Angel’s Forecast

by J. J. Massa

  “How’re you holding up, mon ange?” Deke turned to her, gathering her against him, giving the whimpering man a stern glare before lowering his head to kiss Angel quickly.

  “I’m all right, Deke,” Angel assured him, though her voice had a breathy quality to it. He was sure that all the upheaval and excitement had taken its toll on her. “I don’t think…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t think this guy is going to be much trouble,” she managed.

  “Mais, I think you’re right,” he agreed. “I’ll just call Remy and let him know we’re all right.”

  Deke reached for the kitchen wall-phone but Storm stopped him. “Maybe you wanna use a cell phone, no?” He grinned sheepishly. “Seems like all that lightning and thunder and such has some side effects.”

  At just that moment, the light in the kitchen, which had been flickering brighter and then more dully, popped and went out. Deke took his crutch and limped out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the partial stairway, finally stopping in his room, finding his cell phone on the nightstand.

  ———

  “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ Angel?” Storm murmured, urgency roughening his voice.

  He was right, spoken and unspoken, the idea that a dangerous criminal would be free to influence people, never leaving their family alone—it just wasn’t acceptable. Angel could do something about that. With Storm’s strength added to her own, she could cast a spell on this dangerous man.

  “You could change him into a newt…or maybe a skunk,” cackled the age-heavy voice of Esmé Deveau.

  “Jus’ think of some kind of harmless little critter,” Storm moved to her, pulling her away from the man crumpled on the floor.

  “What are you nutjobs planning? What’s going on here?” he shouted.

  “What you wanna be when you grow up, old son? A tree frog? A pet lizard?”

  Storm taunted him. “Either way, you’d better run.”

  “Go ahead,” Angel said softly. “Here’s your chance.”

  He didn’t need a second invitation. With no further ado, the large man scrambled to his feet and made for the window.

  ———

  Deke had dialed the first three numbers when shouts from the floor below had him stuffing the cell into his pocket as he whirled on his crutch and made for the room below.

  The sound of Storm’s voice yelling and ranting just made matters worse as far as Deke was concerned. If Storm was upset, things must be bad indeed.

  “What’s wrong?” He made his way back to the kitchen as fast as he could. “Why for you yellin’?”

  Angel was on the floor, propped against Storm, who was mumbling words of reassurance to her. Deke looked over at the door and the floor where her oversized attacker had been crumpled. Nothing remained of him except a puddle of blood.

  The window across from them had already been broken, now it showed a sstreak of blood across the sill. “He got away,” Storm spat, still trying to soothe Angel.

  “Did he hurt you, Ange?” Deke asked, using his crutch to carefully drop down in front of her.

  “Um, no,” she seemed breathless, agitated, Deke thought. “No, he just yelled and jumped out the window. I didn’t look but…he might have hurt himself.”

  Storm scrambled up, Deke slowly moving behind him. There was no body, hurt or otherwise, on the ground under the second story drop. Two police cars were pulling into the yard now, followed very closely by Remy’s department SUV and Rayne’s compact sedan, her grandmother in the seat next to her.

  When he looked back over his shoulder, Angel was sitting in a kitchen chair, looking blankly at the wall. Storm was busy manhandling the three cowering accomplices of the man who’d gotten away.

  “Ange?” Deke tried again, truly worried now.

  “Really, I’m fine,” she reassured him. “Honest. Go ahead and help Storm.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “How are you really, Hon?” Rayne asked, wrapping an arm around Angel’s waist as she guided her out of the house. “You know we’ll all need to go to the police station and all. There’s lots of paperwork.” Angel nodded, still feeling queasy. “Angel?”

  She looked into Rayne’s bright blue eyes, full of energy, as mesmerizing as starbursts. “Yes, ma’am,” she answered, her voice husky.

  “There’s going to be a long search for that fourth man. They’ll have to go all through the bayou. I believe they’ve already got the two that were attacking Deke at the start.” Angel nodded. “I just want you prepared—for the search.”

  Angel stood up straight, her face hardening. “I’m prepared,” she said severely.

  “Good girl,” Rayne praised her.

  They turned toward Storm and Esmé. “He’s kinda cute, Mamere,” Storm was saying, reaching out to touch the shivering dog the older woman was holding.

  The small animal, a black and white Pomeranian, Angel noted, growled and snapped at Storm. He was unusually muscular for such a small dog, the black hair on his tiny head swept back almost like a pompadour.

  “You hush!” Esmé scolded the high strung animal. “He’s just scared,” she crooned, stroking its tangled and matted fur.

  “Where’d you find him?” Storm asked, furrowing his brow and tapping the snarling dog lightly on the nose. Angel wondered that very same thing. Where had she found the dog, way out here in her front yard? It couldn’t be…

  “I cain’t believe you turned him into a Pomeranian dog,” Storm’s voice echoed in her head.

  “It was your fault, you know,” Angel growled back mentally. “You’re the one who said ‘pet’.”

  “I said ‘pet lizard’,” Storm growled.

  “He was over in the trees, limping around, whining,” Esmé explained smugly.

  “I’m sorry, Madame Deveau…” Angel spoke up. At her approach, the little dog went into a frenzy of growling and barking, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from terror.

  “Now, I said hush,” Esmé snapped sternly. “You’re jus’ fine, child. And he will be, too.” She stroked the quivering animal affectionately.

  “What’re you going to do with it, Grand-mère?” Rayne asked, reaching out to touch it. When it growled at her, Esmé wrapped a thin forefinger and thumb around its snout.

  “If he keeps this up, I’m gonna see how long he lasts as alligator bait,” she growled menacingly. The little dog whimpered and licked her hand nervously. “That’s better.” She stroked the animal with her free hand, accepting a handkerchief and some assistance from Storm to wrap the small upper leg. “Mais, I think Doc Santiny can treat this injury here, and he’s been a little lonely around his big old house.” She stroked the dog some more, a self-satisfied expression on her face. “I’m gonna call him Newt.”

  “Newt? Who’s a newt?” Deke demanded, joining the group. “What you got there, Vielle?”

  “Who you calling an old woman, Dekon Doucette?” Esmé growled, handing the tiny canine to Storm when it erupted into another volley of aggression at the site of Deke and Remy, who had come up behind him.

  “My apologies, Mamere,” he dropped his head, appearing ashamed. Angel wasn’t buying it. She knew they were teasing. “So, the dog?” he asked, his tone becoming serious, confused.

  “I think someone jus’ left it out here,” Esmé lamented, opening her arms for the small, furry creature. “Doesn’t he look a mess? He’s hurt, too. No tellin’ how long he’s been out here.”

  “Doesn’t appear underfed to me,” Deke looked it over, Storm holding it up for him before handing it back to Esmé. “Why you wanna call it ‘Newt’?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Oh, Dekon,” the old woman smiled, nearly causing Angel to choke. “You know what a fondness I have for newts.”

  “Rayne?” Remy asked from behind Deke. He looked severe, suspicious in his own right. “Is there anything you know that I ought to?”

  “Oh, no, Remy, no, of course not.” Rayne was the epitome of innocence and confusion. Angel only hoped that nobody asked he
r those particular questions.

  “Ange,” Deke’s arms came around her, his voice a feather light caress on her ear.

  “Yes, Deke?” she leaned back into him, glad of his support, strength. He’d need to be checked over, but he seemed none the worse for wear. There was nothing wrong with him now that time and rest wouldn’t cure.

  “That dog?” he asked, kissing her neck.

  She didn’t have to fight that hard against tensing up. It was hard to be tense with his lips on her neck making her melt against him.

  “What about the dog?” she purred, enjoying his attention, pulling his arms more tightly around her.

  “Isn’t that the kind of dog you said you wanted?” he murmured, nuzzling into her hair. “Expensive little bastards, ain’t they?”

  “I didn’t really get a good look at it,” she turned in his arms, focused on the conversation again and fighting to keep her voice from cracking. “I think you have to go to a breeder to get one…” she rested her head on his broad shoulder, praying with all her might that he’d find something else to talk about.

  No such luck. “A dog like that, somebody might be wanting it back, no?” He pulled back, looked her in the eye. “Mayhap, they’re lookin’ for him right this minute, you think?”

  Angel bit her lip, cast a glance over to where several young men had pushed flatboats into the water, guns drawn as they climbed in.

  “I’m sure someone’s looking,” was all she could manage.

  Deke looked at her for long minutes, inky blue eyes boring into hers. Finally, he moved a little, one arm slipped around her shoulders. “How ‘bout we stay at my old place and get my stuff together while we get a crew out here to fix the damages. Sound all right to you?”

  “Absolutely,” Angel agreed readily. She was in favor of anything that moved her further away from this conversation and any questions Deke might come up with.

  Questions she knew he really didn’t want answers to.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Can you believe all this, Angel?” Ashlynn was in a lather of excitement.

  She certainly looked beautiful in her white silk gown, softly fluted, backless with Alençon lace at the halter and trim. Her cinnamon wine colored hair had been pulled back loosely to frame her delicate face. She looked everything a bride could ask for.

  Angel’s dress was low-cut satin and silk over tiny lace netting to give the illusion of long sleeves. She and Ashlynn, along with Rayne and Esmé, had gone to New Orleans and ordered the gowns to be made special for them. Remy and Gabe grumbled outrageously about the costs. Each, as male head of their households, was responsible for the bride’s expenses, according to tradition.

  It was more the fun of the complaining than anything else, as far as Angel could see. They had all pitched in and nobody would be going hungry as a result of the double wedding.

  Angel had been thrilled to have Ashlynn as her maid of honor and to fill the same position in Ashlynn’s wedding. The only thing that had brought everyone up short had been the question of who would give Angel away.

  “Gotta be me,” Storm announced, eyes the color of new denim, snapping with mischief. “I’m the only one up to the callin’!”

  None of the other three men involved wanted to look too closely into that statement so it was settled. Storm would walk Angel up the isle, while Remy would escort Ashlynn. Two men of the cloth would stand at the front and speak the vows in perfect synchronicity. There had been a great deal of rehearsal to ensure all that.

  Doc Santiny had given Deke a clean bill of health with the expected caveats. He would be walking up the isle without benefit of crutches. The good doctor would be sitting right next to Esmé in the front pew, proudly witnessing events. It was obvious that he felt even closer to the older woman since she’d given him the gift of a companion, no matter how bad tempered the little creature was.

  “No,” Angel finally responded to her friend. “No, I really can’t believe this. So much has gone on…and now I’m getting married. We’re getting married.”

  Ashlynn laughed, giddy and nervous, hugging Angel carefully. “It almost seems like we,” pulling back a little, she waved her hand between the two of them, “are actually getting married, doesn’t it?”

  “We’ve sure been through a lot in these last weeks, haven’t we, shai?” Angel sighed, thinking back. “Our lives have always been intertwined. Now we’re family. I always knew we would be. And look at us, the loves of our lives, right under our noses!”

  “You did.” Ashlynn flashed her a misty smile. “You always said you had a forecast for us. I can’t believe you didn’t see your own marriage coming.”

  Angel couldn’t believe it either, but she kept that revelation to herself.

  “I’m so happy and proud for all of us,” Rayne entered the room. “I couldn’t have asked for better for either one of you girls.”

  It was all Angel could do to keep from bursting into tears, but she had to speak.

  “I’m so sorry my own mother couldn’t be here for this,” she sniffed, fighting for her composure. “Thank you for filling that empty place.”

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Ashlynn mock-growled tearfully. “We’ve all got to re-do our make-up!”

  “That’s what we need to invent a spell for,” Rayne dabbed at streaming eyes with a tissue. “I think we’ll all be in bad shape when Storm finally gets married!”

  ———

  Deke had grandly produced a limousine to meet them at the reception and whisk them off to New Orleans, less than an hour away, but one of her favorite places in the world. He’d surprised her with a suite at the exclusive Hotel Monteleone, in the center of the French Quarter. They would have a week to explore the city from top to bottom, seeing all the sights just the way Angel had dreamed of doing.

  Wasting no time, he had her out of her formal reception dress and naked in bed, wrapped in his strong arms. She didn’t bother keeping her hands to herself, tracing the line of his jaw with one finger, now his clavicle, then chest.

  “I had to wait a long time to get you in my life, mon Ange,” Deke murmured. “I want to always show you what a treasure I know I’ve found in you.”

  “I love you so much,” she whispered. “How can I ever show you?”

  “Mon Ange,” he murmured. “You already have. Every day in that hospital…all the time we’ve been together. It seems like so long and so short, too.”

  He captured her wandering hand and brought it to his lips. The gentle touch sent tingles down her spine, and she shifted to resume her exploration of his chest, replacing her fingers with her lips and tongue.

  Angel wanted to make up for a lifetime of waiting in a single night, and she didn't care that it was impossible. She was determined to try.

  His skin quivered under her slow assault. She straddled him and teased his nipple with her tongue. Her breasts pressed against him and he reached to take one in his hand, his thumb mirroring the actions of her tongue.

  His hands slid up her back and into her hair. He ran his fingers through it and brought a wavy lock of it to his lips.

  As her lips nibbled their way back up his throat she noticed where the majority of his attention seemed to be focused and smiled as an idea took form. She shuffled backwards to lower her head to his chest and deliberately tickled his skin with her hair.

  Quivering skin and a strangled cry of pleasure told her that she was affecting him just the way she wanted to. She moved lower, intent upon testing her new husband upon every inch of his tanned and muscular flesh.

  Taking great delight in the way his breath quickened and his skin shivered, she dragged her hair back and forth across first his chest and then his abdomen. When she reached his groin she took a lock between her fingers and trailed it with agonizing slowness up his twitching length. He groaned loudly.

  She wanted to take him in her mouth, but knew he'd be expecting that. Instead, she dragged her hair back up his abdomen and chest before her mouth descend
ed hungrily upon his nipple.

  She loved the way it felt when she pressed her tongue against it, and she loved the way it made him gasp and squirm when she drew wet circles around it. Lifting her head, she blew a stream of air over his damp skin and listened as he gave another strangled gasp.

  “Ange, you're going to give me a heart attack.” He chuckled and ran his hand down her back.

  She laughed against his chest. Her mouth and fingers continued their methodical teasing, lingering over the places that seemed to draw the strongest reaction.

  His caressing fingers were distracting her from her goal, and as he had done earlier, she moved herself out of his reach.

  She knelt beside him and watched his face as her fingers trailed up and down his thighs, advancing and retreating with unhurried movements.

  His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open slightly as he struggled for air.

  Bending forward, she replaced her fingers with her hair, sweeping it across his thighs, and then with a suddenness that left him groaning, she took his rigid length between her lips.

  She slid her lips down his shaft, tasting his salty satin flesh. After waiting for him all of these years, she would now hold back nothing. The musky taste of his sex pleased her more than she expected. So animal; so exciting. She drew back, creating suction, and circled her tongue rapidly.

  He cried out and she repeated the action, settling into a rhythm and taking great satisfaction in giving him this pleasure.

  Nothing existed outside this experience as she savored every detail. His uncontrolled sounds of passion; his soft skin moving with her actions; the quick pulse of a blood vessel against her lower lip; the scent of him filling her nostrils.

  He was so hard and yet so soft, the sensation was amazing, Angel loved it. She tickled the underside with her tongue, thrilled at his response. One of her hands had been absently stroking his thigh, and now it crept between his legs.

  “Ange,” he moaned. “Please...”