Angels Fall

wasn't another woman." She sniffled. "You rob a bank?"
    And he smiled, slow and utterly charming. "No, not exactly. Do you love me?"
    "It seems I do, though its awfully inconvenient and annoying right this minute."
    "I love you, too. It's getting so I like saying it."
    She took his face so she could study it closely. "You've got till Saturday night, and God help me. Lo, I believe you when you say it wasn't another woman. I don't see how you'd hurt me that way. So don't make a tool out of me."
    "I couldn't if I tried." He took her wrists, then leaned in to touch his lips to hers. "I wouldn't it I could."
    "I was going to make a pizza." she announced. "I like pizza when I'm feeling sad and mad. I guess I like it however I'm feeling. You can share my pizza, Lo, but you're not sharing my bed. If I have to wait for Saturday night for the truth, you'll have to wait until then for sex."
    "I guess that's fair. Painful, but fair." He got to his feet, reached out a hand for hers. "You got a beer to go with the pie?"

    HE WAS COMING, through the dark, through the wind. Her boots rang on the hard-packed trail. Could he hear them? She heard nothing but the wind and the river, but she knew he was coming, moving steadily behind her like a shadow, slipping closer and closer. Soon his breath would be on the back of her neck; soon his hand would curl around her throat.
    She'd lost all sense of direction. How had she gotten here? Her only choice was ahead, up and up so that her legs wept with the effort.
    The slice of moon showed her the curve of the trail, the rock face, the dangerous and hypnotic gleam of the river below. It showed her the way, but the way held no escape. And it would guide him to her. She chanced a look behind her, saw nothing but sky and canyon. Relief came with a choked sob. She'd gotten away, somehow. It she could just keep going, keep running, she'd find her way back. She'd be safe again.
    But when she turned, stumbling forward, he was there. In front of her now, impossible. Blocking her path. Still she couldn't see his face, couldn't know him.
    "Who are you?" She screamed it out in a voice that blew across the wind. "Who the hell are you?" As he came toward her, the fingers of his gloved hands curling, uncurling, she made her choice. She jumped.
    The wind slapped her. Back into the kitchen at Maneo's. A spin to the door, another faceless man, this one in a hoodedjacket. The blast of a gun. Fain exploded—the impact of the bullet, the impact of the water.
    The river closed over her, the pantry door shut.
    And there was no light, there was no air. No life.

    SHE WOKE WITH Brady gripping her arms.
    "Snap out of it." he ordered. "Right now."
    "I jumped."
    "What you did was fall out of bed."
    "I died."
    Her skin was slicked with sweat, and his own heart was still skipping several beats. "You look pretty lively to me. Bad dream, that's all. You were putting up a hell of a fight."
    "I… what?"
    "Kicking, clawing. Come on. Up."
    "Wait. Just wait." She needed to orient herself. The dream was brutally clear, every detail. Until she hit the water, or fell into the pantry. "I was running," she said slowly. "And he was there. I jumped. Into the river. But then, it got mixed up. Or it blended. I was falling into the river, I was falling into the pantry at Maneo's. But I didn't just sink." She pressed a hand to his chest, felt the warmth against her cold skin. "I didn't just give up."
    "No. I'd say you were fighting your way to the surface. You were trying to swim."
    "Okay. Okay. Good for me. About damn time."

Chapter 27

    GETTING UP EARLY every day changed Brody's perspective. He saw more sunrises, and some of them were worth the trouble of prying his eyes open, he got more work done, which was going to make his agent and his editor happy. It gave him more time to poke around his cabin, and consider the possibility of change.

    The location was good, and while he'd toyed on and off with the possibility of buying instead of renting, maybe he should get more serious about becoming a home owner.
    Investment value, equity.
    Mortgage, maintenance.
    Well, you had to take the had with the good.
    And if he owned the place, he could expand his office, maybe add on a deck. Better view of the lake from up there, especially in the summer when the leaves thickened up. In summer, he could barely catch a glint of the water from the first-floor windows.
    A deck would be a nice place, he mused, to sit in the morning and have coffee, gear