Nobody's Angel

by Patricia Rice

  “If I had any ego left after prison, you've tromped on the remains of it. It's all right, I'm getting used to it.” He waved away her protests as he straddled the kitchen chair and took another swig of coffee.

  “We're wearing on each other's nerves already,” she said calmly. She refused to be insulted, refused to act the part of lovesick moron. “We need our lives back. That's not going to happen while we wait for banks to answer those letters. You said you'd call the D.A. personally. What did he say?”

  “Just that I'd better be certain to report to my parole officer on time or he'd come after me. Face it, they won't take this seriously. I'm not part of the Establishment, and I don't count for anything more than gum on the soles of their shoes.”

  Faith shoved the legal pad in his direction. “Fine. Then when we crack this case, I'll bring a whole pack of chewing gum with me to the courthouse.”

  “You're as certifiable as Sandra, you know that?” Looking at her in disbelief, Adrian shook his head and picked up the paper. “What's this?”

  “The questions you need to ask Sandra, or her brother.” Faith spun her pen in circles on the table. “Considering Sandra's chronic lack of cash, what are the chances that her brother is behind the break-ins?”

  Adrian glowered at her. “That's how I have it figured. I just need to break a few heads first so I can get at him.” He shoved his chair back from the table and stood.

  “You won't find him without Sandra's help.”

  “You want to put a little wager on that?” Without stopping to hear her reply, he reached for the phone and began pounding numbers.

  She would have to remember that Adrian wasn't Tony in more ways than one. Tony had been even-tempered and imperturbable, seldom indulging in tantrums. When he did indulge, they exploded uselessly, damaging only her.

  Compared to Tony's passivity, Adrian was a fountain of moods and emotions, but not only had he never damaged her, he'd showered her with more pleasure than she'd known in her life.

  In return for that pleasure, she could tolerate quite a few temperamental fits.

  Adrian sat in the darkened bar booth, nursing a mug of coffee. He'd come a long way from the night when he sat waiting for Faith to appear on stage, slowly cracking with brittle tension as his life fell apart. He was still angry, and he was still tense, but his sense of purpose had strengthened and focused. He was calm and certain and on top of things for a change, and he had Faith to thank for that.

  He sipped the coffee and tried not to dwell on how Faith had turned him around. He owed the lady a lot.

  The “lady” in question would tear him apart when she discovered what he was doing. She thought he was at the pottery. He'd left her merrily preparing a tortilla fiesta with Belinda and the kids. Jim had the night off, and his cruiser sat outside the house as a warning to Shaw or any other pervert who might think Faith an easy target. Once he reached the bottom of this little matter, she would never have to worry again. She could go back to her real life.

  That was a little time bomb he wouldn't dwell on. Faith had her own life. He couldn't keep her from it any longer than necessary.

  If he could actually find the evidence of Tony's crime, he had a shot at having a life of his own. He wouldn't raise his hopes to the level of what he could have if he found the money, too.

  His stomach churned as he watched the woman working her way across the dance floor toward him. For whatever reason, Sandra had chosen the “country” look for this meeting—skintight jeans, fake alligator boots, and a fringed leather shirt hanging over a spandex tank top that revealed everything beneath. Time was not kind to a figure like Sandra's.

  “How ya hangin’, honey?” She slid into the seat across from him and dropped her feathered ten-gallon hat on the table.

  Adrian signaled the waitress and ordered a beer while fighting for a straight face. He had a feeling Sandra watched entirely too many movies and needed a real life. Tony had probably done that to her. He ought to feel sorry for another of Tony's victims, but she'd had four years to pick up and move on—as Faith had done.

  “How did you recognize me?” Adrian sipped his coffee while waiting for Sandra's beer to arrive.

  “Saw you at the trial, honey. I was there, in the front row. Don't you remember? I kept hoping they'd fry that little bitch of Tony's. I hated to see a man like you go to waste. I was real glad to hear from you.”

  He hadn't watched the audience at the trial. It had been too humiliating, and he'd needed all his concentration on the proceedings. He took her word for it now. “Well, I was sorry to hear about Tony, even if he was an elephant's ass.” They'd got the preliminaries out of the way through phone calls during his prison days, when he'd convinced her Faith had the money and they could get it if they worked together. He'd been interested in evidence at the time, but Sandra's fixation had been money. He was probably solely responsible for Shaw trashing Faith's store and apartment. At the time he'd planted the seeds of suspicion in their infantile minds, it had never occurred to him that Faith might be completely innocent.

  “If I had a penny for every promise Tony made me—”

  “He might have kept them had he lived.” He didn't want sob stories. He wanted facts. “We just need to figure where he left it. Have you come up with any new clues?”

  She looked coy as she sipped her beer from the bottle and batted her lashes. Setting the bottle down, she left red stains on her paper napkin as she politely dabbed her lips. “Now, honey, we've been over this. I told you I don't know anything about anything.”

  “Don't play games, Sandra,” he warned, sitting up straight and staring her in the eyes. She shrank back slightly, and he didn't feel guilty in the least. “All I'm after is the books. You can have the rest. Can anyone else honestly tell you that?” Of course, he was lying through his teeth, too. If he could turn that money back to the bar association and prove his innocence at the same time, he could have his license back.

  But his words had their effect. She looked momentarily uncertain. Adrian gave her credit for a certain wily cleverness when it came to men and money.

  She sat up straighter and wiped the sweat off her bottle with her finger. “Sam wouldn't cheat me or the kids. He's looking out for us.”

  “Sam? Your brother?” At her vague nod, he pushed further. “Wasn't he best buddies with Tony? And maybe with Tony's buddies?”

  She looked a little startled but didn't deny it. “Sam didn't have no fancy education like Tony, but he's done good. He knows all Tony's lawyer and banker friends.”

  “Did he tell you he's found Tony's wife?” He was shooting in the dark, but he was a darned good lawyer. He knew his target.

  He watched as Sandra's expression clouded with suspicion and fury, just as he'd calculated.

  “Where is the bitch? I'll pull all that straw hair out of her head for what she's done to my boys. They've practically been starving on the streets while she lives a hog's life.”

  He'd have to remember to tell Faith that one. A hog's life. She'd love the irony. “I think you'd better ask your brother that. Sounds like he's been keeping a few secrets.”

  “What do ya mean?” She took a big gulp of the beer, nearly draining it.

  Adrian signaled for another. “Did he tell you Faith is here in town?” If Sammy-boy hadn't told her Faith was in town, he hadn't mentioned she was with him either.

  “Here? In Charlotte? Since when?”

  He could almost see the smoke rising. He wouldn't jeopardize Faith this way if he thought Sandra dangerous. He could handle her. It was Sammy-boy he wanted to smoke out of the woodwork.

  He shrugged. “Saw her at a nightclub. She doesn't look too rich. I'm wondering if Tony didn't have someone else he gave the money to, one of his banker friends maybe. She didn't look like she's benefited from it.”

  “Sam was Tony's only real friend,” Sandra said adamantly, quaffing the new beer as soon as it arrived. “Sam introduced me and Tony back in high school. Even when Tony went off
to that fancy college, he and Sam worked together. We were all just kids when I got knocked up, and none of us had any money. So Tony and Sammy put in a crop out in the back field, and when they sold it, Tony put a down payment on a double-wide for me and the baby. He always tried to do right by us.”

  Adrian didn't bother asking what kind of crop two men with no equipment could put in that would earn enough for a down payment on a mobile home. He knew. Marijuana was probably North Carolina's biggest agricultural cash producer, if anyone kept records. He wondered how many of those crops Tony raised and if he was still raising them when he married Faith. Tony had to have some way of hiding the payments on Sandra's dream home. The banker friend, perchance?

  “Well, if Tony always tried to do right by you,” he said carefully, leading her down the garden path, “then he wouldn't have stopped after he was dead. He meant for you and the kids to have something. We just have to find it. If Sammy didn't tell you about Faith, what else isn't he telling you?” Looked to him like Sammy-boy was playing a double game of some sort. Or protecting his sister from his criminal activities?

  Talking obviously made her thirsty. Sandra gulped another half a bottle before answering, then slammed the bottle against the table. “That's what I'd like to know. Men are all shit-sucking turds. I've got a thing or two to ask that bastard when he gets home.”

  “Now, Sandra, let's be sensible.” He didn't mind prying Sammy out of the woodwork, but he'd prefer it not be with knife in hand—not until he had what he wanted, anyway. “He may be trying to protect you. He doesn't know you're seeing me, does he?”

  She shook her head and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Wrong choice of words, Quinn, he admonished mentally.

  “Well, let's keep it that way for a while,” he said nonchalantly. “I'll work at the things I know, maybe try to find out something from Faith. If you can tell me anything your brother has found out, maybe I can use it to pry information out of her.”

  Sandra muttered something foul and signaled for the waitress on her own. “She's the cause of all this, the whore.”

  Adrian didn't want to know the convoluted reasoning behind that statement. He didn't want to be stuck with Tony's drunken mistress for the night either. He pulled out his cash to indicate he was ready for the tab to stop rolling. “Well, then, she's paying her dues now,” he said offhandedly, counting his remaining dollars. He had time to earn a few dollars more. He still hadn't learned the name of Sam's attorney friend, though.

  “She doesn't have three kids to feed.” Sandra finished off her second beer as the waitress brought the third. “She snared Tony while I was carrying the twins. He was supposed to get a fancy job after graduation, and we were gonna get married, and she came along, and wham! Claimed he'd knocked her up, and her big-shot daddy would ruin him if he didn't marry her. There's no justice in the world for people like me.”

  Not when they believed lying sons of bitches like Tony anyway. From what Adrian had gathered from Faith's comments, her father probably would have patted Tony on the back and politely told him to go to hell. “No justice for either of us,” he reminded her. “That's why we have to look out for ourselves. If you could just remember who Sam is working with, maybe I could find out something.” He shoved his wallet into his back pocket.

  Sandra glared at him blearily. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I don't want anything from you, and I have six kids at home who need feeding as much as yours do,” he offered. “I need to prove my innocence so I can work again.”

  At this point she could either say screw him or tell him what he wanted. He didn't have the patience for more. Time was running out.

  She rubbed her hand up and down the bottle and shrugged. “Come home with me and I'll give you the guy's business card.”

  No way, José. Adrian stood up. “I have to get to work. Give me a call if you remember, and I'll look the guy up, see if he's legit.”

  Seeing opportunity slip away, Sandra hastily backpedaled. “Wait a minute, honey. Don't be in such a hurry. I might have something right here.” She pulled out a wallet splitting at every seam and stuffed with ten years’ worth of receipts. Emptying the contents on the table, she shuffled through them until she found what she sought. “Here it is. I can't read it in this light.”

  The light wasn't that bad. Sandra needed glasses. Adrian scanned the name, whistled, and handed it back to her. “You're a class act, lady. I'll get back to you.” He walked off before she could stuff all the bits of paper back in place and follow him.

  Outside the bar, he gestured to Jim's waiting off-duty partner. He would owe a hell of a lot of favors if he ever cracked this case, but if he could salvage his license, he could repay them easily. For the first time in weeks, he thought he actually might have a chance, and excitement screamed through his veins.

  “She shouldn't be driving, Hank,” Adrian told the younger man. “Keep her company, drive her home, and I'll have Cesar pick you up. Be careful. Her brother apparently has a knack for growing and selling pot and may still be in the business. If there's any way you can, keep an eye on him. But if he's doing business with McCowan now, you and Jim may have a case too hot to handle.”

  The cop raised his eyebrows. “Mac Junior or Senior?”

  “I'd say Junior is the right age and temperament, wouldn't you?”

  Hank offered a profane description that suited Adrian's opinion completely. The name on Sandra's card had been Al McCowan, Jr., heir presumptive of one of the city's wealthiest bankers, groomed for success in the best schools and best society. As a teenager he'd been in more trouble with the law than any coke addict off the streets. He'd apparently learned discretion with age.

  “The D.A. ain't gonna like this one at all.” Hank shook his head in sympathy.

  “You don't think the D.A. knew about it all along?” With a cynical shrug, Adrian walked away.

  He had had no way of knowing about McCowan, hadn't seen it coming, but he should have. Birds of a feather and all that. If Tony had crooked cash, McCowan would have crooked accounts to stash it in. Last he remembered, Mc-Cowan, Jr. had a fancy office in the same bank building he and Faith had visited when they hit town. The man must have eyes in the back of his head or spies on every floor, Adrian thought, but he would wager everything he'd ever earn that Junior had known the instant he'd walked through that door with Faith in tow.

  Damn, but he was a stupid shit. Why had he dragged Faith into this?

  There was no way on God's green earth that McCowan was helping a nobody like Sam Shaw for altruistic purposes. They had joint goals, and chances were good, once they were accomplished, Sam Shaw wouldn't be the beneficiary. Neither would Sandra. Men like McCowan didn't survive by dispensing charity.

  Men like McCowan didn't dirty their hands by trashing apartments and terrorizing people either. That had to be Shaw's work. Tony certainly had kept lovely company.

  He needed to talk this out with Faith. She knew Tony better than anyone.

  He couldn't mix Faith up in dangerous company.

  Shit and hellfire, he wished he could call out the National Guard. Instead, all he had for backup was a half-dozen siblings and half the potters in the state.

  Would David have tackled Goliath with a pot shard and a taco?

  Faith listened as the back door to the Raphael home quietly opened and shut. She'd recognized the knocking motor of Cesar's van as it pulled into the drive, and she sat up in bed to wait for Adrian's appearance. Something was wrong. She'd known it the moment Adrian hadn't taken her to the pottery with him but left her here instead. She assumed it had something to do with finding Sam Shaw, and Adrian's determination to solve this problem on his own.

  She should let him. It wasn't any of her concern. She flatly refused to be responsible for anyone else ever again.

  But she couldn't help worrying.

  When he didn't immediately come to her, she debated lying down and going to sleep. To hell with temperamental men anyway. Who neede
d them?

  But she'd never sleep unless she knew what was wrong. What if it affected Dolores or Cesar or one of the other kids? Adrian didn't have the right to risk them. She couldn't live with herself if anything happened to them, not after understanding what Tony had done by cheating Adrian of his livelihood. If she'd known at the time, she would have turned Tony's money over to the Raphaels. Of course, back then she'd thought Adrian guilty as hell and hadn't known his family existed.

  Creeping down the hallway so as not to wake anyone, she found Adrian sprawled on the living room couch, shielding his eyes against the pale glow of a table lamp as he scribbled on a notepad. She wondered if he'd taken up her habit of jotting down mental notes or if he'd always done that.

  “Where's Cesar?” she asked, deriving some satisfaction from startling him into dropping the pen. She'd thought Cesar would sleep on that couch, and that she and Adrian would be returning to the apartment. They couldn't share a bed here.

  “Studying, I hope.” He picked up the pen again and avoided looking at her.

  “Don't think so.” She shoved his long legs aside and sat down. She'd never particularly thought of herself as capable of doing anything so shamelessly familiar with a man she'd only known a few weeks, but Adrian had stripped her of any veneer of shyness or reserve she might once have possessed. “Jim called and Cesar took off like cannon shot. Something's up.”

  He shrugged. “They have lives. It was Jim's night off. They're probably playing pool.”

  “Jim picked Belinda up at nine. Cesar didn't come back. You're here and not at the apartment. Something's going down and you're not telling me.” She didn't even bother disguising it as a question. She wasn't a fool, and she wasn't playing one again.

  He dropped the notepad on his stomach and glared at her impatiently. “Look, I'm taking care of things, all right? I've fucked up your life and now I'm going to fix it. We'll go car shopping in the morning, and then maybe in a day or two you can have your life back. That's what you want, isn't it?”