Broken Angels

by Anne Hope

  “You’re still here.” Relief trembled in her voice, underscored by anxiety.

  The slight inclination of his head was the only indication he’d heard her. “I didn’t expect you to come back,” he said after a short pause.

  She refrained from telling him she’d never been too good at staying away from him. “Where’s the lawyer?”

  “He went to get some documents for me to sign concerning Liam and Lindsay’s estate. He should be back any minute.” Zach finally turned to look at her, and she wished he hadn’t. The sight of his eyes made her heart ache. They were tired, filled with sorrow, despite his best efforts to conceal it.

  The old impulse to reach out to him—to nurture and soothe—reared within her, but she fought it. It wasn’t her job to comfort him any longer. He was on his own, just as she was. She fisted her hands and ventured deeper into the room.

  “Why are you here, Becca?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  A whisper of a smile fluttered over his lips. She’d always loved his smile. It brightened his whole face, made his eyes sparkle and long grooves dimple his cheeks. But today it was half-hearted, strained.

  Rebecca wet her lips. “I’d like to apologize for the way I reacted earlier. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I do.” He walked toward her, his gait smooth, his body lean and square. She was aware of every muscle his gray cotton shirt concealed, was intimately acquainted with the wide curve of his shoulder, the springy whorls of hair on his chest, the powerful arc of his back. Her fingers still burned with the feel of his flesh beneath them. Why did the body—the heart—remember, even as the mind struggled to forget?

  “I’m past that now.”

  “Yeah? Then how come the mere thought of kids has you running for the nearest exit?”

  He was right, of course, but there was no way she’d admit it. Just the idea of children—other people’s children—crippled her. It wasn’t that she didn’t love kids. On the contrary, she loved them too much. Loved them so desperately she’d made herself sick with yearning. She couldn’t allow that yearning to take root within her again. This time it would destroy her. Hope was a double-edged sword, as sharp as it was seductive. She’d learned that the hard way.

  “It was just a shock to my system,” she said in her own defense. “I never expected to have any children, let alone three at once.”

  He nodded, his gaze so piercing she felt it all the way down to the marrow of her bones. She tried not to squirm, but failed. Butterflies brushed silken wings against the walls of her stomach. “Could you please—” She faltered. “Could you please tell me about the shooting?” She’d wanted to ask him about it when she’d seen him at the funeral two weeks ago, but it hadn’t seemed appropriate at the time. Everything had been so new then, the wounds still shockingly fresh. “Did the children see—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Did they see their parents murdered?

  Zach sat on the edge of the gleaming desk, as if he’d suddenly grown so weary he needed the support it offered. “No. They were in bed when—” He released a thin stream of air that was half sigh, half snort. “When the son of a bitch broke in.”

  A shadow passed behind his eyes. “No one heard a thing. He probably had a silencer.”

  “Who discovered them?”

  “The next-door neighbor.” A lengthy pause followed. “The police think she probably scared the killer off. That’s why the children were spared. She took the kids to her place while the cops worked, so they wouldn’t see—” His voice trailed off.

  She raised her fingers to her lips, gently shook her head. “How could something like this happen? Why?”

  She didn’t expect an answer, but he answered just the same. “Because some junkie was looking for his next fix and was short on cash. Because some nut job wanted to try out his new gun. Because the world has just gone crazy. Take your pick.”

  Something arctic-cold and lethal blew across his face. “My sister was shot in the heart. Death was so instantaneous she barely bled. Liam’s death was a little slower. He must have realized what was happening.” He clutched his hands, wrapped his palm around his fist in a steel clamp. “That’s all it takes. One shot and you’re out.” The latter was spoken so softly she barely heard it. “Now I’ve got three brokenhearted kids and no idea what to do about it.”

  Something inside her shattered. “I can only imagine how Noah and Kristen felt when they found out. Who told them?”

  Zach’s gaze latched onto hers, and she read the words before he spoke them. “I did.”

  “Oh, Zach.” She lost the battle and went to him, but stopped herself before she reached for his hand. It seemed so natural to touch him, even though a chasm of time now gaped between them.

  “Noah just turned nine, so he understands what death means. He took the news like a man.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “That’s what worries me. He didn’t react at all. No shock, no pain. He has to let himself grieve like a child, but he won’t.

  “Kristen is just the opposite. She refuses to believe her parents are gone. Death is an abstract concept to a five-year-old. She’s convinced they’re just sleeping and they’ll come home once they wake up. No one ever dies in cartoons, right?” His voice dripped with bitterness.

  “And Will,” he continued, “he’s barely walking, so he doesn’t understand much at all. All he knows is that his mother isn’t there to hug him or rock him to sleep, and he thinks if he cries hard enough she’ll hear him and come to him. The other night he chewed on his fist so hard, he gnawed the skin off.”

  Rebecca inhaled a sharp, deep breath that rattled in her chest. As much as she fought it, the overwhelming urge to draw that baby into her arms and hold him until his tears dried and peace befell him seized her.

  Her demons awakened, reached long, scaly limbs through her veins. She battled to subdue them, all the while knowing what she had to do. Those children needed her. It was time she stopped wallowing in her misery and did the only thing her conscience allowed.

  “I’m going to do it.” Her voice was firm and resolute, void of the tremor that passed through her.

  Zach arched two puzzled brows.

  “I’m going to help you take care of those kids if it kills me.”

  And she meant it.

  Chapter Two

  On the outside, the four-bedroom, redbrick, bowfront townhouse with the high steps facing Union Park was the picture of architectural brilliance. On the inside, it looked like it had been hit by an earthquake. And not a small earthquake. This one would have measured at least eight on the Richter scale. Maybe even ten. Every toy these kids owned had been pulled off the shelves. A mountain of stuffed animals carpeted the faded hardwood floor. In the center of the living room, about a thousand microscopic Lego pieces lay scattered, and Zach couldn’t help but wonder if someone had set off a bomb in here while he’d been busy making lunch.

  He wouldn’t have heard it over the racket these three were making. Noah and Kristen were arguing over the ugliest stuffed animal he’d ever seen. It was some kind of googly-eyed monkey that would have given him nightmares when he was a kid. Hell, it would probably give him nightmares now.

  From his highchair, Will wailed at the top of his lungs, loud enough to give a fire engine a serious run for its money.

  “It’s mine.” Noah shoved his sister, tugging on the monkey.

  “I had it first.” Tears welled in Kristen’s blue eyes, her bottom lip trembled, but nothing short of a set of vice-grip pliers would pry the blasted thing from her tiny hands.

  “Give it a rest, guys. Noah, let your sister have the goddamned thing.” He realized he’d sworn in front of the kids and ran rough fingers through his hair.

  Behind him, baby Will continued practicing his siren impersonation. The pungent smell of smoke filled the kitchen, and for a second Zach thought he was hearing a fire truck after all. Then he remembered he’d forgotten the grilled-cheese sandwiches on the burner.
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  A groan rumbled in his throat. He grabbed the pan, nearly singeing his flesh, and tossed the blackened sandwiches into the trash.

  Above him, the fire detector let out a trill even soprano Will couldn’t match. The children released the monkey and covered their small ears with their palms. Will howled louder, his face turning a downright scary shade of red.

  Zach tried to open the window over the sink, but the fucking thing refused to budge. “Christ.”

  Old buildings.

  He grabbed a kitchen towel, began swatting at the smoke. But all he managed to do was spread it through the room until he couldn’t see two feet in front of him.

  Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Kristen decided to join Will in an ear-splitting operetta that would have made Pavarotti proud.

  Zach propped his ass on the kitchen table, his shoulders heavy with defeat. As an account executive for Ad Edge, one of the most prestigious advertising agencies in Boston, he was accustomed to stressful situations. He was often required to meet impossible deadlines, to put out fires in the figurative sense, to deal with conflict and appease hard-nosed business executives whenever they threw a tantrum. For nearly a decade he’d handled each situation life tossed his way like a pro football player avoiding a tackle, his eye always trained on the goal. His co-workers had nicknamed him the Iceberg, thanks to his ability to stay cool and collected no matter what.

  And now it had taken these kids but two weeks to turn him into a complete moron. He thought of all the terms of endearment people used to describe children—little darlings, sweethearts, angels. Like hell they were. Devils in disguise was more like it. They pulled the wool over your eyes with their sugary smiles and puppy-dog expressions, all the while plotting to blindside you when you least expected it.

  “Aren’t you going to turn that thing off?” Noah’s question cut through the cloud of smoke enveloping them.

  “It’ll stop on its own in a few seconds.” Zach barely recognized his own voice. It was gravelly, flat and resigned.

  A sharp snort punctured the air. “Loser.” The smoke dissipated a tad, and Zach caught sight of Noah bending over. The insolent child swiped the monkey, then took off at a run.

  “Noah,” his sister bellowed. “Give it back! I want it!”

  Zach pitched aside the towel and went in search of another window he could pry open. A bitter taste spread through his mouth. He was messing this up, big-time. His eldest nephew didn’t respect him, his niece didn’t know what to make of him and the baby cried like a banshee whenever he got within three feet of him.

  He tried the window by the fridge, managed to crank it open a notch, and a warm gush of fresh air trickled in.

  Will’s cries settled into a miserable whimper interspersed with hiccups. Noah and Kristen raced up the stairs, stomping and arguing the whole way.

  Zach leaned on the sill and let the clean air fill his lungs. Maybe Becca was right. He couldn’t do this alone, no matter how badly he wanted to. The plan—her plan—was for her to move in next week, after she took care of a few things.

  He still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. How could they possibly live together given their history? They’d tear each other apart, or worse, end up in bed together.

  That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it. He’d rather take his chances with the three sugar-smiled devils than risk going down that old road again.

  She hated him now. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her icy tone, and that irrefutable truth stung like a bitch. She thought he’d abandoned her, that he hadn’t wanted her because she’d failed to bear him children. That was total bullshit. All he’d ever needed was her, but she’d been too busy beating herself up to see it.

  If she ever realized he still wanted her, everything he’d accomplished by leaving her would be lost. She’d torture herself with impossible fantasies again, and he’d have to helplessly sit by and watch the woman he loved slowly tear herself apart. He’d be damned if he’d put her—or himself—through that again.

  He had to call her and tell her the deal was off.

  He never should have agreed in the first place. Not that it would have made a difference. When Becca had her mind set on something, she was like a runaway train. There was no stopping her. It was this single-minded focus that had cost them their marriage and nearly destroyed her.

  The alarm stopped shrieking. Finally. He glanced over at a now unnaturally quiet Will. The boy watched him with an accusing glare that oozed disappointment.

  “Sorry, buddy.” Zach reached for the phone. “Trust me. It’s for the best.” He’d dialed the first three numbers when the doorbell rang. “Probably one of the neighbors wondering if I’ve burnt the place to the ground yet.”

  The baby furrowed his brows in a way that made Zach feel like the worst kind of fool. Unlike his older brother, Will couldn’t voice the word loser, but he didn’t have to. It was written all over his pudgy, tear-stained face.

  Embarrassment saturated Zach’s bloodstream as he took in the war zone around him. “I’ll be surprised if they don’t report me.”

  The doorbell rang a second time. Zach slanted another glance at Will. “Something tells me they’re not going away.”

  Hiccup. Drool. Chest-heaving sigh.

  The kid was no help whatsoever.

  Zach bit the bullet and went to answer. Another earthquake struck the moment he swung the door open. The ground beneath his feet shifted. Something inside him cringed and rejoiced in one painful heartbeat.

  Becca stood on the doorstep, looking shy and provocative as hell. Sunlight poured over her, a golden flood that made her hair shimmer like aged brandy. An odd prickle hopped along his spine. The wind blew, sent those wicked curls rioting around her face. His body stiffened in more ways than one.

  Her eyes met his, distant, guarded. On either side of her, two large suitcases lay propped at her feet—both a threat and a tantalizing promise.

  Chapter Three

  Rebecca tried to smile but managed nothing more than a twitch of the lips. Her stomach wrung at the sight of Zach looking so harried. His dark hair was wild and mussed, as if he’d just crawled out of bed, but the tired lines around his eyes told her he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Long grooves carved deep trenches in his cheeks, giving him a tough, angular look. Alarm leapt across his face upon seeing her.

  “Hi,” she managed to squeeze out.

  “What are you doing here?”

  His words crushed any compassion his disheveled appearance had triggered within her. “Great to see you, too.”

  “Sorry.” He ran his palm over his face, inhaled slow and steady. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just wasn’t expecting you till next week.”

  She forced a smile again and almost succeeded this time. Above her, a tall elm brushed the sky with green-tipped fingers. It shivered in the breeze, and from one of its bristly branches a song sparrow happily serenaded the warm summer day.

  “I wrapped everything up early,” she explained. “Sent the article to the magazine this morning, so I’m all yours.” She winced at her choice of words.

  Briefly his gaze met hers, dark and stormy. Something churned within them—pain, regret and a well of yearning so deep it turned her bones to dust. Then the shutters closed, and she convinced herself she’d imagined the whole thing.

  Reluctantly, he moved aside to admit her, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t want her here; that was as clear as the day was bright.

  Ignoring the sharp stab of disappointment that skewered her, she bent to retrieve her suitcases. Zach had the same idea, and his fingers grazed hers, sending small electrical sparks ricocheting along her nerve endings. She looked up. His face was only inches from hers. Instant heat crawled through her veins. His gaze tangled up her insides until she had no choice but to jerk away.

  She hastened into the townhouse and gladly left him to haul her bags in after her. The first thing that struck her was the smell. “Is someth
ing burning?”

  “Not anymore,” came his clipped reply.

  She scrunched her brows and took a few more tentative steps forward. Wispy threads of smoke curled overhead. Heaps of toys littered the floor. From the kitchen, a heartrending whimper punctuated the air, followed by a hiccup.

  “What happened here?”

  Zach dropped her bags in the hall and quickly latched the door. “Didn’t you hear the tornado warning?”

  “Tornado warning?”

  “Yeah, three to be exact. Two did most of the damage. The third—” he angled his head toward the kitchen, “—was in charge of sound effects.”

  The ceiling above her head quaked, and angry howls shattered any illusion of tranquility this place might have at some time possessed. Seconds later, two scruffy-haired kids came barreling down the stairs, tugging and shoving each other the whole way.

  “I told you two to cut it out,” Zach warned in that stiff tone she recognized all too well. He didn’t lose his patience often, but when he did, his voice grew strained, rough, like a taut rope just beginning to fray at the edges.

  The kids ignored him and bulldozed their way into the living room, their small feet sending Lego pieces skittering across the weathered floor. They wrestled over a stuffed baboon. At least she thought it was a baboon.

  For the first time since she’d known him Zach appeared lost, defeated. An aura of hopelessness encompassed him, and it tugged at her heartstrings despite herself.

  He’d lost weight. He’d always been lean, but now he was nothing but muscle and bone. At six-foot-three he should have looked lanky, but he didn’t. His square shoulders, wide chest and sinewy arms gave him a swimmer’s build, though he wasn’t much of a swimmer. He’d nearly drowned when he was a kid, and even now he had an irrational aversion to water. He much preferred biking, hiking and running. Back in school he’d been the track and field champion. She’d never missed an opportunity to watch him run. Those long, muscular legs of his coated in a sheen of sweat, bulging and straining as he’d leapt across the track, had captivated her, left her dry-mouthed and tongue-tied.