by Sharon Sala
The man shrugged and went back to his meal. Tommy Boy picked up his fork and cut off a big bite of chicken-fried steak. It was okay. He should have known it would be okay.
* * *
Three days after the storm, the house was almost back to normal. Angel had been relegated to the porch while new carpet was being laid. There were brand-new mattresses leaning against the south kitchen wall. Tonight she would sleep in her own room, and in her own bed.
Her eyes darkened as she gazed toward the barns and the men working there. Royal and two hired hands were still fixing fence. Even though they were a distance away, it was easy to tell which one was Royal. His shirt was bluer, and he was taller by half a head than the other two.
She sighed. Last night had been endless. They were both suffering the effects of close proximity. He'd fought the covers on his cot until two in the morning. She knew because she'd been awake. Finally, she had grabbed her pillow and rolled out of bed.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she said. "When I come back, I expect you to be in this bed and quiet. If you're not, I will put you there myself."
She dropped her pillow by the bathroom door and disappeared.
Royal yanked his pillow from the cot and threw it on his bed before falling onto it with a thump. The mattress gave only slightly, supporting his long length to perfection. He groaned in ecstasy and stretched. Covers were still on his feet, and he was not falling off of the sides.
The bathroom door opened. Angel picked up her pillow and headed for the cot.
Royal heard her straightening the covers, then heard the slight creak of wood as the cot gave to her weight. Guilt hit him. He sighed.
"Uh, Angel."
"Go to sleep," she said shortly.
He rolled on his side, bunched the pillow beneath his neck just right and did as she'd ordered.
And they'd finally slept.
Angel smiled, remembering what she'd found on the kitchen table this morning.
The note was still in her pocket. The flower, a lone purple iris that had miraculously escaped the storm, was in a vase and sitting in the kitchen window. She touched her shirt pocket, hearing the crackle of paper beneath her fingertips, then looked toward Royal, who was almost a quarter of a mile away.
You were aptly named.
A film of tears suddenly blurred her vision as she looked away. She kept reminding herself not to make more of the note than it really meant. So he thought she was an angel. No big deal. It was a word often used lightly. But there was the flower. Society today kept advocating men to say it with flowers, and he had. Exactly what had he been trying to say?
The phone rang. She ran into the kitchen to answer. To her delight, it was Maddie, wanting to know if her room was fixed and if her kittens had all been fed.
And so the morning passed. As she prepared the noon meal, her gaze kept straying to the delicate petals on the purple iris. It had survived so much, and yet there had so much beauty yet to give.
It hit her then, with a paring knife in one hand and a tomato in the other, that people could be like that. That they could endure without breaking many times over, yet when it came time to give, those who had endured longest often gave the most.
I could be like that, Angel thought. If anyone wanted me as much as I wanted them, then I would give everything … if anyone cared.
* * *
Royal was at the kitchen sink washing his hands and Angel was putting the finishing touches on lunch when Roman walked in the back door.
"Come on in," Royal said dryly, aware that Roman always made himself at home.
"Thanks," Roman said, and winked at Angel, who was already setting another place at the table.
"How's Maddie?" Angel asked.
Roman grinned. "You talked to her this morning. She's in perpetual motion." Then he added, "What you don't know is since then she's been invited to a birthday party of some kid in the apartment across the hall." He glanced at his watch. "In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Holly should be in the middle of pizza with seven other kids and their parents. After that, someone said something about swimming."
Royal reached for a towel to dry his hands as he turned. "I don't think I packed her swimsuit."
Roman grinned. "I know. She and Holly have already been shopping."
"Lord," Royal muttered. "She won't be fit to live with by the time I get her back."
Angel interrupted. "Iced tea or coffee?" she asked.
"Tea," they both answered.
She started to get the glasses. Royal reached over her head and took them out of her hands.
"I'll do it," he said.
"But that's what you pay me to—"
Royal began putting ice in the glasses. "Something's burning," he said, ignoring her comments.
"Oh, great," Angel muttered, and grabbed a couple of pot holders.
Roman silently watched them in action. A slow grin began to spread on his face. It was like watching a mating ritual, but without any touch. He shook his head and sat at the place Angel had set for him. The way he figured, it was just a matter of time before one of them lost total control. And if he was a betting man, his money would be on his brother. He'd always been short on patience.
"Smells good," Royal said, as he set the tea-filled glasses at their places.
"Enchilada casserole," Angel announced as she transferred the hot dish from the oven to the table.
Royal stopped what he was doing and leaned over the food, giving it a long, testing sniff.
The gesture was so blatantly rude, Roman couldn't help but comment.
"For Pete's sake, Royal, Mom would have had your head for that. What are you doing?"
Royal sat and picked up his fork. "Just checking," he said.
Angel started to grin.
Royal gestured to Roman. "Guests first," he said, and watched as his brother dished a generous helping onto his plate.
"It's very hot," Angel warned him.
Roman nodded and picked up his fork. "I'm letting it cool."
Royal looked at Angel. "Will it?" he said.
"Will it what?" she asked.
"Cool?"
She threw back her head and laughed, and the sound filled the room and Royal's heart.
"I don't get it," Roman said.
"Habeneros," Royal said.
Roman's nostrils flared as he looked at his plate in dismay. He could eat Mexican with the best of them, but over the years, he'd learned that Habenero peppers should be measured in voltage, not weight.
"Oh, that kind of hot."
"For very big men, you two are certainly concerned with your poor little tongues."
Royal snorted, "Well," he persisted, "will it cool, or should I just dig the hole now to save you the trouble, and crawl in before I die?"
"Have we been in disagreement?" she asked.
"Well, no."
"Then you have nothing to worry about."
Satisfied that she had not booby-trapped his food, Royal took a generous portion of the casserole, then filled her plate, as well.
"Is that enough?" he asked.
Angel was suddenly embarrassed that she'd been so unprofessional with her boss.
"Yes, sir," she said.
He frowned. "Hell, we've just spent the better part of three nights together. Don't go all prim on me now."
Her mouth dropped, and Royal knew if looks could kill, someone would be planning his wake.
Angel was on her feet, her voice shaking with anger as she stared him in the face.
"Listen to me, your royal highness! How dare you insinuate that anything has been—"
Ignoring Roman's snort of laughter, Royal grabbed Angel by the hand before she could bolt.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I don't know why, but you bring out the absolute worst in me. I didn't mean to be so disrespectful. And I didn't mean that the way it sounded, I was just trying to say that I thought we'd gotten past all the formalities. Okay?"
Angel glared, first at Roman, who
was past being able to eat, and then at Royal, who looked as if he'd willingly shoot himself if someone would just hand him the gun.
She threw up her hands and sat, muttering in rapid Spanish. Royal looked nervous as he picked up his fork. He didn't know whether to be relieved that she was still here or nervous that this would be his last meal. He glared at Roman, who was still laughing.
"Oh, shut the hell up," he muttered, then gave Angel another nervous look. "What's she saying?" he asked.
Roman wiped the tears from his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "You don't want to know." He choked, then started laughing again. "Royal highness … Lord, that's a good one."
They ate in silence. Angel forked her food in angry jerks. Royal ate in nervous haste, and Roman snickered between bites. Royal noticed the time and got up to turn on the television.
"Weather report," he announced to no one in particular and poured himself some more tea.
But it wasn't weather that flashed on the screen. It was a picture of Darcy Petrie, late of Amarillo, and mother of two. After the first couple of sentences, they watched without speaking.
"Last seen with a man in a black late-model pickup truck. Darcy Petrie is survived by a four-year-old daughter and a two-year-old son. Authorities believe that her death is linked to the deaths of eight other women in four different states. If anyone has any information regarding the…"
"Oh, my God," Angel whispered, and stood with a jerk, spilling tea across the table and onto the floor. She kept seeing that bony face and those pale green eyes.
Roman grabbed a hand towel from the counter and began mopping it up, but Royal's attention was pinned on Angel. He reached for her a second too late. She slid to the floor in a slump.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
Angel came to in Royal's arms, but she couldn't remember what had put her there.
"What happened?" she asked, struggling to get up.
"Easy, now," he said gently. "You're all right. You just fainted."
A frown creased her forehead. "I've never fainted in my life."
"Except today," Royal said, and circled his thumb gently at a spot just above her ear. "You hit the floor pretty hard. Do you hurt? Are you sick?"
She winced at his touch. Her head was sore. Hurt, she supposed, when she'd fallen. Other than that, she didn't feel any different.
"I don't think so. I feel fine now. Please help me up."
"Fine does not faint," Royal said. "Lie still until you get your bearings." When she looked as if she might refuse, he added a small grin. "Please?"
It was too good an offer to ignore. Lifting a shaky hand to her forehead, Angel relaxed against the cradle of his elbow.
"This is so unlike me. I've never…" Memory hit. "Dear God … the man on TV."
Royal frowned. "Man? What man?"
Angel rolled off his lap and onto her feet. The abruptness of the motion made her sway unsteadily. Royal tried to pull her onto the sofa. She reached for his hand, trying to pull him up, instead.
"No, no, you don't understand. I think I saw him."
Royal glanced at Roman, who was coming into the room with a cold, wet cloth for her forehead.
"Saw who?" Roman asked. "What have I missed?"
"I don't know," Royal said. "Let her talk."
Angel was shaking as fear surfaced, reminding her how afraid she'd been and how certain she was that he'd been following her.
"In the kitchen when we were listening to that news bulletin—"
Roman interrupted. "Angel, honey, you're not making any sense. What news bulletin?"
But Royal remembered because he'd been thinking of Maddie, and that once upon a time, all the women who died had been someone's little girls.
"The murder victims in the interstate killings," he said.
Angel turned, her face alight with relief that someone was willing to listen.
"Yes," she cried. "That one." She pressed a shaky hand to the middle of her belly, making herself calm when she felt like screaming. "Oh, Royal, I could have been one of those victims. I saw him." She added, "At least I think it was him."
Royal undid himself from the sofa in slow, measured steps. Like a cat moving toward a cornered prey, he took her by the shoulders. "What the hell are you saying?"
Desperate that they believe her, she gave both men a beseeching look as she began to explain.
"When I was hitchhiking, before you and Maddie picked me up, a man at a truck stop offered me a ride." She blushed and looked away, suddenly ashamed to say it, although she had nothing to be ashamed about. "I think he thought I was a prostitute. He offered me money. When I turned him down, he got very angry."
The investigator in Roman began to take notice. Granted, her experience was frightening, but either there were huge gaps in her reasoning or she hadn't told them everything yet. He put a hand on Angel's shoulder. She jumped.
"Sorry," he said softly. He hated to push, but they needed to know everything. "Can I ask you some questions?"
Her chin was trembling as she nodded.
But it wasn't okay with Royal. Everything inside him was going haywire. He kept looking at her and trying to remember that he'd hired her to take care of his daughter and his home, not wring his heart into knots. But it didn't do any good. The longer he looked, the worse he felt. From the moment she'd hit the floor until he had her in his arms, he'd felt weightless. As if his world had suddenly come undone from its anchor. Only after he'd felt the steady beat of her pulse had he begun to relax. Her eyes were filled with tears and her lower lip kept trembling. It was more than he could stand.
"Come here, girl," he said softly, and wrapped her in his arms as he might have Maddie. "You're not in this alone."
His gentleness was her undoing. Silent tears slipped from her eyes, tracking the contours of her cheeks and then falling onto Royal's arms. Encircled within his embrace, her back against his chest, she felt capable of almost anything.
Roman gave her a long, steady look. "You okay?"
She took a deep breath. Bolstered by Royal's strength, she lifted her chin defiantly. "I am now."
He nodded. "Now then. This man, the one who tried to pick you up. Did he threaten or harm you in any way?"
Angel thought, slowly shaking her head. "No." Then she added, "But it was broad daylight and there were lots of people around the parking lot."
Roman frowned. "So what makes you think that he's the one who's been killing the women? There are lots of crazies in the world. What makes you think this is the same man?"
Her stomach knotted as she remembered the fear and panic.
"Because after I refused him, he followed me. Every time I got a new ride, he was there. When I stopped to eat, he would show up at the same café."
Royal flinched. "The sorry son of a—"
"Easy, brother," Roman said.
Royal clenched his jaw, swallowing a rage born of helplessness as he realized how close she'd come to dying. He thought of that woman's picture they'd flashed on the screen. He didn't even remember her face. Would he have noticed if it had been Angel's instead? He doubted it. He hadn't known she existed until she crawled into his truck, wide-eyed and nervous and soaked to the skin.
She stood within the shelter of his arms while her lifeblood flowed beneath his fingers, rapidly when she was frightened, more measured when she thought to take a breath and slow down. In a swift moment of revelation, he knew how spare his life would have been without her.
A false quiet descended upon him as his heart raged for revenge. As the eldest Justice, he'd been born to inherit what Anson Justice had started and what their father, Micah Justice, had continued to build. His values had been forged by men who believed in dying for what was right. He'd been raised with the knowledge that a Justice takes care of his own.
Granted, Angel was only the housekeeper, and technically that did put her under his concern. But she'd long ago become more than an employee. He just hadn't faced it
until now.
After more questions from Roman, an uneasy silence fell upon the room. In the face of what Angel had told them, there wasn't anything left to say.
Angel was pacing between the sofa and the door, trying to remember everything. Although it was hot and sunny outside, she felt cold.
Poor Darcy Petrie. Poor little kids. Their mother was dead. She stopped suddenly and turned, almost shouting as she remembered.
"His truck. I almost forgot to tell you about his truck."
"What about his truck?" Royal asked.
She was shaking all over, and Royal could tell that she was about to come undone. "It was a new one, and black. Shiny and black, just like they said on TV. And Royal, you know that day in the rain, the day you picked me up?"
Royal waited.
"He passed us while we were parked on the side of the road. That's why I agreed to go home with you. Right then, total strangers were more appealing than being on the highway with him."
Royal's fear for her grew. If he'd been a little bit later, they would never have met. That man would have gotten to her first.
"That does it for me," Roman said. "I'll be right back." He walked out of the room, leaving Royal and Angel alone.
She shuddered then moaned. "What if it's him? What if he's still out there looking for me?"
Royal held her, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her into a fierce embrace. Holding her close—but not close enough. His voice was full of anger, and Angel could feel the tension in his body.
"Look at me." He tilted her chin until their gazes were locked. "I won't let him hurt you."
She shuddered as his hand centered in the middle of her back. It was only a hand, but right then it felt like a shield between her and the world.
"I am so scared."
"So the hell am I," Royal said softly, and laid his cheek against the crown of her hair.
Slowly, her arms slid around his waist. His strength became her strength. The rhythm of his breathing her marker for survival. As long as he was with her, she would be safe. She kept seeing that woman's picture as it had flashed across the screen.
Darcy Petrie.
Mother of two.