It seemed that for once in her life, Fate or Providence or maybe even Nettie’s God had offered a way of escape. And she might find the answers she so desperately craved.
The woman returned, and Angel continued on, finding herself in a coach car with benches on each side. She looked for a place to sit, feeling like a forlorn sparrow teetering on the edge of a cramped nest of sleek ravens. All these people, many of whom appeared to be businessmen in three-piece dark suits, knew exactly who they were and where they were headed. They each wore a confident look of self-assurance that their travels would take them where they wanted to be. She knew where she wanted to go but wasn’t sure where her journey would end or what awaited her. A strange thought to flit through her mind while standing in an impossibly narrow aisle amid passengers seated in detached boredom. She found an empty aisle spot next to a gentleman who lay with his head back, his hat tipped over his face.
Now if the train would only get to the next stop before Deadly Enemy Number One went on the prowl and hunted her down.
“More coffee, Mr. Piccoli?”
“Excuse me?” Roland snapped from his musings. “Oh, coffee. No thanks.” Before the waiter could leave, he added, “The lady who was with me. Have you seen her?”
“Not for some time, sir. She took her luggage, so my guess is she’s getting off at the next stop.” He glanced out the window as the train slowed. “Which we’re coming to now.”
Roland tried to process the information that Angel had taken her luggage with her to the lavatory.
“If there’s nothing else, sir?”
“No, nothing. Thank you.” Once the waiter left, Roland turned his attention to the window, deep in thought. The muted light from a lamppost flooded the station platform coming into view.
He’d felt drawn to Angel since she opened the door of the cottage and he witnessed her commendable patience with her family members as she attempted several times to give him directions. Here on the train, he had witnessed her fire and spirit but something more, something hidden surfacing for moments at a time. She retained a simple childlike innocence, no matter how daring she might appear. A girl, barely a woman, who would stow away in the night to escape… what?
She had been stunned and unnerved to learn his identity. He was accustomed to such a reaction, and he couldn’t blame her for leaving his company. His family had amassed the worst of reputations. But still he wondered what had brought her to flee to this train in the first place, and he hoped for a second chance to ask.
The locomotive’s short whistle pierced his thoughts. The train slowed and stopped. Passengers disembarked. A familiar navy coat and brown hat caught his eye, the colors faded in the weak light of the station’s yellow bulb but leaving no doubt of who they belonged to. She darted a furtive glance over her shoulder, as if uncertain where to go. Roland doubted anyone was coming to meet her, doubted, in fact, that Danbury was her stop.
As he watched, she approached a porter and spoke with him. He pointed to his right, and she turned to look. Roland also looked, seeing nothing but unlit buildings leading to a dark road fringed with dense trees. Through them, hundreds of incandescent lights flickered in the distance, but no buildings stood in sight. She nodded, picked up her luggage, and moved in that direction. His attention suddenly fixed upon three boys, up to no good from the looks of them, who detached themselves from the station’s brick wall where they’d been casually leaning.
Roland jumped to his feet as the boys moved to follow Angel.
Angel slowed her nervous pace, not wishing to turn her ankle on loose pebbles that made up the lane traveling into the distance, farther than she could see in the dark. At some point it then twisted to the right and led to a lit-up fairground. To her immediate right, through a gap in the trees, a field offered a shortcut to get there in half the time, without fences or other obstacles to bar her way. Hoping no snakes or mice inhabited the area or, at the very least, were in a deep sleep far beneath the earth, she chose the shortest route.
Her heels partially sank in the soil but not so badly she couldn’t manage the walk. Halfway across, a rustling disturbed the grasses behind her. Worried that she had aroused some small nocturnal creature, she swung around in defense, clutching her luggage handles hard.
No vicious animal posed a threat, but three boys, the oldest at least three years her junior but almost as tall, closed in on her. The carnival lights lit up the taunting leers that marred their young faces.
“What do you want?” She backed up.
“The dame’s a looker, boys, but dumb as dirt,” the tall one said. “Whadda ya think we want, lady? Hand over your money and your jewelry.”
Dazed, she gaped at them, unable to grasp what they wanted.
“Well? Whatcha waitin’ for? Christmas?” he sneered.
“I—I haven’t got much. Two dollars and spare change.” At his menacing stare, she opened her purse and pulled out the bills. “See? B–b–but you can have it all. Here.” She offered it to them with a shaking hand. “Just p–please. Go away.”
He snatched up the money. “What about your jewelry?”
“I don’t own any jewelry.”
“All dames got some kinda jewels on ‘em, ‘specially those out so late at night. You want that we should show we’re serious?” He threw a sidelong glance to his two cohorts. “Come on, boys. Let’s show her how serious we can be.”
They moved forward as a group.
“Leave me alone!” Frantic, she swung her heaviest case in a sideways arc, the momentum compromising her balance. She barely managed not to fall. The hoodlums jumped a step back and spread out, stalking her a second time. She swung both pieces of luggage, swinging herself around, gratified when she heard a smack as one case hit the nearest ruffian.
“Now you asked for it,” he muttered, rubbing his bruised arm.
“I don’t think so.” A menacing baritone cut through the night.
Angel looked with shock behind her. She had been so intent on defending herself she hadn’t heard his approach.
“Give the lady back her dough, and you boys beat it.”
“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me? You?” The leader of the bullies swung around in defiance. The boy’s hand moved to his pocket. He pulled out a switchblade. “Maybe me and my pals here don’t wanna go till we’re good and ready. So who says we have to?”
Roland stood his ground, not looking the least bit daunted by the wicked blade that gleamed in the carnival lights. “I say.”
“And just who are you, givin’ out orders like you own the world? The president? The pope?” The lead hooligan snickered, and the other two joined him.
Roland’s answering smile was grim. “Name’s Piccoli. Roland Piccoli.” He paused for effect. The boys darted anxious glances at one another. “I’m not an important leader, like those you mentioned. But my family eats runts like you for breakfast.”
“H–h–how do we know you’re not lyin’ and are really one of the Piccoli mob?” the first boy stammered, though he tried to appear brave. “Them gangsters do their business in New York City.”
“It’s him, Johnny,” one of the boys argued nervously. “I seen his picture in the newspaper. It’s him, I tell ya!”
“Yes, it’s me.” Roland’s words were quiet and sinister, like a loaded gun aimed in their direction. “So I suggest you boys take my advice and scram. I don’t ever want to see your faces again.”
“No harm done, mister. We wasn’t gonna hurt her none.” The leader threw the money at Roland’s feet then looked at his friends. “Let’s get outta here.”
With mixed feelings, Angel watched the boys take off running. She worried she might now be in a more precarious situation, alone with a true gangster, and wondered if he carried a gun. She doubted a switchblade would be his weapon of choice. Warily she watched him pick up the money and turn his attention on her, the first time he’d looked at her since his stealthy arrival.
“I—I have to be going,” she said quickly.
“Thanks for stepping in once again. Good-bye.”
She turned but should have known he wouldn’t let her get away so easily.
“Don’t you want your money?”
She hesitated and moved to take it, but he continued holding it.
“What do you think you’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” Annoyance put a sharp bite to his words. “Are you screwy or a complete dingbat?”
“My reasons don’t concern you.”
“Maybe not. But surely you’ve got more brains in that doll-like head than to walk alone in an empty field at night. In a place you don’t even know!”
The reminder that his entire family were notorious criminals faded in the rise of her irritation.
“It’s really none of your business.” She walked away from him.
His steps followed. “I’m making it my business. If I hadn’t come along when I did, those gangster pretenders could have robbed you, or worse.”
“I was handling the situation.”
He snorted in cynical amusement. “Oh really? How? By boxing with your luggage?”
She whirled to face him and stumbled on uneven ground. He grabbed her arms, letting go the moment she was steady.
“You can hardly keep yourself upright in those crazy things.” With disdain he regarded her inadequate pumps. “This is nuts. You’re nuts. Why’d you run from the safety of the train into the dark of night and nowhere? My guess is Danbury wasn’t your original stop.”
“Again, not your business, Mr. Piccoli,” she seethed between her teeth. “I’m managing just fine.”
“No you’re not, and if you’d stop behaving like an ungrateful brat and take a good look around while you reflect on the past few minutes, you’d realize it, too.” His voice gentled. “Look, I’m not the threat here.” He reached for her case, taking it before she could argue, and stuffed the bills in her hand. “They’re scared off for now, but I don’t trust those boys to keep their distance. Let’s return to the road. With any luck, a car will drive by and we won’t have to walk all the way to the station. I promise I’ll leave you alone if you’ll just get back on a train and out of harm’s way.”
“I’m not going back.” She tried and failed to retrieve her case, blowing out a frustrated breath at his persistence. “I’m… looking for work. Like I told you.”
“Where?” He dryly scanned the vast area. “As a tiller of the field? Were you going to ask the squirrels to hire you?”
“Funny man.” She glared at him. “In case it’s missed your notice, there’s a carnival over there.”
“Yeah, so?” He regarded her in stunned disbelief. “You’re hoping to find work at the carnival? Wait a minute….” His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you say earlier that you’re visiting family? Next thing you’ll tell me, they run the fair.”
She fumed in silence at his mockery.
“So which is it, Miss Mornay? Out visiting family or looking to find work?”
“Both—not that it’s any of your concern. Now if you’ll please give me back my case.”
“Not a chance. I’m not letting you out of my sight, not till I know you’re safe.”
His words almost made her laugh with skepticism. Safe? In the company of a Piccoli?
“I’ll be all right.”
“What if they don’t hire you? What’ll you do then?”
She hadn’t thought beyond asking for work. Hadn’t even planned to look for work at the carnival, until his bullheadedness forced her into the excuse. But it wasn’t a bad idea. In fact it was perfect. She needed more than two dollars, and with any luck she could locate her mother.
“That’s what I thought.” He answered his own question. “You haven’t a clue what you’ll do. Obviously you don’t have more than that”—he nodded to the bills in her hand—“or you wouldn’t have stowed away in my car.”
Two long whistles shrilled through the night.
“You’ll miss your train.”
“I can take another.”
“But what about your things? You might lose your baggage!”
“The porter will take care of what little I brought till I send a wire telling them where to deliver it. My family owns an interest in the railroad.”
The news didn’t surprise her.
“You’re not getting rid of me so easily, Miss Mornay. Until I’m sure that you’re out of danger, I’m sticking beside you every step of the way. My conscience won’t allow otherwise.”
“ ‘Out of danger,’ he says,” she grumbled beneath her breath, resuming her walk. “How’d a girl get to be so lucky?” And how could he talk about a conscience? His kind had none.
“I beg your pardon? I didn’t hear you.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Since I can’t shake your company, may we please continue, Mr. Piccoli? I’d like the opportunity to speak with the manager before they close.”
“Of course, Miss Mornay.” His smile was just as phony. He inclined his head. “For tonight, I’m your obedient servant. Please, lead the way.”
She bit back a sharp retort. She was tired of arguing—her entire day had seemed composed of it—and if he truly meant her harm, he’d had ample opportunity to act before now. Even here, in a dark field with no one the wiser, he seemed to show nothing but consideration for her welfare.
Maybe, just maybe, she could be wrong about his motives in helping her.
Don’t fall for his smooth ways, logic warned.
Remembering the articles about his family, about him, she would indeed be foolish to think that a Piccoli entertained anything more than a selfish agenda. And she wouldn’t be duped again.
Roland had met plenty of dames by the time he’d turned twenty-three. Some smart, some dumb, a few falling a notch somewhere in between. But he had no idea what to make of this woman erroneously nicknamed Angel. Not that she wasn’t as pretty as an angel; she was a real looker. And she could probably be sweet and pleasant if she tried. But she hadn’t an ounce of sense in that sleek head of hers, and he felt more as if he’d taken on the role of her angel, her guardian angel.
He snorted at the preposterous thought of himself as an angel. Maybe a fallen one. She darted yet another wary and long-suffering glance his way, as if he were the chip on her shoulder.
He should just let her stumble her merry way through the field to the carnival, now that he’d diverted trouble for her a second time. But he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the rash woman to whatever other dangers might await her recklessness. She reminded him of his sister, Gabriella—all spit and fire and independence, with no thought of where her hasty decisions could land her and no notion or experience of what to do when she got there.
He glanced at Angel’s stiff profile. Perhaps he’d been too hard on her, calling her an ungrateful brat. He’d been relieved to spot her then alarmed to find her ringed in by a gang of street hoods, and he had allowed his exasperation with her to flame into ire once the danger had passed. His harsh words escaped before he thought twice; he didn’t know her well enough to form opinions of her character. And she had thanked him, however curtly. Beneath the phony confidence she tried hard to exert, she was clearly alone and afraid. Grimly he plodded through the field of wild grass beside her.
“If we return to the station,” he said again, “I’ll buy you a ticket to wherever you want to go on the next train out of there. Only drop this screwy idea of joining the carnival. No telling what trouble you might find in a place like that.”
“I appreciate the advice, but I’ve made up my mind.”
“I’ve heard bad stories—”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I’ve yet to see that,” he muttered beneath his breath.
“Listen!” She turned on her heel. “You don’t have to hang around. No one’s forcing you. By all means, go!”
“I already told you how I feel about leaving you out here all alone, so unless you’re coming back to the station with me, you’re stuck with my company, missy.”
“Sorry, folks. We’re closing for the night,” the man said as they stepped up to it.
In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) Page 4