Christmas Angel (3 page)

“Come on. You can see much better if you stand. Cool outfit by the way. You get it over at Madonna’s Vintage?”

Angel glanced down at her flimsy cotton dress. She wore the same floral one she’d had on when she went for her piano lesson with Burt. She assessed her clothing with curious wonder. Even her boots were still dusty with desert clay. She placed her hand to her forehead, feeling woozy. Maybe she’d taken ill and her fever was causing this strange hallucination.

“Where am I?” She tapped the woman on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re pretty gutsy. How’d you get past security? Must have been some pretty heavy shit you were on.” The young woman smiled. “You’re at one of the best concerts ever. Don’t you remember? Listen! It’s solid Billy Joel—every one of his hits made into a musical!”

Billy Joel
? Reality flooded her brain. How was this happening? Where was

Burt? The music drew her back in, and she recognized the tune from the pieces Miss Lillian had played. A tentative smile lifted her lips, the tightness in her chest eased, and she found herself humming the familiar tune. Her new found friend, much less inhibited, belted out the words at the top of her lungs, oblivious to being off key.

Angel took in the mass of people, most on their feet, clapping and singing together in a rousing chorus. What a peculiar dream. Surely, she would wake at any moment and find herself back in Deadwater. She studied her surroundings, careful to soak in every detail so she could delight Josie with her sleep-induced tale. The last note permeated the air, sizzling with the magical energy coursing through her blood. The audience chanted wildly, “Billy! Billy!” Both frightened and curious, she lifted her hands and joined in the thunderous applause.

“Come on! Follow me.” The young girl tossed her a smile and grabbed her hand. “If we hurry, we might be able to see him.”

Him? Billy?
A myriad of odd sights and smells blurred past her as she fought to keep up with the girl pushing through the human sea. “Where are we going? Where am I?” Her words were lost, however, in the din of enthusiastic voices around her.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once. She strained against the girl’s hand and searched for Burt. This dream was becoming far too real.

The strange girl looked over her shoulder and pointed to letters spelling “Exit,” which glowed fiery red like a western sun setting in the sky.

The crowd swelled, and pressed by a wall of humanity, Angel’s connection to the woman was severed. Swept through the throng, she kept her eye on the letters and when she was close, lunged for what appeared to be the door handle and shoved with all her might. It wouldn’t budge.

“Hey,” a voice sounded from behind her, “that goes to the alley.”

She turned to a man with a thick beard. His face wrinkled in a questioning expression. “It’s okay. I’m meeting…um, Billy.”

His eyebrows shot into his disheveled bangs. He shrugged and lifted his arm over her shoulder, pressing on the horizontal bar. The door magically opened.

“Thanks.” She glanced back, but he was gone.

Angel shoved at the door, stumbling into a dark passage. She ran headlong into a railing. The cold bar kept her from plummeting over the edge of a balcony or ledge made of an odd stone. A foul stench assaulted her nose, and she grimaced, searching the high walls around her. They looked nothing like the canyons back home. She gripped the rail and searched blindly through the darkness. A sudden bright light appeared in twin beams at one end of the passageway and drew close. A rush of cold air swirled around her bare legs, and she straightened, stepping back toward the door, rubbing her arms. What could she do? She wasn’t dressed properly for such weather, and how was she to get back to the Magnolia?

“Are you okay, miss?” A tall man with skin the color of coal stepped from a strange, shiny carriage. The contraption trailed a plume of smoke from its behind and had no horses to pull it along. Angel’s heart thumped erratically as the man, dressed entirely in black with dark goggles covering his eyes, walked over and stood at the base of the hard stone steps. He stopped and looked at her, awaiting her response. Men of color were not a common sight in Deadwater. Most worked in the mines and would never speak to an unaccompanied woman. This one was different. It was obvious by his clothing and demeanor. Glittering gems shone on each earlobe. He removed his goggles and eyed her with concern. “Girl, what are you doing out here on a night like this without a coat?” He shook his head. “Come on down here. The woman I work for isn’t going to miss one. She has more than she needs, anyway.”

Angel moved cautiously down the steps, her fists clenched at her sides. She kept her distance, uncertain in more ways than one of what might happen next.

He opened the back of the carriage and pulled out a bundle of white fur. “Go on, take it. You sure as hell look like you need it worse than she does.” He held it out to her. His brow rose when she didn’t reach for it right away.

“I can’t. I don’t have any money.” Angel fought the sudden chatter of her teeth from fear and cold. She stiffened as he stepped forward and gently placed the short jacket around her shoulders. Grateful for his kindness, she swallowed her pride and slipped her arms inside, welcoming the gift “I’ll just wear it for a minute, thank you.” She huddled in the warmth, trying to piece together the puzzle of where she was and what was going on.

“Hey, no problem. What is this world coming to if a brother can’t help out, ya know?” He studied her. “You look a bit lost. Are you okay? Are you maybe on some kind of medication or something?”

He had a kind face and by his speech, it was clear he was well educated. Maybe he knew how to get back to the Magnolia.

“I’m new in town,” she started carefully. “I’m looking to find my way back to the Sweet Magnolia. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

His brows pressed together. “Wait a minute, the Magnolia? Are you talking about the Imperial? I remember reading an article about when they rebuilt the Imperial with materials moved up from an old ghost town near Virginia City. But even that was a long time ago. It’s one of the oldest hotels in the city. The granddaughter of some hotel tycoon owns it now. Not sure it was ever called the Sweet Magnolia, though. Are you sure that’s where you need to go? It’s not in the best part of town. Maybe I should drive you.”

Angel chewed her lip, bracing to find out how long—a
long time ago
was. What choice did she have? “How long has it been the Imperial?” she asked.

He blew out a breath and scratched his head. “Damn, we read about it in high school. I guess at least one hundred years. I know it’s on the registry of historical places.”

A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she reached out to keep her knees from buckling. The man stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “Hey, you okay?

When was the last time you had something to eat?”

“Hey, Clive, you ready down there?” Another man appeared at the top of the short flight of steps. “You know Desiree don’t like a car with cold leather seats.” Her bulk of a savior shot a tolerant glance to the man leaning over the rail. “Yeah, I’ve got the car warmed up the way she likes it.” He turned his attention back to Angel, dug in his pocket, and pulled out a wad of paper, stuffing it in her palm. “Take this and get yourself something to eat. It’ll help, I promise.”

“You’re very kind, sir.” She tried to stand on her own. Nausea roiled in her stomach.
What happened to Josie and the girls at the Magnolia? Where is Nate?

And what in tarnation is a ghost town?

“This is not the time to socialize, brother. You’re on the clock.”

Puzzled by the reference, Angel looked up at the red-haired gentleman with pale skin staring down at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Her new friend leaned down, his dark brown eyes filled with compassion.

“Ignore him. He worries too much.”

Angel nodded. She had no other choice but to start with this place he called the Imperial. Perhaps from there she would be able to find her way back home. “Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the… Imperial?” She saw his hesitancy, but he finally nodded.

“Take the alley, turn right, and go to the traffic light, take another right, and it’s about two blocks. Last I knew there was a Christmas tree lot right across the street in a rundown gas station.”

Alley? Traffic light? Gas station? Words she’d never heard before. Right and left was what she’d have to rely on to get her there. She began to remove the coat.

“Keep it. Really, she’ll never miss it.” He smiled warmly.

“Thank you, very much,” Angel replied as she backed out of the dark passage.

“Good luck and um… be careful out there. Don’t cross on any red lights. They’ll get you for jaywalking around here.” He tossed her a wave and a smile as he returned to the strange carriage.

Angel’s boots scuffed along the strange, hard ground more solid than the hardened prairie. She followed his directions and wound up on a long, straight stretch of desolate road. Searching among the red-stone structures rising into the night sky, she came to a set of poles with blinking red, yellow, and green lights, and for a moment, stood mesmerized at how they seemed to change color for no reason. The small image of a person in the box attached to the pole appeared to be walking, and so stuffing her hands in the pockets of the coat, she pressed on with the directions given to her by Clive. She could not let fear stop her. After all, she’d once faced a gunslinger and ridden a horse to town to alert Sheriff Jake. Though he’d been injured in the scuffle, the gunman was able to get away on Sheriff Jake’s horse. At least no lives had been lost. The lessons learned, however, proved she had grit, and she would approach her current situation with the same tenacity.

There had to be a logical explanation for what had happened to her. Perhaps she’d simply fallen and this was a grand dream she’d soon awaken from. The crisp, cold night air whipped her hair. As she scanned the streets, nothing at all looked familiar. The hard, black road wound between tall buildings for miles it seemed in either direction. She was keenly aware of how alone she was on the street when she came upon another oddly-shaped carriage pulled to a halt at the side of the road. Curious, she paused to study it, taking note of the strange wheels, so unlike the wooden variety of the wagons in Deadwater.

“May I help you?”

A brusque voice startled her, and she stepped back, distancing herself from the stranger. He wore a close-fitting cap pulled down over his ears, making it impossible to know the length of his hair. His clothes resembled a farmer’s overalls, only heavier and bulkier than the cloth she’d seen. And his boots were not the square-toed boots of a cowboy, but rounded, with thick soles. His attire, though odd, did not unnerve her as much as the color of his piercing blue eyes. Her heart faltered as she struggled to hold his steady gaze. His eyes appeared to stare into her soul. She straightened her shoulders in an attempt to look more confident than she felt. “I’m looking for the Magnolia.”

“The Mag—” He hesitated. “Wait, you don’t mean the Sweet Magnolia?” He studied her intently. “You must be new in town, then?” He rubbed his gloves together, and she tried not to show her knees were shaking.

Shado kept his eyes on her face, valiantly trying to avert his attention from how her flimsy dress swirled around her shapely legs. To the untrained observer, her fresh-scrubbed face and shoulder-length blonde hair might be the epitome of innocence, but he saw what the average citizen didn’t. He assessed the expensive rabbit fur jacket she wore over her vintage Western wear dress and those boots— they were the real deal. She smelled expensive, like a kept woman. Her down-home country garb didn’t fool him for a minute. That rat Espinoza would do whatever he had to in order to stay under the radar. He held her gaze and circled around her, causing her to turn toward the surveillance camera in the van. “You’re kinda pretty.” He tossed the remark, adding a wicked grin for good measure. Acting was not his forte, but with any luck, he might distract her a bit.

Maybe get her to talk. “Where’d you say you were from?”

She looked at him with a cool expression, indicating she was onto his game and not in the mood to play along. With the response of a woman confident around strange men, she pinned him with a no-nonsense look. “Listen, mister, whatever you’re trying to sell tonight, I’m not interested in. I’m interested only in finding the Magnolia… except now it’s called the Imp….” She snapped her fingers as though trying to summon the name from thin air.

“The Imperial?” he answered and glanced toward the van.

She pointed her finger at him. “Yes, that’s the name.” Can you please tell me where it’s located? A very nice man told me it was across from a Christmas tree lot… whatever that is.” A friendly smile lit up her face, and Shado had to stumble through his thoughts to come up with a response.

“You know, I suppose to some people, it’s considered a house of ill-repute,” she leaned toward him and whispered. “I would have expected it to be located farther from town.”

Shado regarded her with mute surprise. She was, if nothing else, straightforward. He could play along and see how far this would go. He pointed to the building behind her, rising high in the star-laden Reno sky. “You’re a short walk from it, actually. Just across the street, right in the middle of town, where it’s always been.”

She followed his gaze and longing came over her face, not unlike when seeing an old friend. But in the next instant, her expression fell. She swallowed, her gaze fixed on the building, and then she brushed her cheek. Was she crying?

Shado tapped his earring and raised his voice. “There’s the Imperial. She’s a grand old dame. I hear Madam has only the finest women for her call girl service.”

She turned to study him with a curious expression. “There’s no need to yell.

My hearing is quite good. And pray tell, what is a call girl service?”

He chuckled. The little pigeon was a hoot. She had this county-bumpkin thing down to a finely tuned fiddle.

“Don’t piss off the dove,” a voice issued in his earpiece.

Shado regarded her with interest, searching for any sign she was a plant sent by Espinoza. “Madam Lee employs discreet women to entertain her clientele.”

She searched his face. “Not everything has changed, it appears,” she muttered softly as she glanced back at the Imperial. Her mood shifted with a friendly smile, but he detected a hint of sadness. “I must be going. Thank you, sir, for your kindness.”

“Tail her,” his earpiece urged.

Shado nodded, and as she walked away, took a moment to appreciate the gentle sway of her hips and the sassy way her dress flounced with every step. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s gait had enticed him. He mentally slapped himself from his musing. “Uh, Merry Christmas. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He sauntered behind, following her the few steps to the tree lot, and paused to watch her cross in the middle of the block without so much as a glance. Whatever her purpose, it was clear she was focused on getting to the Imperial.

The low rumbling roar of an engine caught his attention, and he looked up in time to see a sleek, dark-colored vehicle emerging from the wintery mist like a demon from Hell. The driver couldn’t have stopped if his life depended on it.

Where the hell was a traffic cop when you needed one? His gaze shot to the woman blithely unaware she was about to become road kill.

Shado took off, head down in a race to see who would reach her first. He lunged, grabbing her around the waist, and yanked her body around. Holding her tight, he tried to protect her head as they both hit and rolled across the frigid asphalt. His head slammed against the curb, and he squeezed her close as the car whizzed past. The heat from its tires blew like a dragon’s breath against the side of his face.

“Jackson!” His boss’s voice screamed in Shado’s ear.

“I’m good,” he bellowed in response without thinking. He tried to hang onto the squirming woman trying to free herself. His cheek was on fire from sliding across the pavement.

“And what about my dress? It’s not like I have a trunk full of these.” The disgruntled woman pushed away from him and plopped down on the curb. She sighed as she held up the hem.

“But
you’re
not hurt.” Shado pulled himself literally out of the gutter. He was going to be sore for a week from this stunt. Hell, he’d saved her life, thank you very much. He sat down beside her and brushed off his coveralls, grateful for the heavyweight fabric, little good it did his cheek. He touched it gingerly and winced.

“I’m fine.” She tossed him a disgruntled look and wiped the dirt from her hands.

He dropped his arms over his knees. “Maybe I should go in with you to make sure you’re all right.”

Her head came up, and she struggled to stand, pushing on his shoulder—the sore one—in the process. Shado clenched his teeth from the pain.

“I have no need for an escort, thank you.” She looked down the road where the car had sped clean out of sight. “What was that?” She dusted off her white rabbit jacket.

With any luck the camera in the van caught the license plate on the idiot driver’s car and Gleason had someone looking for the bastard. Shado ambled to his feet. He didn’t fault her for not knowing about cars, a lot of women didn’t recognize vehicle makes or models. “Mustang—’68 vintage,” he replied, rolling his shoulder to ease the ache. Nothing a good hot soak in the tub wouldn’t resolve.

“Strange contraption,” she muttered softly and turned then to look up at the Imperial. He actually didn’t mind standing there while she stared in wide-eyed wonder at the historical relic. The view of her upturned chin reminded him of the soft warmth of a woman’s neck—one of his favorite places to linger.

“Are you going to let me by?”

“Oh.” A weird sensation tugged at Shado’s gut. That should have been warning enough. He stepped aside and purposely looked down at his feet, knowing he’d stare like a buffoon if he watched her walk up those steps.

“Thank you,” she called when she reached the top.

Only then did he dare to look, swallowing hard at the sight of her silhouette with the light shining through the thin material. Maybe it was those odd-looking Victorian boots. Maybe it was her innocent blue eyes. Whatever it was felt like a vice grip on his nuts. He watched as the attendant held the door open for her and she disappeared inside.
Shit.
He looked around, his mind racing to come up with a plan. She
had
to be the target Espinoza was using—from out of town, fearless, gorgeous right down to those sexy boots. The sad truth was she probably had no idea what she was doing. He quickly admonished himself for allowing his instant physical attraction to her to interfere with his judgment. Still, his gut told him he needed to get inside.

He followed the sidewalk past the circle drive entrance until he was sure he’d cleared the view of the security camera out front. A service entrance had been cordoned off from the alley by a hedge. He crouched low and slipped through the bushes and into the darkness of the hotel’s side yard.

“Watch my back. I’m going in.” He crept along the shadows, keeping close the building, circling around to the back side where he found an old cellar entrance. Glad for Madam’s negligence in not padlocking it, he held his breath and tugged at the stubborn latch, stuck from little use, until it finally gave way. He drew his gun, flipped the safety off, and proceeded to pull up the ancient door, cringing when its rusty hinges gave a squawk.

One creaking wood step at a time, he descended into the black stairwell and at the bottom paused to snap on his penlight. With its potent beam showing the way, he moved through the maze of boxes and old furniture, ducking the spider webs and the mice scurrying along the floor joists above him. The sound of two men in an intense argument stopped him in his tracks. He skirted a stack of discarded wooden crates and discovered another set of steps leading to the floor above.

The exchange upstairs had stopped. There was a deadly silence, like the calm before a storm. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened. He moved quickly and quietly to the entry at the top of the steps. Just as he placed his hand on the handle, two shots rang out in rapid succession. A woman’s scream followed. Shado shoved the door open with his shoulder and sent it banging against the wall as he tucked and rolled to his stomach and aimed at the scene in front of him. There was his blue-eyed cowgirl, her head held in a vise by a beefy-looking lug. Her face was partially covered by the assailant’s thick arm, and the man’s dark eyes and weapon were both focused squarely on Shado.

“Drop your weapon,” he snarled in warning. “No one has to get hurt.” He rose carefully to one knee, keeping his aim steady.

The gunman’s eyes darted toward the connecting hallway, then quickly to his hostage. He raised his weapon a little higher, keeping it pointed at Shado’s head.

“Back off, or the girl is dead.” He waved the pistol at her temple. Her blue eyes peeped over her attacker’s hairy arm a second before she opened her mouth and sank her teeth into him.

“Bitch,” the hulk screamed and brought the gun down hard, clipping her across the temple.

“Drop her! Come on, let’s get out of here,” someone yelled from the adjacent hallway.

“Police! Freeze!” Shado rose to his haunches, keeping the barrel of his weapon fixed on the big guy’s forehead. The woman was out cold, limp across his massive arm. There was too great a chance of hitting her if he fired. The hulk of a man swerved, aimed at Shado, and squeezed off a shot. With no choice, he rolled away, dodging the bullet, and scrambled quickly to his feet, his finger crooked on the trigger. The now desperate attacker held the poor woman like a rag doll against him. Deep red blood oozed from a gash on her temple, matting her blonde hair.

For a moment, they eyed one another, then Shado spoke quietly. “Let go of her.”

With a sneer, the assailant loosened his grip, and she crumpled to the floor with an ugly thud. He took off down the corridor. Shado surged forward, glancing quickly at the suspect exiting the door at the end of the hall.

He took a quick look inside the hotel room, and seeing the bloodstained carpet, spoke into his microphone. “Two civilians down. Suspects headed out north side of building.” He barely got the words out when the front door burst open.

Gleason and two of the cops on the surveillance team entered, weapons drawn.

“They went out the side door. I think there were at least two.” “Go!” Gleason waved to his team and they took off down the hall.

Shado holstered his pistol and knelt to check the woman’s pulse. Blood oozed from her injury, and a red line marred her otherwise serene face.

“We need an ambulance,” he said. Her pulse was strong. She was a fighter, at least he hoped she was. “The other one is in there.” He shook his head. “Going to need a coroner.”

“Got it,” his superior stated and turned to speak into his phone.

Shado stood and, careful not to jar anything, took a quick sweep of where the victim of a gunshot wound to the head lay in a pool of blood in the middle of the posh suite.

“What is going on here?” A high-pitched voice demanded.

Madam Lee stood in the corridor. Her gaze swiveled between the woman lying in the hall and the scene in the hotel room.

Shado pulled his badge and flashed it as he blocked her view of the dead man.

“What is going on? I want no trouble.”

He knelt down beside the unconscious woman, brushing the hair from her face. He did a quick check again of her pulse, finding it moderately strong. “It would seem someone had a disagreement with one of your clients. I’m afraid you’re going to have to answer a few questions.”

Madam Lee craned her neck, trying to see past him. “We’ll have to ask you to stay out of the room, Ms. Lee, until we can complete our investigation,” Gleason instructed the woman.

“What do I tell my other customers?” she questioned, pointing at him. “I lose clients. No clients, no money.”

Adjusting his Stetson, his superior glanced toward the open door. “You tell them this room is unavailable until further notice, or we’ll find a reason to shut you down completely. Do we understand one another?”

Madam Lee was not happy about the response, but she nodded. “Is he dead?” She tipped her head, black eyes glittering in her wrinkled face.

Shado nodded. “I hope he paid in cash.”
Where’s that damn ambulance?