“Thank you, very much,” Angel replied as she backed out of the dark passage.
“Good luck and um… be careful out there. Don’t cross on any red lights. They’ll get you for jaywalking around here.” He tossed her a wave and a smile as he returned to the strange carriage.
Angel’s boots scuffed along the strange, hard ground more solid than the hardened prairie. She followed his directions and wound up on a long, straight stretch of desolate road. Searching among the red-stone structures rising into the night sky, she came to a set of poles with blinking red, yellow, and green lights, and for a moment, stood mesmerized at how they seemed to change color for no reason. The small image of a person in the box attached to the pole appeared to be walking, and so stuffing her hands in the pockets of the coat, she pressed on with the directions given to her by Clive. She could not let fear stop her. After all, she’d once faced a gunslinger and ridden a horse to town to alert Sheriff Jake. Though he’d been injured in the scuffle, the gunman was able to get away on Sheriff Jake’s horse. At least no lives had been lost. The lessons learned, however, proved she had grit, and she would approach her current situation with the same tenacity.
There had to be a logical explanation for what had happened to her. Perhaps she’d simply fallen and this was a grand dream she’d soon awaken from. The crisp, cold night air whipped her hair. As she scanned the streets, nothing at all looked familiar. The hard, black road wound between tall buildings for miles it seemed in either direction. She was keenly aware of how alone she was on the street when she came upon another oddly-shaped carriage pulled to a halt at the side of the road. Curious, she paused to study it, taking note of the strange wheels, so unlike the wooden variety of the wagons in Deadwater.
“May I help you?”
A brusque voice startled her, and she stepped back, distancing herself from the stranger. He wore a close-fitting cap pulled down over his ears, making it impossible to know the length of his hair. His clothes resembled a farmer’s overalls, only heavier and bulkier than the cloth she’d seen. And his boots were not the square-toed boots of a cowboy, but rounded, with thick soles. His attire, though odd, did not unnerve her as much as the color of his piercing blue eyes. Her heart faltered as she struggled to hold his steady gaze. His eyes appeared to stare into her soul. She straightened her shoulders in an attempt to look more confident than she felt. “I’m looking for the Magnolia.”
“The Mag—” He hesitated. “Wait, you don’t mean the Sweet Magnolia?” He studied her intently. “You must be new in town, then?” He rubbed his gloves together, and she tried not to show her knees were shaking.
Chapter Two
Shado kept his eyes on her face, valiantly trying to avert his attention from how her flimsy dress swirled around her shapely legs. To the untrained observer, her fresh-scrubbed face and shoulder-length blonde hair might be the epitome of innocence, but he saw what the average citizen didn’t. He assessed the expensive rabbit fur jacket she wore over her vintage Western wear dress and those boots— they were the real deal. She smelled expensive, like a kept woman. Her down-home country garb didn’t fool him for a minute. That rat Espinoza would do whatever he had to in order to stay under the radar. He held her gaze and circled around her, causing her to turn toward the surveillance camera in the van. “You’re kinda pretty.” He tossed the remark, adding a wicked grin for good measure. Acting was not his forte, but with any luck, he might distract her a bit.
Maybe get her to talk. “Where’d you say you were from?”
She looked at him with a cool expression, indicating she was onto his game and not in the mood to play along. With the response of a woman confident around strange men, she pinned him with a no-nonsense look. “Listen, mister, whatever you’re trying to sell tonight, I’m not interested in. I’m interested only in finding the Magnolia… except now it’s called the Imp….” She snapped her fingers as though trying to summon the name from thin air.
“The Imperial?” he answered and glanced toward the van.
She pointed her finger at him. “Yes, that’s the name.” Can you please tell me where it’s located? A very nice man told me it was across from a Christmas tree lot… whatever that is.” A friendly smile lit up her face, and Shado had to stumble through his thoughts to come up with a response.
“You know, I suppose to some people, it’s considered a house of ill-repute,” she leaned toward him and whispered. “I would have expected it to be located farther from town.”
Shado regarded her with mute surprise. She was, if nothing else, straightforward. He could play along and see how far this would go. He pointed to the building behind her, rising high in the star-laden Reno sky. “You’re a short walk from it, actually. Just across the street, right in the middle of town, where it’s always been.”
She followed his gaze and longing came over her face, not unlike when seeing an old friend. But in the next instant, her expression fell. She swallowed, her gaze fixed on the building, and then she brushed her cheek. Was she crying?
Shado tapped his earring and raised his voice. “There’s the Imperial. She’s a grand old dame. I hear Madam has only the finest women for her call girl service.”
She turned to study him with a curious expression. “There’s no need to yell.
My hearing is quite good. And pray tell, what is a call girl service?”
He chuckled. The little pigeon was a hoot. She had this county-bumpkin thing down to a finely tuned fiddle.
“Don’t piss off the dove,” a voice issued in his earpiece.
Shado regarded her with interest, searching for any sign she was a plant sent by Espinoza. “Madam Lee employs discreet women to entertain her clientele.”
She searched his face. “Not everything has changed, it appears,” she muttered softly as she glanced back at the Imperial. Her mood shifted with a friendly smile, but he detected a hint of sadness. “I must be going. Thank you, sir, for your kindness.”
“Tail her,” his earpiece urged.
Shado nodded, and as she walked away, took a moment to appreciate the gentle sway of her hips and the sassy way her dress flounced with every step. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s gait had enticed him. He mentally slapped himself from his musing. “Uh, Merry Christmas. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He sauntered behind, following her the few steps to the tree lot, and paused to watch her cross in the middle of the block without so much as a glance. Whatever her purpose, it was clear she was focused on getting to the Imperial.
The low rumbling roar of an engine caught his attention, and he looked up in time to see a sleek, dark-colored vehicle emerging from the wintery mist like a demon from Hell. The driver couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it.
Where the hell was a traffic cop when you needed one? His gaze shot to the woman blithely unaware she was about to become road kill.
Shado took off, head down in a race to see who would reach her first. He lunged, grabbing her around the waist, and yanked her body around. Holding her tight, he tried to protect her head as they both hit and rolled across the frigid asphalt. His head slammed against the curb, and he squeezed her close as the car whizzed past. The heat from its tires blew like a dragon’s breath against the side of his face.
“Jackson!” His boss’s voice screamed in Shado’s ear.
“I’m good,” he bellowed in response without thinking. He tried to hang onto the squirming woman trying to free herself. His cheek was on fire from sliding across the pavement.
“And what about my dress? It’s not like I have a trunk full of these.” The disgruntled woman pushed away from him and plopped down on the curb. She sighed as she held up the hem.
“But you’re not hurt.” Shado pulled himself literally out of the gutter. He was going to be sore for a week from this stunt. Hell, he’d saved her life, thank you very much. He sat down beside her and brushed off his coveralls, grateful for the heavyweight fabric, little good it did his cheek. He touch
ed it gingerly and winced.
“I’m fine.” She tossed him a disgruntled look and wiped the dirt from her hands.
He dropped his arms over his knees. “Maybe I should go in with you to make sure you’re all right.”
Her head came up, and she struggled to stand, pushing on his shoulder—the sore one—in the process. Shado clenched his teeth from the pain.
“I have no need for an escort, thank you.” She looked down the road where the car had sped clean out of sight. “What was that?” She dusted off her white rabbit jacket.
With any luck the camera in the van caught the license plate on the idiot driver’s car and Gleason had someone looking for the bastard. Shado ambled to his feet. He didn’t fault her for not knowing about cars, a lot of women didn’t recognize vehicle makes or models. “Mustang—’68 vintage,” he replied, rolling his shoulder to ease the ache. Nothing a good hot soak in the tub wouldn’t resolve.
“Strange contraption,” she muttered softly and turned then to look up at the Imperial. He actually didn’t mind standing there while she stared in wide-eyed wonder at the historical relic. The view of her upturned chin reminded him of the soft warmth of a woman’s neck—one of his favorite places to linger.
“Are you going to let me by?”
“Oh.” A weird sensation tugged at Shado’s gut. That should have been warning enough. He stepped aside and purposely looked down at his feet, knowing he’d stare like a buffoon if he watched her walk up those steps.
“Thank you,” she called when she reached the top.
Only then did he dare to look, swallowing hard at the sight of her silhouette with the light shining through the thin material. Maybe it was those odd-looking Victorian boots. Maybe it was her innocent blue eyes. Whatever it was felt like a vice grip on his nuts. He watched as the attendant held the door open for her and she disappeared inside. Shit. He looked around, his mind racing to come up with a plan. She had to be the target Espinoza was using—from out of town, fearless, gorgeous right down to those sexy boots. The sad truth was she probably had no idea what she was doing. He quickly admonished himself for allowing his instant physical attraction to her to interfere with his judgment. Still, his gut told him he needed to get inside.
He followed the sidewalk past the circle drive entrance until he was sure he’d cleared the view of the security camera out front. A service entrance had been cordoned off from the alley by a hedge. He crouched low and slipped through the bushes and into the darkness of the hotel’s side yard.
“Watch my back. I’m going in.” He crept along the shadows, keeping close the building, circling around to the back side where he found an old cellar entrance. Glad for Madam’s negligence in not padlocking it, he held his breath and tugged at the stubborn latch, stuck from little use, until it finally gave way. He drew his gun, flipped the safety off, and proceeded to pull up the ancient door, cringing when its rusty hinges gave a squawk.
One creaking wood step at a time, he descended into the black stairwell and at the bottom paused to snap on his penlight. With its potent beam showing the way, he moved through the maze of boxes and old furniture, ducking the spider webs and the mice scurrying along the floor joists above him. The sound of two men in an intense argument stopped him in his tracks. He skirted a stack of discarded wooden crates and discovered another set of steps leading to the floor above.
The exchange upstairs had stopped. There was a deadly silence, like the calm before a storm. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened. He moved quickly and quietly to the entry at the top of the steps. Just as he placed his hand on the handle, two shots rang out in rapid succession. A woman’s scream followed. Shado shoved the door open with his shoulder and sent it banging against the wall as he tucked and rolled to his stomach and aimed at the scene in front of him. There was his blue-eyed cowgirl, her head held in a vise by a beefy-looking lug. Her face was partially covered by the assailant’s thick arm, and the man’s dark eyes and weapon were both focused squarely on Shado.
“Drop your weapon,” he snarled in warning. “No one has to get hurt.” He rose carefully to one knee, keeping his aim steady.
The gunman’s eyes darted toward the connecting hallway, then quickly to his hostage. He raised his weapon a little higher, keeping it pointed at Shado’s head.
“Back off, or the girl is dead.” He waved the pistol at her temple. Her blue eyes peeped over her attacker’s hairy arm a second before she opened her mouth and sank her teeth into him.
“Bitch,” the hulk screamed and brought the gun down hard, clipping her across the temple.
“Drop her! Come on, let’s get out of here,” someone yelled from the adjacent hallway.
“Police! Freeze!” Shado rose to his haunches, keeping the barrel of his weapon fixed on the big guy’s forehead. The woman was out cold, limp across his massive arm. There was too great a chance of hitting her if he fired. The hulk of a man swerved, aimed at Shado, and squeezed off a shot. With no choice, he rolled away, dodging the bullet, and scrambled quickly to his feet, his finger crooked on the trigger. The now desperate attacker held the poor woman like a rag doll against him. Deep red blood oozed from a gash on her temple, matting her blonde hair.
For a moment, they eyed one another, then Shado spoke quietly. “Let go of her.”
With a sneer, the assailant loosened his grip, and she crumpled to the floor with an ugly thud. He took off down the corridor. Shado surged forward, glancing quickly at the suspect exiting the door at the end of the hall.
He took a quick look inside the hotel room, and seeing the bloodstained carpet, spoke into his microphone. “Two civilians down. Suspects headed out north side of building.” He barely got the words out when the front door burst open.
Gleason and two of the cops on the surveillance team entered, weapons drawn.
“They went out the side door. I think there were at least two.” “Go!” Gleason waved to his team and they took off down the hall.
Shado holstered his pistol and knelt to check the woman’s pulse. Blood oozed from her injury, and a red line marred her otherwise serene face.
“We need an ambulance,” he said. Her pulse was strong. She was a fighter, at least he hoped she was. “The other one is in there.” He shook his head. “Going to need a coroner.”
“Got it,” his superior stated and turned to speak into his phone.
Shado stood and, careful not to jar anything, took a quick sweep of where the victim of a gunshot wound to the head lay in a pool of blood in the middle of the posh suite.
“What is going on here?” A high-pitched voice demanded.
Madam Lee stood in the corridor. Her gaze swiveled between the woman lying in the hall and the scene in the hotel room.
Shado pulled his badge and flashed it as he blocked her view of the dead man.
“What is going on? I want no trouble.”
He knelt down beside the unconscious woman, brushing the hair from her face. He did a quick check again of her pulse, finding it moderately strong. “It would seem someone had a disagreement with one of your clients. I’m afraid you’re going to have to answer a few questions.”
Madam Lee craned her neck, trying to see past him. “We’ll have to ask you to stay out of the room, Ms. Lee, until we can complete our investigation,” Gleason instructed the woman.
“What do I tell my other customers?” she questioned, pointing at him. “I lose clients. No clients, no money.”
Adjusting his Stetson, his superior glanced toward the open door. “You tell them this room is unavailable until further notice, or we’ll find a reason to shut you down completely. Do we understand one another?”
Madam Lee was not happy about the response, but she nodded. “Is he dead?” She tipped her head, black eyes glittering in her wrinkled face.
Shado nodded. “I hope he paid in cash.” Where’s that damn ambulance?
The Imperial’s owner sighed. “This is not good for business.”
“Were you aw
are if this man was expecting guests this evening?” Gleason asked, pulling out a small notepad and scribbling a few times on the pad to get the ink flowing.
“Only a girl,” Madam replied. “That is all I know. Whatever else happened, I know nothing about it.”
“We found the doorman. They must have gotten to him after the girl came in.
He’s rattled, but he’ll be okay,” Gleason remarked.
“I don’t suppose you keep a guest book for clients?” Shado’s irritation with the ambulance’s delay provoked his patience, already stretched thin. He should have followed her in, and maybe she wouldn’t be lying there slowly bleeding to death.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to meet his boss’s cautionary look. “If you would be so kind, Madam Lee, we’ll need to see the registration and credit card information of the man in the room.” He spoke with seasoned protocol.
“Where’s that fucking ambulance?” Shado muttered. The blood seemed to be spreading. He held his hand out to Madam Lee. “Give me your scarf.”
She hesitated, but only for a heartbeat before removing the cloth from her neck.
“On their way.” Gleason shrugged. “Best we can do.”
The woman’s head lolled lifelessly as he lifted her to tie the scarf around her wound. It wasn’t the best, but it was all he had. He was tired of waiting. “To hell with this.” Shado reached down and scooped her into his arms. God, she was pale. “Where’s the van?”
The front door opened and both undercover cops entered, breathing heavily. One of them gestured behind him. “They had a car waiting around the corner. I couldn’t get the license plate.”
“Damn,” Gleason cursed under his breath. “You two stay here and watch the scene until our boys get here. No one goes in that room, understood?”
They nodded and Madam Lee, with confusion etched on her face, followed them to the front door. Gleason rushed into the street and summoned the van. It cut away from the curb and squealed to a stop in front of the hotel. In the next block, the sound of sirens filled the icy night air.
Christmas Angel Page 3