Warrior Angel

by Margaret

  As she settled into the car for the ride home through rush-hour traffic, she let herself dream about the day when she would have her own seat. When she wouldn’t have to worry about the stupidity of clients or Freeman’s inanities. She even let herself think about what life might be like married to Zanus. Her mother would be ecstatic and insist on planning everything. She couldn’t trust Rachel to handle it, after all.

  Fine with me, Rachel thought, leaning back into the leather seat and allowing herself to dream…

  The car rolled to a stop in front of her condo. The door opened and there was Derek, holding the door for her.

  He looked her straight in the eyes and it was so intense, so penetrating, that it took her breath away. For a moment she couldn’t speak or think.

  Why did he do this to her? Why did he make her feel nervous and jumpy and flustered? Why did his hand, strong and firm, taking hold of her hand to assist her from the car, cause her pulse rate to go sky high? She was going to marry Zanus in Hawaii. She should not be thinking about how great it felt for the doorman to touch her hand.

  “Derek, I will be going out tonight,” Rachel said, rewarding him with a smile. “Please have a taxi come by for me at eight p.m.”

  She started to walk off.

  “Are you seeing that man in the limo again?” Derek demanded harshly.

  Rachel turned around to face him. “What possible business is it of yours?”

  “Where are you going tonight?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her.

  Rachel stared at him for a moment, taking back every good thought she’d had about him. Now she was a little afraid. Was he becoming obsessed with her? She turned and continued walking, refusing to dignify such a question from a doorman—even a handsome doorman—with an answer.

  “I need to know so that I can tell the cab company, Miss Duncan,” Derek said coolly, following her into the lobby.

  “Oh, right,” said Rachel, flushing. Now she felt stupid. Paranoid and stupid. “I am going to a restaurant called Fuse. It’s in the Hotel 71.”

  He wrote down the name on a note pad. Rachel continued walking toward the elevator, mentally kicking herself. Why do I let him get to me? Why do my brains seem to turn to bean dip whenever he’s around?

  She was nearing the elevator when she heard his footfalls coming up behind her.

  “Rachel, I have to talk to you,” he said urgently. He took hold of her hands. “It is important—”

  The elevator door opened. There stood the Ericksons—a wealthy couple, blue bloods, prominent socialites—staring at the two of them holding hands.

  “Dear me,” said Mrs. Erickson. “I hope we aren’t interrupting.”

  “You are, actually,” Derek said, glowering at them.

  The two stared at Rachel, mildly shocked.

  Rachel snatched her hand from Derek’s grasp.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Erickson,” she said politely, cursing beneath her breath. Mrs. Erickson was the biggest gossip in the building. By tomorrow afternoon, everyone would know Rachel was having a fling with the doorman.

  “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

  They murmured that it was and walked on. She entered the elevator and for a moment she thought Derek was going to charge in after her, but apparently he recalled his duties. He stalked off to open the door for the Ericksons, who were giving each other knowing smiles.

  She punched the button and sighed in relief when the doors closed. And she put out of her mind the warm, firm feel of his hands holding hers…

  Derek was not around when she went downstairs to meet her taxi—thank goodness! The night man was on duty and Rachel didn’t know him very well, which was probably a good thing. Rachel had called the manager to put in a complaint about Derek’s behavior. But, as usual, Fraym’s machine had answered. She had left a terse message and hung up.

  Her taxi was right on time, however. Derek had managed to do something right.

  “Hotel 71,” she said, and sank back in the seat to watch Chicago flash by.

  She loved this city at night. Loved the wonderful architecture, loved the lights that were around her and above her and even below her, reflected in the river that was the city’s lifeblood. It was April. Spring was in the air, though there was still snow in the shady corners. She felt rejuvenated and refreshed. Not only the lights and the city, but she was meeting her girlfriends for dinner. These were not friends from work. They were her solace from work.

  This was also the first time Zanus would meet her girlfriends. Rachel wasn’t sure she liked the idea, but the girls were thrilled. They had wanted to meet this fabulous man they’d heard about. Rachel had admittedly done considerable bragging about him but now she wished she hadn’t. What if they didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like them?

  Rachel had met Lana and Kim and Beth through a book club she’d joined. The book club hadn’t quite worked out, however. They all loved to talk about books. The problem was, they had such different tastes they could never agree on what book to read next. More and more Rachel and Lana, Kim and Beth, found themselves going off on their own, forgetting to discuss the book in favor of talking about each other. They decided to form their own book and social club. They did still talk about books. They would tell each other what they were reading and share their opinions. That way if a book appealed to one friend and not to the others, they weren’t forced to read something they didn’t want to.

  They all liked each other, and they led such different lives that each found the lives of the others fascinating. Their conversations always steered a path toward personal discussions instead of the book they were supposed to be discussing. The current book they were supposed to be talking about was one Rachel had recommended. Leg the Spread: A Woman’s Adventures Inside the Trillion-Dollar Boy’s Club of Commodities Trading by the author Cari Lynn. The book was about life in the pits from a female perspective. Rachel had urged them all to read it, saying it would help them understand her better.

  Lana had rolled her eyes and said she doubted anything would help her understand Rachel, but she’d give it a try.

  Lana was a television executive. Brash and beautiful, she never took crap from anyone and was always championing some cause. She was very much take-charge and gave the impression that she could handle any situation she encountered. Lana was single and she really liked men. In fact, Lana went through men like most women blow through tissues.

  Rachel admired Lana’s boldness. Nothing embarrassed Lana, and she could care less what anyone thought of her. Rachel thought it would be very liberating to walk in Lana’s shoes for a day or two.

  Lana’s older sister, Beth, was the only married one in the group. She was practical, whip smart, and preppy. She always looked perfectly put together and appeared to be totally in control of herself. She was honest to a fault—the fault being that some things should remain unsaid. Beth and her husband owned a very successful small business together. Beth was typically the reserved one in the group, but on rare occasions she would completely cut loose with the girls and they’d all roll into bed in the early-morning hours. When Beth took it into her head to pull an all-nighter, there was no stopping her.

  And last there was Kim, a chemist who worked for a large pharmaceutical company. Kim was also smart, practical, stubborn and pretty with long brunette hair that she would never dream of cutting. Kim was polite, quiet, and seemed delicate. She was often taken for a pushover. But those people who made this mistake were soon proven wrong. Kim had a supervisory role at her company and she never accepted less than perfection from herself and her charges.

  Rachel entered the lobby of the Hotel 71, decorated in ultramodern, with plants growing out of a coffee table and jet black elevators. She went to the restaurant bar—one of the new hot spots in town, all steel and chrome and funky lights and young professionals. The place was crowded, no table available, and so she sat at the bar. Zanus said he would meet her there; he had some business to take care of at the office, but he would take
her home.

  Rachel thought again how strange it was that he’d insisted on meeting her friends. Most men she’d dated could have cared less about her girlfriends. He’d seemed angry over her reluctance to bring him. She should be pleased; this was a sign he was thinking about her, interested in what interested her. She couldn’t help but find it a bit odd, though.

  She wondered if she was worried about jinxing her relationship with him. Introducing the friends was a big step. The next step was meeting the parents. Her stomach gave a little flutter at the thought. Fortunately hers were on QE 2 heading for the South Pacific.

  “Dirty martini,” she told the bartender. “Straight up, and salty. And throw in a extra olive, will you?”

  Rachel sipped it and started to relax and unwind, but she couldn’t get Derek completely out of her mind. Rachel, I have to talk to you. It’s important. Why? What about? She couldn’t help but be curious. She told herself he was just creepy, but, the truth was, he wasn’t. He seemed to be genuinely, sincerely concerned about something and it had to do with her.

  A hand on her shoulder made her jump.

  “Hello, darling.” Zanus greeted her with a discreet kiss on the cheek. “Sorry to startle you, but you were so absorbed in your thoughts you didn’t see me.”

  “Sorry about that,” she said, flushing. She was thankful that no one had yet invented video-thoughts, otherwise he would have seen a full-size picture of Derek.

  “Have you been waiting long?” he asked politely.

  “No, I haven’t. I just ordered a drink.”

  Zanus ordered a single malt scotch (the most expensive on the bar list) and sat on the stool next to Rachel.

  “So where are the ladies?”

  “Oh, they’re probably running a bit late. Would you like to go to our table now?” Rachel asked.

  She and Zanus were seated and soon her girlfriends trickled in. Kim was the last to arrive, exasperated about some sort of terrible chemical mix-up at work. Rachel made the introductions and they all listened to Kim’s story about the joys of having to be decontaminated.

  Zanus was charming, of course. Rachel felt foolish for having reservations about introducing him to her friends. He made them all feel at ease, encouraged them to talk, answered their none-too-subtle questions with grace and charm, telling them nothing while giving the impression he was telling everything. Rachel watched him, fascinated.

  Dinner was moving along smoothly. The entrees were served, and Lana was regaling them with a story about one of her conquests, when Rachel noticed that Zanus wasn’t listening. He was staring over her shoulder toward the bar. She turned to look but couldn’t see what was so interesting.

  She took advantage of an intense conversation between Lana and Beth to lean over to Zanus and said softly, “So who do you keep staring at up at the bar?” she asked. “Is it that redhead with the legs up to her chin? I have to warn you—I’m the jealous type.”

  He seemed taken aback by her question, as though unaware he’d been so obvious. Then he shook his head. “If you must know, I am the one who should be jealous. That new doorman of yours is standing at the bar. And he won’t stop staring at you.”

  “What?” Rachel said, aghast. “You must be mistaken.”

  She turned again and then she saw him.

  Derek was sitting at the bar, watching her.

  “Why would he be here?” Rachel said, perplexed.

  “That’s exactly what I want to know,” Zanus said grimly.

  Rachel’s friends had stopped their conversation to stare at the bar. Derek didn’t even have the grace to appear embarrassed at being caught or to look away. He kept staring straight at her.

  “Rachel, who’s the new admirer?” Lana asked and winked at Zanus. “You better take care. He’s awfully handsome.”

  Lana believed in keeping boyfriends on their toes, playing one off the other. Rachel could have cheerfully strangled her.

  “It’s nobody,” she said weakly. “It’s just the doorman at my building.”

  “Rachel, is that really your doorman?” Beth gasped. “Wow! He’s hot.”

  Zanus was glaring at her accusingly, as though this was somehow her fault. She felt the blood rush to her face.

  “I don’t know why he’s here. He’s a little strange. I think he might be foreign or something.” She was hoping they’d drop it, but she should have known better.

  “Really?” asked Kim, interested. “I think he looks Swedish. Those blue eyes. I have relatives in Sweden. Perhaps I should go introduce myself—”

  “No!” Rachel grabbed her. “Don’t you dare! Look, could we just not talk about it? If we ignore him, maybe he’ll go away. My, isn’t the veal wonderful?” she said loudly.

  Zanus threw down his napkin. “Rachel, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

  “No, please don’t,” Rachel begged. She felt hot all over. “Just leave him alone. I’ve already spoken to the manager about him. Let’s finish our dinner.”

  Zanus remained seated. Her friends, seeing her discomfort, rallied around her. Lana took charge of the conversation, asking Zanus about his thoughts on Rome, saying she was going to be visiting there soon and could he recommend a hotel? He told her about a beautiful hotel at the top of the Spanish Steps and the two were soon lost in their discussion. Rachel noticed that although he appeared to be giving his complete attention to the conversation, Zanus kept a close eye on Derek.

  Derek, to Rachel’s chagrin, was keeping a close eye on her. She had never in her life been so embarrassed. When Beth gave her a glance to let her know that she could take this opportunity to go compose herself, Rachel was quick to take advantage. She excused herself to go to the restroom.

  She was standing at the sink, pressing a cold towel over her flushed cheeks, to the detriment of her makeup, when the door opened. She was looking in the mirror and she stared in shock to see Derek striding into the ladies’ room.

  Eight

  Derek came straight up to Rachel. “I need to talk to you.”

  “What the hell is your problem?” Rachel demanded. “You can’t come in here!”

  “I need to know the name of the man you are with,” Derek said urgently. “What do you know about him?”

  He was standing in the middle of the bathroom in his doorman’s uniform. His intense blue eyes were fixed on her and he didn’t look crazy, but maybe he was the kind that after the killing spree, the neighbors all said he was such a nice, quiet guy. They never would have suspected.

  A woman standing at the sink was washing her hands for an extra long time.

  “Please, Derek,” Rachel said quietly. “Just leave me alone. I don’t want to get you fired, but there are laws in this city against stalking—”

  “I am not stalking you,” he said impatiently. “It’s him. That man. What is his name?”

  Rachel was so angry and embarrassed she didn’t even realize what he was saying. She just wanted him to go away. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Derek. You’re my doorman, for God’s sake. Get out of here now.”

  “Damn it, woman, I do not have time for your snobbery,” Derek stated angrily. He was commanding, powerful, and she suddenly had the strangest image of him in a different kind of uniform. Military. It was all over him, from his upright stance to the direct and bold way he confronted her. “I need to know that man’s name.”

  Now all the women in the restroom were not only staring, they’d halted their own conversations so they could hear better. The one woman was still washing her hands.

  Rachel did a slow burn. “I don’t know who you think you are, Derek de Molay, but you need to leave now. Immediately.” She turned her back on him.

  Derek didn’t leave. On the contrary, he actually crowded in next to her, elbowing aside a woman trying to get to the towel dispenser.

  “Listen to me, Rachel Duncan,” he said in a low voice. He stood close to her, talking earnestly to her as if he and she were the only two people in Chicago. “I am not
asking questions out of idle curiosity. I have been sent here to gather information and I do not have time to waste. Something in your life is very wrong!”

  He was so compelling, so serious that she couldn’t help but feel a shiver of fear go through her. Not fear of him. Fear of something unseen, unknown. She stared at him, unable to speak.

  He made an impatient gesture. “Do you think I enjoy being a…a doorman?” He almost couldn’t get the word out. His fist clenched. “Bowing and scraping to people all day long. It is demeaning for one of my birth. But I do it because…Well, never mind that.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “You have to listen to me, Rachel—”

  His hand on her shoulder sent thrills of electricity all through her. She knew she should be offended. She was used to men trying to overpower and intimidate with their masculinity and she knew how to deal with that sort of crap—a high heel into the ankle can work wonders. Yet, here she stood, tingling at his touch. There was something compelling about this man that had her fascinated, kept her mesmerized. He was so earnest, so intent, so caring. She was suddenly tempted to melt against his chest, feel him put his arms around her.

  The thought shocked her, jolted her back to reality. Good grief, had she lost her mind? She was a modern-day business woman being interrogated in the ladies’ room by an obsessed doorman. She was being made to look foolish and she could not allow this to go on.

  Quietly, Rachel said to Derek, “Take your hand off me.”

  He hesitated a moment, then he did as she asked. She stepped around him and swung open the door to return to the restaurant, only to run smack into Zanus.

  “Darling, I was getting worried and I came to check on you.” He paused, staring over her head at Derek. Zanus’s voice hardened. “What is going on here?”

  “Nothing, dear,” she said hurriedly, trying to crowd him out of the door. “It was just a misunderstanding. He’s not from around here and wandered into the wrong restroom. Let’s go finish our dessert.”