Reckless Angel Read online

  Toni was tired of playing games with Nick.

  “Why would you deliberately put yourself into the middle of a shooting match?” she asked him.

  Nick caught her chin and tilted it up so he could stare down into her eyes. She hoped to God he couldn’t see what caused the intense burning behind them. “Don’t tell me you were worried about me.”

  She jerked her chin free, angry because she had been worried, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. “Dream on, Manelli.”

  “I will if you will, del Rio.”

  He was referring to her dream of last night, of course. She could have slapped him for that remark. She couldn’t help it if her subconscious mind was unstable enough to conjure up images of him. Of them…

  Dear Reader,

  The story you are about to read was the very first one I ever published. Now, thirty (closer to forty) books later, this story and these characters remain as key players in one of the most memorable days of my life.

  Picture it: small-town U.S.A. in the summer of 1992. A harried young mother of five little girls with a dream—a dream she’s been steadfastly pursuing for more than five years. I didn’t work outside the home then—my husband, Rick, and I had an agreement that I’d get an outside job when little Lisa went to school, and that time was drawing very near. Rick was driving a semi more than seventy hours a week, hauling 8,000 gallons of gasoline at a time, like pulling a time bomb behind him, to support us all. But as August wore on and September drew near, and I began looking at the want ads, my hero husband told me to forget it. “You’re close,” he said. “I can feel it. Forget our deal. You can’t stop writing.”

  Then came August 24. I returned home from grocery shopping to find a message waiting. An editor would call me back later. I was almost afraid to hope, but she did call back and all the girls crowded around me, listening. They’d been with me on this journey for more than five years. They understood how hard I had tried, how many times I had been rejected and gone to bed crying, only to drag myself back to the typewriter to try again. They knew what it meant when that editor told me that one of the stories I had written was going to be published by Silhouette Intimate Moments. And when I put the phone down, you never heard so much shrieking, squealing laughter in your life.

  This book, this very story, was the turning point from struggling, aspiring author, writing stuff that was “close but not quite right,” to professional author living a lifelong dream. Reckless Angel was the key that unlocked the door to my future. It’s as precious to me as a part of my family.

  Enjoy!

  Best always,

  MAGGIE SHAYNE

  RECKLESS ANGEL

  MAGGIE SHAYNE

  Maggie Shayne is the author of more than thirty novels, including women’s fiction, romance, suspense and paranormal fiction. Maggie has made a name for herself on the USA TODAY and New York Times extended bestseller lists, and is the winner of numerous awards, including two Romantic Times Career Achievement Awards, a National Readers’ Choice Award and the coveted Daphne du Maurier Award. She has been nominated seven times by the Romance Writers of America for the RITA® Award. Maggie resides in the town of Otselic in central New York State with her family and faithful bulldog Wrinkles. Watch for her new romantic suspense title Colder Than Ice, due out in November 2004 from MIRA Books. Visit Maggie on the Web at www.maggieshayne.com.

  To Rick, whose belief in me never wavered,

  even when my own did

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 1

  In the murky, rain-veiled light that spilled into the alley, Nick watched. The man who called himself “Viper” leaned over, his face alternately beige and bright orange in the flickering light of a broken neon sign. Viper grunted as he pulled the blade from the dead man’s chest. Nick turned up his collar when the rain came down colder and harder than before. He was glad of the rain. There would be less blood.

  Something moved and Nick gave a quick glance up and down the alley, simultaneously lifting the 9 mm automatic. The gun’s muzzle moved in perfect unison with his eyes until he found the source of the sound in an overflowing trash bin. Red eyes glowed in a shiny black coat for an instant before the rat scurried away. Nick relaxed and turned back toward the little man with the pinched face and the intimidating nickname. In truth, he looked more like a weasel than a snake. “We can’t have Vinnie ID’ed right away,” Nick reminded him. “You know the drill.”

  Viper shook his head, but his slicked-back hair didn’t move. “I’ve done my part.” He wiped the blade over the dead man’s lapel and started to stand.

  Nick worked the action of the Taurus he held, and Viper’s head snapped toward him. “Lou sent me to witness the hit, not clean up after it. You don’t want to do it, either—that’s fine with me. Just let me come along when you tell Lou why Vinnie was ID’ed before he was stiff.” Nick knew his voice was like cold steel. He wanted it that way. He pretended great interest in the blue-black barrel of his gun while Viper made up his mind.

  After a long moment Viper knelt again to begin removing items from the dead man’s pockets, taking the ring from his finger, ripping the tags from his clothes. He handed these to Nick and bent once more, this time intent on rubbing the limp fingertips back and forth over rough pavement until no trace of a print remained. Nick stuffed the victim’s belongings into a plastic zipper bag and pushed it into the pocket of his raincoat. Viper pulled a small-caliber revolver from his own coat, held it two inches from the dead face and thumbed the hammer back.

  A sound like a gag, or someone choking, made them both freeze and turn their heads slowly toward the entrance where a woman stood, frozen. For an instant Nick’s gaze locked with hers. She stared right at him, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was memorizing his every feature, better to describe him to the local cops she intended to call. Viper leveled his gun at her as she tore her gaze away and whirled to run.

  “No!” Nick swung one arm downward, knocking Viper’s muzzle off target before the other man had a chance to pull the trigger. “Finish this job, dammit. I’ll take care of her.” He spun and ran for the opposite end of the alley. He knew she’d head that way—to the closest place with lights and people. He vaulted the mesh fence that blocked the alley at the nearest end and landed with a jarring thud on the pavement. He jogged over the sidewalk, keeping close to the buildings.

  He stopped when he heard her heels smacking along the wet sidewalk and waited to step into her path when she came around the corner at breakneck speed.

  She careened into his chest. He felt the heat emanating from her, heard her ragged breathing. “Thank God,” she said on a noisy exhale. “Take me to a phone, fast, I—” She looked up into his eyes and she knew.

  Before she could pull back, he clamped his hands on her shoulders. When her full lips parted, Nick said, “Scream and you die, lady.” She didn’t. She pressed her lips tight and swallowed hard. Nick saw her fear. He felt it. It surrounded her like a halo of light around a candle’s flame. He watched her, ready to react to her slightest move.

  She had a mane of wild black curls that hung nearly to her waist and glittered with the clinging raindrops reflecting the city lights. Her eyes—they looked black, too, but he couldn’t be sure in the darkness—were wide with fear, but alert and intelligent. She was small, so she wouldn’t be hard to handle. The top of her head didn
’t reach his chin.

  He heard footsteps in the distance, half trot, half shuffle—Viper’s unmistakable gait. If Nick didn’t think of something fast, the little bastard would probably put them both on ice. He held the gun under her nose, so she could get a good look. She refused to glance down. She stared up at him instead, her eyes still afraid but defiant. He could see the wheels turning behind those eyes. It surprised him to realize that he knew what she was thinking. She was weighing the odds, waiting for a chance. She’d bolt at the first opportunity and then she’d end up dead.

  “Listen to me and listen good.” Nick used his best street voice and most intimidating tone. “The guy you hear coming is a killer—a pro. When he gets here he’s gonna make you his next job, then he’s gonna do the same for me ‘cause I didn’t off you myself. Now, you have one chance to live beyond the next few minutes. You wanna see tomorrow, you do what I say, to the letter. You got it?”

  She didn’t acknowledge the question in the slightest, but just kept watching him with those unbelievably huge, liquid eyes. He blinked and made himself continue. “When I let you go, turn around and run. I’m gonna fire one shot, and you’re gonna hit the pavement and play dead for all you’re worth.”

  Viper’s footsteps drew nearer. Her gaze flicked away from his to glance back over her shoulder. She looked up at him again, a little of the defiance gone. “What if I don’t?” The words sounded as if they were forced through a space too small for them.

  “If you don’t, lady, then the second shot will be for real.” He let the words fall heavily between them, saw her go a shade paler. She nodded once.

  Nick drew a steadying breath, released her shoulders and stepped aside to let her go by him. “Go.”

  She ran from him. Nick waited to be sure Viper had a good view, then raised the gun, aiming well over her head. He closed his finger on the trigger. He never realized he’d been holding his breath until she went down and he released it all at once. She lay still, facedown on the sidewalk some forty feet away. Viper reached him a second later.

  “You get her?”

  Lights came on in apartment windows. Nick had no doubt that someone was dialing 911. “You got eyes. How could I miss?”

  Viper looked toward the girl and started forward. “Damn, that broad looked familiar.”

  “Where’s Vinnie?” Nick’s barked question stopped the other man in his tracks.

  “In my trunk.”

  “Get him the hell outta here. This place will be crawling with cops any minute.” Viper looked toward her again, and Nick saw the doubt in his eyes. Viper needed more convincing. Nick dug into his pocket and emerged with his keys. He tossed them to the smaller man. “My car’s around the corner. Get it over here.”

  “What do I look like, a damn parking attendant?”

  A head poked from a window above, then ducked back inside. The window closed with a bang. Viper muttered a curse and dashed around the corner, moving unevenly but quickly. Within two minutes he brought Nick’s car to a screeching halt at the curb. Nick was already bending over her. He rolled her onto her back, and she went like a wet rag. Perfectly limp. She was putting on one hell of a show. He grabbed her under the arms and pulled her up and over his shoulder. He wrapped one arm firmly around her thighs to hold her there and turned toward the car.

  Her hands dangled loosely against his back. Her legs felt cold beneath his hand. Stupid woman, he thought, walking around in a skirt on a night like this. “Pop the trunk, Viper.” His thumb inadvertently touched the garter that held up her stocking. Nick’s mouth went dry.

  He moved to the rear of the car as Viper hit the button inside and the trunk slowly lifted. He dumped her unceremoniously inside, hard enough so Viper could feel the car sink with her weight. He checked to be sure all of her was in, then slammed the trunk hard. Viper got out of the car, and Nick hurried to slide behind the wheel. “Where you dumpin’ Vinnie?”

  “East River,” Viper answered quickly. He was nervous now. A faint siren came wailing from somewhere, and his eyes danced in their sockets.

  “I’ll take her somewhere else. We don’t want any connections,” Nick said. “Let’s go.”

  Viper nodded and hurried into the darkness like a cockroach when the lights come on.

  Nick managed to avoid the police, taking side streets until he was certain he hadn’t been followed. He pulled to the curb on an empty street, between a crumbling, condemned heap and a weedy vacant lot. Most of the streetlights had been shot out or demolished with stones. He thumbed the trunk latch button and ran to the rear of the car as it lifted.

  The rain fell harder. He tightened the belt of his raincoat and leaned inside. The only light was the tiny bulb that came on whenever the trunk was opened. “Come on out,” he said softly, glancing around once more to be sure he wasn’t being watched. She didn’t move. He leaned lower, frowning. “Lady, you can cut the act now.” He pushed at her shoulder with one hand. She remained as she was, a small, unmoving bundle. Nick’s blood slowed to a stop in his veins. Could he possibly have—

  “Oh, hell…” He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. When she still didn’t respond, he found himself frantically pushing the damp, tangled masses of hair away from her face in search of an exit wound or a trace of blood. He bent so close to her, he could smell her perfume. It wrapped around his mind and tugged. He saw the tiny beads of moisture clinging to her face.

  When her feet suddenly slammed into his solar plexus it was like an explosion. He stumbled back, pain shooting outward in every direction from his middle. He doubled over, struggling to draw a breath, and so far failing. When he finally blinked enough moisture from his eyes to see straight and managed to unbend himself and actually inhale, he glimpsed her running like hell in the direction they’d come from. He swore violently and dove back into the car, pulling it around in a noisy doughnut and slamming the accelerator to the floor. The car overtook her in seconds, but she veered into the lot. Nick pulled over, got out and sprinted after her.

  His legs were longer, more powerful, but God, she could run. Her feet flew and her hair billowed behind her. She’d kicked off her shoes somewhere along the way. The lot was thick with tall grasses and weeds, and Nick’s legs were soon soaked to the skin. His shoes were so wet it was hard to keep from slipping. Still, he gained on her.

  With one final burst he leapt on her, taking her to the ground in a tackle that was brutal. He came down on top of her and in two quick movements he rolled her over and clasped her wrists in one hand. He held them to the ground over her head. She struggled, and he dropped his body on top of hers, stilling her instantly. “You try that again and I’ll tie you up so tight you’ll be lucky if you can breathe. You reading me?”

  Her eyes flashed anger at him, and her breath came in shuddering gasps. “I’m supposed to come along peacefully, is that it? You want me to load the gun for you, too, before you blow my head off?”

  It was the most she’d spoken to him, and Nick was surprised that her voice was deep and sultry, not soft and high-pitched as he would have expected from someone her size. She had a voice like Hepburn or Bacall. A voice that—a voice that distracted him from the matter at hand, dammit. “If I’d wanted you dead, you’d be playing a harp by now,” he ground out, irritated. His grip on her wrists tightened when she tried to pull them free. Her breath was warm on his face in contrast to the chill breeze.

  She twisted beneath him, trying to wriggle out from under him—a futile attempt. He pressed himself harder against her, his chest jammed so firmly into hers that each shaky breath she drew lifted him. He knew he must be hurting her.

  When she saw that her struggling was useless, she stopped. He eased the pressure of his body on hers. “What are you going to do with me?” she finally asked.

  “Keep you quiet about what you saw in that alley tonight. That’s all.”

  “That’s all,” she mocked. “You might as well shoot me and get it over with, then. You can’t lie on top of me forev
er.” The venom in her voice was real, and he was shocked she could do more than cower in fear and swear she’d never utter a word if he’d only let her go.

  “You’ve got a smart mouth on you, lady. I don’t need to keep you quiet forever. Just for a few days.” His common sense whispered that it would likely be closer to a few weeks, but he ignored it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her—or him.

  She seemed to absorb what he’d said and turn it over in her mind. A little more fear came into her eyes. “How do you plan to do that?”

  It hit him then that, tough as she came off, she was probably more afraid of him than she’d ever been of anyone in her life. He eased his grip on her wrists and moved off her to let her sit up. He never let go of her hands, though, and he kept her feet in sight at all times. Her question was one he’d been trying to answer since he’d first seen her near the alley. No matter how he figured it, there was only one solution. He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”

  When he tugged on her, she resisted. Her bare feet braced in the wet grass, she refused to move a step. He turned to look at her. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “No.”

  His brows shot up as she surprised him yet again. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

  “Do what you have to, mister, but don’t ask me to make it any easier.”

  Nick shook his head, unable to understand her train of thought. He pulled the automatic from beneath his coat, intending to persuade her to be a little more cooperative. When he looked at her again he saw her swallow, stand straighter and close those huge dark eyes. Her lashes brushed her cheeks. She looked like a proud Gypsy princess about to be sacrificed for the good of her people or something. Her voice only shook a little. “Not in the face, okay?”