Fallen: William
Tiffany Aaron
Published 2004
ISBN 1-59578-071-8
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2004, Tiffany Aaron. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://lsbooks.com
Email:
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Cover Art
by Fabiano Fabris
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Dedication
Chris, my dreams would be nightmares without you.
Bill and Kelly, you raised a wonderful son and I thank you for him.
Doug and Jamie, thank you for repopulating the world so we don’t have to.
Wendy and Shane, may your new life be filled with occasional storm clouds so you appreciate the sun more.
Char, again you managed to clean up my act. Thank you.
Sandy, thanks for those lunchtime walks and helping me think my way through an idea.
And finally to the man with the pipe and the trash bag I see every day while I go to work. Every day you break my heart and every day you make me smile with your determination.
CHAPTER ONE
William Bradford took a peek at the two cards the dealer gave him. Damn, the queen of hearts and the two of spades. Studying his opponents, he wondered if he should try to bluff his way into the pot or just cut his losses. Maybe if he checked, he would get the chance to catch something on the flop.
He knew he could cheat and read their minds to see what kind of hands they had. Shuddering, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. There was no way of telling what kind of slime lurked in their brains and just because he could read minds didn’t mean he should. There had to be a rule somewhere in the Enforcer code stating “Thou Shalt Not Cheat.” Sometimes being a fallen angel didn’t live up to the hype. One of the men raised the pot. He threw his hand in with disgust, pushed back his chair and climbed to his feet.
“I’m calling it a night, guys.” He smiled at the other men around the table as he gathered his chips.
“The night is still young. You usually don’t quit until the sun comes up,” one of them said, even though William knew they were thrilled to see him leave.
“I flew in early this morning and came right to the tables. I haven’t seen my own bed in a week and I’d like to reacquaint myself with it.” He nodded as he left.
Strolling through the Golden Phoenix casino in Reno, William wondered what kind of desperation drove these mortals to gamble away their money and their lives. What flaw in them made them long to bet everything on the roll of the dice or the turn of a card? He had seen that moment happen so many times—the moment when the addictive haze cleared and horrified guilt took its place for a while. He had seen grown men weeping on street corners with no money and no way to get home.
He used to give them money to help them out and then he realized they would go and gamble it away again. Now he did nothing for them. Maybe as an angel, although a fallen one, he should comfort the most beloved of God’s creatures. Mortals might be God’s favorites, but he hadn’t seen much proof of their willingness to accept comfort from Him.
Heading to the bar, he wished he could drown his thoughts; unfortunately whiskey didn’t have any effect on him. The bartender recognized him and had his drink ready for him by the time he sat down.
“Cards not falling your way, Mr. Bradford?” the bartender asked.
William laughed because except for that last hand, the cards always fell his way, which explained why he chose to make his living as a poker player. “I’m just tired. I’ve been busy for the last week and need to catch up on my sleep.”
Burt looked slightly surprised and he realized those two sentences were the most he had ever spoken to the man. He shrugged. He didn’t like talking to people. The only person he had ever felt the need to spend time with was Celeste, but now that she was attached to that arrogant mortal, Adam Montgomery, she didn’t need him anymore. Burt seemed to be a good listener, but then wasn’t being a good listener a requirement to be a bartender? Burt set another whiskey on the counter.
“I’m not done with my first,” William pointed out.
“It’s not for you.” Burt nodded towards the door.
He swung around and felt his lungs deflate as he took in the woman walking towards him.
She was petite with an hourglass figure he would love to get his hands on. Her amber hair sparked with burgundy highlights and was the color he had always envisioned hell fire would be. A black and white bandana kept her hair off a face meant to break a man’s heart. Her eyes were wide, reminding him of the richest Swiss chocolate. Her creamy skin was flushed and he could feel the anger rolling off her.
A green t-shirt filled with lush breasts he knew would be featured in his dreams bared her stomach and he caught a hint of glitter at her belly button. Jeans hugged her hips with loving accuracy and delicate toes painted a blood red peeked from black high-heeled sandals. As he ran his eyes down her legs, he imagined them wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Flinging herself down on the stool next to him, she grabbed the whiskey and slammed it back. Burt had another shot ready when she set the glass down.
“Slow up a little, Abby,” Burt said as the redhead slammed the second one back just as fast as the first.
“I swear if the pay wasn’t so good, I’d blow this fucking job.” She ignored William.
“Thompson do it again?”
“Yeah, he grabbed my ass. He can’t believe I’d turn him down. What is it about you gamblers?” Her brown eyes shot knives into William.
He didn’t think she was looking for an answer so he kept quiet. Obviously some guy had groped her and it pissed her off. Standing, he reached into his pocket to pay his tab.
Abby reached out and grabbed his arm although she wasn’t sure why she was talking to the man. His bloodshot blue eyes said he hadn’t slept for days. He had all the markings of a professional gambler and was just the kind of man she had always sworn never to get involved with. The hard muscle flexed under her hand as she met his glare.
“I asked you a question.”
Burt shook his head and moved down the bar. The stranger raised an eyebrow.
“You did? I thought you were stating a fact. I’m sure you weren’t looking for my opinion.” His voice came out smooth and lit a fire in her stomach.
It’s just the whiskey, she thought. “You’re a professional, always on the lookout for the next game. Do you know the meaning of the word no? Do you force your attentions on women?”
“Darling, no woman I’ve ever wanted has turned me down.” He gave her a slow bone-melting grin.
No, I’m sure they haven’t. Giving him the once over, Abby found she liked what she saw. By the way he towered over her he had to be around six-four. A wrinkled blue t-shirt covered bulging chest muscles. His faded jeans were sinfully tight, letting her know that it wasn’t just his muscles that were bulging. Scuffed cowboy boots completed the package.
Almost everything about his face shouted angelic perfection until she met his eyes. Even though they sparkled with blue fire because of her thorough inspection, their cynical darkness held a hint of pain. The man
beside her had been to hell and was still haunted by his visit there.
Angry at her thoughts, she jerked her hand away. “Damn arrogant men. Why do you think that if a woman works in a casino, she must be a whore?”
“I never thought they were.” His quiet statement cooled her anger.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lit into you like that. It wasn’t fair.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Just as all women aren’t whores, neither are all gamblers arrogant ass pinchers.” He threw a bill on the bar and left.
“Great job,” she muttered. “Insult the best looking guy you’ve seen in forever.” Burt came by to grab the money. She saw it was a hundred-dollar bill. “Big tipper tonight. He must have come out ahead.”
Burt laughed. “Bradford always comes out ahead, girl.”
“Bradford? You mean I managed to insult the infamous William Bradford?”
At his nod, she groaned. She was in for it now. If that jerk Thompson didn’t report her for slapping him, Bradford surely would for taking an attitude with him. There were few things people knew about William Bradford, but one was that he didn’t suffer fools and she had acted like an ass in front of him. Damn her red hair and loose mouth. Someday she might figure out how to keep them from destroying her life.
“This might be my last night here. Especially if Bradford is as pissed as he sounded.”
“Pissed? Bradford wasn’t pissed. You’re thinking too highly of yourself if you think that a man like that will remember or care about anything you’ve said to him.” He chuckled as he pocketed his tip.
CHAPTER TWO
William sighed as he flipped on his back for the fifth time. He had gotten home two hours ago certain he was going to fall asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. His bedroom was dark with no hint of the glaring Reno sun. His suitcase was flung into one corner and his clothes and boots balanced precariously on the edge of the trunk resting at the foot of his bed. The images flashing behind his eyelids were becoming twisted nightmares featuring the woman from the bar. He couldn’t take it anymore when an image of Abby lying in a pool of blood exploded in his mind.
“Damn, is this a fucking test or something?” He launched out of bed and grabbed his jeans on the way into the living room.
“You really do need to watch your mouth.” A melancholy voice came out of the darkness.
He didn’t turn to see the man join him. He knew Mika’il would take a seat on the couch he had placed in front of the fireplace and that the archangel would be dressed in a pair of tan khakis and a linen dress shirt. He knew all this because it was how Mika’il always dressed when he came to see him. He looked down at his bare chest and barely zipped jeans. Hell, who cared what the prick thought? He didn’t feel like impressing anyone tonight.
“What the hell do you want, Sir?” His voice was sarcastic with a hint of respect. It didn’t pay to piss off the Father’s top man.
“What seems to be your problem?” Mika’il leaned back and crossed his legs.
“Un-fucking-believable! I’m not even back a full day and you’re hounding me. I need to rest, Mika’il. You know what punishing a fallen does to me.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair leaving locks sticking out.
“Sit down. I don’t need you pacing.”
He flung himself into the nearest chair. He knew he was behaving like a petulant child, but for once, he would have liked to enjoy a night’s sleep instead of being tormented by the dreams Mika’il sent him. He reluctantly asked, “What do you want?”
“The woman you met tonight. You seemed quite intrigued by her.” Mika’il was going to take his own sweet time getting to the point and he knew there were times when the angel enjoyed pushing his buttons.
“Who wouldn’t be? With all that sparkling hair and shining spirit, she’s a man’s wet dream come to life.” He could feel himself growing hard just thinking about her.
“However true that may be, you aren’t a man, so get your head out of your crotch and listen to me. There’s something going on around this town and your wet dream is right in the middle of it. I haven’t been able to figure out what’s happening, but I know you’ll need to stick close to her.”
He grinned at the thought of sticking close to Abby.
“Not that close. She’s a means to an end, not your next fling.” Mika’il’s face showed his frustration.
He didn’t care how Mika’il felt. He was tired of doing the archangel’s bidding every time he turned around. He was plain tired of his life and the world around him. At times, he wondered whether there was even a reason for him to keeping going. Maybe his hell was the endless monotony of centuries of living a life that never changed without hope of redeeming himself.
“You knew the consequences when you chose to rebel. Quit wallowing in your self-pity and listen to me.” Frustration laced Mika’il’s voice.
He grinned. “I happen to enjoy wallowing in my self-pity. Why do you think I do it so often?”
“Sometimes I think you do it just to annoy me.”
He turned away to hide his smile. “I have so few things worth living for. Maybe annoying you makes my life a little easier to bear.”
“You should know by now that annoying me is not making your life easier. Sometimes it ends up making it harder. Now about Abby.”
“I’ll find a way to stick close to her. She’s a dealer at one of the casinos in the city. Do you think it might be fallens causing the trouble?”
“This whole city reeks of greed and corruption. I’m surprised you can’t smell it.”
“After living with it for so long, you become immune to it. Reno could be considered a smaller Sin City, so why wouldn’t the fallen find their way here?”
“You’re right. I think they might have something cooking around here but until I find out for sure I need you in place to protect her.”
“As far as I can tell, she can protect herself.” He remembered the anger burning in her eyes.
“Everyone can use someone else looking out for them.” Mika’il disappeared.
He checked the clock and sighed. He could try to sleep for a couple more hours or he could go and work out. The way he was feeling working out sounded like the best thing to do. He threw on his workout clothes and headed for the gym, trying to figure out how he could get close to Abby without her thinking he was stalking her.
* * * *
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, William ignored the come hither looks of the rail thin blonde running on the treadmill. He had spent an hour punishing his body and he still hadn’t come up with a good excuse to hang around Abby. The most obvious reason was that he was attracted to her and while he couldn’t deny it even to himself, somehow he knew that admitting the attraction to her would make her run screaming in the opposite direction. It would certainly be a blow to his ego if that happened, so he decided the only thing he could do was just hang close to her and hope to be there if and when something happened.
He was walking out of the gym when his cell phone rang. “Bradford,” he barked into the phone.
“Hello, Bradford, I’m Dominic LaFontaine. I believe you might have need of my services.”
“LaFontaine … from New Orleans, right?”
“Yes.” LaFontaine’s accent was pure Cajun and he found himself wondering how long the fallen had been in New Orleans. Most of the fallen angels didn’t have any kind of accent because they had moved around so much during the centuries.
“Mika’il drop in on you?”
“Yes.”
William smiled at the exasperation in the Cajun’s voice. “I know the feeling, my friend. Where are you at?”
“I just checked into Circus Circus. I’ll never know what possessed my secretary to book a room for me here.”
“Maybe she’s trying to tell you something. Meet me at Limerick’s Pub in the Fitzgerald casino in an hour.”
“See you then.” LaFontaine hung up.
He headed home to change and take
a shower. He didn’t know whether he should be angry or happy that Mika’il had sent reinforcements. He had never worked with the Cajun Enforcer before, but rumor had it the fallen had a rather laissez-faire outlook on the world of mortals. As long as his little corner of the world was free of those fallen that preyed on mortals, LaFontaine subscribed to the theory, “Let the good times roll.”
* * * *
He walked into Limerick’s an hour later. He didn’t have to ask for LaFontaine. The angel was standing amidst a crowd of women. He caught his attention and gestured to a table. LaFontaine nodded. The women groaned as he said good-bye to them. The Cajun sat down, his bourbon in his hand. Dominic LaFontaine owned one of the hottest nightclubs in New Orleans, The Fallen Angel. His tan linen slacks, red silk shirt and expensive Rolex watch screamed success.
“You are a mugger’s dream, LaFontaine.” William laughed.
“Do you really think anyone would be dumb enough to rob me?”
“There are mortals dumb enough to do anything, my friend, so it wouldn’t surprise me. Are you going to do some gambling while you’re in Reno?”
“Why throw money away needlessly? If I want to gamble I will open a new restaurant. What sort of trouble are you having here?”
He settled in and started telling LaFontaine the story.
Dominic leaned back. He rubbed his chin as he stared at William. “Why is Mika’il so worried about this woman?”
“I don’t know. I asked, but you know Mika’il. He won’t tell any of us anything. It’s like a game to him. He pops in, orders us around then leaves like nothing happened. He drives me crazy most of the time.”
“You don’t help matters when you treat him like he is worthless. He is the head of the Host of Heaven. He could destroy us and the Father wouldn’t do a thing to stop him.”
“I don’t respect much. It is obvious from the fact that I am here on earth rather than in Heaven.”
“That’s the truth, I’m afraid. We all must not have respected Him to let Lucifer talk us into a stupid stunt like that.”
“I’ll know better than to let anyone talk me into something like that again. What do we do to keep Abby safe?”
Fallen: William Page 1