by Sharon Sala
But Royal wasn't the kind of man to dwell on the past. So he'd made a mistake. It wouldn't happen again.
He glanced toward the house in the valley. Maddie was little more than a dot on the landscape, but he knew it was her. He could tell by the way she kept darting to and fro that she must be playing with one of those cats. He didn't see Angel anywhere. But that didn't mean she wasn't there. He'd seen the look on Angel's face when Maddie had given her the flowers. It was an instant friends-for-life gesture if he'd ever seen one.
And then he frowned. But where did that leave him? After the stunt he'd pulled this morning, were they going to be enemies forever? Something within him rejected the thought. He did not want Angel Rojas for an enemy. His frown deepened and he looked away. But what did he want from her? He'd hired her as a housekeeper. Why did he keep pushing her buttons? Why couldn't he just let her be?
* * *
Angel sat in the porch swing, watching as Maddie played with Flea Bit and telling herself she should go inside and get supper started. She'd baked a cake earlier and she knew it was cooled enough to ice, yet moving from where she was sitting was the last thing she wanted to do. It was peaceful here. Peace was something she hadn't known in years. She brushed a fly from her face and smiled, then laughed as Maddie held up the cat for her to see. It was wearing a pink bonnet from Maddie's Cabbage Patch doll, and Angel could see something that looked suspiciously like cotton balls running the length of the animal's belly. She bit her lip and sighed. Oh, Lord. So that's where the bag of cotton balls went. She didn't even want to know how Maddie had stuck them on. If the cat was lucky, it was with glue. At least that could be cut away. If she'd taped them on, poor Flea Bit might be wearing them for quite a while.
She stood and walked into the driveway where Maddie was playing.
"What have you done to Flea Bit?"
Maddie danced the cat on its back legs and waved a front paw at Angel.
"Flea Bit's a clown. See? He has a hat and little fuzzy balls."
Angel bit her lip to keep from laughing. That remark was priceless. Aside from the cotton Maddie had glued to the cat, Flea Bit did have little fuzzy balls and, she hoped, a sense of humor.
"Yes, I see," Angel said. "But don't you think he's played enough? It's getting awfully hot out here. Why don't you take the costume off Flea Bit and come up on the porch. I'll get him some milk and you an ice-cream cone, okay?"
"Yeah!" Maddie cried, and tore the hat off Flea Bit's head.
Angel winced and made a grab for the cat before Maddie started pulling at the cotton she'd glued to its belly.
"Be careful, sweetheart. Here, let me help you."
To Angel's surprise and relief, she saw the cotton balls had been stuck on with mud rather than glue. A little dab of water from the hydrant by the porch and Flea Bit was as good as new.
"Go wash your hands," Angel said. "Then you can have your ice-cream cone."
Maddie frowned. "The ice cream always melts on my hands. I wanna wash my hands after I eat."
Angel shook her head. "So we'll wash them twice. Now scoot."
Maddie started to argue, but the idea of ice cream was enough to snuff out the thought.
"Be right back," she yelled, and dashed into the house.
Angel held the cat in the air, giving it a careful inspection to make sure it had suffered no harm. Everything was still in place.
"Poor kitty," she said softly, and set it on the porch. "If you have the guts, hang around a minute. I'll get you some milk."
The cat must have understood, because it was waiting beside the door when Angel came out with the small dish of milk.
"I'm ready for my ice cream," Maddie announced, displaying her still dripping hands for Angel's inspection.
"You sure are," Angel said, and started inside to get Maddie her treat. Maddie surprised her by hugging her bare legs.
"What's that for?" Angel asked, a little surprised and a little bit touched.
"’Cause I love you," Maddie said, and left Angel standing as she dashed into the house.
Angel watched through the screen door as Maddie shoved a chair to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door and began digging through the contents for her favorite flavor of ice cream.
Angel kept telling herself to move, that Maddie would make a mess before they even started, but she didn't trust herself to speak. There was a knot in her throat and tears burning the back of her eyes and she could still feel the imprint of Maddie's body against her legs.
Love. Oh, Lord. This wasn't in the job description.
Something clattered to the floor, and Maddie ducked beneath the open door of the freezer to see if Angel was watching. It was all the jump start Angel needed.
"Wait, Maddie. Let me help," she said, and hurried inside.
* * *
Royal closed the last gate, then turned and watched as the truck from the feed store drove away. He glanced up, gauging the gathering clouds against the fact that all the liquid fertilizer had been spread. And by the looks of the sky, none too soon. It would be just about perfect if they got a good rain tonight. Not too much. Just enough to soak that fertilizer right into the ground.
Then he looked at the house in the valley, squinting against the glare of a setting sun and wondering where everyone had gone. Probably inside where it was cool. The day had turned out much hotter than predicted. He gave the darkening sky one last look and headed home. He should be just about able to finish the chores before anything hit.
Angel was swirling the last spoonful of white icing on her cake while Maddie was at the kitchen table, coloring in one of her coloring books. It was a quiet, homey scene, idyllic from a bystander's point of view.
The evening news was being broadcast, and Angel listened halfheartedly to the portable television on a nearby sideboard, trying to make sense of what the newsman was saying in conjunction with the running commentary being given by Royal's princess.
"Look," Maddie cried, and held up her book, waiting for praise.
Angel glanced at the picture. "Wow, Maddie. That's very good. I'll bet when you start to school this fall you'll be one of the best in the class at coloring."
Maddie nodded, as if to say, of course she would, and turned to a new page, anxious to begin her next masterpiece.
Angel's attention moved to the sixteen-inch television. She frowned as the picture of a young brown-haired woman was flashed on the screen.
"…found in a culvert by a passing motorist who'd stopped to change a flat tire. Amarillo authorities have identified her as Carol Jo Belmont, who was last seen at the Big Wheel Truck Stop. Her throat had been slashed and—"
The back door opened and Angel pivoted, the icing-coated knife clutched in her hand. It was Royal.
"Daddy!" Maddie squealed and abandoned her crayons for her father's arms.
The instant pleasure on Royal's face was, for some reason, difficult to watch. She turned and laid the knife in the sink then reached for a paper towel to wipe her hands. When she turned, her composure was firmly in place.
"You're already back. I'm afraid supper's not quite ready."
"That's all right," Royal said. "From the way the clouds are building, I think I'd better finish the chores first."
Maddie suddenly tightened her hold around Royal's neck.
"Is it gonna rain, Daddy?"
Royal nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "I hope so. The grass needs a drink."
She frowned and wiggled to be put down. "I'd better make sure Marbles and Flea Bit will be all right. Maybe they should come inside with—"
"No, ma'am, maybe they better not," Royal stated firmly. "But you can come with me if you want to. You can put them to bed and tell them good-night, okay?"
Cakes and coloring books were quickly forgotten as Maddie dashed outside. Royal gave Angel a tentative glance.
"That looks good," he said. "Is it safe?"
She flushed and turned away in embarrassment, but she knew what he meant. Obviously the Ha
benero peppers had gotten his attention. She lifted her chin and turned, refusing to let him know that he often intimidated her. Innocence dripped from her voice as she stared him straight in the face.
"Why? Shouldn't it be?"
Royal grinned and held up his hands, as if to say, I give up. "Just asking," he said, and glanced at the television. "Been giving any weather bulletins?"
She shook her head.
"Put it on channel four," he said. "They update better than the others."
Angel nodded and switched channels. The bulletin she'd been listening to was forgotten as she turned up the volume and turned on the stove. It was time to finish the meal.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Supper was over, and Royal was giving Maddie her bath. Angel could hear the rumble of his voice and the childish squeals of Maddie's laughter as the evening routine played out. She knew that when it was over, there would be water on the floor and wet towels hanging from every hook, but it was something they both seemed to enjoy. While the hilarity was good, it reminded Angel that she was the outsider in this house.
At first she hadn't cared. In fact, she had welcomed the evenings to herself. The times when Royal was present and the duties of Maddie's keeper returned to the father, where they belonged, had been a welcome respite. But during the past few days, her feelings had begun to change. Instead of looking forward to the break in her routine, she began to dread it. Today was no exception.
She picked up a magazine and tossed it down, knowing she wouldn't be able to focus. Instead of turning on the television, she moved outside, choosing the old swing under a nearby oak tree rather than her usual place on the porch. She brushed off the seat, turned and sat, testing the length of her shorts against the wooden seat. Satisfied that they were long enough to prevent any splinters, she relaxed. Immediately, her shoes slid off her feet.
The rope from which the swing was hanging was thick but soft. Her fingers curled around its surface as she leaned back and pushed off. At once, the sensation of weightlessness took over, and she closed her eyes, letting herself go free. As she did, an old memory surfaced, one of standing at the side of a playground, watching as the other children in her class laughed and played. Even then she'd been set apart, by her ethnicity and the fact that the people she lived with were not her own. So she'd stood alone, wanting a turn on the swings but afraid to ask.
It had hurt then, not being one of the crowd. But now, after so many years on her own, it was her saving grace. She celebrated her differences. She did not mourn them. And she'd learned to appreciate her gifts rather than covet what she could not have.
Motion stirred the air, blowing bits of her hair into her eyes and then away from her face, plastering her T-shirt to the thrust of her breasts and caressing the backs of her bare legs as she continued to pump.
Back and forth.
Up and down.
Faster and faster.
Higher and higher.
When she opened her eyes, the world was flying past her in a blur of blue and gray shadows. She dropped her head forward and pulled up her legs, letting the momentum of her body move the swing.
Peace came then. With nothing but the soft whoosh of air against her ears and the beat of her heart for a rhythm, she began to slow down. Only after the swing was motionless did she become aware that she was no longer alone.
She felt his presence rather than saw him. When she looked up, he was standing on the porch steps with his hands stuffed in his pockets, watching.
She shuddered.
Dusk hid all but the outline of his body and face from her gaze, and yet she sensed the intensity of his scrutiny. She didn't know whether to acknowledge his presence or make her excuses and leave. She did neither. When he came off the steps, her first instinct was to stand. And when he started toward her, the urge to run was strong. He moved quietly but with purpose, his strides certain and even. She tightened her grasp on the ropes and tried to tell herself that it was safe. But the closer he came, the faster her heart began to beat and the shorter her breaths became.
Lord help me. "Was there something you needed?" she asked.
Royal paused. Her question was a verbal stop sign if he'd ever heard one.
"Maddie wants you to read her a story."
Angel's voice rose an octave in pleased surprise. "She does?"
"Yeah," Royal said. "I told her this was your time to yourself, but that I'd ask."
Angel stared at him through the growing dusk, trying to draw a conclusion as to how he felt about his daughter's request. But it was getting too dark, and he was standing too still.
"I don't mind … if you don't," she said.
Her answer surprised him. "Why would I mind?"
She shrugged. "Well, I know how much you enjoy this time with her. That it's your special time together. I don't want to intrude or force myself into the situation."
Royal sighed, and Angel heard it. His voice was tinged with exasperation as he answered.
"Look, if it bothered me, I wouldn't have asked you. Okay?"
She nodded, and realized he probably couldn't see her.
"Yes, sir," she said quickly, then slipped on her shoes and started toward the house.
Royal stepped in her path, then cursed beneath his breath when he heard her frightened gasp.
"Damn it, woman, quit calling me sir," he said shortly. "And stop shaking like a cornered rabbit. I am not going to hurt you."
Before Angel could answer, he pivoted and stalked away. Thankful for the cover of darkness, she lifted a shaky hand to her face and started toward the house. When she got to the door, she turned and looked into the yard, past the illuminated circle beneath the security light. Motionless, she stared into the darkness.
Nothing moved, but he was out there somewhere. Was he watching her, as he had before? She breathed slowly, as if by doing so she could hear his approach. Then she sighed. Maybe she was reading more into this than was there. He had a right to observe her behavior. After all, he was her employer. Then why, she wondered, did every instinct she had tell her it was more than observation? Why did she feel as if he was waiting to pounce?
She shivered then stepped back, and without taking her eyes from the darkness, closed the door between them.
Royal stared at the house and the woman who stood in his doorway as he leaned against the hood of his truck. When he realized she was looking for him, the skin crawled on the back of his neck. The intimacy of such a search made him think of things better left alone. Half the time these days he didn't know whether he was coming or going.
The other day he'd gone to town to get horse feed and came home with everything but. He made appointments and then forgot to keep them. Even worse, he was getting short-tempered with Maddie for no reason at all. She was just a little girl. She shouldn't have to suffer for whatever was going on in her daddy's head.
As he watched, Angel moved. He took a deep breath, holding it as she took a step back—exhaling as she closed the door between them. The tenuous tie between them was broken. He shuddered. There was a hunger within him that was growing more and more difficult to control.
At the oddest times, her image would move through his mind and he'd catch himself thinking of the way her body swayed as she walked, of the way she chewed on her lower lip when she was thinking, of how her right eyebrow arched when she was about to let her temper fly.
He grinned. Damn, but she did have a temper. He was still trying to get over the slander of "royal highness" and had nightmares about Habenero peppers in his toothpaste. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. It was well now, but it had peeled, just as he'd predicted.
He'd learned a lesson that day. He still wasn't sure what kind of a friend Angel Rojas might be, but he could vouch firsthand as to how fierce an enemy she would make.
In a way, that was where their bond was strongest. He lived his life without following rules, railing against fate when it suited him and defying propriety
to get something done his way. He respected independence. He admired passion. And from where he was standing, Maddie's angel had more than her share.
A faint rumble sounded in the distance. He looked at the sky, noting the absence of moon and stars. Clouds were gathering. Against the horizon, a single streak of lightning split the sky, like a fragile thread of silver. But it was soundless, too far away for worry. Chances were the rain would miss them.
He glanced at his watch. The luminous dial was a vivid reminder that morning always came far too soon. With a sigh, he pushed off from the truck and started toward the house. By now the story had surely been read. Maddie would be asleep. She always fell asleep in the middle of her bedtime story. And if he was smart, when he got inside the house, he'd go straight to his room and stay there. No more playing around with an angel's fire. Someone could get burned.
* * *
Amarillo wasn't all it was cracked up to be, at least not to Tommy Boy. It had been raining nonstop for the better part of two days. He'd been forced to stay holed up in this piss-poor room, waiting for the weather to clear. Yesterday he'd called his bank to check the balance in his checking account. It was getting low. Either he called a halt to his quest or he started working part-time jobs. He frowned as he considered his options. The promise he'd made to himself was getting out of hand. When he'd started this quest, the need to cleanse had burned within him. But with each woman who died, a little part of his anger died, too.
Nine women later, there was always the worry that the authorities might somehow connect the deaths. If that happened, his anonymity would be severely threatened. If the national media got wind of a serial killer, it would be over. He couldn't afford to let the FBI get involved. And yet there was a part of him that reveled in challenging the system, of getting away with the deeds. And the women who died had deserved it.
He'd traveled the same routes his daddy had taken. Unknowingly, he might have already taken out the woman who'd infected him. The possibility was remote, but it was there. He liked to think it had already happened.
