Midnight Crusader

by Nancy Gideon

  Naomi waited. How bad could it be? A boyfriend in prison?

  "It's Mel. He's getting on in years and is losing his hair. Sometimes he gets pretty grumpy, but mostly he's a real lover."

  "Mel?"

  "You know, as in Gibson.

  "You have a relationship with Mel Gibson?"

  Rita nearly choked on her cherry cola. “Don't I wish. Mel's my cat. I've got him boarded for now, poor baby. He's declawed and has had all his shots. He doesn't go out and kill birds. He prefers to watch them on Animal Planet. You aren't allergic or anything, are you?"

  Her look was so genuinely pleading, what could Naomi say?

  "I'll be expecting you and Mel tomorrow."

  After Rita returned to work and Naomi began the walk to the Amazon, she had time to consider her impulsive choice. A virtual stranger and her cat would soon be invading the privacy of her home. What did she know about Rita Davies other than what she'd seen and liked? And even envied a little bit.

  But then what could be worse than spending another night in a cold sweat, waking to her own demons in her own prison of solitude?

  Rita would bring life and noise and energy back into her silent, pastel existence. What could be wrong with that? Of all the risks she'd been afraid to take, what could be bad about this one?

  Unless she woke her new roommate while screaming like a mad woman.

  * * * *

  "Come in, Miss Bright."

  Naomi entered the office cautiously, wondering why he'd sent for her so early in the evening. Kaz Zanlos was a creature of habit, as easy to read as the face of a clock. With the advent of evening, he'd hold private meetings with his investors and staff. Her presence wasn't required until later in the night, allowing her time to pursue her own compulsion. But on this night, his call came almost immediately upon her arrival, and she had to question the reason for his break in routine.

  "Sit down, Miss Bright."

  Obediently, she took the chair angled before his big mahogany desk where he sat with the glitter of Las Vegas spread behind him. For an instant, she recalled another office, one with walls of glass, with another city as a backdrop, but the image flickered just out of reach and eluded her. She didn't try to retrieve it. That was another life. What did it matter?

  Zanlos stood and came around the massive desk to lean casually upon its edge. He was an elegant man. Naomi had always found him attractive in a sharp, inapproachable way. In his expensive silk suit and Italian leather loafers, he presented a picture of success and power. The darker elements of what he was roiled beneath the surface, always a part of his internal makeup, brought into keener focus by his altered state of being.

  He wasn't a good man.

  She's sensed that about him from the start, from the beginning of a work relationship that she could no longer remember. He involved himself, and by doing so, involved her, in things that crossed the boundaries of law, both man-made and unnatural. He walked confidently with danger, preferring its company when he could have made himself a fortune along legitimate lines. His associates came in big cars with bulletproof glass, flying in from either coast to check on their investment in the Amazon. He spoke with them behind closed doors, and she preferred not to know the content of their conversations.

  But it was Alexander Cross who concerned her the most. Cross, the unseen and unheard owner of the Amazon and holder of the purse strings. The man she'd never seen except in fleeting shadow.

  Perhaps so she could never identify him in a police line up.

  But even knowing what Zanlos was and what he was probably doing, Naomi's allegiance stood unwavering. Kaz Zanlos had saved her from madness by bringing her here, by giving her a job she loved and a purpose that carried her from day to day. And for that reason, she could never betray him.

  "Have I done something wrong, Mr. Zanlos?"

  He smiled tolerantly at her uneasiness. “Miss Bright, you never do anything wrong. That's why I value you so greatly. This is not about business."

  "Oh?"

  "I realize that your private life is none of my business, but it is still my concern. I am concerned about you, Miss Bright. Something has happened recently that has upset you and that, in turn, upsets me. Is it something I can help you with?"

  He'd brought her into his office to discuss her personal dysfunctions, Naomi realized in a surge of sudden panic. How could she answer? By telling him that her dalliances with insanity had returned and threatened to control her life? That she couldn't trust the reality of what she saw from one minute to the next?

  "I met a man,” she heard herself blurt out in response to his request. It wasn't what she'd planned to say, but it wasn't exactly a lie, either. He would detect a lie from her in an instant. Of all the confessions she could make, this one seemed the safest.

  "Oh? And who is this lucky fellow who distracts you from your work?"

  A flush of heat stole up into her pale cheeks, doing more to convince him than any words could have. “His name is Gabriel. He is one of the knights in the show at the Excalibur."

  "Ah, your knight in shining armor. And is he, Miss Bright?"

  "Is he what?"

  "Worthy of your affection?"

  She stared for a moment, not knowing how to answer. Then she admitted with a hush of embarrassment, “I don't know."

  Then the other shoe dropped. Hard.

  "But I do. This man, this Gabriel McGraw, he hasn't sought you out for the reason you suspect or perhaps hoped."

  The slap of his words took her unaware, stinging her upon impact then reminding her of her naïveté with their harsh, lingering burn.

  "What do you mean?” And she didn't want to hear his answer, to hear what she already knew ... that Gabriel, her guardian angel, wasn't interested in her at all but only in how he could use her to forward his own interests. A cold lump, hard as a fist, settled in her belly as she waited for Zanlos to destroy her illusions.

  "This man is no stranger to us, Miss Bright. You don't remember him but it's true."

  She believed him. She'd known there was something about Gabriel that went deeper than a chance meeting, something that suggested history and emotions she could no longer recall.

  Had they been lovers? Before she could think of how to phrase that delicate question, Zanlos continued his evisceration of her dreams.

  "Mr. McGraw is a policeman, Naomi. His only goal is to see me punished for a wrong perpetrated by my former partner. But since she is out of his reach, he's decided I will do. He thinks to use you to get close to me. He means to use you as an instrument to my ruin."

  "No."

  "I'm sorry, Naomi but it is the truth."

  "I meant, no, I would never betray you."

  And though there were tears in her heart and glistening in her eyes, she spoke with a candor he could not doubt.

  And he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

  "I will never see him again."

  There. It was over. She'd closed the door on the tantalizing threat of Gabriel McGraw. Part of her was relieved to put the stress and strain of emotions behind. But another whispered that knowing him could have led to wondrous things, things worth the agonies of doubt and indecision. Things she'd envied from afar in the lives of the others but was afraid to seek out for herself. Now, she didn't have to struggle with whether or not to take the risk. The decision was out of her hands. She'd numb her heart and accept it. Just as she numbed her mind to all the rest. But her staunch claim didn't please Zanlos as she'd thought it would.

  "No, Miss Bright, you will see him and often. You will let him get close to you and let him believe you'll get him closer to what he most desires."

  "And what is that?” Her words rasped from a soul wrung dry.

  "Revenge. A petty, self-serving revenge that will only harm the innocent, you included, Miss Bright. And that, I cannot allow."

  No. Don't ask me to do this. Don't ask me to betray this man. Don't ask me to abandon honor and self-respect in order to serve you.r />
  Even as she thought those things, the rebellion inside her was already dying.

  But I will serve. I will serve.

  Leadenly, she asked, “What do you want me to do?"

  * * * *

  It took Rita Davies less than a day to make herself completely at home in Naomi's cozy bungalow on the outskirts of the city, and her presence infiltrated every available surface. Her blender and power drink mixes crowded Naomi's colorful woven basket collection back against the ivy designed tiles, where they huddled together as if in alarm and insult. Already dishes filled the sink basin, stacked in a precarious pyramid with half-filled glasses, coffee cups and skillets that smelled of sautéed onion and green peppers. An open package of flour tortillas lay on the counter, drying out like a lizard in the heat of day. Various jackets, shirts and even a stray coral-colored lace bra redecorated Naomi's couch and chairs, and a row of unmatched footwear marched out from under the coffee table, interwoven with an assortment of socks and knee-highs.

  The light was on in the bathroom. As Naomi reached to turn it off, she grimaced at the sight of wet towels mounded on the floor and at the thick residue of herbal-scented bubbles still frothing in the tub. The water was dripping. Naomi tightened the faucet even as her features tightened. She tripped over a lone sandal as she stared in amazement at the assortment of products now commandeering her sink. Every fragrance-free, organically grown, environmentally safe beauty aide she could imagine and then some.

  Perhaps she'd acted too impulsively in opening her home to a stranger.

  A very messy stranger.

  She snapped off the light.

  She couldn't hear the music, only the relentless thump of the bass. Her eardrums winced at the merciless assault even before she tapped on the door to her newly occupied spare room. Occupied like France after the Germans marched through it.

  Because of its sunny eastern exposure, Naomi had used the room to showcase her collection of black and white photography. The contrasts came alive in the pure, unforgiving light, and she had spent many a morning unwinding with a cup of tea, admiring the plays of darks and whites. The simplicity relaxed her. But there was nothing relaxing about what Rita had done to her former retreat.

  The delicate wrought iron day bed frame was tipped up against the wall and out of the way. The mattress rested on the floor next to the heap of every article of clothing Rita owned ... other than those already strewn through other rooms of the house. A massive stereo system was stacked on the other side in the midst of a litter of CD jewel cases. Rita lay in the center of it all, headphones engulfing her reality as she bobbed in time to some aggressively clinical techno beat. She wore a purple sports bra and boy-cut briefs. Her toenails were painted to match.

  Spotting her, Rita wrenched off the headset. The harsh searing of a dance mix pounded out.

  "Hey, I didn't hear you come in."

  "I knocked,” Naomi murmured by way of apology.

  "I wouldn't have heard a wrecking ball if it was knocking.” She switched off the CD player and gazed up at her roommate with a naked honesty. “I can't thank you enough for taking me in like this. You're an amazing woman, Nomi. I've never met anyone as good hearted."

  Flushing at the effusive compliment, a part of her whispered cynically, “Or as soft headed."

  "I made you a no-yolk omelet and some wheat-free muffins. I thought you might be hungry when you got home."

  The thoughtfulness crushed her churlish sentiments of moments before beneath a regretful heel. Emotion at the unexpected gesture thickened in her throat.

  "You didn't have to do that, Rita."

  "I know, but Mel doesn't really appreciate my mother-henning. I told you I love the kitchen."

  The cooking part but obviously not the cleaning part.

  "Thanks,” she sighed. “I'm too tired to make anything for myself this morning."

  Without a trace of self-consciousness, Rita bounded up and into the kitchen in her underwear. Blushing for her, Naomi followed, hoping she wouldn't discover that her shameless guest vacuumed in the nude.

  If she vacuumed.

  While Rita buzzed about the small galley-type kitchen reheating the healthful offering, Naomi carried two plates to the table only to stop dead at the sight of the most mammoth cat she'd ever seen lying in a butterscotch lump right on the middle of her place mat. The animal regarded her with an indifferent blue-glass gaze before closing its eyes, obviously considering her not worth the worry.

  "That's Mel. Just give him a shove. He has no table manners."

  As Naomi reached out a tentative hand toward the yellow glob, Mel gave her a low rumble of warning. She jerked her hand back.

  "He's all right.” She decreed faintly and set the plates on two other place mats.

  You're damn right, all right, the cat seemed to say with a twitch of its tail.

  "How was your night?” Rita asked with an almost June Cleaverish cheerfulness.

  "Long,” Naomi admitted. “And over."

  "Like a bad date."

  And that reminded Naomi of her unpleasant purpose.

  "Speaking of dates, have you seen your friend Gabriel again?"

  "Not since he helped me move."

  Gabriel had been in her house? Alarm and a vicarious sense of excitement skittered through her.

  "He has a huge trunk in that old car of his, and I had a ton of junk in storage. I hope you don't mind."

  "No,” she croaked out, thinking of Gabriel McGraw in her private spaces “Of course not. We should have him over for dinner to thank him for being so kind to you and for rescuing me from that purse snatcher. Do you now how to get hold of him?"

  "Yeah, he gave me his cell number in case I needed anything."

  An unworthy pang of jealousy splintered into Naomi's thoughts. With what she planned, she had no business harboring possessive feelings. She shouldn't have any feelings about the matter one way or another. Freezing her emotions until no resonance of regret trembled, she smiled at Rita narrowly.

  "Find out when he's free. I have something I want to ask him."

  * * * *

  He was just using her.

  Naomi tossed from one side to the other in her restless search for escape in slumber. It eluded her.

  Using her, using her tangle of emotions, her vulnerability, her loneliness.

  An awful thought paralyzed her breathing.

  What if he'd arranged the purse snatching just so he could play the hero?

  There were no heroes. Hadn't she learned that lesson once before? When? When had she learned it?

  She'd known him before, before the blackness sucked her memory away.

  Flopping onto her back, she stared through the darkness toward the ceiling, as if trying to find some answer there. What had their relationship been? She should have asked Mr. Zanlos, but she'd been afraid, then, to hear the truth. Instinct told her they'd been close. Then why hadn't Gabriel mentioned a shared history when they'd met on the street, and later at Rita's room? Did he know about her collapse? Did he think to trade upon her lapse to rebuild what still simmered between them? She hugged herself, suddenly cold in the climate-controlled room.

  Had they slept together?

  A shudder rippled to her toes. His hands on her body, his hot breath upon her face. Sensation surged to supply the rest—not the erotic images she expected but rather panic, desperation, fear.

  Her gasp sounded raw and loud against the soothing hum of the air conditioner.

  With sleep out of her reach, Naomi rolled from her bed and padded into the bathroom. Under the rosy glow of the night light, she opened the medicine cabinet and was delayed for a moment by the sight of all Rita's vitamins and mineral supplements surrounding her own small bottle of relief.

  She shook two of the tablets into her palm and washed them down with a swallow of tasteless tap water. Zanlos wouldn't like her taking them, but she'd been so deprived of rest, she'd sought out help in a suburban clinic. Just to help her relax. Just to ease
her way into slumber.

  Just to keep the dreams at bay.

  And it worked.

  Sometimes.

  Returning to her room, she started to pull back the covers only to have the action halted half way. A low growl of protest told her the reason. Mel was plopped in the center of her bed and wasn't pleased with the idea of moving.

  "Scat,” Naomi hissed, but the beast simply reiterated his response.

  Out of patience, Naomi tugged on the covers and was rewarded by the seismic thud of the animal hitting the floor. She slid under the sheet as Mel waddled from the room in disgust.

  Sighing softly, Naomi closed her eyes, willing sleep to hurry. But even the drug couldn't overcome her anxieties immediately as long minutes ticked past.

  Get close to him, Zanlos had told her.

  Easy to accomplish, but how difficult to endure?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seven

  He'd stood in her little backyard Eden before, but this was the first time as guest rather than unseen observer.

  She'd made the small space into a desert oasis complete with palms, richly scented flowering shrubs and lighted koi pond. But what made it true paradise was the sight of her approaching with a frosted glass of ice tea. The lights from her patio doors shone through the gauzy dress she wore, illuminating the sleek line of her body and the graceful mechanics of her walk. He stood, mesmerized, he with the power to enchant, suddenly the helplessly enchanted.

  "I hope it's not too sweet."

  He took the cold glass. “I'm sure it's fine."

  Sweet was this moment so long desired.

  When Rita had told him of Naomi's request that they meet, his hopes soared. Time for the courtship to begin. But now that he was here, and with Rita conveniently absent, a strange undercurrent of tension threatened his expectations.

  Why had she invited him? He'd wanted the reason to be emotional interest, but Naomi's rigid movements and taut smile telegraphed some other motive. He scented her uneasiness, could hear it in her shallow respirations. At first, he'd thought it was fear but now...