Angel Falls

by Connie Mann

  Brooks eyed the rickety stairs and took a determined step forward.

  Regina brought up the rear, casting worried glances over her shoulder and keeping one hand out in case Brooks fell backward. Without laces, his boots slid on his feet and made walking that much more difficult.

  It seemed to take forever, but they finally made it up the stairs and into the last door at the end of the corridor. The room’s damp, musty smell confirmed that it had not been used in quite a while. In the feeble glow of an overhead bulb, Regina eyed it askance. At least it had a bed, even though it sported a mighty sag in the middle. The bath fixtures were old and rusted, but it still beat an outhouse. She’d need running water.

  Jax helped Brooks sit on the edge of the bed, and then turned to go.

  Regina blocked his path. “I need you to pick up a few things right away.”

  Jax tried to move past her. “I have to get back to the woods. Anything you need, dollface, I’ll be happy to give you when I get back.”

  The insinuation behind the words made Regina blanch. Before she’d come up with a suitable retort, Brooks bit out, “Do as she says.”

  Jax immediately held his hands up, palms out in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, it was just a joke.” He tried to leave, and again, Regina stepped into his path. Knowing Brooks supported her gave her courage she might otherwise not have had.

  She lifted her chin. “I saw a small market at the corner. I need formula—milk at the very least—a baby bottle, diapers, wipes, some whiskey, cheese, and sugar.” She waited a beat. “Do you need to write it down?”

  Jax glanced at the bed where Brooks sat, then back at Regina. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Regina merely nodded and bent to unbutton Brooks’ leather jacket, but Eduardo got in the way. She grabbed a wool blanket and quickly made him a bed on the floor.

  Turning back to Brooks, she saw that he had stretched out on the bed and lay with his eyes closed. Careful of the sagging mattress, Regina sat on the edge and pulled his jacket aside. His eyes opened, and she paused to look at him, unsure what he was thinking.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure yet.” Carefully, she pulled his black T-shirt farther out of the way, ignoring the way that muscular chest did funny things to her insides. She checked his bandage, relieved to find very little fresh blood. Her pressure bandage seemed to have helped. “I don’t want to tear open the wound again, but unless I uncover it, I can’t tell how bad it is.”

  “Did the bullet go through?”

  Regina could have kicked herself. With all the confusion, she’d never even considered that it might still be lodged inside him. She should have, though. This was basic stuff.

  Brooks must have sensed her frustration. “It’s okay. If I roll onto my side, you can check for an exit wound.” He did just that, sucking air between his teeth as he shifted his weight.

  Regina lifted his shirt and gasped. Blood covered his back. Before her panic ran away with her, she realized the blood was dry.

  She ran her hand down his back, but still couldn’t tell if the bullet had gone through, so she closed her eyes and used her sense of touch, instead. His skin felt hot under her fingers, and she worried that he’d started a fever.

  Inch by inch, she checked his back and side, finally coming to an area just above his hipbone. When he flinched, Regina’s eyes flew open. She leaned closer, frustrated by the lack of light. Yes, there it was, a jagged hole where the bullet had gone out. Blood welled steadily. She looked around for something to stop it, and finally tore another strip from her skirt.

  “Did you find it?” Brooks demanded.

  Regina clamped down on her worry. “Yes. Stay like that so I can get the rest of you cleaned up. It’s hard to see what’s going on.” She hurried to the bathroom and wet a dingy once-white towel, carefully wringing it out.

  Then she sat beside him again and gently but quickly washed the area around the wound. She had to hurry. She put one hand on his smooth flesh and jumped when he sucked in a quick breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, instantly contrite.

  “It’s okay. Keep going.”

  Regina used careful, efficient strokes, studying his back as she did. He really had a very nice build, from a purely clinical standpoint. No extra fat collecting around his middle, just lots of smooth skin and sleek muscles. Sort of like a cat, only without fur. She smiled, picturing his reaction if she compared him to a pussycat. No, a gray-eyed wolf maybe, but never something as common as a house cat.

  She had almost finished when Jax burst through the door, a sack in each hand. He thumped the bags down on the scarred dresser.

  “Did you get everything?”

  “Yes. I’m going back for our package.” At the doorway he paused, hand on the knob. “You okay here?”

  Regina didn’t look up. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  “You know how to doctor a gunshot?”

  This time she did look up with a grimace. “Actually, yes.”

  She saw a smidgeon of respect in his expression. “I gotta ask, though,” he said. “What’s with the sugar?”

  “Helps with clotting and to prevent infection.”

  Jax nodded briefly. “Take good care of him,” he said, and left.

  Regina turned back to her task with determination. She gathered up all the towels in the bathroom, then used the minuscule bar of soap to scrub out the small plastic trashcan. She’d need that to hold water. After she’d washed it out, she poured a bit of the whiskey into it, sloshed it around, and poured it out. As a disinfectant, it would have to do.

  She returned to the bed with her supplies and finished washing the area around the exit wound. Brooks seemed to be hovering somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness. “Brooks,” she said quietly. When he didn’t respond, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Brooks, wake up. I’m sorry.”

  Still on his side, he mumbled and then opened his eyes to look over his shoulder.

  “I have to disinfect the wound, but I wanted to give you fair warning.”

  He eyed the liquor bottle in her hand and gave a curt nod.

  “Would you like a swig first?”

  He shook his head, no.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can, but it has to be done. We don’t want—”

  “Just get it over with,” he ground out.

  “Right. Okay.” She held a dry towel below the wound to catch the liquid, and then slowly poured a generous amount of whiskey into the wound.

  Brooks’ whole body tensed and his breathing came in short pants, but he didn’t make a sound. “Again,” he said.

  She complied, then waited, holding the towel against his side, while whiskey and blood poured out of the wound. She wanted it to bleed some; that would help cleanse it. But too much wasn’t good. She watched, totally still, to see if the bleeding slowed. Brooks face turned ashen and drops of sweat beaded his brow. She blotted them away, then returned her attention to his side.

  Still too much blood.

  She would need Olga’s remedy. In her years at the orphanage, she and the housekeeper had doctored many a gunshot or knife wound. When the bleeding wouldn’t stop, Olga had taught her to pour granulated sugar into the wound. It helped the blood clot and, amazingly, acted as a sort of antibiotic at the same time. Beat anything she’d learned during her nurse’s training.

  Once that was done, she ripped a pillowcase into a bandage and guided Brooks’s hand over it to hold it in place. “Keep the pressure on here, while I take care of the entry wound.” She paused. “You’ll have to roll over, though.”

  He eased over onto his back, muttering unintelligible words the whole way. She saw the pain glazing his gray eyes and worked faster. Pour in the whiskey. Wait while he caught his breath. Do it again. Let it bleed for a few minutes. Check the bleeding.

  Still too much. Pour on more sugar. Wrap it in clean bandages. Then wrap a piece of the sheet around his middle to hold both bandages in place.

  By
the time she finished, Regina’s hands were shaking. She hated to inflict hurt on anyone, even when it was necessary. Thankfully, Brooks had dozed during some of it. Equally amazing, Eduardo had not needed her attention.

  As she quietly collected blood-soaked towels, his voice broke the silence, startling her. “You don’t like Jax.”

  Regina looked up to find his eyes boring into hers. She looked away. “He just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  What to say? She shrugged. “He just does.”

  “Did he make a pass at you?”

  “They always do.” Suddenly, she was tired, so very tired. She had no idea of the time, but she was utterly drained. As soon as she cleaned up, she’d feed and change the baby and then collapse.

  She eased off the bed, but his hand stopped her. “You’re not like that,” he insisted.

  At first, she didn’t know what he meant. But then understanding dawned, and with it, more tears flooded her eyes. No one but those associated with House of Angels had ever treated her as though that was true. Most assumed she deserved whatever she got. And then some. That Brooks would worry about her at a time like this both humbled and flustered her. Embarrassed by her tears, she wiped them away and chalked the whole thing up to complete exhaustion.

  She looked back at Brooks and saw that he’d fallen asleep. Even now, his jaw clamped tight, he looked ready to leap from the bed, completely awake at a moment’s notice. He hadn’t let go of protective warrior mode, even though the danger had passed.

  Eduardo stirred quietly, so she rinsed the towels, washed her hands and poured him a bottle of milk. Sitting in the room’s one rickety chair, she cradled the baby close, stroking his sweet-smelling head, caressing his soft cheeks.

  Tomorrow she’d have to give him up.

  The realization hit like an unexpected blow, the pain burning like fire. She wasn’t ready. In truth, she’d never be ready. She’d touched Irene’s belly and felt him move even before he was born, and she’d been there when he drew his very first breath. She’d held him when Irene died. How could she send him away to strangers who didn’t know that he loved to have his tummy tickled, or know his favorite lullaby?

  But she’d promised Irene. Carol had said she’d found a wonderful couple anxious to love him and give him a place within their family. She couldn’t deny him that.

  How would she let him go?

  Carol had often admonished Regina with a quote from her father: what cannot be changed, must be endured. This was such a time. Father, help me. I can’t do this.

  As the moon slowly tracked across the sky and traffic in the street below thinned, Regina created more memories to cherish of this tiny, precious link to her best friend. She cradled Eduardo close to her heart and softly sang all his favorite lullabies, oblivious of the tears pouring down her cheeks.

  A soft sound woke him. Brooks’s senses sprang to attention, though he didn’t open his eyes. He took inventory of his surroundings first, listening for whatever had awakened him. When he heard the soft singing, he relaxed. It was Regina, humming to the kid. Eduardo. His half brother. Maybe.

  He moved slightly and white-hot pain flashed up his side, searing him with its heat. Teeth clamped together, he breathed through his nose until it receded. The events of the night flooded back. He opened his eyes, seeking Regina in the dimness.

  His vision had cleared, he noted with relief. She sat in a straight-backed chair, holding the baby close. Light from the street pierced the crack in the drapes and reflected off the tears tracking down her cheeks. “Come to bed,” he said into the stillness.

  Her head snapped up. “Brooks? Are you okay?” She hurried over to the bed and reached out to touch his forehead. “No fever.” He couldn’t miss the relief in her voice. “How about some water?”

  After he’d swallowed some, along with a hunk of now-warm cheese, he said again, “Come to bed.”

  When she hesitated, he inched over to the nightstand and grabbed his gun. She froze when he turned toward her holding it, so he flipped it around, butt first. “Here. You hold the gun. And your switchblade. That way, if I ever act stupid again, you can shoot me.”

  Regina made a shooing motion toward the gun with her hand, a smile on her lips. “You keep the gun. I’ll be fine with my knife.”

  The tension inside him eased. “Put the boy down and come lie down. You can’t spend the night in that chair.”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

  “Just come to bed, Reggie.”

  Her hesitation annoyed him. He wanted her next to him, needed the reassurance of her presence.

  And not just tonight. Every night.

  He stiffened in surprise at the unwelcome thought, denial flooding him. Instead, he pretended to be asleep and waited. The way the bed sagged in the middle would definitely work in his favor.

  When nothing happened after several minutes, he opened one eye and ground his teeth. She clung to the edge of the bed like a limpet to keep from rolling toward him.

  He raised his head off the pillow and held out his good arm. “I need you. Please. Come here.”

  The surprise in her eyes matched his own. He never begged. Not for anything. But with this woman, he seemed to do all sorts of things he didn’t usually do.

  One eye on his wound, she inched toward him. When she was within reach, he settled her in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. She hadn’t stopped crying, for her tears immediately soaked his shirt. His male ego would love to think she cried over him, but he’d been shot in the side, not the head. She knew as well as he did that tomorrow he’d be leaving with the boy. They’d caught Raul. The time had come to take Eduardo to his new family.

  She needed comfort tonight. It was the least he could do after all she’d done for him.

  “How’s your head?” she asked quietly, carefully touching the bump.

  The question jerked him back to the moment he burst into the clearing and saw her crumpled on the hard ground. He bit out the words. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  That should never have happened. Never. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead. It sure wasn’t because of anything he’d done to prevent it.

  Defeat hammered him, dragged him down, until he almost pulled away from her. She deserved better, far better than a man like him. But he was the only warm body around tonight, and she needed arms around her like a plant needs sunshine. He could give her that much, at least. Even if it was only temporary.

  Brooks tenderly brushed the tears from her cheeks with his palm. “I let you down today,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  She tensed and he berated himself for saying too much. Should have held her close and kept his trap shut.

  “What?” Regina raised her head to get a better look at his face. She took in his expression and snorted. “No, you didn’t let me down. You saved my life. And Eduardo’s. God took care of all of us today.”

  His grip tightened as he thought of his own stupidity. But his code demanded honesty. “I should never have let you leave.”

  “And I should never have opened the door to Raul.”

  “You had no way of knowing he was behind this.”

  Her brown eyes gleamed with triumph. “And neither had you.”

  “I should have. It’s my job to consider every possibility.”

  She twisted around as though looking behind him.

  “What?”

  Regina shook her head sadly. “No wings. The way you were talking, I thought maybe you were God—who knows everything. Or, at the very least, an angel. But you’re not. You did your best today. That’s all God requires of us.”

  “Sometimes, that’s not enough,” he growled. “If we don’t do it right, innocent people die.”

  She didn’t say anything for several minutes. “What happened to make you quit the Rangers?”

  Brooks hesitated, but finally told her the whole story. “Ultimately, Ambassador Si
mms didn’t give a rat’s behind that we had tried to save his wife and child. The end result was still the same: they died. And it was my fault. I still don’t know who set us up, but I’m going to find out.”

  Regina cocked her head to one side. “What if you don’t find the answers?”

  “I won’t stop until I do. I have to know.”

  When Regina lapsed into silence, Brooks thought she’d finally fallen asleep.

  “If I’d only suspected—” Regina began reflectively.

  A laugh burst from his throat, and he held her tighter. “No wings on your back either, so let it go.”

  “You look good when you laugh. Less threatening,” she said.

  His smile vanished like it had never been. “Will you forgive me for yesterday? I never meant to hurt you.”

  The resigned look she sent him broke his heart. “I know you didn’t. But it is the nature of things between men and women.”

  Brooks had no idea what to say, because she was right. At least partially. Even though he had no choice, he was going to rip her heart out when he left with Eduardo in the morning. Instead, he coaxed her head back onto his shoulder, and brushed the hair back from her face, loving the way it curled around his fingers.

  “How come you’ve never married? You’re wonderful with Eduardo, a natural mother.”

  She stiffened, and he feared he’d wandered too far into dangerous territory. But he wanted to know.

  “Besides the fact that nobody wants to marry a former prostitute who doesn’t like to be touched?”

  He traced a hand down her arm. “Yeah, besides that. And you seem to be getting over the touching part.” Brooks sensed her indecision. “You don’t have to answer,” he added.

  She finally met his gaze, a world of sadness and regret in her eyes. “I can’t have children. That wouldn’t be fair to a man, even if I found one who wanted me.”

  “Because of your childhood?” he asked.

  Regina nodded and moved closer, biting her lip before she answered. “I was raped when I was fourteen,” she began, and he stiffened.

  “I became pregnant and after the shock wore off, I fell in love with that unborn baby. I had a focus, a reason to live. But something went wrong, and I started bleeding. Noah took me to House of Angels, but while he tried to save my baby, a man came in and attacked him.” She swallowed hard. “The man attacked me, too, and killed my baby. Surgery saved my life, but I’ll never have any more children.”