ANGEL'S KISS (A Dark Angel's Novel) (5 page)

I looked up into his eyes. He was so serious that he looked like he was in pain, his eyes pleading with me.

“As the detective in the family, shouldn’t that be my line?” I tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m serious, Lexie,” he said. “You’ve been threatened before because of the work you do, but this is strange.”

I couldn’t fight him on that, so I gave in. “Give me Maloran’s card.”

He found the card in his back pocket and held it out to me. But before I could take it, he pulled his hand back and asked, “Will you let me call for you?”

“Alan, I can still make a phone call. Stop treating me like a child. I’m fine.” As I said it, I caught a glimpse of the blood soaking through the bandage on my hand. Okay, so I wasn’t fine. But I still would make the call.

Alan reluctantly handed me the card and leaned in to kiss my forehead.

“I love you. Please try and ask for help when you need it. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you smart.” He turned and slowly went down the hall. I picked up the phone and punched in the number on the card.

“SCPD, Detective’s office,” said the sunny female voice; I pictured the blond happy receptionist from that old cop show NYPD Blue.

“Officer Maloran,” I asked the nice phone voice. Alan had returned with a broom to sweep up the mess.

“Just a moment please.”

What was I going to tell Maloran? I had a strange feeling this was just the beginning of some very weird shit.

“Maloran,” his voice sounded tense. I wonder if he’s always wound so tight.

“I…this is Lexie Lewis.” I stammered.

“Mrs. Lewis?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe it was me.

“Lexie, please, detective.”

“Lexie, how can I help you? I heard about the episode at the hospital—did you remember something?”

“Um, no, but I think it’s gotten a little more complicated than a mugging.”

“What happened?”

“I dialed my number to check messages, and I think I talked to the attacker—or someone who knows him. I’m not sure.”

“A man? What did he say?” Maloran’s voice seemed to deepen with curiosity.

“It sounded as if he knew me or I should know him. He had a strange accent, maybe European? I couldn’t place it. He said he hoped that I could forgive his associate for his behavior, like he was apologizing for somebody having bad table manners, rather than attacking me. He didn’t threaten me, but he wouldn’t tell me who he was, either. Alan took the phone and he hung up. I have a bad feeling that this won’t be the last time I hear from him.”

“Why’s that?”

“He just sounded happy to hear from me. Like he wants to be my friend, if you know what I mean.”

“That could work in our favor. I assumed they’d dump the phone; that’s why I didn’t put a trace on it. But I’ll get our tech department to do that. What’s the number?”

I gave him the number and asked, “Do you need our account information?”

“No, that should be all I need. Now, what else happened?” He asked it as if he could tell I was holding something back.

“Sorry, that’s all he said.” I didn’t want to share that he had called me a goddess or that his voice made me want to strip naked and roll around in satin. It just sounded too ridiculous to repeat, and I needed time to think it through.

“Mrs. Lewis, Lexie, don’t work this on your own. He’s already taken you against your will once. You may not get away next time. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” As I said it my shoulders slumped.

“Something gives me the feeling that I’m not hearing the whole story either. I may be wrong. But I doubt it. I’ve heard of your firm and I know you do some good work, but this is a police investigation. Moreover, you can’t be objective when you’re the victim. Now take care of yourself, don’t do anything stupid, and call if anything else happens. I’ll be in touch as soon as we hear something about the trace.”

Then he was gone, no good-bye or anything. It had been a long time since anyone had lectured me like that, probably not since my dad died. I wished he were here.

“Lexie, you need to rest. Come on, let’s go upstairs. Before your bath is stone cold.”

Alan had finished cleaning up my broken glass and was determined to get me away from the phone.

“Just a sec, Alan, I want to call Kim and have her order me a new phone.” Looking up at him, I saw how tired he was. “Honey, I’m sorry. You’re exhausted. Go on up. I’ll be right there. I promise.”

I picked up the phone and dialed the office. Then I realized that I never did check my messages. The hell with that. I wasn’t up to talking to Mr. Hypnotic Voice again. If it was important, they’d call back.

When Kim answered, she asked me how I was feeling. “Fine,” I told her. I was really getting sick of that word. Fine.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Ottie said you didn’t feel well today. Do you need me to do anything? ” Kim sounded concerned. I rarely call off work so she knows some things up but, ya gotta love Ottie---he knows me so well. He must not have told her about my little trip to the hospital. I’m glad he didn’t make a big deal about the incident. See I can’t even think the words; attack, kidnapping, or mugging. And because of that, I couldn’t let it go.

“Yes, actually I do. Can you ask
Devon
to trace my cell phone?” I wasn’t really going back on my word to Maloran. I wouldn’t be personally involved. No harm in just having
Devon
check. “I lost it last night and I want to see if anyone’s using it. Tell him that I lost it about
10:30
. He is to report to me or Ottie only, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll call him now and I’ll order you a new one. YOU take care of yourself and get some rest.” Kim is a nurturer; she really takes care of Ottie and me.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hit the end button and set the phone down by the fridge, but my hand wouldn’t release it. A shiver went down my spine as sweat broke out on my forehead.

The man on the phone knew my full name. Nobody knows my middle name —nobody who’s alive, anyway. I hate the name
Marietta
; I use the initial M. Even my birth certificate just has the letter M for a middle name. Nobody at the agency knows it. Even Alan doesn’t know it.

Dad thought it was funny. Since he owned a detective agency, he wanted to keep people guessing. It’s become a joke, everyone tried to guess.

I had millions of questions, but I wasn’t likely to get any answers tonight. I managed to relay a message from my brain to my fingers, ordering them to let go of the phone. My mouth was dry. So I didn’t think. I just grabbed a cold Yuengling from the fridge and headed for the stairs.

Needs Met

As I rounded the bed on my way to the bathroom, I squeezed Alan’s toes. He’d taken his usual spot, with book in hand. I love the way he looks when he lounges in bed. He’d taken his shirt off and as he adjusted his pillows I could see his stomach muscles tighten and ripple. He hasn’t changed a bit since his college baseball days—he’s still got those broad shoulders, narrow waist, and crystal-blue eyes peeking out from under thick lashes. His wavy, dark-blonde hair was a rumpled mess, which just made him look yummier to me. At 6'4" he’s just the right height, and his body is nice and lean since he runs regularly, but he has just enough meat on his bones to show that he’s not obsessed. I never want a man who spends more time on h
is looks than I spend on mine.

Giving him a good long look, I thought of an activity that might help me relax more than a bath.

“Alan, I’m sorry that you were up all night. Would you like to join me in the bath? I’ll make it up to you.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh. I’m exhausted, honey, and I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’ll take a rain check.” Alan raised his book back to his face, and rubbed his bruised jaw.

Grrreeeat, now I was reminded that I hit him. Well, at least I had my Yuengling and a hot bath to help me relax.

The steam hit me as soon as I opened the bathroom door. Ooh, that’s nice. I think of my bathroom as a personal retreat. Dennis helped me remodel it after Dad passed, and I went all out. My antique claw-foot tub is surrounded by windows so I can look out at the trees. I added oversized pedestal sinks and my great-grandmothers secretary, which sets next to the tub and serves as a vanity. Setting my beer on the pull-down desk, I got out a big terrycloth towel and undressed.

I tested the water. It needed to be hotter—Alan was right about that. I turned on the faucet and let the steaming water trickle into the tub as I veerrry slowly slipped in. Goose bumps popped up as my skin reacted to the hot water. I stretched out and settled in, while babying my injured hand. Ahhhhh. The water felt great and began to work its magic.

Leaning my head back against the porcelain, I concentrated on the feeling of the tiny air bubbles that slowly rose against my skin. I hadn’t realized how tense I was; it felt like my shoulders were up next to my ears. I let my arms float and worked on slowing down my heart rate.

After a few minutes I reached out with my foot and turned the hot water off. I stared up at the chandelier over the tub. The dangling crystals broke the light into a million colors that bounced against the walls. Did I mention that I love my bathroom? Dennis had had a fit when I said I wanted to put the old dining room chandelier up here, but I just waited until after the county inspection and did it myself. The county frowns on having hanging lights over open water. Huh. I wonder why?

Using my towel and my one good hand, I managed to twist off the cap on my Yuengling and have a nice, long gulp. That’s what I needed, although sex would have been nice, too. If only I could close my eyes and forget about the last twenty-four hours. But when I closed my eyes, all I could see is Alan’s busted lip.

How could I have lost it like that? And before that, I’d had no drugs in my system, no injuries, and yet I passed out for hours. My head hurt from thinking.

I dunked under the water, using my good hand to push my hair back and massage my head. Ow—shit. Why was my head sore? I prodded my scalp with my fingertips and then

I remembered the red wig. That bastard! He must have torn the wig right from my head, taking small clumps of hair and skin with it.

Why can’t I remember what happened? Tomorrow I’ll call the guys at the lab and see if they have any ideas about what could have been used to knock me out.

I washed my hair, soaked, buffed, and polished the rest of my body. My feet were nasty since I’d been running around without shoes all day; definitely time for a pedicure. Eventually my fingers and toes were so prune-y I had to get out.

After drying off, I wiped off a section of mirror to look at my scalp. My birthmark caught my attention first; it was a darker pink than normal.

My hair’s a little long in front, so my bangs hide the little pink patch on my forehead. Plus, it’s usually really light. I hadn’t noticed the patch in years; maybe it was getting darker with age. Or maybe I was just over heated. Oh well. I’d live.

Alan was snoring, poor guy—he really was tired. Hum… I should take a little afternoon nap myself. But I felt restless, not sleepy. Nothing made any sense today.

I quietly slipped on a t-shirt and some old sweats and headed downstairs. Grabbing my laptop and another Yuengling from the kitchen, I settled into my favorite chair in our sunroom. A feeling of peace always surrounds me in this room. Added on for my great-grandmother, Evangeline, who liked to grow her own herbs, it’s sort of like a greenhouse and sunroom put together. I checked my email and then surfed the web, hoping to find some explanations for my blackout.

Then I remembered the name the strange man had called me. It sounded like “Kadesh goddess.” I typed it into the search engine and got a zillion hits on “Qadesh, an Egyptian Goddess.” Could his accent have been Egyptian?

According to most of the web sites, Qadesh was indeed a female goddess in ancient
Egypt
. One site had a picture of a nude female standing on a lioness, holding a snake and a dagger. Cool.

But then I froze as I read, “symbolizing sexual pleasure, sacred ecstasy, and fertility” and then, skimming, I saw, “form of worship—sacred sex....” Crap! How did I get mixed up with this whack job who thinks I’m some sort of Egyptian goddess?

Disgusted and oddly anxious, I turned off the computer and decided to check in with Ottie and see how the Janeck case was going. I looked for my phone on the table beside me and then remembered that I didn’t have a phone anymore, so I headed to the kitchen to get the old portable. Ottie picked up on the third ring.

“It’s your dime,” Ottie broke the silence with his odd greeting.

“Ya know it costs fifty cents to make a phone call now, right? That’s if you can find a pay phone.”

“Hey, Lexie. How you feelin?”

“Great, actually, but I’m pissed that I can’t remember what happened. And, oh yeah, guess what else is missing….that red wig I love. That bastard must have ripped it right off my head. I’ve got the scabs to prove it.”

“Man—that sucks! But, remember, you’re fine. That’s what matters.”