Night Angel

by Renee Reeves

  * * * *

  "Son-of-a-fucking bitch!"

  Nick jerked the steering wheel to the right, layed on the horn and braced himself against the seat as the big truck whipped to the side, trying to avoid the out-of-control Volvo swerving towards him on the narrow mountain road. He maneuvered left, then again right, trying to counter each move of the on-coming car. Sweat filmed his skin, dripping into his eyes and making his hands slick on the wheel. Surely this was not how he was supposed to die. Hell, his life was not even flashing before his eyes the way it had when he had stood in the courtroom listening to his sentence.

  He was not afraid of dying, just hated the thought of allowing some drunken bastard to make the choice for him.

  "Goddamn it!” he slammed his fist down on the horn, but the white death kept coming. He caught a glimpse of a woman's dark hair. Her head was down, lying against the steering wheel, rolling with the motion of the car. A gust of wind caught the tips of her hair pulling strands of it outside the car.

  Shit. Recognition and terror rolled into this one exact moment. There was only one woman he had seen with hair that long. His decision was made in an instant.

  Pressing his foot on the brake he yanked the steering wheel hard left. The bed of the huge truck swung around and planted him sideways in the road with the empty passenger side in the direct path of the car. Throwing the truck into park he held the brake to the floor and braced himself. The car had only two choices; him, or the mountainside.

  Quickly he pushed the nine-one-one speed button on his cell phone.

  "Accident, route twelve, three miles from Evanoff Horse Sanctuary."

  A second before the impact the driver of the Volvo lifted her head and looked straight at him. Recognition settled like acid in the pit of his stomach. Her mouth opened, eyes wide in horrified disbelief, then the car whipped sideways, fishtailing past him and crashing headfirst into the tree-lined edge of the mountainside.

  No!

  Nick knew the drop on the other side of those trees was over three hundred feet straight down.

  Heart lodged in the back of his throat, he launched himself out of the truck and ran the short distance to the wrecked car, reaching the driver side door in a matter of seconds. Even though he wanted to yank the door open and drag her out he knew that the trees holding the car weren't that strong, and any sudden moves could shift the car's weight, sending the woman to her death.

  He had to move slowly, think calmly. Hands shaking, he eased the door open, little by little.

  Curled against the steering wheel her long dark hair shrouded her, concealing her face except for the curve of one cheek. Wild tendrils spilled around her body. She moaned, long and low as he squatted down beside her seat. “Ma'am? Talk to me. I need to know what's wrong, where you're hurt.” There was no smell of alcohol from her or the car, only a crumpled McDonald's bag and a tan purse on the passenger floor.

  "Hey.” Nick reached in and touched her hair, pushing the thick mass away from her face. Immediately she flinched away. “No. Relax.” He switched to what his brother called his ‘horse’ voice, the one that had soothed countless frightened animals, “I'm not going to hurt you. But I have to get you out of the car."

  Her face swung around, confirming his suspicion. It was her, his fantasy woman, the star of his sweaty, mind-numbingly intense dreams. Tight lines bracketed her mouth, removing the softness that had teased him nightly. Her eyes, a hypnotizing shade of aged gold, were dazed and unfocused, and he could see light purple bruises marring the delicate skin beneath her makeup. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and much more fragile looking. Like a butterfly that would break if handled roughly.

  Christ ... he wanted to wrap her in his arms and take her away. In fact, that's exactly what he had to do.

  "Just stay calm, I'll be as easy as I can."

  A mist was swimming in front of Morgan's eyes, making her dizzy and nauseous. Convulsively she swallowed against the sickness, dimly aware that a huge dark shape had appeared beside her and that the door to the Volvo had opened. A deep masculine voice spoke to her and someone was now trying to touch her. For just a few panicked seconds she was back in the past, cowering in fear. She whimpered, feeling big hands stroke her hair back off her face.

  Big hands. A man's hands. Hard hands that would cause only pain and humiliation.

  "No!” She lurched backwards, reflexively throwing a protective arm up in front of her face to block a blow and clawing with her other. “No, you won't hurt me again!"

  "Jesus, calm down lady!"

  "Damn you, no!” Breathing in harsh, panting sobs she swatted, struggling as her arm was caught in a hard, unyielding grip. Strong fingers bit into her skin, hurting. 'You stupid little cunt, there's nowhere you can hide from me, you're mine, and you always will be.'

  "No. Don't touch me!"

  Her shrill cry echoed in the car, shocking her and yanking her, sweating and cold, back into the present. Her chest heaved; she could feel her heart racing, threatening to burst from her ribcage. The memories cleared away and the mental fog lifted, leaving her staring into the icy blue eyes and severely handsome face of a total stranger. Immediately she lunged for the passenger door.

  The car creaked, shifted. Nick froze, his breath rushing out in a harsh curse as he prayed that the trees would hold. “Jesus, calm down lady! You have to be still!"

  "Damn you, no!” she shrieked, completely oblivious to the fact that he was trying to help her.

  A small fist flew at him, almost colliding again with his nose. He yanked his head back just in time.

  "Shit. Stop it!” he growled. “Do. Not. Move."

  He reached in again, this time ignoring her struggles and fists and managed to get both arms tight around her. He could feel her trembling, could hear her breath hitching in her throat. “Take it easy, okay? I'm not going to hurt you, but the car's not safe."

  He held still, waiting on her. When she didn't fight again he carefully began to ease her out of the car. The trees holding the cars weight groaned and he froze, praying that the heavy rain had not caused the roots to loosen. Nick stayed in a crouch, holding his breath while keeping a firm grip on her, ready to yank her out if the car started to move. When it didn't he refocused on the woman, her eyes were closed and she was wiggling, trying to squirm away from him and making little inarticulate noises. She didn't seem to be aware of her surroundings or of the danger they both were in.

  Precious moments ticked away and the rain was starting to pick up again. He had to get her out of the car and couldn't waste anymore time concerning himself with being gentle. Gentle would get them both killed. Reaching in he wrapped one arm around her waist and slid the other beneath her butt and pulled her towards him. She shifted, tensing for escape, but gave up almost instantly when his hold didn't loosen.

  Defeated, her head dropped back against his shoulder and he could feel her warm, shallow breaths against his neck as he lifted her out of the car and crushed her high against his chest, hugging her to him. Moving quickly he carried her a safe distance away from the wreckage. She whimpered, trying once more to shift around in his arms.

  "Shhh ... calm down. You're safe now."

  She shuddered, and he noticed she was holding her thigh, small knuckles stark white against her blue jeans.

  "Just relax, I've got you."

  Mindful of any injuries she might have he carried her over to where his truck sat in the middle of the road. “I called nine-one-one earlier so they should be here soon."

  Her hair flowed over his arm, shifting like dark silk, as he gently maneuvered her so he could open the door. “You'll be comfortable in here until the ambulance arrives."

  She jerked violently against him, struggling and arching her back so that her body bowed in his arms. “No! No!"

  "Hey, relax. You're going to hurt yourself.” She obviously did not want him to put her in his truck so he looked around for a place to put her down. He could understand her fears. He was a big guy a
nd she was a female and helpless at the moment. He imagined all sorts of scenarios were running through her head, none of them good.

  But still his traitorous body reacted instinctively to her movements, knowing only what it wanted—and it wanted this particular woman. Nick gritted his teeth, reminding himself of her life and death situation, of the fact that she was obviously helpless.

  "Put me down.” A soft sob, then, “Please, please put me down."

  Her voice was edged with terror; obviously chivalry could only go so far with her.

  "It's okay,” he soothed, glancing around them and spotting a thick grouping of trees near the side of the road, “There's a cluster of trees over there. You can sit in the middle and be sheltered from the rain. I won't put you in the truck."

  She seemed calmed by that and relaxed somewhat when he settled her carefully onto a thick patch of green grass growing between the trees.

  "How badly is your leg hurt?"

  She shook her head, “It's not ... from the accident."

  Suddenly she gasped, bending forward over her thigh. Her brilliant gold eyes, the most beautiful he had ever seen, were now dulled by pain and pleading with him. She was breathing through her teeth, panting and clutching at her thigh. Staring at him with a kind of distant resolve. Like he was her last hope and she wasn't too happy about it.

  He frowned, not liking this feeling of helplessness. Squatting down beside her he asked, “What sweetheart? I'll help you if you'll let me."

  "P-purse.” The word ended on a groaning hiss and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Pills. In-side."

  Nick reacted instantly, jumping to his feet and striding across the wet pavement to the Volvo. He remembered that he had seen her purse lying on the passenger floor and went around to that side. Moving cautiously he gently pressed the door handle and eased the door open. When the car stayed firmly planted he reached in and grabbed the purse, yanking it out he hurried back to the woman, dumping the contents on the ground at her feet. A small bottle of prescription pills dropped out and rolled towards the road. He grabbed them, glanced at the instructions and popped the top.

  "Two?” he questioned.

  She shook her head. “T-Three ... ple-please."

  He held the pills in his palm and cupped the back of her head, dropping them onto her tongue. She dry swallowed them and he watched the slender column of her throat flex with effort.

  She sat with her eyes closed for a moment, then sighed and stroked her palms down her thigh, lightly massaging. Slender fingers pushing and flexing the muscle. Against his will Nick's eyes tracked the motion, imagining her hands on him, stroking and caressing his body, and he cursed himself again for being an animal. She was hurt for God's sake.

  "What happened to your leg?"

  "A ... accident.” She graced him with a fleeting glance before her eyes bounced away and fixed on some distant point past his legs. “It ... was a long time ago."

  She wasn't a good liar, but he let it pass. As of right now her secrets were none of his business and he had no right to press her. A dark lock of hair had fallen over her forehead and he absently reached out a hand to smooth it away. She flinched, bringing her forearm up to her face defensively. They both froze. An uneasy silence followed; she ducked her head to avoid looking at him and started fiddling with her pants leg. A muscle started ticking in his jaw, his thoughts leading into areas he didn't even want to consider. Slowly he lowered his hand.

  Working with horses had made him damn good at reading body language.

  And hers told him volumes.

  "You know,” he said conversationally, “you were supposed to hit my truck, not the tree.” She threw him a quick, startled look. He shrugged as if it was no big deal, “I thought you were passed out and I was trying to keep you from going off the mountain,” he looked back at her car, braced head first in the trees, “but that didn't work so well."

  Sirens shrieked in the distance.

  "Helps nearly here.” He stood, pulling his phone from his back pocket. “I should call a tow-truck for your car.” Without waiting for her consent he flipped open his cell and hit a button, watching her while waiting for someone to come on the other end.

  She was frowning, dark brows pulled down low over her eyes, staring at her car. Then the shaking started, first her hands, then her shoulders, even her chin wobbled. Tears spiked her lashes, making her eyes shine unnaturally bright. He knew delayed shock was setting in.

  "Don't think about it,” he said, “You're fine now."

  She blinked at him, eyes huge and wet in her pale face. He wanted to grab her, hug her tight and never let go.

  "I-I could have ... I could have k-killed you. Or a f-family, or a—"

  "Hush.” He caught her chin firmly, shocking her silent. Ignoring her attempts to pull free he angled her head up, forcing her to look him straight in the eyes, “You didn't, and that's all that matters now."

  The sirens were much, much louder now and Nick knew that rescue was only a few sharp curves away. Soon they would be surrounded by commotion and questions and police wanting reports. But for now, for just this moment in time, it was the two of them. They had an unspoken bond now, forced upon them by life's quirky nature.

  She was watching him, like a wary doe would watch an approaching hunter. He let go of her chin, but brought his other hand up and stroked her cheek. Soft downy skin met the rough calloused tips of his fingers. She held still under his caress, holding her breath as if she were afraid to move.

  "You're beautiful."

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  Chapter 5

  You're beautiful.

  Morgan sat on the edge of the hospital table after being poked and prodded for the second time that day, replaying his startling words over and over again. She felt hot and cold at the same time, unsure and off balance, all because of two unexpected words from a handsome stranger.

  You're beautiful.

  No, she wasn't. He had to have been lying, a simple attempt on his part to comfort a woman who had almost been killed. Morgan compressed her lips into a thin tight line, stilling their sudden quiver. She was ugly, inside and out. Richard had made sure of that. I hit you because you drive me to it. I don't like it, but it's your fault. The broken bones are your fault, you know how clumsy you are, darling ... you just need to learn to be more careful. I try my best to take care of you.

  A sharp knock on the door jerked Morgan out of her thoughts and back to the present. A middle-aged nurse walked into the room, smiling and carrying a clipboard along with a small white prescription bottle. “Mrs. Fletcher, you're free to go. Everything looks good, but the doctor wants you take two of these pills each day for five days. They'll help keep the bump on your head from swelling, but its slight and not concussed so you'll probably only have a few headaches to deal with. If you start to feel nauseous, dizzy, weak or anything unusual at all, please come in immediately."

  "I will, thank you."

  Morgan gathered her purse and walked out of the cubicle into the busy hallway to check out at the nurse's station. Over the years she had become very well-versed in the procedure.

  "Excuse me,” she asked the nurse's assistant taking care of the forms, “My car was wrecked and I need to call a cab, can you give me—” She stopped, puzzled by the sudden glazed slack-jawed expression on the woman's face.

  "I'll drive you home.” Deep and rich like the softest velvet his voice stroked up her back, caressed her spine and sent tiny sparks of awareness fluttering through her. Oh God ... It was him. No wonder the woman looked like she would go into heat at any moment.

  Her heart began to thud.

  Morgan stood frozen in front of the nurse's station. She didn't want to turn around, but the weight of his gaze on the top of her head was making her skin feel tight and itchy. ‘You're beautiful’ ... She shivered once and closed her eyes, willing her heart to stop racing and her skin to stop tingling, but his image from the accident burned unwelcome behind her lids. He was eas
ily several inches over six-feet tall with a long-limbed, heavy muscular build covered by a black long-sleeved shirt and worn jeans. Black hair shaved close to his skull framed a face that was fierce, strong, brutal ... and handsome all at the same time. Darkly tanned skin stretched over high cheekbones and an angular jaw shadowed by dark beard stubble. His full mouth bordered on grim and his eyes ... they were the most astonishing shade of icy blue. Morgan curled both hands into tight fists and drew in a long, slow breath, pushing back the insane urge to cup his jaw in both hands just to know what he felt like.

  She wanted to run, run far away from him and the chaos inside her—the sudden bodily urges of wanting, needing, and desiring that she had no control over. But politeness overcame anxiety and she turned, risking a glance up, way up. At five-foot two-and a half she was used to having to look up at most people, but this guy threatened to put a crick in her neck. And he was so close ... his eyes stroking over her, staring at her with merciless intensity, making her utterly conscious of how small and vulnerable she was compared to him. Even so, as she stared up at him she was aware of her breasts becoming heavy ... achy.

  Stop. Just stop thinking about him!

  But she couldn't stop the blush that stained her cheeks, or the niggling unease that came from knowing he knew she appreciated what she saw, even if she didn't want to.

  She swallowed hard, pulling her eyes away. “I-um, appreciate your help earlier, but that's-that's not necessary."

  There was a long silence during which he studied her, one raven-black brow raised consideringly. His perusal was so intense that Morgan began to feel like a bug under a microscope and she felt her flush deepen. To her horror she felt a thin line of sweat break out on her forehead and raised a shaky hand to wipe it away. He grunted, apparently having made a decision, and then he stepped past her to the nurse's desk, took out his wallet and handed the woman a card. Morgan ignored the sudden and completely ridiculous sting of jealousy. Well, if that doesn't just prove that men are all pigs. Get turned down by one woman, move right on to the one waiting behind.