ROYAL'S CHILD

by Sharon Sala

She started to cry.

  The tears tied Royal in knots. That she was crying was more than he could bear. She was his Angel of the laughter and the quick, hot temper. Not these deep, choking sobs. Not this blind, stark fear. He rocked her where they stood.

  "It will be all right," he said. "I promise you, Angel, it will be all right."

  Roman strode into the room. "I called the FBI."

  Startled, she drew back from Royal's arms. "The FBI?"

  "We're talking about a possible serial killer who's strung victims in several states. That drops him under the jurisdiction of the federal government."

  Angel groaned. This was going from bad to worse.

  Royal looked at his brother. "Murder is out of my league," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to stay with us on this."

  Roman nodded, then gently patted Angel on the back of the head as he might have done Maddie.

  "You couldn't drive me away," he said. "Now I'd better call Holly and tell her I'm going to be late."

  Angel looked at Royal, wishing she could read his mind. He was her boss. He had a child to raise and a ranch to run. And because of her presence, something ugly had come into their world.

  "I think it would be better for you and for Maddie if I left the ranch. You both need someone to depend on. This could get ugly," she said.

  Royal tightened his hold on her, but his grip was far gentler than his voice. "Like hell." He looked at Roman and grinned. "And ugly doesn't scare me. I've been dealing with ugly brothers all my life."

  Roman arched an eyebrow. Angel laughed. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make them all feel better.

  A horn sounded. They jumped, and Royal strode to the window.

  "Great," he muttered. "Finally. The plumber."

  "What about the FBI?" Angel asked.

  "If they show up on time, we'll give 'em a hammer and put 'em to work," Royal said.

  Angel smiled. A few minutes earlier she wouldn't have believed it possible, but she was starting to relax. The shock of her discovery was settling in. The authorities had been notified. They would come. She would talk. And please God, they would catch the killer before anyone else died. It was simple … and it was out of her hands.

  Roman stepped into the hall to make some calls. After he checked in with Holly, there were some things he needed to set in motion. He doubted it had occurred to either of them just yet, but if word got out that there was a witness, her life wouldn't be worth a damn.

  * * *

  Angel stared at the face on the paper, then took a deep breath. It was him. From the thin, angular face and pale eyes to his unkempt beard and graying ponytail. She could almost hear the nasal intonation of his proposition.

  "What do you think, Miss Rojas?" the sketch artist asked.

  She looked at Deaton, the agent who'd taken her statement, then at the face the police sketch artist had made.

  "It's him."

  "You're sure?" Deaton asked.

  "Yes."

  Deaton nodded at the officer who'd done the drawing. "I want this face on the evening news and every broadcast afterward until he's caught." He looked at Angel. "Down the road, we'll need you to identify him. Are you willing?"

  She gave Royal a nervous glance. But when he winked at her and nodded, she knew it would be all right.

  "I'm willing to do anything to help stop the killings," she said softly.

  "Yes, ma'am. And if he turns out to be our man, you are one lucky lady to have escaped." Deaton's cool demeanor shifted noticeably as he remarked, "His victims did not die an easy death."

  She flinched.

  Royal saw her reaction. He'd had enough. He unfolded himself from a nearby chair. "You through with her now?"

  Deaton nodded. "We'll be in touch."

  Roman was leaning against the doorjamb, where he'd been standing and listening. "I can assume you have taken measures to insure that her identity is not revealed?"

  Royal looked at his brother and froze. Oh, God. I didn't think. The bland expression on Roman's face was for him a dead giveaway. Roman had tuned into something neither he nor Angel had considered. If the killer knew there was a witness…

  Deaton gave Roman a curious glance. "Of course."

  "Just checking," Roman said.

  Angel's back was to the men, but there was something in Roman's voice that made her turn.

  "What?" she asked.

  "There's nothing for you to worry about, Miss Rojas," Deaton added. "You've done your part. Now let us do ours."

  "Like hell," Royal said. "She's just put her life on the line. You better make damn sure she's protected in every way, or I'll take care of it myself."

  Deaton frowned. He had no patience with attitudes or loose ends. But there was something about Royal Justice that made him nervous. If ever there was a man less likely of following orders, he would be it.

  "We don't need any unnecessary heroics," Deaton growled.

  Royal wasn't about to be deterred by a man in a three-piece suit. He didn't budge an inch when Deaton pointed in his face.

  "Keeping her safe is necessary to me," he said shortly. "Besides, we take care of our own."

  "Speaking of own," Roman said, "I'd better head into Dallas, I promised Maddie and Holly I'd take them out to dinner tonight."

  Royal sighed. He'd hated sending Maddie into Dallas, but it had been necessary after the storm. He missed his daughter like crazy. It was the first time they'd been apart for this long, and while Maddie wasn't having any problems, he was feeling rejected.

  "Is she all right?" Royal asked.

  Roman rolled his eyes. "Does a bear—"

  "Never mind," Royal muttered, then grinned. "You can bring her home tomorrow. The house will be ready by then."

  Roman nodded, then gave Angel a lingering look before leaving.

  The last of the agents was getting into a car when Royal turned to Angel.

  "Feel like getting some air?"

  Air? After what he'd just said, she felt as if she were already flying. We take care of our own. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She did neither.

  "What about the plumber?" she asked.

  "He knows what to do. He'll leave when he's through."

  She nodded, then followed him out the door.

  Royal glanced toward the sky out of habit, checking the weather. It was hot, clear and cloudless—a good day to cut hay. Instead, he was dealing with federal agents and talking about serial killers, and he felt as if he'd walked into a nightmare.

  The chains on the porch swing creaked as Angel sat down. He turned, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze fixed upon her face. That beautiful face. Her lips were swollen from crying, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. She was in shock, and he knew just how she felt. Hell, he'd been in shock for all of three hours now—ever since he realized that he'd fallen in love.

  He kept staring at her, willing her to look up—to look at him. But she seemed bent on staring at the floor of the porch and the toes of her shoes. He sighed.

  Angel knew he was staring. Her skin felt hot—her breasts felt achy and heavy. But she was afraid to look up. Afraid if she did he would see her true feelings. And that couldn't happen. She was nothing to him but the woman who took care of his child. It wouldn't do to let her imagination run wild. Yes, he'd been more than supportive, and yes, he'd comforted her in a way she hadn't expected. And yes, Royal Justice was possessive about things that were his. She kept reminding herself it was nothing but duty and honor that had made him say what he had to Deaton.

  She worked for Royal. In a way, that made her part of the Justice family. He had given her plenty of grief, but he was a man who had honor. She couldn't deny him that. But love her? No way.

  His family ties and family roots were deep and true. She had none. When he picked her up on the side of the road, she had no destination in mind. This ranch, this man and his child had become the most important things in her life. The last thing she wanted to do was lose them. And t
he best way to keep that from happening was to stay in her place. It was bad enough that she'd brought all this danger into their lives. Bringing shame to herself would be the last straw.

  Royal wanted to shake her. She'd withdrawn into that damned expressionless shell again. He hated when that happened because he didn't know how to react. He could handle her fury. At least it was an emotion he recognized. Even her tears, as much as they tore at his heart, were easier to take than this wall of silence. He combed his fingers through his hair in sudden frustration and strode toward the swing.

  "Talk to me," he growled.

  She looked up. "About what?"

  His control snapped. He yanked her out of the swing and into his arms before she could argue.

  "About anything, damn it. You hide yourself from me behind those big brown eyes. You look at me, but you won't say what you're thinking."

  Angel twisted out of his hold, her voice shaking with frustration.

  "You know something, Royal? Not everyone has the luxury of saying what they think."

  "And why the hell not?" he growled. "I never let anyone's opinion stop me from voicing mine."

  She smiled bitterly. "And you're coming from a different place than most. You are your own boss. You don't have to answer to anyone to depend upon putting food in your mouth and a roof over your head."

  He groaned. "That isn't what I mean." Then he turned and walked to the edge of the porch. "I didn't mean to make you angry. I don't want to fight. I know you're scared. Sometimes talking helps."

  "Talking won't change what's happened," Angel said.

  "You were a witness, for God's sake," Royal said. "Not a participant in the crimes."

  Angel sighed and nodded. "You're right. I just can't get over feeling guilty about involving you in any way."

  He wanted to hold her and settled for the olive branch she'd offered instead.

  "So absolve your guilt and talk to me," he muttered.

  She managed a smile. "Can we walk?"

  He held out his hand.

  By the time they reached the barn where Dumpling and her kittens resided, Angel felt better. But Royal was impatient. He didn't feel better. In fact, he was feeling decidedly worse. The closer they were, the harder he got. It was uncomfortable as hell and just that little bit disconcerting to know that a woman had that kind of hold over his emotions. Finally, he'd had enough.

  "I'm still waiting," he said.

  Angel paused at the granary door, where the sacks of horse feed were kept, then poked her head inside.

  "Look. Flea Bit is sleeping with Dumpling and her babies."

  Royal took her by the arm. "Look at me," he said softly.

  Angel bit her lip and turned, meeting his gaze without blinking. It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

  Her skin was soft beneath his fingers, her mouth slightly parted and tilted upward as she looked at him.

  "I'm looking," she said.

  He exhaled softly. God, so am I. "What do you see?"

  She answered without hesitation. "My boss."

  "Is that all?" he asked.

  Her gaze slipped.

  "Don't do that," he said harshly, and laid the palm of his hand against the side of her face, making her look at him again.

  "Don't do what?" she asked.

  His voice lowered. "You know."

  Her pulse skipped a beat. For a long, silent moment, they stared into each other's faces, taking comfort in the familiarities. Twice she tried to look away, and each time Royal forced her back. His gaze raked her face, and she could feel the warmth of his breath upon her cheek. There was a muscle jerking at the side of his jaw and a promise in his eyes she was afraid to believe. She moaned beneath her breath and then started to shake.

  "What?" Royal whispered.

  Her answer came out on a sigh. "You know."

  He took a step closer. "I want to hear you say it."

  Her nostrils flared in sudden anger. "Why?" she cried. "Why do you need to see my weakness? You already know my shame."

  "There is no shame in loving, Angel, girl. Only in letting it go to waste."

  She started to cry, soft, silent tears that spilled out of her eyes and onto his fingers as they cupped her cheeks. He lowered his head until their foreheads were touching and their lips were only inches apart.

  "Angel Rojas, you're everything I ever wanted in a woman. You're beautiful and gentle and you have a temper that matches mine to a T. You make me laugh and you make me crazy. You may not be ready to hear this, but it has to be said. I'm in love with you, girl. And it's a damn good thing that your bedroom is going to be ready tonight because there's not enough willpower left in me to spend another night just listening to you sleep."

  Angel was stunned. Her ears were ringing from his words. She saw the truth in his eyes and still she couldn't bring herself to move.

  Royal groaned. Her silence was his undoing. "I won't ever say this again," he said shortly. "But I won't say I'm sorry, either."

  "Thank you, God," she whispered, and moments later was in his arms.

  Royal caught her to him. Burying his face against her neck and then brushing his mouth against the warmth of her skin, he groaned. It was just as he'd feared. She tasted as good as she smelled.

  "Ah, God, I want to make love to you."

  His words were nothing but an echo of her emotions.

  She leaned back in his arms until she could see his face and the fire blazing in his eyes.

  "Then do it," she said.

  His nostrils flared. It was his only response. Angel found herself in the hayloft, watching as Royal stripped off his clothes, making a bed on the hay for her to lie down. It was just as she'd dreamed. His body was beautiful in every way.

  He turned to her. She pulled her T-shirt over her head. Already aroused, he gritted his teeth against a flood of emotion.

  "Hurry," he growled.

  "Then help me," she whispered.

  She stood naked before him, waiting for the first steps of the dance to begin.

  He reached for her, palming her breasts, then rubbing her nipples until they were hard, aching buds. She swayed on her feet, then gave up the fight and reached out to him.

  He took down her hair, combing his fingers through the long, silken strands and letting it spill across her shoulders and upon her breasts. Her head lolled in silent ecstasy. Their gazes met and held.

  He lowered his head.

  Her breath caught. His mouth. God, his mouth. It was there on her lips, stealing her breath … and her heart. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She never knew when he pushed her down upon the bed he'd made in the hay. A pencil-thin ray of sunlight was shining through a small nail hole in the roof above them. After that, Royal was all she saw.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  The ranch had grown quiet. Everyone was gone. The soft mewling of Dumpling's kittens could be heard as the old cat left on a hunt. In the rafters above their heads, a roosting pigeon cooed softly to its mate circling the sky outside the barn. And in the loft, in the loose, sweet hay, a man and a woman were making slow, sweet love.

  Their bodies were slicked with sweat, their hearts hammering against their breasts. Locked into the age-old rhythm, Royal rocked within the cradle of her hips. Lost in the sounds of her soft gasps and small cries, he kept driving them both toward a spiraling heat.

  Angel moaned beneath her breath as a short burst of pleasure sent her arching toward his downward thrust. Good. So good. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying aloud and closed her eyes, concentrating on the feeling centered between her legs. Ah, God, she wanted more.

  He gave her what she wanted.

  And then it was coming.

  Blasting through her body like a heat wave. Nailing her where she lay and rendering her helpless to move. At that moment, willing to die from the joy, she felt it sweep through her system, leaving tiny aftershocks of the pleasure he'd given her to remember him by.


  "Oh, Royal."

  She felt empty and at the same time complete. She lifted her hands to him, sliding them up the sides of his face.

  He was shattered by her complete capitulation. Her touch was the trigger that detonated the last of his control.

  "Ah, God," he groaned. Thrusting in one last time, he let himself go, sliding deep inside her and spilling his seed … and his soul.

  Afterward, they lay in silence, absorbing the enormity of what they'd done. For Royal, there was no turning back. He did not give his love lightly, and today he'd given his all.

  As for Angel, she, too, had crossed a bridge. This wasn't the first time she'd shared her body with a man, but it was the first time she'd shared her heart. And while there was a part of her that feared this might not last, she was so much in love she was willing to take the risk.

  Royal brushed his mouth against the base of her throat, then raised himself until he could look at her.

  "Are you okay?"

  Angel cupped the sides of his face with her hands. "I may never be okay again."

  His heart skipped a beat. He knew just what she meant. And while he would still do what they'd done all over again, there was something he had to get said.

  "This isn't over."

  Her heart fluttered within her chest. "What isn't over?"

  "The lovemaking … and the love. Today was a beginning, not an interlude."

  She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He bit his lip and groaned when she pulled him to her.

  "I have something I need to say to you," she said.

  There was a gleam in her eye that was making him nervous.

  "This isn't over," she said softly.

  He started to grin. "What isn't over?"

  "You." She rolled, pinning him to the floor and straddling his hips. "Me." He was getting hard all over again, pushing against her. She shifted quickly, impaling herself. "This."

  Tilting her head and closing her eyes, she braced her hands against his chest and began her ride.

  Royal watched her body undulating upon him until he began to lose focus. He fisted his hands into the long lengths of her hair and held on for dear life until it was time to let go.

  * * *

  Tommy Boy Watson's belly felt as if it was splitting in two. Twice in the past hour he'd been forced to pull off the highway to seek relief from the gripe centered in his lower regions. He didn't know whether it was caused by the food he'd been eating or the stress he was in. It was difficult to stay focused when he would have sold his soul for a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of Tums.