His Devious Angel (3 page)

Immense satisfaction filled her for the split second she had him safe in her arms—before the impact. After the car hit her, the pain overrode everything—pain and shock.

Anger followed close behind. Rage at the pointlessness of the accident flooded into her scrambled brain and gave her the necessary courage not to pass out. Why some stupid fool had to show off his fancy wheels by driving like a lunatic, she'd never understand. Not only could she have been killed, but the child clutching at her might also have ended up a bloody corpse.

She hated to admit that some slick last-minute control on the driver's part had prevented them from even worse injury, but in her heart she knew it to be true.  Nevertheless, he'd been well over the speed limit; therefore she felt justified in wanting to kill the SOB.

Just then, the boy's body jerked spasmodically, and she felt his terror. She needed to be strong. Keep him calm.  Ignore the fire igniting into flames along her left side. She swallowed the blood that had pooled in her mouth from where she'd bitten her tongue and focused on keeping her voice from shaking.

Half lying, half sitting on the side of the road, she rocked her precious bundle back and forth and whispered, "It's okay, baby. I have you safe. We're fine."

From the end of a long tunnel, or so it seemed, she was aware that after the screech from the brakes stopped, a car door opened. But it wasn't until a large male rushed over and knelt beside her that the straw broke. 

Oh god! A child! A massive adrenaline rush made breathing impossible and coherent thinking pure nonsense. Training and instinct took over.

Then just before the moment of impact, a smallish woman appeared from out of nowhere to lift the boy in her arms, swinging her back to the car to take the brunt of the blow. He’d never seen anyone move so fast—or so fluidly for that matter.

The sound of the car hitting her body tore his heart right out of him, leaving behind a gaping hole of anguished fear. Add the screech of the tires, and it would be a litany of sounds he’d never forget. Only one telling sob escaped as he bolted from the vehicle and slid to the ground next to the victims. Expecting blood and broken bodies, he wilted with relief when the mass of limbs unfolded and a very angry face pushed its way into his personal space until their noses all but came into contact.

Squeaking with fury, obviously unable to catch a full breath, the blonde doll glared and hissed like a cornered tomcat. And rightly so. He deserved whatever she could manage to push out from lips visibly trembling.

“Are you crazy? Driving—speeding lunatic—kill people.”

“I’m so sorry.” His hands reached to help.

Her visible effort to speak impressed the heck out of him. Finally she managed, “Get out of my way, you maniac.” She slapped at his hands, all the while cuddling the quivering, shocked boy against her chest. Her trembling hand ruffled the boy’s bangs and then checked his limbs. “Sweetie, are you okay. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I want my mummy.”

The wail almost broke Liam’s heart. He answered in a voice softened by shame. “Of course you do, Streak. Don’t cry, big guy. I’ll get her for you. Where do you live?”

Just then a scream devastated what was left of his nerves as a woman heavy with child raced awkwardly towards them and collapsed to her knees.  “Pedro!! Mi niño, are you okay? Are you hurt? Tell mamá.”

Blondie released her hold on the boy, who was now angling and reaching in the direction of the distraught woman. “Mamá, I lost my ball.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll buy you another ball.” While feverishly squeezing him to her, the mother rained kisses over the child’s face and hair. “Just promise me to never run into the street like that again. Promise me.” Saying those words seemed to ignite her anger, and her voice rose. She gripped the boy’s arms and shook the sobbing, frightened child until Liam reached over and put his hands on top of hers.

“Don’t,” was all he said, but it was enough. Wails of fear and pain issued from between the mother’s lips to harmonize with the child’s as Liam wrapped his big arms around them both and hugged them back and forth before lifting them all up to their feet.

“We need to call an ambulance and take him to the hospital. A doctor should check him out, don’t you think?” Liam insisted, and then hesitated when he felt the mother withdraw.

 Blondie, still crouched on the ground, looked up at the mother and talked softly. "I'm sure the car didn't touch him, but we can't take any chances."

“I can drive him—” Liam broke in.

Blondie's head whipped his way. “Like that’s going to happen. You shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel,” she sneered.

“Right. Don’t know what I was thinking. We’ll call emergency. I’ll get my cell phone right—"

“No.” Pedro’s mother broke into their conversation. “Pedro seems to be okay. He doesn’t need to go to the hospital.” Then she leaned over and her hand went to stroke the blonde’s cheek for an instant as she looked into her eyes. “Maybe it's you who needs medical attention, miss? Gracias—muchas gracias. God will grace you for what you did today.”

Blondie’s hand covered hers. The two women shared an intimate look that spoke from one mother’s heart to another woman’s soul. A telling look that only women can share.

"I'm fine, just catching my breath." Blondie smiled and squeezed the other's hand.

Clutching the toddler, whose arms were wrapped tightly around her neck, the lady with the immense stomach turned clumsily in the direction of the curb and staggered forward. Her pregnancy looked to be advanced and the weight of the child seemed to be almost more than she could handle. But handle it she did. Stoically and slowly, she’d almost reached the sidewalk before Liam got a nudge from his irate victim, who slapped his leg, gave him "the look" and pointed.

Stunned, maybe, but not being too slow, he caught on and rushed over to help. “Ma’am, let me take the boy. He's too heavy for you."

The child peeked up at him from where he'd hidden his face on his mom's neck and wailed, "No." His arms tightened and he hugged even closer to his mother.

"No need, señor. Pedro is shy."

Driven, Liam couldn't let it go. "Look, ma'am, you need to take my card in case there’re any problems that appear later, you know, if the boy needs to see the doctor, or for that matter, anything that might arise from this experience. I know the accident was my fault, and I want to take care of him.”

“No, mister. It wasn’t your fault. My Pedro ran in front of your car. That you stopped in time is a miracle, and the young lady who saved him is an angel. I’ll say prayers for you both.”

As if he didn’t hear her, he put the card into the pocket of her sweater, forcing her to take it. “At least tell me your name and where you live, so I can check later to make sure he’s okay.”

“I’m Isobela Ruiz. We live in the white house, just here. Upstairs in the apartment.” She nodded to the closest building, a dilapidated structure. Then she started forward again to where the stairs rose steeply.

He turned to go back to his car and began to hurry when he saw Blondie using the bumper to pull herself to her feet.

She rose slowly. White-faced, she leaned against the car.

“Help her, you idiot. She can’t carry him up those stairs. She can barely walk herself.”

Pivoting, he saw truth in her words.  He sprinted back to Isobela and her son.  “Let me take the boy and help you upstairs. It’s too hard for you to carry him.”

“Mama!” The baby had a loud voice and a stubborn streak. “Again he tightened his hold around his mother’s neck and hid his face in her hair.

“Thank you for offering. I’ll just go slowly.”

Liam didn’t hesitate. “Pardon me, I need to help you.” With those words, he gently lifted the pair in his arms and carried them up the crooked, badly chipped stairs to the top, where the flimsy screen door flapped in the wind. He set her down carefully and tousled the boy’s hair, then turned in time to see that Blondie seemed to be in some difficulty.

Shit!
His stomach tightened and gave him hell as he darted down the stairs to her side, just in time to catch her as she collapsed to her knees.

She wrenched herself from the man's hands, then slapped at him when he wouldn't let go. "Don’t touch me, you nutcase. Driving like you're racing in the frigging Indy 500." Her face ended up two inches from his. "Damn fool. You could have killed us."

He frowned, pulled back, and clenched his hands. “I'm sorry." What could he say? She was right, and he hated knowing it. On the other hand, he'd never shirked his responsibilities or hesitated to be accountable for his own actions. "I was speeding."

"Achh!" Disgustedly, she pushed him out of her space and again hung onto the car, trying to get the support she needed to rise.

"Don't be silly. Let me help you."

"No! I don't want you to touch me."

"Why are you being so stubborn? I just want to help.” Without further ado, he lifted her into his arms, over the side of the convertible, and into the front seat.

“Are you crazy? Let me out of here. I’m not going anywhere with you. You all but killed me earlier with your stupid stunt, flying through the red light—”

“It was yellow.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.” He glared at her over the side of the car and watched the sparks ignite
in her cat-spitting green eyes. She crossed her arms and pushed her face closer. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

“To the nearest hospital.”

“No way! I don’t want to go to a hospital.” A small dimple appeared on each side of her mouth as she ground her teeth.

“Tough! My car hit you. You need to see a doctor. With a slap on the door, he started around the front of the vehicle to get in at the driver’s side.

“My mother's a nurse. She'll check me out. Just let me sit here for a minute, and then I'll be on my way. Hopefully never to run into you again."

"I think it was the other way around."
Have you lost your mind?
Whatever possessed him to make such a stupid joke about the accident? Obviously slipped out before his brain had caught up with his flapping mouth.
Adrenaline stimulation must have short-circuited your brain cells.

His grin faded from the power of her direct, unflinching, not-amused stare.

"Look, it's the shock. I'm not usually so insensitive. Truly, I want to help, and if you let me drive you to your mother's, I promise not to go over thirty miles an hour." His hand began its rise, since he'd intended on putting it over his heart, but on second thought he decided to forgo the silly maneuver and hope the sincerity in his voice would be enough to convince her.

Her trembling fingers rose to secure her hair where it had escaped from a clip in the back, while her half-lidded gaze searched his face and contemplated. He saw her wince and reached to help with the silky strands. Her exclamation of annoyance stopped him immediately. A thought popped into his mind and wouldn't go away. She'd be officer material in any man's army; the rank of captain came to mind or maybe torturer, interviewer, person who extracts information.

As she lowered her arms, a groan escaped.

"That's it. You're hurt and being stubborn." He headed around to the driver's side and got into the car. He pushed the starter button, reached for his safety belt, and peeked to see what she thought about his high-handedness.

Yep, she wrenched at the door handle, fully intending to get out of his car. He reached past her and pulled it closed, then pushed the child safety locks and flinched when he heard her swear under her breath.

Green eyes blazed spikes of resentment aimed directly toward his face.  "Get this into your head. I am not going anywhere with you. Not even to the corner. Now let me out of this car."

Without knowing why, Liam glanced into the rear-view mirror, not at all surprised to see his earlier phantom.  Depp's look-alike radiated satisfaction in his raised eyebrows and smug smile. Pride flooded his face as he looked adoringly at the she-mule in the passenger seat.

"You're in for it now, my man!”

Liam had no idea how he could hear the voice, see the body and yet know with everything sane in him that he was arguing—mind-talking—with a ghost.
"Don't you start!"