by Rachel Lee
The question surprised her. Emma had always said that Nate Tate never gossiped. Of course, this wasn’t exactly gossip. He was asking her opinion. “He seems like a hard, lonely man.”
“That’s what I thought.” He sighed, a ragged puff of air as his feet hit the pavement. “I can’t imagine why Marva didn’t tell me about him.”
“Maybe she knew you’d want to take him away.”
He didn’t say anything for another half a block. “You might be right. I didn’t think about that. But that woman was a lousy mother. If Rafe’s experience was anything like mine, he raised himself.”
“You didn’t do such a bad job, Nate.”
A chuckle escaped him. “There’s some who wouldn’t have agreed with you when I was in my teens. The army straightened me out a lot.”
“Rafe doesn’t seem to be doing too badly,” she lied.
“Really? I would have seen it differently. I’ve rarely seen a man so alone....” He trailed off and fell silent as they rounded a corner onto Front Street, where Emma’s house was. “That’s not true. I’ve had some friends who were like him. Walled in solitude. If life beats you up enough, you stop letting anything get close to you.”
When they reached the house, Angela invited him in. “You can talk some more with Rafe. I won’t be in the way. I need to eat something and shower.”
“Thanks.”
They found Rafe sound asleep on the couch, the baby tucked in his arm. He’d showered, shaved and dressed in a shirt and slacks, but hadn’t put on any shoes. The sight of his bare feet touched Angela somehow, as did the sight of the baby snuggled against him.
“Let’s go make some coffee,” she whispered. “He might wake up.”
Nate nodded and followed her to the kitchen. Angela made a fresh pot of coffee, then pulled her obligatory snack out of the fridge, choosing a piece of fruit. Nate declined food.
“The older I get, the harder it is to keep my weight down,” he told her. “It’s become a real chore.”
“I’m having trouble keeping my weight up.” When the coffee was done, she poured him a cup, then excused herself to go shower. “I won’t be long.”
“No rush, sweetpea. I’m enjoying the peace this morning.”
Rafe knew they’d come into the house—he would have been lousy at his job if he hadn’t been able to wake at the slightest unusual sound—but he hadn’t wanted to let them know he was up. He listened to their voices coming from the kitchen, but only when he heard Angela go upstairs did he get up, carrying the baby tucked in the crook of his arm, and go to the kitchen.
Nate’s back was to him as he stepped through the door. Without turning, Nate said, “I figured you were awake, son. I take it you’re avoiding Angela.”
Rafe stood where he was, surprised by the man’s perception, and annoyed that Nate could read him so well. Most people couldn’t read him at all.
“I just needed a minute to wake up,” Rafe said. He crossed the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, then leaned back against the counter and looked at his half-brother. “Did you want to see me?”
Nate leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs loosely and sipping his own coffee. “It was an impulse. I figured since we were brothers, maybe we ought to take a stab at getting better acquainted.”
“It’s an accident of birth.”
Nate nodded slowly. “That’s true. But I figure you must have some reason for wanting to meet me after all this time.”
Rafe met Nate’s gaze steadily, even as his heart lurched uneasily. What was the man, a mind reader? “The kid got me to thinking about family, that’s all. He needs some family besides me, and the Molinas don’t count.”
“Fair enough.” But Nate’s expression remained thoughtful. “So why don’t you and the baby come over for dinner Friday evening? You can meet a couple of your nieces, and I know they’re dying to see the baby.”
Rafe nodded, sure that backing away—even though that was what he suddenly wanted to do—would make Nate even more suspicious. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
“Bring Angela, too,” Nate said, rising. He earned his cup to the sink. “Gotta get back to work. See you tonight.”
After Nate was gone, Rafe looked down at his son. “How the hell did I get myself into this, Peanut?”
Bring Angela Right. She was probably going to like that idea about as much as he did.
But Angela surprised him. Whatever had been troubling her this morning seemed to have vanished when she returned downstairs, freshly showered and dressed. She agreed readily enough to go with him to the Tates’, and seemed happy when he turned the child over to her while he went to the store.
Somehow he found the change in her even more discomfiting than her earlier uneasiness.
Lack of sleep, he told himself. He was suffering from lack of sleep. There could be absolutely no other reason why everything in the world seemed to be irritating him to death today.
But it wasn’t lack of sleep when he was checking out at the pharmacy and happened to look across the street toward the courthouse to see Manny Molina standing there. He would recognize that jerk anywhere. In an instant he was back on alert, the way he was when he worked the streets.
He looked at the cashier as he accepted the change. “Is there a back way out of here?”
She looked at him as if he were crazy.
“Just tell me,” he said more insistently. “Can I get out the back?”
“I guess....” She pointed. “Through the door at the back by the pharmacy counter. Is something wrong?”
“Not yet.”
He grabbed the bottled water and headed toward the back of the store. A minute later he was in an alley. His car was out front, but he decided to leave it
What now, dimwit? he asked himself. How had Manny found him? And what if Manny was as dangerous as Eduardo? He’d led the man to this town, and maybe to Gage and Emma...and Angela.
Hell! He stood there for a couple of minutes, then headed home through alleys and back streets.
Rafe Jr. was in a playful mood, so Angela spread a blanket on the living room floor and sat cross-legged beside him as he waved his arms and legs and cooed at the world.
She was fascinated with the baby. Watching him absorbed her as few things had lately, and from time to time she just couldn’t resist hugging him.
Reaching out, she let him grab her index fingers, then lifted him just an inch or so above the floor. What a grip! His strength amazed her, and even when she lowered him back, he didn’t let go immediately.
She heard the back door open and close, and wondered if Emma had come home early. Then Rafe appeared in the living room doorway.
“Manny’s in town,” he said.
Angela felt her heart skip. “Are you sure?”
“I’d recognize that guy anywhere. I saw him when I was checking out of the pharmacy. I went out the back way. Listen, I’m going to call Nate and Gage. Why don’t you lock the front door?”
“Okay.”
She rose at once and went to do as he asked, feeling frightened, because he seemed to consider this so serious. She could hear Rafe talking on the phone in the kitchen and the baby cooing from the living room. Such normal sounds that it was nearly impossible to believe anyone could be in danger.
She wasn’t used to thinking in those terms. In her life, the dangers that lurked were things like foreclosure and loan denial, or emotional pain. She couldn’t imagine living in a world where people might actually try to harm you physically.
But that was Rafe’s world, and apparently he’d brought it along with him. He was definitely a man to avoid She didn’t want his world impinging on hers. Hers was already difficult enough. She thought about going back home rather than staying around for this mess.
But then she stood in the living room doorway and watched the baby playing, and realized that that innocent child had been dragged into Rafe’s world, too. The baby needed all the protectors he could get.
She scooped
up the child and carried him out to the kitchen. Rafe was just hanging up the phone.
“Nate’s going to keep an eye on the house,” he said. “Gage is out on an investigation, but as soon as he gets in, Nate is going to send him home.”
She looked at him, clutching the child tightly to her breast. “Do you really think that’s necessary? Is that man going to kidnap the baby?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s on his mind. And I don’t like that. I especially don’t like the fact that he managed to find me, and that he followed me all the way here. That’s a little more than wanting occasional visitation.”
Angela wished she could argue with him, but she had to agree. Why wouldn’t this Manny person just assume that Rafe would eventually come home with the baby? “Maybe you should call your boss and let him know what’s going on.”
Rafe leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Why not?”
“Because somebody had to tell Manny where I am.”
“You think your boss did?”
“I don’t know who it was. I’m not inclined to suspect Kate, but somebody else in the office might be an informant. First there was Manny finding my apartment. He said he had me followed. Maybe. But now this. I don’t like it at all.”
“You live in an ugly world, you know?” The words burst from Angela, a protest against the uneasiness that was filling her, born of concern for the child in her arms. “How can you bring a child into a world like that?”
“Believe me, lady, that was never my plan!”
“Well, you don’t plan very well, then.”
His face became as hard as she had ever seen it, and his dark eyes grew sharp enough to sting her. “You don’t exactly live in a pretty world, either, Angela. At least I don’t take away the homes of innocent people.”
He couldn’t have stunned her more if he had slapped her. She stood gaping at him, aware that her heart was suddenly thudding hard.
“I go after crooks, lady. People who hurt other people. You see that little kid you’re holding? I’d really, really like it if by the time he went to school I could be sure there wasn’t some dealer somewhere standing on a street corner thinking up new and improved ways to give him a drug habit. I go after people who import drugs so they can get rich on the ruined lives of thousands of people. I go after people who break the law. Who do you go after? Farmers? People who’ve been honest and hardworking all their lives, only to have a couple of bad years through no fault of their own? To my way of thinking, you aren’t a whole lot better than the people I go after.”
She couldn’t even breathe. Her heart hammered so hard and rapidly that there didn’t seem to be any room left in her breast for air.
“Take—” Her voice broke. “Take the baby. I don’t want to drop him....”
At once his face changed. He crossed the room like a shot and took Peanut from her. Holding the child in one arm, he reached out with the other, putting his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “What do you need?” he demanded roughly. “Orange juice?”
She hadn’t eaten enough after her run, she thought. Maybe she had taken too much insulin...or maybe it was just the adrenaline that was surging through her right now.... She was feeling dizzy, weak, cold sweat beading her brow.
“Sit down,” he said. “Right where you are. Just sit down....”
She felt herself sinking to the floor, sitting on the tile, leaning against the cupboard, all of it seeming far away. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and willed the weakness to pass.
“Here.”
She opened her eyes and saw a glass of orange juice, felt the hard edge of the glass touch her lip. She opened her mouth, felt the cold juice pour in. Swallowed.
When he took the glass away, it was empty. “What else?” he said, his voice almost ragged. “What can I do?”
She managed to shake her head. “The baby...”
“He’s right here, counting the floor tiles. Angela, what else do you need? Tell me.”
“I’m...okay.”
Orange juice took longer than candy, but now that it was in her system, the weakness would pass soon. She just had to wait it out.
Rafe swore quietly and sat cross-legged beside her on the floor. “Does this happen every time you get mad?”
It was too much effort to answer. She didn’t even bother to try. She just let her eyes close.
“Hey,” he said almost gently. “Don’t go away from me. Keep your eyes open.”
She didn’t want to look at him, but she opened her eyes, anyway. “My sugar must have been low to begin with,” she said, the orange juice beginning to work.
He gave her a crooked smile. “So this doesn’t happen every time you get mad?”
“No...no...” And now she was starting to get embarrassed. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, but she didn’t have the energy yet to find her way upstairs.
He reached out, surprising her, and brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead. “You’re looking better,” he said decisively. “Not a whole lot, but some. Boy, did you scare me.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have struck out at you like that. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t true.”
“It was true, all right If it hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have hurt.”
Little by little her body was coming back to her. She no longer felt as if she and it were at opposite ends of a long tunnel. The floor felt hard now, as did the cupboard behind her.
“No,” he said, “it wasn’t true. I just...well...” He looked away, then gave her a rueful shrug. “You got under my skin, Angel. You have a way of doing that.”
If she’d been herself right then, she probably would have gotten up and fled. She didn’t want to get under his skin, didn’t want to get any closer to this dangerous man. But she wasn’t herself, so she just sat there dumbly and wondered where this was all going to lead.
He looked at her a minute longer, then leaned over and picked up the baby.
“Here,” he said, settling the child in her lap. “Your legs are softer than the floor. You going to be okay for a minute?”
“I’m getting better,” she assured him. “Really.”
“Good. I’ll be right back. I just want to take a quick look out the windows.”
The threat was back. He brought it back with those few simple words. But instead of getting upset, Angela just sighed wearily and looked down at the child lying on her thighs. “We’ll be okay,” she said. Since they were already on the floor, there was no risk of dropping the baby, and she could tell the danger of her passing out was over.
The peanut was getting tired, she noticed His eyelids were looking heavy, and he was sucking on his fist. “Doesn’t he have a pacifier?”
“No. Maybe I should get him one. Back in a minute.”
She didn’t look up to watch him go. What was the point? She had a feeling she would be watching him leave countless times until he finally went for good.
An ineffable sorrow filled her. She tried to tell herself it was just her hypoglycemia, that it would pass when the juice fully hit her system, but deep inside, she knew it was something more. It was looking at a baby in her lap, something she could never have for her own. It was thinking about a world where people could say such hurtful things to each other with perfect truth. It was thinking about a hard-edged man who could be so amazingly gentle that he utterly disarmed her without warning.
It was thinking about all the things she could never have, as if her diabetes had built a glass wall between her and the rest of the world.
It was self-pity, and she tried to force it from her thoughts. Time to get on the stick, she told herself. Time to start thinking about the future, instead of everything that was wrong with her present. Time to stop wallowing.
Rafe came back a few minutes later. “There’s an unmarked car across the street, and no sign of M
anny.” Bending, he took the child from her lap, then reached down with his free hand to help her up and to a chair.
“You sit down,” he said. “You still look pale. I’m going to take the kid upstairs and put him down for his nap. Be right back.”
She didn’t know if that was a good thing, but she was feeling too whipped emotionally to do anything except what he said.
He looked over his shoulder just before he disappeared. “Do you need your test kit?”
She nodded. “Thanks. It’s in the black leather case on my dresser.”
“I’ll get it.”
A glance at the clock told her it was already time for her next insulin dose, and almost time for lunch. But now she was out of whack again. God, how weary she was of this, weary to the bone with fighting a battle she didn’t seem able to win. She was doing everything right. Everything. And yet still she’d made a fool of herself, needing help from someone else for something she should have been managing on her own.
Life was the pits sometimes. And she didn’t see any end in sight.
Rafe returned with Angela’s kit and put it on the table in front of her. “What exactly do you have to do?” he asked, sitting across from her.
She sighed and decided she was silly to be so sensitive now, after he’d had to help her through an attack. “Pnck my finger, squeeze a drop of blood on a test strip, put it in the machine and take a reading.”
“Would you be more comfortable if I left the room?”
“What difference does it make?”
“None to me.”
She chose a finger than wasn’t too sore from all the repeated prickings and did the test. “Still a little too low,” she said.
“So what now?”
“A few crackers.” Then more insulin. Then eating again a half hour later. Then the same thing, over and over and over...
He got the crackers for her. “You want milk, too?”
“That might be too much. Just water, please.”
He returned with a glass of water and sat. “So what happened, Angela? Help me understand. You seemed okay one minute, then the next you were out of it.”
“I guess my blood sugar was a little low to begin with. Being diabetic, I try to keep it just a little high, because it’s so easy for it to drop. Anyway, I was probably low normal, then, when I became angry, I had an adrenaline rush that drove my level even lower. If I hadn’t been a little low to begin with, it wouldn’t have bothered me at all.”
