Midnight Crusader Read online

  "I thought you might be hungry."

  Starved was more accurate.

  But looking from the unidentifiable figure standing near the closed drapes, still nothing more than a silhouette, to the bounty spread before her, all she could think of was the tiny little bellies of her children going to bed with nothing in them.

  "Go ahead,” he urged, as if hearing her internal conflict. “There'll be more for you to take back with you."

  She stood next to the dresser, popping squares of cheese and plump ripe strawberries while keeping a cautious eye on her host. He didn't move. Slowly, she relaxed enough to carry the bowl of soup to the edge of the bed where she spooned it up eagerly.

  "What happened to you, Charmaine?"

  She didn't think to wonder how he knew her name, nor did she need him to clarify his question.

  "I used to sing and dance in one of the big downtown casino shows. I married one of the pit managers, and he was a daddy to my little girls. Things was real good for a while.” Her voice took on a husky resonance as she stared into the bottom of the empty bowl. “Then one night when we was coming home from a trip to the canyon, just the two of us, some eighty-year-old man crossed the center line of the highway. My Josh was killed and my hip was broken. I'll never dance again. I sort of forgot what was important and took to drinking to numb all the pain I was feeling. I didn't have no money, no insurance, no nothing. Me and my babies found ourselves out on the streets.” She hitched in a ragged breath then toughened up once more. “I not asking for no sympathy or charity. I don't want my girls to see me beg to the government for help."

  "That would be worse than what they see every day?"

  She faced the shadowed figure, trembling with indignation and angry guilt. “Who are you to judge me and what I do?"

  A quiet chuckle. “A friend. Would you refuse the offer of a friend?"

  He placed the key to the room on the air conditioner beside him. She eyed it suspiciously.

  "The room's yours, paid through the week. A cab will take you to pick up your children in the morning and bring them back here. Three meals will be delivered every day for the four of you. The owner could use an attractive singer for the lounge. He'll audition you if you're interested."

  The sweep of a car's headlights arrowed through a slight part in the drapes. It wasn't much light, just enough to illuminate his face for the first time. For a long moment, Charmaine stared, mesmerized. He was beautiful ... young, pale, blond and, with his gaunt cheeks and soulful dark eyes, also somewhat sad. The Angel of Mercy, they called him, because those who stepped into his big, midnight-colored car never returned to the squalor of their existence. It was rumored he gave them the chance at a better life. Was this her chance? Perhaps her only one?

  Her heart pounded emotion up into her throat. She could hardly speak and struggled not to weep. But experience was a bitter teacher. She held her outpouring of relief in check. Turning to stare at her own reflection, she demanded, “What's the catch? What do you get out of all of this?"

  She was looking right into the mirror. That's why she was suddenly so surprised to hear his voice next to her ear where the image showed only empty space.

  "Nothing you'll miss."

  * * * *

  She had no intention of sleeping when she lay back on the big bed and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, Naomi discovered that three hours had passed since her new friend convinced her to rest.

  Amazingly, her first thought wasn't of work and the fact that she'd never made a call in.

  Had she missed Gabriel's visit?

  Alarmed, she scrambled out from under the comforter that someone had placed over her. Her sensible beige skirt and jacket were wrinkled beyond redemption, and a quick glance at the mirror showed her upswept hairdo hopelessly warped out of shape on one side. As she tried to pat it back into place, sounds from the other room reached her, the toneless humming of a Beatles tune and the cheerful drone of the hotel's in-house channel discussing its various amenities. She smelled coffee, strong and dark. That's what finally drew her out.

  "Have a nice nap?"

  Rita Davies smiled at her as she poured out two mugs of the rich, black brew. The wenching costume had been replaced by an aerodynamically designed bra top and baggy harem-style work out pants in a startling fuchsia.

  "Coffee?"

  "Please."

  As Rita moved across the room toward the couch where Naomi had taken a seat, Naomi couldn't help marveling at the fabric in the top that could hold such an overwhelming bounty in place without a single, eye-blackening bounce. She admitted to a moment of bosom envy when she, herself, wore a bra more for propriety's sake than from necessity.

  "Careful, it's hot."

  Heat was what she needed. A sudden, seeping chill began to spread through her bones, a cold more like death than overzealous air conditioning.

  What time was it? It was late. Very late. She shouldn't have come. She shouldn't have strayed from her routine.

  Wrapping her hands about the steaming mug, Naomi fought to still their trembling. Her sense of ease all but gone, she nervously sipped at the drink as pins and needles prickled over her skin. It grew more and more difficult for her to sit on the sofa pretending to enjoy a cup of coffee with a new friend when her insides were winding up tight as her internal clock told her it was time to go and go fast. Go. Go now. You can't be late. You must hurry. She took a big, purposeful gulp of the hot liquid to quiet that insistent voice, but she didn't think she could silence it for long. Gabriel ... She wanted to wait for Gabriel. She could resist a moment longer. For how ever long it took.

  But she knew that wasn't true. Already, anxiety quaked through her muscles in cramping restlessness. The coffee roiled in warning, pitching in her stomach as if in the midst of a storm. A dangerous storm once it started brewing. One she didn't care to be caught in.

  "I have to go."

  She put the cup down on the end table, sloshing the remaining contents over the sides and all over the faux wood finish. She gasped in dismay, but Rita brushed off her attempt to control the flow with the efficient blot of a wad of tissues and announced, “No harm done."

  But Naomi bounded off the cushions, bunched and wired to the point of quivering both in body and voice. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's late. I've got to go."

  A knock at the door interrupted her babbling. Rita's pronouncement of, “That must be Gabriel,” did little to calm Naomi's approaching hysteria. She stood, rooted to the spot, painfully aware of her crumpled appearance and rattled manner and of the urgent need to flee that still hammered through her.

  Gabriel.

  The thought of him caressed along her frayed and frazzled nerves, quieting them in an instant.

  "Rita?"

  The sound of his voice warmed her senses like a lover's sigh.

  "Gabriel, nice to finally meet you. Rae's told me things that had me imagining a cross between a Greek god and a superhero."

  "Not too big of a disappointment, I hope."

  "Not hardly."

  He stepped into the room, still grinning wide when his dark-eyed gaze touched upon Naomi's. The result was immediate combustion. Silence scorched the air, making it a long moment before either dared to breathe.

  "Hello again.” His greeting rumbled like a low grade earthquake.

  He'd been the stuff of dreams the first time they'd met—more ethereal rescuer than flesh and blood man. But here, now, in the suddenly too small hotel room, he was all too real, suddenly too hotly masculine and all too virile to be contained within the chaste embrace of her memories. She took a cautious step back even as her emotions goaded her to lean into the blaze of his sexuality if to do nothing more than be seared by his intense heat. She could feel the power and strength of him emanating in palpable waves. Before, when he'd come to her aid on the street, she'd been comforted, but here in this suffocating room, she felt intimidated. Instead of trust, there was confusion.

  He made no advance toward
her either in movement or conversation, as if he sensed her panic. Instead, he smiled faintly and turned his attention toward the less agitated Rita.

  "I just wanted to see if you'd settled in all right."

  "Just fine, thanks to you and the job here. You've been a lifesaver. Rae said that about you, too."

  His laugh was warm, managing to thaw some of Naomi's paralysis. “Rae exaggerates."

  "She didn't strike me as the type to sing praises without merit. I think I'll give her the benefit of the doubt."

  Then his focus returned to Naomi, and her legs got all wobbly to match the consistency of her stomach.

  "And how are you? No ill effects from the other night?"

  Rita's intuition honed in like a hawk's. “What happened?"

  "Someone tried to steal her purse on the street,” he mentioned casually, intent upon glossing over his own part in it.

  "And Gabriel stopped him."

  Naomi's breathy conclusion brought the shivery tension back between them.

  Being in the same room with her, so close it would take only a couple of steps to sweep her up in his arms, put an unbelievable pressure on Gabriel's self-control. All he had to do was reach out. He could have her now and for always. She would be his to love and protect as she should have been all those centuries ago. But at what cost? She didn't know him. In fact, he could sense her wariness, even her fear of him, for reasons he didn't understand. To act aggressively now could backfire, escalating those uncertain emotions to place an even greater barrier between them.

  No. She would have to be courted slowly, with gentleness and delicacy, just as he'd done with the shy, orphaned girl left in his family's care. It would take time, time that had always been in his favor but now seemed an enemy he couldn't control. If he pushed, she would run and perhaps he would never find her again.

  No. Take it slowly. Rae's friend had wasted no time forging a bond with the skittish Naomi. Now, he needed to step back and let things develop at a more cautious pace. Rita would protect her. She had that capable look about her. If Rae trusted her, he would do no less.

  The greatest threat to his plan was now his own weakening will. The need to touch her, to inhale her fragrance, to hold her close and cherish her forever...

  The strength of his needs must have somehow translated to her, for suddenly she looked wary and alarmed. Her fear was the last thing he wanted, but before he could conceive of how to defuse it, she was in frenetic motion.

  "I have to go. I have to go. Thank you for your kindness, Rita. I won't forget. I won't forget.” She repeated that almost fiercely as she skirted the both of them to make a dash for the door.

  "Naomi."

  His voice stopped her in the hall. She turned back toward him, her eyes huge, her slender body trembling like a doe's caught in a hunter's site. Gabriel smiled determinedly, letting her feel the power of his will.

  "I will see you again."

  She bolted then, racing down the hall and into the elevator standing open at its end. And she was gone.

  Gabriel's breath released in an anguished shiver.

  He started at the sudden strong clasp of Rita Davies’ hand upon his arm.

  "You were right to be concerned. Something's going on with her that's not quite right. I'll make sure she's all right and keep you posted. I'll be discreet and learn what I can without alerting her."

  "I didn't bring you here to spy on her."

  "Just consider that a freebie. Call me naturally curious. And I'll watch over her for you. Don't worry."

  Easier said than done.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Five

  "Miss Bright, where have you been?"

  Naomi straightened slowly from putting her purse in her bottom desk drawer. Her employer's icy tone had her trembling. Before she could speak, he continued harshly.

  "Not another purse snatching, I trust."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Zanlos. I was ill."

  "Too ill to pick up a phone to inform those who were worried about you?"

  She blinked. “You were worried?"

  "Of course, Miss Bright. Where would I be without you?"

  The smoothly rendered praise rinsed away her apprehension. Her tension eased, but regret remained. “I am sorry, Mr. Zanlos. I hope my absence didn't create any problems for you."

  "On the contrary. Miss Granger was happy to fill in for you."

  Naomi glanced toward the reception area. Vera Granger sat at her desk, her hands hanging loosely at her sides, her impossibly red head listing to the side as blue eyes stared more cluelessly than normal. One of Kaz Zanlos's pretty print scarves was knotted at her throat.

  A pang of envy clenched Naomi's middle, compounding the guilt with which she already wrestled. Vera Granger had been there to serve and now would reap the reward of blissful vacancy, while her own thoughts remained agonizingly clear. There would be no numbing escape for her on this night.

  "Are you sure you are all right, Miss Bright? You look ... distracted."

  She smiled at her boss, trying to appear cheerful and unconcerned. “I'm fine now. Perhaps something I ate."

  He continued to stare at her, his gaze growing eerie and luminescent. Before his mind could begin to probe hers, she pushed up a wall of quickly erected blankness. His thoughts bumped against it, roaming the outlines but unable to find a way around it, a sly cat trying to find its way into a fishbowl. A sweat broke out upon her brow, but she held firm until he withdrew. Then the barrier collapsed with an imploding relief.

  Where had she learned to do such a thing?

  With all she owed Kaz Zanlos, had she the right to keep secrets from him?

  But what purpose would it serve for him to learn of her confusion? After he'd placed so much trust in her, how disappointed he'd be in the return of her instability. She couldn't let him down. He was her only link to sanity.

  "If you're sure you're all right, Miss Bright, you can go downstairs and get a progress report from Marcus. Time is growing short and there's much to do."

  Naomi hesitated. There was so much they had to do, so many contracts and clauses to scan, so many decisions to discuss. She hadn't expected to be shooed away.

  And then, through the partially opened door to his private office, she saw a whisper of movement. Then she understood. He was already involved in business, and that business didn't include her. It was business she'd prefer to avoid. She averted her gaze from the tantalizing slit of open doorway and the mysterious figure lurking behind it. Just another secret she'd rather not know.

  "Certainly, Mr. Zanlos."

  She didn't need to trouble herself over what went on behind closed doors. A trip to the casino floor would ease her restlessness and disguise the worries she couldn't hide for a prolonged period. And with activity, there was no time to think. And to try to remember what was no longer there.

  * * * *

  The Amazon.

  She'd watched the lush landscape take shape over the course of the past few months with a nurturer's pride. By the time they were finished, nothing on the Strip would match its ambitious scale.

  There were no walls at the Amazon. Rooms seemed carved out of jungle thickets and backed against the cascade of rocky waterfalls. With the banks of slot machines standing silent and the construction crew on their break, only the sounds of the rain forest intruded. Water roared down into gurgling pools and sighed in fine mists resembling frequent showers. Music of the wild pulsed beneath—the chatter of monkeys and birds from the fronds entwined overhead, the rumble of stalking predators within the realistic thickets, frog songs trilling a resonant beat from each stand of water, all playing harmony to the primal instrumental renderings. Even the air thickened with the cool humidity of a South American evening, as artificial atmosphere spun through a shortened cycle of fresh-breaking dawn and steamy midday before slipping into the fragrant and mysterious shadows of night. Closing her eyes, Naomi became a part of that wild and dangerous setting. But only for a moment.r />
  "We're never going to get these damned machines to work right with all this humidity. It's like a frickin’ sauna in here. How are we supposed to keep things running smooth in a damned steam bath? Zanlos must be nuts."

  Naomi opened her eyes slowly then slit a stare at the grumbling and enthusiastically profane electrician who'd been toiling to bring the animatronic elements of the jungle to life.

  "I'd be happy to tell him you said so."

  Harry Bishop's expression froze into an almost comical caricature of alarm. To see such fear etched into the face of the brawny professional reinforced the powerful influence Zanlos’ name carried from the top of the towers to the sprawl of the game floor. He wasn't the type of man one wanted to anger. “Oh, no, Miss Bright. That won't be necessary."

  Her features relaxed at the big man's obvious distress. “I'm sure it won't be. If anyone can work miracles, it's you, Harry. That's why Mr. Zanlos hired you. He said he wanted the very best to bring his vision to life."

  "Is that what he said?” Harry's pride nudged his complaints aside. “It's one helluva job, if you don't mind me saying so, Miss Bright."

  "But you make it appear so effortless."

  "Yeah, well.” A flush crept up into the unshaven cheeks as quiet praise reduced him to foot scuffling boy before the dainty administrator and her gentle flattery.

  "You'll have everything ready for the opening?"

  "If it's a damned miracle Zanlos wants, it's a damned miracle he'll get."

  She touched his arm lightly. “We have every confidence in you, Harry."

  And her light touch was all it took to defuse the situation.

  She left the casino to the sound of Harry barking obscenity-laced orders to his crew. As she moved down the corridor leading to the main show room, a shiver rippled up her arms and spine. The humidity was gone, replaced by a chill that seeped to the bone. But Naomi's response was more instinctive than reflexive. The place gave her the creeps.

  Constructed to look like faux stone blocks, the vine-draped walls seemed to narrow uncomfortably. In the flickering of pseudo-torchlight, the greenery crept upon those rocky walls like thousands of squirming snakes. She drew a constricted breath in hopes of flushing the claustrophobia that came with this portion of the hotel.