Nobody's Angel (4 page)

Recognizing one of the older ones, she handed up a Wal-Mart sack on her way toward Annie's office. The child knew what to do, and Faith could hear the muffled shrieks and giggles as the loot was distributed. The kids tried to be quiet so as not to disturb the sleepers in the room below, but kids had too much energy at this hour.

Annie appeared at the back of the hall just as the giggles of the children escalated and grumbles emerged from the room of sleepers.

Breezing past Annie, Faith dumped the last sack in the chair with the others. Annie's office looked a lot like its occupant— dumpy, disheveled, tired, and overworked.

Pulling her raveled cardigan together, Annie peered into the sacks. “Faith, you're a lifesaver. Your parents should have called you Charity.”

“That's what they called my sister.” Faith removed an overlarge cable-knit sweater from one sack and jerked it on over the thin hair of Annie's head. “If I hadn't seen my father's
birth certificate, I'd swear they'd made up the name of Hope, too. Unrepentant hippies.”

Annie's head popped out as she wriggled her arms into the sweater. “I wasn't cold,” she protested.

“You make me cold just looking at you.” Faith shivered inside her thermal-lined denim jacket. It was colder inside the drafty building than outside in the sun. “How are the girls and their mother doing?” She'd intended the sweater for the mother, but knowing Annie, that's where it would end up anyway.

“They're doing okay. That man has a way with kids. Is he a cop?” Annie asked bluntly.

Startled, Faith stopped unpacking the bags. “What man?”

“That man who calls himself Quinn. Didn't you send him? I saw him in your shop yesterday, and I didn't figure it was coincidence that he showed up here last night. He's hardly inconspicuous, so if he's undercover, he has problems.”

“Quinn?” Faith desperately searched her memory for the name, but she knew in her heart who it had to be. She wasn't normally prone to anger, but he'd had her temper cooking twice now, and this time he wasn't even in the room. “What does he look like?” she asked, striving for rationality and not a hysterical fit.

Annie gave her a queer look. “The Highlander, maybe?” she suggested. “Are you telling me you don't know this guy? That I could be letting some pedophile up there with those kids?”

“What did he tell you?”

Annie glanced toward the ceiling. “That he's just out of prison, doesn't have a place to stay, and he's washing dishes at O'riley's until he can manage a deposit on a place of his own. I didn't believe his story because I'd seen him in your place. He isn't exactly the type we get in here.”

No, Faith didn't imagine he was. Even with the long hair and earring, Adrian Raphael was too well put-together, too visibly solid and powerful to be among the world's lost and confused. Still, the court would have fined him everything he owned. He was probably broke.

She didn't think it was coincidence that he showed up here. He could have overheard her conversation with Annie and checked the nearest shelters. Annie wasn't hard to find.

“The man you saw in my shop was no cop,” she warned. How much more should she tell Annie? Should she go upstairs, verify it was Raphael, and have him thrown out on his rear?

What could he want with the homeless shelter? Any possibility she considered didn't sound healthy to her well-being.

“Good morning, Mrs. Nicholls,” the smooth baritone abruptly interrupted before she could organize her thoughts. “Easing your guilt with a little charity this morning?”

Damn him. Double damn him. The grating tone of innocence didn't set her off so much as the use of that hated name. Ignoring Annie's startled reaction, Faith swung around to confront the monster. His physical presence struck her in the face as her nose nearly brushed his flannel-shirted chest. She hurriedly stepped back.

“My name is
Hope.
And I suggest you leave now.” Which was a ridiculous threat given her head was at his chin level and, despite his leanness, he could probably break her in two.

“Hope?”
Amusement and disbelief curled his lips. “Faith
Hope
, and this is your charity?”

She'd heard every form of the joke from the moment she was born and had no patience with it now. “
Charity
is my sister.” She stepped farther back, out of the danger of his solidity. “This is Annie, my friend. I told you before, I have nothing to say to you. Leave me alone.”

“I just took doughnuts to Joe at the station. Should I call him?” Annie asked with concern.

“I really don't think Mister …” Faith watched in triumph as he flinched over the hesitation before she chose his fake name.“…
Quinn
, will want that, will he?” She might not know a lot about law, but she could guess a parolee shouldn't be out of state. “I think Mr. Quinn will leave quietly.”

“And leave you to sprinkle your largesse like bread crumbs while you live off the lives of widows and orphans?” he threw
back brashly. “Perhaps your friends would like to know about the source of your benevolence, Ms.
Hope
.”

“What I own, I earned. I owe no one any explanation.”

“Earned? I'll admit, living with Tony deserved combat pay, at the very least, but not at the expense of the innocent.”

Slack-jawed, Annie eased toward her desk. Annie had been her first friend in the city when she'd desperately needed a friend. She didn't want to see that relationship shattered by this vile man's wild accusations. Let the police have him. She glared at him and did nothing to stop Annie's progress toward the phone.

“Mr. Quinn! Mr. Quinn, will you play with me now?”

A pigtailed toddler in a threadbare pinafore threw her tiny arms around Adrian's leg. Tears sprung to Faith's eyes at the sight, even as she backed from the scene.

Adrian crouched and chucked the toddler under the chin. “Why don't you let Sissy read you one of the new books?”

“’ Cause I wanta play with
you
,” the little girl entreated.

Throat closing up, Faith gripped her handbag and nodded curtly at Annie. “I have to go. I'll talk with you later.”

Brushing past the lean man with the child clinging to his leg, Faith hastened down the hallway and out the door to the street.

She heard his unhurried stride on the pavement behind her as she turned the corner toward her car. Searching frantically through her purse for her keys, she walked a little faster. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to be reminded of who she'd been and who she'd never be. She just wanted to be left alone to make what she could of what was left.

A street kid leaned against the driver's side door of her car. She didn't need the hassle right now. She stayed on the curb and aimed for the passenger side.

“Hey, lady, where ya goin’? I just wanted a ride is all.”

Maybe that was all he wanted, but the knit cap and the gang tattoos warned that he was more trouble than she had time for. She shoved her key into the door lock.

“Hey, look lady, I don’ mean no trouble.” He ran around the bright turquoise hood as she jerked the door open.

Faith climbed into the car and tried to shut the door, but the kid grabbed it.

A stealthy form clouded the window, and the kid miraculously released his grip. Faith slammed the door as her would-be assailant suddenly hovered a foot above ground.

“She's with me,” the deep voice said with none of its usual smoothness.

Through the window, she could see a long-fingered brown hand wrapped in the kid's shirt, holding him clear of the ground. Faith hastily climbed over the stick shift and hit the driver's seat with key in hand. She just wanted out of here.

A silvered flash in the passenger window halted her before she could turn the key. The kid had a
knife
.

Before she could open her mouth to scream or even think of doing anything heroic, the silver weapon arced harmlessly down the street.

The kid howled in pain as long fingers bent his thin wrist backward.

Faith could only watch as the young tough hit the street running, holding his wrist protectively against his chest. She didn't see much point in arguing as the passenger door opened and Adrian folded himself into the seat beside her.

“I'd rather not wait for the police to investigate the altercation,” he said politely.

And they would. The station was just down the block and the army of eyes and ears around her would have passed the word by now. All she had to do was refuse to turn the car on and she could be rid of him without a fight. They'd revoke his parole and lock him up for another year or two.

Or she could pull away from the curb and drive peacefully away. Wondering if she needed her head examined, Faith switched on the ignition with shaking hand. She could feel the lethal violence emanating from Raphael's tense fists, but he'd used them to help her. In her book, one good turn deserved another. If he really wanted to physically harm her, he'd had plenty of opportunity already.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the car rumbled from
the curb and picked up momentum as a pair of patrolmen turned the corner.

“I don't know what you want with me.” Faith guided the car toward the main thoroughfare out of town. “I left Tony before your trial. I can promise you he didn't give me any papers to hide, and I never saw the money, never suspected it existed until Headley explained those papers to me.”

Adrian gave the cracked plastic dash of the shabby VW a wry look. “Keep it up. You just might convince me. Where did you find this thing? Mexico?”

“Actually, yes. My parents live down there. It's not as old as it looks.” Stiffly, she stared at the road ahead. The man beside her filled the small car until she couldn't breathe. She opened the window, but the breeze didn't diminish his overpowering presence. He wasn't wearing aftershave or any scent beyond whatever male pheromones drew her like a moth to a flame. Why had she never noticed him when he was working with Tony?

Because she'd never seen anyone but Tony. Blind, stupid—

“Why did you run back there?” he asked with open curiosity.

“Because thugs with knives scare me?”

Long brown fingers gestured impatiently. “Not then. You
should
have run then. Back at the shelter. You could have had me routed but you crumpled.”

Her hands tightened on the wheel. “Where am I taking you?”

“Wherever you're going. We need to talk.”

She didn't want to talk. She didn't trust him and he was ruining her beautiful, carefree day. Stubbornly, she sat silent as she steered onto the wide open road toward the mountains.

He tolerated the silence for a while, admiring the scenery but not relaxing, if his crossed arms were any indication. When they were sufficiently far out of town, he prodded her again. “This is the perfect opportunity to clear the air.”

“I don't think we have anything to clear. That part of my life is over, done, kaput, fi
nito.
I don't need your problems.”

“Tony did a job on you, too, huh?” Awkwardly, he adjusted
the uncomfortable position of his long legs as he swiveled to watch her. “Why didn't you ever have kids of your own?”

“None of your damned business.” The pain curled inside her, a spiked ball that gored her vital organs. “I'm heading into the mountains for the day. You'll be bored silly.”

“If I wasn't bored silly staring at four walls and butt ugly men, I won't be bored in the fresh air and freedom of the mountains.”

Faith winced at the dry whiskey of his voice. It really did have a magic quality that wrapped an air of trust and security around him, even though she knew he was a lying, conniving thief. A
dangerous
conniving thief. Even worse, a
lawyer
.

“You're not afraid I'll leave you stranded on a mountaintop?” she asked boldly.

“Not now that I'm warned of the possibility.” Humor sparkled through the dryness. “You're not at all what I expected.”

“Disappointed?” she taunted, hitting the gas. “Thought I'd be another of Tony's tarts?”

“Sounds like a frozen pizza dessert—Tony's Tarts, with lemon cream marinara sauce—yum yum.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Faith's mouth before she caught it and remembered just exactly who she was dealing with here. “Most amusing, but you'll remember I lived with charm and wit for eight years. I'm not fooled by appearances any longer.”

“Eight years?” Astounded, he stared at her. “You endured that lying bastard for
eight years
? Are you a saint or just stupid?” He waved his hand hastily. “Forget I said that. He must have married you out of the cradle.”

“There you go again. It comes as naturally as breathing for you, doesn't it? It still won't do you any good. I don't have any papers, and I don't have the money, so you can't charm me out of them.”

“All right, let's say I buy that for now. We can have a refreshing trip through the autumn hills and figure out what Tony might have done with them. Or we can drop the topic, enjoy the day, and get to know each other. Right now, I'm
about ready to opt for that last. I can always track you down again tomorrow and continue the argument.”

Faith shot him a doubting look. “I just told you, I lived with a con artist. I know better than to believe one now.”

He leaned forward to admire the spectacular view of the mountains ahead. She might survive this trip if he would leave her alone. Concentrating on the traffic and the road, she pretended he was a tourist.

He waited until they'd reached the dangerous passage through the mountains before he tried again. “Why did you run from the shelter? You looked as if you'd been gut-punched. You have some strange kind of phobia about kids? Are you allergic to them? Is that why Tony kept Sandra on the side, to produce miniature Nichollses?”

Struck broadside, Faith considered ripping the steering wheel from the dash and pounding it over his ponytailed head, but the semis roaring around them discouraged it. She'd forgotten how irritating, demanding, self-centered, and just plain ornery men could be.

“I can't have kids,” she said bluntly, hoping to put him in his place. “We waited years until Tony was earning enough to support children, and then I couldn't have them.”