Perhaps she needed to accept the brief moment between them, though passionate, was due to their temporary situation. In reality, it likely meant nothing at all. But even while she resigned herself to the strong possibility, emotions of another kind warred inside her.
As she walked back to the living room, her eye caught something lying near his boots. A closer look revealed a small photograph wedged against the wall. She plucked it from its place and glanced at the bathroom door before focusing on the picture. She wiped away a bit of dirt from one corner and studied it, noting a beautiful, smiling woman snuggled close to a young boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, every bit the color of Shado’s. Perhaps it was his nephew, the one in the other photo, now grown, but in that one, there was no woman. Was this perhaps his former wife or maybe a lover? Whoever took the picture was someone dear to the subjects by virtue of their wide smiles and blatant looks of love on their faces. She felt an awkward sense of betrayal, confused by her thoughts and out-of-place emotions of feeling special and yet so alone at the same time. Strange goings on she could no more explain than she could the intense feelings she was developing for Shado. Would she one day awaken to realize this was all a fantasy contrived of her own desire to find happiness?
The water shut off, summoning her from her reverie. Fearful he might find her with the picture, she gingerly dropped it where she’d found it and hurried, teacup in hand, to his chair.
“Was there a morning paper?” He walked into the hallway with a towel around his waist, rubbing a smaller one over his wet hair.
“I forgot to check,” she said, heading to the door. She loved to take her time going through each page, reading the ads, learning about what was going on in the world, and though much of it was beyond her comprehension, it made her feel somehow better connected. Her heart stopped when she saw him waiting expectantly, looking at her in his half-naked form.
“You’re not making this easy,” she admonished, pinning him with a look.
As though suddenly realizing his lack of clothing, he stepped back into the bathroom. She shook her head and rose on her tiptoes to peek through the small hole as he’d so carefully instructed her—repeatedly.
“Look through the peephole first.” He popped his head around the door to remind her.
Most days, she saw the hallway, with a clear shot of Miss Brisbee’s apartment and the stairway. What she saw terrified her, and she waved her hand to Shado. Looking again, she got a better glimpse of a person dressed in dark clothing and wearing a strange mask. Where was he? When he didn’t respond, she waved again and this time her hand hit something and she grabbed it. Angel turned her head in time to realize his towel dangled from her fingertips and to meet Shado’s startled expression. Keeping her eyes to his, she handed the towel back and focused on the peephole. “There’s a man outside,” she whispered. He tapped her shoulder.
“Stand back,” he mouthed. He retrieved the gun from his holster under his coat and motioned her behind him.
Angel’s insides quaked as she pressed her body against the wall and waited. A shriek escaped her when he jerked open the door and dropped to one knee, his gun aimed on the person outside.
“What the fu—” a deep voice yelled from the hallway. “I could have been the UPS man, Jackson. For God’s sake, I can see up your towel, man. Put your gun away, and I mean it literally.”
“I wasn’t expecting the UPS man.” Shado shot to his feet and secured the towel tighter around him. He clicked on the safety, checked the hall, and closed the door after the man stepped into the room.
“Clearly. Nice to see you too, but for the record that’s more than I care to see.” A large man, dressed in a heavy parka and wearing a stocking hat over half his face, stood looking around the room. “Captain sent me over with more mug shots. He must have figured if you were going to be in all day you’d have more time to go through them.” He glanced over his shoulder at Angel, who stood frozen to the wall. The whirlwind of flashing towels and guns had left her a bit stupefied.
“How are you doin’?” He set the books on the coffee table and then turned and took off his gloves. “Are you okay? You look like maybe you should sit down.”
“Maybe because you scared the crap out of us both?” Shado interjected as he walked around Gleason and reached for her. “Come on, sit down. Everything’s fine.”
She took comfort in his touch on her elbow. He handed the teacup to her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He looked at Shado, eying his lack of clothing. “Did I interrupt something?”
Shado shot him a look. “I was just getting out of the shower when Angel noticed a stranger lurking at the front door. I didn’t exactly have time to dress for the occasion,” he responded, putting away his gun.
“Why don’t you go throw some pants on, then? We’ll sit here and visit.”
Angel noted the slight hesitation before Shado turned and headed to his bedroom. Knowing it was only Detective Gleason, she took a calming breath and offered him a smile. “It’s nice to see you again, Detective. How is your arm feeling?”
He removed his coat and sat across from her on what she’d learned was called a couch. “Oh, fine, ma’am. Just a little flesh wound. Thanks for asking.”
Angel nodded and took a sip of her tea. She sensed him looking at her. “Was there something you wished to ask me?”
He cleared his throat and glanced at his clasped hands. “Well now, there are a couple of questions the captain would like answered, yes, ma’am.”
“If he thinks I had anything to do with killing that poor man, you can tell him with all certainty the answer is no.”
He nodded as he listened. “I’m quite sure you’re correct, but there’s a question or two we can’t seem to find an answer for.”
“Such as?”
“Well, there’s the matter of what you were doing at the Imperial. Was there someone you were supposed to meet?”
“No, I don’t know anyone who works there now.”
He lifted a brow and peered at her. “Meaning you used to know someone who worked there?”
“I can’t say. I don’t think so,” she responded hesitantly. Would Detective Gleason understand the notion of traveling through time any better than Shado would? She licked her lips and tried to unravel the tangled mess she found herself in. “Meaning I used to work in a hotel, once upon a time.”
“Oh, and where was that?” He took out a small notebook and jotted down notes.
“Near Deadwater Gulch.” She took a sip of tea and hoped her response would end his questions, but he was persistent.
“Oh, one of the old mining towns? Up there near Virginia City, right?”
She nodded, trying to remember the small hand-drawn map in the book. Her eyes darted to where it lay beneath the pile he’d placed on the coffee table. “Always wanted to take Marla up there. Thought it looked like fun.” “Marla?” she asked, grateful to change the subject.
“Oh, my wife. She loves the Old West. Guess that’s how this Texas boy got so lucky.” He smiled and it was warm, friendly. “So, you come down to Reno a lot?” His gaze wandered around the room before landing back on her.
“This is the first time I’ve been here, to my recollection.”
“Of course. And you came alone?”
She nodded and glanced down the hall. “As far as I know, I did. My memory is still a little sketchy.”
“Oh yeah,” he agreed, tapping his notebook. “You don’t remember, I suppose, how you got here? Did you take a bus, fly?”
“Fly?” His comment genuinely caught her off guard. She stared at him as though he’d grown two heads.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Some folks don’t care for it, I guess.”
Though Angel desperately wanted to ask how it was at all possible, she thought it better to wait until she sorted out a few more details of her past first. “I guess I don’t.” She smiled politely.
He paused, making a funny clicking so
und from the corner of his mouth. “So you’re saying all you can remember is waking up at the musical?”
“Where they were playing songs by Billy?” That she remembered. She would like to find Billy and ask if he knew her.
“Yep.”
“I wish I could talk to him.”
He frowned. “Talk to who?”
“Well, Billy of course.”
Detective Gleason shrugged. “I suspect you might have to stand in line.”
“Do you think it would take long? I really think meeting him might help me.”
He studied her with a narrow scowl, causing her to shift in her seat. With a
sigh, he stood and tucked his notebook in his pocket. “Well if there’s
anything— anything at all you can remember, you be sure to tell Shado or me,
ya hear?”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded.
“Is there anything else I can do for you then before I go?”
Angel glanced out at the white landscape and rose to retrieve a mixing bowl
from the kitchen. “If you wouldn’t mind fetching me some fresh snow, I’d be
grateful. Shado doesn’t like me hanging out the window.”
He tugged on his stretchy hat and plucked the bowl from her. “Well now, we can’t have you worrying the old man. Let me go get you some. Be right back.”
A few moments later he returned with a heaping helping of glittering snow.
“There you are, ma’am. No charge. Dare I ask what you plan to do with this?” “Dessert for Shado, Detective.”
He chuckled. “I had a grandma who used to make us maple snow.” He gave her a wink. “That wasn’t all we did with it, either. I spent plenty of time in the corner for throwing the damn stuff in the house.” He started down the steps, offering her a wave. “Tell him I’ll talk to him later.”
Chapter Six
Shado returned, freshly shaven, sporting his favorite sweatshirt and jeans. He’d taken a moment to call the airline and verify the flight he’d booked Penny and Danny Jr. on was on time. He started past the kitchen, stopping when he saw her seated at the table with a giant bowl. She smiled up at him as he stood in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder toward the living room. “Where’d you get that? Did Gleason leave?”
Angel nodded. “He asked me to tell you he’d call you later, but he was kind enough to bring me some fresh snow before he left. He remembers getting this as a treat when he visited his grandmother’s place.”
“I always found him a bit on the strange side.”
“Come on, you should try it.” She held a spoon out to him.
“You might not want to know what’s probably in this.” He eased into the chair across the table from her. Though he refused to hide the grimace on his face, he accepted the spoon anyway.
“It’s from the sky; what could possibly be in it?” Her expression, bless her innocent heart, was sincerely perplexed.
“Yeah, well that’s another story.” He chuckled.
“Besides, Detective Gleason assured me he took it from a fresh drift.” “Ah.” He raised his brow.
She picked up a container of maple syrup and began to make delicate scrolls in the compacted snow. Her voice grew soft as she continued, “When I was small, mama used to gather us around the table near the fire. It was enough to keep the cabin cozy and warm. But then we had to move again. Papa was always moving us—” She stopped suddenly and looked startled. “Where did that come from?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. It sounds like maybe you’re remembering an old movie.”
She looked down, averting her gaze from his. “That’s probably what it was—an old movie.”
Instinct, experience in talking to suspects caused an odd twitch in his gut as though she wasn’t telling him everything. Maybe he didn’t want to know. “So, how do you eat this? And you’re going first, by the way.” He pointed at the bowl.
She dug her spoon into the icy crystallized maple sugar and lifted it, dropping it in her mouth. She swallowed, her eyes growing wide as it slid down her throat.
“It’s much better with real syrup.” She grinned.
“You must have had a charmed childhood. The real stuff costs an arm and a leg.” He eyed the concoction warily. “You’re sure about this?”
“As you can see, it didn’t hurt me.”
He gave her a skeptical look and stuffed in a frigid spoonful. “This is considered a treat?” he mumbled through the melting slush.
Angel chuckled and scooped up more, taking smaller nibbles, savoring it. His eyes traveled to her lips, remembering her taste.
He took another bite, swallowing the frozen lump, and felt it all but sizzle down his throat.
A mischievous grin appeared on her face. She grabbed some of the white fluff and playfully tossed it at his chest. “I don’t imagine you had snowball fights either, did you?”
“Now you’ve crossed the line. You really shouldn’t have done that.” He grinned. A twinge of childhood glee bubbled through the cracks of his tough hide. “Life is too short for all the ‘should-nots.’ Maybe you need to have more
‘shoulds’ in your life.” She smiled, glancing at him as she lifted another bite to her lips.
Without a word, he reached into the bowl and scooped up the fresh snow, careful to avoid the syrup. He leaned back, balling it tightly as he watched her.
“You need a head start?”
Her eyes glittered with challenge and then she squealed, pushing from the table and dropping a towel over his head, temporarily blinding him as she rushed past him out of the kitchen.
He grabbed for her, missing her as his chair tipped over backward. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed another handful and nearly slipped as he ran after her. Twin urges, erotic and competitive, drove him forward. He caught a glimpse of her as she headed for his bedroom. “You have no place to run.” His gaze locked with hers as she turned and slammed the door. With the frozen ball dripping through his fingers, he shoved his shoulder against the door. “Don’t you—” His warning blatantly signaled his next challenge.
A click sounded. She’d turned the lock.
This called for quick thinking and in the end, he had three choices—break down the barrier between them, wait it out until she had to use the bathroom, or simply climb out onto the fire escape and go in through the bedroom window. With the snowball dissolving quickly, there wasn’t much time. He turned on his heel and made a beeline for the bathroom. He shoved open the sash and met a spray of snow swept up by a bitter wind through the alleyway. The cold air sliced through his clothing and for a moment he considered how dangerous this was, how ridiculous perhaps, but she had a way of seeing life—maybe through the innocence of her memory loss—which was hypnotizing to his lonely existence. The simple act of laughing and having fun was something he hadn’t experienced in ages. He climbed over the railing and knelt in front of the bedroom window, freezing his ass off, but grinning from ear to ear. The snowball in his hand was nearly melted, so he grabbed a handful from the fluffy drift outside the window. Carefully, he eased the bedroom sash up, glad for the first time he hadn’t yet fixed the lock on it. He slid into the room just in time to see her surprised look when she turned from the door and saw him.
“How did you—?” She reached for the knob, frantically working at the lock.
“You can run, but you can’t hide.” He chuckled and patted the new snow between his hands.
Her gaze darted around the room before locking to his.
He grinned.
“I bet you say that often.” She dove under his arm and leapt onto his bed, grabbing a pillow to serve as a shield.
Damn, it felt good to let loose. He thought of days when he and his brother would drive their mom crazy with such antics. “You can’t run, Angel. You’re mine now.”
It had always been Danny who was the fastest, the strongest—
He lurched forward across the end of the bed, grabbed her ankle and in one moti
on had her flat on her back. The bed bounced, shifting the mattress, and her laughter filled the dark shadows of his heart, spawning memories of childlike joy in its resonance.
In vain, she tried to hold him off, but her incessant laughter was her greatest weakness. She gasped for breath, pleading with him between giggles. He managed to wrench the hem of her shirt out of her grip and slid his chilled hand beneath, holding the snow against her belly as she squirmed.
“Not fair,” she squealed batting at his arm.
For no reason, good or bad, he lowered his head and captured her mouth. Maybe he wanted to transfer some of her lightheartedness into his tormented soul. It occurred to him as his mouth insistently held to hers, despite her repeated attempts to move his hand from under her shirt, that she’d brought more joy to his life in the past few days than he could remember in recent months.
Her fighting stopped and she curled her arms around his neck, deepening the kisses he offered. Laughter gave way to throaty sounds of pleasure, and once again, he was drawn to how freely she enjoyed every moment. How did she do it? It was as though she filled a void long kept dark in his life. Her skin beneath his palm felt like heaven, warm and smooth as though it were a wonderland of delight made just for him.
Angel tugged at his shirt, frantic in her efforts. There was no question she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Simple ethics cautioned him to touch her was wrong—to enjoy it, more so—but nothing else mattered. He rose to his knees and peeled off his shirt, then hers, tossing them aside and making a hasty return to the sanctuary of her lips. God, he could lose himself in her. He held her sweet face in his hands. “I’ve never wanted a woman so much.”
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