As Kendra sang, the chatter in the room quieted and people turned to listen. Luke and Angel, his pretty, rounded wife, appeared at the bottom of the stairs and stood swaying together, arms around each other's waists.
When the song ended, Kendra bowed her head during the applause, feeling the heady rush that came with capturing her audience. After a glance at Ernie, she broke into a lively version of "Ain't Nobody's Business If I Do." The room began filling with diners from upstairs, some carrying drinks or coffee cups.
This time, the clapping threatened to loosen the bricks in the walls. She grinned and waited for the sound to die down before she signaled Ernie to begin her last selection. She had chosen to close with a raucous, high-energy rendition of "I Will Survive," a female power song written long after Billie Holiday's soulful laments.
At the end she bowed from the waist, laughing with intoxicated pleasure. Then she returned to her companions, refusing requests to sing more. "Time to go."
"I never knew you could sing!" Val exclaimed. "You're terrific."
"These days, I stick to gospel singing at church. Just as much fun, and it praises the Lord. Now let's scoot."
With Rob to cut a path, they made their way through the crowd. When they passed Luke, he took her hand. "Come back anytime, Kendra. Anytime at all."
"Thanks. Maybe I'll visit more often." Kendra gave Angel a long, warm hug. "I've missed you and the kids, sister friend."
"Then come back to us, girl," Angel said softly. "I know why you stayed away, but it's time to come home."
Blinking back tears, Kendra made her way up the steps and outside. The night seemed cool after the intimate warmth of the restaurant. Once they were outside, Val said, "Kendra, why aren't you singing professionally?"
"I'm good but not great." She shrugged, though a smile lingered. "I did a little club singing a long time ago, but it's no life if you have a child. That's why I only sing in the choir, or for myself."
"I've got the church, so I expect you to sing!"
Laughing, the three of them headed toward the car. Rob said, "Thanks for taking us there. Not only did we get some good leads, but that's a terrific place."
"Now that I've made my peace with Luke, I can go back again. I've missed Angel's cooking."
"I want to duplicate that cobbler," Val said. "Would Angel give me the recipe?"
"Not a chance!"
"I think there was a hint of cardamom." Brow furrowed, Val paused to get a pebble out of her sandal while the other two walked ahead. The real trick was having fresh, luscious peaches and using cornmeal for the cake part...
On the dimly lit street, she didn't even see the shape emerge from the alley until her shoulder bag was wrenched away. As she stumbled off balance, a hard shove between her shoulder blades knocked her to the pavement. From the comer of her eyes, she saw the flash of a blade.
She didn't even have the breath to scream.
Chapter 17
"Luke seems like a good guy," Rob said. "And useful, too. Thanks for taking us to meet him."
Kendra sighed, her long strides matching his. "Hearing about all those young black men who died—it breaks my heart. Most of them weren't born bad. Instead, they were raised badly, made bad choices, and died before they had time to grow up."
"It's tragic." Rob thought of how his own brother went wrong, and how Sha'wan Baker could have gone off the rails but hadn't. "Your son has done well, though, thanks to good parenting. There are plenty of other dedicated parents who do equally well. Kids have to be saved one at a time."
Kendra was about to reply when Val gave a strangled cry behind them. Rob spun around to see her sprawled on the pavement, a lanky form bolting away with her handbag.
Instinctively he went after the mugger. After a dozen swift strides, he managed to catch the long strap of the handbag. Unwilling to let it go, the mugger jerked to a stop, then swung around and slashed at his assailant with a wickedly gleaming blade. Rob dodged and caught his attacker's wrist, twisting it with crushing force.
Rob was forcing the thief to his knees when a moan from Val distracted him for an instant. The mugger seized the moment to abandon the handbag and escape. Rob considered pursuit, but Val was more important. He went to her, damning himself for letting his attention wander in a rough neighborhood.
Kendra helped Val sit up. To Rob she said, "You're good at that macho stuff."
"If I were better, it wouldn't have happened." Rob dropped to his knees beside the two women, heart pounding. "Are you all right, Val?"
She gave a shaky laugh as he put his arm behind her. "I think so. Took some skin off my hand when I hit the pavement, and that kid scared me out of a year's growth, but he didn't try to use his knife on me."
"Did you get a look at him?" Rob pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at Val's abraded left hand, which had taken the brunt of her fall. Thank God she hadn't been seriously injured. He thought about the mugger's knife and felt ill.
"It all happened so fast." Val's expression changed. "You know, the lighting here is similar to where Malloy was killed. I couldn't describe anything about the mugger except an impression that he was a tall, thin, young black man. I can't say anything about his face, or his age, or his clothes except that they were sort of loose and sort of dark. No wonder Brenda Harris had trouble making an identification when she saw the police lineup. Everything happened quickly, and she was badly rattled. I wouldn't be able to identify this vicious little toad, either."
Rob had to laugh. "Your brain never quits, does it?"
"Afraid not."
With Rob's help, Val got to her feet. He kept his arm around her. Despite her calm words, she was shaking violently.
"After this, I'm absolutely convinced that the eyewitnesses who fingered Daniel were lying." Val accepted her handbag from Kendra. "Rob, I want to be there for the Joe Cady interview, assuming he's still alive. We might not get another chance."
Kendra pulled out her cell phone. "I'll call nine-one- one.
"Don't bother. There's no longer an emergency," Val said dryly. "I didn't see enough to describe the mugger, I got my handbag back, and no one was hurt. It's just an unsuccessful purse snatching. I doubt the police could or would do much."
"It should be reported," Rob said. "Muggers don't strike only once."
With a sigh, Val agreed and Kendra called the police. A patrol car was there in minutes, but as Val had predicted, there wasn't much to be done. The policemen said there had been other purse snatchings in the area, and if they caught a suspect they would like Val to come and take a look. She promised to do that, but for now she wanted to go home. She stayed within the circle of Rob's arm the whole time.
It was only half a block to Kendra's car. When they reached it, Rob climbed in on the passenger side, then pulled Val into his lap. She cuddled against him gratefully.
Kendra locked the doors and pulled away from the curb. "On the surface, nothing happened tonight except that Val got shaken up. She didn't even lose her wallet. But confidence and trust and feeling safe have taken a hit for all of us."
Rob stroked Val's springy hair. "I shouldn't have let this happen," he said softly.
"Cut that out," Val said, her voice stronger. "You are not responsible for the world. I violated all the rules of safety by falling behind, not watching my surroundings, and generally looking like an easy mark. No wonder that kid came after me."
"It's a bitch that we live in a world where safety means always having to be alert, but that's the way it is," Kendra added.
Rob smiled wryly. "You are two tough chicks. Can't I wallow in my inadequacy for not defending you the way a macho man should?"
"No!" the women said in chorus.
"Fear and alertness are more natural than feeling secure," Val mused. "Ancestors who didn't dodge saber-toothed tigers became lunch. They were the quick or the dead."
All very articulate, but Val's small body still felt chilly in his embrace. "I like to think we're evolving beyond that."
Too damned slow.
* * *
Home was like safe, sheltering arms. Val sighed with relief when she stepped inside. As she bent to pet Lilith, who was stropping her ankles, Rob said, "I hope you don't want me to go, because I do not want to leave you alone tonight."
"I don't want that either." She turned gratefully into his arms. "One lousy little failed purse snatching, and I'm still shaking. What a wimp."
"Violence is like a stone in a pond that sends ripples in all directions." His comforting hand stroked down her back. "It cracks the world."
She guessed he had learned that too early from his stepfather. He'd dealt with violence as a child, in the Marines, with his brother, and in the work he did on Baltimore's meaner streets. Her life had been mercifully sheltered by comparison. She raised her head. "Would you like a glass of wine? I'm tempted to stress the air-conditioning by lighting a fire even though it's high summer. Fires are comforting."
"And they keep the saber-tooths away. Do you need help treating those brush burns on your hand?" When she shook her head, he continued, "Then I'll get the fire going while you take care of the wine and bandages."
Nerves unwinding, she went to the kitchen. None of her scrapes were deep, so she spread salve on the raw skin, covered it with a light dressing, and poured two glasses of wine. In the den, flames were starting to lick at the logs in the fireplace. Rob was crouched on one knee, watching, the flickering light playing across the planes of his face.
She realized that she no longer felt that he was an elusive chameleon. Whether he was a bearded cuddle bear or a chiseled executive, she was coming to understand him pretty well. A man of conscience and integrity, humor and guilt. A man who was complicated and very human.
Glad he was here, she turned the lights down and settled on the sofa, shoes off and one leg tucked under her. "This is nice. Thanks."
His gaze still on the fire, Rob said, "Would you like to live together?"
She choked on her wine. "Where did that come from?"
He glanced up, his expression somber. "It seems like the next logical step. My apartment is too small, so I could buy a house here in Homeland to prove that I'm not just after you for your real estate. There's a For Sale sign on a terrific looking place over on Springlake. It's another Tudor house and has a nice view of the ponds. You could move back here if you decided you couldn't stand living with me."
She stared at him. "You are definitely moving too fast for me."
"I'd love an excuse to buy a house. I had a condo in California because I didn't want to be responsible for anything except my business." He adjusted a log with the tongs, then uncoiled from his spot by the fire. "You're looking at me as if I'm nuts. Do you hate the idea of living together that much?"
She hesitated, trying the idea out for size and wondering why his suggestion made her want to bolt. "I've never lived with anyone before, though a couple of times in the midst of a hot and heavy affair, there was a sort of de facto cohabitation."
"How very legalistic."
Regretting her choice of words, she asked, "Isn't this a bit sudden?"
"Perhaps." He began pacing with short, taut steps. "I've never felt like this with anyone else, Val, and I've wanted to get it right. Not too quick, not too slow, but just right, like Goldilocks. Then that mugger went after you, and now I have this enormously primitive desire to stay close and defend you, sort of like a glorified Doberman pinscher."
"The cats wouldn't like that." Though she had imbibed feminism with her mother's milk, his desire to take care of her was appealing, not to mention sexy. "But I like the idea of having a protector. I've always been responsible for my own defense."
His expression eased. "Then I'll try for attack tiger. It's not just protectiveness, of course. I love being with you. I love the idea of spending all my available time with you. And... I want to give this relationship every chance."
Beginning to feel uneasy with his seriousness, she said, "It's a scientific fact that people who live together before marriage are more likely to divorce than those who don't, so if you're looking at the long-term, shacking up is probably not the way to go."
He looked startled. "Maybe in that case we should..."
She cut him off, afraid of what he might say. "It's too soon, Rob, and there's too much going on. If we moved in together, it would take time and thought and energy, all of which are in short supply now. Ditto on buying a house. How about we revisit the subject after... after Sept. ninth?" The date scheduled for Daniel Monroe's execution.
Rob hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. This is too important to treat casually."
"But in the meantime, dating is good. Becoming a couple is good." Wanting to move the conversation to more comfortable territory, she set her wine aside and rose from the sofa to corner him by the bookcase. "I think my subconscious had a hidden agenda when I decided a fire would be nice." She wrapped her arms around his neck and murmured, "The rug in front of the fireplace is very comfortable."
Gently he lifted her left hand and brushed his lips across the dressing that covered the abraded skin, his touch so light it caused no pain. "Are you sure you're up for this? You had a bad experience tonight."
"Nothing would make me feel better or safer than making love with you, Rob." Before he could suffer another attack of nobility, she rose on her toes and kissed him.
The tensions of the evening flared into passion, and in moments they were ripping at each other's clothing. Her lingering distress over the mugging vanished, seared away as she pulled him down on the fireplace rug.
She gasped as his mouth found her breast. She might not be sure about living together or marriage, but this sweet, fierce passion—this she was sure of.
* * *
Rob propped himself up on one elbow and studied his sleeping bedmate. Val's curving form was silvered by moonlight and her hair rioted darkly across the pillow. The sex, as always, had been phenomenal, maybe even better than usual because of the scariness of her being attacked.
But dammit, he wanted more than sex. There was more than sex between them, a lot more, but suggesting that made Val skittish. Since she didn't cotton to living together, he had been ready to propose marriage when she had jumped his bones. A most effective means of changing the subject.
Maybe she wasn't in love with him and never would be, or maybe she just needed time to fall in love and get used to the idea of marriage. But he was a computer geek with a lot of experience in solving problems, and Val was definitely a problem, albeit a beautiful, sexy problem who made him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his life.
He smiled wryly, remembering why he had spent so many years buried in computer development. It was a simpler world, where something either worked or it didn't. If it didn't, you fixed it. Problems had solutions, if you worked hard enough.
Maybe the same was true with romance, but he wouldn't bet on it. He whispered, "I love you, Valentine."
Perhaps it was his imagination, but it seemed that even in sleep, she pulled away a little.
* * *
Vale came awake suddenly. It was still dark, and a glance at the bedside clock showed that it was a little after 3 a.m. Rob slept beside her, one arm over her waist.
Lilith glided up from the foot of the bed to stand on Val's chest and give an almost inaudible mrowrr. To a cat, human movement meant it was breakfast time no matter what the clock said.
Knowing she was too tense and uneasy to return to sleep, Val slipped out from under Rob's arm, found her robe by touch, and descended to the kitchen, the cats circling and threatening to trip her. After dividing a can of cat tuna between them, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter as she regarded her pets broodingly.
The reason for her disquiet was obvious—her reaction to Rob's words had been straight out of the twilight zone. Why had she come unglued when he suggested they live together? And then cut him off when he seemed on the verge of prop
osing marriage? She should have cartwheeled with happiness. Instead, she had panicked and used sex to change the subject. Tacky, Valentine, very tacky.
Was she in love with him? Her heart tightened painfully. At sixteen, questions like that had been easy to answer. At her age, everything was more complicated. There were many kinds of love, and she wasn't ready to try to label her feelings for Rob.
But if in doubt, make a list. She sat down at the kitchen desk, pulled out one of her ubiquitous legal tablets, and wrote "Rob: Pro and Con" at the top.
Her felt-tipped pen raced as she listed the pros. Smart, funny, sexy, responsible, compassionate, liked her cats, reliable, wanted to get serious. She could have listed his virtues for pages, but stopped after about twenty, figuring that she'd hit the highlights.
Cons were harder to find. He had major emotional baggage, but he had survived the worst and was dealing with his issues honestly. Professionally he was rather adrift, but his dedication to helping those who were less fortunate touched her soul in a way his earlier commercial success didn't. He was a truly good man, and she found that incredibly, ravishingly, appealing.
She stared at the list, long on pros, short on cons, and came to an inescapable conclusion: The problem wasn't with Rob, but with her. Granted, the relationship was still fairly new, but considering that she was crazy about him, she shouldn't be this skittish. What was going on?
An old anecdote flickered through her mind, about a man who had spent years looking for the perfect woman. Eventually he'd found her, but to no avail because she was looking for the perfect man—and he wasn't it.
She had been looking for Mr. Right, and now that she had found him, she realized that she wasn't Ms. Right. For years she'd been telling herself that she hadn't found the right guy when the truth was she had chosen Mr. Wrongs so she wouldn't have to face what were obviously some major commitment issues. Rob had slid under her defenses almost by accident. Now that he was there, she didn't know what to do with him.
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