A Cold Day in Hell

by Stella Cameron

  “You’ve never angled for anything from me, Eileen. I often wish you would.”

  She looked at her hands and blinked rapidly. He couldn’t know that she hadn’t had any practice asking for things from a man in her life.

  “What is it?” Angel said. “Why do you look…scared, if I say I’d like to do something for you? There would never be any strings attached.”

  “No! No, I would never think of that,” Eileen said. “I’m so unpolished. I never got all the finer points of interacting with people the way other girls did. I think I must have been the most unpopular girl in school. I’m so sorry if I insulted you.” She closed her mouth. Why did she babble like that? Well, she didn’t, except with Angel. And why was that?

  “Eileen,” he said, leaning closer. “If you weren’t the most popular girl in school, then every guy in the place was dumb. I never saw a woman more beautiful than you.”

  She grinned and immediately covered her face.

  Angel chuckled softly and ruffled her hair. “I’d like to tell you all the ways you’re beautiful but you’d kick me out of the van and never speak to me again.”

  “Why?” She frowned and slid her hands down enough to look at him.

  He gave her an evil look. “Don’t ask. Ahh, you can ask. I’d describe all your positive points, and they are many, and then you’d slap my face.”

  She punched his arm. “Get outa here, you soft soap. I’ve got to drive home.”

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Okay, enough joking around. It’s getting late.”

  “I can get my motorcycle in the back of the van. Then I’ll drive you home and ride back.”

  “You will not. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Don’t fib.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  He was very near to her. “I know,” he said. “Don’t you love it?”

  Eileen didn’t answer. What she felt wasn’t new, just a little rusty. It shortened her breath and she was aware of a very strong man who could make light of almost anything, but a man who was tough and whom she barely knew. What did she know about him really?

  “It won’t be any use arguing with me, Eileen. Besides, I’ve got your keys.” He pulled them from the ignition and rolled a little to put them into a pocket. “Let’s go in and have some coffee before you go home. This night has been hard on you.”

  “Please give me my keys. I just need to get back.”

  “No you don’t. Didn’t you hear Chuzah say he thought Aaron collapsed from shock? So if there was a gunshot, it missed him. That means we aren’t dealing with something to worry about—as long as we keep the boys out of the swamp after dark.”

  Eileen processed what he’d said. “Anybody can miss a shot, can’t they?”

  He looked straight ahead. Dim light caught in his eyes, and showed how his mouth turned down. “I should have known you were too smart to miss that slip. No, anyone can’t miss a shot. There are people who never miss.”

  She swallowed. “What kind of people?”

  He half-lowered his eyelids and she saw him bare his teeth. “The kind you’re never going to meet, thank God. Now, let’s get that coffee.”

  “No.”

  “Eileen.”

  Now he was trying the forceful male on her and she was through with that stuff. “I don’t take crap from any man.”

  He turned his head sharply toward her. Too much time passed for her to feel other than edgy. “Sorry,” he said finally. “You’re right. I got out of line there. Come on in and I’ll explain what I mean. I want you to accept one thing, though. Will you do that?”

  “If I can.”

  “Promise.”

  “Angel, I don’t know. You haven’t told me what you want me to accept.”

  He snorted. “I didn’t, did I? Trust that I can look after you and Aaron. Sonny already knows I can. I admit I had a moment earlier when I thought someone had gotten through the net, but I was wrong.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Do you believe I’ll look after you?”

  What was he asking her to agree to? He knew nothing about Chuck or the problems he could present. Was Angel telling her he intended to be more than a friend? She was a fool. He was offering to take care of her and Aaron.

  “Yes, Angel, I believe you will. It’s a good feeling. I never had that before, not that I’m such a slender-stemmed flower I have to be staked up all the time.”

  “You can stake me up any time, my flower.” He laughed and the laugh was full of fun. “Let’s go.”

  She had been inside the house before, a few months earlier when Aaron had first become fast friends with Sonny. At that time it resembled the set of a horror film with curtains of cobwebs festooned between sagging ceiling beams and rotting carpets on the floor. She remembered walking into a spider and feeling smug because she wasn’t afraid of it and had just brushed it aside.

  Those months had made a huge difference. Gone were the old rugs and the cobwebs, the damp wallboard and broken windows. They walked to the right, through the large hall, passed a central staircase leading up to a gallery and went into what must have been the grand salon. From what she saw, the place had a long way to go but Angel had spent a lot of time, and money, on his pet project.

  “What do you think?” Angel asked. He turned on the recessed lighting in the high ceilings. It shone softly down pale caramel walls. Refinished oak floors glowed. White canvas drops covered areas of the floor where decorating and building materials were stacked.

  The only furniture in the room was an oversized circular ottoman, antique; its heavy pink brocade upholstery and fringe shabby and torn in places.

  “It’s wonderful in here,” she said. “You’ve done so much. Congratulations.”

  He smiled and looked as she’d never seen him look before, carefree and boyish. “Take a seat on the ottoman, my lady. Or, let me see—you could always sit on the ottoman. I decided to keep it because it seems to fit in.”

  “Wait till it’s reupholstered,” she said. “It’ll be a knockout.”

  “You think?” He frowned.

  “I know. You’ve got great taste.”

  “So have you, Eileen. I like you in red.”

  She shrugged. “Thanks. It’s just an old sweat suit.”

  He looked her over from head to toe—rapidly. Not rapidly enough for Eileen to miss the sexual appreciation in his narrowed eyes.

  “I can’t put it off any longer,” he said. “I’ll have to show you the kitchen.”

  Rubbing her hands together as if in anticipation, she caught up with him and followed through a long corridor framed with open studs, to the kitchen at the end. The lights were on and she could see a lot of umber color.

  “Are you going to have a dining room?” she said.

  “Sort of.”

  “If it’s as far away from the kitchen as that salon is, you’ll never get a warm dish on the table.”

  Angel didn’t respond. He bent to straighten some loose boards just in front of the kitchen door and stepped inside.

  Eileen followed and hid a smile. “You’re enjoying this moment.” The kitchen was part of a great room with a huge, wooden-topped island delineating the two areas. Already Angel had an iron rack hung with pans immediately above the island, and a table and chairs stood in the as yet untouched—apart from newly sheet-rocked walls—dining and sitting room areas of the space.

  In a corner, where an uncurtained window wrapped around, stood an undecorated Christmas tree.

  Angel saw her looking at it and crossed the room to quickly push in a plug. A zillion tiny colored lights blossomed. “Voilà,” he said. “I haven’t got any ornaments for it, but I wanted Sonny to have a tree.”

  From the way he looked at the lighted tree, Eileen decided Angel wanted it for himself, too.

  “Now coffee,” Angel said. He returned to the kitchen and pulled forward a stainless steel coffeemaker on a stone-topped counter. The appliance
s were all stainless. The stove was gas, an Aga, and all business.

  “Would you mind if I just had something cold?” Eileen said. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “Sure. You want to go back to the other room?”

  “I’ll sit at the table.”

  The smell of fresh paint hung around and Eileen wrinkled her nose. She liked it, all clean and new. At the level of the high ceilings in the kitchen there were narrow plaster moldings of vegetables, fruit and loaves of bread in a lighter shade than the umber walls. She felt a twinge of envy. It would take time, but one day she’d be able to think about moving from the tiny house she’d shared with Chuck. At least with him gone, she and Aaron had enough space to spread out.

  Chuck was a subject she wanted out of her mind.

  Angel came around the island with a large glass of white wine in one hand and red in the other.

  She smiled up at him. “I had water in mind.”

  “Then you should have said so.” He put the white in front of her.

  “I thought you were going to tell me to take my pick,” Eileen said.

  “You prefer white.”

  “Mmm.”

  She sat at one end of the table. He pulled a chair close and dropped into it so that their legs touched under the table and their elbows touched on top. Eileen felt too aware of him but she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself by moving away.

  “This is nice,” he said and sighed. He drank from his glass and watched as she sipped from hers. She passed the tip of her tongue over her upper lip, caught him following with rapt concentration and felt herself turn the color of the crimson sweat suit.

  Eileen looked away. “Now you can tell me what you meant about feeling better because if someone shot at Aaron, they missed.”

  “I could. Why spoil a nice moment?”

  “For most men it takes a whole lot more than a drink at a kitchen table to…make…a nice…moment.” Careless chatter. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I was afraid you didn’t. Sonny is with me under unusual circumstances. He is here because he’s had difficulties, but they weren’t anything to do with him getting into trouble.”

  She frowned and moved the base of her glass back and forth. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. “Could I taste the red?” she said, buying time.

  Angel hesitated, then gave her his glass. She drank and made a face. “Cranberry juice. Ouch, that’s bitter after the wine.”

  “The wine’s dry,” he said, sounding defensive.

  “And you’re getting me drunk while you stay sober,” she said with mock annoyance.

  “I have to drive,” he pointed out.

  “Oh, boy, you are so holy,” she said.

  “Wanna bet?”

  Eileen whistled out a breath. “I think I’ll pass on that. What’s the deal with Sonny?”

  “I’ve told you most of it. He got caught up in something—none of his doing—something really dangerous. There was some possibility that bad types saw him where it would have been better for him not to be. If they did, they might well have decided to get rid of him. When he showed up tonight, that was my first thought, and I think it was his. But we were both wrong. Those guys don’t miss, and they don’t make mistakes like shooting the wrong person. They can’t afford to if they don’t want to end up on the wrong end of the next gun barrel.”

  After much too large a swallow of wine, a big enough mouthful to make her cough, Eileen collected herself and said, “You’re talking about the Mafia.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t talk like that anymore. The scene has changed.”

  “Who is we, Angel?”

  “Just people in the business.” He waved an airy hand. “You know I’ve been in various kinds of enforcement over the years.”

  “I thought you were out of all that now.”

  “I am.” His expression was so innocent, there was no way she believed much of what he said. “This is just something I had to do for an old friend.”

  “You’re not used to making up bedtime stories for soft women, are you?” she asked. “Or women you think are soft. Who is this old friend?”

  “Eileen. I’ve already told you far more than I have any right to say. I have rules I must live by. They’re for good reasons.”

  “You’re still involved. You said you weren’t, but you lied to me.”

  He got the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. Eileen made no attempt to stop him.

  “I didn’t lie. I’m not on active duty. I quit because I had other things I wanted to do. I came here to talk to Finn because he went through the same thing, changed his lifestyle pretty drastically. And now I’m his manager of operations. That’s not a lie.”

  “But you’re doing something that could bring gunmen after you.”

  He reached for her hand but she put it in her lap. “Don’t be like that,” he said.

  “Who is this friend? You don’t have to give me his name, just tell me what kind of person he is. What he’s mixed up in that makes him so dangerous to know.”

  Angel leaned against his chair, tipped it onto its back legs. “He’s not dangerous to anyone anymore. He’s dead.”

  She pressed a hand on the wooden tabletop and her mind raced. “I’m sorry. So, why do you—”

  “He was Sonny’s father.”

  “Oh, no. Your brother. Oh, Angel—”

  “Don’t. It’s okay. He was doing something the people he worked for didn’t like.” He looked at the ceiling. “They really didn’t like it.” He let the front legs of his chair slam to the floor and put his face closer to hers. “If you talk about any of this, someone could die. Do you understand?”

  She nodded and whispered, “Yes.” He looked so desolate. There was a mountain of bad stuff on his back. Loneliness and isolation were the only reasons he was telling her all of this.

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she told him.

  “Good. They shot him, emptied a Beretta submachine gun with a forty-round magazine into him.”

  Eileen held the wine with both hands and drank. “You know these things happen, but most of the time you can pretend they don’t. They thought Sonny saw this, but he didn’t? They may have figured that out by now and they’re leaving him alone.”

  “They could think that,” Angel said. “I hope they do. But he did see his father shot. He saw him die.”

  “Oh, God.” Eileen shuddered. “The good people shouldn’t come out last.”

  Angel didn’t answer and she caught his eye. She felt so cold. Knowledge you didn’t want could freeze you. “He wasn’t a good guy?”

  “I think we’ve said enough,” he told her without inflection.

  “Poor Sonny. I don’t know why he isn’t a worse mess. No wonder he acts so surly and bitter.”

  Again he was silent.

  She held his wrist on the table. “Thank you for being honest. It helps to know what’s going on…or could be.”

  “Not necessarily. If you weren’t involved, I’d never reveal any of this to you. But you are in a way and you need to be too scared to open your mouth about anything. You don’t know anything about Sonny, right?”

  “I understand.” Like this, he was scary. “I’ll do anything I can to help. And you’ll never have to wonder if I’ve said anything to anyone or if I might for some reason. Nothing could get it out of me.”

  “Good,” Angel said, looking at her hand on his arm, “because I can sense things, like when someone is wavering. I’d know if you were thinking about running your mouth off to someone.”

  “I never would. Angel?” Her heart thumped. “I really wouldn’t.”

  “Good. Because if I got that feeling, I’d have to kill you.”

  10

  No man’s eyes should look that cold.

  Eileen noticed the lines that flared from the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines? She pictured him squinting into the sun through dark glasses, a gun in his hand.

  “That was a j
oke,” he said. “A bad one.”

  Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t. She stood so quickly, her chair screeched on the wood floor. “Thanks for the wine.”

  “Eileen.” He got up, too, and she was aware of how big he was. Fear and intense excitement mounted her spine.

  “I’ve stayed too long,” she told him. “Aaron will wonder where I am.”

  Angel walked behind her and she held her ground with difficulty. “You never have to be afraid of me,” he said.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. I can smell it. Men like me have a particular relationship with fear.”

  And with danger…and violence.

  “I know you’ve had a hard life,” she said.

  “I chose it.” He didn’t even pretend to smile now. “Aaron isn’t worrying about where you are. Both of them know you’re with me.”

  She colored. “I shouldn’t be any longer.”

  “Why? Because they might think we’re doing more than driving to my place and sharing a drink, maybe?”

  Eileen laughed nervously. “No, of course not. I’m pretty tired. All the hocus-pocus in the swamp must have worn me out. I’m so grateful Aaron’s okay.”

  He moved again and this time he stood behind her right shoulder where she could almost, but not quite, see him. She could feel him, hear him breathing.

  Eileen stood straighter. She wished she wore high heels because they brought her closer to his height and she felt more powerful then. “Let me wash these glasses out for you.” She reached for them but Angel’s hand on the back of her neck immobilized her.

  “Forget the glasses. You’re scared and I don’t like that. Not when I’m the one you’re scared of.”

  “I’m not.”

  As long as she stayed with her back to him she would appear nervous. She faced him. His hand slid from her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm. He circled her wrist and stroked the tender inside skin there.

  The lightning climbed her back again, matched by the same feeling low in her belly, between her legs. Was she that kind of woman? The kind who got sexually excited by fear? She ran the fingers of her free hand across her brow and they came away damp.

  “It’s probably not a good idea to call voodoo hocus-pocus in these parts.”

  She raised her chin. “I’ve lived here all my life. I know to be careful what I say about those things in some circumstances. These aren’t those circumstances.”