Before The Fall

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “When I was closing the drapes, I saw one in front of the office.”

  Micah glanced through the rear window as though he could spot the vehicle. “The same bastards who tried to run you down at the strip mall this morning?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jaw clenched, he sped away as if he could leave impending trouble behind, making a couple of fast turns that got them on a dark road.

  Everything began clicking into place for Angela. She realized they’d been made back in Minnesota—the two men watching them from beneath the tree at the state

  park had known who they were. Is that where they’d picked up Micah’s license number? But how had they known where to pick up her trail?

  Who had known…?

  And why was Micah so reluctant to call in the authorities, considering the bad guys seemed to be playing for keeps? She had the weirdest feeling he wasn’t telling her everything, but Angela knew that, for once in her life, she had to trust someone other than herself.

  Chapter Ten

  When Wall was nothing more than a shimmer of light behind them, Angela asked, “Where are we headed?”

  “Where the bastards won’t find us.”

  Which looked to be straight for the vast Badlands.

  A chill shot through her as she faced moonlightsilvered behemoths of fossil-rich mudstone. Rising before them were jagged spires, buttes and towers, a vista so foreign they might be heading for another planet.

  And they weren’t on a paved road.

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then how do you know where you’re going?”

  Her words vibrated with each rut they crossed. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clacking together.

  “Instinct.”

  In other words, Angela decided, stomach churning, Micah didn’t have a clue.

  But he kept on as if he did, eventually finding another asphalt-covered road. Heavy silence stretched between them as they further invaded the lunar landscape. Mile after mile they traveled deeper into foreign territory, eerie and glowing silver-blue.

  Angela almost felt as if she were outside of herself—outside of the experience—as if she were watching a movie. Or having a dream.

  A bad dream.

  The culmination of a living nightmare.

  When Micah finally slowed, she thought he would admit he was lost, but he was purposely pulling off the paved road onto a dirt track that cut through a flat area with some growth. When they came to a wide clearing, he stopped the car and cut the engine. Before he turned them off, the headlights picked up the gleam of water at the bottom of a modest incline.

  Following his lead, she left the car and started toward the creek. “You wouldn’t have a map of this area?”

  “Not detailed. And not that it matters. I’m not planning on going anywhere until daybreak.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Suddenly her heel caught on the cracked earth and she teetered between falling and losing her modesty. Seeing her predicament, Micah caught her, his hands warm and steady on her arms. Now she was in danger of losing her focus. Of forgetting where she was. Who she was. She wanted in the worst way to be held. Sheltered.

  To forget she was a Dragonlady.

  To forget she was a fugitive from the law…

  “Turn around and let me fix that,” he coaxed. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed a hand?”

  “During which convenient part of the evening?” But turn she did, her heart beating faster as his fingertips found the hollow at her waist. “You don’t really plan on spending the night out here, do you?”

  “It’s as good a place as any,” he said, starting to zip the gown. “Suck in.”

  Though she pulled in her breath, she managed to protest, “A room with a bed would be as good a place as any.”

  He faltered, the zipper halfway up. “We don’t have one of those.”

  “We could find one.” Too aware of his hand in the middle of her back, his breath stirring her hair, she whispered, “Uh, the zipper…”

  “I don’t think we’ll find too many on Indian land.”

  Trying to break the tension with humor, she asked, “Zippers? Uh, what do you mean by Indian land?”

  “Motels, not zippers.” Micah completed the task. “And if we’re not on the Pine Ridge Reservation yet, we’re headed in that direction.” He turned her around and brushed his fingers over what was left of the sleeves. “I think.”

  “Oh.”

  They stared at each other until Angela wondered if he wasn’t going to do something about the high-wire tension building between them. Moonlight and shadow played over his battered features. He appeared intense. Hungry, though not for food. Ready to take what she was willing to give.

  Angela could hardly believe herself. Could hardly believe what she was considering. She wanted to give more to a man she’d known for only two days than she had to the one she’d been seeing for months.

  The reminder of Douglas broke the connection. Once she lowered her eyes, Micah turned away. Hunkering down, he sliced both hands into the creek and wet his face. She could hardly miss his sharp intake of breath.

  “Micah?” Concerned, she sank down next to him, reached out and cupped his chin. “My, you do look wretched.”

  “Thanks to you,” he reminded her.

  “Let me help you now.”

  Ripping a hunk of material from the front of her skirt, she dunked the cloth in the icy stream.

  “I don’t want to hear how this is going to hurt you more than it does me.”

  “Okay, then…how about ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger’?” she joked.

  From the way his muscles tensed when she gently blotted his face, she figured no one would ever compare her to Florence Nightingale. Her “Sorry” encompassed not only the hurt she was causing him now, but the fact that she’d put him in jeopardy in the first place.

  She started to pull her hand away.

  He caught her wrist.

  Again they stared at each other. A faint animal cry in the distance raised the hair on her arms.

  Or was it his touch?

  “I thought you always finished what you started,” he said, freeing her.

  Too aware of his close inspection, Angela lifted the lock of damp hair away from his forehead and, folding the cloth and dunking it back into the water, placed the makeshift cold pack over the discolored area.

  “Not too bad,” she said. “A few bruises. A split lip. Most of the blood came from the bastard’s nose. I think you’ll live.”

  “Thanks for the positive prognosis. Haven’t you ever heard the adage ‘Kiss it and make it better’?”

  Warmth flooded her. And an awkwardness Angela wasn’t used to. Her pulse threaded wildly.

  How could she resist the suggestion…or the challenge in his eyes?

  Removing the cloth, she brushed her lips across his temple, worked her way down below his eye and cheek, and nuzzled his split lip. Though it was already healing, the cut tasted salty. His breath spilled across her mouth. Certain that he meant to kiss her, Angela sighed and closed her eyes….

  And could hardly believe it when Micah wrenched himself away from her.

  Eyes flashing open, she stared up at him. Seeming to have removed himself mentally from their brief connection, he was holding out his hand to her. Dazed, she placed her fingers along his palm and allowed him to grab her and help her up. Once she was on her feet, however, he immediately let go and turned away.

  “I have some things in the car to make the ground more comfortable. We’d better get some sleep if we’re going to be on our way by dawn.”

  The bounty hunter certainly knew how to kill a mood, Angela decided. Added to which, he had made her feel utterly foolish. Their situation was anything but romantic, true. The setting was downright gothic. Miffed anyway, she flounced after him, determined to get a peek into the Thunderbird’s mysterious cavity. But
even as she caught up to Micah, whose arms were already full, he slammed the trunk shut.

  Clenching her jaw, Angela determined to get a good night’s rest despite him.

  AN IDLE THREAT.

  Between the coyotes howling and the wind soughing through the canyon, the closest Angela got to sleep was a hazy in-between state. Though Micah had given her the only foam pad and one of two blankets, they hadn’t been enough to make her feel comfortable and secure. Certain that somewhere in the wild a snake had her name, she hadn’t been able to rid herself of the notion that it might sneak a night’s warmth by crawling under the covers with her.

  Her mind drifted off and on but refused to let go completely. Therefore, when Micah rose from his bedding that he’d set a few yards from hers, she was immediately aware of his movements.

  Not wanting him to know she wasn’t asleep, she kept her breath even and watched him through nearly closed lashes. He dived into the backpack he’d been using as a makeshift pillow and produced his cell phone, then moved away from their small camp area. He perched on a rock, his back to her.

  Who in the world could he be calling in the middle of the night?

  Wondering if he had a wife or girlfriend—a possibility she hadn’t considered before—Angela strained to hear his end of the conversation. At first she found it impossible to tune in. But gradually she was able to focus, to catch a few words here and there.

  “Only now I’m not so sure.”

  What wasn’t he sure about? she wondered. His relationship with this other woman?

  “I was afraid of that….”

  Afraid of what? She listened harder.

  “…have to know what’s up…”

  She continued to assume he was speaking to some possible love interest—undoubtedly the reason he’d rejected her—until she heard him say, “Called in a favor…”

  And then there was something about Chicago. Unease crept through her.

  “No one the wiser…” he was saying. The word trouble came, loud and clear. And a few seconds later “…what he really wanted.”

  Who? What who wanted?

  “Angela doesn’t know what’s going on….”

  Hearing her name was like a siren going off. Her pulse shot up like a geyser. All her senses went on alert. Wanting in the worst way to get up and demand an immediate explanation, she forced herself to lie there as if she were dead to the world.

  She caught “Hot Springs” and “eastern Wyoming” before he rose and turned her way. He mumbled something else, then apparently ended the conversation, because he lowered the cell phone. Though she shut her eyes completely, she felt his powerful gaze on her, piercing the dark as if he could see she was awake.

  Angela took a deep, audible breath and rolled over to her side as she might do if she really were sleeping. Eyes still closed, she sensed rather than saw Micah standing over her. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain he heard. A light sweat covered her despite the night’s chill.

  Only hours ago she’d been open to giving herself to Micah, and now he made her afraid. But of what exactly, she wasn’t certain. Angela decided it wasn’t the man himself she feared, so much as what he might be up to.

  She knew the exact moment he moved away back toward his bedding, and she chanced a peek through slitted lashes. He hovered over the backpack for a moment and pulled out something—a towel?—then moved off in the direction of the creek.

  Odd that he had the urge to bathe when he should be trying to get some sleep.

  It was all Angela could do to keep herself from jumping up and following him, pummeling him for some answers, but she restrained herself in order to get her hands on the cell phone. She knew exactly how to find out who he’d called. Waiting only until she heard the first splash of water, she threw off the cover and sneaked over to his blanket. He’d dropped the phone on top of the backpack. Her eyes already having adjusted to the bright moonlight, she switched it on and quickly hit the Redial function.

  Her pulse raced as she waited for a connection. Two rings and the receiver on the other end lifted. Not knowing what to expect, she held her breath…

  “Hello?”

  And nearly choked at the familiar voice.

  “Hello, is someone there?”

  Angela opened her mouth to answer, but for once in her life, words failed her.

  Hand shaking, she hung up without even thinking.

  Then her mind began racing.

  What in the world had Micah been doing talking to her mother?

  She fought the first thought that came to mind. No matter that she tried to forget the ridiculous notion, she couldn’t ease it away. What if Micah had called her mother demanding money for her safe return? That way he could go through with their agreement and not turn her in, while receiving the reward he’d set out to get in the first place.

  But she had offered to pay him to let her go, Angela thought, puzzled.

  Though he’d turned down the offer of money, he had shown interest in a more personal reward….

  This was ridiculous. She was guessing. That it had been her mother whom Micah had called both relieved and scared her. She ought to ask him directly what he was about. Only, she knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t trust him to tell her the truth.

  Trust.

  Always a shaky issue with her.

  Turning the cell phone back on, she punched in the number of someone who’d never given her reason to doubt him. When Douglas didn’t answer, she tried his cellular number.

  A moment later a sleep-filled voice murmured, “Yeah?”

  Relieved that he’d kept his cell phone nearby, she said, “Sorry I woke you.”

  “Angela!” Immediately sounding wide awake, he demanded, “Are you all right? Are you back in Las Vegas?”

  “Yes to the first, no to the second. I’m fine, despite the fact that I’m holed up in the middle of the Badlands, probably on some Indian reservation.” Knowing how sounds carried in the open, she was careful to keep her voice low. “Not that where matters.”

  “Of course it matters,” Douglas said indignantly. “What’s Kaminsky thinking?”

  If only she knew.

  Reminded of Micah’s proximity, she pricked up her ears. Continued splashing sounds assured her he was still busy at the creek, but who knew for how long. She needed to get down to business.

  “Douglas, have you heard anything about Frank Gonnella?”

  “I had the P.I. check him out like you asked. He called earlier. Word on the street is Gonnella’s homesick for the old days. I guess running a car dealership doesn’t satisfy his craving for excitement.”

  “Then he’s worked himself out of retirement?”

  “We don’t have anything concrete yet. One day’s not a lot of time. And at the moment Gonnella himself is out of town visiting his daughter in Wyoming.”

  “Wyoming…so close,” she murmured.

  Close enough to supervise the operation to shut her mouth, Angela decided, then remembered Micah saying something about eastern Wyoming to her mother.

  Did he know something she didn’t?

  “There’s also a rumor that not so long ago Gonnella held a financial interest in Picture Perfect,” Douglas was saying.

  The photography-video company that had gotten her into all this trouble!

  “Oh, my God, if that’s true…”

  Angela hoped it meant she could present the prosecution with a convincing case in her own defense.

  “I hope to get a confirmation by tomorrow.”

  “Douglas, you’re a wonder.”

  “Right,” he said wryly. “The same wonder who got you into the deal.”

  “Stop blaming yourself.”

  “How can I? Maybe if I could hold you in my arms…”

  Guilt shot through Angela. If only she had the same longing. Fool that she was, even now she longed for a different pair of arms.

  A far more muscular, sensual set of arms.

  Still, she said, “It’ll only be
another couple of days.”

  And nights. Caught by the whole heaven of stars overhead, the likes of which she’d never seen before, she stifled thoughts of spending those nights in Micah’s company.

  “What the hell’s wrong with that recovery agent?” Douglas yelled, not bothering to soft-soap his anger. “Why hasn’t he flown you back here?”

  “I get the feeling he doesn’t fly in anything but his Thunderbird.” She perked up her ears. No more splashing sounds. Thinking she’d better cut the conversation short, she asked, “Douglas, what about the other man I told you about? The guy named Wily?”

  “Hard to get a bead on that one, not even a last name. Your Wily’s a real mystery man. A mercenary who hires himself out to the highest bidder. And he seems to have disappeared off the streets of Las Vegas.”

  “Then he could be anywhere.”

  In a train station…or behind the wheel of a tan Jeep.

  “Angela, please let me talk to the authorities in your behalf. It’s time you stopped playing fast and loose with your life, don’t you think?”

  “You’re right. I know you are.”

  “But…?”

  Footsteps crunching along the dry earth told her Micah was on his way back to camp.

  “But I’ve got to go,” she whispered, not wanting Micah to nail her again. “I’ll find a way to call you tomorrow, probably from somewhere in Wyoming.”

  She clicked off in the midst of Douglas’s frustrated objections. Dropping the cell phone where she’d found it, she eased herself back to her own bedding and continued her pretense of being asleep.

  As much as she’d like to face Micah down about the call to her mother, now was neither the time nor the place to push the issue. She was too upset, too confused. Not at all in control the way she wanted to be.

  She would find her moment.

  Meanwhile, Douglas had renewed her hope…and had given her restless brain plenty to mull over while she lay awake all night.

  “ANGEL, WAKE UP.”

  Wrapped in a cottony haze, having barely fallen asleep, she muttered, “Go away.”

  “Exactly what I plan to do as soon as you get up. Do it slow. No sudden moves.”

  Her eyes flashed open. “What?”