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alone, made her different from other women he'd dateda
hundred years ago, it seemed.
"What about Billy?" He kissed her silky shoulder, inhaling
her scent; cataloging it to memory should she ever leave.
"What about him?" She shifted, pressing her pelvis against
him in silent request.
Her fingernails drew across the back of his neck teasing
the short ends of his hair.
"Do you still?" He paused unsure if he had the right to ask
her about other men. After all, could he commit to her
anymore now than a week ago? Hadn't he already seen what
living with an undercover cop could do to devastate a family?
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The picture he carried in his wallet of Stephanie and Daniel Jr.
was reminder enough. Maybe it was better he didn't know
where she came from, then he wouldn't have to think of her
there when she was gone.
* * * *
Angel rubbed her palm over the hard sinewy muscle of his
shoulder. "Who's the woman and little boy?"
Shado's gaze snapped to hers as though on a tight hinge.
"Where did you see that?" He lifted her off his lap,
standing quickly in the darkened room.
Without a word he yanked up his jeans and tugged a shirt
over his head. Shoulders slumped in what appeared defeat;
he sat on the edge off the bed and dropped his forehead to
his palm.
Angel had no idea that his reaction to the picture would be
so severe. Whoever the woman and the young boy were, they
obviously meant a great deal to him. At least she assumed
they were mother and son by the warm embrace in the
picture.
"It was lying on the floor, near your shoes," she answered
softly. Her heart was torn between the desire to pull him back
into her arms and finding out more about this woman who
had such a hold on him.
Before she could entertain her next question, he bolted
from the room leaving her exposed flesh chilled from the
open window.
She pulled her t-shirt over her head, contemplating how
best to approach the situation. Given they were stranded
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together in a tiny four-room apartment there was really only
one choicedirect.
She scooted off the bed, straightening it quickly before she
headed down the short corridor. "Shado?"
There was a long silence as she continued past the
bathroom and kitchen not finding a trace of him anywhere.
Her gaze followed the parameter of the living room and
there was no sign of him. She checked the pile shoes near the
door and realized his hiking boots were gone, so too, the
picture and his jacket.
Angel rushed to the window and tore open the sash,
sticking her head into the swirling white flakes to search the
street below.
At the end of the block, she saw him trudging though the
snow. His head and body slanted against the wind. She drew
inside, shaking the snow from her hair, pondering whether to
chase after him. Angel lowered the window and drew an
afghan around her shoulders. He wouldn't have left without
good reason, even if the only reason was that he needed
some space to think.
She curled up in his recliner and watched the snow until
the shadowy gray sky turned a deep indigo purple.
* * * *
Angel was jarred awake at the sound of the key in the
lock. She rubbed her eyes, unaware of how long she'd slept.
The view outside was dark, except for the glow of the
streetlights. Shado said nothing as he placed a large package
on the floor and hung up his coat.
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"Have you had anything to eat?" It wasn't what she
wanted to ask, but it seemed a good start.
"Wasn't hungry. I thought maybe you'd like to get out
though. Our policeman's Christmas party is tomorrow night. I
thought maybe you could use an evening away from this
place." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm going to call it a
night. Hope this fits." And with that he turned and
disappeared into his room.
Angel had no idea of what she must look like, though her
hair felt plastered to the side of her face and her throat was
bone dry. She blinked to make sure she hadn't dreamt that
he had given her a package.
She held up the sack with gold braid handles and read the
elegant script on its sideNieman Marcus.
Her brows rose. Sure she'd received little trinkets from
men before in return for services, but none of them ever
came with an invitation to a Christmas Party. She brushed the
afghan from her shoulders and reached into the sack.
Inside was a large white rectangular box tied neatly with a
sheer gold ribbon. Angel's breath caught as she gazed at the
beautiful packaging. Her heart beat a steady cadence as she
laid the box in her lap. Cautiously she tugged at the
decorative bow and slid it from the box.
Angel glanced toward his room, wishing that he'd waited
for her to open the box. Was such extravagance a common
thing for this man? Who were the woman and young boy?
Why would he leave without explanation and then return with
such a
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Angel's eyes widened as she peeled back the delicate
tissue. Inside was the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen.
The color was dark amber, like the rich opulent hue of
Burt's best Kentucky Bourbon.
She pulled it from the box as she stood and the box slid to
the floor. Her gaze fixed on the exquisite garment she held in
her hands. The neckline scooped softly in front and plunged
into a deep 'v' in the back. Included in the sack was a pair of
intricate beaded earrings and a simple open-toed shoe.
She studied the shoes in her hand, marveling at the thin
straps, wondering how women were supposed to walk in
them no matter how beautiful they were. They were the most
impractical things she'd ever seen. Her thoughts traveled
back to the man who had brought her these extravagant
gifts. Like other single men she'd known, and even some of
the married men she'd kept company with, he was a paradox
of passion and reserve encased in a near perfect form.
She closed her eyes, cautioning her heart not to lead her
where there was surely another dead end. It was clear that
his heart belonged to someone elseif only a memory.
Angel carefully laid the gown over the back of the chair
and brushed back her hair with her fingers.
She stopped in the bathroom to make a quick assessment
before she made the choice to face whatever demons held
him at bay.
"Are you asleep?" she whispered as she eased open his
door.
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The light from the living room filtered past her offering a
dim view of Shado lying on his back, his arm thrown over his
forehead.
Angel crept forward, listening to his slow and steady
breathing. "Shado?" His name barely escaped the uncertainty
in her throat. She leaned over him, her hand inching close to
his shoulder.
Before she could speak his name again, Shado reached up
and snatched her forearm. He pulled her body to his, rolling
her beneath him, his hand clamped over her mouth. His gaze
was glued to the window behind her.
She'd heard stories of men who'd snapped, and wondered
if his seclusion had finally taken its toll. His finger moved to
his mouth as if to caution her not to speak. Frozen with
surprise pinned by the weight of his body, she nodded.
From the fire escape outside a shadow passed by,
hesitating briefly before it disappeared. Fear as real as
anything she'd known welled inside her. Tears squeezed from
the corners of her eyes shut tight against what might come
next.
"He's gone. It's okay," Shado whispered.
It was then she sensed the pad of his thumb brushing
away a trail left by her tear.
"Shh, I didn't mean to frighten you. I didn't want to startle
him into doing something stupid."
"Who?" she whispered, not wanting to part from the warm
security of his arms.
"One of Espinoza's men most likely, probably followed me
home." He glanced down at her, a strange mix of emotions on
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his face. "You shouldn't be here." He eased away and sat on
the edge of the bed.
Angel rubbed her fingertips over her eyelids. "I don't know
how it happened. One minute I was playing the piano the
next I'm running into you on the street."
He turned his confused gaze to hers. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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