Not Quite an Angel (14 page)

He finally wangled them jobs painting an old wreck of a sailboat for a lawyer to whom both he and Bernie had steered business in the past.

They'd been with him fourteen endless days the afternoon he phoned home to announce that a place had been found for both of them at a rehab center they'd visited with Sameh—a place they'd said they'd like to stay.

They could move in the following afternoon, and Adam was all too willing to help them pack and drive them there. Bernie had pulled in favors from friends he'd made as a detective on the LAPD to get the boys accepted at Phoenix Ranch. It was one of the area's few long-term facilities, acclaimed as the best around, with programs for job training and life skills, and a staff trained to deal with the special problems of street kids.

Cougar sounded ecstatic on the phone, and Adam heard Troy giving a war whoop in the background. But when Adam arrived home a short time later, the house was empty, the boys' backpacks and all their belongings gone. A quick search showed that Adam's portable radio-CD player was also missing, along with the contents of his liquor cabinet and a small, elaborately carved knife in a sheath that he'd brought back from Bangkok.

That was all, however. His gold cuff links, his camera, his coin collection and other items of value were untouched.
The boys had even washed their breakfast dishes and stacked them carefully in the drainer, the way Adam had taught them.

Adam's fury and his steady stream of curses gave way to a feeling of utter dejection. He flung himself onto the sofa, stained from the wet bathing suits the boys had left there overnight, and against his will snippets of conversations he'd had with them came back in vivid detail.

They'd asked if, as a detective, he'd ever shot anyone. He'd said no, and Troy remarked casually, “A girl we know got shot. She kept back money from her pimp. She was, like, giving it to her boyfriend for drugs? We saw him do it. Her brains flew everywhere.”

Adam had gone into the bedroom to awaken them the first morning, and found Cougar sleeping on the floor in a tangle of blankets. “The bed's too soft,” Cougar had grumbled. “Usually I sleep under parked cars and things.”

He'd replaced Troy's broken glasses with a new set, and later that week he'd bought them each several new sets of clothes—jeans and T-shirts, jackets, socks, underwear, running shoes. They'd eyed the garments with suspicion, afraid to touch them. “What's with you, man? You gotta want somethin' major from us. Nobody does somethin' like this fer nothin', not for guys like us.”

Troy added in wistful voice, “Except maybe that Sameh. She's one special lady. She's your woman, huh, Adam?”

“Yeah, she's my woman.” It had felt good to say it, even if it wasn't true.

“I bet if she had kids, she'd hardly ever hit them much at all,” Cougar remarked.

 

S
AMEH CAME WITH HIM
that evening, and the next, and the next, to search for the boys. Troy had described for Adam some of the places where he and Cougar “hung out,” and
Adam drove slowly through the downtown streets of L.A., watching for them.

Some of the areas he drove through were far too dangerous to even stop in, but wherever possible he parked and he and Sameh walked the streets, asking the young people they met if anyone knew where Cougar and Troy might be. Some of the youngsters they talked to stared at them with resentment and suspicion, refusing to answer their questions, but others seemed willing to talk. They insisted, however, that they hadn't seen either Cougar or Troy recently.

“If you do, tell them I'm not mad at them. Tell them to call me collect and I'll come and get them,” Adam repeated over and over. The amazing thing was, he meant every word.

He didn't tell Sameh that, sick with apprehension, he'd also checked all the hospitals and morgues, as well. Thankfully no young boys matched the descriptions Adam provided.

The third evening, he was driving slowly down a dilapidated side street at dusk, when a car shot past him, swerving as it careered around a corner and disappeared. As he rounded the corner behind it, Adam and Sameh saw a child crouched over a small dog at the side of the road, halfway down the block. Obviously the speeding car had struck the animal and not bothered to stop.

Adam pulled over to the curb, and he and Sameh hurried over to the little girl. She looked about ten, and she was crying so hard she could hardly talk. “…car…hit…Tinker.” She gulped and swiped at her nose with a dirty fist. “Is…he…gonna die?”

The dog was making a terrible noise, agonized cries of extreme pain, and when Adam knelt beside the animal to take a closer look, he knew at once there wasn't any hope.
The little dog was twisted and broken. The sooner the end came, the better.

Sameh touched the child's dark curly hair and then laid her hand on the dog's blood-caked fur. She gave Adam an imploring look. “Could you take—” She turned to the child. “What's your name, love?”

“Mar-Marlene,” the girl gulped.

“Do you live near here?”

The girl nodded. “Right over there.” She pointed to a ramshackle blue house with a wire fence directly across the street.

“Adam, please take Marlene home so she can get her mother or father to come help with her dog. I'll stay here with Tinker until you get back.”

The child hesitated, crying harder than ever. Sameh smiled at her, a reassuring smile. “I'll stay right beside Tinker till you come back, I promise,” she said again. “This is my friend Adam. He'll walk you home.”

It was a good tactic, Adam realized. There was no point in the child seeing the animal draw its last painful breaths, but even though it was a residential neighborhood of sorts, it was rough, and he didn't like to leave Sameh alone here for even five minutes. But neither did he want to send her into a strange house alone.

“Please, Adam?” Sameh's voice was filled with both urgency and entreaty.

With Marlene's hand in his, he headed for the blue house.

 

T
HE MOMENT THEY WERE GONE
, Sameh closed her eyes and concentrated on drawing energy into her hands. When she felt the familiar tingle, she used a cupping motion over the small dog to ease its pain and begin to repair its injuries. She had to work quickly, because she could see the animal's life force beginning to fade.

Animals are easy to heal,
she remembered her instructor saying.
Animals don't have the same resistance humans have. They understand unconditional love, and they accept what we do for them without qualification or expectation.

Sameh felt quite confident, because the only consistent success she'd ever experienced as a healer was in the practice sessions she'd had with sick animals. For some reason, her insecurities disappeared when her patients weren't human.

The healing energy flowed effortlessly from her palms. Tinker lay still and silent now, his liquid brown eyes fixed on Sameh.

 

M
ARLENE'S MOTHER WAS
very pregnant. Adam, worried that she'd fall, took her arm as she hurried down the rickety steps at the front of the house.

“How many times I told you not to step foot outa this house without your big brother, child? Coulda been you that car hit, never mind Tinker.” Her shrill voice was harsh, but she hugged her sobbing daughter to her side as they hurried across the deserted street to Sameh.

It was growing dark, and though it was hard to see clearly, Adam realized that Sameh had lifted the little dog into her lap and was stroking its head. She looked up as they neared, and smiled at them.

At that moment, Marlene broke away from her mother's grasp and let out a delighted shriek. “Tinker, you're better!” She bent to catch the small animal as it launched itself out of Sameh's lap and into Marlene's arms. “Tinker, good dog, good dog. Look, Momma, he's not hurt at all.”

“Looks like he ain't hardly got a scratch, praise the Lord. You come along home now, and let this be a lesson to you,” Marlene's mother was saying.

There were copious bloodstains on the dog's fur, and on
Sameh's jeans and shirt, but if the animal had any serious injuries, they didn't show. Tinker wiggled his ridiculous stump of a tail and gave a short, sharp bark, standing on his hind legs to lick Marlene's face.

Adam couldn't move. He stood on the sidewalk, gaping at the dog. He knew he hadn't been mistaken about the severity of the injuries the animal had sustained. He'd seen the broken bones, the twisted body. The dog had been all but dead.

Slowly, with an ominous feeling in his gut, he turned his head and looked at Sameh.

S
AMEH WAS ON HER FEET NOW
, dusting off her jeans and smiling at Marlene as the girl picked up the little animal and cradled it in her arms.

“Thank you folks for stopping,” the mother said. “I guess it musta looked lots worse than it really was, thank God. Good night to you now.” She took Marlene's arm and waddled back across the street.

Adam moved over to Sameh and took hold of her upper arms. He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. Who was she, what strange powers did she have? Where had she learned them?

When he'd gained control of his voice, he said, “What in bloody blue blazes did you do to that dog, Sameh? It was all but dead. I figured it'd be gone by the time we got back. It looked to me as if its back was broken.”

She looked up at him, radiant. “I just helped him heal himself. Wasn't it great that it worked, Adam? I used to do it sometimes on the agrofarm with animals, and even with plants.”

Adam's hands were trembling. He wanted to ask her a million questions, he wanted some simple, logical explanations for— He had to swallow hard against the tightness in his throat. Was healing a little dog classed as a miracle?

With a ragged, wordless exclamation, he drew her into his arms, needing the reassurance of her body, warm and soft against him. He needed the earthiness of Sameh to re
mind him that she was only a woman, only flesh and blood, a flawed and beautiful and human female person.

Not an angel, or a devil, or a witch.

A woman. A woman he didn't begin to understand, but one whom he wanted more intensely than he'd ever imagined it was possible to want.

She gave a huge sigh. “I try so hard to use the same techniques on people, Adam, but it just never works the way it's supposed to.” She sounded tired, forlorn all of a sudden, the euphoria gone from her voice, her body slumping, heavy in his arms, her head resting on his chest. “I'm always petrified when I try to use it on people, scared that it isn't going to work or that I'll make the problem worse instead of better. Or even that it'll work for a little while, like it did with Cougar, and then they'll get sick again and feel worse off than ever because I gave them false hope.” She shuddered. “That's truly terrible.”

After a moment, she made a sad sound meant to be a laugh. “And of course when I get scared, then I can't do it at all. Nothing works right.”

She wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him. He was keenly aware of her breasts pressing against his chest, her long thighs molded to him. His body reacted the way it always did to her nearness—with a jolt of intense and painful desire. But he knew that for Sameh, the embrace wasn't sexual; he was aware that she needed only the simple security of his arms right now.

He held her gently and cradled her head with a hand threaded through her silky curls, aware of the vulnerability of her soft neck under his fingers, and both the lean strength and softness of her warm body.

“I've tried all day to use clairvoyance to find out where Cougar and Troy might be, but I can't see them, Adam.” She sounded frustrated, frantic, angry with herself, all her
doubts exposed for him to see. “I should be able to locate them—I have the techniques, but I just don't have the talent. And what's the use of knowing how if I can't make them work?”

Her voice broke in a sob and he felt her hot tears soaking into his thin shirt. He patted her back, at a loss how to comfort her.

She cried for a while and then drew in a shaky breath and wailed, “I'm such a failure, Adam.” She sniffed, and sniffed again. “I'm horribly worried about Cougar and Troy. And I finally had an opportunity today to tell Delilah about my research, about why I'm working for her and the importance of what she's doing for future generations. It was almost as if she didn't really hear me, or care. Or maybe she just didn't believe me, which is even worse. There's such a cloud of confusion around her I can't see exactly what's the matter with her. I only know it has something to do with Tyrone. She won't talk to me about it, and Violet's being as hateful as ever. There's something out-and-out evil about that Violet. I can't find a single thing about that woman to like, even though, as Kendra would say, she's just a person like me with problems she's having trouble working through.”

She sniffled again. “My nose is running. I need a tissue. I never ever have a tissue when I need one. And I have to go to the bathroom. I need a shower, too. I'm filthy, my hands are all sticky from blood, and I smell like dog.”

He hid the relieved smile that her rush of rebellious misery inspired. This was just Sameh, clumsy, lovely, madcap Sameh, tired and sad and worried about everyone, disorganized as hell, beautiful enough to make a man forget his own name. Exhausted, troubled, she was turning to him for support.

God, he wanted to protect her. He wanted to shelter her,
keep her safe from her own insecurities, act as a buffer between her and a world that would exploit her innocence and trust.

“Let's get back to the car,” he said in a gruff voice. “We'll get out of this neighborhood and find a gas station where you can use the washroom and clean up a bit.” She nodded agreement, swiping at her runny nose with the back of her hand. He slid an arm around her waist, encouraging her to lean on him, adjusting his stride to hers and keeping a wary eye on the darkening streets as they made their way back to the car. He'd had enough excitement for one evening without having to fight off a mugger into the bargain.

When he was once again on familiar ground, he pulled into a service station. Sameh hurried to the rest room. When she got back into the car, Adam started the engine and then paused and looked over at her before he pulled into traffic. It wasn't all that late, nine-forty on the dashboard clock. “Want something to eat? Or do you want me to take you back to Delilah's?”

She frowned and shook her head. In a small, tentative voice, she said, “Could we maybe go to your house for a while, Adam?”

He must have looked as astounded as he felt. “Sure,” he managed. “Great. I'd like that.”

She seemed to feel the need to explain. “It's lonely at Delilah's. I stay in my room to avoid Violet. I usually work on my notes and research, but tonight I really don't feel like being alone.” She gave him a troubled look, her forehead puckered with anxiety. “You don't mind if I come over, just for an hour or so? I should get to bed early—I promised I'd baby-sit Corey and Kate tomorrow night. It's Frances and Bernie's anniversary.”

“Come for a year if you want,” he teased, wanting to make her smile.
Or better yet, come for a lifetime.
The
thought flitted through his head, and like a hammer blow, it struck him that he meant it.

He'd never before dreamed of asking a woman to stay with him for any length of time. He'd always been greedy to bed them and then eager to have them get up and go home. He'd often devised elaborate schemes to drive them away and never once missed them when his strategies worked.

In the soft glow of the streetlights, he looked at Sameh, trying to decipher what it was that was different about her from the other women he'd known—besides her refusal to make love with him and her bizarre talent for helping strays and bringing half-dead dogs back to life.

She'd scrubbed her face clean and brushed her hair in the washroom. Her clothes were still grimy, her bare feet in their strappy sandals were downright filthy, and yet she was beautiful, not in the pampered, carefully made-up fashion of the countless women who'd shared his passion over the years, but in a guileless, straightforward way.

It wasn't just her looks that attracted him, however. It was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on just yet. He'd figure it out in time. For now, there was the simple pleasure of having her with him for another few hours.

Adam reached across to take her hand in his. He gave it a comforting squeeze and rested their linked hands on his jean-covered thigh, humming under his breath and steering with easy assurance in the direction of home.

 

N
OW THAT SHE'D SET
the stage, Sameh was nervous. The decision to physically join with Adam had started to take form a long while before now, on a day when she was copying down Delilah's dictation for a chapter in her new book.

The chapter dealt with time, with living fully and even recklessly in each moment of time without wasting energy in fearful wondering about what was to come. As always, Delilah was drawing from her own rich experiences to illustrate her beliefs. Her willingness to share intimate aspects of her own fascinating life was a large part of the success of her books, and she was describing in detail for her readers a tempestuous love affair she'd had some years before, a love affair with a fascinating diplomat, which had ended with him returning to his wife and children in Russia.

She'd winked at Sameh during one of her vivid descriptions of sexual passion and remarked, “It's a lucky thing Tyrone never reads any of my books, huh?” She thought for a moment and added with a rueful twist of her mouth, “Or maybe it's a shame he doesn't. Maybe a good dose of jealousy would do him good once in a while.”

Sameh hadn't commented. The relationship between Delilah and Tyrone troubled her, but it wasn't her role to lecture her employer. After a quiet moment or two, Delilah had sighed and then gone on dictating. “I never regretted that love,” she'd said in a slow, certain voice, “even though it came near to destroying me. As I grow older, I find the only real regrets I have are for the things I
didn't
do along the way.”

Her words stuck in Sameh's brain, and late that night she finally admitted to herself that she understood exactly what Delilah meant. When the time came to return to her own era, would she regret not having explored the physical desire that sparked between her and Adam like electricity?

In her attempts at retrocognition, she'd managed to examine two of her past lives in detail, and she knew that sexual excess had played a major part in the wasting of those lives. In one, she'd been professionally promiscuous. She'd been absolutely zealous about physical joining, and
some of the sexual details still made her blush when she recalled them.

So maybe that was why she'd gone overboard in this life in her desire to progress spiritually and avoid such excesses—or could it be that a man hadn't come along till now to tempt her the way Adam did?

In her own age, because of the extended life spans, there was none of the urgency she sensed here—the feeling that one's life went all too quickly and one should snatch at happiness when it presented itself. Her own era was more relaxed, she decided. But it wasn't half as exciting, half as vital as the nineties were. And the longer she stayed here, the more she found herself absorbing the customs and the attitudes, reacting to the tumultuous emotions that swept over her.

And the longer she was around Adam, the more she found herself wanting him. She ached and burned at his casual touches, and during the long nights she fantasized about having him make physical love to her.

Ironically, for the past several weeks he'd stuck with dogged determination to the boundaries she'd drawn for their relationship, while she'd begun to wonder, feeling unreasonably exasperated with him, if he was ever going to really kiss her again. Her damned fantasies were all too vivid because of those wretched retrocognitive memories.

Tonight, all her defenses were down. She was emotionally battered by the disappearance of Troy and Cougar, physically tired from evenings spent searching for them, drained from the effort necessary to revive Tinker, and more than anything she longed for the comfort of Adam's arms, the sensual oblivion that she knew would come with his lovemaking.

Tonight was the right time to turn fantasy into reality…if
only she could get Adam to stop acting like such a perfect gentleman.

 

T
HE BEACH HOUSE WAS DARK
when they pulled into the driveway, and it was only then that Adam realized how much he'd been hoping for lights, for loud music, for the chaos that would have signalled the return of Troy and Cougar. He was grateful for Sameh's warm hand, clasped tightly in his, as he climbed the steps and opened the door to an empty house.

The night was windy, the nearby ocean restless. Adam had left windows open, and the small house was cool and welcoming after the heat of the day. He walked over to the desk and turned on a small lamp, and when he looked back at her, Sameh was still standing where he'd left her, just inside the door. She'd slipped off her sandals and was looking down at her feet and frowning.

“I'm dirty, Adam. Do you think I could have a shower?”

“Sure. I'll find you clean towels.” He hurried down the hall to check on the state of the bathroom, aware that she was padding along close behind him.

The bathroom wasn't too bad, considering. He stuffed several dirty towels and some underwear into the hamper, used a washcloth to wipe out the sink, and then rummaged through the cupboard for towels, thrusting them at her and making a hasty exit.

Back in the kitchen, he heard the shower start. His graphic mental picture of her standing naked in his shower was delightful, but not very comfortable. It was tough to have her in his bathroom, in his shower. He went to the liquor cabinet, intending to have a quick drink of Scotch to bolster his good intentions, and then remembered it was empty. Feeling sorry for himself, he thought that the damn
kids could have at least left him one half-empty bottle for emergencies.

Muttering under his breath, he went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. Maybe Sameh would want tea. He opened the cupboard door and started a rambling search for anything that resembled a tea bag.

The shower stopped after what seemed a long time, and he heard the bathroom door open, then the patter of light footsteps. He turned around. She was standing in the doorway, wrapped in his navy blue towel. Her hair was wet and rumpled, her skin was rosy and a great deal of it was bare, except for the strategic areas the towel almost covered.