Faithless Angel (22 page)

But half of the circle was buried now, and Jane was dead. Faith hadn’t been able to save her. Hope and optimism and dogged determination had meant nothing in the face of tragedy.

On that bitter note, Faith attached the chain around her neck and dropped the half medallion beneath the neck of her shirt. A reminder, she told herself, that she was no one’s savior.

Yet as the metal nestled between her breasts, its chill resting where her heart thumped furiously in her chest, a sense of peace stole through her. Peace, not bitterness or loneliness or grief.

Instead of being reminded of Jane’s death, Faith found herself remembering the girl’s life—the way she’d smiled and laughed and drunk soda out of her Houston Rockets mug. And despite the tears streaming down Faith’s cheeks, a smile touched her lips.

An hour later, Jesse finished Faith’s yard, put away the mower, and barely resisted the urge to break down her door, throw her over his shoulder, and physically drag her back to the shelter. He could have, except for his conscience, making him feel like the biggest jerk in the world. Who the hell was he to ask her to open herself up to the hurt again?

Even as the question raced through his mind, he damned himself. It didn’t matter if she did wind up hurt, as long as he got his chance at heaven. At forgiveness. That was all that really mattered. He had himself to worry about. His own salvation.

He climbed onto his Harley, revved the engine, and took off. Damn the link between them. That was the problem. Every time he turned around, he was seeing into her thoughts, reliving her past, and it did something to him. The memories touched feelings he’d buried a long time ago, chipped at the wall he’d
built around his heart. A wall so thick that no one could touch him or hurt him.

Except her.

A wave of anger swelled inside him and he nearly sent the bike into a tailspin as he swerved into the driveway at the foster home.

When Jesse strode into the kitchen, he found Bradley layering noodles, tomato sauce, and ricotta cheese into a casserole dish. The smell of oregano and garlic bread burned his nostrils, and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt for the poor dog next door. It was lasagna night. Again. Now
that
really topped off his day.

He collapsed into a kitchen chair, spread his legs out in front of him, and ran a tired hand over his face.

“How’s Faith?” Bradley asked, pouring a can of tomato sauce into the dish.

“Out to set a record for most difficult female.”

The counselor chuckled, added a layer of noodles and more sauce. “I see you two are getting to know each other pretty well. I’ve always been more the flowers-and-candy type myself. I never thought about home repair as a way to a woman’s heart.”

Jesse shrugged. “I’m not looking for a way to her heart.”

“Then what, pray tell, are you doing over there every morning while I’m toughing it out at Daniel’s therapy sessions?”

“Looking for a way to her conscience.” A way to touch her, he added silently. All he needed was to find something in the world she wanted, something his miracle could give her.

But Faith didn’t seem to want anything other than Jane, and though the miracle he had to give could
breathe life into a dying man, resurrecting someone already dead was strictly off-limits.

“If her conscience is what you’re after, I’d say you’re on the right track. I nearly spilled a cup of punch when I saw her at the dance. I don’t know how you coerced her into going, but I’m in awe.”

“Don’t go paying homage yet. She went to the dance, but it didn’t do any good. She’s still determined to stay away from the kids.”

Bradley layered in cheese, then more noodles and sauce. “That’s what she says, but I know Faith. If she was really set on staying away, you and a freight train couldn’t have towed her to that dance. You said it yourself. She’s stubborn. But she obviously misses the kids.”

“Not enough.”

“Not yet,” Bradley said, glancing over his shoulder. “But she’s coming around. Thanks to you. My only question”—Bradley paused to wipe his hands on a nearby dishtowel—“is why you? I’m the one who ought to be over there begging and pleading. If I thought it would work, I would be. I’m barely thirty-two and I’m going to be legally responsible for twelve kids if I sign Faith’s papers.”

“So don’t sign them.”

“I have to.” Bradley sighed. “I couldn’t turn my back on the kids and hand them over to a stranger. I’ll sign, but I’d rather not. I want Faith back. I
need
her.” He gave Jesse a pointed stare. “But you don’t. You’re not the one holding it all together, tossing and turning, worrying about dental appointments, grocery shopping, lunches, summer camp. So why are you so set on bringing her back?”

Jessie shrugged. “The kids miss her. They talk about her all the time. And she misses them. She nearly had a heart attack when I told her about
Ricky and Em’s date. That was her motivation to go to the dance. She wanted to see what Emily was wearing for her date with Ricky.”

Bradley laughed. “Sounds like Faith, all right.”

“She’s more unhappy away from them,” Jesse went on. “But she refuses to admit it.” He raked tense fingers through his hair and stared at the floor. He was at a complete dead end.

“Faith’s stubborn,” Bradley said as if reading his thoughts. “But she’s worth the effort.”

Worth a miracle, if Jesse could find something, anything he could give her, do for her, that would renew her faith and bring her back to the kids, and soon. In less than a week. Otherwise …

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about otherwise

“The dance,” Bradley was saying, “was the first time she hasn’t attacked me with those damned papers. In fact, I haven’t even heard her mention them for nearly a week now, which has to mean she’s coming around.”

“Not fast enough.”

“Give her time. Jane’s death was hard on her. She misses the girl and she’s nursing a lot of guilt over what happened, especially since she was standing right there.”

Jesse stiffened, his gaze colliding with Bradley’s. “She saw the accident?”

The man nodded. “Jane crossed the intersection maybe a yard or two in front of Faith. Five seconds more, and Faith would have been the one who got hit.”

“Aw,
hell
.” Jesse rubbed his throbbing temples.

“She’s been a zombie since the death, but you’re changing all that. I have to tell you, you’re good with
people. The kids and, of course, Faith. Just be patient with her.”

If only things were that simple, but Jesse didn’t have patience, much less time. Time was precious. His power was active for all of two weeks, half of which he’d already spent. Then he had to deliver the final product and move on to an eternity in heaven, or renege and spend the rest of his life in hell. This flesh-and-blood, living, breathing, frustrating hell.

“I didn’t know she’d seen the accident,” Jesse said, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling her pain, her determination to stay indifferent, isolated. “No wonder.”

“It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Bradley popped the casserole dish into the oven and set the timer. “The way life can turn on a dime, I mean. You go through the motions, play by the rules—do unto others and all that—then zap, something happens and you lose.”

“Everybody loses,” Jesse muttered. “There’s no winning this game. The ones who make up the rules see to that.” With insurmountable surprises.

“No argument here, but I’ll tell you like I tell the kids; it isn’t whether you win or lose; it’s how you play.”

“I’m tired of playing.”

Bradley retrieved a soda from the refrigerator before sitting down at the table opposite Jesse. “Well, buddy, you haven’t got a choice. None of us do. We’re here, so we play.” A slam of the front door punctuated his words, followed by a stream of voices. “Looks like we’re on duty,” he added as the first of a dozen kids barreled into the kitchen.

Dinner was chaos. Homework was a string of arguments. Bedtime was nearly a knock-down, drag-out, and Jesse relished every minute of it. He never
completely forgot about Faith, but at least he had a distraction from her image dancing in his head, her voice whispering through his senses, her scent unraveling his concentration, her memories wreaking havoc on his determination.

When darkness fell, however, Jesse had to seek a different distraction. Or rather, the distraction sought him.

He was simply concerned about Trudy, he convinced himself as he parked his bike in a well-lit parking lot and walked the few blocks to his old apartment building. She was young and alone, hungry and cold, and he needed to check on her.

But deep down, Jesse knew the real reason he went inside. The past called to him, louder than his conscience, and he had to go back. To relive his memories and face who and what he’d been. To feed his hatred—the only thing that could completely distract him from what seemed an impossible mission with Faith.

“Trudy?” The apartment was entirely dark. Empty. Worry crept through him, until he saw the dark stain on the floor.

The bloody reminder of the life he’d once had. The memories rushed at him and he closed his eyes.

“Rachel,” his voice was little more than a desperate croak. He blinked, trying to see his sister’s face one last time…. No! It wouldn’t be the last time. Jesse couldn’t lose them both. Jason was already so still
.

Jesse summoned his dying strength and focused. There. He could see her. Blood seeped from her chest. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes open, her face expressionless…. No!

He blinked frantically, as if with each lift of his eyelids
he would be more likely to see her smile, move, breathe, flinch—something
, anything
to let him know she was still alive. That her end hadn’t come. Not hers. Not his little sister’s
—

A boot landed in Jesse’s middle. Pain shot through him, a searing agony in his skull. His vision clouded and he sucked in a breath as two shadows hovered around him
.

“That’s for walking in on our deal and screwing things up, cop.” Another kick, and blackness swamped the pain. “And that’s for your no-good brother. He wanted out, so now he’s out. Permanently.” Laughter followed Jesse into oblivion, along with another vicious kick to his ribs. Bones cracked, but the pain was fleeting now. Unconsciousness was coming quickly
.

“Leave him alone, man. He’s dead. Man, this is bad news. You took out the girl, too. There was no need for that!”

No!

“… take it easy, baby. We’re almost there.”

Jesse opened his eyes to the darkness and the sound of voices drifting from the hallway outside apartment 3B. His heart slammed against his ribs, his breathing quick and shallow and painful.

“Down here, baby.”

“Forget it,” came a stubborn female voice. “That place gives me the creeps. I ain’t going in there.”

“Come on …”

“I
ain’t
going in there.”

“All right, all right. Just chill, baby. I know this quiet spot on the second floor. I’ll send you to the moon and you can get me off.”

“Anywhere as long as it’s not there. There’s a ghost in that place.”

“That’s a load of crap. There ain’t no ghosts in there.”

Jesse walked out into the hallway and two pairs of eyes widened. He stared at the young teenage couple as they jerked to a stop several feet away. Anger raged through his veins, firing his body as hot as his blood.

“Holy Toledo … his eyes …” The boy stumbled backward.

“I told you,” the girl shrieked, whirling to follow him. “I
told
you.”

The couple scrambled for the stairs, and Jesse took a deep breath. He turned a fraction and caught his reflection in a fragment of broken window glass. Two pinpoints of white-hot light gleamed from his eyes, and he clamped them shut.

Control, he told himself, willing his body to cool, his mind to forget, his vision to return to normal. He had to stay in control. But even as he fought to keep his emotions in check, the anger raged inside him, demanding release. His need for vengeance warred with the light that lived and breathed inside the man now.

You took out the girl, too
.

He stormed down the stairs, shoved open the door, and stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

In his mind, he saw the knife plunge down and pierce Rachel’s arm.
One strike
… Another stab near her shoulder.
Two
… Then the blade sank into her chest….
Three
…

You’re out!

“Hey, buddy. Watch where the heck you’re going—” The words died the moment Jesse’s gaze fixed on the man he’d slammed into.

Well, if it ain’t the nosy big-brother cop. Hey, cop? You want a piece of little brother’s action?
The words
echoed in Jesse’s memory as he stared at the familiar man. The air bolted from his lungs, a wave of rage burning through his body, like fire sweeping through dry brush, sucking up the oxygen.

He blinked. It couldn’t be…. His mind rifled back through the past and he saw the man hovering over his own near-dead body, staring down at him with anxious, nervous eyes while his partner, the murderer, finished off his sister.

The past year had changed him little. The guy was still dirty-looking with long, greasy hair and red-rimmed eyes. Still nervous and anxious-looking. Still alive.

The last thought grated on Jesse’s nerves as much as the man’s hoarse voice.

“Holy mother—” the guy muttered, stumbling backward. “You—you’re dead.” Fear and shock held his eyes wide.

“No.” Jesse gripped the man by the collar and hauled him close, until he smelled his sour whiskey breath. “You’re the one who’s dead.” He slammed him up against the apartment building.

“But—but I saw it.” The guy shook his head, his stubble-covered jaw chafing the back of Jesse’s hand, a grating reminder against the tender scar. “I saw Bryan cut you, man. I
saw
.”

Bryan
…. The name echoed in Jesse’s head. Now his murderer had a name. Bryan. And Jesse had a way to find him. A way to quench the rage so close to boiling over inside him. Then he could focus on Faith, on his true mission. This was the reason for his failure so far. It wasn’t Faith’s stubbornness. It was Jesse’s preoccupation; he’d been too angry and bitter over his own past to help anyone over theirs. Vengeance could soothe the anger, help him focus.
Bryan
.