Guns For Angels Read online

  * * * * *

  He blinked at the stained wood of the bathroom door once; twice; a third time, as he tried to breathe. Nobody called Mark Carson a jackass. Nobody. Except a tiny lady with blond curls and blue eyes, it seemed.

  Any other person would be bleeding unconscious by now. He would never raise a finger on a woman, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish she were a dude and dream about breaking his nose.

  He leaned his back against the wall, watched her amble back to the bed. In a peaceful face, her eyes gave away a deeper, hopeless sorrow. She sat on the blanket, straightened her back and closed her eyes, stretching her neck sideways a few times. She was a pretty little thing, all right, reminded him of those porcelain dolls his sister had as a kid, all eyes and peachy, pale skin. Maybe now those dolls belonged to his nice, who knew.

  Ann didn’t move when his cell rang. It was Mouse, who graced him with a call. He had better have some answers. “Talk.”

  “It’s bad, Bear, worse than I thought. Put it together with what Mary told me, it’s deep shit.”

  Mark drew the thin curtain with the tip of his fingers and peeked at the parking lot. “Give me all of it, I’m sick of not knowing.”

  “To sum up, I talked with Snake and we’re in. I–”

  “You talked to him? The guys aren’t picking up my calls, why?”

  “What do I know? I do know that something is weird, though. Listen, keep the girl safe until I figure out what’s going on.”

  “Are you telling me we still have nothing?”

  “There are things I need to square out before I can give you a report that makes sense, and…”

  “What now?”

  Something beeped in the background as Mouse clicked on the keyboard. “Something wrong is happening to my computer. I don’t like it,” Mouse said, matter-of-factly. “Listen, the plane to Savannah takes off in 90 minutes, I’ll catch up with you there. Be careful.”

  “Mouse–”

  Mark thought about hitting his head against the wall when Mouse dropped the line. So, nobody respected hierarchy any longer. A girl called him names, his team didn’t bother to take up his calls and when they did, they hung up on him.

  Fuck!

  All right, he would get something from the girl. Probably she didn’t know much more than he did, but he wasn’t alive because he waited. He had to do something to clarify the situation so he could doze off for few minutes. His eyes snapped to her.

  She was fast asleep, in an odd sleeping position. Her feet were on the floor, but her body had fallen on one side, as if she’d deflated.

  The palm of his hand glided over the top of his dark crew cut, and then down to rub the raspy stubble on his face.

  With soundless steps he walked to her. Gently, as if she was really a porcelain doll, he stretched her legs across the bed. He didn’t touch her clothes, but he went so far as to untie her shoes and take them off. Then, he laid the thin blanket over her.

  She sighed, and snuggled into the old bed.

  Mark sat on the wobbly chair beside the window and waited.

  * * * * *

  Ann woke up slowly.

  She had such a strange dream. No, not a dream, but a nightmare that made her want to call Mary as soon as her brain rebooted again.

  And why did her bed stink like dirty dust? Oh, well, it could be cleaned. She waited for some familiar sounds of her home–the coffee maker, the buzzing of the fridge, the busy streets.

  If silence shook her awake, the imposing man sitting on a chair by the window shoved her back to reality. With a cruel smile, pain jabbed her heart and she curled some more into the blanket.

  The man’s head turned in her direction; his eyes located her.

  Ann didn’t want to move, so she stayed where she was, watching him watching her. Even in that moment of quiet, his brows were knitted in combative concentration, his jaw ruler-straight and tight. His stillness had nothing to do with a pacified spirit and everything to do with control. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Ann said.

  “After a shock the body needs rest.”

  She sure was in shock now, at the sound of his voice. Still assertive, still full of authority, but lacking anger, mockery or any other negative note. If he were someone else, she would have described him as ruggedly gentle.

  “What about you? Did you rest?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t in shock.”

  “Oh.” She sat, flattened imaginary wrinkle on the blanket. “Well, I’m awake, you can sleep for a while. I will see that everything stays… good. Peaceful. Regular.” A tentative smile curved her lips as her shoulders sagged. “I’m not familiar with the macho Army vernacular.”

  “I wasn’t in the Army.”

  “Really? You have the looks for it.”

  “Marine.”

  “Is it that different?”

  “Very.”

  Slowly, as if he had all night, he got up and sat on her side of the bed. The mattress squeaked and bent under his weight. Ann settled a little further away.

  “Tell me what happened,” he asked.

  “You’re creepy when you’re kind.”

  “I can switch back any time.”

  “No, kind’s good. I’m Ann Holloway, by the way.”

  Something looking a lot like surprise shone for a blink in his dark eyes, as his hand swallowed the one she offered. “Bear.”

  She frowned. “That’s your name?”

  “It’s the one you need to know.”

  “I’m not going to call you that. Tell me your name, the real one.”

  It had been years since the last time someone used his real name, Mark thought. It didn’t change their relationship, it didn’t make them friends or anything. It was just his name, he could say it. “Mark. Mark Carson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mark Carson. I thought it was a good thing to introduce myself as there are people trying to kill us.”

  “You. There are people trying to kill you, not us. Why?”

  “I have no clue.”

  “What happened last night?”

  She would had to face what had happened, sooner or later, so Ann took a fortifying breath. “It was strange from the beginning. Mary never visited, she’s… she was a very smart executive, owned a club in Miami. I was surprised when she barged in, telling me to pack something, we were going on vacation.” Distrust made her stiffen. “Hey, how do I know you’re not one of them? That I can trust you?”

  “You’re breathing.”

  Ann wasn’t all that convinced, but it made sense. “I guess.”

  “My patience’s running thin.”

  “All right, all right. Where was I?”

  “Your sister told you you’d go on vacation with her,” he growled between his teeth.

  “Oh, yeah. So, I didn’t want to go… I mean, I did want to go, but I couldn’t. I have a business too, you see? I can’t just go. She started to pack for me like a mad woman. It scared me, she’d always been the even-tempered, well-mannered one. Then…”

  She swallowed hard.

  “The window crashed, probably in the bedroom, and the door sprang open. Mary shouted at me to run. I was close to the kitchen window, so I went down the fire escape and I started running. I heard them behind me, I think they tried to shoot at me but maybe it was just my imagination, it wasn’t noisy like in the movies. I didn’t stop to see if Mary was with me. I was sure she was, she’s always with me when we’re in trouble but…”

  Ann pressed a hand on her mouth, shut her eyes against the memory.

  “Did you see anyone?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Ah, just a glimpse of one of the men. Tall, I guess. He wore black from head to toe and… he had blond hair, in a ponytail. I’m sorry.”

  Mark looked at the window for a long moment. “Mouse had better tell me something more.”

  He started to get up, but she stretched a hand over his
arm, hard and tanned granite. Surprise at that touch shone in his eyes and it was gone a breath after, but he sat again.

  “I told you what you wanted to know,” she said. “I have questions, too.”

  “We’ll keep you alive. It’s enough.”

  “I’ve just lost my sister.” The meaning of her words bit at her eyes and she had to battle away tears. “There are people trying to kill me and I’m in a terribly bad motel with a man who’s helping me, but in a very rude way. You must see that I need more than your name.”

  “Bad motel owners don’t ask questions, this one was too drunk to even see my face. That’s why we’re here.”

  “That’s not what I asked and I’m running short of patience myself, Mark.”

  She had meant to be at least a little intimidating, but the low rumbling shaking in his chest sounded like a laugh. It was a good sound, given the circumstances.

  He scratched his chin, taking some time before the answer. “The Boss calls us the Team. We help people.”

  “I thought the police was all about that.”

  “Sometimes you can’t call the police. Sometimes you don’t want to.”

  “Why wouldn’t you call the police if you’re in trouble?”

  “People have reasons. Bottom line is, they’re in trouble, we help them, they pay us.”

  “How do Mary and I fit into this?”

  “Mouse called me. He knew your sister and–”

  “How? I’ve never heard her talking about a Mouse. Not a person called Mouse, anyway. Is that his real name? He must have had such a hard time in school.”

  Mark’s voice was dangerously controlled. “When I talk, you don’t.”

  Ann mouthed a sorry, gestured zipping her mouth.

  “I was still in New York after our last case. He worried about a friend of his, Mary. He asked me to see that she and her sister were safe.”

  “Safe from what?”

  “It looks like your sister stuck her nose into something she shouldn’t have. Mouse convinced her to disappear for a while. We’ll rendezvous in Savannah.”

  Ann nodded. “So, you help people, you’re borderline outlaws, and you’re difficult to find. You guys are the A-Team. Hey, stop glaring at me, I didn’t mean to insult you! The A-Team was very cool, and they always won.”

  “Let’s go before I hand you over.”

  “I’m sure you’d love that. There’s just one tiny problem: you don’t know who they are.” Ann got off the bed, and stretched her legs before she stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “I want to know who did this to Mary, who dared to hurt my sister, break into my home and kick me out of it. You’re officially hired.”

  He stood, towering over her and nodded. She had the feeling that from a man like Mark Carson, a nod was all she needed.

  Chapter 3

  Miles went by, buried in silence.

  Ann tried to enjoy the scenery, but the road ahead was flat and long, the landscape never changed as the engine chanted the same monotone. Not even a car to overtake. Her foot started tapping a fast rhythm, her fingers fidgeted with the rim of her t-shirt. Closed in a car, meditating and yoga didn’t look like a possibility.

  To top it all off, the car was clean like an operating room, and it didn’t give a clue of its surly owner, nor cues for small talk. The glove box was empty but for a little book with the sedan’s specifics–a 2.5L 4-cylinder engine, whatever that meant, and it had eight airbags. Ann looked around, trying to figure out from where they would come out, but closed the compartment with a sigh.

  She’d been still for so long her butt burned all the way up to her back, and as soon as she lowered her defenses, thoughts of Mary attacked. “Why Savannah?” she blurted out to avoid screaming.

  Mark came back from a galaxy of rumination far, far away. “The Team has a safe house there. We’ll regroup, decide the next step. You’ll be staying with the Boss while we sort this out.”

  The blur of green at their sides–trees and fields, trees and fields–kept rolling.

  “How many people are on the Team? I mean, I think there were at least ten mean guys in my home.”

  “Mean? You call that mean?” His lips quirked into something like a smile. “Those were killers, Ann. People who kill for a living.”

  “I know, but I really don’t like the word.”

  He checked the rear-view mirror again, and then her face. “Are you scared?”

  Ann mulled over the answer.

  He was built like an iron safe, only more attractive despite–or because of–his everlasting scowl. But as strong as his body was, she realized she trusted his self-confidence, his inner energy. Dark violence seethed in him, but in that darkness she felt safe. This man would fight to his last breath to find out what happened, to give justice to her sister. “You’re with me. I’m not afraid.”

  Mark glanced at her.

  Throwing balls with dad in the courtyard and throwing a grenade were basically the same actions, he considered: you have something in your hand, and hurl it away. The outcome changed.

  He realized that words worked in the same way. He’d been entrusted with other’s lives before, thanked with simple words that, if had fed his need to protect, had left his heart cold.

  She’d said nothing big, just a simple statement, but it reached into his guts, froze it, and melted it again. H e didn’t care for the feeling.

  No Boss buffering between him and the client, Mark hurried to reason. This time he knew whom he had to protect: a beautiful, sunny woman smack dab in the middle of a war too big for her. This time, he wasn’t looking at the client’s eyes from afar–the happiness, the gratitude, the relief. This client’s eyes, too pure for their own good, were at his side. A person, not a client. She might have tons of friends, loving parents and a big family beside Mary, maybe a lover. But today, she had nobody but him. He’d see that her trust was well placed.

  “So how many men on the Team?” she asked again. “Fifteen? Twenty?”

  “It’s four operative.”

  She nodded, serious, her messy curls bouncing up and down. “Our odds are so very good.”

  “It’s more than enough.”

  “If you say so,” she mumbled under her breath. “So how did you start? I mean, you saw an ad and replied? ‘We need big and angry men, come join us, no experience needed’?”

  He found himself talking before he could stop. “You need a lot of experience, unless you’re a hi-tech genius like Mouse.”

  “And you had it because you were a Marine.”

  He nodded.

  “Tell me,” she prodded.

  “I walked off, tried the civilian life. Didn’t work. Then the Boss found me and we found the boys.”

  “Walk off like retire? Why?”

  He prickled at the unfamiliar occurrence of being questioned. “Is this a third degree?”

  Ann’s serene face stayed in place, uncaring about both his sharp tone and the nasty look. “Just a boring journey.”

  “Let’s be bored in silence.” Mark had enough on his plate, he didn’t need to remember how estranged the outside world had felt after he’d resigned, or how real the shame. It hurt more than the scars mapping his body, even more because he was powerless against the only choice he’d had. It helped thinking that it had been the right choice. It’d never been about him, it was all about being part of a unit: a weak link meant death for all.

  She cut in on his thoughts. “Did they kick you out?”

  “You just don’t quit, do you?”

  “What did you do? It has to be something bad to justify kicking you out. You seem very capable.”

  “They didn’t kick me out,” he muttered.

  “So you left. If you left, it couldn’t have been that bad. Come on,” she urged, elbowing at his arm and whispering: “Tell me your dirty secret.”

  For a long moment, the rumble of the car was the only sound. He kept his eyes on the road, so he wouldn’t risk meet hers. She might see the shame, the hurt.
“I couldn’t do my job at my best anymore.”

  Part of the stiffness in his neck eased, as those words didn’t hurt so much.

  “Like physically?” she asked. “You’re not that old, you’re what? Thirty-eight? Forty?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Really? You look older. Wiser,” she hurried.

  “Why, thank you.” He shook his head at her nerve. Yet, her remark wasn’t why he was suddenly annoyed. It's that angel face of hers, he thought when he found out he wanted, needed to tell her more. “It wasn’t a physical problem. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  She waited, he squeezed the wheel harder. “Every time I guided my men out, I only wanted it to be over. That’s how you miss details, it’s how your men end up dead.”

  “You weren’t happy, and you closed that chapter of your life.”

  He shrugged, irked. “When the Boss offered me the lead of the Team, I thought it was my job, only toned down a lot. So I took it.”

  “You needed a change, I get it. I decided I was going to change my life the night I turned thirty, three years ago. I opened my eyes and I saw I wasn’t happy.”

  Mark looked at her briefly, curious, almost expectant, about what she would say next. She got lost in her thoughts for a moment, leaving him suspended in her silence.

  “Before that night, I never understood what my mom used to tell me when I was little. I took it as some hippy stuff and nothing more.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That living and breathing are two different things, and we have to be concerned about the former, because time is not to be wasted. That night, I got it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I left my secretary work and opened the center, which was what I wanted. I started living in balance and simplicity, which is who I am.”

  “You sure you’re not seventy?”

  “I’ll be, one day, and I’ll have memories of happiness and fulfillment, tonight aside. Are you like that now? Happy and fulfilled?”