Borrowed Angel

by Heather Graham

Ashley felt a coldness settle over her. The three men were already moving. Eric pulled his .38 from his waistband and headed for the door. Brad reached in the hallway closet, took a gun and tossed one to Rafe. They were all ready for danger, Ashley thought. It was chilling.

  Wendy’s hands fell on her shoulders. “Come on, get down,” Wendy said softly.

  Eric was already out the door. She heard him explode with an expletive.

  Then he stuck his handsome face back inside. She would never forget the way he looked at that moment. His black hair fell straight against his collar and his eyes were nearly lime against the dark hue of his face. His full mouth was curved in a wry smile. He seemed invincible, and yet terribly human. Strong, masculine…almost reachable and capable of laughter again.

  “It’s okay, guys. We can all stand up again.”

  “Who is it?” Wendy demanded irritably.

  “Seems we don’t have to go to the police,” he said. “The police have come to us.” He turned around, looking back outside. “Baby, stop that and behave. It’s just Billy Powell and Mica. They’re the good guys, Baby. Are you ever going to learn?”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Hey, Billy!” Eric called out.

  Billy swore, hopping ankle deep into the muck and wading to the house. He looked at Brad, Rafe and Eric standing in the doorway with guns, and with Wendy, Tara and Ashley behind. Billy was a man of medium height with coal dark hair and eyes, striking wide cheekbones and broad shoulders. Mica, an older, leaner man, followed him. There was a tag on their airboat proclaiming them tribal police. Billy was wearing a light brownish gray uniform with insignias on the shoulder. The older man was wearing uniform pants with a brightly colored Seminole shirt. He nodded to them in silence, letting Billy do the talking.

  “What are you all expecting, the holdup of Fort Knox?”

  Eric smiled and shook his head. “We heard you found a body.”

  “Yeah, I found a body.” Baby was sniffing his hands. “Leave off, Baby, I haven’t got anything for you,” Billy said, then looked directly at Eric. “I just went by your place and saw all the broken glass. I figured your window was shot to hell. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

  Eric shrugged. “I was hoping that you could tell us. But about your body, well, we might know something.” He pulled Ashley forward and introduced her to Officer Billy Powell, and Sergeant Mica Crane.

  It seemed to Eric that Billy held Ashley’s hand a long time and that it took him a long time to manage to speak again. “Hi, Miss Dane. It’s real nice to meet you. Real, real nice.”

  “My pleasure, officer,” Ashley said. Then she nodded to Mica. “Sergeant Crane.”

  “Mica. Just Mica,” Wendy said, smiling at the older man. “It’s short for Micanopy, which means chief. And he is a big chief, very important on the council.”

  “Mica.” Billy released Ashley’s hand. Mica took it. The old coot was flushing, Eric thought.

  “Why don’t you tell them what happened, Ashley?” Eric asked her.

  “Let’s bring them inside first, hmm?” Wendy said, and they all went in. Ashley found herself on the couch next to Billy with Eric behind her. Hesitating a bit, she explained about her walk with Harrison Mosby into the swamp.

  Rafe exploded with anger. “Mosby was harassing you! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought I could take care of it myself, Rafe,” Ashley said softly, her lashes lowering. “Anyway, then I was lost. I was just running blindly. Then I saw the three men—”

  “Men?” Billy asked.

  “Well, the three figures. You’re right—I’ve no idea if they were men or women. I never saw faces clearly at all. I never saw the victim.”

  “But you know that they saw you?” Billy said.

  She nodded, trying to explain. “They turned—the two living figures—and looked at me. And I ran again.”

  “Into Eric.”

  “Yes.” She said the word so softly it was barely heard. “Yes, I ran into Eric.”

  “And today someone tried to kill you.”

  Ashley looked up. She felt Eric standing close to her.

  “Someone shot my room,” he replied for her.

  “Your bedroom?” Billy asked.

  There was a slight hesitation. “Yes,” Eric said flatly. “It was one of the rooms where I had opened the shutters.”

  “What makes you think that they were aiming at Miss Dane when they shot into your bedroom window?”

  “Because she was a guest in my house, sleeping in my room,” Eric said smoothly. Then he snapped, “Hell, Billy, I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe someone was aiming for me. Who knows?”

  “Yeah, who knows? Tomorrow morning, Miss Dane, we’ll have you identify the body. We’ve got it in Mac’s big freezer at the gas station. We still can’t reach the city. Phone lines are down everywhere. Roads are flooded. Airboat and helicopter are the only way out, and we’ll be airlifting him out tomorrow afternoon. If you don’t mind, Miss Dane, I’ll bring you to see the corpse and help me with a little paperwork before then.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Ashley said.

  “You’re staying here tonight?”

  “Yes,” Brad answered for her.

  “And you, Eric?”

  “I’m going out to check on the folks.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t—” Billy began.

  “I can take care of myself, and you know it,” Eric told him.

  Billy looked at Eric for what seemed like a long time. Ashley longed to turn around and study Eric’s face, but she didn’t allow herself. She watched Billy’s eyes instead, and he seemed to know that Eric could take care of himself.

  “Well, one of us will stick around outside for the night,” the officer remarked.

  “That’s good,” Eric said.

  “It’s probably not necessary,” Brad said.

  Billy smiled. “No, it’s not, G-man.” He laughed. “But if I don’t stay, you won’t sleep, and with everything going on, you should probably have a decent night’s rest.”

  Brad shrugged. “Suit yourself. I tell you what. I’ll spell you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’m moving on,” Mica said. “Check on some other people.”

  “I’m going, too,” Eric said.

  “I’ll need your statements, too, Eric.” Billy told him.

  “I’ll walk you all to the door,” Brad said.

  Ashley watched Eric leave. He didn’t turn to look behind; he walked cleanly away.

  Outside Mica paused, looking intently at Eric. “John Jacobs is out,” he said.

  Eric inhaled sharply. “What do you mean, out?”

  “Who the hell is John Jacobs?” Brad demanded.

  Eric didn’t answer; he couldn’t. Jacobs had been one of the punks who had broken into the liquor store—and shot his brother and his wife.

  He couldn’t seem to find the words to explain, and he was glad that Mica was there, with his passive, lined face and onyx eyes telling nothing of emotion or pain. “Jacobs was in the gang that killed Elizabeth and Leif.”

  Brad’s lips parted as if he were going to speak, but they closed. Then he blurted, “What the hell is he doing out?”

  “Calm down, McKenna,” Mica said. “It wasn’t the state, and it wasn’t the legal system. Well, all right, maybe he took a long, long walk down death row, but his appeal had been turned down and his death warrant had been signed. He escaped.”

  “How the—”

  “He killed a guard. Switched clothing, and walked out clean as a whistle.”

  “I should have killed him,” Eric said flatly.

  “And you could have taken up residence at Raiford Penitentiary,” Mica said flatly. “I just wanted you to know that he was out and that maybe those shots didn’t have anything to do with your girlfriend. You keep your ear to the ground, huh, Eric Hawk?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the warning, Mica.”

  The tall old Indian walked down to the airboat, and
Brad and Eric both watched in silence as he disappeared around the bend.

  “Damn,” Eric said. He felt ill. He couldn’t believe that Jacobs was walking free again. Brad’s hand clamped down hard on his shoulder.

  “They’ll get him back.”

  “Yeah,” Eric said without much conviction.

  “They will. You’ve got to have some faith.”

  “I do. I have faith in me,” Eric muttered. He smiled, not wanting Brad to know how upset he was. Fires seemed to have been lit inside him. He ached; he hurt. He wanted to scream violently and tear someone to shreds. He swallowed the emotion and poked Brad lightly in the chest. “And you!” he accused Brad. “What were you doing in there?”

  Brad laughed, relieved that the subject had changed, yet wondering if it really had. He kept grinning, leaning back against the closed door and folding his arms over his chest. “You deserved it, you know.”

  “Did I?”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t throw her lasagna on you.”

  “Yeah? Well, she’s flying away tomorrow.”

  Brad shook his head. “Well, she isn’t going to be able to leave with the Tylers. They’re going out early. Ashley will have to stick around.”

  “She needs to get out fast. She could be in danger here.”

  “You’re the one in danger now, Eric. Have you thought of that?”

  Eric frowned. “You think that Jacobs—”

  “I don’t know about Jacobs. I don’t know the man at all. I wasn’t here then. But the person who pulled that trigger, whoever he was, knows where you live, not where Ashley is now.”

  Eric hesitated. “I really can take care of myself, and damned well. You know that.”

  “I know you’re good. But I don’t know a man alive who couldn’t use a little help now and then.”

  Eric paused again. “Don’t leave her alone anywhere, all right?”

  “Hey! This one’s your ball game, not mine!” Brad protested.

  “Wait a minute. When you needed help—”

  “You were around, yes. And I’ll be around. I’ll be wherever you want me. But it’s your ball game. You want to keep her safe, you better plan on being around.”

  “I have to leave now. I have to see about the folks.”

  “She should be all right tonight. I’m here, Tyler’s here, and now Billy’s here, too. You can leave tonight. You need to leave tonight. Yeah, it’ll be good for you. Purge your soul, my boy.”

  “McKenna—”

  “Just remember that she’s here.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

  Eric whistled for Baby. The big cat padded around the corner of the house. He was amazed that she came so quickly. Actually he was amazed that she had obeyed him at all. Training the panther had not always been a successful project.

  He shrugged. “At least the cat listens.”

  Brad laughed and waved. “See you. Give the family our love.”

  Eric nodded and headed down to his airboat. He already felt as if here in knots. He was amazed to realize that it wasn’t Jacobs he was thinking about. It wasn’t even revenge.

  It was Ashley. He felt empty and more alone than he had ever felt in his life. It was almost as if he had severed a hand and left it behind. It was insane, it was madness. They hadn’t been together that long; he couldn’t care that much. He wasn’t in love with her.

  But as he leaped aboard his airboat, he admitted that he was in something, even if it wasn’t love. Love was something that grew. It came in little things—in smiles, in sharing a sunset, in sharing desires and dreams, and in building dreams. He couldn’t love Ashley Dane.

  Maybe it was fascination, maybe it was lust. He couldn’t forget her. Not for a second. When he closed his eyes he saw her.

  He didn’t want to see her.

  Jacobs was out.

  He wouldn’t come here, Eric thought. He would probably try to leave the country. There was nothing that Eric could do about it—finding Jacobs would be like finding a needle in a haystack. He could be almost anywhere in the world by now.

  It gnawed at him.

  But not as fiercely as the thought that he could no longer take Ashley into his arms and forget the whole world.

  He could not forget her.

  And as he motored away from her, he silently damned her a thousand times. He would bury himself that night in the swamp, where she didn’t belong. And maybe he could forget her there.

  * * *

  Ashley sparkled.

  She talked, she laughed, she insisted on helping in the kitchen, and she washed the dishes so swiftly that Wendy assured her that if modeling and designing ever failed, she had a sure shot as the McKenna housekeeper.

  Tara, who knew her better, watched her in silence. Even Rafe—and Brad, who didn’t know her at all—kept a wary eye on her. Every time she caught someone staring, that someone would smile, make no apology and keep staring.

  She had to keep moving and talking and laughing. It was the only way she could stay sane. Eric’s departure had been brutal, and she really wanted to hate him for it. She might have been okay if she could have just gone home, but she couldn’t, not yet. She had to stay and talk to the police, and she had to go to the morgue and look at the body that had been found in the swamp. There hadn’t been a single identifying mark on it, so Brad had been told. Maybe Ashley could help.

  She didn’t mind helping. She minded staying in the same section of the state as Eric. No, she minded being in the same part of the country.

  She wanted to kick herself a thousand times. She’d known not to get involved, but she had done so anyway. Everything about Eric had fascinated her. Even while rinsing a plate to put into the dishwasher, she was barraged with memories—of his arms knotted with muscle, of his smooth and sleek chest a color between copper and bronze, of his eyes, of the tone of his voice, of his arms wrapped around her, of his body deep within her own…

  “Wait a minute, Ashley!” Wendy pleaded. “I don’t put the salad bowl in the dishwasher. Takes up too much room.”

  “Oh. Oh, sorry!” Ashley said quickly.

  Wendy shook her head, perching on one of the bar stools. “It isn’t every day that I have thousand-dollar-an-hour models to do my dishes!”

  “I don’t make a thousand dollars an hour,” Ashley said, grinning. Wendy hadn’t been offensive, though. There was nothing about her that could be offensive. She and Brad were charming. They had welcomed the whole slew of them to their home, and Ashley already felt as if she had known both all her life. They were warm and natural. “I don’t even model any more,” she said. “I design clothing with Tara. I only did this commercial because they both asked me to.”

  “That was nice of you then.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wendy was grinning and playing with a teacup. Ashley paused, salad bowl in hand, because Wendy was so nakedly and unabashedly curious about her.

  “What have you been doing for the past few days?” she demanded.

  Ashley almost dropped the bowl. She tried to smile and stammer some kind of answer, but then Wendy laughed apologetically and spoke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just that, well, Eric is my brother, in almost every sense of the word. I love him very much. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I did have the most marvelous time torturing him.” She smiled and shrugged. “He’d put me through a bit, if you can imagine. And it’s so damned hard to reach through his reserve! I haven’t seen him react to anyone the way that he reacts to you in…years,” she said softly.

  Ashley turned around, washed the salad bowl, then dried it carefully. “I don’t think he reacted at all. He left.”

  “Umm. In a bit of a huff, too.”

  “I didn’t see him ‘huffing.’”

  “And you never will see any of his emotions, especially a ‘huff’!” Wendy said wisely. She looked past the dining room to the living area. Brad and Rafe were sitting with their heads low, deep in conversation. Billy had gone out for a walk around the
property. Tara was in the guest room nursing the baby.

  Wendy smiled sheepishly. “He isn’t an insecure man, not at all. It’s just that sometimes…” She shrugged and her voice went so low that Ashley had to set down the dishrag and come over to the counter to hear her. “Eric and his brother were a lot alike. Leif was like that. When he was really mad, he walked away. When he was upset, he walked away. Eric almost never raises his voice. I was thrilled to see him the way that he was today.” Wendy nodded her head at Ashley, indicating the clothes that she was wearing. “I was startled to see you in Elizabeth’s things.”

  “Well, that hardly means anything. He really couldn’t allow me to run around with nothing.”

  “He might have tried tying you into a pair of his own jeans!” Wendy laughed. Then she sobered. “Does he mean anything to you, Ashley? I probably don’t even have the right to ask this, but I like you, and as I said, I love Eric.”

  “I could, too,” Ashley whispered before she realized what she was saying. Her face flooded with color. She moved away from the counter. “I…didn’t mean that. I—”

  “Didn’t you?” Wendy asked. She sounded so sweet and so earnest that Ashley lowered her head.

  “It can’t work,” she said softly.

  “Why not?” It was a new voice asking the question. Tara had come out of the bedroom, looking sleepy and a little weak and pale, but somehow staunch as she smiled at Ashley.

  Ashley lifted her hands to them both. “Because he doesn’t want anything more to do with me.”

  Wendy looked at Tara. “I’m sure that he does want more to do with her.”

  “Right,” Tara agreed. She surveyed Ashley from head to toe. “I mean, he couldn’t just walk away, not from her, could he?”

  “I don’t think so. Where is he ever going to find that hair again?”

  “Hey!” Ashley laughed. “Wait a minute, there’s really nothing more to discuss here. He’s gone. I’ll see the police tomorrow, and then I’m going home.”

  “I’ll take odds on that,” contributed a male voice.

  Startled, Ashley whirled around to see Brad. He had slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and was resting his chin on her head. Rafe was there, too, holding Tara against him. “I’ll say that he comes back here by twelve noon,” Brad said.