ROYAL'S CHILD

by Sharon Sala

  Roman couldn't think what to say. There was no disputing the fact that the pink dress she was wearing was old and fading, but the wide band of blue and green embroidery around the hem of the skirt was impossible to mistake. With her hair around her face and her feet brown and bare, she was the angel in Maddie's drawing come to life.

  Royal looked at the drawing and then at Angel, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "How?" he muttered.

  She shrugged. "Ask your daughter. She seems tuned in to what's happening."

  Maddie beamed. She didn't really understand everything that was being said, but she sensed her father's capitulation.

  "Angel is going to be our new keeper, isn't she, Daddy?"

  Royal didn't know how to answer. Common sense told him this might be the most foolish thing he'd ever done, but instinct was leading him in another direction. He didn't understand a damn thing that was going on, but in his gut, it felt right. He took a deep breath and then stared Angel Rojas straight in the face.

  "Are you interested in the job?" he asked.

  Angel's chin lifted defiantly. "Are you offering?"

  Royal almost grinned. Damned if he didn't like her spunk.

  Roman couldn't remain silent. Ever the private investigator, he interjected, "What about references?"

  Angel's stare hardened as her gaze moved to Royal's brother. It was all she could do to keep her voice civil.

  "Well, shoot," she drawled. "I must have left my résumé in my other pocket. However, I can give you names and places of where I've worked. You can call any or all of them about me."

  Royal interrupted Roman before he could answer. "This is my daughter, my house, my business," he said shortly. "If there's any calling to be done, I'll be the one doing it."

  Roman recognized the anger and authority in his brother's voice and took a mental step back.

  "Well, now," he said softly, looking at Maddie. "I think it's time I went back to work. Come here, Little Bit, and give me a goodbye kiss."

  Maddie giggled as Roman lifted her and swung her around before kissing her soundly on the cheek. Then he nodded to his brother and started toward his car. Just before he got inside, he paused and turned, as if he'd forgotten something.

  To Angel's surprise, he was almost grinning as he tipped his hat to her.

  "What was that all about?" she asked Royal as Roman drove away.

  Royal gave her a long, considering look. "That was my brother's way of butting out of my business."

  She nodded and then gave Royal a cool stare. "So, do you want those names and phone numbers or not?"

  "Yes, I suppose I do."

  His answer was just shy of rude, and Angel could have taken affront, but she chose to consider the source. Royal Justice seemed to be a man who made his own rules, and that she understood.

  "I need a pen and some paper," she said.

  "I'll get them!" Maddie cried, and bolted into the house, leaving Angel and Royal alone on the porch.

  "Do you know what you're doing?" Angel asked.

  A muscle jerked at the side of Royal's jaw. "Hell, no."

  "Then why do it?" Angel asked.

  Royal almost grinned. "I learned a long time ago that when it comes to dealing with women, I don't have to understand. I just follow my instincts."

  His answer surprised her, and because she sensed it was an honest one, it compelled her to answer in kind.

  "Look, Mr. Justice…"

  "Royal," he corrected.

  She took a deep breath. "Royal."

  He nodded.

  "As I was going to say … I am overwhelmed by your daughter's insight, and I promise I will not deceive you or let Maddie down. If the time comes when I think I should go, I'll tell you."

  For a moment, Royal was silent. Finally, he nodded.

  "Fair enough," he said. Then his features hardened. "But I warn you, mess with what's mine and you'll be worse than sorry."

  A shiver slid down the middle of Angel's back. "Fair enough," she echoed.

  Royal shifted, then headed for the house. "So, let's go see where Maddie has gone. If she found the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, she's already forgotten what she went inside to do."

  * * *

  The city limits of Abilene were dead ahead when Tommy Boy Watson began to slow down. He'd been driving almost nonstop since passing through Dallas and points west. He'd seen the inside of more truck stop cafés than he cared to think about, and still no sign of that dark-haired whore. He had the beginnings of a headache, and his butt was numb from sitting so long in one place. His left leg, which he'd broken some years back, was aching in the place where it had healed. He hated to admit it, but he was going to give up the search. He kept telling himself it would be all right. That there were plenty of others like her out here on the highways for him to take out. Thanks to his efforts, the population of highway hookers was already down. Eight less, to be exact. He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and grinned.

  And he was just getting started.

  Ahead, the familiar sight of a Texas highway patrol car was visible. Tommy Boy admired cops. He often dreamed of being one. To Tommy Boy, there was power in packing a gun. He liked the look of bulletproof vests beneath their starched uniforms, thinking it gave them the appearance of wearing armor, like the knights of old.

  He tipped his hat as he passed the parked patrol car. To his delight, the trooper nodded. Although the connection they'd made was impersonal, he was still grinning when he pulled into the parking lot of a small motel. In his mind, their occupations were similar. The police protected the public from criminals. Tommy Boy protected innocent men from the wiles of evil women.

  All he needed was some food in his belly and a good night's rest. That would put that damned black-haired witch out of his mind once and for all. Besides, there were plenty of whores still left who needed cleansing.

  Having decided on a plan of action, Tommy Boy paid for his room and strolled across the parking lot to a nearby café. To his delight, when he got inside, he saw two troopers sitting in a booth, eating their meal. Their clean-cut appearances and steely-eyed gazes gave him a sense of well-being. He shifted his stride to a swagger and nodded and smiled as he passed them by, then took a seat where he could watch them eat. Although he admired them, he also felt a sense of superiority. To his knowledge, only four of the eight women he'd killed had been found, and there wasn't a single clue pointing to him. There sat those cops, dressed to shine and legally packing, and they still had no idea they were within spitting distance of the man responsible. He grinned.

  "What'll it be, mister?"

  Tommy Boy looked up as the waitress slid a glass of water in front of him.

  "What's good?" he asked.

  "Me, if you're lucky," she drawled, and then giggled.

  His hackles rose. Another pushy woman. Weren't there any decent women left in this world?

  "I'll have a burger and fries and coffee. Plenty of coffee," he said shortly.

  The waitress shrugged and walked away.

  "Bitch," he muttered. Moments later she was back. She poured his coffee without comment and slipped away as quietly as she'd come.

  His food came, and he ate it without relish, merely fueling his body. He gave the waitress another glance as he paid for his food, but she didn't bother to meet his gaze. He shrugged. It was just as well. He wasn't in the mood for cleansing. Not tonight. He craved sleep, not justice.

  As he strolled across the parking lot to his room, he prayed that the night would be his and his alone. He didn't need any visions from Daddy. Daddy had to understand. He was doing his best. He was keeping his promise. It was all he could do.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  Royal stared at the list Angel Rojas had given him, taking careful note of each job she'd held. The dates went back as far as eight years, and he had yet to find a person who had anything but good to say about her. And yet each time he'd asked why she
left their employ, none of them could give a clear answer.

  It would seem that there was a bit of Gypsy in Maddie's angel, and he didn't like that. He didn't want to set Maddie up to get hurt. How would Maddie react if, one day, the angel up and flew the proverbial coop?

  He looked at the list again. There was a discrepancy in the time frame. The two-year gap between her last job, at a sheriff's office in West Virginia, and her presence at his ranch bothered him.

  The sound of laughter caught his attention, and he glanced out the office window. Maddie was in the porch swing, lying on her stomach and trailing a piece of rope between the slats, while Flea Bit did body flips trying to catch the frayed end. Royal grinned, admitting only to himself that the damned cat did have its moments.

  Then he remembered the list. Before he gave Angel the go-ahead to hang up her clothes in his house, he needed some answers. Two years was a long time to have been out of work. There were too many things that could have occupied her time. She could have been married … or living with a man. He frowned again, letting his mind wander into all the possibilities as to why a relationship fails. But he was guessing. It didn't have to be a man. For all he knew, she could have been in jail.

  * * *

  Angel's clothes were clean and dry and spread out on the bed. She didn't know whether to put them in her bag or hang them in the closet. Everything hinged upon the final nod from Royal Justice. She'd given him the list of her past employers over two hours ago. He'd taken it without comment and disappeared into his office. Now she waited.

  It surprised her to realize how much she would really like to stay, but she'd learned years ago to do without things she couldn't have. Part of her had to admit that in spite of Maddie Justice's dreams, maybe this wasn't meant to be. Maybe Royal Justice would think she wasn't capable of caring for his daughter. She didn't have any experience in child care, but Angel didn't see that as a problem. Maddie was not a baby, she was a little girl—and Angel was a big girl. Somewhere within that concept there had to be common ground.

  She stood with her arms crossed and her face blank, waiting for a man she didn't know to pass judgment on her past.

  She stared out the window at the vast array of grassland that was the Justice ranch. Horses dotted the landscape, as did a herd of cattle on a distant hillside. The outbuildings were painted. The corral was in top repair. From where she was standing, there wasn't a single thing Royal Justice had left undone. He was a man in control of his world.

  Then she thought of his child. Whatever had driven Maddie Justice to this moment was beyond his control. And Angel knew that scared him. She'd seen it in his eyes. The uncertainty, the lack of understanding for a child who had visions. In a way, she sympathized. For a man so obviously used to being boss, he was struggling to find his center with a daughter who conjured up angels in dreams. But she had to give him credit. Not many men would have stopped on a highway in a thunderstorm to pick up a stranger, especially on the word of a child.

  Impulsively, she turned her back to the window and gazed around the room. It was without frills, but a place in which she could easily become comfortable. And then she sighed. She was past expecting miracles in her life, and even though she was at a loss to explain how Maddie had drawn a picture of her before they'd met, there was a feeling within her that said here was where she belonged. At least for the time being.

  Yes, she believed she could come to love the child. As for the work—caring for the house would be simple, easier in fact than a lot of jobs she'd had. But caring for the man? She wasn't sure it was something she could do, or for that matter should do. He was obviously well-to-do, single and far too handsome for his own good. Not, she reminded herself, that she was an easy mark. It had been years since she'd been stupid enough to fall for a good-looking man's lies, and it would be a cold day in hell before it happened again. But that didn't change the fact that she was human—and lonely. As lonely as a woman could be.

  Then a knock sounded at the door, and her thoughts scattered. She dropped her arms to her sides and lifted her chin, as if bracing herself for a blow.

  "Come in."

  Royal opened the door.

  "Got a minute?" he asked. "There's something I want to ask you about your list of references."

  "Ask away," she said. "I told you before, I have nothing to hide."

  Royal leaned against the doorjamb, trying to find a tactful way to ask what amounted to a personal question. He reminded himself his daughter's welfare was at stake, took a deep breath and let go.

  "So far, everything checks out," he said.

  Angel exhaled slowly, unaware until he said it that she'd been holding her breath. But he stood staring at her with that cold, blue gaze.

  "Why do I feel like you left out a but?"

  Royal thrust the list in her hands. "You tell me."

  She looked at it, frowning. "Tell you what?"

  "Have you ever been married?"

  Her eyebrows arched in surprise, but she answered without hesitation.

  "No."

  He glanced at the list, then at her. "The last name on this list is for a county sheriff in West Virginia."

  She didn't see where he was going. "That's true. So?"

  "So that was two years ago. What have you been doing since?"

  Understanding dawned. Her attitude shifted from accommodating to defiant within seconds.

  "Working at a place called Fat Louie's in Tuscaloosa, Alabama."

  Royal frowned. "Then why didn't you put the owner's name and number on the list?"

  "Because the only recommendation that bastard would give me is to go straight to hell."

  Royal arched his eyebrows and remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

  "Don't you want to know why?" Angel asked.

  "Do I need to?" he asked.

  Angel laughed, but it was a harsh, ugly sound that made the hair on the back of Royal's arms stand up.

  "Who knows what men need?" she said, then she sighed and shoved her hands through her hair, combing the thick, dark lengths from her face. "Sorry," she muttered. "He's a bastard."

  "What happened?"

  Angel gave Royal a long, considering look. "Why don't you call him and ask? I'd be curious to know how he explains the fact that I left him rolling on the floor with his hands between his legs."

  Shock swept through Royal, followed by a rage he hadn't expected. He kept staring at her, imagining her fending off the unwanted advances of some unknown man, and the thought made him sick.

  "Why?" he asked.

  Angel closed her eyes, picturing the endless months of fending off her boss's unwelcome advances. When she looked at Royal, there was a truth on her face that he couldn't ignore.

  "Because I got sick and tired of getting caught in corners. Every time I turned around he was grabbing at me, running his big fat hands all over my body and making innuendos about what it would take for me to keep my job."

  Royal's anger shifted to a darker, deeper place. "Did he—?"

  Angel's face was devoid of expression. "I believe they call it sexual harassment. I called it quits. He crossed a line. I put him on the floor."

  "But why didn't you press charges?" Royal asked.

  She snorted beneath her breath. "And who would believe me? Despite reports to the opposite, don't you know that it's always the woman's fault for leading the poor man on? Besides, people look at me and think wetback. It doesn't matter that I was born in Nevada. My skin is not lily-white. My eyes are dark, my hair is black. I have no family—no permanent home. I might as well have illegal tattooed on my forehead. People like me rarely find justice in a white man's world."

  Royal's face was flushed with anger. "Wait here," he said shortly. "I won't be long."

  Before Angel could speak, he was gone. She dropped to the corner of the bed and closed her eyes. Wait here? Where else could she go?

  A few minutes later Royal blindly punched in the numbers the long-distance operator had given him
, trying to picture what a man named Fat Louie would look like. When the phone began to ring, he took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the receiver. A few seconds later, a man's voice rumbled in his ear. It sounded thick and harsh from lack of sleep or too much of something from the night before.

  "Fat Louie's," the man said.

  "I need to speak to the owner," Royal countered.

  "That's me," Louie muttered. "Who's asking?"

  Royal stilled. Had the men been face to face, Fat Louie Tureau would have known to back off. But they weren't, and the anonymity of a stranger's voice wasn't enough warning for Louie to hold his tongue.

  "Royal Justice. I'm calling about a woman named Angel Rojas. I understand she used to work for you."

  A string of profanity, coupled with a harsh cigarette hack, reverberated in Royal's ear. About the only distinguishable words he heard were "the bitch" and "her kind."

  Although Royal narrowed his eyes, his voice remained calm.

  "Exactly what do you mean by … her kind?" he asked.

  Fat Louie spit. Royal heard the sound and almost hung up right then. Even if Angel had been lying through her teeth, this man was offensive enough to terminate the conversation. Still, Royal had Maddie to consider. He waited.

  "Damn wetback," Louie growled. "Do 'em a favor and they just up and quit on you."

  "I wasn't under the impression that she's an illegal."

  "Well, maybe not," Louie muttered. "But it don't hardly matter. She's still a Mex, and she quit without notice."

  Royal had known plenty of bigots in his life, and without ever having laid eyes on this man, Fat Louie from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, was about to win the prize.

  "Did she give a reason she terminated her employment?" Royal asked.

  There was a pause.

  It was enough for Royal. And when Fat Louie suddenly came back with a question instead of an answer, Royal knew she'd been telling the truth.

  "What did she say?" Louie asked.

  The corner of Royal's mouth turned upward just a little. "That she left you rolling on the floor and holding your crotch. Is that true?"