Sara's Angel Read online

  Don’t miss the chance to read the novels that launched New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala’s career.

  THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE…

  Sara Beaudry knew the note from her brother, Roger, was a matter of life and death. Without a moment’s hesitation she walked out on her career, traded her car for a motorcycle and rode off into the Texas sunset. Roger's message had been clear: If she wanted to stay alive, she had to find his former partner, Mackenzie Hawk, who was living somewhere in Oklahoma's Kiamichi Mountains, and she had to find him fast.

  The roar of a motorcycle engine was an alien sound in the Kiamichi night. Hawk watched in disbelief as the Harley-Davidson spun into his yard and its frozen driver collapsed in his arms. What was a woman—a gorgeous woman at that—doing on his mountain in the middle of the night?

  She claimed she needed his help and that his old partner had sent her, but as far as Hawk was concerned, those days were gone. He'd left undercover work for good, and nothing was going to make him go back to it, not even a tall, leggy redhead who made his blood run hotter than it had in years.

  “You’re one tough lady, aren’t you, Sara?”

  Hawk grasped Sara’s shoulders firmly as he spoke. “But will you do what I say? Can I trust you to trust me?”

  “How could I not?” Sara replied. “You’re my guardian angel, right?”

  Hawk gasped. The look in her eyes took his breath away. An ache started so deep inside him, he couldn’t have found the source to save his life. If he wasn’t careful, this woman could prove more dangerous to him than anything he’d encountered yet.

  He didn’t want to like Sara. She didn’t belong in his world, and he damn sure didn’t belong in hers.

  * * *

  “Ms. Sala tugs at our heartstrings with tender persistence, making us ache with joy and wonder.”

  —Romantic Times Magazine

  “Sharon Sala is not only a top romance novelist, she is an inspiration for people everywhere who wish to live their dreams.”

  —John St. Augustine, Power! Talk Radio WDBC-AM Michigan

  Dear Reader,

  This month Silhouette brings you Sara’s Angel, the reissue of my first published book. It was a finalist for a RITA, which is the romance industry’s highest award, and has been my most requested book to date.

  I wrote this story in longhand on yellow legal pads, retyped it seven times before I ever sent it to a publisher, then the first publisher I sent it to, bought it. It was magic for me all the way, and I hope you feel the same when you read it.

  Sara Beaudry and MacKenzie Hawk are two very special people who are thrown together by the consequences of someone else’s actions. Their survival depends upon trusting each other, a skill that is slow to evolve. But when it does, the passion that comes with that trust is enough to last a lifetime.

  Next month, be watching for Honor’s Promise.

  I enjoy hearing from my readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 127, Henryetta, OK, 74437 or c/o eHarlequin.com.

  Enjoy the romance,

  SHARON SALA

  SARA’S ANGEL

  Also available from Sharon Sala:

  SWEET BABY

  (MIRA Books)

  REUNION

  (MIRA Books)

  REMEMBER ME

  (MIRA Books)

  THE RETURN

  by Sharon Sala writing as Dinah McCall

  (MIRA Books)

  MISSION: IRRESISTIBLE

  (July 2000, Silhouette Intimate Moments #1016)

  ALWAYS A LADY

  (Silhouette Books)

  GENTLE PERSUASION

  (Silhouette Books)

  Coming soon from Sharon Sala:

  BUTTERFLY

  (November 2000, MIRA Books)

  HONOR’S PROMISE

  (November 2000, Silhouette Books)

  KING’S RANSOM

  (December 2000, Silhouette Books)

  FAMILIAR STRANGER

  (June 2001, Silhouette Intimate Moments)

  For Kathryn, my inspiration, and for Iris,

  who believed in me beyond a mother’s pride

  and encouraged me to follow my dreams.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Mackenzie Hawk watched in silence as the only person he had ever loved was buried beneath six feet of the driest, rock-hard earth in Oklahoma. It was oddly fitting that Old Woman’s final resting place was where she had existed in life; between a rock and a hard place.

  Hawk felt as if he was being pulled inside out and took a swallow of the cold November air. How do I live with this emptiness?

  Mother, grandmother, friend. Nona Hawk, Old Woman to her Kiowa kinsmen, had gladly filled all those needs in Mackenzie Hawk’s life, and now there was no one. At the age of thirty-seven, for the first time in a life filled with hardship and denial, he was afraid.

  Drops of rain began to fall in sparse, scattered patterns, dotting the cold, dry ground and his heavy sheepskin coat with near-freezing bites. Hawk shivered, suddenly aware of the lowering temperature and the misery the few mourners must be experiencing by waiting to speak with him. Slowly he turned from the grave, reluctant to face the old friends who had also braved the harsh, winter winds on the Kiamichi Mountains to bid a final farewell to Old Woman. Hawk suffered the mumbled condolences and handshakes of sympathy in stoic silence. There would be no public display of grief from the big Indian for the mourners to enjoy. Soon they began drifting back to their vehicles, suddenly anxious to get off the mountain before they were stranded by an early winter storm.

  Hawk turned back to his silent vigil beside Old Woman’s grave. The clods of dirt and rock seemed too harsh a blanket for a final resting place, but he had done as she wished. Old Woman did not want to leave the Kiamichi, not even in death. And so he stood, head bent into the cold winds, unaware a visitor still lingered.

  Startled to hear footsteps behind him, Hawk spun about sharply, sending a small plume of dust upward, coating his pant legs, before it came to rest on the soft, brown leather of his boots. Surprise lifted the deep timbre of his voice as he acknowledged the man’s presence.

  “Roger! I didn’t know you were here.”

  Hawk’s pleasure and surprise at seeing his old friend echoed in the deep, husky growl of his voice. Memories of their years together as partners in the Company came rushing back. All the dangerous assignments, the narrow escapes, the simple joy of awakening to a new day still able to draw a deep breath...even Marla’s laughter.

  Shock stopped the flow of his memories. Hawk shuddered, took a deep mouthful of air, and then nearly groaned aloud at the pain as the cold invaded his inflated lungs. He welcomed the pain. Remembering Marla—and the lies—at a time like this seemed obscene in the face of Old Woman’s love and devotion to Hawk, the half-breed baby no one had wanted.

  Hawk shrugged and frowned, burying the image of Marla’s dark dancing eyes, clouds of black hair, and pouting lips back from wherever it had escaped.

  Roger sighed at the frown on Hawk’s face. He sensed what his appearance must have caused, what memories he had probably evoked. He knew his friend and ex-partner all too well. The big taciturn man rarely let anyone into his life. And then the one time he had let down his guard to love and trust, a woman’s deception had quickly destroyed what might have grown...a little faith in the human race. Unfortunately, the only woman Hawk had loved unconditionally and who mig
ht have been able to bring Hawk to trust again, lay under six feet of fresh dirt and rocks. Roger suspected Hawk had buried his faith and trust with her.

  “Hawk, I’m really sorry about Old Woman. You should have let me know. I would have come sooner.”

  “Sorry,” Hawk said and wearily rubbed his hands across his eyes, squinting against the tiny bits of frozen rain that bit into his cheeks. “How did you find out?”

  “The Company,” Roger answered. “You know how far-reaching the tentacles of Uncle Sam are.”

  Roger Beaudry watched a frown dig furrows in Hawk’s forehead at the mention of the Company. He knew being sent to Hawk at a time like this was a mistake, but his orders were clear. He had to ask. He looked long and hard at his old friend as tiny shards of sleet fell like frozen tears into Hawk’s shaggy pelt of black hair. If he had to describe him, the words magnificent animal would have been the first to come to mind. Hawk was tall and lean, with sharply chiseled features and a hard, hungry look about his eyes. Those cold, jade-green eyes were the unknown legacy that set him apart from his Indian kinsmen. Mackenzie Hawk was indeed a man to be reckoned with.

  Roger shuffled his feet and stuffed his numb fingers into his coat pockets.

  “Damn, the wind is cold up here. What do you say we go somewhere warm and talk, okay, Hawk?”

  Hawk’s mouth compressed into a thin, hard line. He watched Roger flush, unable to meet his eyes.

  “I doubt we have anything to talk about,” Hawk answered.

  “The Colonel sends his regrets,” Roger mumbled, aware he had already bungled this assignment, but determined to say his piece before he was ordered off the mountain.

  “I wasn’t aware the Colonel had ever regretted anything in his life,” Hawk said, a hard, angry note in his voice.

  Roger knew Hawk’s bitterness was justified. Nearly two years ago, while Hawk still worked for the Company, and one of the few times he and Roger had not worked as partners, Hawk had inadvertently become an expendable factor in a Drug Enforcement Agency operation. The Colonel’s decision to sacrifice Hawk’s cover just to find the person responsible for leaking information about Company operations did not agree with Hawk’s priorities. He had no intention of being anybody’s sacrificial lamb, not even a government lamb. In spite of them all, he had survived.

  However, to the Colonel’s dismay, Hawk handed him his badge, a government-issue handgun, and gave him a look he still had nightmares about, leaving the Colonel with no further doubts about Hawk’s opinion of him, Company policies, or the DEA. Hawk had walked out and never once regretted the decision.

  “He wants you to come in and just talk,” Roger said, but he was speaking to air. Hawk was already walking into the timberline at the edge of the clearing.

  “Hawk! What do you want me to tell him?” Roger called, but was silenced by the flash of green fire he saw in Hawk’s eyes as he looked back. Even at that distance the meaning was clear.

  Roger shrugged, pulled his collar up about his ears, and headed toward his car.

  “I’m getting off this cold, hellhole of a mountain,” he muttered. “I told the Colonel from the start this would be a wasted trip.”

  Plan A had been a farce from the beginning. Now, Roger Beaudry had his own priorities to consider since Hawk’s refusal had been voiced. If what Roger feared was true, because of the men they were after, his own family was already in danger. It was time to go to Plan B.

  Soon, there was no one and nothing left in the mountain clearing except a fresh mound of dirt and rocks that was slowly being covered by a glistening blanket of sleet and snow.

  * * *

  High on the mountain, a strong gust of wind pushed against the fortress of Hawk’s two-story log cabin, and the lonely sound echoed within the depths of his soul. The big, grey dog resting by the fireplace looked up with concern and whimpered, seeming to sense his master’s loneliness.

  “What’s the matter, Dog? Aren’t you getting enough attention?”

  In the weeks since Old Woman’s funeral, Hawk had existed in a vacuum. Now, he belonged to no one and he belonged nowhere, except here, on the Kiamichi.

  For the first time since her death, Hawk wished Old Woman had wanted the television he tried to give her, and the phone he wanted to install, but no electrical gadgets had been welcome in her world.

  His gaze rested lovingly on the polished sheen of cedar-paneled walls, hardwood floors that smelled of beeswax and Old Woman’s favorite lemon polish, even the thick, multi-colored rugs of heavy, braided cotton belonged in her world. Unfortunately for Hawk, she no longer had any need for them. She had remained firm about some things, yet had welcomed the modern appliances in her kitchen and liked the comfort and convenience of the central-heating system fueled by the massive fireplace circulating its heat throughout the house. But no TV and no phone.

  About the time Old Woman’s age made coping alone impossible, and mortality beckoned, she knew it was time to call Hawk home. She summoned her son from his wanderings about the world, working for a government that had been his salvation and then...nearly destroyed him.

  Though Hawk was not of her flesh, he was part of her heart. All the love and nurturing that was in Nona Hawk had been poured into the tiny baby who was literally dropped into her life.

  Awakened from her sleep late one night by loud shouts and a constant pounding on her front door, she cringed in fright as she crept from her bed in search of a flashlight and something to use as a weapon. By the time she gained the courage to open her door, there was no one outside. Breathing a sigh of relief, she quickly scanned the darkness with the tiny beam of light from her flashlight and saw nothing. It was a familiar sound that caught her attention, like the mewling of newborn kittens. She turned her light toward the sound in disgust. It wouldn’t have been the first time puppies or the like had been thrust uninvited into her life. Only this time, it was different.

  Nona Hawk gasped as her light caught on a shallow basket pushed against the wall of her porch. Surely her eyes were deceiving her. But no...it was...a baby! A tiny, mere hours old baby, with only a blanket between it and the world, lay waiting for something...or someone...to make the decision for it between life and death.

  The beam of light caught its attention and its unfocused gaze tried to follow the light to the source. Then the baby’s tiny mouth crinkled into a grimace and a loud, lusty cry echoed into the darkness and down the Kiamichi Mountain.

  Nona’s flashlight fell unheeded onto the porch as she bent down and scooped the baby from the basket into her arms. Hurrying inside the cabin to warmth and safety, she walked quickly toward the fireplace, kneeling down to use the glow from the banked flames as light to view her uninvited guest. Laying the baby gently onto the thick, braided rug in front of the fireplace, she used her fingers as well as her eyes to see the baby.

  “Such a fine, strong baby,” she crooned, feeling the sturdy build of tiny shoulders and arms. The baby kicked at the confines of the blanket about its legs and Nona gently pulled the covers away, intent on finishing her appraisal of the baby. “A man-child,” she said, surprise entering her voice. The birth of a baby boy is usually met with much joy within an Indian community. Why, she wondered, was this one not wanted?

  The baby’s whimpers silenced and his unfocused gaze turned toward the sound of Nona’s voice.

  “Ahh, so, so,” she muttered to herself, as she saw the startling sheen of the baby’s emerald-green gaze. “Well, now, little half-breed, so no one wanted you, did they?”

  As if sensing the burden he had been born bearing, the baby’s face contorted, and his loud, lusty cry echoed within the walls of her cabin.

  “Don’t cry, little one,” she crooned, gathering him and the blanket gently against her breasts. “No one wanted Old Woman either. Maybe that is why you came, hunh? What do you think, little man?”

  And so it was. The days passed, weeks into months, months into years. Old Woman watched him grow and when it was time, pushed him from the
nest with pride and regret. Yet when it had become necessary, Mackenzie Hawk came back to the Kiamichi to stay.

  But now he was alone. The money he had saved during his years with the government was considerable. And his investments were sound. Although Mackenzie Hawk did not take many chances with friendships, it seemed everything else he gambled on made money. What he lacked in judgment and trust of people, he put wholeheartedly into his own judgment of a good investment. He was rarely wrong.

  Mackenzie Hawk had more money than he knew what to do with, and an accountant who was constantly trying to rectify the situation with tax shelters, more investments, and depreciation.

  He had money. What he didn’t have was a single, solitary soul who cared, except perhaps his dog. With Old Woman gone, the cabin was as empty as Hawk’s heart.

  Hawk also knew, although he told himself more than once he didn’t care, that staying on the Kiamichi when there was no longer a need was foolish. He was merely prolonging his grief by dwelling on his loss. Old Woman would have been the first to shoo him away.

  Hawk sighed and then frowned. Dog whined again. The animal turned his massive head toward the door that was fastened tightly against the night’s winter breath. By morning, no matter how highly the fire burned inside, there would be an inch of ice on the windows.

  “It’s only the wind, boy. It’s too cold and too late for visitors.”

  But Dog would not be silenced. Finally, exasperated, Hawk went to the door, letting a good thirty degrees of heat out into the night as the full force of the winds nearly took his breath away. For a few seconds, he could hear nothing but the whistle of the wind, yet Dog continued to whine, looking into the darkness. And then Hawk heard it, too. A high-pitched sound, spinning and straining, like an engine racing too fast and too hard.

  Where there had been only night, came a single eye of light, hurtling out of the blackness. Hawk grabbed the raised fur on the back of Dog’s neck, preventing him from bounding off the porch after the one-eyed demon, and so he settled for a menacing growl of warning instead. The demon began to take on a more recognizable form as it came closer and closer to the light spilling onto the porch from behind Hawk.