by Wendy Rosnau
"Blu, how am I suppose to pay my bills if I close early without any warning?"
He looked up as if he'd forgotten that anyone else was in the room—his entire attention had been fixed on Amanda. "You never close early, Ma. Once in a while won't hurt. And as far as your bills go, you pay them as regular as you visit the toilet."
"Blu! The baby's ears."
Kristen watched as Blu bent down and scooped a stuffed rabbit up off the floor. "You kept this old thing?"
"I kept all your stuffed animals." She glanced at Kristen. "He loved stuffed animals so much that he slept with them all piled up on his bed. He was still doing that at age eleven."
"Thanks for sharing that, Ma, but I don't think anyone cares."
Kristen watched as his cheeks deepened in color. The Blu Devil was blushing? Who would have thought that was possible?
After a minute passed he said, "I'm taking Kristen for a boat ride, Ma. You mind keeping an eye on Mandy while we're gone?"
"Not at all." Rose stepped forward and for a moment it didn't look as if Amanda was going to willingly let go of Blu's neck.
Kristen knew the feeling. She had felt that very same way the night he had made love to her. And even now, knowing certain things, her feelings for Blu hadn't changed. She still loved him.
"Are you ready?"
Kristen shook her head. "I told you I can't go. It's late and I have to—"
"Leave in time to catch your bus by seven, right?"
That he knew her plans stunned Kristen into silence. Rose turned and looked at her. "Bus? You're leaving, child?"
"I—I… Yes. I'm going … home."
"She's not leaving, Ma. She's going to miss the bus because I'm taking her on a boat ride and then out to supper. We'll be back late."
Kristen faced Blu, furious that he was taking charge as if he had the right. "I'm not going anywhere with you. And I certainly can leave town anytime I wish."
"Running's a mistake."
"And staying here is getting me nowhere." Kristen moved past Blu, took Amanda from Rose and headed into the bedroom. She heard footsteps behind her and when she turned to shut the door in Blu's face, it was Rose standing there. "I'm sorry, Mrs. duFray. You must think I'm terrible, taking advantage of your generosity and lying to your face. Blu's right, I was going to slip off in the night without even a thank-you."
"If that's true, I'd say it was the act of someone who is desperate," Rose said. "Are you desperate, child?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
Rose reached out and touched Kristen's arm. "Then let my son help, child. I can't imagine trusting Amanda's life or yours with anyone else. In your heart, I think you know that's true."
Kristen lowered her voice. "You don't understand, he and I… We—"
"I think I understand more than you think. My advice, child, is to go on the boat ride, and if you still want to leave tomorrow, buy another bus ticket. What could it hurt to stay over one more day? Unless your feelings for my son have changed since you read those newspaper articles in my scrapbook? In which case, I think you might be wise to catch that bus tonight."
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
As Blu steered the Nightwing toward Paradise Point, he again wondered what his mother had said to get Angel to change her mind and to agree to have supper with him. He hadn't expected her to willingly walk out of the fish market with him, but he was certainly glad it had worked out that way.
He checked his watch, then glanced over to where she sat a few feet away. She hadn't said a word to him, hadn't even looked his way, but he'd been studying her in small doses. He could see now that she had her grandpa's eyes, could even see a little bit of Curt in her—they had the same hair color.
The evening was warm and the friendly music coming from the waterfront was meant to lure boats ashore. Blu backed off the accelerator as they rounded the point and the little fishing community of Crawford's Corner came into sight. Turning the Nightwing toward the pier, he said, "We'll eat here," then gestured to the old barbecue shack known for its mouth-watering ribs and the best sweet-potato steak fries on the point.
He watched as Angel assessed the shack with its sagging screen door and aging front porch. He wondered if the place seemed familiar, but she didn't say anything, just stared.
It dawned on him that she just might be viewing his choice of restaurants with disappointment. Angel had spent three years being waited on by maids and cooks, and though she hadn't been brought up that way, he reminded himself that she couldn't remember those simpler times.
He said, "The place doesn't look like much from the outside but Smokey sure can barbecue ribs."
His comment took her attention away from the shack and brought it to him. "This place reminds me of a small eatery on the island. Like this, it never looked like much from the outside, but the islanders always said it had the most wonderful food. Salva…" She looked back at the rib shack, "Salva never let me go there. I tried to tell him that good food wasn't about how shiny the windows were, but who was in the kitchen cooking. Only he never agreed to take me there." She slid off the leather seat and came to her feet. "Do you know if they have crab cakes on the menu?"
The question surprised him, and Blu found himself smiling. He never smiled in public. It was Margo's pet peeve—his sister had call it his inhuman side. But showing emotion in public hadn't fit his old line of work. And even now, though he hadn't worked for Patch for a year, he found it difficult to let himself relax.
Reining in his smile, he said, "I know for a fact that crab cakes are on Paul Fallow's menu. He hasn't changed it in ten years."
She didn't appear to recognize her old boss's name, just like she hadn't second-glanced any of the landmarks where she'd grown up. That hadn't been the reason Blu had brought her here—to force her memory—but he had been prepared for it if it should happen. Actually, he had mixed emotions about it. Oh, he wanted her to remember, just not yet—not until he had Maland bagged.
"They're not mushy, are they?"
"What?"
"The cakes? Mushy?"
Blu shook his head. "No."
"Then I'm sure I'll like them."
She was suddenly ahead of him, out of the boat and on her way to the front door. Blu followed with one sure-footed leap to the dock that put him a half stride behind her. His eyes locked on her jeans-clad backside and he took a moment to appreciate the small perfect shape, then his mind was moving on, remembering a few nights ago when she was straddling him and … driving him, his hands all over her satin-smooth curves.
In an instant he was stone-hard, the memory kick-starting his heart rate and sending his blood on another race throughout his body.
The reality was that he wanted her again. Badly. Now. In an hour. After midnight. Tomorrow. The next day, and the next. It didn't matter when or where, or how often, Blu decided, he would never be able to get enough of her. She was flowing through his veins now. He was definitely struggling with the physical end of loving her, but it went a whole lot deeper. While one side of his brain wanted to keep Angel in his bed twenty-four hours a day, the other side wanted to keep his promise to her to send Maland to hell and set her free—free as a bird.
And as birds so often do, they fly away. Blu admitted he wasn't ready for that, but he would have to be, because the one thing he was going to do was put Angel's needs first.
He caught up to her on the slat-board steps and they scaled them together. He opened the screen door and as he ushered her inside, he took a quick glance around the plain dining room. Most of the tables were taken, but a few remained. There was loud music with a Cajun flavor coming from the back room, and Blu bent his head to Angel's ear. "You pick," he instructed, then followed her as she chose an out-of-the-way spot near a window that overlooked Paradise Point.
They settled into their chairs. A waitress appeared a minute later, delivering water and menus. When she returned, Angel ordered crab cakes, and Blu chose the barbecue ribs and s
weet-potato fries. Alone again, she said, "So why am I here, Blu Devil? For what reason have you decided to take a married woman with a child and no memory out to supper?"
She was back to using his nickname and it irritated Blu more than he would have liked. "We need to talk," he drawled. "To settle this."
"'This'? Which 'this' are we talking about?"
She was too cold suddenly. Blu reached out and stole her hand. "Dammit, stop going for my throat, and listen."
She pulled her hand away and tucked it in her lap beneath the table. "You left, damn you. You said you wouldn't, and then you turned and left. Well, I'm going to leave, too."
Her face revealed her disappointment, how much his leaving had hurt her. As youth often does, she had vented quickly and openly.
It made Blu feel worse than he already did. "Yesterday I went out for some air and when I got back you were gone. I know it looked like I was walking, but I never—"
"Liar."
Blu swore softly. "I needed air. It was a helluva shock, dammit."
She stared out the window. "Imagine lying in a stranger's bed and being told that kind of news. Then learning a few weeks later that you're pregnant." She faced him again. "Yes, I'd say, it was a helluva shock."
Her point hit Blu square between the eyes, and he felt like a royal ass. He reached out and snared her other hand—the vulnerable one she hadn't buried in her lap. He brought it to his lips and, forgetting that the Blu Devil didn't kiss in public any more than he smiled, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, baby."
It was at that exact moment that Curt Aldwin stepped into the dining room. Blu caught sight of Angel's brother out of the corner of his eye while his lips were still pressed against her hand. He released her slowly, watching as Curt's gaze locked on him, then shifted to his sister. On recognition, his face turned the color of a corpse ready for the morgue. He scrambled for the back hall moments later.
Blu knew where the hall led. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He eyed Angel a moment, added, "Say you'll be here when I get back."
"I'll be here. You said the crab cakes weren't mushy."
Her comment made him smile, but by the time Blu had made it down the back hall he was stone sober. He found Angel's brother in the bathroom splashing cold water on his face. As Curt looked up from the sink, Blu's image filled the mirror.
"Oh, Jesus!"
"You don't look so good, Curt. You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"How did you get hold of her? Does she know that I—"
"That you sold her out?" Blu's eyes turned black.
"He said she would have everything she could ever want. That she'd live like a princess."
"Keep singing." Blu put his hands on Curt's scrawny shoulders and squeezed.
"Okay, I accepted money. I admit it. I needed the cash, dammit!"
Blu squeezed harder. "Keep talking."
"Ah-hh! I—I told Maland when and where she would be on the water with Ben that day. But I swear, I wasn't involved in killing Ben. I didn't know about that until after. I swear!"
So it hadn't been an accident, after all. The storm had blown in at the right time. Salva had gotten lucky. Blu dug his thumbs into the cords of Curt's neck. "How much did you sell her for, you bastard?"
Curt groaned, blinked to stay conscious. "Twenty! Twenty thousand. You're dead," he gasped in pain. "You put Salva's brother in prison. Now you're messing with his property. You're so dead."
Blu felt an overwhelming urge to break every bone in Curt Aldwin's body. But that didn't fit into his plans, and so he settled for a left to Curt's midsection. Angel's brother crumbled like a dry muffin. Then he half lifted, half dragged Curt into a bathroom stall and slammed him down on the toilet. "You stay there, Curt. Don't go nowhere. Someone's going to come and take you for a ride. You be sitting right there when he shows up, understand? Or do you want me to break both your knees to make sure?"
"Oh, God! Oh, Jesus! I'm going to be sick!"
Blu stepped back as Curt leaned over and puked. Smiling inside, he decided there were days when he did enjoy being the Blu Devil.
"I'll stay," Curt promised, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and holding his stomach as he hung on the edge of the toilet seat. "I'll stay."
"You're smart, Curt. That is, for a dumb little son of a bitch. You better start praying that things turn out my way from here on out, or you'll be scraping more up off the floor than your liver. You think about that while you're waiting for my friend."
Blu used the phone in the hall, then returned to the table. Five minutes later he watched as Brodie Hewitt sauntered into the eatery and made his way to the men's bathroom at Smokey Joe's.
As muscular as Blu, but not quite as tall, the foreman for the duFray Devils took one look at Curt, then swallowed the toothpick he was picking apart with his teeth. "You should have flushed yourself, boy, while you had the chance. It might have been a tight fit, but where you're goin', the smell's twice as ripe."
* * *
Life's a dance, Krissy. You keep moving and don't look back. Just keep moving. Dance forward, Krissy. Always dance forward.
Kristen had just finished her crab cakes when the voice—an aging male voice—recited the words inside her head. She sat back and let the plain-spoken words send a shiver up her spine. She knew the voice, knew it for its comfort capabilities. But there was no face or name to go with the liquid-warm comfort that wrapped around her heart.
She glanced around, wondering if this place had opened up a memory vein inside her head, but there was nothing else. Nothing.
"Angel? Did you hear me?"
Kristen shoved her braid off her shoulder and focused on Blu. "I heard. You want me to let you call the shots for the next forty-eight hours. Why?"
"I'm waiting on some information. It's going to take a couple of days to hear back."
"Information?" Kristen couldn't help but look surprised. "From who?"
"I can't say."
She glanced at the bandage on his arm, then the faint red mark still on his neck. Suddenly Kristen understood. Blu had called her naive. And she had been until now. "How do I know you're not lying just to keep me in town?"
"And why would I do that?"
Kristen didn't have an answer.
"I told you before—"
She cut in. "You told me that you're the right man to trust. I know what you said. But you didn't tell me why. What makes you so special, Blu Devil? Why should I trust you over anyone else? Come on, tough guy, what's your secret?"
She waited for him to tell her, but she knew he wasn't going to. For some reason he didn't want her to know about his past. Why?
"Give me two days."
"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
"No. I don't think I mentioned Tiny yesterday. He was the guy at Lema's we named the Hulk. Remember?"
"You don't have to explain about Tiny. Sister Marian already told me about her brother and why he was chasing after me that night you…" Kristen hesitated because all she could think of to say was That night you kissed me. And she wasn't going to mention anything physical that they had shared. Finally she said, "Sister Marian said she sent him after me to watch my backside. Ah, I mean…"
One of his dark eyebrows arched, then he did something totally unexpected—he smiled again. "Did you tell the good sister it wasn't necessary? That you already have the Devil watching your backside?"
Kristen glanced around and caught several women watching them—or rather, watching him. Their sudden interest was more than just mild curiosity, and she knew why—Blu's smile was breathtaking. The women were as surprised and fascinated by the sexy smile as she was. She said, "Close your mouth."
"What?"
Kristen didn't want him to know she was having a moment of jealous rage, so she tried for sarcasm. "I don't think this crowd is used to being blinded by the sight of your teeth."
She had no reason to feel the slightest bit jealous. Feeling possessive of him
was just plain stupid. To hide what she was feeling, Kristen directed her gaze out the window.
"What's wrong?"
She could feel the heat from his eyes, knew he expected her to answer. Well, that was too bad—she preferred to continue to stare out the window in silence.
"Angel?" His hand reached out and took hold of her chin and gently turned her back to face him. "You've got that look again."
Kristen knocked his hand away. "That look again? What look is 'that look'?"
"It's the look that goes with that voice. It's the one that tells me we're not communicating on the same level."
"Oh, I don't know. Your communication skills appear to be fine. Just ask those women at the next table. They can't take their eyes off you."
He was smiling again, and too late, Kristen realized she'd allowed her jealousy to reveal too much.
"You ready to get out of here?"
"And go where?" Her voice still sounded like "that voice."
"Somewhere I can kiss you without anybody watching."
"What?"
Kristen didn't remember getting to her feet. She vaguely recalled Blu paying the bill and leaving a tip for the waitress. Then they were through the door, walking side by side toward the Nightwing.
Twenty minutes later Blu dropped anchor in a cozy little bay away from the outside world. The sun had set and what remained was a pale pink sky that promised calm waters and a warm night. Kristen stood at the railing, knowing what was about to happen.
She watched him come toward her. He said, "About that kiss you promised…"
Kristen felt her stomach tighten, felt her entire body turn warm and anxious. "Blu…"
"Shh. We'll talk later." He brushed her braid off her shoulder and dipped his head. "Right now I need this…" He kissed her slow and careful, his hands wrapping around her. He moved his lips over her jaw, along her neck, dragged her closer into his heat. Kristen could feel him, hard and throbbing against her. She moaned, then gasped when he gyrated his hips to brand her with his hunger. "I need tonight," he whispered. "I've never needed anyone or anything in my life, Angel. But tonight, I need you. Say yes, baby. Let me love you."
