Did she smell funny? Ann hadn’t had a chance to think about personal hygiene, but it was a real possibility. She bent her head on one side, trying to casually sniff her underarm. Yep, she needed a shower, and so did her t-shirt.
She didn’t have to apologize, right? She was human, after all. Yet, embarrassment heated her cheeks.
His little, amused smile didn’t help. “Don’t worry angel, I’ve had worse. Let’s go.”
They walked past the rocking chairs on the porch. Mark kept the heavy blue door open for her and whispered in her ear as she walked in, “Remember to shut up.”
The jolly bells at the door summoned a cheerful, rounded woman with long gray hair falling over her shoulders. “Hello!” she said, smiling from behind half-moon lenses perched at the top of her small nose. “I’m Susan, and welcome to the Nymph Inn! How are we doing today?”
Ann wished she had her cell phone to record Mark’s change. The hard lines around his mouth and the dark shadows under his eyes spoke of a genuine tiredness, but Mark’s eyes were sweet and his smile trustworthy. This new Mark was the ultimate family man. He took Ann’s hand, pulled her closer so that her head could rest on his chest, if she wanted. He still smelled fine – how did he do that?
“Good evening, ma’am.” His voice was gentle, a warm cuddle perfect for his sharpened drawl. “I realize it’s late, but do you happen to have a spare room for my wife and myself? We drove all the way from New York, we’re exhausted.”
“That’s a terribly long way. We have a room, we’ll take good care of you, Mr…?”
“Jackson.”
“Wonderful. If you give me an ID, I’ll take you to your room in no time, Mr. Jackson.”
Mark touched the pocket of his jeans, then patted his jacket. His face fell. “Jane, do you have an ID? Please, honey, tell me you took your purse.”
“Sorry, I didn’t”
Mark shook his head, run a hand over his short hair. “I left my wallet on the nightstand. I have some cash, but no ID.”
With a look of deep distress, he turned to Susan. “See, my sister just had a baby–a baby girl–and I’m her only family. When my brother in law called me, we left without thinking.”
“I can’t give you a room without ID,” Susan replied, apologetic.
“I understand. I was so eager to see my niece.” His face beamed. “She’s the first in the family. I’m an uncle, I guess it’s all I thought about.”
Oh my God, Ann wanted to rub the back of this scatterbrained man, so happy about being an uncle he forgot even his name.
Susan smiled. “Ah, the first baby’s always such a grand moment for a family! Where’s your sister?”
“Tampa. It’s where we are from, originally. I really thought I could do it, but selfish as I am, I didn’t think about my wife. She’s so delicate, and she’s exhausted. I should have thought it through.”
“I’m sorry, but I really can’t let you stay without ID.”
“I know, I know.” He took a long breath, brushed Ann’s cheek with the back of his big hand. “We can park somewhere, have a little rest in the car, I’ll fix the back seat for you, honey. You’ve been nothing but kind,” he said to Susan. “Have a blessed evening, ma’am.”
They didn’t take three steps toward the door before Susan’s voice stopped them. “Oh, heavens… Don’t take another step, Mr. Jackson. I can’t let you go like that, your wife looks so frail. I’d be fretting all night thinking about her, sleeping in a car like a poor waif. She can hardly stand! Come on,” she said, picking a key from the decoupage key cabinet behind her. “I’ll take you to your room.”
He looked so relieved his entire face shone. “You’re an angel, you have no idea what it means to me. Thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome.”
They followed her outside to a small back house. Inside, a world of the past ran along a carpeted corridor full of old paintings of rural life and pretty knickknacks; the hall turned to the left, where one lonely door waited.
“Nobody’s in this part of the Inn, all the other guests are in the main house. This is the most private room.” She winked. “We don’t want too many questions, do we?”
The room was a dream in a dream. The four-poster bed had fluffy pillows and rose petals on candid white sheets. And the tub… a Jacuzzi big enough to hold two people, with little bottles of colored soap on the edge.
Ann was so happy she didn’t even care that the tub dominated the bedroom, not the bathroom. Mark was disinterested enough to keep his eyes somewhere else when she took her bath.
“Would you like some refreshments?” Susan asked. “Some sweet tea? Or lemonade?”
Mark smiled. “No, thank you ma’am. We don’t want to bother you any further.”
“I’ll let you rest, then.”
When she left, the kind version of Mark walked out with her. The door closed and his smile disappeared, the frown came back and his stance turned into his usual martial stiffness. Aware of her poor state, Ann didn’t dare sit on the bed, so clean she would leave stains. She sat cross-legged on the floor as he made his usual round checking windows and doors, shutting the curtains.
She eyed him, irked by how the relief lightened her tension. The other Mark would have been so easy to like, but this one had kept her alive, made her eat and watched over her as she slept. Call her crazy, but she was happy grumpy Mark was back, even though she’d have to face his rage.
She’d expected thunder and lightning for his friend’s death, but something else lurked in his eyes, darker and more dangerous than fury. She wasn’t strong or brave enough to dig deeper now, but she would have to, she knew.
“What do we do now?” she asked, trying to sound brisk.
The only available chair, an antique with a pink cushioned back, looked too small and delicate to hold his weight. It complained with a creak when he sat, but didn’t crush. He stretched out his long legs and crossed his arms. “We go where everything started.”
“Back to New York?”
“That was a consequence.”
“Miami.”
He nodded. “You said Mary lived and worked there. Tell me about her life.”
“I told you about her job, there’s not much more to say. It was a strip club.” Ann chuckled. “At first she was so worried I would be ashamed about it. I swore a million times I didn’t care, but she couldn’t let go. So I promised her I would never set foot in it, if it would make her feel better.”
“You never saw it?”
“No, I gave her my word.”
“Do you know where the club is?”
“South Beach. She moved into a small apartment in Surfside few years ago to be closer.”
“All right. We hit her house first, then we’ll see.”
He rubbed his face, his eyes, where thin red lines marked the white, then rose. “I’ll get some food.”
“Like, outside food? Why don’t we ask the nice lady? She offered food.”
“The less she sees our faces, the better. You scared?”
“Of course I’m scared, and you said you needed to sleep: you should do just that. Here. Let’s just stay here and sleep.”
He surprised her by crouching down. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, his words gruffly tender. “Lock yourself in, don’t open to anyone and stay away from the windows.”
He took his gun. “If someone comes in, don’t be afraid to use it. Safety off,” he said, showing her how to do it. “Shoot and run.” He pushed the gun into her hands. “Here.”
The metal felt cold, hard. “You can’t go out without your gun, what if they–”
He put a finger to her lips. “I’ll be fine.”
Ann found herself alone with the silence. She used to love it – the space of it, the lightness of it. She’d longed for the absence of sounds after a day surrounded by noise and traffic. Her friends called her home the temple, because it was always peaceful.
In the past few days, silence had betrayed her. Her
house had been silent when they’d broken in. The room in Savannah had been still and fraught with muted tension.
Ann shook away the memory of those blue lips once more. Annoyed with herself, she got up. If something had to happen, it would, whether she was worried and scared or not.
She undressed quickly, washed the t-shirt and underwear using the small soap bar in the dollhouse-sized bathroom. Pleasure surged through her as the thick foam on her hands washed away the dirt of the day.
Dipping in the flowery water of the bath was the exact meaning of the word sublime. The pleasure was so pure, the sigh came from her very core. She ducked her head under the warm water, listening to watery sounds for few seconds as her scalp tingled and her hair floated around.
A small blue towel waited at hand’s reach. She rolled it up, put in under her head and closed her eyes.
Ann forced her mind not to think of Mark, alone and with no weapon. She focused on her breathing, feeling the oxygen running in her feet, her legs, her torso, where the water lapped against her skin, up to her head. Her mind was a white space to color as she wanted. Completely, utterly relaxed for once, she sighed.
When she opened her eyes, Mary was standing at the door.
She was beautiful–she’d always been–with her long, blond hair done in a complex chignon and her perfect makeup. Her lips curled, pushing up the little mole on the side of her mouth in her trademark smile. Many men had fallen for it, and for a reason.
The silk of her dress flowed down to her naked feet, glossy black on pale skin.
Relief nearly overwhelmed Ann. Although, why couldn’t she jump out the tub and run to her sister? Something was pinning her inside the tub. Who cared? Mary was alive, walking slowly toward her, smiling. Small drops splashed the floor at every step she took. Was it raining outside?
The drops turned red in front of Ann’s eyes, leaving a trail of blood.
Ann screamed against vertigo. She screamed out of her lungs to run away, run to Mark, but the silence remained unbroken. It was only her open mouth, the strain of the muscles in her throat and more silence.
She tried to reach Mary but a weight kept her trapped. The soundless scream was useless, her thrashing didn’t break the stillness of the water.
Mary’s smile shifted in color and form. Her luscious lips weren’t their usual red, they were blue and twisted into a sneer below unfocused eyes, white eyes. Her hair looked like a tangle of dry blood and mud.
As panic took over, Ann’s fight reached a hasty halt, her eyes fixed on one detail: Mary’s shriveled hand stretching in her direction.
Come with me, Mary said without opening her disfigured mouth, don’t leave me.
Red dirt soiled Mary’s unnaturally long, chipped nails; her fingers were getting closer and closer.
“I can’t,” Ann thought, desperate, “I can’t.”
She followed Mary’s hand reaching out and resting on her chest. It had changed again, now big and warm against her skin, real. It pushed her down.
Ann screamed but the water filled her mouth, her nose, her lungs. She grasped the strong arm keeping her down, fought, blindly scratching at whoever was trying to drown her, but it wasn’t enough.
Slowly, everything faded.
Chapter 6
The empty streets were a maze of similar houses and trimmed gardens; new SUV and older trucks slept in the driveways. Dark shadows moved in the light beyond the soft curtains of cozy homes.
The warm glow didn’t reach Mark’s side of the road. He scanned his surroundings, realized the chances of finding a pay phone, or food, were thin. If something didn’t come up in ten more minutes, he decided, someone would report a breaking and entering in the morning.
Hands shoved in his pockets, Mark tried to quiet his thoughts and angled his face to the weak breeze, letting it stroke him.
Ann had watched the gun with eyes so big he thought they would pop out. The almost smile the memory had conjured died with the next thought: he should have stayed. She was too untainted to deal with guns, too innocent to play that game: A game that changed when he’d discovered Mouse and become a player. Why? The question boomed in his mind.
He risked his life on a daily basis, but for others, never for himself. And if he was in danger, if this enemy hunted out a safe house, they could do the same with people he loved. His sister.
The hair on his nape rose, and he quickened the pace.
He had followed his sister’s life from far in the fifteen years they hadn’t spoken: two kids, a nice husband who took good care of her. A few years back, they had moved away from the sandy village she and Mark had grown up in, and settled into the bigger town of Port Saint Lucie, Florida.
The phone appeared like a rusty oasis, old and scarred, but working. Mark broke the little light inside, more comfortable in the darkness.
He’d always imagined a different scenario for his first words to her. Too bad, he scowled. The point of the call was to warn her, not catching up. He punched in the numbers, the only phone number he had memorized, repeated each night to be sure he wouldn’t lose that feeble link with his roots.
Mark hated how he had to concentrate on simply breathing as seconds ticked by.
“Hello?” She had the voice of a full woman now, but the texture of it, the sound of it, sent Mark on a trip through time to a hot, sticky night when he’d called her to pick him up, drunk as only a sixteen-year-old boy can be. She’d been sleepy then, too, and like that time, tonight she cleared her throat.
“Mandy, it’s Mark.”
From her, a long exhalation of breath. “Are you all right?”
Mark had to blink a couple of times. He hadn’t expected concern. It clashed against the anger they’d felt all those years ago, and the regret that had followed. “Yes. You have to leave.”
“Well, isn’t that precious?” Her voice dropped to a furious whisper. “Thank God the kids are still up, or I’d tell you exactly what I think about you.”
“I know what you think, you made it clear already. I want you out of your house. Tonight. Take the kids and go somewhere new for a while. Don’t use credit cards or cell phone. Stay there until I come and get you.”
She didn’t say a word for a while and when she did, the strain was heavy in her voice. “Why?”
“Some people want a woman dead. I still have no idea why, but I’m the only one between her and them.”
“There’s more,” she stated.
“Something’s wrong with the people I work with. Whoever’s out there might try to get to me through you.”
“Yes, because we are so close.”
Mark clenched the receiver so fiercely his knuckles whitened. “Like it or not, you’re my family and I want you safe. The only way I know how to protect you is to stay away from you, and tell you to disappear.”
“You know what?” she asked, her voice stronger with indignation. “You can’t call after fifteen years, tell me to take off and expect me to believe your story and graciously obey.”
He would hammer some common sense into his sister’s stubborn head, if it was the last thing he did. But in the blaze of his temper, Ann’s voice sneaked in – ask gently. He would walk a long way to keeping Mandy safe but, damn it, beg her? Mark clenched his teeth, nearly choked on a word alien to his mouth. “Please, Mandy.”
There was another pause, a sight. “All right.”
“When it’s over, I’ll find you.”
Mark hung up before saying another word. He had what he needed to keep his mind on the job. Mandy was his sister, their father had taught them how to disappear, how to survive. She would keep herself and her family safe until he could get her back.
One last thing to do: find the food he’d promised. He didn’t even bother to look for a restaurant or a fast food. Instead, he walked back to the hotel, snuck into the master kitchen and helped himself to some pie and a couple of apples before walking to his room. He stopped in front of the door ready to knock, but his hand remained midair.<
br />
The sound was muffled, forced him to lean over, his ear brushing the wood. From the inside, splashing of water too frantic for an ordinary bath.
Mark’s heart froze, shattered, and sent spikes of enraged adrenaline into his system. Carefully, soundless like a tiger stalking his victim, he laid down the food. He reached for the gun in the holster, swore when he found it empty. He backed a few steps and charged the door with his shoulder. It splintered, then opened with a loud crack.
Dressed head to toe in black, a man kneeling beside the tub spun around, his hands still around Ann’s neck. Nothing lit his eyes – no fear, no remorse, only a mild surprise.
Mark lunged on him before he could react. The force of the impact pushed them away from Ann, a tangle of hard muscles that crashed into one another with the only purpose of killing.
The man was a good fighter, landed some fists, but was no match for the years in the Marines, nor with Mark’s strength. Before he realized it, Mark was behind him, one hand on the man’s chin and the other on the back of his head. When Mark twisted the head, the spinal cord broke with a sickening crack.
Mark shrugged the limp corpse off and ran to the tub. Ann seemed to wait for him –unmoving, caged by the shapeless chains of water, golden hair floating.
Deaf to the wild booming of his heart he lifted her up and laid her on the floor. She wasn’t breathing. He closed her nostril, put his mouth on hers and breathed into her, praying all along. It’d been so long since he’d found someone worth fighting for, someone brave enough to keep battling for the right to live one more day.
She has to live. Please, God, let her live.
She came back with a lurch, coughing up and spitting water.
He had to sit for a second as the dizziness of relief flooded him. When he cradled her in his lap she guzzled air, ravenous, clinging to his shirt as her glazed eyes pleaded him to tell her what to do. He willed his voice not to shake as he ordered, “Breathe. Keep breathing. It’s all right, just keep breathing.”
Her labored panting subsided, but her fingers dug into his chest when he tried to ease away. “I’m right here,” he crooned, tightening his grip on her. “I have to close the door, someone might have heard the noise. Just hold on to me, can you do that?”
Guns For Angels Page 4
