Night Angel

by Renee Reeves

  "It was a long time ago sweetheart,” he said while using his thumb to brush the tears off her other cheek.

  She sniffled, “I know ... But your mother sounded s-so, so s-sweet...” she squeaked. Unable to continue she pressed her face against his warm hand while the lump in her throat grew to the size of a baseball.

  "Are you sure you want to hear the rest?"

  She nodded and after a moment he sighed and cleared his throat. “Dad ... he-uh ... well, she was already dead. He had smashed her skull in ... numerous times. Blood...” a fine tremor shook his frame, “mom's blood, was everywhere. Even on him. I ran to a neighbor's house and called the police, but when they came dad had disappeared."

  Morgan stared at him, horror-struck, picturing his mother as he had seen her—not just dead on the floor, but viciously bludgeoned, over and over again until nothing was left of the mother he loved but blood.

  No wonder he had hated his father enough to kill him.

  "Oh ... Nick.” She breathed; “I'm so sorry I made you relive this ... I pushed you and pushed you for the truth but—” she stopped, the words trembling on her lips.

  "Hush, Morgan. It's alright.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head, “Like I said, it was a long time ago and you deserved to know. The rest...” He shrugged, waiting on her answer she guessed.

  "Please,” she kissed the pulse dancing at base of his throat, “finish it."

  "Child services stepped in and sent Jake to live with our aunt. Since I was seventeen they weren't too concerned with me, but I spent a few months in some shitty group home, filled with anger and rebelling against everyone.” His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more savage. “Then I learned that my father was out on bond! I couldn't believe it. What a fucking crock."

  Morgan felt his hands clench into fists on her back, heard the deep shaky draw of breath in his chest and snuggled closer against him, petting and soothing him with her touch. “Go on,” she whispered.

  "Christ, Morgan ... after what that bastard had done they let him out on a five thousand dollar bond. So what else could I do? I went looking for him, filled with a rage so hot it practically leaked out of my pores. I knew all his hangouts, knew everywhere he would feel welcomed and forgiven, which was just about any bar or strip club within five blocks of our house."

  In her minds eye Morgan saw him. A rough youth, big and handsome, on the verge of manhood but filled with such rage that he sought out his father in these dark, sleazy places ... all for the sole purpose of revenge.

  Morgan found it hard to connect that rough youth with the soft-hearted, successful man who was now holding her against him like a second skin.

  His nose nuzzled the baby-fine hair at her temple. “Anyway ... late one night I saw him coming out of the Starlight Lounge. The bastard was laughing and had his arm around one of the strippers. He was drunk of course, and he had the nerve to smile at me ... I lost it.” Nick spit out each word with biting clarity. “I saw red. Everything in my line of vision was red. I beat the hell out of him, picturing mom's bloodied face every time I landed a punch. Nothing could have stopped me. I remember the stripper screaming and I told her to shut up and get the fuck away. Dad was laying, actually half sitting against the wall where I'd left him ... and there was a broken beer bottle on the ground ... I gutted him with that beer bottle Morgan. And I left him there to die."

  Her mind whirled with the visual of Nick gutting his father. Nausea rose, acrid and burning. She swallowed it down, not wanting him to see how much it bothered her. “You were hurting Nick. A hole had been carved into your heart. You didn't know what else to do."

  "Hell, wish you had been there when I was sentenced. I could have used your support.” His huffed laugh sounded more like a sob, “But you're right; I didn't know what else to do. All I knew was that this murderer who was my father had taken my mother away from me, and was now laughing and carrying on with his life like it had never happened.” His big body tensed beneath her stoking palms. “Like she never existed."

  "It's obvious you loved her very much.” Morgan said softly. “I wish I could have known her."

  He swept his hands through her hair, lifting it until it veiled out behind her and then letting it drift through his fingers like fine silk. “Yeah, mom would have liked you. You two would have had a lot in common."

  He didn't say abusive husbands but he didn't have to. Morgan knew exactly what he meant.

  "When the police found me later that night I was sitting on the front steps of our house, waiting. I didn't fight, I didn't lie and say I hadn't done it. I was glad I had done it because there was no way that bastard deserved to live. I was eighteen and I spent six years in that hellhole prison. It could have been much longer, but luckily the police knew our family history and how violent dad had always been. There were also neighbor's testimonies on my behalf. The judge felt that me witnessing my mother's murder was partly punishment enough. The six years was just to make sure I would never forget what prison was like, and hopefully never go back."

  "And you haven't Nick.” Morgan's heart ached for him, for the childhood he had lost. For the birthdays and Christmases he had spent in prison. “You learned from it and became a good man, exactly as the judge meant you to. Exactly like I know your mother would have wanted you to."

  Nick's brittle laugh, short and sharp, surprised her. “The hell of it is that if the police had done their jobs each and every time we called them, then maybe, just fucking maybe, my mother would still be here to see the man I became."

  She looked up at him, at his dark head resting against the trunk of the tree. Her eyes traced the strong line of his neck up to his jawline. Everything about him was strong, powerful ... beautiful. She pictured him locked behind bars, imprisoned for years, tried and convicted for committing an act of revenge against his mother's killer.

  His mother's fate could have easily been hers too.

  "I still love you, Nick."

  He flinched against her, and his voice was flat when he spoke. “Think about it Morgan. I'm a killer, an ex-con. That label never goes away."

  "Are you trying to convince me not to love you? Because it's not working.” She pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You're no killer, and I don't care about labels."

  "I'm bad for you,” he stated firmly, gazing up at the canopy of trees, “Bad for your future."

  Morgan let out an exasperated sigh and brought his hand up to her scarred cheek, pressing his palm against it. “If Richard hadn't been killed then this—"she pressed his palm firmly against her deformed skin, “and worse, would have been my future. So you're not scaring me. I've had bad, Nick. I've had the devil himself. I know what bad is ... and you're not it.” She turned her head and pressed her lips against his palm, “I love you. I want you. You and only you."

  He brushed his hand through the hair at her temple and urged her head up. “You're crazy,” he said gently, and then he smiled at her, a blindingly beautiful, very rare smile. “And I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you."

  * * * *

  The next morning Morgan awoke in Nick's big bed, alone. She stretched, wincing as her sore muscles protested. He had made love to her frantically at first, and then more tenderly as the night wore on, not stopping until early morning. It had been wonderful, and she now knew what being thoroughly well-loved felt like.

  A strange noise from the foot of the bed drew her attention and she shimmied across the sheets to hang her head over the edge. A bouquet of wildflowers and a brown cardboard box, loosely closed, sat on the floor. From it came a pitiful wail. Frowning Morgan reached out and flipped up the lid flaps. A tiny black and white kitten peeked up at her, huge greenish yellow eyes blinking sleepily. A purely un-adult-like jolt of giddiness shot through her, making the pit of her stomach quiver with excitement.

  Richard, not wanting to deal with fur and messes, had never let her have a pet. Morgan knew the kitten must have come from Boo's litter and that Nick
had picked it out for her. A vision of the tiny kitten perched securely in Nick's big hand had her heart turning over and over in her chest.

  The kitten mewled again and smiling Morgan reached into the box, picked it up and kissed its nose. Its rumbling motor started up immediately, sounding too loud for its little body.

  "Well hello to you too, sweetie.” Cuddling the kitten next to her Morgan reached down on the floor again and picked up the flowers. A note was attached to the stems.

  Turning onto her back and placing the kitten on her stomach she opened the card.

  'The flowers are from me, picked by hand. I couldn't let Jake keep showing me up when it comes to romance. I hope you like the kitten; her siblings kept beating her up. I figured you had better take care of her.

  I love you sweetheart ... Nick."

  Smiling through tears and clutching the kitten to her chest Morgan read the note over and over again, wondering what she had finally done right to deserve so much.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 30

  Two years later...

  Morgan reined her snow-white mare, Majestad, to a halt near the edge of the creek and glanced around the copse, loving it just as much now as when she first discovered it. The moon was full and high overhead, making the water twinkle like diamonds. She smiled, breathing deeply of the brisk night air, hardly believing that two short years ago she had been a broken shell of a woman, licking her wounds and seeking nothing but solitude in the vastness of Montana. Sure she still had nightmares and sometimes jumped at loud noises, but Nick's patience—in the bedroom and out—had gradually acted as a balm to her frazzled nerves. Every single day he touched her, kissed her, held her in his arms or made her laugh—whatever it took to make sure she knew how cherished she was. Every morning she woke up feeling cherished, the languor of each night with Nick still thrumming lazily in her veins.

  So now, when her life with Richard would reenact itself in her dreams she had Nick to turn to, and nothing drove away the nightmares better than Nick's warm body against her, his strong arms wrapped around her, and his hands stroking her panic away.

  It was Christmas Eve and the full-blooded Andalusian mare had been her gift from him, along with a specially made saddle designed to cushion her leg and hip, thereby taking the strain off her joints. Morgan grinned and stretched in the saddle, testing her leg. A warm flush climbed from her neck to her cheeks as she remembered how she had told him she would thank him later.

  Majestad shifted restlessly beneath her, her delicate ears flicking back and forth, following the sounds of the illusive nightlife. The mare was one of the few horses Nick had purchased that had not had a horrific life and had not been a rescue. She had been imported from Spain to a ranch out in California and he had found her on the ranch's website. In order to not arouse her suspicion Nick had had Jake fly out in his stead to see the mare in person. Two weeks later the mare was delivered to Evanoff Farm, all unbeknownst to Morgan.

  Until today.

  "It's later."

  Morgan gasped and glanced wide-eyed over her shoulder. Nick sat bareback astride Lucky under the low limb of a tree, his face concealed by the shadows, but with his large, dark body highlighted by touches of moonlight. His eyes glittered, the weight of his gaze falling on her and she shivered, reacting to the pure, unadulterated magnetism of him. Long, sinewy muscles, showcased in light and shadow, rippled as he guided the horse slightly closer.

  A small, involuntary sound of need tore from her throat. She knew firsthand what that body felt like—hard steel and imposing power, and the magic it could create within her ... she grew wet just thinking about it. The gelding snorted, nostrils flaring, arching his thick neck and shaking his long white mane in a breathtaking display of supremacy. The horse had recovered remarkably well in the couple of years Nick had had him, but was still scarred and only allowed Nick to handle him. Majestad answered the gelding's snort, nickering low in her throat and Morgan tightened her hands on the leather reins, turning the mare to face them.

  She raised a brow at Nick. “Your horse is scaring my mare."

  Nick snorted, sounding almost like the gelding. Amusement tinged his voice, “Trust me sweetheart, that's not fear she's showing him, gelding he may be."

  He rode closer, muscles shifting with the movement of his horse, becoming larger and more commanding the nearer he got, until he was knee to knee with her. Morgan's heart thudded in her throat as her gaze locked with his. His hot blue eyes zeroed in on her dry lips and she stuck the tip of her tongue out, wetting them. Like a match to kindling, his eyes flared brighter. In a sudden move he palmed the back of her head, tangling his fingers roughly through her long silky hair and urging her face up to his.

  She didn't even pretend to resist when he leaned down and pressed a hard kiss on her moist lips.

  "It's later,” he whispered again. He trailed his mouth down the side of her jaw, her neck, licking and nibbling.

  Her breath hissed out of her. “Oh God, Nick ... what are you doing to me?” Her eyes closed, a soft moan escaping as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access.

  "You remember what you told me you would be doing to me later?"

  "Hmmm.... “It was so hard to think when he touched her like this. His teeth nipped her earlobe. She shuddered, goosebumps springing to life up and down her arms. “Maybe,” she gasped.

  "Maybe huh?” He sucked her neck hard, almost to the point of pain, making her squeal with a mix of surprise and pleasure, then released the abused flesh to lightly lick and soothe. “I think that's a lie. Tell me again what you want to do to me,” he persisted. “Tell me and then show me."

  He grasped her small chin, rubbing her pouty lower lip with his thumb, knowing she still struggled with shyness and uncertainty at times. Heavy-lidded gold eyes gazed up at him, passion clouding their beautiful depths. In two years she still hadn't figured out that he wasn't good enough for her, but hey, he'd decided long ago not to fight the issue. All he could figure was that somewhere along the way of life he must have done something really good, and his reward was sitting right here in front of him.

  Never had he felt more complete. His woman.

  Morgan smiled, Cheshire cat-like and rubbed her hand up his thigh, sliding her small fingers between the horse and his leg, almost reaching the point where his cock nestled, hard and aching. Then, while giving him a smile of pure bullshit innocence, her fingers traveled back down, teasing and burning him through his jeans.

  He gritted his teeth while his cock swelled even more.

  "I think...” she said in a husky, seductive drawl, “I think that we need to continue this off of the horses."

  He grabbed her hand and placed it firmly over his groin, cupping his hand over her fingers so she couldn't pull away. “Baby, I still have a lot to teach you if you think we can't continue right here.” He smiled into her huge, now somewhat apprehensive eyes, knowing if he pressed for it she would willingly allow a little more ... kink into their loveplay. “But not tonight."

  Reaching past her he took hold of her reins and turned Lucky, leading her to a grove of trees about fifty feet from the stream. He dismounted; ground tied the gelding and came around to her. Morgan leaned down to him, long hair falling forward like a cloak, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grasped her around the waist, easily lifting her off Majestad. A light slap on the rump sent the mare off to graze near the gelding.

  "He won't hurt her?” Morgan's worried gaze followed her beautiful dainty mare.

  Nick shifted her in his arms, lifting her higher against his chest as he walked towards the secluding cluster of trees. “No, sweetheart. Lucky's a pussycat when it comes to females, and besides, I think your mare's more than capable of handling him.” He ducked his head, laughingly avoiding her swatting hand.

  "My Majestad is innocent,” she proclaimed.

  Nick grinned down at her, “Yeah, about as innocent as you are."

  Arms full of soft warm w
oman, Nick walked deeper into the trees, confidently following a leaf strewn trail barely discernible in the darkness. Morgan snuggled her head under his chin, planting light nibbling kisses on his throat. Nick groaned and shifted her more comfortably against him, each step rubbing his raging hard-on against the stiff fabric of his jeans. Finally he saw the mammoth-sized tree that had inspired him over six months ago and gestured with his chin for her to look over her shoulder. “Look."

  Morgan turned and her mouth dropped open in stunned awe. Nestled and hidden amongst several large trees was a small cottage that could have been lifted straight out of Lord of the Rings. Made of thick redwood and grey stone, the tiny structure boasted a Spanish style arched doorway and shiny multi-paned windows. A black wrought iron bird bath stood off to the side and across from it was a small, two-person covered gazebo.

  Nick kissed her temple, then whispered, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Again."

  "Oh ... Nick...” she breathed. “It's, it's ... sooo beautiful!"

  Everywhere she looked she found special little touches; a deer feeder at the edge of the wood line, baskets filled with trailing vines hanging from the gazebo, a stone bench situated near the gentle creek. Wonderingly she looked at Nick. “I've been here before, I know I have, and this—” she made an all encompassing gesture with her hand, “none of this was here. I know it!"

  Nick didn't answer, just carried her over to the gazebo where he sat down with her still snuggled in his arms.

  "Nick?"

  He avoided her gaze until she cupped his beard roughened jaw and forced him to look at her. She stroked, petting him gently. He seemed uncertain, embarrassed even, and it unnerved her a little. “When ... Why did you do all this?"

  He coughed a little and cleared his throat, “Because I love you.” It was said almost helplessly. “Because you mean everything to me and I didn't want you to regret any of it."