by Rachel Lee
Rafe remembered that clearly, but he hadn’t let it get in his way. As he saw it, he was like an angel of justice, and angels couldn’t afford to let feelings keep them from their missions. No way. Raquel had gotten him close to Eduardo, and that was all that mattered.
“Hey,” said Manny, “can we talk inside, or you wanna come out here?”
“Just what do you want, Manny?”
“To see the kid. My flesh and blood. My dead sister’s only child. What’s so wrong with that?”
Still reluctant, his pistol firmly in his hand, he opened the door and let Manny inside. The man was dressed in a dark suit and tie, every inch the successful businessman.
Suit notwithstanding, he crossed the room in a flash and knelt on the floor beside the baby.
“He looks like you,” Manny said after a moment. “I read somewhere that kids look like their dads for the first year.”
The peanut gurgled and waved his arms and legs.
Rafe stuck his head out the door, checking the balcony and the courtyard below. Seeing no one else, he closed and locked the door.
Turning, he looked at Manny and the baby, and had to bite back an instinctive protest when Manny picked the kid up. Rafe leaned his back against the door, barring Manny’s exit.
“He’s a cutie, all right,” Manny said, cradling the baby expertly in his left arm and chucking the little chin gently. He rose, bouncing the baby gently, and began to pace the small room. Rafe began to feel like a jerk, hanging on to a gun he would never fire at the man as long as he held the kid.
“What do you want, Manny?”
“To see the kid.” Manny turned to face him, patting the little bottom. “Like I said. I got my own. Eduardo ain’t never gonna have any, since you’re sending him up for life, and my younger brother Tomas don’t like the ladies, you know? So this is Raquel’s only child, probably my only nephew. I wanna see the kid sometimes. And my mother wants to see the kid sometimes. It’s her grandchild”
“Raquel wanted me to keep the kid away from the family.”
Manny snorted. “She didn’t mean me and Mama.”
“She didn’t exclude the two of you, either.”
“Well, she ain’t here to argue now, but I am. It’s all we got left of Raquel. You don’t wanna bring the kid to us, we’ll come to the kid. Here. In a park. You name it. But we wanna see the baby. Besides, how you gonna work undercover with this kid? Maybe you should consider letting Mama take care of the baby while you work.”
Rafe, who had realized the instant he set his eyes on Manny on his doorstep that his days of working Miami undercover had ended, didn’t bother to tell him that. What he wanted was for Manny to get out of here now. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”
Manny nodded. “Good. Don’t think too long. Mama’s having crying spells over seein’ the kid. What’s his name, anyway?”
“Raquel named him Rafael.”
“After you, eh?” Manny nodded and looked down at the baby in his arms. “She was real broken up after you had Eduardo arrested.”
Rafe didn’t want to hear it. “I never lied to her.”
Manny suddenly cracked a laugh. “Yeah, who believes a guy who tells the sister of a big-time drug dealer that he’s a D.E.A. agent? She even told Eduardo you said that. Man, you had it psyched right. Eduardo thought it was the funniest thing he ever heard.”
“He should have paid attention.”
Manny cocked a brow at him. “No sense of humor, eh?” He nodded and carefully put the baby down on the blanket. The peanut was looking a little drowsy now.
“You got some cojones, man. Well, I ain’t askin’ you to do any big thing, but this baby should know his family, you know. His uncle, his grandmother, his cousins. And we ain’t gonna hurt the kid.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll check back tomorrow night, okay?”
“Okay.”
Manny said good-night. Rafe stood in the doorway watching until the man had left the courtyard below, then he closed and locked the door, throwing the second security dead bolt. That was when he realized for the first time that he’d broken a cold sweat.
But everything was okay. The peanut was falling asleep safely, and Manny was gone.
He reached for the phone and dragged Kate Keits away from the late-night news.
“What the hell is going on, Rafe?” she asked irritably.
“Manny Molina was just here.”
She was silent for a beat. “How the hell did he find you?”
“He had me followed.”
She swore, a four-syllable word he’d never heard pass her lips before. “What did he want?”
“The kid. He says he and his mother just want visitation.”
“You believe that?”
“Truthfully? No.”
“Me neither. In fact, I consider it an implied threat.”
“I’ve got to leave right away, Kate.”
“Damn straight. Start packing. I’ll take care of everything on this end.” She paused. “You’re off the streets for good, Rafe. You’ve got an Achilles’ heel now. If the Molinas would use their own flesh and blood to threaten you, somebody else might be even more willing.”
One of the advantages of being an undercover agent was that he rarely got a chance to spend any of his paycheck. That meant he didn’t need to take much with him, because there was nothing he couldn’t afford to replace on the road.
So he packed the kid’s diaper bag with a few changes of clothing, some diapers, formula and bottles, enough to get through most of a day. Everything else he left behind, figuring he could get it another time. He didn’t have much that mattered, anyway. The important thing was not to tip anybody off that he was leaving town.
They left at five in the morning, when even Miami’s streets quieted down enough to make it easy to tell if he had a tail. He drove aimlessly for a while, and when he was sure he didn’t have a shadow, he surprised himself. Instead of heading for the turnpike, he found himself driving toward the cemetery.
He’d never come here before. When he pulled to a stop, he felt like a jerk. But he knew where Raquel’s grave was, because for some reason he’d had a friend check it out over a month ago. He told himself he didn’t care, but it seemed like the thing to do, to know where the kid’s mother was buned. Someday the peanut would want to know.
And for some reason, he got out of the car with the baby and worked his way among the headstones until he stood in front of Raquel’s.
Her family had picked a tombstone with a lamb lying on top of it. A lamb was the last thing he would have associated with the fiery, passionate Raquel, but maybe she’d seemed that way to her brothers and mother. The grave had been sodded, and it looked as if it had been there for years rather than for just a couple months.
He stood there holding the baby, feeling awkward and stupid, but feeling that there was something he absolutely needed to do.
Finally he spoke. “See?” he said. “It’s the kid. He’s okay, Rocky.” The pet name he’d given Raquel felt odd on his tongue, his lips forming the syllables woodenly. God, was he really standing here talking to a stone and a patch of grass?
He looked away, then felt his gaze inexorably drawn down to the bundle in his arms. Rafe Jr.’s eyes were wide-open, staring at him as if the kid could understand every word.
“I’m getting him out of here, Rocky,” Rafe heard himself say. “Manny wants him. I don’t know about that guy. He’s clean, I guess, but I just don’t trust him. So Peanut and me are hitting the road, okay? When the kid gets older, I’ll bring him back to see you.”
Then, feeling all roiled up inside in ways he couldn’t understand, with his eyes burning as if he’d gotten something in them, he headed back for the car.
“I’m sorry, little man,” he said to the baby in his arms. “I’m sorry your mom got killed. I know I’m second best, but that’s all there is.”
And it was going to have to be enough. He took the
turnpike north, then got on Alligator Alley. It was a straight shot west, and he didn’t see another car behind him for miles. Five days to Wyoming, he figured. Five days.
It was going to be a whole different world.
Angela Jaynes pulled up to the curb, beneath the shade of a huge old tree, and switched off the ignition. Conard City hadn’t changed much in the five years since she’d last come here to visit Emma, and Emma’s house hadn’t changed, either. It was still the same white clapboard two-story with black shutters.
The sun was sinking low in the west, and the October breeze was blowing dead leaves across the yards and sidewalks. Winter was on the way. How apropos, Angela thought. She would have felt offended if the day had been sunny, bright and warm.
She sat a few moments surveying the scene, a small, thin woman with blond hair and blue eyes that held a wistfulness nothing ever seemed to erase.
Getting out of the car, she stretched muscles stiff from the long drive from Iowa and surveyed the rest of the street. Rows of big old houses, neatly kept yards and grandfatherly trees. She wondered if Conard City ever changed, but was glad it didn’t. It made her feel at home, even though she had never lived here.
The breeze gusted again, reminding her it was getting chilly out here. She decided to leave her suitcases until she was sure Emma was home. With such a long drive, she hadn’t been able to tell Emma exactly when she would arrive, and she was here far earlier than she had anticipated.
She crossed the sidewalk and walked up to the wide porch with its swing and wicker chairs. The chairs were new, she realized, natural-colored rather than white, and inviting. Emma had been able to give up taking boarders since her marriage, and apparently things were even better than that now. Five years ago Emma had been barely making it on her shoestring librarian’s salary.
Be home, Emma, she thought as she raised her hand to knock. She really needed to measure her blood sugar. It had been a little too long since her last meal, and she was beginning to feel the familiar sense of weakness in her muscles, the warning that low blood sugar was right around the corner. In her purse she had a roll of candy for emergencies, but she hated to do that. Invariably it started the seesaw going again.
She didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open and Emma’s warm, wonderful smile greeted her. An instant later she was enveloped in a bear hug, the first hug she’d had since her last visit.
“Angela,” Emma said. “It’s so good to see you!”
Angela hugged her back, truly feeling as if she’d come home. “You’ve gained weight!” she said on a laugh that was laced with tears of happiness. “It looks good on you.”
“Eight whole pounds. Gage says it’s because I’m happy. I think he’s right.” Emma stepped back, looking at her. “You look wonderful!” Then she shook her head, her beautiful red hair trailing over her shoulders. “Wonderful, but not well. Are you okay? You need something to eat?”
“Actually...”
Angela didn’t have to say another word. Emma ushered her quickly toward the kitchen, and Angela caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror as they passed. Too pale, her eyes too big in a face that was too thin. Her blond hair was messed up, and her makeup had been gone for hours.
“Sit,” Emma said, putting her in a chair at the round oak table that dominated the kitchen. Mouth-watering smells were issuing from the oven.
“I’m making a pot roast,” Emma said, “since I didn’t know when you’d get here. But it won’t be ready for hours yet. What do you need? Crackers? Milk?”
“Both, please. And I need to get my test kit from the car.”
“I’ll get it. You just sit here and eat.”
Emma put a plateful of crackers in front of her, and a tall glass of milk. Alone again while Emma went out to the car, Angela nibbled, waiting for her strength to return.
The main problem with being diabetic, she thought for the umpteenth time, was the way she was enslaved by her schedule. She had to eat at certain times, check her blood sugar level at certain times, inject her insulin at certain times—and nothing could be allowed to interfere with that. Lately, too much had been interfering.
Emma returned a few minutes later with the overnight case that held Angela’s equipment. “Need me to put the insulin in the fridge?”
“Thanks.” At least she didn’t have to be uncomfortable doing this around Emma, she thought as she opened the glucose testing kit and pricked her finger. They’d been roommates in college, and Emma had gotten almost as proficient as Angela in dealing with the disease.
But Emma’s acceptance didn’t make it any easier to accept the necessity, Angela thought as she took the reading. She still hated her own inadequacy, hated being dependent on shots for her life.
The reading was low, as she had expected. Not too low, but low. With a sigh, she put the kit away and nibbled another cracker, hoping to eat just enough but not too much.
Emma sat across the table from her. “Are you okay?”
Angela nodded. “I’m fine. I just needed to eat something. Really.”
“When you called you said...you were having trouble.”
“Stress was getting the upper hand in my life, that’s all. I was getting lax.”
“Well, just let me know what your schedule has to be. I’m a little rusty.”
“Sure. But for now let’s talk about something—anything—that doesn’t involve diabetes.”
Emma laughed. “Fine with me. So, did you decide to quit your job or just take a vacation?”
“I quit.” Angela tried to shrug as if it didn’t matter, but didn’t quite succeed. “I don’t mind repossessing cars and that kind of thing, but I never, ever, want to foreclose on someone’s farm again. God!” She shook her head and looked away. “I’d rather do anything else in the world.”
“I can imagine.”
Angela looked at her. “Are you sure it’s okay with your husband to have me visit for a whole month? Won’t he get sick of having someone else around all the time?”
“He doesn’t mind at all,” Emma said firmly. “You can ask him yourself when he gets home from work, but I promise, he’s been looking forward to meeting you.”
Angela smiled and reached for another cracker. “I’m looking forward to meeting him. He must be really something to get you over your fear of men after....” She trailed off, not wanting to mention the incident in college when Emma had been brutally assaulted and left for dead.
“He’s special, all right,” Emma said, her face softening. “We need to find someone like him for you.”
Angela shook her head. “No way.” It was bad enough that she had to live with her own illness. She couldn’t ask that of anyone else. The one time she had been foolish enough to think someone could love her in spite of her diabetes, she’d lost both her baby and her lover. No man wanted a woman who couldn’t have a healthy child, a woman who would periodically need to be rushed to the hospital as she too often had, and whose entire life consisted of an inalterable schedule of eating and self-treatment. A woman who could die on him at any minute. She’d made peace with that a long time ago and just wished her friends would, as well.
Just then the back door opened and Gage Dalton stepped into the kitchen. He looked exactly like the wedding photo Emma had sent Angela, except that he had gained a little weight, too, and looked less hard. He was wearing a light jacket, jeans and a white shirt. Angela remembered that Emma had once said he wore only black. That seemed to have changed.
He looked at her, and a warm smile split his face. “I recognize you,” he said, his tone as warm as his smile. “Hi, Angela. It’s about time you came to visit.” He took the hand she offered and squeezed it gently.
“It’s awfully kind of you to have me for a whole month,” she said. “That’s a long time to have a houseguest.”
“We’re looking forward to it.” His dark eyes twinkled. “Hey, this town is so small it starts to feel inbred. A fresh face is always welcome.”
He
turned to Emma. “Speaking of which, do we have room for another houseguest?”
“Sure. Who?”
“I ran into a guy I used to know in the D.E.A. Well, I didn’t know him very well. We met a few times. Anyway, he’s in town to see Nate about something, and he’s staying at the Lazy Rest. That would be okay, except he has his son with him, and he’s less than three months old.”
“That’s no place for an infant,” Emma said.
“That’s what I thought.”
“So ask him to come stay with us. We’ve got plenty of room.” She turned to Angela. “Unless you think that would keep you from resting? Babies can be noisy.”
“No, no,” Angela said swiftly. “I love children. I wouldn’t mind at all.” Actually, she rather liked the idea of not being the only houseguest. It would keep everyone from fussing over her unnecessarily. She might be an invalid, but she hated to be treated like one.
“Good,” Gage said. “Then I’ll give him a call.”
“First, honey, could you get Angela’s bags from her car? She probably wants to rest after that long drive.”
Ten minutes later Angela was ensconced in a room on the second floor with a view of the street. It was the room Emma had always given her when she visited, and it felt familiar and comfortable. Emma had made a few changes, brightening the room, and the mattress felt new. Still, it felt like coming home.
She was so glad to be back with Emma, back in Conard County. The thought buoyed her, driving back her fatigue long enough to take a shower and change.
Then she stretched out on the bed and fell asleep to the sounds of booted feet on the stairs and a baby fussing. Gage’s friend had arrived.
Rafe was surprised by the phone call from Gage, and he hesitated before accepting the offer. But then he looked around the motel room, looked at Peanut sleeping in his portable bed, at the formula mess on the dresser and the disposable diapers already filling the wastebasket, and decided to accept.
He had been surprised to meet someone he knew here and instinctively felt uncomfortable about it. He’d stopped at the sheriff’s office to introduce himself to Nate, but he still hadn’t told the man they were brothers. Finding that he actually knew someone in this godforsaken place complicated things.
