Faithless Angel (7 page)

He had only one purpose—to renew Faith’s hope in life. Jesse had to forget the pain in her eyes, the lure of her soft, full, trembling lips, and convince her living and caring and sharing were all worth the effort.

He couldn’t walk out on her again as he’d done
this morning. He had to get close to her, win her trust, make her feel.

A sudden sense of loneliness swept through him, not his own, but Faith’s. He stiffened.

Linked. Connected
.

“You all right?” Bradley’s voice cut through Jesse’s thoughts. He glanced up to see the man standing in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand, a pair of wire spectacles in the other.

Jesse nodded. “Do you need me for anything?”

Bradley shook his head. “No. Everybody’s upstairs getting ready for bed.” He walked into the room and sank down into a chair opposite Jesse. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts about staying on here. The kids really took to you today. I haven’t ever seen Ricky do dishes without putting up at least fifteen minutes of griping.”

Jesse smiled. “He owed me. I beat him at arm wrestling, and he wanted a rematch. No dishes, no rematch. The kid hates to lose.”

“You got that right.” The other man grinned; then his face took on a serious expression. “He pounded another boy last month for tackling him during football practice. Gave the boy a black eye and a bloody lip. The school rewarded him with one month of detention for fighting.” Bradley shook his head. “But now is a cakewalk compared to the way things used to be. Just last year Ricky was a walking pharmacy and armed to the hilt. He’d already been ditching school regularly for three years. CPS got him when he shot one of his connections because the guy ripped off five bucks’ worth of drugs.” Bradley wiped a hand over his eyes. “Nothing compared to detention, huh?”

“Sounds like he was pretty bad news.”

“He was. He’s still a little violent, but he takes
most of his aggression out on the football field. Except, of course, for last month. But with a past like his, you can’t complain about a little fighting. Way back when, Ricky would have shot that boy instead of laying into him with his fists.”

“This place must be doing him some good.”

“It is—not only Ricky but the others, as well. Last year we even received a recognition award from the mayor.”

“How long has Faith’s House been around?”

“Faith started off about five years ago, right after she graduated from college. At least a dozen agencies contacted her about a job, but she wanted to start her own group foster home. She’d volunteered at a shelter in Austin while she went to University of Texas, and that’s where she came up with the plan for Faith’s House.”

“Who provides the funding?”

“The state gives a monthly reimbursement for each child, but it isn’t nearly enough to provide for them like this.” Bradley’s gaze swept around the room, the comfortable sofa and chairs, the thick carpeting. The furnishings were low-key, tasteful, but high quality. “It’s not the Hilton, but it ain’t Motel 6 either. Anyhow, Faith pumps a lot of her own money into this place. Payback, she always tells me.”

“How’s that?”

“She was orphaned herself when she was a teenager, though she never had to go through the welfare system. She had a guardian, but he was little more than a stranger. I guess that’s why she relates so well to the kids. I hate to think where they’d be if not for Faith. She takes on even the worst. Or she did.” Bradley rubbed at his tired eyes. “I just hope
things run smoothly while she’s off trying to get herself together.”

“What happened?”

“One of our kids was killed a little over two weeks ago by a drunk driver. It devastated Faith. She was really close to this particular girl. Jane—that’s what we called her—wasn’t like the other kids. Before she came to Faith’s House, she went through some terrible incident where she was severely wounded. The trauma caused amnesia. Nobody knew who she was. Somebody had wheeled her into the emergency room and left her there. It was about this time last year, and school had just let out for the summer, so there were no reported absences, nobody calling in about a missing child. Nothing. CPS didn’t have a clue as to her name, so they started calling her Jane Doe.

“I don’t know what it was about her, but Faith took to her right away,” Bradley went on. “Maybe it’s because the girl was just about the same age as Faith when she’d been orphaned. Anyhow, Faith helped her through some pretty rough nightmares those first few months.” He shook his head. “To nurse Jane through such a hard time, then lose her in the blink of an eye devastated her. She hasn’t been the same since. Yesterday was the first time she’s set foot here since the funeral, and I was surprised she even did that. I was hoping that seeing the kids might make her stay, but I guess not.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks. Maybe she just needs a little time to come around.”

“And maybe Ricky will win the good citizenship award.”

Jesse smiled. “Miracles do happen.”

“I hope you’re right.” Bradley got to his feet and headed for the doorway. “You don’t know Faith. She
eats and sleeps this place. For her to give it up for over this long is a terrible sign. It’ll take nothing short of a miracle to bring her around after what happened to Jane.”

That it would, Jesse thought as he listened to Bradley’s fading footsteps. A door creaked shut, and silence closed in.

It would take a miracle, but then that was why Jesse was here. Tomorrow he would go back to Faith’s and resume his mission. Nothing, not even the lingering memories of his untimely death, would spoil what he had to do. He wouldn’t let them.

Jesse closed his eyes and tried to ignore the image that lurked at the far edges of his mind—the brilliant green eyes, the full, kissable lips. He had to think of her in purely professional terms. This was business. A means to an end.

Linked. Connected
.

If only the pull of her wasn’t so strong. So potent. If only …

Jesse shifted his thoughts away from Faith and concentrated on the sound of raised voices that came from upstairs.

“I’ve got five minutes more bathroom time, you pighead, so stop bothering me.”

“You’ve been in there thirty minutes, Em. I’ve got to go.”

“You’ll just have to hold it.”

“And you’ll just have to hurry up….”

A smile tugged at his lips as his memory stirred a similar scene. The voices faded as time pulled Jesse back until he found himself in apartment 3B.

He stared across the living room to the teenage girl and boy playing tug-of-war with a black leather jacket
emblazoned with a Harley Davidson logo on the back
.

“It’s mine, Jason,” the girl said in a hiss, pulling and tugging, her soft brown hair slapping against her pale cheeks
.

“Jess gave it to me,” Jason fired back, his eyes blazing the same midnight fire as the girl in front of him. “Didn’t ya, Jess?”

“What’s the fuss over? There’s a windbreaker hanging in the closet, and two blue-jean jackets,” Jesse told them, buttoning up the shirt to his uniform. He wiped at his sleepy eyes, wishing he’d had at least a few more winks. But he had to get a move on or he’d be late for his shift. He stuffed the ends of the shirt into his pants, checked his gun, then reached for his badge
.

“A windbreaker is for geeks.”

“And the blue-jean jackets?” Jesse asked
.

“Not total geekdom, but way too old to be cool,” Rachel, his younger sister, informed him. “Everybody’s wearing the Harley jackets, and I called it first, and you owe me for baking you that cake last week. You’ll just have to stay home,” she told her brother. “Or go à la geek. But then your new buddies don’t really go for the nerd look.”

“Shut up,” Jason replied. “Now give it up. They’re waiting for me.”

“Who?” Rachel challenged. “Ask him where he’s going, Jess. I bet it ain’t to the library.”

“
It
isn’t,”
Jesse corrected, sitting down to pull his boots on. “I bet it
isn’t
to the library.”

Jason laughed in his sister’s face, and she tightened her grip on the “cool” jacket, as Jessie had heard over and over before he’d given in and forked over nearly a hundred bucks to get one for Jason’s last birthday. Money he would have been better off saving. Finances had been tight for the past few months since they’d made the move to Houston. Tighter than tight. Hell,
he’d nearly gone under a time or two. But not much longer, he promised himself
.

“You can stay home tonight,” Rachel informed Jason. “It won’t kill you, you know.”

“Enough,” Jesse said, getting to his feet. “Give Rachel the jacket.”

“But it’s
my
jacket.”

“You should have thought of that when you were eating that chocolate cake.”

Jason ground his teeth, but he let go. A triumphant Rachel hugged the jacket, then threw her arms around Jesse’s waist
.

“Thanks. I wish you didn’t have to work all night.”

“I have to.” He patted her shoulder, ignoring the urge to slide his arms around her and pull her even closer
.

“I know, but I still wish you didn’t. I love you,” she said fiercely, giving him another hug
.

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t open his mouth. Years of holding back, of bottling up his feelings, barricading them behind a hard wall of strength, had taken their toll
.

He simply stroked his sister’s smooth hair for a long moment, relishing the feel, like silk against his palms. Then she pulled away and disappeared into an adjoining bedroom, the coveted jacket clutched tight in her hands
.

“I don’t need a stinking jacket just to go out,” Jason muttered, arms folded, a frown on his face. “It’s not that cold.” He folded his arms in a belligerent pose. “I can’t believe she thinks that stunt is gonna keep me cooped up here. I can look cool without that stupid jacket.”

“Where is it you have to go that’s so urgent?” Jesse asked
.

“Just to hang out at Mitch’s.”

“And who’s Mitch?”

“This guy I met. He’s in one of my classes at school.”

“And you can’t skip one night?”

“I can, but I don’t want to.”

“You sure there isn’t more to it?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You’re not a scout.”

“I swear.” Jason crossed his heart
.

Jesse gave his brother a searching glance, then let his expression soften. He retraced his steps to the bedroom, rummaged inside the closet, and pulled out a worn jacket that hadn’t seen light in at least fifteen years
.

He ran a hand over the football patch embroidered just under his name, before tossing it at his surprised brother. “This cool enough for you?”

“You’re letting me borrow your letterman’s jacket?” The boy’s eyes lit with surprise, then excitement
.

“Don’t get it dirty, and be home by ten. And Jason,” Jesse said, drawing the teenage boy’s full attention. “If you aren’t on the level with me, you’ll regret it. Understand?”

Jason nodded
.

Then the scene started to blur, turning to a kaleidoscope of shapes and images that made Jesse’s head hurt.

This ain’t none of your business
…

Jesse’s eyes snapped open. His gaze swept the room, from the lifeless fireplace to the patchwork quilt draped over the back of a beige sofa. No dirty floors or leaky ceilings. He was at Faith’s House, and Jason and Rachel were gone.

Gone
. The word beat through his head, making
him bolt to his feet. He rubbed his fingers over the scar covering his hand, felt again the cut of the knife.

Heat swirled around him, choking him, and he headed for the back door. The night pulled him outside, into the fresh air for some blessed relief. Only there was no relief. Just the heat and the rage and the hatred that still pulled at Jesse’s conscience, turning his intentions to mush.

He glanced up at the garage apartment where he was to stay. A light burned brightly in the window, calling to him, his body urging him toward the stairs. He needed to sleep so he could try again tomorrow with Faith. So he could forget Jason and Rachel, and everyone else. For now. Everything except what he had to do.

This ain’t none of your business
…

It wasn’t. Not anymore, he told himself, but the voice grew loud, demanding.
None of your business
…

Instead of mounting the apartment steps, Jesse headed for the street.

Final payback, he told himself. Then he could get on with his mission. Then the past would be laid to rest. Then Jesse could rid himself of the damned voice in his head….

He’d barely taken two steps when a scream split the night. He whirled, and as loudly as his past called to him, the scream was louder. More insistent. More heartbreaking.

And it came from Faith’s House.

“Go away,” Faith grumbled, covering her head with the sofa pillow. But the pounding on her front door persisted. Louder, louder …

“Dammit, Faith! Open the door!”

The sofa pillow slipped to the floor and she jerked her head up. Peering through the midnight shadows filling her living room, she fixed her blurry gaze on the front door. The porch light burned brightly, illuminating the dark figure that loomed outside. Jesse Savage’s voice thundered in her head.

“Open up!”

It wasn’t so much the command itself that had her climbing from the couch. No, it was the urgency lacing each syllable. She threw open the door just as he was about to pound again.

“It’s about time.” He wore faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The soft cotton stretched across the broad expanse of his chest and accented each carved muscle.

“What took you so long?” His voice, deep and rich and aggravated, brought her unconscious inspection of him to a dead halt. She stiffened, squelching the strange tingling in her stomach.

“I was sleeping,” she murmured, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. Shaky? What was wrong with her? Flipping the lock on the burglar bars, she swung the iron gate open. “It’s after two
A.M.
, for Pete’s sake—”