Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

by Janelle Denison

  J.T. caught his daughter in his arms. She bawled against his chest, her body trembling violently as she clung to him. Momentarily stunned, he tried to console and calm her with words and gentle caresses, but she only cried harder. The words she spoke were unintelligible, garbled by her sobs and tears.

  Fearing something had happened to jeopardize his daughter's life, he glanced up at his men, vaguely aware that Caitlan had come up beside him and was attempting to pacify Laura.

  "What's going on?" he demanded.

  The three men looked at him uneasily. Kirk spoke, his tone as grim as his expression. "Someone put Missy's kittens into King's stall."

  Caitlan gasped audibly, and Laura's sobs increased.

  "What?" J.T.'s fear of seconds before liquified to white-hot outrage.

  "It's true." Frank shifted on his feet, glancing from Caitlan to Laura, and then back to J.T. again. "King, uh, trampled them to death."

  J.T. let out a string of swear words he'd neverused in the presence of ladies before, but anger overruled his manners. "Who the hell would do such a thing?"

  "That's what we're trying to figure out," Randal said, averting his gaze to the entrance of the barn.

  J.T. glanced around for Mike. Just before leaving with Caitlan today he'd issued the man a slight reprimand. Would he be spiteful enough to kill innocent kittens? And was this incident at all related to what had happened to him at the creek? Or was this a warning of some sort from the sick person stalking him? Damn, he didn't like not being able to trust his own hands.

  "Who found the kittens?" he asked.

  Kirk cast a sympathetic look at Laura. "Laura and Karen found them about fifteen minutes ago."

  "Ah, Smidget," J.T. murmured, rocking her gently, his heart breaking for her. "I'm so sorry."

  Laura looked up at him, her eyes puffy from the tears she'd shed, misery in their depths. "They're… they're all dead." She gulped in a breath, then another sob broke from her.

  "Shhh." J.T. comforted Laura for a moment longer, then gently extricated her from his arms, anxious to do some investigating. Wanting to separate Laura from the situation, he glanced at Caitlan beside him, grateful for her presence.

  Except she seemed preoccupied. A troubling frown marred her brow and suspicion colored her eyes as she glared at Randal. Hell, was the woman still holding a grudge against Randal for his behavior the other night?

  Might as well kill two birds with one stone, he thought. "Caitlan, would you please take Laura up to the house?"

  She pulled her gaze from Randal and glanced at Laura, her features softening with concern and compassion. "Of course."

  Laura shook her head wildly at J.T., on the verge of hysterics. "Who's gonna get the kittens?" she asked around a fresh wave of tears, sobs, and convulsive shudders.

  "I'll take care of it," he promised, handing her over to Caitlan. "Go with Caitlan. I'll be up in a bit."

  "Come on, honey." Caitlan wrapped her arm around Laura's shoulder and guided her toward the walkway leading to the main house. As Paula and Karen joined her, Caitlan glanced over her shoulder at Randal.

  Randal met her gaze, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his mouth. Then he turned and followed the other men into the barn.

  The import of Randal's silent goad made Caitlan so physically ill, she thought she'd lose her lunch.

  Paula shook her head, her lips pursed in disgust as she looked off into the distance. "I just don't understand who would do such a thing to those poor, helpless kittens."

  The answer came all too easily to Caitlan: Randal.

  Traumatized by what she'd witnessed, Laura lay on the couch in the living room, hugging a throw pillow to her chest, her body curled into a fetal position. Her head rested in Caitlan's lap, and Caitlan offered whatever comfort she could to the young girl while Paula called Karen's mother to pick up her daughter.

  After all Laura's tears had been shed she stared into space, her body shuddering with an occasional sigh or hiccup. Caitlan rubbed Laura's back and played with her hair, granting the girl time to grieve for her precious kittens.

  Laura refused to eat dinner. A little after seven, weary and exhausted, Laura fought her body's natural reaction to fall into slumber. Caitlan, seeing Laura's struggle with the inevitable, accompanied her upstairs to her room, helped her into a fresh nightgown, and pulled down the bedcovers.

  Laura looked from the bed to Caitlan, her bottom lip trembling. "I don't want to be alone, Caitlan. Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

  Caitlan realized she'd do anything for this sweet girl. Keeping her company, and keeping the terrible memories of what she'd experienced at bay, was so little to ask. "Sure, honey. Come on; get into bed."

  Laura climbed up on the frilly canopied bed and snuggled under the covers. Caitlan turned off the light and joined her, lying on top of the bedspread. Within minutes of Caitlan stroking Laura's hair, the young girl had fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even. Still, Caitlan threaded the silky strands of Laura's hair though her fingers, reluctant to leave her.

  A shaft of light from the hallway illuminated the room in a soft glow and enabled her to see Laura's puffy eyes, red nose, and swollen lips. Her features, although softened in repose, still held traces of the tragedy she'd suffered. And what about the emotional scars that would remain forever?

  Fierce anger and protectiveness welled in Caitlan. Laura was an innocent person in this whole ordeal, and Caitlan resented that the ugliness had touched her. How far would Randal go in his quest for vengeance?

  The sound of someone climbing the stairs brought Caitlan out of her musings. Recognizing J.T.'s lazy, booted stride, anticipation fluttered in her stomach. A moment later he filled Laura's doorway. Tiredly, he leaned his shoulder against the jamb, hip cocked, and crossed his arms over his chest. Silently, he stared toward the bed, his gaze drifting over Laura's prone form.

  The hallway light silhouetted his large build, accentuating the width of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist and hips. There was a quiet strength about him that made Caitlan want to slip into his embrace for warmth and comfort. At the same time she had the undeniable urge to touch her mouth to his and soften the hardness there, wanted to caress her thumb over the frown creasing his brow.

  His eyes moved from his daughter to her. Their gazes connected in the dimness. An incredible awareness, as hot and vital as flame, replaced the worry she'd detected moments before. Boldly, his smoky gaze traveled the length of her, undressing her with his eyes. Seeing the sensual heat in his gaze, the sudden carnal desire, she knew he was imagining her lying in his bed, naked, waiting for him. She shamelessly wished she were.

  Desire danced through her, a wanting so explicit and urgent it should have shocked her but no longer did. This smoldering hunger was a remnant of the heat he'd generated during their picnic but hadn't had the courtesy to extinguish. Desire and need mingled as one, a yearning so powerful that a delicious warmth cascaded through her veins.

  She searched for something appropriate to say to break the spell and managed a whispery, "Hi."

  "Hi." Wrapped in the shadows of the room, his voice was rough, gravelly, and sexy, sliding over all those warm, secret places that responded so effortlessly to him.

  Pushing off the doorjamb, he slowly crossed to the bed and ran his knuckles down Laura's cheek, then smoothed his large hand gently over her head. A shuddering sigh escaped Laura, and she snuggled deeper into her pillow, murmuring incoherent words. Straightening, he glanced at Caitlan, and she saw the true weariness in his eyes.

  J.T. jammed his hands on his hips, his expression taking on a protective edge. "How is she?"

  "Emotionally exhausted, but I think she'll be fine." Caitlan came up on her elbow, a little self-conscious about being with Laura, as if J.T. might think she was trying to horn in where she really didn't belong. "She didn't want to be alone. I hope you don't mind."

  "Mind what?" A wry, private smile touched his lips. "You being a surrogate mom?"<
br />
  "If that's what you want to call it." She shrugged lightly and glanced at Laura's pretty face, knowing once her mission ended that this child would still be special to her. "She needed someone to be with her. I'm just glad I was around to help."

  J.T. rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. "I should have been with her," he said in a low voice filled with self-recrimination. "But I needed to get to the bottom of this incident with the kittens."

  "I understand," she reassured him softly. "And I think Laura understands too."

  Their eyes met and held for endless seconds.

  Then J.T. expelled a deep, resigned breath. "Thank you, Caitlan. For everything."

  "You're welcome." She couldn't help the smile lifting her lips, inordinately pleased that he actually appreciated her and had swallowed his pride enough to admit it. Then her thoughts detoured to more important matters. "Did you find out who's responsible for killing the kittens?"

  Laura stirred, shifting onto her back, mumbling something about Tommy pulling on her hair.

  J.T. lifted a brow at his daughter's comment, then whispered to Caitlan, "Why don't we finish this discussion down in the kitchen?"

  Nodding, Caitlan slid off the bed. She adjusted the covers over Laura and placed a light kiss on the girl's soft cheek. "Sweet dreams, honey." Glancing at J.T., she found him watching her with a caring and warm glimmer in his eyes.

  Shaking off the bout of awareness shimmering over her, she passed him as she moved through the doorway. "Let's go," she said, too aware of how quiet the house was, now that Paula had left a half hour ago.

  He caught up to her on the stairs. "Who in the hell is Tommy?" he growled like an overly provoked papa bear.

  Caitlan grinned at J.T.'s prickly attitude in relation to boys and his little girl. "Probably a boyfriend at school who pulls her hair to get her attention." She shot him a pointed look. "Don't embarrass Laura by asking her about it."

  "A boyfriend?" he said incredulously, dogging her steps through the living room. "She's only twelve years old, for crying out loud!"

  Caitlan laughed softly, amused. "A very prettytwelve-year-old," she stated emphatically, then gave him a sidelong look. "How old was Amanda the first time you kissed her?" She flicked on the kitchen light and turned to face him.

  "Uh, twelve. Damn!" He scowled. "If this Tommy kid so much as touches Laura, I'll break his legs."

  For a moment Caitlan wished she could be around when Laura started dating, just to be a buffer between an overprotective father and his daughter. "I sure pity Laura when she starts dating. Are you going to be the kind of father who greets Laura's dates with shotgun in hand?"

  His brows lifted a fraction, considering her suggestion. "Not a bad idea."

  Caitlan shook her head and dropped the subject, not wanting to be held accountable for planting these wild ideas in J.T.'s head. Laura would never forgive her. Opening the refrigerator, she retrieved the Sloppy Joe mix Paula had prepared for supper, but no one had eaten because of all the earlier chaos. Under the circumstances Frank and Kirk had gone home for supper.

  Turning on a burner, she scooped enough meat for J.T.'s meal into a saucepan. "What did you find out about the kittens?"

  "Not much as far as who actually threw them into King's stall." He sat down on the bench, legs spread, elbows braced on his knees. Plowing all ten fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture, he stared at the floor between his booted feet. "Everyone seems to be accounted for when it happened."

  While the meat simmered, Caitlan pulled three hamburger buns from the bread box and put them on a plate. Placing a slice of cheese on each, she glanced back at J.T. "Where was Randal?" She strove to keep her tone neutral.

  J.T.'s head shot up, his eyes narrowed. "Randal? You think he had something to do with this?"

  Caitlan didn't think, she knew for certain Randal had thrown the kittens into King's stall as an act of revenge-toward her and possibly toward Missy for attacking him. Yet she had no concrete evidence beside her gut instinct, and Randal's awful smirk, that he'd actually done the deed.

  Heaping the meat onto the buns and cheese, she gave a casual shrug. "I'm just curious where he was when this happened."

  "He was with Hank and Sam down at the cook-house when Laura started screaming."

  Great alibi, Caitlan thought, but how long had the kittens been dead before Laura found them?

  Caitlan set J.T.'s dinner on the table, along with a tall glass of iced tea.

  J.T. turned around toward the table, glancing from his plate of Sloppy Joe's to Caitlan, who'd taken a seat across from him. "Thanks. You didn't have to make my dinner." A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. "I'm not such a lousy cook that I couldn't have warmed the meat myself."

  She smiled. "I'm sure you could have, but you look exhausted and I really don't mind."

  He picked up a sandwich, then looked back at her. "Aren't you going to eat?"

  "I'm not hungry. Go ahead."

  He devoured the first Sloppy Joe with gusto and gulped down half his iced tea. After swiping his mouth with a napkin he said, "I'm still trying to figure out if this incident with the kittens has anything to do with what happened to me at the creek. I'll be damned if I can think of any reason why someone would want me killed, or what killing those kittens would accomplish. It all seems like someone's demented idea of fun." He picked up another sandwich, a ruthless look entering his eyes. "I especially don't like the thought that my daughter's life could be in danger."

  His concern was a very realistic one, Caitlan thought, considering the fact that Randal showed no remorse for the acts of violence he'd already committed. "Are you sure there's no one around here holding a grudge of some sort against you?" she prompted.

  J.T. washed a bite of sandwich down with a long drink of iced tea. "The only person who's held a grudge against me has been Randal, but it's a personal grudge that has been ongoing since our childhood." He waved a hand in the air, dismissing Randal as a possible suspect.

  Caitlan ignored the subtle hint to let the subject drop. "Does Randal stand to gain anything if you should die?"

  "You mean the ranch?"

  "Yes."

  He shook his head. "No. If anything should happen to me, everything, right down to the last head of cattle, will go to Laura when she turns twenty-one. Until then Kirk and Debbie would have control of the estate and her trust."

  He finished off his last sandwich, stood, and took his dish to the sink and rinsed it. Wiping his hands on a dishtowel, he stared out the kitchen window to the darkened night beyond. Caitlan thought this was his way of ending their discussion until he turned around and propped his hip against the counter, looking at her intently.

  Indecision warred in his gaze, then finally he said, "There's one person I'm getting increasingly suspicious of."

  Startled by the possibility that she'd somehow been wrong about Randal, she sat up straighter. "Who?"

  "Mike Peterson, a hand I hired a few months back."

  "What has he done?"

  "Nothing, really." Releasing a tight breath, he scrubbed a hand down the stubble shadowing his jaw. "At least nothing that I've actually caught him doing, but it's the way he slinks around the place that annoys me. If anyone had a reason to throw those kittens into King's stall, he did."

  "Why?" Caitlan found it hard to believe that someone else had as much motivation as Randal for killing those kittens.

  "Remember when you came running out of the barn and bumped into me?"

  "Yes," she answered cautiously, trying to guess what he was getting at.

  "Did you see Mike in there before you came out? He's a lanky guy with dark hair, kind of brooding."

  Caitlan hadn't seen anyone but Randal, but that didn't mean Mike hadn't been there, witnessing the argument between herself and Randal. If Mike had, wouldn't he have said or done something to help her? "No, I didn't see him. Why?"

  "Because after I sent you up to the house for a jacket I went into the barn and ran i
nto him. He was smoking a cigarette in the tack room and I got on his case about smoking in the barn. He knows better. One little spark and the place would go up like an inferno. He apologized and promised it wouldn't happen again, but there's just something about him I don't trust. I'm thinking about letting him go, but I can't prove he's done anything." He shifted on his feet, frustration rippling through him. "Hell, I don't know anymore, Caitlan. I hate looking at my men, men I've trusted, and wondering if any of them are involved in these incidents."

  He whirled around and braced his hands on the counter, his gaze trained out the window again. The muscles across his shoulders bunched with tension, and it took deliberate restraint on Caitlan's part not to jump up and go to him, to put her arms around his waist and offer quiet reassurance and support.

  After an eternity of seconds had passed J.T. swore harshly, his words bitter and succinct to match his mood, and pushed away from the counter. Mumbling something about going into his office, he disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Caitlan feeling alone, emotionally drained, and empty inside.

  Somehow she knew J.T. felt the same.

  Chapter Eight

  Carrying a plate of fresh sliced bananas and a piece of toast, Caitlan knocked softly on Laura's bedroom door, wanting to reassure herself that the girl was okay, since she hadn't come down for breakfast.

  "Come in," Laura answered, her quiet voice barely reaching Caitlan's ears.

  Opening the door, Caitlan peeked inside. Laura stood in front of her dresser mirror, methodically running a brush through her long hair. Her face looked freshly scrubbed, and although sadness lingered in her eyes, the puffiness around them had diminished. In accordance with the unusually warm spring day, she'd dressed in pink shorts, a white shirt, and sandals.

  Stepping inside the room, Caitlan smiled. "I brought you something to eat before we leave for your Aunt Debbie's. How are you feeling?"

  Laura put the brush down and shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Dad's already been up here three times to check on me."

  "He's just worried about you. We all are."