by Cassie Miles
With careful maneuvering, Jenna and her mother set up the scenes with Darius, putting the tiger through his paces. The cameras were filming when Rafe stepped onto the set.
Though he was now mortal, Rafe was clearly the dominant animal. Respectfully, he approached the huge cat and circled him. One step at a time, he approached until, finally, he reached out to stroke the gleaming fur of Darius's striped coat.
The tiger tossed his head. With his giant paw, fortunately declawed, he smacked Rafe's muscled thigh. But Rafe stood firm.
The tiger took a step toward him.
"Darius, sit!" Jenna shouted.
He took another stalking step.
Instead of getting out of the way, Rafe strode into danger, into Darius's range. He reached out, quick as a whip, and slapped the tiger's ear.
Darius threw back his head and roared.
Jenna held her breath. She knew that Rafe was vulnerable. With fierce teeth, Darius could shred his human flesh. But the tiger did not attack. He and Rafe eyed each other curiously.
There seemed to be an understanding between them. As if they shared a secret joke. When they played with each other, Rafe's strength in handling Darius was a pleasure to watch. They were two beautiful animals.
Jenna had to admit that Alex's vision had been brilliant. This scene between man and tiger would play very well on film.
When they concluded, Darius was lying down and Rafe sat behind him.
"Cut and print," Alex said. "Fabulous! That was fabulous."
As soon as Jenna and her mother had returned Darius to his cage, the director called for her. "Jenna, I want you to do much the same with the snake as Rafe did with the tiger. Just enjoy yourself. Don't worry about continuity, we'll cut together the images that work."
Feeling stiff and self-conscious, Jenna allowed Serena to dangle from her arm and glide through the tangled wig. "There," she said. "Is that enough?"
Alex approached her. He spoke softly so only she could hear. "Think of a dance, Jenna. You are the embodiment of femininity. You are Eve. And the snake is your partner."
He turned back toward the cameras. "Could we have some music please? Classical, I should think."
"Dancing?" Jenna said. Beyond the lights, she could see her mother watching. "Like a belly dance? I don't know how to do that."
"You're not a stripper, Jenna. This shouldn't be an exotic-dancer thing with sexy poses. It's innocent. Do whatever you feel like doing and I won't interrupt you again."
The sounds of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake issued from a boom box, and Jenna returned to the set. She felt ridiculously clumsy at first, but after a moment, the sinuous grace of the python gave her a feeling of movement. Though she did not for one instant forget that the camera was running and people were watching her, she managed a sort of dancing rhythm.
"Fabulous!" Alex shouted. "Keep the music going. Rafe, you enter the scene with her. Jenna, pass the snake to him."
The bright lights focused on the set seemed to create a separate world. As Rafe came toward her, nearly nude, Jenna's heart leapt. If only this could be real. Just the two of them, naked and innocent in the garden.
Violins serenaded them. Rafe stretched out his arm toward her. As she clasped his fingers, she arranged the python to twine around their joined hands.
They moved together, finding a special dance that was theirs alone. His eyes spoke to her. His body fitted with hers, then separated. Seductively, she drew him back to her.
He lifted her above his head, and she glided—graceful as the python around her shoulders—down his body.
"Cut and print," Alex shouted.
There was a round of applause from the people who had gathered around the set.
"Rafe and Jenna, that was marvelous! I believe the temperature in this building has risen by several degrees. If you two would please step off set, we can hose you down."
She lifted Serena the python from her shoulders. "Back to business," she said. "Thank goodness that's over."
Quietly, Rafe said, "I think we've just begun."
Together they went to the animal room where Kate was waiting. She beamed at them. "Very pretty, you two. If I were Alex, I'd want you to be Adam and Eve. You look wonderful together."
"Gosh, Mom. Thanks." This was her mother. What else could she say? Jenna held out the snake. "Would you mind cleaning Serena off? She's got makeup goop all over her."
There was a tap on the outer door, and they heard Dorothy call out, "Have you got the snake put away?"
"She won't hurt you," Jenna said. "Come on in."
Dorothy kept her distance, standing in the doorway. "I need the wig, Jenna."
"Good! I can't wait to get this thing off." She yanked out bobby pins. "This hair must weigh ten pounds."
"You guys did real good," Dorothy said. "Alex loved it, and so did everybody else. There ain't nothing like young love."
"We're not in love," Jenna said as she removed the long wig from her head and held it toward Dorothy.
"Then you're the best actress since Sarah Bernhardt." Dorothy took the wig and checked her clipboard. "Get yourself cleaned up, then I'm going to need three monkeys and a llama on set."
"Monkeys and a llama." Jenna exhaled a huge sigh. "That's more like it."
"Agreed," Rafe said. "I'm going to get my clothes from makeup, and I'll pick up your robe. May I use your shower when you're done?"
"Why not save water," Dorothy said.
"Good idea," Kate teased. "Shower together."
Jenna glanced between the two women who grinned good-naturedly. In their eyes, she and Rafe were a young couple, falling in love. Kate and Dorothy didn't know the complexities of the situation, and if Jenna tried to explain, they would surely call her crazy.
Rafe was an angel. She couldn't allow herself to love him because he was not of this earth. Might as well fall in love with the summer sun when September came to take it away.
"I'll bathe alone," she said.
After she'd scrubbed and dressed, Jenna felt like she'd already done a full day's work even though it was barely ten o'clock in the morning. As far as she was concerned, being an actress was a less desirable occupation than swabbing toilets with a toothbrush. And it was devastatingly hard to be with Rafe, especially when he was a mortal man with natural desires.
No wonder she was tired. Her stress level couldn't rise much higher. When she heard hostile voices from the animals' room beyond her dressing room, she charged forth, ready to tear somebody's head off.
"It's really none of your business." Taylor Wannamaker sneered. "You're only a stuntman."
"I'll come with you to deliver the blood samples," Rafe said. "I want to make sure they're handled correctly."
Though he'd slipped into his Levi's, he hadn't yet put on his shirt. Bare-chested, with his long, black hair tied in a ponytail and his complexion darkened with makeup, he looked savage compared to Taylor in his Brooks Brothers suit.
"I told you," Taylor said. "It's not your job."
"You're taking these samples to the coroner's office, aren't you?"
"I don't have to put up with this." Taylor lifted his long snout in the air. "When Jenna comes out, tell her I'm waiting."
She stepped into the room. "I'm here. What's going on?"
Taylor rushed toward her, spewing his explanation. "I came for the blood samples so they can be tested. It's no big deal, except that your boyfriend doesn't trust me."
"Neither do I," Jenna said.
"Well, maybe I'm not taking the samples to the coroner's office, but I'm in contact with a reputable veterinarian who is a specialist in animal disease, and he's going to do the tests in his own lab."
"Why not the coroner?" Jenna asked. "He has Eddy's blood samples to compare with these."
"It's like this. When I talked with the coroner, he said this much lab work would probably take a whole week. The vet can do it overnight." Taylor whined, "My way is best. I need to know, right away, if your animals are sick."
&n
bsp; "Look around the room, Taylor. Do any of these animals appear to be ill?"
"How would I know?"
"Exactly. And how would you know if a vet is reputable or not?"
"Of course he's reputable. I'm talking about Hugh Montclair."
Jenna's blood began to boil. Taylor was willing to risk the health of her animals for a chance to score brownie points with Hugh. "How could you?"
"He deserves to know what's going on with his own movie," Taylor said. "He really is a very well-known vet."
"The sort of vet who might help your career?"
When Taylor stiffened his spine and planted his fists on his hips, his gawky frame looked like an umbrella snapping into shape. "Listen, Jenna, you'd better do as I say."
Smoothly, Rafe interrupted, "Here's what we'll do, Taylor. Jenna and I were planning to visit Hugh this afternoon, anyway."
"You were?"
"That's right," Jenna snapped. "And the samples won't be ready until later anyway. I still need to do the tiger."
Rafe continued, "We'll take the blood samples and save you a trip. Since you're in such a hurry."
Peevishly, Taylor grumbled, "How do I know you won't cheat?"
"I never cheat. I don't lie. I'm so squeaky-clean that filth like you just slides right off." Rafe took one stride toward him. "I'll take care of the blood samples."
Taylor backed up quickly, then tidied his necktie and smoothed his hair. "I'll be in touch with Hugh."
When he was gone, Rafe turned to Jenna. "Looks like Taylor is doing us a favor for a change. I wanted a reason to visit Hugh and have a look at his operation. To investigate."
She nodded. Hugh Montclair looked suspicious. He was experimenting with viruses, and Eddy had been there two days before he died.
"When we were there before," Rafe said, "I sensed a presence."
"I don't understand," she said. "What kind of presence?"
"It was evil, Jenna. Pure evil."
Chapter Eight
Just after two o'clock in the afternoon, Rafe packed the marked blood samples from Jenna's animals in a rented refrigerated case, stowed the case in the trunk of his convertible and set out for the Montclair estate. On this visit, Rafe planned to be more alert. No wine. No cigar. No distractions.
Ironically, the murder of Eddy Benson was turning into the most unusual case in Rafe's career as an avenger. He'd been drunk. He'd led three little piglets across a fake Garden of Eden. He'd been half naked, dancing with a python. And he had twice kissed Jenna.
He drove slowly along the narrow lane between soundstages where pedestrian traffic was heavy. He'd definitely been behaving in an un-angelic manner. If Rafe had been less experienced, less senior in his job, he would've been reprimanded for the liberties he'd taken. But Saint Michael trusted him.
Focus, Rafe told himself. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. Most likely, Eddy had discovered Hugh's use of pigs for testing and had been murdered—by injection of a fatal virus—before he could report Montclair to the authorities. But Rafe also needed to consider the more ominous view of the murder. A dangerous virus had been developed and was spreading—either by carelessness or design.
This afternoon he would find answers at Hugh Montclair's estate.
In the parking lot beside the front gate of the R.I.P. movie lot, Jenna flagged him down and hopped into the passenger seat. "Okay, let's go."
"I'm not taking you with me. This confrontation might be dangerous."
"As opposed to confronting Alex?" Her fine eyebrows lifted in a high arch. "Or dealing with Taylor?"
He scoffed. "Taylor? We have nothing to fear from Taylor. A field mouse has nothing to fear from—"
"Don't be so sure. Taylor might have killed Eddy so he could meet Hugh and advance his stupid career."
What was she talking about? There was no logic whatsoever to her thinking. "That's not a reason for murder."
His gut instinct told him that Hugh was the murderer. He had created a virus that could kill within forty-eight hours. He had been with Eddy during the relevant time frame.
"I'm not staying here," Jenna said. "Every time you leave me here, something scary happens. I'd rather be with you."
"If you're frightened, I can take you to the safe house."
"I'm coming with you, Rafe. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, you need me."
On a certain level, Rafe couldn't argue with that. His need for her was undeniable, almost debilitating. He couldn't rid his mind of her image. Jenna gave vibrant life to fantasies he wasn't even aware of having. The sound of her voice thrilled him. The clean fragrance of her honey-blond hair made him weak in the knees. Oh yes, he needed her. But not for protection.
He gazed toward her. It really wouldn't hurt to have Jenna along. He wasn't planning any guerrilla tactics, and her presence was a diversion that might cause Hugh to be less guarded.
"Please, Rafe." She touched his arm, sending a sensual quiver through his body. "I want to be with you."
With a resigned sigh, he fired up the engine of his powerful car and drove through the R.I.P. gates into the streets of Los Angeles. On the movie lot, the atmosphere was light, airy, magical. On the streets, hard reality surrounded them, painted in harsh shadows. Discordant noise came from strained throats, car horns, slamming doors.
In the deepest core of his being, Rafe empathized with the miserable souls who inhabited these streets. They were his legacy, his kin. A part of him would always be with them. From their suffering came the chance for great redemption. His life as a man and as an angel was proof.
"It seems dismal here," Jenna said. "Like the sun never shines on these streets."
"You'd be surprised."
"How so?"
"Which is more beautiful?" he asked. "Acres of bountiful roses tended by gardeners. Or a dandelion that grows in the crack of a sidewalk and brings a smile to the lips of a child who has never seen a rose."
"The dandelion," she said without hesitation.
"Those who seek the sun will find their own light."
As he had done.
Within a mile, they had left the urban blight. Rafe made a slight detour to remind her, again, of the location of the safe house, then he proceeded toward Hugh's bountiful acres.
"I'm glad you let me come with you," she said. "You need somebody to watch your back."
"That sounds like a line from a movie."
"Why do you think police officers travel in twos? When entering a dangerous situation, it's safer if you have two sets of eyes and ears."
"And how do you intend to overwhelm the bad guys, Jenna?"
She patted her purse. "I'm carrying my gun, and my Dad taught me how to shoot."
"Your father was an interesting man. Taught you to shoot and to smoke cigars."
"And to ride," she said with a soft, nostalgic smile. "He was more than interesting, Rafe. My father taught me what a real man should be."
"And your mother?"
"She showed me how to be a woman."
He envied her family ties. After all these years, Rafe couldn't remember what his mother looked like. If he had ever known his father, he'd forgotten. For as long as he could clearly recall, Rafael Santini had been alone.
Until he met Jenna, he hadn't felt a lack.
"Rafe? What did you mean when you said there was evil at Hugh's house?"
"Evil," he said. "Cruelty, corruption, avarice. You know what evil means."
"But how can it be in one place?"
"Evil generates its own energy, and there are those who encourage it. If they knew I was an angel, they might force the action."
"Bad angels?"
That explanation was far too simplistic, as was the metaphor of Alien Age where creatures from another planet came to annihilate the Garden of Eden. Yet he nodded. "Yes."
"Have you ever fought against one of them?"
"It's forbidden. Our battles are within the hearts and souls of men and women."
He was uncomfortable with th
e course of this conversation. Ethical questions were generally too complex to discuss with mortals. And, to be truthful, Rafe couldn't explain many of the hows and whys. He was a man of action, not words. An unerring internal compass directed him toward justice and revenge.
Though they were uninvited visitors at the Montclair estate, it took only a few minutes for the gatekeeper to respond to their summons. Though he was as young as his brothers, he seemed winded by the effort of latching the electronically controlled iron gates. Despite the warm weather, he wore a heavy leather jacket, zipped to the collar.
From the passenger seat, Jenna peered across Rafe to look at the young man. "Are you feeling sick?"
"A touch of the chills," he said, dragging himself toward the car to stand beside Rafe. "It's nothing."
"You're Nick and Danny's brother, aren't you?"
"That's right. I'm Frank."
"Is that a nickname?"
"My real name is Francis, but I never use it. Sounds too sissy."
Francis? Rafe wished that he had the more acute perception of an angel as he studied the features of the young man who stood beside the car. Had he been wrong to assume that Eddy Benson had called upon Saint Francis with his dying breath? Was he referring to this young man named Francis? "How well did you know Eddy Benson?"
"We weren't buddies or anything." Frank slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. He seemed to grow paler by the minute. "When I first came here, I wanted to be in movies. I worked with Eddy on a motorcycle flick. I liked him."
"Are you all right?" Jenna asked. "You look like you're going to faint."
"Kind of dizzy," he said.
Jenna climbed out of the car and went to him. "You look terrible. Get in the car. We'll take you to the house."
Though unsteady on his feet, he resisted. "I'm fine, really. Just need some rest."
"I insist," Jenna said.
Rafe agreed with her diagnosis. He joined her, taking Frank by the arm and guiding him into the narrow back seat of the sporty car. This young man was about to collapse before their eyes.
