Angel’s Forecast

by J. J. Massa

  “Goodnight, mon ange,” he murmured huskily, letting his hand drop.

  Angel blinked at him for a moment. “Uh, goodnight,” she whispered, backing away until she came to the door and slipped out.

  Chapter Five

  Angel paced through the large house, stopping in front of windows, in doorways, staring sightlessly as she struggled with her unease. After the third circuit of the large house, she forced herself into the kitchen to put a kettle of water on to boil.

  Rifling through her utensils, she found a silver tea ball and filled it with dried Meadowsweet and Chamomile. Snapping the little ball closed, she hooked the chain through the handle of her favorite tea mug and waited for the water to boil.

  It didn’t take long for the shrill whistle of the steam escaping through the hole in the spout to jar her from her stupor. She poured a splash of boiling water over the ball to allow the tea to bloom, dumping out the dregs.

  That done, Angel filled the mug with boiling water and took it to her favorite place in the old house. Or out of the house, depending on one’s point of view. Like the tea, this part of her home soothed her.

  It was a courtyard of sorts, perhaps a grotto, with majestic `s hanging with Spanish moss, interspersed with banana trees, crepe myrtles, elephant ears, walled in mostly by low barriers that angled toward each other, never quite meeting.

  The weather was balmy, even in October, and the green growth and gentle breezes brought her comfort. Would Deke like it here? Didn’t he have his own home?

  He and his brother had agreed to the sale of their family’s old home, as she recalled. Ashlynn and Storm had grown up in her mother’s family’s home with her parents, Remy and Rayne, and her Grande Mamere, Madame Deveau.

  She gave herself a hard mental shake. She was once again avoiding the real issue.

  “Deke,” affirmed Rayne Deveau.

  Angel turned in her deep, cushiony garden chair, disbelieving. “Are you really here?” She couldn’t be sure. So many times she heard that beautiful voice talking to her.

  Seldom did she see the woman that went with it.

  “In the flesh,” smiled Rayne holding out a small mug. “Think you can share some of that with me? You took it all.”

  “Of course, Madame,” she stuttered, tipping a portion of her tea into the empty mug.

  “Rayne, please,” the older woman corrected, “We’re going to be sisters soon.”

  “I don’t—we don’t know.” Angel felt her face flame. She couldn’t look that far ahead—wouldn’t. “It’s odd, what with you being Ashlynn’s mama and all,” she said instead.

  “You were always around, but you ducked away. Very respectful, very selfsufficient.”

  Rayne gave her a warm smile. “I suppose that was because of yours and Gabriel’s parents dying when they did.”

  Angel shrugged. Her parents and Gabe’s were siblings who’d married siblings.

  Their death when Angel was in her teens had certainly taught her to look after herself.

  “Tante Marie liked me best when I was paying attention quietly. So I did.”

  “She had a lot of skill,” Rayne commented, taking a sip of her tea. “She was a hard woman, though.”

  “She was,” Angel nodded. “She didn’t…” she stopped, about to admit that her angry great-aunt hadn’t liked this sweet woman taking tea with her.

  “It’s okay,” Rayne smiled. “I wasn’t crazy about her, either.”

  Neither said a word for five full minutes, until Angel finally gave in. “You want to talk about me and Deke,” she mumbled into her tea mug.

  Rayne gave her a gentle smile. “Yes, I think you should, honey. I can’t blame you for feeling uncertain, maybe a little afraid. The Doucette men have testosterone in abundance. They are very strong-willed.”

  Angel grinned in spite of herself. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Are you nervous about anything in particular? Or just everything?” Rayne asked.

  “Um, that’s pretty broad,” Angel sighed. “But yeah, both. I’m nervous about what Deke expects from me. I really have avoided serious relationships with men.” She looked into Rayne’s eyes. “I was saving myself for that special man. I always knew it’d be a Cajun man.”

  Rayne patted her hand. “Of course you did, honey. And Deke, in spite of his bullheaded ways, is pretty special.”

  “That’s part of what I’m worried about, though,” Angel sat up straighter. “He’s bullheaded and he’d going to try to push me around some.”

  “Forewarned is fore-armed, Angel,” Rayne said quietly. “He is going to try to bully you. A certain amount of that is acceptable. You do however, get to decide when you will and won’t let him get away with it,” she winked.

  Angel giggled into her mug of tea. The idea that she could pick and choose when Deke could win and when he would lose an argument…that was a very attractive concept. She would consider that for awhile.

  “What about my—my spells and forecasting things? How do you think he’ll be about that? I don’t always know what’s going to happen with people, but sometimes I do. And I do use a lot of herbs and charms in my daily life.” If anyone had experience with this, it would be Rayne Doucette.

  “Sweetheart, I completely understand those fears. You should have seen Remy when we first got together. Right off the bat, he didn’t want to be The One. The fact that I had “powers” just made things worse.” Rayne shuddered, piquing Angel’s curiosity.

  “What happened?” She had to know.

  Rayne took a deep breath, biting her lip. “He called me a freak,” she said in a rush, taking a gulp of her tea.

  “Oh, wow!” Angel gasped.

  “I’ve never told anyone that,” Rayne confessed, adding, “But Deke tried to step in. He was always really accepting of my special talents.”

  “So it’s really not going to be that hard for him, then?” Angel reiterated, somewhat relieved.

  “No, Angel,” Rayne leveled an intent gaze on her. “It’s going to be hard for you. You have to adjust to his ways, too. It’s a two-way street.” Angel was confused, and sure that it showed on her face. “You’ve both lived alone for a long time. You both have friends, lives, full-time careers. You’re a caregiver, and he’s a law enforcement officer. Those are all things that have to be taken into consideration.”

  “Yeah,” Angel breathed, acknowledging the wisdom of Rayne’s statement. “I’m going to think about that awhile.”

  “You do that,” Rayne stood, leaning down to giver the younger woman a brief hug. “I’d better get back before my Grand-mère ends up marrying that doctor….or something less socially acceptable,” she winked. “I left a suitcase full of Deke’s clothes over by the foyer stairs,” she told Angel on her way out the door.

  ———

  There were men in the garden! Where was Deke? Angel was frantic, hiding in a little alcove just off the kitchen. She couldn’t just huddle in a corner like a frightened child. Her Dekon needed her. She needed him.

  He’d just gotten healed enough to move around. If they hurt him again…

  She felt the anger boil up inside her as she stepped around the tall bookshelf.

  Even the man she came face to face with didn’t scare her.

  That was her biggest problem, really. She was never afraid of the right things. He grabbed her by the hair and…

  Tears were running down Angel’s face as she tried to sit up. She couldn’t tell if they were the result of her dream or the fact that she’d somehow gotten her hair tangled in the handle of her night table. Usually, she put it up at night. This time, too much had been on her mind, she guessed.

  Either way, she was grateful. She didn’t want to know what happened next.

  Chapter Six

  Deke couldn’t believe how wearing it was, just getting dressed. Forget about riding down to the car in a wheelchair and then getting in. His brother had come and picked him up, though Angel had been there to sign him out.

&nb
sp; She needed to know the discharge instructions, nurse or not, but there was no way that Deke would be able to ride home in her low-slung corvette. He wouldn’t be able to drive his own SUV for several more weeks yet. He wouldn’t even be able to support more then the merest amount of weight on his right leg for weeks yet.

  While those items both annoyed him a great deal, this being weak and tired thing was driving him nuts. He wanted to be with Angel. Get to know her. Mostly, for the very short term, get to know what Angel was hiding.

  He’d gone to sleep the night before, thinking about the feelings he had about her now, as well as what he’d felt the first time he’d “met” her. He thought of that in quotes because, at the time, no formal introductions had been made.

  How had he missed making her acquaintance all these years that she’d been Ashlynn’s best friend? Another good question. There was just so much they did not know about each other. Was it a bad idea for him to go and stay with her now? Or would this be the best way for the two of them to get past this awkward stage in their relationship.

  He nearly chuckled aloud at that. Relationship. No way around it, though, they were in a relationship. Would he have sought her out if he hadn’t been shot? Yeah…he knew he would. She’d been on his mind ever since that first amazing kiss. Even he, simpleton that he was, knew there was something special there.

  Last night’s kiss was even more amazing. The passion that erupted every time he touched her—amazing. The feelings she stirred in him every time he laid eyes on her were overwhelming. She took his breath away. They were meant for each other, of that he had no doubt.

  Now, all he had to do was make sure Angel Baptiste agreed.

  “I know you ain’ asleep over there,” Remy rumbled from the driver’s seat. They’d stopped for a light, heading toward the edge of the parish. It would be hard for Deke to be so far from the action; the old Theroit place straddled both parishes. It was right on the bayou.

  “No, jus’ thinkin’,” he murmured, rolling his head toward his brother. “Cain’ believe how spent I’m feelin’ even so.”

  “You goanna be okay?” Remy asked, his deep voice concerned.

  Deke rolled his head toward Remy, opening his eyes a crack. “I am, never fret,” he promised. “I hate feeling like an old woman, though.”

  Remy snickered. “Don’ let Mamere Esmé hear you say dat!”

  “I only wish I felt as spry as that old woman do,” Deke chortled his agreement.

  “You got any idea how old she is now?”

  “Not a clue,” Remy shook his head. “An’ I think we should stop talking ‘bout her afore she visits some kind o’ spell or ‘nother on us.”

  “Amen to that,” Deke granted, leaning back against the headrest again.

  “So you goanna be okay out there with Angel?” Remy queried, studiously watching the road.

  “What, you think she’s goanna cook me up and eat me or something?” Deke looked over at his brother, not lifting his head.

  “I jus’ wanna make sure…” Remy broke off, slowing the SUV down somewhat.

  He changed lanes and picked up what he was saying. “…make sure that you’re accepting. Rayne says she has a…shine about her.”

  “Well, hell, I coulda told you that. Why you slowing down?” he sat up again, looking around.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Remy pulled over, turning to face his brother. At Deke’s raised brow, he added, “…much.”

  “Qui?” Deke looked at his brother and then at the direction in which he was staring. Remy had pulled out a pad and paper and was scribbling furiously on it.

  “Seemed like we were being followed,” he murmured, lifting his radio. “Antibe, run this tag,” he waited a moment.

  “Go ahead,” came Antibe’s crackly response.

  “Lima, Delta, deux, trois, sept, Charlie,” Remy called out the tag number, mixing numbers in his native language with the military alphabet code of each letter. “Cain’t tell the Parish, looked like state tags.” He waited again, Deke watching carefully.

  “What’s the make and model on that vehicle, Sheriff?” Antibe asked, faint sounds of keystrokes sounded in between the static.

  “Blue Dodge Ram,” Remy answered, “I’m not sure what year. Coulda been new. Shit, they all look the same anymore.”

  “S’truth,” Antibe and Deke answered at the same time.

  “Stolen rental car tags, Sheriff,” Antibe said after a pause. Without the static, his voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a barrel. “Registered to a—wait a sec…” Neither man spoke for a few minutes. “Lewis R. Carrier—a silver Ford Taurus, turns out. You want I should put out a pick-me-up for that tag?”

  “Yeah!” Deke and Remy both exclaimed as one.

  “Probably find it abandoned here in a few miles,” Deke murmured.

  “For true,” Remy sighed, annoyed. “He knows I made him.” He flicked his left turn signal, easing back into traffic. “Put it out anyway, Antibe,” he growled. “I’ll check in after I get Deke settled.”

  “Hey! Good to hear your voice, Deputy Dawg!” Antibe answered back excitedly.

  “I’m just glad you’re almost human again.”

  “You saying he ever was human to begin with?” Remy snapped playfully. He was trying to lighten things up, Deke could see that. But he could also see that his brother was still deeply troubled.

  Antibe laughed and signed off, leaving Deke and Remy essentially alone again.

  “So? You didn’t get a look at the guy?” Deke paused, “It was a guy, yeah?”

  “Naw, didn’t get a look,” Remy grumbled.

  “So you gonna tell me what is it you fearing?” he asked after a silence. Remy glanced at him and away, almost guiltily. “Merde, Remy! I’m fifty-one years old! Playing the big brother is…” he released a lungful of air, slowly, calming himself. Getting upset would only wear him out that much quicker. “If I need to know something,” he said in a more even tone, “I expect you to talk to me.”

  Remy swore under his breath. “I wanted a day or two longer, to be sure.” He pulled the car over to the side of the road again.

  Deke knew that Angel would be waiting for them, wondering what was taking so long. He’d deal with that when he got there. Maybe he’d distract her. He was sure he could come up with something. After all, he was injured and she was a nurse…not to mention the attraction they felt for each other. One thing at a time, though.

  “I wanted a pony when I was ten,” Deke answered blandly.

  “How about I buy you that pony and we just drive on?” Remy offered facetiously, a half-grin on his rugged, still handsome face.

  “It happens I ain’t ten anymore,” Deke returned the half-grin and waited, arms crossed.

  “You were un mal dans mon tcheue even then,” Remy mock-growled. A pain in his ass, huh? Deke raised a brow, smiling a little, but making it clear that he expected his brother to come clean.

  Remy sighed gustily. “Mais, seems one or two of them what shot you skipped bail.”

  Deke frowned. “I didn’t die, what’s the problem? It was pretty confusing there for awhile. Bullets flying ever-where. There’s enough reasonable doubt to get most of ‘em off in ten or less.”

  “That Yankee, his name was Melvin Sloan, anyhow, he did die. Ashlynn went through Federal Enforcement Internal Affairs investigation. They decided that they don’t care if she admits she killed him or not. Seems they’re charging all the illegal participants in that nursery operation with drug trafficking, murder, attempted murder, attempted murder of multiple law enforcement officials, attempted murder of a Fed…just on and on.” Remy ran a hand through his hair.

  “So Ashlynn’s in danger, yeah? What are you doing about it…” he stopped.

  Remy was shaking his head from side to side. What was he missing here?

  “They know they’re done…if they’re ever caught, that’s the end.”

  “Yeah?” Deke asked, confused.

  “It was
a family operation.” Deke rolled his eyes at that, and Remy huffed impatiently. “Not mafia or anything, blood family. Mr. Sloan had four sons and they were all there that night. They think you killed their old man. They don’t believe Ashlynn did it. They want revenge.”

  Chapter Seven

  Angel was alarmed at how pale Deke appeared when he finally arrived. She’d known at the hospital that something was coming their way, but had no idea what. If only her “forecasts” gave her more information…

  Remy was supposed to be following her. How hard could it be to follow a bright red corvette, anyway? She knew without a doubt that hers was the only one in the area.

  “Bring him in here,” she ordered, fighting to remain calm and unruffled, even as Remy helped his brother down from the truck.

  “I can do it,” Deke growled when Remy only handed him one crutch, supporting most of his weight when his feet touched the ground.

  “Please, Dekon,” Angel begged, not holding back any of the worry in her voice.

  “Let him help, just this once?” She wasn’t above a little emotional manipulation when he looked like someone had drained all the color from his face. It was part of her nature and her training to know when an order would work better than a sweet word. This time, she played to his concern for her.

  Remy took most of Deke’s weight, helping him up the porch stairs at the back of the house. The front led directly into the lower rooms—rooms Angel didn’t use much. In certain parts of Louisiana, especially near the ever-encroaching bayou, it was only wise to keep valuables well above the water table. The older homes were built so that the main rooms were on the second floor, more often than not.

  “Mayhap we should jus’ go straight into your bedroom, hoss?” Remy suggested, letting Angel get in front him to lead the way.