A Cold Day In Hell. Stella Cameron

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      “I think we’ve said enough,” he told her without inflection.

      “Poor Sonny. I don’t know why he isn’t a worse mess. No wonder he acts so surly and bitter.”

      Again he was silent.

      She held his wrist on the table. “Thank you for being honest. It helps to know what’s going on…or could be.”

      “Not necessarily. If you weren’t involved, I’d never reveal any of this to you. But you are in a way and you need to be too scared to open your mouth about anything. You don’t know anything about Sonny, right?”

      “I understand.” Like this, he was scary. “I’ll do anything I can to help. And you’ll never have to wonder if I’ve said anything to anyone or if I might for some reason. Nothing could get it out of me.”

      “Good,” Angel said, looking at her hand on his arm, “because I can sense things, like when someone is wavering. I’d know if you were thinking about running your mouth off to someone.”

      “I never would. Angel?” Her heart thumped. “I really wouldn’t.”

      “Good. Because if I got that feeling, I’d have to kill you.”

      10

      No man’s eyes should look that cold.

      Eileen noticed the lines that flared from the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines? She pictured him squinting into the sun through dark glasses, a gun in his hand.

      “That was a joke,” he said. “A bad one.”

      Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t. She stood so quickly, her chair screeched on the wood floor. “Thanks for the wine.”

      “Eileen.” He got up, too, and she was aware of how big he was. Fear and intense excitement mounted her spine.

      “I’ve stayed too long,” she told him. “Aaron will wonder where I am.”

      Angel walked behind her and she held her ground with difficulty. “You never have to be afraid of me,” he said.

      “I’m not.”

      “Yes, you are. I can smell it. Men like me have a particular relationship with fear.”

      And with danger…and violence.

      “I know you’ve had a hard life,” she said.

      “I chose it.” He didn’t even pretend to smile now. “Aaron isn’t worrying about where you are. Both of them know you’re with me.”

      She colored. “I shouldn’t be any longer.”

      “Why? Because they might think we’re doing more than driving to my place and sharing a drink, maybe?”

      Eileen laughed nervously. “No, of course not. I’m pretty tired. All the hocus-pocus in the swamp must have worn me out. I’m so grateful Aaron’s okay.”

      He moved again and this time he stood behind her right shoulder where she could almost, but not quite, see him. She could feel him, hear him breathing.

      Eileen stood straighter. She wished she wore high heels because they brought her closer to his height and she felt more powerful then. “Let me wash these glasses out for you.” She reached for them but Angel’s hand on the back of her neck immobilized her.

      “Forget the glasses. You’re scared and I don’t like that. Not when I’m the one you’re scared of.”

      “I’m not.”

      As long as she stayed with her back to him she would appear nervous. She faced him. His hand slid from her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm. He circled her wrist and stroked the tender inside skin there.

      The lightning climbed her back again, matched by the same feeling low in her belly, between her legs. Was she that kind of woman? The kind who got sexually excited by fear? She ran the fingers of her free hand across her brow and they came away damp.

      “It’s probably not a good idea to call voodoo hocus-pocus in these parts.”

      She raised her chin. “I’ve lived here all my life. I know to be careful what I say about those things in some circumstances. These aren’t those circumstances.”

      “Did you look at Aaron’s body?”

      “He wouldn’t let me. You know how boys are.”

      He grinned. “Only until they grow up and the women they’re with aren’t their mothers.”

      She had to smile. “I guess you’re right. I don’t suppose Aaron counts as a boy anymore, either.”

      “I’ve made more progress in the house. Let me show you.”

      She couldn’t bring herself to repeat that she ought to get back. “I’d like that.”

      Still holding her wrist, he took her to the far side of the room where an archway was framed into a wall. Once on the other side, with the unfinished conservatory to their right, he headed directly for the stairs and climbed. Eileen went behind him, every heartbeat feeling bigger and harder.

      “What do you think of Chuzah?” she asked. “I don’t know whether to accept that he was kind to the boys, or be terrified of him. That dog is strange.”

      “A shape-shifter?” Angel said, and chuckled. “That was a strange comment you made. He’s a great dog. It’s the breed. Silver ghosts.”

      “He looked like a ghost when he moved through the fog,” Eileen said.

      “Maybe he is. Maybe Chuzah is, too. He surely doesn’t fit any profile I’ve encountered before.”

      She paused, frowning.

      Angel stopped a couple of stairs above her. “Eileen, something’s going on. Something happened in that swamp. Sonny said Aaron was bleeding—a lot—and he had blood on his own clothes. But there wasn’t any coming from Aaron when we got there.”

      “Don’t. Aaron’s fine.”

      “Chuzah said he threw Aaron’s clothes away because they were such a mess. That doesn’t sound unreasonable to you?”

      Eileen thought exactly that. “The man’s unusual.”

      “That’s enough for you?” Angel said.

      “I’m trying to make it enough.”

      He produced his cell phone and pressed a button. Almost at once he said, “You guys okay? Uh-huh. No calls before this one? Good. We’re taking things a bit easy. It’s good to get away from you two now and again.”

      Eileen suppressed a smile and shook her head.

      “Okay,” Angel said. “Stick with the instructions. See you СКАЧАТЬ