Twilight. Sherryl Woods

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СКАЧАТЬ Rick had to give her that. She was the kind of smart-mouthed handful who’d drive a man crazy. He wished he could get a better look at her to see if she’d be worth the trouble, but the lighting in the hallway was virtually nonexistent. The only thing he knew for sure was that she wasn’t local. She had no accent. All of the girls in this neighborhood—and some of them were indeed tough as nails—were Latinas.

      Based on her shape, though, this one definitely had promise. His own body had picked up on that without his brain even having to kick in. Another couple of minutes of close contact and he’d be dangerously aroused. Hell, he was already aroused. For a man who’d vehemently sworn to remain celibate through all eternity after his very brief and ill-advised marriage had gone sour, it was a troubling turn of events. He’d better settle this nonsense in a hurry and extricate himself from a dangerous situation.

      “Let me assure you, doll face, I belong here,” he said. “I run the place.”

      The announcement had an odd effect on her. Though she’d remained relatively still since he’d taken her captive, it now seemed that the remaining breath whooshed right out of her. She was utterly and absolutely motionless. That didn’t strike Rick as a good sign.

      “Doll face?”

      “You’re Rick Sanchez?” she asked in a broken whisper.

      Rick couldn’t tell if her voice was choked by tears or was shaking with some inexplicable anger, but he definitely got the feeling she knew a whole lot more about Yo, Amigo than he’d assumed. He also realized that he was the very last person she’d expected to encounter here tonight.

      “That’s me,” he told her. “Which leaves us with you. Who are you, doll face?”

      Several seconds ticked by before she answered.

      “I’m Dana Miller.”

      She said it in a tone so stiff and cold that it sent goose bumps chasing over Rick’s body. Dismay slammed through him as the name registered. Ken’s wife? Dear God in heaven, he’d tackled Ken’s wife as though she were a common criminal. Which, of course, at the moment she appeared to be, but that was beside the point.

      He released her wrists at once and leaped to his feet, holding out his hand to help her up. She ignored it and rose with a grace and dignity that belied the situation.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to convey a month’s worth of emotions in those two simple words. “For everything. For Ken. For just now.”

      “Save it,” she said harshly. “Save it for someone who’ll buy your phony sympathy.”

      Anger radiated from her in almost palpable waves. Rick had known she blamed him for Ken’s death. A half-dozen people had told him exactly how bitter she was toward him and Yo, Amigo. In fact, he had stayed away from the funeral for that very reason, out of consideration for her feelings, justified or not. He’d figured Ken’s graveside was no place to force a confrontation. Later he’d tried to see her, but she’d been gone, off in Florida to recover from the tragedy, her best friend had told him.

      Now he realized that he should have seen her sooner, should have gone at once to offer his condolences, to explain how deeply he, too, was grieving over the death of her husband. He doubted she would have believed him any more then than she did now, but he knew how wounds could fester unless they were cleansed right away. This soul-deep wound was no different than one to the flesh. It had had more than a month to worsen dangerously.

      Ironically, he had anticipated that sooner or later, she might come after him. He just hadn’t expected it to be in the middle of the night.

      Gazing into her bleak expression, he tried to tell her now what he would have said weeks ago, if he’d had the opportunity.

      “Your husband was the best friend—”

      He never got to finish the sentence. Her open hand connected with his face in a stinging slap that rocked him on his heels.

      “Don’t you dare say that,” she said. “Don’t you dare.”

      Rick fell silent, uncertain how to cope with such anguish and outrage. Used to coping with broken teenaged dreams with words and hugs and timeworn platitudes, he could think of nothing that would touch Dana Miller’s hurt, or calm her fury. Obviously, she needed to lash out at someone and she’d picked him.

      Since the topics of Ken Miller and his death were clearly off-limits, despite their obvious connection to tonight’s break-in, he decided to focus on why Dana Miller was at Yo, Amigo headquarters in the middle of the night. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out.

      “You expected to find answers here, didn’t you?” he asked softly.

      The direct question seemed to surprise her. Her gaze clashed with his. “It’s the obvious place to start.”

      “The police thought so, too,” he reminded her. “They’ve searched through every file, talked with every one of the kids who comes here regularly, questioned every potential eyewitness. They’ve almost destroyed the program in the process.” He regarded her defiantly. “I won’t let you start the whole thing all over again.”

      “You don’t have a choice in the matter,” she told him coldly. “I will do whatever I have to do to find Ken’s murderer. You can’t stop me.”

      He found her resolve chilling, but it bolstered his own commitment to salvage Yo, Amigo, at any cost. “Oh, but I can. These kids need a safe haven. They need one person who believes in them. That’s me. They had Ken, too, but he’s gone now.”

      “Because of you,” she accused bitterly.

      “Not because of me or these kids,” Rick insisted. “I’d stake my life on that.”

      “Then you’re a blind fool,” she said. “He was here, in this neighborhood, because of you. Week after week, he risked his life by coming here. Eventually the odds caught up with him.” That said, she turned her back on him and headed for the door.

      Rick couldn’t let her go, not like this. “Dana?”

      Her determined footsteps faltered, but she didn’t look back.

      “I will do anything to help you find Ken’s killer, but I will not let you destroy Yo, Amigo. There’s too much at stake.”

      “You can’t stop me,” she said again.

      “I’ll report what happened here tonight, if I have to,” he said, catching her attention. Her eyes blazed when she turned to face him. He went on with his warning, hoping to scare some sense into her. “I will let the police know that you’re on a vigilante’s mission. They’ll stop you.”

      She choked back what sounded like a sob, but her voice was steady when she said, “Do what you have to do, Mr. Sanchez. And I will do what I have to do.”

      Before he could think of anything to say to that, she slipped out into the night and vanished even more quietly than she had arrived.

      More shaken than he’d ever been by an encounter with a rival gang, Rick sighed at her leaving. She was a handful, all right, everything Ken had ever described her as being.

      And he had a СКАЧАТЬ