe tried to pin the other arm but failed.
The cowboy went for his AK-47. He aimed the muzzle at Rafe's middle. "We're going up to the house, mister. And I'm calling the cops."
Jenna was directly behind him.
She lifted the branch over her head and, with all her strength, she hammered the armed man over the head. He crumpled to the ground, tried to rise, then collapsed in a heap.
Rafe wasn't in much better shape. She ran to his side.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Saving your mortal butt," she said. "Come with me."
"Got to make it to the house."
He took two steps in that direction and halted. He was weaving clumsily. Rough abrasions marked the side of his forehead and face. A trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. His right arm clutched his stomach.
"Come on, Rafe. Let's get out of here. We need a better plan." When she caught hold of him, he leaned heavily against her. "Come on, now. Can you walk?"
His eyes wavered, unfocused. Had he sustained a concussion? If so, how was he staying on his feet? "Damn it, Rafe. You're either the bravest or the dumbest man I've ever met."
"Not a man." His brave smile tugged at her heart. "I'm an angel."
"Your halo is crooked, Rafe. Let's go."
Chapter Ten
By the time they'd reached the stucco wall that surrounded the Montclair property, Rafe was able to stand without Jenna's support, but he hadn't regained his strength. Stumbling and falling, every step was an ordeal. His ears droned with the noise of a hundred angry hornets. He was dizzy, confused. His human brain was scrambled. All he wanted was to sleep—to close his eyes and give himself over to silent rest.
"We're almost there," Jenna encouraged. "Only a little farther."
"Leave me," he said hopefully. She was a rugged taskmaster, driving him onward.
"Don't quit now, Rafe. All you have to do is climb over the wall."
"Is that all?"
Scaling a six foot wall should have been nothing to him. Routinely, he soared at high altitudes. As an angel, he could have dematerialized and walked through the wall. But he wasn't an angel now. He was a man who had been in a brutal fistfight with a professional bodyguard. Rafe Santini was a mortal man who was learning what it was to suffer pain.
He lowered his head and closed his eyes, hoping to clear his blurred vision. The bruises on his forehead and face throbbed. Worse than the hurting was the overwhelming weakness.
"Let's go." Jenna nudged his arm. "We have to hurry. That cowboy is going to wake up. Others will come looking for us. We have to get out of here."
She pushed him toward the thick trunk of an elm tree. Roughly, she grabbed his forearms and placed his hands on a chest-high branch. "Climb, Rafe. You can do it."
His skull felt like it had been split in two. The roaring in his ears, ceaseless as the Pacific surf, obscured the sound of her voice. "What?"
"
Try, Rafe! Hurry!"
Her head whipped around. He saw the swift motion in a series of stop-action frames. He wanted to help her instead of being a burden. But his eyelids were too heavy. His arms fell helplessly to his sides.
"Someone's coming," she said. "Get down. Stay very still."
His instincts told him to rise up and protect her, to rescue Jenna and himself. So many times before, he'd defended the innocent, hefted his mighty sword of flame and smote the wrongdoers. He'd been Rafael, Avenging Angel.
Now he was human. His body would not obey his will.
"Get down," she said.
Gratefully, he sank to the earth, closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber.
"Don't move," she whispered.
Even as she spoke, Jenna knew her instruction was unnecessary. Rafe was out cold. He wasn't going anywhere. Their only hope for escape was to avoid notice.
Then, somehow, she'd rouse him, get him to a doctor. He needed medical attention.
Crouched beside him at the trunk of the elm tree, she was grateful for the lush shrubbery of the Montclair gardens. A prickly bush, thick with ripe chokecherries, hid them from view.
The cowboy she'd clunked must have awakened and alerted the others, because she could hear a search getting under way. Deep, strong voices shouted to each other. How many of them were there? The leaves rustled and the earth seemed to quiver beneath her feet as unseen men moved among the trees and bushes.
Peering through the branches, she recognized Danny, the Vincenzo brother who had been sent to help her with the animals at R.I.P. studios. He wore a camouflage jacket and crept stealthily through the greenery.
His presence made sense to her. In the organization of the Montclair estate, it seemed that each of the brothers had his own domain. Nick took care of the Montclair business. Frank was the gardener. Danny must be in charge of security.
Though Danny didn't appear to be armed, she assumed that he probably had a handgun somewhere on him. Her own pistol was inside her backpack-sized purse. Did she dare to lift the flap, reach inside and take it out? Would the movement attract his attention?
Danny's dark-eyed gaze scanned the stucco wall. For a moment, he appeared to stare directly at them.
She froze, not moving, not even breathing. Her own heartbeat resounded loudly in her ears.
Then he pivoted and moved away.
Jenna exhaled a sigh of relief. They were safe for the moment. If she could get Rafe onto his feet and moving, they might be able to escape.
When she tried to lift his head, he groaned.
It wasn't a loud sound, but the noise was enough. Danny was immediately alert. At a trot, he came toward them.
Before Jenna had a chance to retrieve her pistol, he yanked aside the bushes. "Say nothing," he ordered quietly.
"Are you going to help us?"
"Damn it, I said be quiet. Yes, I'll help."
He took two steps away from her and shouted, "Nothing over here."
"Why, Danny? Why would you help us?"
"Because you're trying to stop Hugh Montclair, and that's what I want." He motioned with the flat of his hand. "Stay down. I'll be right back."
Could she trust him? "What have you got against Hugh?"
"My brother, Frank, is dead."
Danny marched off through the trees, leaving her to absorb the shock of his words. Frank was dead. Frank, like Eddy, had fallen victim to the lethal virus. Despite the antidote and his apparent recovery, he had succumbed.
His death angered her. Earlier this afternoon, Frank had seemed to be on the road to recovery. He'd been hopeful. He'd given her a message for Sean Hill. How could this tragedy have happened?
Surely Frank's death was accidental. Hugh wouldn't have deliberately killed one of the sons of his great friend, Paolo Vincenzo. Therefore, it stood to reason that Hugh didn't have complete control over the virus. Was it possible that the disease could spread randomly?
If so, why had she been spared? Jenna wondered. She'd been with Eddy when he died. She'd held him in her arms. She'd wiped the sweat from his brow. Her close contact seemed to make her a number one candidate for the virus. Yet she didn't feel ill. No symptoms had appeared. Was she safe, or would she be the next to die?
Danny returned to her side. He stared down at Rafe. "What happened to him?"
"He was in a fight and got kicked in the head. He might have a concussion."
"How were you planning to get him out of here?"
"The same way I came in," she said. "Over the wall. I have a car parked down the road."
"Bring your car over here," Danny said. "I'll get him over the wall."
She hesitated, not wanting to leave Rafe in the care of this man whom she wasn't sure she could trust. But there was no alternative. By herself, Jenna wasn't strong enough to lift Rafe.
"Go ahead," Danny said. "If Hugh finds you here, there'll be hell to pay."
Boosted by adrenaline, she clambered up the tree and over the wall. She hit the ground running on the other side. Dodging through scrub oak and juniper, she raced across the hillside. An intuition warned her against using the road. There could be people watching, waiting for her.
Panting heavily, her lungs clogged with the moist air, she stumbled, tripped and rose again. Her legs felt stiff, but she kept a swift pace.
Finally, she reached the car. Amazingly, no one appeared to be watching.
Jenna leapt behind the steering wheel and ground the key in the ignition. She took off toward the estate, not knowing if she would find Danny helping Rafe to the car or if she was driving directly into an ambush.
She parked near the stucco wall and stepped out of the car. For a long, desperate moment she stood staring. Where were they? Had Danny failed? Was Rafe captured?
Then she saw them behind a juniper. Danny waved to her, and she ran toward them.
With Danny on one side and Jenna on the other, they managed to get Rafe to the car. When they leaned him against the passenger side, he stood erect. "I'm all right," he said. "It'll take a minute, but I'm going to be all right."
"Tell me about it." Danny glanced toward her and said, "When I tried to lift him, he woke up. Practically took my head off. That guy is plenty strong."
"Are you coming with us?"
"No, but I'll be in touch." He glanced back toward the stucco wall. "You'd better get moving."
"Danny." She touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry about your brother."
"Never should have happened." He swallowed hard. "Frank was a good man. Gentle. He didn't deserve to die."
"Was it the virus?"
"Hugh's freaking experiment," he said. "From death comes life. That's what he keeps saying, but all I see is death."
"The virus," Rafe said. "How is it transmitted?"
"I don't know anything about that scientific stuff."
"What happened…" Rafe paused to draw breath. "When Eddy came here, what happened?"
"We were out in the barn and he got bit by a pig. Geez, only an idiot could have let that happen. Hugh gave him a shot of antibiotics before he left."
"A shot," Rafe said. "What kind of shot?"
"It was antibiotics," Danny said impatiently. "I got the stuff from the first-aid kit myself. With all the wildlife on the property, we're prepared for anything. We've even got a rabies vaccine."
"But you're sure—" Rafe said "—that the shot didn't contain the virus."
"Damn sure. Eddy was a complete jerk when it came to handling animals, but his heart was in the right place. I didn't want him to get sick." Nervously, he looked over his shoulder. "I better get back."
On impulse, Jenna said, "Come with us, Danny. I know a place where we can be safe."
"Nobody is safe. Not until that bastard is stopped." He stepped away from the car. "I can't leave Nick here alone."
"Be careful," she said.
Rafe lifted his hand in a gesture of blessing. "Godspeed."
Inside the safe house, Rafe was able to walk on his own, carefully
placing one foot in front of the other. His vision had gone from hazy to acute—painfully so. Bright light hurt his eyes. In fact, the aching in his head seemed to have sharpened all his senses, causing the sound of his own feet walking on carpet to sound like an army on the march.
This must be what healing felt like. Gradually, his strength was returning. He paced through the kitchen to the front room and sank down on the leather sofa.
Jenna hovered nearby. "I still think you need a doctor."
"It's not going to happen. As far as I know, I'm mortal. However, I'm unwilling to submit to medical examination. Give me a chance to rest, I'll become an angel again, and my wounds will be gone."
"We'll see." She went to the kitchen and returned with a pint of bottled water. "Drink this."
"Why?"
"If you're not going to allow me to take you to the emergency room, at least let me play nurse. You drink water so you won't get dehydrated. I've noticed that when you're human, you don't drink enough water."
He took a sip. The cold liquid felt good inside his mouth. Dutifully, he swallowed again.
She returned to the kitchen, issuing another order as she left the room. "And you're also going to eat something."
"Yes, that would be good."
In his current debilitated state, he wasn't sure if he had enough energy to make the switch from imperfect human to angel. He needed to gather his power—every bit of strength and all the wisdom he had garnered through the centuries.
His adversary was strong. During his fight with the cowboy—a fight he should have won easily—Rafe had sensed the presence of the demon, a shadow creature. The cold fetid breath of evil had paralyzed his reflexes, distracted him, made him slow.
If he'd been in angel form, they would have battled head-to-head, and their clash would have shaken the heavens. The confrontation would have ended with either victory or eternal damnation. How Rafe longed for that fight!
For now, he was stuck as a human. Pathetic, really.
"Jenna? What should I do for the pain in my head?"
She emerged from the kitchen and stared at him. "Ever hear of aspirin?"
"Yes. But I've never taken any."