Nobody's Angel (24 page)

Belinda thought that highly unlikely. Adrian had a taste for
sophisticated women, and considering the one he'd brought home the other day, that taste hadn't changed. Faith might not be Hispanic like his other ladies, but she was definitely sophisticated. Belinda found it hard to believe that the woman on the other side of the door could be the menace who had driven Adrian off the road, though. She barely looked bright enough to drive.

She glanced to the street and noticed a red Ford Explorer, one that looked a little worse for wear. Adrian had said it was a pickup that hit them, not an SUV.

“Perhaps when he calls I can tell him you were asking after him. Would you like to leave your name and number?” Manners had been pummeled into her at an early age, and in this case they were convenient. Adrian would want to know who the visitor was.

“No, I'll find him. I want it to be a surprise.” Giving Belinda a dismissive look, she tottered back down the cracked walk on her high heels.

Some men preferred voluptuous, Belinda thought as she watched their unexpected visitor climb into the SUV. Jim certainly didn't mind her own less than svelte figure. But the leopard-woman carried “voluptuous” to the point of ridicule. No one could look like that naturally. Leopard-woman had spent a lot of time and money on that huge hair and those huge …

Okay, she was being catty. Carefully closing the door and locking it, she wondered who she could call to warn Adrian. Faith. She would start by calling Faith at Cesar's.

Dolores watched her with avid curiosity. “Who do you think that was?”

“Not anybody Adrian met in prison,” Belinda said decisively, reaching for the phone.

Faith wasn't in the apartment when Adrian arrived a little after nine.

Terror skyrocketed his blood pressure as he lowered the grocery sack to the kitchen counter. Where the hell could she be?

Had anything happened to her?

Fury met terror and both ripped through him at once. He'd damned well told her …

Racing to her bedroom, discovering no sign of disturbance other than clothes strewn across the bed, he tried to check his temper and think. Nothing could have happened to her here. She'd been perfectly safe behind locked doors. The damned woman had just taken it into her head to defy him.

He wanted to wring her neck for terrorizing him like this. He'd told her … He'd warned her …

Ah, hell. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, Adrian tried to accept his insanity for what it was. She'd said she could take care of herself. He didn't believe her, but there was only so much he could do. She'd made up her mind that she didn't need him or any man, and he sure as hell couldn't blame her.

He'd just have to get used to living in paralyzing terror.

Returning to the kitchenette, he tried to ignore the silence. No country music, no swinging posteriors, no sassy-mouthed blonde. He should be grateful for a chance to be alone.

He'd had four years of near solitude, enough to know he despised it.

Shoving a six-pack into the refrigerator, he leaned against the sink and tore ravenously into the sandwich he'd bought at the deli. He'd brought one for Faith, too, a fancy gourmet thing with bean sprouts and who-knew-what on it. He was hungry enough to eat both.

Was Faith hungry? She didn't have any cash.

Shit. She was a grown woman, as she'd told him repeatedly. He didn't have to worry about her as if she were Ines.

If he hadn't kidnapped her from her well-ordered life, she wouldn't be out on the street now, hungry and half dressed. This was his fault. He'd deal with it.

Throwing off his paint-stained shirt, rummaging through the duffel and vowing to find a Laundromat, Adrian ticked off a mental list of places Faith could have gone.

A neatly penciled page of telephone numbers beside the phone caught his eye as his head popped through his sport
shirt. He could use Cesar's laptop to check the directory.… One of the numbers had a check mark beside it.

Tucking the shirt in, Adrian picked up the phone and dialed. The open page of the newspaper's entertainment section confirmed his suspicions when the number connected with a local country dance bar.

The address to the bar wasn't far from there. She'd probably walked. He wouldn't have her walking back at night. Stupid female. Even suburbia wasn't safe late on a Saturday night, and this wasn't suburbia.

So much for his rational decision to let her spread her wings and fly. He slammed out in search of his runaway canary.

“Uh-oh.”

Faith slid off Belinda's high heels and rubbed her foot, glancing at Belinda as she did so. “Uh-oh?”

“Big brother cometh.” Belinda slid farther down in her seat behind the huge amplifier and tried to make herself small.

Faith ignored the tightening knot in her stomach. She'd agreed to help Adrian. She hadn't agreed to be his prisoner.

“The band's ready to cut to the last set. You on?” George, the lead singer, stepped to the side of the platform.

“I'm ready. And forget funny. Let's do this sexy.” Slipping on her shoes, Faith took George's hand and climbed back onto the stage.

George raised his eyebrows but didn't question her decision. Behind her, Belinda squeaked and covered her eyes. Adrian's sister had forgotten her fears about her strange visitor when Faith told her about this gig. Belinda had eagerly called in a neighbor to baby-sit and volunteered to bring clothes Faith could sing in. But, obviously, she hadn't expected her half brother to show up. Did the whole family fear the big bully?

As the band struck up the first chord of the duet, Faith searched the crowded room for Adrian, finding him without much effort. He'd propped an elbow on the bar not ten feet from the stage and was watching intently. She'd fry his
damned eyebrows off. That should teach him not to follow her around town.

She couldn't look real sexy with jeans covering her knees and a borrowed cowboy hat hiding the bandage on her forehead, but she figured given Adrian's current state of abstinence, it wouldn't take real sexy. She ought to be ashamed of herself. Instead, she felt confident and just a little bit wicked.

Adrian sipped his beer as he watched Faith's slender figure limp out on stage in jeans and a sparkly red vest. He glared at the polished and grinning male vocalist who accompanied her. He didn't like the way his palms got clammy and his heart skipped a beat, but he'd calm down in a minute or two. Just because his sexual frustration had fixated on a blond demon in heels didn't mean he had to act on it.

She opened on a sultry note that almost instantly quieted the loud chatter at the bar. Even though she completely ignored him, Adrian could feel every damned note strike and slide under his skin like daggers.

He gulped his beer as Faith turned big gray eyes up to her partner and crooned low notes that crawled right up Adrian's spine and mined a hole through his middle. He tried to remember she was just a stupid housewife who had believed Tony's lies for eight years. A woman like that would settle for anything in pants, and a smooth-talking snake like the singer would suffice. Maybe she wanted a little excitement in her life this time around, instead of Tony's security. Adrian knew he couldn't offer her either.

Sullenly, he turned his back to the stage. Let her have her fun. It wouldn't be at his expense.

The duet ended and she started on one of her lighthearted songs. A drunk at one of the tables offered a ribald commentary in accompaniment. Adrian wanted to smash his fist in the man's face and tell him to shut the hell up, but he didn't need any trouble with the law. He was simply here to see the stupid woman home.

Glancing around the darkened room, Adrian spotted a lawyer he'd gone to school with who studiously ignored him. If he stayed in Charlotte, he'd have to grow used to the slights.

Lawyers didn't like losers, and despite all its claims otherwise, Charlotte was still a small town. Everyone knew about him.

Even if he proved his innocence, there would be those who would sniff and claim where there was smoke, there was fire. It had been difficult enough for him to find a job after graduating from school. He had no family connections, no contacts, no money, and the color of his skin against him. He should have been suspicious when Tony offered him a position. He had been, but was too hungry to refuse.

He wouldn't have that opportunity again. He lifted his beer and tried not to dwell on it. As the guy in the movie said, a man had to do what a man had to do.

The drunk at the front table got louder. Adrian tried to ignore him, but he caught a hitch in Faith's voice as she sang, and he swung around.

The blamed moron was trying to climb up on stage. Where the hell was security? Better yet, where in hell was the pretty boy she'd been singing with?

Faith continued smiling and making love to the microphone. The drunk's friends tried to pull him back. Adrian still didn't see a sign of security.

Elbowing into the mob forming in front of the stage, Adrian cursed their passivity. Stupid sightseers. Didn't they have the sense to realize the drunk wasn't part of the show— although Faith damned well did her best to make it seem like it. She sent a taunting chorus in the drunk's direction, but the guy was too far gone to be insulted. He seemed to be fascinated with her red shoes.

Adrian saw the male vocalist easing into view, but it was too late. He was too mad to stop now.

Another step or two and he could reach the seat of the bas-tard's pants. He elbowed aside a giggling redhead holding a martini. Yuppie moron.

Before Adrian could extend his arm over the shoulder of the jerk in front of him, Faith surrendered her high heels, leaving them in reach of the pervert.

As the man lunged for his prize, Faith raised a small,
nylon-shod foot, and deliberately slammed him backward with the force of her heel.

Women screamed and men lurched aside as the drunk flailed, unbalanced, into his table, collapsing backward until his weight drove the table across the floor and straight into Adrian.

Faith continued singing, leaving her red shoes where she'd removed them as a dare to any other man drunk or stupid enough to reach for them.

Catching the table's edge, Adrian shoved it aside, leaving the drunk floundering like a beached whale. The damned woman had taken the breath out of his lungs but not the heat out of his temper.

Adrian's temper finally fizzled as he forced his way to stage right and discovered Belinda huddling behind the tower of amplifiers. She squealed and peeked up at him, then glanced at the stage as if seeking Faith's help. When his own sister was terrified of him, he'd gone too far.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked wearily, collapsing into a chair beside Belinda's. The amps vibrated so loudly, he didn't expect her to hear him. Faith had slipped into a song he recognized as her signature number, and he figured the set would be ending soon. He needed time to adjust to the image of porcelain-fragile Faith shoving a two-hundred-pound gorilla off the stage.

Belinda gestured helplessly and sipped her soft drink rather than reply. His sister had dark circles under her eyes and didn't look well. He didn't think Faith should be keeping her out at this hour.

The crowd roared its approval as Faith sang her last note, and the male vocalist thanked her and the rest of the group. The noise from the amps died, the spotlights switched to the dance floor and a DJ, but Belinda still didn't say a word. She rubbed the moisture off her cold glass and refused to look at him.

Slapping each other and laughing, ribbing Faith as they leaped and stumbled down the stairs, the band broke up as
they hit the main floor and drifted in different directions. Limping toward Belinda, Faith shook off any offers of assistance.

“I have to change and clean this goop off my face. I'll be back in a few minutes.” Barely acknowledging Adrian, she followed the band behind the stage.

The pretty boy vocalist didn't follow. Watching Adrian with amusement, he stuck out his hand. “George Olson. Friend of Faith's?”

“My brother, Adrian Raphael,” Belinda belatedly introduced them.

Without invitation, George straddled a chair. “Saw you riding to Faith's rescue. As you can see, she doesn't need help.”

“She shouldn't need help,” Adrian growled. “Where was security? She could have been hurt up there.”

“Security leaves us alone unless we signal for them.” George shrugged and regarded Adrian with unconcealed interest. “You don't know much about Faith, do you?”

“That's scarcely any of your business.” Feeling irritable, he just wanted out of there.

“Faith and I are old friends.” George pushed the subject mercilessly. “I lost my lead singer a few years ago, and Faith auditioned for the spot. She was terrible.”

Adrian scowled. A man would have to wear a bag over his head and beans in his ears to think Faith could come even close to terrible.

George leaned back in his chair and patted the rump of a beaming waitress. “Just lemon water, sugar. Have to save the voice.” The waitress scampered off, and he returned to nettling Adrian. “She was white as a sheet, combed her hair in a tight schoolmarm knot, wore this hideous long skirt, and lost notes every time anyone looked at her cross-eyed. But she wore those damned red boots …” He sighed reminiscently.

Adrian thought he might throttle the jerk. Belinda dug her fingers into his arm, and he realized how tense he was. This was stupid. He tried to relax and enjoy the story. He could see the uptight SouthPark matron Faith had been standing in front of a rowdy crowd looking like that. They'd howl her off
the stage. She must have been desperate. That had to have been right after she left Tony.

“Something about those red boots made me give her another chance. That, and I really needed a singer to keep that gig.” George shrugged deprecatingly. “Business wasn't all that hot back then. I thought she'd give us a little class if she could loosen up.”

“She looked plenty loose tonight,” Adrian said dryly.

George laughed. “She learns fast. First time a drunk came after her, she ran like a rabbit and fell off the stage. Made her mad. God, don't ever get that woman mad.”