Reckless Angel Read online

  He was still sitting up, and his expression was peculiar: puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite fathom what she was doing. She hoped he hadn’t lost a lot more blood than she realized. She gently released the belt and watched the white gauze, waiting for—half expecting—a red stain to appear. It didn’t. She sighed hard and let her chin fall to her chest.

  “It will be okay. We’ll have Joey get some more bandages and some antibiotics if he can manage it. I don’t want to risk infect—”

  She stopped short when his hand shot out to encircle her wrist. He was staring intently, frowning, not angrily, when she looked up.

  “The door was wide open, Toni. Why didn’t you leave?”

  She shook her head. “That has to be the stupidest question I’ve heard in a year.”

  “Not from where I stand,” he went on. “I saw the hair spray, the little pack you had ready. You were planning to leave.”

  “That was before I knew you were hurt.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  She looked at him and frowned. “I couldn’t leave you like that. You needed me, for God’s sake. You think I could just turn my back and walk out and leave you bleeding all over the floor?”

  “Plenty of people have.” He let his head fall back to the pillows.

  Toni heard the double meaning behind the remark, and again she saw behind the facade of toughness to the real hurt inside him. “Not me, Nick,” she told him softly. “I don’t walk out on people—even when they deserve it.” She got up and carried the basin of rose-colored water into the bathroom to pour it down the sink and rinse it clean. She refilled it, grabbed a clean cloth and returned to the bed.

  “You mean what happened before I left?”

  She nodded, trying not to feel again the hurt his words had inflicted.

  Joey’s voice from the doorway reminded Toni of his presence. “Bloodstains are all taken care of.” His anxious eyes never left Nick’s face. “You gonna be okay, pal? I still think you should’ve gone to a hospital.”

  “I told you it was nothing.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m spending the night just to be sure.”

  “You can’t do that, Joey. We’re acquaintances, don’t forget. We start acting like bosom buddies and—”

  “But I thought you two had known each other for years?” Toni’s question brought a sudden wariness to both men’s eyes. Nick’s gaze held hers, tired but unwavering. Joey looked at her, then away, then back again.

  “Maybe—uh—Nick and I ought to discuss this in private, if you don’t mind, Miss—”

  “It’s Toni. I suppose you want me to believe you’re another one of Taranto’s hired killers? Shouldn’t you just grab me by the hair, shove me through the door, call me a few choice names and threaten to kill me if you catch me listening? You probably don’t realize it, but I’ve seen the way Taranto’s men conduct their business. I don’t believe the words ‘If you don’t mind, Miss’ exist in their limited vocabulary.”

  “Don’t ask her to leave, Joey. She’d just press her ear to the door.” She glanced at Nick again. He sounded drained.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m a little stressed out. Look, if you want to talk, fine. But he really ought to rest. He’s lost a lot of blood—”

  “Go home, Joey. I’ll be fine.”

  “If it starts bleeding again, what’re you gonna do? The door’s locked, you can’t leave the phone in here. How could she even get help for you?”

  Toni felt a shiver go through her. “He’s right, Nick,” she whispered.

  “He can’t stay.” Nick’s eyes looked puffy and leaden. He was obviously wrung out. It would do him no good to waste energy arguing. Still, Toni knew it would be stupid for her to stay alone with him, with no way to summon help in an emergency. Nick sighed loudly. “Joey, punch the combination into the door before you pull it closed. That way the lock won’t engage. If something happens, Toni can go downstairs and call an ambulance. Okay?”

  “And if Lou’s got the phone tapped?”

  “I’ll tell him it was just a hooker. He’ll buy it. I know him.”

  Joey glanced uneasily at Toni. “And if she decides to take a walk?”

  “I won’t.” She saw the doubt in Joey’s eyes. “For God’s sake, you guys are the ones claiming to be cold-blooded killers, not me. I said I’d stay and I will.”

  Joey glanced at Nick. Nick shrugged. “You heard the lady.”

  He sighed hard. “I’ll go. But I damn well don’t like it.”

  “Duly noted, Salducci. Now get the hell outta here.”

  She didn’t miss the affection in Nick’s eyes, and once again her certainty that he was no criminal outweighed the doubt. In fact, she didn’t believe either one of them was working for Taranto. She’d never come across a gentler man than Joey.

  He left, albeit reluctantly. Toni scrutinized Nick’s face from her perch on the edge of the bed. “He cares a lot for just an acquaintance.”

  “Don’t miss a trick, do you?”

  She sighed at the tautness in his voice. “It’s odd, but I’m not entirely comfortable with the door unlocked. I can’t tell the good guys from the bad guys.”

  “You don’t want to tell,” he replied.

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  He dropped his gaze. “If you hear anyone coming, pull the door open and close it again. The lock will take automatically.” He closed his eyes, then forced them open. “If you leave tonight, Toni, take my gun with you. Get on the first flight out of the country and—”

  “I am not going anywhere! What is it with you? Don’t you trust anyone?” His lips tightened into a thin line. “You don’t, do you?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  She looked at the floor, then at his face again. “Is that why you won’t tell me the truth?”

  “Are you still fantasizing, Toni? Look, I need to get some sleep. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  It was frustrating the way he kept her guessing. Still, he had admitted to a weakness rather than discuss whether he was or was not being honest with her. Maybe that should tell her something. “Okay, so sleep.”

  She leaned closer to him and unbuckled the strap that held the shoulder holster around his body. He stiffened, and his eyes flew open again. “Easy, big guy. I’m only trying to make you comfortable. You can’t go to sleep as you are.”

  He relaxed and let her take the holster from him, gun and all. She put it aside, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “Just how ‘comfortable’ are you planning on making me?”

  “Still have a sense of humor, I see.” She helped him sit up a little and tried to ignore the feel of his firm biceps as she pushed the material down them and eased his arms from the sleeves. She refused to look at the crisp black hair that swirled over his chest. She wasn’t lying to herself anymore. There was a strong physical attraction here. But just because she admitted it to herself didn’t mean she had to give in to it.

  She eased him back to the pillows, located her discarded scissors and attacked the outside seams of his trousers. They were ruined anyway. He watched her without comment. “Brace with your good leg,” she told him. “Lift your hips just a little.” When he complied, she slid the pants from beneath him. He wore white boxers underneath. She kept her eyes averted and grabbed up the clean cloth from the basin of soapy water. Deftly she washed the blood from the length of his leg and patted it dry with a towel. She took the whiskey-dampened towel from beneath his leg and swiped the wet cloth over the back of his thigh. “Almost done,” she told him, taking the basin to dump it again. “Then I’ll let you sleep.”

  When she returned, it was with another clean cloth. This time she wiped a streak of blood from his face. She put the cloth in his hand. “Here. You can do your own hands.” He did. Toni gave one last, worried glance at the patch of white on his thigh and pulled the covers over him.

  “You going to read me a bedtime story, too?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm but heavier with ex
haustion.

  “I’m not going to fight with you tonight, so you can quit trying to bait me.” She tucked the blankets firmly around him. “Now, is there anything else you need before you go to sleep? Another shot of whiskey? Some aspirin?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Okay, then.” She gathered up the bandages, the discarded wrappers, the soiled clothes and towels. She dropped his ruined clothing into a plastic bag. She looked down at her sweats and saw they were smeared with his blood. Her hands were, as well. A shower was definitely in order. “I just need to clean up, but I’ll turn the light off so you can rest.” She snatched an oversize shirt from the back of a chair. “I don’t want you to move, Nick.” She chewed her lip, hating to leave him alone in case the bleeding should start up again. “I’ll leave the door open. Yell if—”

  “It’s my thigh, not a damn kidney or a lung. I’ve hurt myself worse than this playing basketball.”

  She ignored him and rushed into the bathroom for a record-fast shower. She put the baggy shirt on after drying off and tiptoed back into the bedroom. She hoped he was asleep. She pulled a chair nearer the bed as quietly as she could and sat down in it.

  “What are you doing?”

  She saw his head turn in her direction as he spoke. “I’m sitting. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “You don’t have to sit there all night. I’m okay. Go sack out on the couch.”

  “No thanks. I wouldn’t sleep a wink out there, anyway.”

  “Why, for crying out loud?”

  She shook her head. “Because you might need me. Whether you’ll admit it or not, Nick, that is more than a scratch. You lost a lot of blood and you are not out of the woods yet. If you need me, I want to be close by.”

  He blew a short sigh. “I won’t. I don’t need anyone. I never freaking have.”

  “Well, I’ll be here, just the same, in case you ever freaking do!”

  Chapter 7

  Nick lay awake for a long time, despite his feeling of having been wrung like a wet rag. He watched her, certain she’d get up and walk out before long. The door was wide open now. If he’d thought she could’ve made it off the grounds without his knowledge, he wouldn’t have had Joey leave the door unlocked. If she got away, she’d end up dead. He wasn’t sure why he’d blurted the warning he had, about taking his gun and leaving the country. He supposed it was because he’d lost so much blood and wasn’t thinking too clearly. Or maybe because he had to admit there was a slim chance she could escape. She was resourceful. And gutsy.

  He never for a minute thought he’d take a turn for the worse and need help. Leaving the door unlocked was completely unnecessary the way he saw it. He’d done it only to see her leave. He wasn’t even sure why, but he needed to see her do it. He needed to be reminded, in no uncertain terms, that people couldn’t be trusted. They left you the minute your defenses were down.

  She didn’t leave, though. He watched her tiny form silhouetted in the half light for as long as he could stay awake, and she never left. After a while her head fell to one side. Her breathing grew deeper and took on the rhythm of sleep. He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t have if the proof hadn’t been right there in front of him. When he fell asleep, it was in a state of confusion. She hadn’t left. But she still might. Maybe she hadn’t got from him all that she wanted just yet. Maybe she’d wait until morning.

  For a time his mind relaxed in blissful darkness, but then something changed. The lights came up slowly, and the stage was set. Danny lay on the rotted wood floor, pale and blue lipped. Nick shook him, but he barely had strength enough to do so. He felt incredibly weak and clumsy and colder than he could remember being in his life. Still, he recited the lines he knew by heart. “Don’t die on me. Hold on, Danny, hold on. Don’t die…don’t leave me, damn you!”

  The young Nick in the dream thought he must have caught his leg on a nail on the way into this dump. His thigh was screaming. It felt hot and it throbbed like a toothache. He didn’t care—he didn’t care if the damn thing fell off, not when Danny’s life hung in the balance. “You’re all I got, man. Don’t do this—Danny? Danny!”

  The scene faded, but he knew it was there, just out of sight. Something cold and wet lay across his forehead. Another cold thing pressed to that spot on his thigh. God, it felt good. His head was pulled upward, small things between his lips…pills, then the lip of a glass and icy cold water.

  “Drink, Nick. Swallow the aspirin, you have a fever.”

  He followed the instructions of that musical voice. The glass moved away, and he muttered something. He wasn’t sure what. But it came back. He drank and drank. He couldn’t remember being this thirsty. When the water was gone, his body moved until his head was cradled in a pillow of warm flesh, familiar scent. He knew that scent. “Toni,” he muttered.

  “I’m right here.” Cool hands stroked his cheeks and his hair in soothing, slow movements. The cloth left his forehead, and he heard water trickling. It came back colder.

  “You…didn’t leave?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t.”

  He hovered between the reality of the woman who held him and the memory of the dream. “Danny—”

  “I know.” The hands stilled on his face. “It was a long time ago, Nick. Danny is gone. I’m here with you now, though, and I won’t leave.”

  “You will.” Nick let his mind drift back into the comforting blackness. The pain from his thigh had lessened. It no longer burned. “They all do.”

  Nick woke with his head in Toni’s lap. Her palm rested motionless on his cheek, and he realized with a start that she’d been in that same position for several hours, stroking his head and his face as he drifted in and out of sleep. A glance at the clock’s luminous dial told him there was still over an hour before dawn.

  She sat with her back against the headboard, her legs curled beneath her. Nick’s head lay on her uppermost thigh. Her chin touched her chest, and a frown had etched itself between her brows, even in sleep. Without moving, Nick shifted his gaze. On the nightstand a basin of water sat beside an opened aspirin bottle, an empty glass and two soaking-wet cloths. He tried to remember what had happened during the night to get Toni from her chair beside the bed to where she now slept. Only fragments came to him. He remembered pain and pills being pushed between his lips and the welcome coldness of the water. He remembered her voice—her touch…

  My God, she’s still here.

  He studied her face as she slept and realized fully what she’d done. She’d held him all night and she’d done her damnedest to keep the pain at bay. She’d spoken softly to him, words of comfort. His own mother had never treated him with the tenderness she had. And she’d promised not to leave.

  He was still regarding her face when the heavy lashes lifted, revealing to him yet again the glistening, fathomless jet eyes. He saw them narrow at once, felt the hand on his face tense and move to his forehead as it had done many times during the night. Finding no more than a normal amount of heat emanating from his skin, she smiled.

  “How do you feel now?”

  He shrugged. “All right, I guess.” The silken warmth of her bare thigh under his cheek was distracting. He lifted his head so she could slip out from under him. She moved slightly to the side, stretched her legs out fully beside him. She hooked one hand at the back of her neck and rubbed. “What happened last night?” he asked.

  “Your temperature spiked. I’m afraid that leg has a nasty infection trying to set in.” She met his gaze. “You don’t remember?”

  “Bits and pieces.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m not surprised. You were quite…disoriented.” She swung her feet to the floor. “I ought to change that bandage, see how bad it is.”

  “Not yet.” Nick sat up, and she turned to face him. “What do you mean by ‘disoriented’?” He hadn’t liked the emphasis she put on the word.

  She tilted her head to one side. “You did a lot of talking. Do you want some of that whiskey
before I unwrap—”

  “What did I say?”

  She looked away from his eyes. “You told me everything. I know you’re a cop. Don’t worry, your secret is safe. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me in the first place. This whole ordeal would’ve been so much easier if you’d just…”

  Nick felt the blood drain from his face as she rambled on. He couldn’t believe he’d been that feverish…that he’d blurt something like that and not even remember. He caught himself then and watched her as she spoke. She was talking too fast and she never met his gaze.

  “What kind of cop?” She broke off at his interruption.

  She looked at him slowly, her face blank. “Well—I—um—I guess you didn’t say.”

  He smiled and shook his head in silent admiration of her brass. “Nice try, Toni. I didn’t say anything like that. I know because it’s bull. A figment of your creative imagination.”

  To his surprise she smiled, too, like the cat leaving the pet store with feathers in its whiskers. “I don’t think so. You believed me for just a second. You wouldn’t have if there wasn’t some slight chance you might’ve said what I just told you you did.” The smile died slowly. She held his gaze, her own eyes going softer. “It was a mean trick to play on a guy as sick as you were last night. I’m sorry. It was either that or go on questioning my sanity—not a healthy alternative.”

  “Your sanity isn’t an issue here. It left the day you started with this imaginary secret identity of mine.”

  She shrugged, stood up and carefully peeled away the tape that held the bandages. “You are one stubborn SOB, Nick Manelli.”

  He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t just then. The concern that clouded her face as she unwound the bandage and gently peeled away the gauze pads was too convincing. Maybe even real. She cleaned the wound once more, applied an abundance of smelly ointment and rewrapped it, taking great care not to hurt him. “Tell you what,” she said as she worked. “Since you are in a weakened state, I will drop this subject—for now—if you’ll do something for me.”