Nobody's Angel

by Patricia Rice

  “He's gone to take a leak. This is between you and me.” Sandra picked up the mug Faith had filled and gulped the warm beer before continuing. “I don't need nothing explained to me. Tony was a horse's ass, but he was my horse's ass. Me and him go way back. He was gonna see our kids had better than we did growing up. You were just his ticket into the big-time. He was gonna dump you and put me in one of them big new mansions at the lake. It was gonna be wonderful. And then you had to pull the plug.”

  “Live in your fantasy world if it makes you happy,” Faith replied wearily, half watching the action on stage now. She'd built up a bucket load of adrenaline and fear for a drunken moron. “I have to get back to work. But if you think Al McCowan will help you with Tony's money, you're a bigger horse's ass than Tony. He's a crook, pure and simple, and he's out for anything he can steal.”

  “Now that ain't a nice thing for a lady to say.”

  Faith recognized Sammy Shaw's drawl behind her. The ominous point of metal pressed against her spine froze her first response.

  “Mr. McCowan has a few things he'd like to ask you,” Sammy continued. “Why don't we mosey on out of here and give him a visit?”

  “Sammy, she says she sent me Tony's insurance policy, and she ain't got it. She's not dressed like she's rich.”

  Stay calm, Faith. She took a deep breath as Sandra's whine unfroze her thought processes. “Yeah, Sammy, what happened to that policy?” she taunted. “And what was that note about Tony being alive? Maybe you know something Sandra doesn't?”

  “What?” Sandra screeched, so furious she managed to shove the heavy table toward the opposite seat so she could stand up. “So help me God if that bastard is—”

  “Shut up, Sandra,” Sammy hissed. “You're making a scene. I gave McCowan the policy. He was gonna make it right. Now we're gonna make him clear up a few things. She's the key we need.”

  “I don't think so.” Without giving it a second thought, Faith stepped away from the knife at her back, smashed her beer bottle against the table more as signal than weapon, and swung around to face her antagonist.

  From the corner of her eye Faith watched a half-dozen six-foot-tall men push back their chairs and start across the room in their direction. Faith smiled. Adrian had really stacked the deck this time.

  “Sandy, grab her arms and let's get outta here,” Sammy ordered nervously, not noticing the approaching posse. “She can't do nothing with that damned bottle.”

  “I can, but I won't.” Faith shrugged and tried to look nonchalant while Jim and his friends pushed through the crowd. “Unless you have a gun, you won't get more than three steps from here. I'd suggest you start preparing your story for the police.”

  Sammy glanced around, recognized the determined look on several square-jawed faces, and panicked. Grabbing Faith, he swung her in front of him, holding the knife to her throat.

  Oh, hell. She should have figured stupidity into the equation.

  With a hard downward thrust, she spiked her boot heel into the arch of Sammy's Nike-shod foot. Sammy howled.

  In the next motion, she slashed upward with her broken bottle, aiming for the beefy arm at her throat. Sammy screeched in agony and dropped her like a hot rock as he grabbed his gushing arm.

  Counting on stupidity this time, Faith brandished her beer bottle and swung on Sandra, but Jim already had her clapped in cuffs. Screaming protests and obscenities, Sandra staggered backward into the arms of another officer.

  The room around them erupted in panic as bar patrons retreated to escape the fracas. The band squealed to a halt as all four members disentangled themselves from instruments and leaped from the stage. Seeing the fight ending before they could reach it, they strolled uncertainly toward Faith.

  “Where's Adrian?” Faith demanded of Jim as one of his buddies prepared a hasty bandage to stop Sammy's bleeding.

  “I don't know,” he admitted worriedly. “But we have to take these clowns down to the station. We'll need you to press charges. Adrian can catch up later.”

  “Not until we check the pottery,” she insisted, fear pushing past her adrenaline rush. “Sammy didn't come in here just to harass me. McCowan's up to something.”

  Jim nodded, watching the proceedings carefully as his fellow officers led the Shaws away. “We'll go around that way, check things out, but Adrian takes care of himself.”

  George stepped up, his expression one of concern as he hugged Faith's shoulders. “You all right, babe? Can we help?”

  Not realizing until now how shaken she was, Faith stepped away, trying not to wipe hot tears of terror from her eyes. She didn't have time for comfort and tears, not from this man. She wanted Adrian. Oh, God, please don't let anything happen to Adrian. His family needed him. She needed him, if only to ease her panic, or so she told herself.

  Frantically praying, she edged toward the door. “I'm all right.” Her teeth chattered, and she tried to hide her terror with boldness. “I have to go down to the station, so tell Adrian if he shows up. And stay away from any bulky blond guys in suits if they come nosing around.”

  “Want us to tie them up and haul them down to the station if they show?” George asked teasingly.

  “Yeah, just tie up every big blond that walks through the door,” Jim answered impatiently. “Works for me.”

  “I'll check back with you later,” George called after her. “We could make a good act.”

  Faith tried to smile at his insistence, but singing was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She didn't need that outlet anymore. She needed Adrian. She was insane to ever want any man again, but she needed Adrian to be alive and safe and in the same world she inhabited. She looked to Jim, who nodded toward the door.

  “C'mon. I've got an unmarked out there. We'll find him.”

  They caught the Isuzu as it was leaving the parking lot. Faith shouted a warning, Jim hit the brakes and the blue lights and swung the Crown Vic to block the exit.

  The Isuzu screeched to a halt and a familiar lanky form stepped into the flash of blue.

  “Adrian!” Relief pouring through her like tears, Faith leaped from the police car. Jim followed slowly, but she didn't care if he saw her public display. Flinging herself into Adrian's welcoming arms, she collapsed, babbling, into the unquestioning warmth and security he offered. In a minute she would be herself again. Right now she needed someone who understood and didn't mind if she fell apart.

  “It's okay, querida. Hush, slow down, let me talk to Jim.” As she rattled on about Sammy holding her at knifepoint, Adrian held her close, stroking her hair, but he fixed his brother-in-law with a look over her shoulder. She finally quieted enough for him to sneak a word in edgewise. “There's a barney in back of the shop,” he warned Jim. “If he's awake, he's probably not too happy, but he can't go far.” Hanging around teenagers had expanded his vocabulary more than prison had. He didn't know if the slang referred to purple dinosaurs or the Fifes of this world, but either worked.

  “A barney,” Jim said stoically. “I'm not even going to ask. Just make certain you show up at the station to file the complaint.”

  His car radio spluttered to life and he turned around and pulled out the mike. “Ten-four.”

  Adrian rubbed Faith's slender spine as Jim conversed with the radio. He ached in half a dozen places, but Faith's collapse in tears shook him even more. He didn't know how to tell her about the keys. Piggy had been long gone by the time he'd overcome his captors. “I'm sorry I wasn't there, querida. McCowan decided to go after me instead of you. It took me a while to separate his thugs and straighten things out. I can't believe he sent Sammy after you.” Anger rippled through him. He'd lived in terror these past minutes or hours, wondering what was happening to her.

  “It's okay,” she whispered. “I cut him pretty badly, I think, but he shouldn't die of an arm wound. I think he has his own agenda with Piggy. I was more terrified because you didn't show.”

  He squeezed her tighter. The wings of justice had fled, along with
all his hope. He'd have to let her go soon. Something inside him screamed at the raw injustice of losing the most precious gift in his life right now, but he'd always known she'd never been his to keep. “McCowan's running scared,” he told her calmly. “Maybe we can still catch him.”

  “Run that by me again?” Jim said quizzically into the radio. “She's identified a patient as a dead man? Does she have a doctor with her?”

  Faith stiffened at the same time Adrian did. In unison they stepped closer to the car and the conversation.

  “My wife's never gone crazy before. All right, all right, I'll be there. Tell her I have Adrian with me, and she'll calm down. I have a probable 10–62 out here; better send a car.” Jim hung up the mike, shaking his head.

  “Belinda?” Realizing he was crushing Faith's shoulders, Adrian relaxed his grip, but his stomach hadn't unclenched.

  Jim shrugged. “They brought in a John Doe earlier. He's in critical condition after a car chase this afternoon. The department is working on tracking his car, but Belinda got nosy and took a look after she clocked out. Sarge says she's hysterical, claims the guy is already dead.”

  “Tony,” Adrian said flatly. “She recognized Tony.”

  “Either that or his twin. I had to practically hog-tie her and carry her out of the courthouse at your trial, so she knows what he looks like. But it's been four years.” He looked uncertainly at Faith. “You up for this?”

  “Sammy's note said Tony was alive. I think I've always expected this.”

  She said it with such weariness that Adrian wanted to gather her in his arms and fly away with her to somewhere safe. But if Belinda was right—Faith was still married. He didn't think the bottom of this hole could get any blacker.

  “We'll follow you in the car,” he told Jim. The drive to the hospital would be tense in either vehicle, but he'd rather be alone with Faith while he could.

  She didn't argue. She followed obediently, didn't even demand to take the driver's seat. Adrian swallowed a lump in his throat as he strapped himself in. The light at the end of the tunnel had appeared, and he had a strong feeling it was an express train.

  “He's in critical condition,” he reminded her as he bumped the Isuzu into the street in the path of Jim's car. “He can't hurt you.”

  “I know. It's just so strange …” She didn't complete the thought but stared out the passenger side window.

  “We'll drag your attorney out of bed in the morning, have him dig out the divorce papers as soon as he hits his office.”

  “It might not be him. Four years changes people. Belinda could be mistaken.”

  “Hiding for four years doesn't even make sense,” he agreed. “Pregnancy has loosened her screws. She shouldn't be working now.”

  That riled her enough to shoot him a glare. “She's perfectly healthy and capable of working for as long as she's able. Pregnancy does not rob us of our minds.”

  Anger was better than terror, he supposed. “All right, Belinda has always had a screw loose. Is that better?”

  She crossed her arms and glared out the window. He knew that posture. He might as well give it up now. He wasn't getting anywhere with her in that mood. No point in passing on the rest of the bad news. She had enough on her mind.

  If Tony was alive, Tony knew where the boxes were. Could they stop McCowan with Tony's help, or would McCowan be counting on Tony helping him?

  Determinedly, Adrian hit the gas. He would do anything to prevent his family from slowly sliding back into the sinkhole of poverty. Maybe he could take a tip from Sammy and hold Tony at knifepoint.

  Jim waited for them at the hospital entrance. “Belinda has gone home. I'd better escort Faith to the John Doe's room.”

  He looked at Adrian pointedly, and Faith understood. Jim didn't want murder and mayhem on his shift, and he didn't trust Adrian not to throttle the patient if it turned out to be Tony. Jim didn't understand that she was the one most likely to kill her lying, conniving thief of a husband.

  Adrian fixed her with an enigmatic glare. “I gave McCowan the keys.”

  Faith opened her mouth, but no words emerged. Her stomach did an acrobatic tumble and dived to her feet as she heard what he didn't say. He'd traded his future to keep her from harm. The egotistical ass wasn't all ego after all. Just an ass. And her heart wept tears of joy and anguish. She'd finally fallen for a man who thought of her first, and he would walk right out the door to protect her.

  She wanted to cry at the extent of his sacrifice, but she'd shed enough tears for one night, and she figured there were more to come. She knew what he was asking now. If he couldn't go back there and throttle the information out of Tony, she must.

  This time she had to stand up to Tony in person.

  She nodded to show she understood. “Tony can't hurt me anymore. I'll identify him, and Jim can take it from there,” she said for the sake of appearances.

  Bleakness hid beneath Adrian's fierce gaze, but she couldn't cope with his emotions as well as her own right now. When she'd walked out on Tony, she'd protected herself by thinking of herself as a divorcée. Even after she'd received news of his death, she hadn't thought of it as a husband dying so much as the loss of someone she'd known once long ago. She'd never really confronted the man who had cheated on her. She'd walked out on him instead.

  If that was Tony up there in the bed, she would be his wife again.

  She tried to be calm as Jim led her down antiseptic-scented corridors and up in the elevator, with Adrian trailing behind.

  While Jim checked with the nurses’ station, Adrian picked up a magazine in the waiting room. Faith didn't look back as a nurse in white shoes led her to a room down still another corridor. Jim politely waited outside, but the nurse hustled in, straightening the John Doe's covers, checking the reading on the machines ticking at his side. Faith stood in the doorway and stared.

  Clear plastic tubes ran up his nose. A bandage hid much of his mousy brown hair. He needed a shave. Tony would despise looking like that. Faith's glance fell on the blunt fingers resting on top of the covers. They'd been recently manicured. She tried to determine his height from the prostrate form under the white sheets, but she didn't need to know his height.

  She knew it was Tony.

  A knot the size of an orange choked her throat. She clenched her fingers into balls to keep from crying out.

  He hadn't even been in that plane crash—he'd run away. She understood Tony as clearly as she understood herself. He hadn't been able to deal with his guilt or the collapse of his practice, the divorce, or Sandra and her three kids, so he'd run out on all of them to look for an easier solution than facing his problems.

  All the rage and pain she'd bottled inside for so many years threatened to explode. Throttling him would relieve the pressure, but she'd have to fight the tubing and the wires to reach him. And probably Jim and the nurse as well. She knew when the odds were against her.

  Besides, Tony had the information she needed for Adrian.

  She closed her eyes and let the anger shatter against solid walls. She was whole now. Tony couldn't hurt her anymore. Her freedom was a simple matter of paperwork. What was done was done. The tension rolled out of her, and she breathed easier.

  She opened her eyes and discovered Tony staring back at her, but she was ready for him now. “I think your sons might like to know where you've been.”

  He blinked, breathed a word sounding like “Faith,” and the beeping machine beside him escalated to a high whine. The nurse leaped in, adjusted a dial, and made shooing motions. Faith didn't budge.

  “He needs quiet,” the nurse insisted.

  “He needs to be shot and put out of everyone's misery,” Faith responded. “But he has three boys who deserve to know why their father disappeared for three years. I'm not leaving until I know.” She had no idea why she had taken this tack. Maternal instinct leaping to the fore, perhaps. She realized she didn't have to kill Tony. Sandra would no doubt do it for her. But Tony's children deserved an ex
planation first.

  “Sorry.” The word emerged as a sibilant hiss through the ventilator. “Thought better off without me.”

  “Probably, if you'd left them something to live on. Mighty hard to obtain a death certificate on a man who isn't dead.” She should be feeling sorry for the coward, restraining her temper until he had time to recover, but she'd spent a lifetime restraining her temper. No more. He was lucky she didn't cut his throat.

  He pounded a fist into the sheet and struggled to sit up. The nurse clucked and protested and pushed him back down.

  “Dammit!” The curse came through loud and clear. “She should have had a fortune in insurance! It wouldn't take an asshole to prove me dead. What the f—”

  “Hush, now!” the nurse ordered. “You really must rest, mister … ?” She turned to Faith for answers.

  “Nicholls, Tony Nicholls, father of three lovely boys he deserted.”

  The nurse tutted and looked less sympathetic as she tucked the sheets in place. “I'll mark the charts and tell the policeman waiting outside.” She bustled off, leaving Faith to administer justice as she saw fit.

  “Why did you come back?” she asked, almost idly. After all the panic and fear, she almost felt distant from this man who'd ruined her life in so many ways. He wasn't part of her anymore, just a story left naggingly incomplete.

  He shrugged halfheartedly. “Checking on my money?”

  “You were driving a BMW, so you obviously weren't hurting for that.” He'd taken the stock certificates with him. That thought clicked into place. He'd taken as much of the stock as he could lay his hands on and sold it. Adrian wouldn't be able to refund the debt. But if Adrian could still prove his innocence and Tony's guilt…?

  “Election year coming up.” He tugged impatiently at the tubing blocking his ability to use his snake charmer's voice. “Sandra's a hindrance, but money will buy her. I still have time to file. Thought I could straighten things out, but when I got in last night and called Sammy, he still hadn't found you.”

  Faith stared at him in disbelief. “You thought you'd waltz back into Charlotte and everything would be just as you left it?”