ANGEL MEETS THE BADMAN Read online

  "Well," Jake said, hunkering down beside her, "we've solved one problem, at least."

  "What problem could this possibly solve?" Sara squeaked.

  Jake had his fingers pressed now to Jessi Brand's throat, reassured by the strong, steady pulse beating there. "The problem of how to deliver your note," he said.

  "You're sure she's all right?" Sara asked him for the fourth time. She sat in the small boat, looking back, though it was still too dark to see anything.

  "We put her inside the house, Sara, and closed the door so no gators or wild boars will happen upon her. She was already starting to moan a bit when we left her. She'll be fully conscious in a matter of minutes. You didn't hit her all that hard."

  Sara bit her lower lip, and it made him want to kiss it. "I just hope she's all right."

  "If you'd taken any longer writing that note, she'd have been up and around to prove it to you," he reminded her.

  "And I still didn't tell them half what I wanted to," Sara countered, finally facing him again. "Do you think she'll find her way back all right?"

  "She found her way out here."

  "Yes, but she probably followed us then."

  "You told me yourself she was the best tracker in Texas, Sara. Don't you think she can figure out how to go back the way she came?" He watched her face, knew his words were not reassuring her in the least, knew exactly what she was going to suggest before she ever parted her lips.

  "Sara, we have to get out of here."

  "She wouldn't know what to do with a gator … or one of those ugly hogs."

  "She came out to us by boat. She'll go back by boat. So long as she's in the boat, she's safe. She's perfectly safe, Sara."

  "Well … what if it tips over? Or sinks or—"

  "No, Sara. Just … no."

  Sara tilted her head, and her big eyes were moist. And he thought for just a minute that this was insane, what he was about to do. He even spent a few useless seconds trying to figure out why he would even consider it … before he turned the little boat around, pushed off one side with the long pole and set them heading back the way they'd come.

  Sara smiled softly. "We'll stay a safe distance behind her," she promised. "She'll never know we're anywhere near here, and we'll stop following just the second we know she's safe."

  "Right."

  She moved back to sit beside him and slid her arms around his waist, squeezing him gently. "Thank you, Jake."

  His throat seemed to swell a bit when he tried to swallow and found he couldn't.

  A couple of hours later, even as the morning sun broke over the bayou, spilling greenish-gold light over everything, he and Sara watched Jessi Brand beach her borrowed canoe near the plantation and climb out. As she walked, she kept her head bent, still rereading the note Sara had left pinned to her blouse.

  Jake had read it, too. Sara hadn't noticed it, but he'd been determined to read what she'd written. And it had shaken him right to the roots of his hair and carved itself a place in his memory, where he knew it would always stay.

  Jessi,

  Take this note back to the family, but don't show it to anyone else. I need your help. Jake Nash did not kill his cousin Vivienne. Someone else did—someone who thinks I can identify him. I can't, but that's beside the point. The killer was coming after me next, and that's why Jake took me with him when he left. To protect me. He's a good man, Jessi. Damn good. And you know I can tell a good man from a bad one, don't you? I've certainly been around enough of both kinds to know the difference. You look into his prior conviction—the details of what really happened—and you'll see it, too. But I don't have time to go into that right now. Just know that I'm okay, and I'm with Jake because I want to be. I won't come back until he can come back with me—with his name cleared and the real killer behind bars. You can help me with that if you want to, but if you don't, then just go on home. Stop looking for me. I believe in Jake. With any luck, maybe when this is all over, he'll believe in himself. I hope so, because I love him, Jessi. I love him. Yours,

  Sara

  "We should go," Sara whispered, startling him.

  He looked at her, looked at those big eyes filled with impossible dreams staring into his. He had never had anything good. He had, on occasion, allowed himself to hope for good things—wish for and dream of wonderful things—only to have them snatched away, leaving him beaten and broken. Sara Brand … she was bigger and better than anything he'd ever dared dream of or wish for. She wasn't meant for the likes of him, and he damned well knew it. If he let himself think even for a second that this thing between them could be real, that they could have some chance for anything … anything good together…

  It would be the most crushing disappointment of his life. He didn't think he would be able to recover.

  He had to get away from her. Send her back to her clean, good little life, with her respectable family in her wholesome town. And then he could just crawl back into the slime where he belonged.

  He couldn't take her back into that slime with him. It was rubbing off on her, contaminating her, that swamp that had been his home. The dark cloud he'd been born under was starting to cast its shadow on her pristine life. And, damn, but he didn't want that for her.

  "We'll go on foot from here."

  "You think that's wise?"

  He nodded and poled the boat farther, until the plantation was out of sight. Then he banked it and helped her out. Just beyond the trees, the highway ran. Beyond that was the small Cajun settlement of Belle Ville. That was where he would leave Sara Brand. That was where he would slip away and get the hell out of here. Now that her family knew she was in danger, they would protect her. She would be safe. Jake wasn't going to let her out of his sight until he was 100 percent certain of that. But then … well, it was for the best.

  For both of them.

  They waited until traffic cleared, crossed the highway, then dashed through the field beyond it and through a copse of trees, into the town of Belle Ville.

  It was odd that she should know him so well, see so much of him in his eyes, after so short an acquaintance. But she did. She knew he was up to something from the moment they left the small box-nosed boat behind. She sensed it. There was some sort of shadow in his eyes—and they didn't meet hers head-on, but sideways and fleetingly.

  "What's wrong, Jake?"

  "Nothing. Come on, I know some people here."

  He took her by the arm and led her along a narrow, dusty path. As they moved closer to the cluster of dark wood buildings, she heard music. Then voices. Then the sounds grew louder, until she felt she was nearing some kind of carnival. Smells came to her, hot, spicy, fishy smells. Voices floated beneath the music. The sounds of footfalls on hardwood. It all seemed to be coming from one place—a large building at the end of the path that looked like a barn but appeared to be some kind of saloon instead. Light spilled yellow-gold from the windows, and when the door slid open on its casters, more noise and tantalizing smells spilled out at her, and Sara heard a distinctively Cajun "Aieee," coming from within and saw bodies swaying inside.

  A brief glimpse, then the door rolled shut and all the noise was muffled again.

  The dawning came hot-orange on the horizon, and the color glowed its reflection from the eyes of the woman who'd just exited the building. Chocolate skinned, she was as tall and slender as a reed, with a face that gave no clue to her age. A scarf patterned in vibrant reds and yellows covered her hair, and she held herself like a queen. She glanced at them only briefly as she strode past. But then she halted, turned and said, "Wait!"

  Sara almost jumped out of her skin at the urgency in the woman's tone. But she turned. "Who? Us?" she asked.

  Those dark eyes narrowed on Sara. "Come here," she said, and she crooked a slender finger tipped with a nail so long it curved at the end. "Let me look at you."

  "I … am kind of in a hurry."

  "Oh, go on," Jake said. He smiled and urged her forward. "This is Kyra. She's a Voodoo priestess. Maybe
she'll tell you your fortune."

  Kyra scowled at him, tossing her head in a way that made the layers of beads that dangled from her neck and her ears clatter together noisily. Her gaze narrowed on Jake, then widened again. "Jacob Nash, is it?"

  "It's me," he said, stepping closer.

  The woman nodded. "It has been a long time since you've come," she said. "I hear about your mamma. She was a good one. A good one." Then she tilted her head. "But you found yourself another good woman, di'n't you, boy?" As she spoke, her hand snapped out to clasp Sara's chin as fast as a snake biting. Almost as sharply, too, with those nails and her powerful grip. She stared into Sara's eyes … then her own widened, and she let go and backed away with a gasp. "Death is your shadow!" she cried.

  "Knock it off, Kyra," Jake said. He took Sara's arm, turning her away. "Ignore her."

  But Sara pulled away, turning back to the woman. "What do you mean?"

  "He stalks you. One misstep and you will be his." Then the woman jabbed a forefinger toward Jake. "Only you can save her, Jacob Nash. If you leave her, she will die. I warn you."

  "Leave me?" Sara echoed, turning to stare up at Jake. "That wouldn't be your plan for tonight, would it, Jake?"

  His eyes slid sideways, away from her probing gaze.

  "Not just tonight," the woman went on. "When the reaper comes for you, woman, this man will be your shield." She turned to Jake. "If you're not with her when he comes, then he'll take her with him to the underworld. Mark my words well, Jacob," Kyra went on, her voice lowering. "If you let her die, you will follow—but yours will be a living death, boy. For just as you are the only one who can save the girl's live … she is the only one who can save your soul." Then she turned her hand over and opened her palm. "That will be five dollars."

  "Oh, for crying—"

  "You prefer a curse?" she asked, cocking one narrow brow.

  "Pay the woman, Jake."

  He glared at Sara, but he fished a five-dollar bill from his pocket and smacked it into Kyra's hand. "She pulls the same scam every time I set foot in the vicinity," he complained.

  "Is she always this accurate?" Sara asked.

  He made a face and turned to send one last, parting shot at Kyra, but by then she'd vanished. "Another of her specialties," he muttered.

  "She was right, wasn't she, Jake?"

  He turned slowly to face Sara. "About what?"

  "You were planning to leave me tonight, to dump me off here like some unwanted stray. Don't bother denying it," she snapped, when he opened his mouth to do just that. "I could see it in your face the minute the words left her lips. You were going to leave me here."

  Blowing a sigh through clenched teeth, he nodded. "Yes. I was. You'll be perfectly safe now that your family knows you're a target. They'll take care of you, and I can get the hell out of here the way I should have done days ago."

  "And spend the rest of your life on the run?" she asked. "A wanted man? A fugitive? Why, Jake?"

  Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. "This is why."

  She stared down at it. Newspaper. A clipping. "What's this?" she asked, unfolding it as she did, skimming the story about Vivienne's murder and Jake's supposed motive. Her mouth went dry as she read the latest revelations released to the press. That Flossie and Bertram had recently redrawn their will, leaving their entire plantation to be divided equally between Vivienne and Jake.

  "I didn't know a thing about it. I swear to God, I didn't," Jake said softly.

  Sara lifted her head, stared straight into his eyes. "I know you didn't. And … Flossie and Bert, they know it, too."

  "The police think I knew about the will. They think I offed Viv so I could inherit the whole thing myself. The theory is that I was planning to murder Flossie and Bert next."

  Sara drew a breath and sighed. "How long have you had this clipping, Jake?"

  He shook his head. "Your cousin had it on her when you clobbered her. I found it in her pocket when I was searching her."

  "And why didn't you tell me sooner?"

  They stood outside the barn-like dance hall with the Cajun music pounding and the sky paling to dusky orange. "God, Jake, don't tell me you were afraid I'd believe it. Not after all this."

  "Why the hell wouldn't you believe it? Everyone else does."

  She blinked slowly, stepped closer. "Because … because I—"

  "No." He held up his hands. "Look, it's high time we parted ways, Sara. You hang around with me, I'm going to get you killed."

  "But Kyra said—"

  "To hell with what Kyra said. Dammit, Sara, go back to Texas. Go back to your safe little fantasy life, where everything works out the way it should and happy endings abound. I don't fit there. For me, there's no such thing."

  Sara's eyes widened. His looked tortured. "Is that what you think my life is? Just a series of happy endings? Hmm? You know better, Jake. I hid in a freaking cupboard and watched my mother get blown away. I spent the last twenty-one years of my life in constant fear, being hunted and living a lie. And I still haven't shaken off the repercussions of that. If I had, I'd have come to you the first time you offered, and I wouldn't be standing here now, scared half to death of what's going to happen to me if you leave me alone."

  He gave his head a desperate shake, bit his lip. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said—"

  "Go to hell, Jake."

  He blinked in shock and stood there, not touching her, not speaking. She sounded … mean.

  "I'm tired of fighting with you. You're a grownup. You know what you want, and it obviously isn't an ordinary life with a boring schoolteacher like me. So you just go. You just go live on the run, go have some great adventure south of the border, go hang out with a gang of thugs. And I'll go back to my boring little safe life with its built-in happy endings, and I'll try to pretend I never met you."

  She turned her back on him and walked away.

  "Sara."

  She didn't slow down, didn't look back. "Dammit, Sara, don't go." She stepped around the corner of the building and out of sight.

  Jake ran around the corner after her, but he didn't see her. She had vanished. A cold knot of panic formed in the pit of his belly as he turned, looked, searched for her and thought the worst. Kyra's prophetic words kept coming back to his mind, and he wanted to kick himself. The killer must have been watching them the whole time. Somehow that maniac had managed to get his filthy hands on Sara.

  And Jake had no one to blame but himself.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  He stood there, not knowing what to do, feeling like the biggest fool in the history of the world … when he heard a soft sound that slapped the panic out of him like a well-aimed hand.

  Sniffling. Gentle, barely audible … crying.

  Swallowing the lump that rose inexplicably into his throat, Jake followed that sound. Sara sat crouched in a small, shadowed area between the barn-like building and the one beside it. Knees drawn to her chest, face pillowed on her arms.

  For some reason Jake's eyes burned as he went to her. He didn't say anything. Instead he turned and sat down beside her, his back against the rough slab wood sides of the building, his side brushing hers. "I'm a real idiot sometimes," he said.

  She didn't say anything, so he continued. "I mean, I'd have to be, wouldn't I? To make the mess of my life that I've managed to make. Trying to rob that liquor store … then being stupid enough to stick around afterward trying to do CPR when I didn't even know how—"

  "That wasn't stupid, Jake. That was the only smart thing you did that day."

  "It got me caught. And it didn't do a thing for the old man."

  "It did something for you, though," she said, lifting her head, dabbing at her eyes. "You just haven't figured that out yet."

  He shook his head. "All it did was land me behind bars for seventeen years."

  She sighed, shook her head, looked exasperated with him, and he wished he knew w
hy. "Then I get out, have a public fight with my cousin and wind up on the wrong end of a murder warrant all over again. Another stupid mistake."

  "Running away was the stupid part," she said.

  He frowned at her. "Will you let me get to my point?"

  Lifting her brows, she said, "You have a point?"

  "Of course I have a point!" He lowered his voice, took a deep breath. "The point is … that of all the stupid things I've done in my life, I don't regret any of them more than I regret the stupid thing I did just now."

  She blinked slowly, tilted her head to one side. "And what stupid thing did you do just now?" she asked him.

  "I made you cry." He ran his forefinger over her cheek, wiping away the dampness that was there. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm sorry I was an insensitive jerk just now. I'm sorry I implied that your life had been some kind of fairy tale, when I know damn well it's been a trip through hell."

  She lifted her chin, nodded at him. "It has," she said softly. "But I came out on the other side. I found my brother, my family. I'm vanquishing my demons. My life is almost perfect now."

  He nodded. "I'm still working through my hell, Sara. My demons are still dogging me, and if you hang around me too long, I'll drag you right back down with me. I know I will."

  "No," she began.

  "You're a good woman. A decent woman," he said, interrupting her. "I'm a convicted criminal. Can't you see the difference there?"

  She lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. "A criminal would have run away and left that liquor store owner to die alone. You stayed. You gave up your freedom to try to help him. Just the way you risked it again to try to help me, when you realized I could be the killer's next target. Don't you see the difference, Jake? Those aren't the acts of a criminal. They're the acts of … of a hero."

  He rolled his eyes and blew air through his teeth. "Right. Some hero I am."

  "Someday you'll see it, Jake," she whispered. "Someday, I'll make you see it."

  He drew a deep breath to keep from snapping at her for her childish fantasies, then let it out slowly. "Can we please just drop this entire subject for now?"