Nobody's Angel (27 page)

That had several connotations but neither commented on them as he drove toward a small grassy space near the lake and away from the shopping center. Other people had had the same idea, and several office workers strolled the path, dipping into their lunch bags as they walked, or finding seats in the grass. The September sun still shone brightly, but a cool front had chased away the heavy humidity.

“What will you do if we don't find the books?” Faith knew she shouldn't ask, but his problems took away from her own.

He sprawled in the grass, unconcerned about his jeans or white dress shirt. “I can't even go into law enforcement unless I clear my record. The only things I know are law and pottery. And wrestling.”

“Wrestling?” Faith licked mayonnaise off her fingers and studied him dubiously. Professional wrestling was a popular entertainment here, but she had difficulty imagining Adrian in spangled tights.

He shrugged and finished chewing. “Good money to put on a show. Figured law was half acting anyway, and so's wrestling. Put myself through school that way.”

“Good heavens.” Stunned, Faith tried to see it, but she wasn't a wrestling fan. Her mind's eye conjured hunky bodies, flowing blond tresses, and outrageous costumes. She couldn't see lean, sleek, unadorned Adrian in a ring.

“Called me the Black Panther. I wore all black, and had to lose most of the time. Nothing I couldn't learn in a gym. It kept me in shape after hours in the law library.”

Faith shook her head in disbelief. “You're a natural in pinstriped suits and wingtips. You're making this up.”

“Ask my family sometime.” Finishing his sandwich, he
crumpled the lunch bag and tossed it toward a barrel container. It hit.

“You should have taken up basketball.” Brushing grass off her slacks, Faith dropped her empty cup in the trash.

“Don't get paid for college ball. I worked off a lot of energy with wrestling, but I think I'm a little too old for that now. We'll find the books.”

Grabbing her hand, Adrian pulled her toward the car, showing no sign of age diminishing his restless energy. After last night, Faith didn't object to the contact. She trusted him not to pounce on her until she was ready.

Ready? She shivered at the tangent her subconscious had taken. She'd never be ready.

“The next exit is the turnoff toward Sandra's trailer park,” she commented, examining the map and avoiding any more personal revelations. “Do you think she's moved back?”

“We could take a look.” Adrian wrinkled his brow in thought. “How dangerous could she be?”

“Never underestimate a woman,” Faith warned.

He snorted in agreement. “All right, let's just drive by, see how things look. It's always best to know where your enemies are.”

They traveled down a long country road in the opposite direction from the lake and its million dollar mansions, past farms, jungles of trees and kudzu, and an occasional shabby cottage. Twenty years ago the whole area around Charlotte had looked like this.

“Sandra's was the third house on the right. She had a play set for the kids in the backyard.” She couldn't hide the hitch in her voice as they approached a lane of shiny mobile homes.

They slowed down in time to watch a young boy emerge through the front door and run next door to a neighbor's.

“Could that be Tony's oldest?” Faith asked, trying to hide her wistfulness. She'd calculated the oldest would be about twelve now. If she and Tony had had children as soon as they were married, her child would be eleven. She didn't think she would ever make sense of what Tony had done. He'd had
children
when they married. He'd had a mistress, whom he never stopped seeing. She'd never comprehend it.

“I never saw them, so I don't know. The kid's hair is the same crummy brown as Tony's, that's all I can tell you.” Adrian hit the gas and turned around in a driveway down the road. “But Sandra's SUV isn't there.”

“She could have sold or rented the place, I suppose.” Faith sank into her seat and wondered what self-destructive devil had urged her to make this detour. She should be grateful she'd never had Tony's child. She never could have escaped if children had been involved.

“I have some friends who live out in this direction. I'll ask them to drive by occasionally, see if they ever see the Explorer there.” Dismissing Sandra, Adrian snapped on the radio.

They didn't say anything else as they drove back to the interstate and the next round of banks.

By mid-afternoon they were ready to admit defeat. They'd reached the last exit before the interstate stretched through miles of farmland, and they hadn't found a single bank with any knowledge of Tony's corporation.

“I told George I'd be there by six to rehearse,” Faith said tiredly, stretching her aching knee as far as the tiny car would allow.

“I don't suppose it would do any good to tell you it's dangerous for you to make public appearances.” Adrian glared at the heavy traffic blocking his access to the last bank on the list.

She figured it was only sheer bullheadedness that prevented him from simply turning around and going home. “I don't think your potter friend would be interested in paying me for my inept attempts to paint. And I refuse to rely on a man for my support. I'll earn my way, and singing is the easiest way I can make a quick buck.”

She could see the muscle jerk over his cheekbone and his fist grip the wheel tighter, but he didn't argue. “I'll take you there and pick you up.”

“That will cut into your time at the pottery. One of the band can see me home.”

“Just tell me what time you'll be done, or I can give you a phone number, and you can call me when you're ready to leave. I don't want anyone else knowing where we live.” He cut between two cars, hit the gas, and entered the parking lot, swinging into a parking space, shifting, and shutting off the engine in one swift motion.

He was trying to be reasonable. She'd try to do the same. She could vehemently deny any need for any man's help, insult his machismo, and protest—for the thousandth time— that she could take care of herself, or she could compromise. Deciding she wasn't half so independent as he liked to believe, she settled for compromise. She liked his concern for her welfare, even if it derived from his guilt in involving her.

“There's only this bank at this exit,” he said grimly as he climbed out. “What are the chances they even have safe deposit boxes?”

Faith shrugged, figuring the question was rhetorical. They'd have to go in and ask, no matter what they thought.

The bank's temperature sign flashed eighty as they dragged across the blacktopped parking lot and entered the air-conditioned coolness of the interior. At this hour on a Monday, the clerks were busy counting cash and tallying receipts. Customers were a nuisance.

A woman in gray gabardine eventually offered her services, took them back to the vault records, and scanned the index. Well, as the only bank in town, they apparently had deposit boxes, Faith decided. Lucky them.

“Yes, the Nicholls Corporation,” the woman acknowledged to Faith's total surprise. “The rent is paid through the end of this month. Do you have your keys?”

Heart in mouth, Faith couldn't say anything. Adrian produced the key ring. The woman nodded, and marched back to the vault.

Not even looking at Adrian, Faith followed on her heels, heart pounding a rapid ticktock in time with the huge bank
clock over the vault door. The last box had been empty. The last box had been conveniently located near home. This one was in the middle of nowhere. Could they really have found Tony's secret cache?

She waited patiently as the clerk opened a lock with her key, checked her ring for a similar key, and inserted it. It fit.

Adrian reached past her to lift the heavy box from its space, and the clerk guided them back to the viewing room, where she left them alone in a private cubicle. By this time Faith was holding her breath and suspected Adrian was holding his.

Setting the box down on the table, he cautiously turned the key until it clicked. Not glancing at her, he slid the drawer open.

“My God!” Faith exclaimed in a whisper as she stood at Adrian's side, staring at the same vision that held him captive.

“It's impossible to keep a few million dollars in a single box,” he said pragmatically, lifting out a crisp bundle of green. “If they're all fifties, stacked side by side like this, I doubt if there's fifty thousand.”

“No ledgers,” she whispered, still in awe of that much cash in one place.

“Computer disks,” he corrected. “Tony put the books on computer after you left.”

He sounded so cool and collected, as if they handled fifty thousand dollars every day of the week. “You can pay back some of the money,” she suggested. “Would that help?”

Removing his handkerchief from his back pocket, he wiped the bundle he'd touched, replaced it in the drawer, then using the handkerchief again, closed it and wiped the handle and the rest of the surface, before returning the keys to his pocket. “All this will do is convince the D.A. that you were in cahoots with me.” He carried the box back to the vault and slammed it into place. “You'd better pay the rent on this thing for another year so we have time to gather more evidence. If the bank opens it and sees all that cash, they'll have to report it.”

She couldn't believe this. They'd spent days hunting down Tony's cache, and they were walking off and leaving it behind. Instead of screaming in celebration, he treated it as if it were a contaminated nuclear device.

Adrian sat at the back of the barroom watching Faith rehearse and sipping the beer he'd brought in with him. The bar was closed on Mondays, but he figured he ought to take the edge off before he faced Faith with the latest development. Discovering the cash had been a mixed blessing in the face of recurring disaster.

Up on stage, Faith listened to the band leader, nodded her head, and waited for her opening cue as the guitarist started a new riff. She'd changed into a bright red T-shirt reading WARNING: I HAVE AN ATTITUDE AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT, and a pair of cutoff blue jeans that must have been molded to her shape. Adrian gave thanks to the powers that be that she'd had the sense to wear the shirt on the outside of the jeans so he didn't have to watch every little jiggle and bounce from here. He was almost certain he'd internally combust if he had to look much longer without touching.

As she sank into a slow, seductive song in a husky voice that hit him in the gut, he nearly crushed his beer can before he drank the contents. God, he wanted her so badly everything else became a murky haze in the back of his mind. Maybe he should send her to her parents in Mexico. He could assume she'd be safe from him there, at least.

She wouldn't go. If he'd learned nothing else about Faith Hope Nicholls these last days, he'd learned she didn't give up and she didn't give in.

He couldn't predict how she would react to more bad news. Instead of trying, he sat back, sipped his beer, and tried not to
let the hot poker in his pants dictate what they would do next. He had to be logical about this.

She knew he was out here, but she was studiously ignoring him this time instead of playing the part of siren. Still, the song shivered along his skin, digging in and not letting go.

He shouldn't torture himself like this, but he'd prepared a little surprise for her, and he waited to see if the band carried it out. She deserved a little compensation, some recognition that she was special, that today was special. He couldn't do much for her, but he had done what little he could.

As she lowered her voice to sob out the last notes of the song, the band broke into a crazed guitar rendition of “Happy Birthday.” She stopped in mid-note, stared blankly into the darkness outside the stage lights, then swerved around to look at the band. Adrian got up from the table and sauntered forward as one of the stagehands entered carrying a huge chocolate cake covered with flaming candles. They'd probably broken every safety rule in the book and would set off fire alarms in a minute, but it was worth it just to see Faith's face.

She looked startled, as if uncertain the band's impromptu outburst into song was for her. Her jaw literally dropped at sight of the cake. Adrian grinned as her eyes widened and a smile of disbelief finally lit up her entire face. She was so beautiful, he could eat her instead of the cake. Something internal yearned to claim her as his, to pamper her like this forever, to give her a life of surprises just so he could see that look on her face over and over again.

He'd have to be satisfied with the accusing look she finally swung in his direction.

“You!” she shouted. “You told!”

He vaulted onto the stage in front of her. “Of course I did. How else could I claim the birthday kiss?” Without waiting for her to take that in, he caught her by the waist, hauled her against him, and covered her mouth with his as he'd been dying to do since the last time.

The band whooped and hollered, the music screamed into something suggestive, but Adrian knew nothing beyond the moist press of her mouth against his and the subtle powdery
scent mixing with the heat of Faith's skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered without a protest.