Sara's Angel Read online

  Some crazy kid on a big Harley! Hawk thought, and he struggled with his pet’s increased agitation.

  Just as Hawk feared cycle and rider would not make the curve of his yard, it spun about, throwing dirt and gravel into the maelstrom of winter winds. The light from the open door reflected a matching film of dust and dried mud on black leather and black metal alike. It was obvious the ride had been long and wild.

  “I’m looking for Hawk...Mackenzie Hawk.” The words were muffled by the rider’s helmet and slurred, nearly blown away by the winds as the rider swayed drunkenly.

  “Dog, stay!” Hawk ordered. He closed the door and stepped out onto the porch. It looked as if some drunk kid was on a joy ride up the Kiamichi, although this stunt was usually reserved for warmer weather.

  I better get him inside to sleep it off or he’ll probably freeze to death before he sobers up, Hawk thought.

  The rider dismounted from the cycle, staggering slightly as though solid ground were a strange phenomenon. Hawk grabbed at the leather-clad arm, intending to hasten them both inside to warmth when the rider crumpled to the ground.

  “Damn!” Hawk muttered, and quickly bent down, intent on carrying his uninvited visitor inside. Hard muscles bunched and rippled across his back, straining the soft, flannel fabric of his shirt as he lifted the rider upward into his arms. With a single motion, the rider’s head rolled limp against Hawk’s arm and the cycle helmet fell off, hit the ground, and bobbed awkwardly about until it came to rest against the porch steps.

  Hawk froze and watched the hair spill out of the helmet and over his arms before the wind whipped the long, fiery strands across his neck and face. A woman! Some crazy, redhead had taken the Kiamichi in the dark, at breakneck speed, in the dead of winter.

  She has to be crazy, Hawk thought, entering the house. Sidestepping Dog, he kicked the door shut behind him. Hawk carried her closer to the fire and laid her carefully on a long, leather sofa. She sank limp into its depths, her hair in wild abandon, scattering in tangled curls onto the pillows cushioning her head.

  Damn! She is so pale and too still, Hawk thought. His heart began to race as he thrust his hand into the fiery tangle of hair about her throat, searching for a pulse. It was like touching satin—cold, white satin. He felt the smallest of tremors at the base of her throat and breathed a quick sigh of relief, but it was obvious she was in distress.

  Hypothermia at the very least, maybe frostbite, he thought, quickly scanning her fingertips for telltale signs. “No time to be a gentleman about this,” Hawk muttered.

  Dog watched in stillness, his dark eyes following his master’s every move.

  Layer by layer, working swiftly and silently, Hawk stripped the clothing from the woman’s body. He threw a heavy woolen blanket over her nudity, left her on the sofa, and once again ordered Dog to stay.

  Hypothermia, hypothermia...what in hell are the steps for treating hypothermia? This must have been covered in survival training, he thought, hurrying down the long hallway to his bathroom.

  Scattered bits of lost knowledge began to surface in Hawk’s mind while he knelt by the bathtub and began filling it with water. In an instant, he was back by the fireplace, standing over the still body of his unexpected guest.

  “I don’t treat all my guests this way, lady. You’ll just have to take my word for it,” he muttered and leaned over.

  Hawk threw aside the blanket cover and once again scooped her into his arms. The bathtub was about half full as he knelt down and carefully lowered her, feet first, into the tub.

  She moaned and weakly tried to lift herself from the chilly bath before slipping back into an unconscious state.

  “I know, lady, I know. I fell into a creek once in the dead of winter. But you got yourself into this shape, I’m just trying to save your pretty hide,” Hawk whispered, and lifted her head higher onto his arm.

  An icy wave sloshed over the side of the tub and all the way down the front of Hawk’s clothes.

  “Damn, that’s cold,” he groaned, watching the spreading stain on his shirt and down onto his lap. “Hope nothing shrinks permanently, but it sure feels like it did.” He shuddered against the chill.

  Dog whined softly from the doorway of the bathroom.

  “We’re okay, boy. Go back by the fire.”

  Hawk kicked the door closed as his furry companion silently obeyed. Over the next hour, Hawk gradually replaced the chilly waters with warmer and warmer temperatures until the woman’s body was rosy pink and beads of perspiration lined her upper lip and across her forehead, plastering errant curls damply to her face and neck.

  A thick fog of warmth and humidity filled the small room, infiltrating every pore and fiber of Hawk’s body and clothes. His muscles ached from the strain and tension of keeping her head from sliding under the water level and her dark-auburn curls kept getting tangled in the buttons of his shirt while he held her carefully in his arms.

  Her hair sure has a mind of its own, he marveled, unwinding for the umpteenth time an orphan strand of hair from two of his shirt buttons. The colors were dark and rich, blended like the leaves of Indian summer on the Kiamichi Mountains. Deep reds with darker-brown undertones fought with gold-shot strands for dominance as it twisted sensuously about.

  Hawk slowly replaced the cooling waters with a fresh supply of warm and wondered what would make someone commit a foolhardy act such as this woman had. It was suicide on the mountain at night. The roads were dark and one-laned. Absolutely no light, except moonlight, was able to filter through the trees that bordered the narrow paths.

  He leaned back on his heels and expelled a shaky sigh of relief. She seemed to be showing signs of regaining consciousness. Her pulse had steadied and her eyelids fluttered weakly, as she fought against the lethargy the warm water and an exhausted state had induced.

  Hawk began to move quickly. He had to get her out of the tub, dry, and into a bed before she awakened. He didn’t know how she would react to waking naked in a tub of warm water with a strange man watching, but he had no intention of finding out.

  With one arm still under her neck for support, he leaned over to release the stopper from the tub. Hawk watched the lowering waters slowly reveal the ivory perfection of the woman’s long-limbed grace. Now that imminent danger concerning her health had passed, Hawk no longer denied himself the right to a better inspection of his uninvited guest.

  Her firmly toned body hinted at daily workouts and classic, delicate features revealed a beauty that needed no makeup for enhancement. She had a wide, sensuous mouth, a thick brush of eyelashes just darker than her hair, delicately arched brows, and a stubborn jut to her chin that seemed to go naturally with such fiery curls.

  She was beautiful...and Hawk didn’t want her there. The physical perfection of her body and face made Hawk’s body react with a persistent ache he did not welcome. Strangers, regardless of beauty, were not his style. He was past the age of indiscriminate encounters, no matter how enticing. And, after Marla’s deceit, Hawk didn’t trust such beauty. She’d used her looks as a mask to hide behind, and then finally, even her beauty had not been enough to save her.

  Distracted from his musings by the woman’s increased agitation, he reluctantly smoothed damp ringlets from her forehead. He watched her struggle, unwilling to touch her in any way other than impersonal care. Hawk watched her grimace and flick the delicate rose tip of her tongue slowly across her swollen, wind-chapped lips, and fought the urge to follow in its path. Perspiration pooled and ran unchecked down her cheeks like tears.

  “So warm,” she whispered, “cold...tired...freezing. Now, so warm. Heaven.”

  “No thanks to you, lady,” Hawk muttered, as the last of the water emptied down the drain. He wrapped her damp body in a blanket and carried her back to the warmth and comfort of the sofa by the fire.

  She sighed and snuggled deeply into the cushiony comfort of her makeshift bed as Hawk covered her gently with extra blankets.

  Hawk was struck by how nat
ural this seemed, caring for a woman again, and realized it was probably because of Old Woman. Her last days had been like this for him. Having someone to care for again seemed...familiar. He glared accusingly at the young woman as she lay sleeping and resented the emotions she had stirred in his angry heart.

  The house was in darkness and the only illumination in the room was from the dying embers of the fire in the massive stone fireplace. Hawk added firewood from the stack on the hearth so the winter chill would not overtake the comfort of the room. All he needed was for her to get pneumonia and then he would be saddled with a stranger for weeks. It was next to impossible to get off the mountain when it snowed, and snow was in the forecast.

  Backing up to the flickering warmth, he wearily began to remove his own wet clothing, intent on finally getting some much needed rest. His guest seemed to be holding her own. He was down to a snowy strip of cotton that passed for men’s underwear, molding tight, muscular buttocks, a hard, flat stomach, and his bulge of manhood. He spun about, forgetting his nearly nude state, when he heard her speak.

  He is so beautiful. A dark god standing in the light. Squinting her eyes weakly against the unaccustomed light of the brightly burning logs, she whispered softly, “I died...dear God. I tried so hard. An angel...so beautiful...must be heaven. My angel is...so beautiful,” and her eyelids fluttered, too heavy to stay open.

  Hawk knelt swiftly, hoping to catch some clue from her rambling words.

  “What’s your name, lady?” Hawk asked softly, and grasped her chin, gently turning her face toward his searching gaze.

  “Sara...name Sara. My angel...please help,” and her words became incoherent as she again drifted into slumber.

  “I’m no angel, lady,” Hawk whispered, his callused thumb gently tracing across her wind-burned lips, lingering unnecessarily on the tiny cleft in her proud chin. “Not anymore. I fell from heaven a long time ago.”

  She continued to toss and turn, murmuring softly from time to time. Assuring himself she was all right, Hawk gathered his wet clothing from the floor, tossed them on top of the washer in the kitchen, and let Dog in from his nightly prowl. He had started up the stairs to bed when something the woman kept repeating caught his attention.

  He stepped away from the bottom stair and walked back to his unwelcome guest. A wary look and then growing anger deepened the green fire in his eyes. His lips thinned and then compressed in fury as he silently absorbed the muttered words.

  “Hawk will help. Roger says tell Hawk. Tell my angel...Hawk must save Roger. Company...trouble.” Her words faded into nothing. She turned her head into the softness of the sofa cushions and drifted into a deeper sleep.

  A burning log in the fireplace behind Hawk popped, sending a shower of sparks against the screen. Echoing sparks of fury exploding behind the green fire in his eyes.

  “Sonofabitch,” he said, looking about wildly for something to throw. The Company wasn’t satisfied when I told Roger at Old Woman’s funeral I wasn’t interested. They had to send some crazy female to get me back. “Well, to hell with the Company,” he muttered, “to hell with Roger, and to hell with you, lady. Did they think I was so damn stupid I’d fall for this twice in one lifetime?”

  He stood over the unsuspecting woman, naked muscles glowing like burnished teakwood in the firelight, as he clinched and unclinched his fists in frustration.

  “I should have let you freeze.”

  With that bitter epitaph hurled into the darkness, he stomped up the stairway and into the shadows.

  Dog whined softly, aware of his master’s agitation. He watched him disappear up the stairwell and then looked at the stranger who slept by the fire. Sniffing the old braided rug on the hearth, he turned around two or three times until he was satisfied and claimed his bed.

  Soon, the snap of an occasional log as the fire burned into a pocket of sap, and the mournful sound of the winter winds outside the snug walls of the cabin were the only signs of life on the Kiamichi Mountain.

  Chapter 2

  A hard-rock rhythm bounced the Jimi Hendrix classic “Wild Thing” off the padded walls of the sound studio. The tall, leggy redhead in tight, black leather strutted and pouted in sync until observers were uncertain where the song stopped and the redhead began.

  “That’s great, baby! Great! This new commercial is gonna sell cars like crazy!”

  The voice of the heavyset director standing somewhere behind the heat and blinding lights made Sara wince as she turned her back to the cameras and rolled her hips suggestively.

  There’s got to be a better way to make a living, Sara thought, and then sighed in relief as she faintly heard someone yell over the din.

  “Cut, that’s a wrap.”

  Sara turned to see Morty Sallinger, her manager, threading his way through the people and props with determination, and began mentally preparing herself for the confrontation she knew she would have to endure.

  “You were fantastic, Sara,” her manager wheezed, and ran his beefy fingers suggestively up and down the hot, leather sleeves of her jacket and down the curve of her backside.

  “How about dinner tonight? We’ll discuss your next assignment. If this spot takes off like I think it will, you’re gonna be the hottest thing on video. There won’t be enough Wildcats on the showroom floors to keep up with the demand. The car will be as hot as you are. So...whadaya say?”

  The leer and suggestive manner of Morty made her shudder. With revulsion in every nuance of her body language, she backed casually away from his too familiar manner. After eight years in the business, she was adept at sidestepping such invitations without alienating her future, yet it still left Sara feeling dirty. She resented having to play these games to retain her privacy and personal integrity.

  “Now, Morty,” Sara said, and bent down to pick up a bulky shoulder bag. She always carried a complete change of clothes and all the necessities for the instant beauty her job required. “You know I have an early shoot tomorrow for that new makeup account. You don’t want me to look all puffy-eyed on my close-ups, do you?”

  She smiled what she hoped was a congenial smile in his direction. What she’d really like to do was put his beefy hands in buckets of concrete and when it hardened, drop him into the nearest river.

  “Oh, Sara,” one of the workers called out, “this letter came Special Delivery a couple of hours ago. I signed for it so you wouldn’t mess up your take. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, Paul. You’re a doll.”

  She waved her thanks to the makeup man who handed her the letter.

  Sara was a favorite within the modeling community. In a business where fame was as fleeting as the beauty of the models, and as fickle, Sara was one of the few who had made the transition from ingenue to near-superstar status.

  She flopped wearily into one of the numerous folding chairs about the set and tore into the letter. Unaware she was being observed—unaware the contents of the letter were about to set a series of events into motion that would forever change her life.

  * * *

  “Yes, sir! She’s still on the set. I’ve been observing her every move for nearly a week. Say the word, and I’ll contain the problem immediately.”

  The man was nondescript. He’d been hired, as always, to do certain jobs no one else either could, or would, do. And his job, this time, was Sara Beaudry. How he managed to get her was unimportant to his boss. Just get her was the order...and he followed orders very well. He blended into the stage crew and media personnel as if he wasn’t there. It was his job to be inconspicuous. It was also his job to be thorough. He was very good at his job.

  “Sir?” he questioned. The wall phone he was using hung in a darkened corner of the studio, and he continued receiving his orders unobserved.

  “Yes, sir, immediately. I’ll contain this situation before nightfall.” He hung up the phone, his gaze searching the milling crowd on the sound stage, and then smiled slightly to himself as he spotted his...job across the room. br />
  * * *

  Sara was delighted when she realized the letter was from Roger. He was all the family she had. Although their respective occupations prevented them from spending as much time together as they would have liked, they were still very close.

  At first glance, Sara thought her brother was playing a joke because the letter made no sense. Then, rereading the odd message, apprehension forced a nearly forgotten warning Roger had given her years ago when he first began working for the government to surface. Something was wrong. Sara was sure of it. Her hands trembled, scanning the brief note for further clues that would assure her she was mistaken. But there were none. Panic weighted her breath and loud, slow heartbeats hammered in her ears as if her blood was too thick to flow. Sara read the note for the third time, memorizing every comma and nuance.

  Sara, our holiday plans are blown. Sure sorry. If things don’t change soon, looks like I’ll be with Mom and Dad for Christmas instead of with you as planned. I hate for you to be alone, although I’m sure you’re NOT right now. Why don’t you take an extended vacation? You work too hard. I’m sure the rest would do you more good than you know. Once again, sorry. I’ll be in touch. Say hello to Big Bird for me. Love, Roger

  Sara leaned against the back of the chair and casually stuffed the letter into the depths of her shoulder bag. She ran a shaky hand through the tangled mane the hairdresser had given her for the Wildcat look, mentally deciphering the contents. Roger was in trouble. His cover was blown. His life was in danger, and if she read him correctly, so was hers.

  Their parents had been dead for seven years. They died in a plane crash on their way to a second honeymoon. If Roger’s reference to spending Christmas with them was sincere...dear God, she thought. And then stifled the panic that threatened. She took a deep breath. This had to look good.

  Sara rose, stretched as if working the kinks from her back and legs after the grueling shoot, and looked around. She casually began removing her heavy makeup just as she did every day after filming was finished. She didn’t see anything or anyone suspicious, but she wasn’t taking chances. If Roger told her to get to Big Bird, she knew she was in danger. From the few things she remembered Roger saying about his former partner, the man was formidable. Better to have him as an ally than an enemy. If she was in need of a refuge, it would have to be Mackenzie Hawk. There was one problem she still faced. Sara only knew one place to look for him. If he was gone from the mountains, then God help her and Roger, because there would be no one else left who could.