Angel's Hero

Chapter 14

Connor's morning was miserable.
Last night had been torturous for him. After leaving Angel's cottage and returning to the office, he'd had to tell the story three times, because once he'd told Marie, she'd spread the word, and his other deputies on rotating shifts had come in to ask him about it.
Everyone at the station knew the bakery in the harbor, and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the name until one of his deputies said it.
"Angel's Kiss, Baked Goods and More."
It made his throat burn.
He'd spent the rest of the previous morning going through his notes, and seeing what he could gather on Cassy Cole's murder.
He'd called a friend in the department over in Miami, and requested the case file and had received the digitized version a couple minutes later, with the promise that the hard copy itself would arrive on his desk within the next forty-eight hours.
Running through the evidence gathered, he noted the cause of the fire.
Someone had fed cotton cool into the buildings air vents, which had pumped all the connected units full of smoke, before setting curtains near a fireplace alight in one of the lower level apartments.
It was a high-profile apartment block, with a lot of security. Conner wondered how the perpetrator had managed to make their way in. Another resident? Inside job? Insurance fraud? The endless possibilities swirled around his head until he read further.
It wasn't until the MD had released the coroner's report with the smoke in the lungs of the charred remains belonging to Cassy Cole, plus signs of restraints around her wrists that an arson investigation had been opened in conjunction with a homicide investigation.
"Christ," his throat felt raw.
If Michelle hadn't known that Cassy had been murdered, then it stood to reason that Angel didn't know either.
It didn't seem like something Angel would keep from her best friend.
He'd called Michelle, having called round to the coffee shop, and spoken to Sienna to get her personal number.
Conner didn't want this delicate sort of information to come from a friend.
Angel needed to hear it from an official, and he took that role upon himself, instead of relaying it back to the officer in charge back in Miami.
He could see that an attempt had been made to contact Miss Lew to update her, but she had disappeared.
His heart jumped again when he saw that she had been briefly assumed as a suspect, but that had been dropped as soon as they'd received footage of Angel stuck at the airport in New York after her missed flight at the supposed time the fire had been started.
They hadn't pursued in following up with her.
That he gave them an earful for. Shoddy police work is what it was.
Before hanging up with the detective on the case, he told them he would handle breaking the news to Miss Lew.
He'd then been tied up with a neighborhood land dispute over boundary lines for the remainder of the day, before crashing into his bed just after sunset.
His dreams plagued him.
He saw Angel lying naked in a pool of blood, calling out to him to kiss her, and he tried to run to her, but his legs were stuck in knee-deep bird droppings.
Her body was blurred out, so he couldn't see anything, other than her face.
Then there had been some weirdness with a giant cake she'd jumped out of, again, in that frustrating blurred out nakedness.
Right before he'd woken up, Angel had reached out to him, wrapped her arms around him, and was moving in for a kiss.
He'd awoken drenched in sweat, and twisted in his bed sheets; his raging erection mocking him.
He'd taken a cold shower to punish himself and to bring his libido under control. It helped little.
Walking into work just before nine, he'd headed straight for the coffee machine, to brew a fresh pot.
"Morning, sir!" Marie Fredericks, a woman in her early forties practically skipped to her desk. "How are you today?"
"Morning," he grunted, poured a cup of the hot black liquid, sipped, burnt his tongue, grimaced. "Fine."
"Oh, dear, someone's in a bad mood," she teased. "Guess I'd better give this bacon sandwich to someone else who's nicer to me then?"
"Marie, I love you," he smiled, mood brightening. "Gimme."
She handed him the still warm sandwich, and punched him in the arm. "Enjoy!"
She then poured herself a cup and turned back to her seat at the front desk.
Ever since she'd gotten engaged, Marie had come in to work each morning with a snack for herself and for whoever was on the early shift with her.
He didn't know what she was like before she'd gotten engaged, as this had happened shortly before his arrival, but the other men in the department had told him she used to be a bitch on wheels.
He was happy for her and her future husband, Peter.
He was happy for his stomach too. The station's coffee could burn a hole through concrete, and without the food she brought him each morning, he was sure to have developed an ulcer in the coming months.
He went to his office, and sat at his desk.
Conner picked up the file on the land dispute from the day before.
He'd resolved the issue temporarily by reminding the neighbors that if they couldn't come up with a solution themselves, they would have to settle it out through very costly lawyers.
He was sure the matter of the-fence-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-property-line-oh-yeah-well-your-tree-is-hanging-over-it-so-you'd-better-fix-it-before-I-fix-you would be resolved very soon.
Then he got called out shortly before ten to a report of a break in at the hardware store.
Not much had been stolen. The storeowner wasn't even sure anything was missing, he'd just seen someone fleeing with a big bag, presumably stuffed with stolen goods, when he'd arrived to open for the day. The cash in the register hadn't been touched. The broken window at the back of the store looked out into the preserve beyond, and in the direction the thief had disappeared.
Conner had taken the suspects details from the storeowner, and patched through on his radio.
"All units, be advised of a potential break in over at Al's Hardware. Suspect is wearing all black, and is carrying a large bag filled with items from the store. Over." He got the responses from his team out on patrol that they'd be on the look out, and from Marie that she would field any and all calls relating to a suspect matching that description.
The storeowner, Al, promised to contact him once he'd completed a stock count and to report the items stolen. Conner spoke to a few nearby storeowners, and any neighbors who were within sight of the store, which didn't turn out to be many. It was on a long and narrow stretch of road, with the buildings spaced out along it.
All had said they hadn't seen anything, except one.
Jenna.
She'd been in her bakery since five a.m., getting her pastries perfected. Her words, which she'd purred to him.
Her complete lack of modesty set his teeth on edge. He'd spent the previous two days coming into her bakery to get some treats for the station at lunchtime, as that is when the majority of them had their shifts overlapping, even on his day off on Saturday.
He'd avoided Angel's bakery in response to her avoidance of him.
He realized now that it may have been a mistake, as Jenna was responding to him as if it were his way of showing interest in her.
"Why don't you come inside for some coffee, Sheriff?" Jenna put her hand on his arm.
He was tempted by the coffee.
"No, thank you, ma'am," he cleared is throat. "Do you have any information regarding the suspect?"
"I saw the man running out towards the cemetery," she provided the useful information with a pout to his refusal of coffee.
She shook her head in response to his further questioning. She hadn't seen more than the fleeing figure.
"Thank you for your help," he tipped a finger to his brow and beat a hasty retreat.
By the time he made it back to the station, it was almost twelve.
He'd told Michelle he would be around to see Angel at about lunchtime. He hitched his breath.
Noon was lunchtime, right?
Sure.
He hesitated before calling to see if he could come over now. What if Angel was sleeping?
Then you can kiss her awake.
Stop, I'm serious.
So am I.
Deciding he would risk it, he told Marie where he would be, and that he had his cellphone on him.
He felt like a teenager.
His palms were sweating, and his heart was racing. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew how to act around civilians.
For god's sake, he knew how to act around women! So, then, why was his stomach knotting?
He put it down to the fact that he would be telling this woman about the death of her mother, in detail, as was required of him, and not because he would be seeing her again.
The drive lasted all of fifteen minutes, not nearly enough time for him to find the words that would surely shatter Angel.
When he pulled around and into Angel's driveway, he was glad to see that there were no birds anywhere other than up in the trees where they belonged.
He held his breath.
He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to do it.
This was the part he hated the most.
The stones in the driveway crunched underfoot as he made his way to the front door.
He knocked.
Conner only had a single moment to think before the door opened, and Michelle was smiling up at him.
"Hi, Sheriff," she stepped back.
"Conner, please."
Michelle smiled sweetly up at him, "Conner. Come on in."
He ducked through the door, and his eyes flew to the sofa, where he and Angel had been seated the day before.
The yellow blanket was rumpled, as if the person who had been sitting under it had just thrown it off.
Michelle watched as his eyes travelled quickly around the room before locking on Angel walking down the hallway.
Her own heart did a flip in her chest as she saw the brief flash of tenderness that washed over his face.
It was gone before she blinked.
She turned to see her friend walking towards them, fiddling with the buttons on her dress, looking spectacular with the cinched in waist of the garment. Michelle had chosen it specifically to show off the curves Angel so often kept hidden.
Michelle bubbled when she noticed Conner's eyes travel the length of Angel's body.
Oh, yeah. He definitely wants her.
When Angel looked up and saw Conner, she froze.
It was an intense moment, the air almost crackled with electricity. Michelle broke it by clearing her throat.
Now she knew for certain where they stood with each other. This matchmaking business was fun!
"Tea or coffee anyone?"
"Uh-hm, tea, please," Angel tore her eyes away from Conner to look towards Michelle, her voice catching on the first syllable.
"Coffee would be great," Conner followed them into the kitchen. "Thanks."
While they made their hot drinks, and the tension grew around her, Michelle pretended not to notice anything amiss.
She wanted to laugh, and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep quiet.
Then she remembered why Conner was there, and her humor vanished. She desperately wished they didn't have to go through this. Her stomach knotted, knowing this wasn't going to be pleasant.
Once they'd seated themselves in the front room on the L-shaped sofa, Conner broached the subject slowly.
He explained the reason why he'd spoken to Michelle about the two incidents involving her car, and the birds, and what he suspected.
Then Michelle took over, after giving Conner a questioning look and getting his nod in return, explaining about them discussing action movies and Jackson.
"It's okay, I went in there earlier today to see her. And I watched her on the telly this morning. It's okay," Angel smiled.
Michelle winced, knowing that this would hit harder now, now that Angel had finally gotten around to facing her mother's memory.
Michelle turned to Conner, and grimaced. "Say it quick. Go."
Angel frowned between the two. "What's going on?"
And then Conner, in a professional and sympathetic manner, laid all the facts on the table.
How the evidence had led them to arson, and murder.
How the cops in Miami had suspected her, but thanks to airport security, she was in the all clear.
When he was done, he took a long sip of his now tepid coffee.
Angel had blanched as he'd spoken, and now burst into tears.
She turned into her friend's waiting arms, and buried her face for a solid two minutes, sobbing loudly. Michelle cried with her friend. It was awful.
And then it wasn't.
When her shudders subsided, she looked at Conner, leaned over and took his hand. "Thank you," she sniffled and smiled. "Thank you so much."
"Are you alright, sweet?" Michelle rubbed her back, while Angel continued to hold Conner's hand.
Conner appeared taken aback by the way Angel had responded. He'd clearly expected the tears, but he hadn't expected her gratitude. Michelle, too, found it odd.
"I'm perfect," she laughed.
"Oh, my god," Michelle looked at Conner seriously, thinking of the previous day's accident. "The bump on her head broke her. She's not understanding you."
"I understand perfectly, Shelley," Angel stood up and moved to the other side of the coffee table to stare down at them, her arms swinging wide. "I understand now that I can stop holding myself accountable."
Before Michelle could say anything, Angel went on with her words growing stronger by the second; her voice raw with emotion. Conner could only stare at her.
"I thought I would have been able to save her if I hadn't missed my flight, because I would have been with her. We would have gone out and celebrated, and she wouldn't have been in there while the place filled with smoke, and she wouldn't have died in her sleep."
She stormed from one end of the room to the other. She looked as if the ends of her fingertips could shoot lightning.
Conner continued to watch her.
The only thought running through his mind as he watched her fiery tirade was, Damn.
"I finally understand," she pointed a finger first at Michelle, then at Conner. "I finally understand, that there is someone to blame for my mother's death. Someone to catch, someone to charge with murder, someone I can look at and hate. And justice can be served."
Conner exhaled loudly.
This woman was something else, and man-oh-man had she just earned a whole dose of his respect.
She was bursting at the seams, and when she looked at him next, Conner reacted to the intensity he saw in her face.
"We'll catch the son of a bitch," his voice was deep and rich. Serious.
"I have to say, Angel, I didn't expect this response from you." Michelle got up and put her arm around her friend's waist.
"I know, but I'm just so relieved," tears gathered at the corner of her eyes again, but she brushed at them impatiently. "I really couldn't have done anything. I've been torturing myself for eight months with 'what if's' and imagining how things would have been had I just been on time. The person, the monster, who did this, did it deliberately and I'm realizing now that there is nothing I could have done to stop it. I might have even been killed, too."
She put her arm around Michelle, then suddenly put more weight on her. "I'm so relieved."
Her breath whooshed out.
Conner watched as Michelle turned Angel's face towards hers and studied it closely for a moment, before sighing.
"Come on, that was a lot for one day. Mavis said you'd tire quickly today and tomorrow while the bruising healed."
Her head dipped in a gentle nod.
"Here, let me." Conner stood quickly, and scooped Angel up, again, and headed for the stairs.
He had some things he needed to clear up for himself.
"I appreciate the gallantry, really, but I can walk."
"It's not a problem, ma'am," he reverted to the cordial manner, as he needed a clear head when he spoke to her.
He didn't notice how her face dropped at his stern formality. Conner climbed the stairs quickly, while Michelle made herself scarce; he noticed her moving towards the spare room through the bannister railing as his long legs took two steps at a time.
He didn't pause this time upon entering Angel's room.
When he reached her bed, he set her down gently, seated, with her feet still on the floor.
He didn't see any lace panties lying about, thank god; though he couldn't stop his eyes from quickly scanning for them. At least now he could stop wondering if she was naked under this dress too, or not.
Who was he kidding? From now on, he would always wonder.
"Thanks for the lift," she said primly, with folded hands in her lap.
"Angel," he said her name softly, barely above a whisper. "Look at me when I say this." He crouched down in front of her, stopping himself before he placed his hands on her exposed knees. He raised his hands, awkwardly hovering above her legs, to run through his hair before resting his forearms on his thighs.
She raised her head, and brought her eyes to his neck.
Lifting one arm, and bringing a finger to her chin, he nudged her face upwards, so she locked eyes with him.
"The way you acted down there," he sighed, dropping his gaze to her knees, then back up to her face, roaming her features. "I'm very impressed by how you handled the news. You're an incredibly brave and strong woman."
"Uh, thanks?" She flushed. He couldn't know how his words affected her.
"I'm serious. A lot of people would have fallen apart at the news. In fact, I've seen a lot of tough men crumble under the weight of similar news I just gave to you. I've seen street brawlers broken by less." He stood up, and away from her. "You impress me."
Not comfortable with such high praise, she shrugged the shoulder on the opposite side to her injury, and rubbed her cheek against it. It was a childlike mannerism, and it lowered his guard.
"I have another question for you," this was said in a softer, more hesitant, tone. He moved to sit on the bed beside her.
She raised her hand and put the tip of her index finger into her mouth, closing her lips over the tip. She looked away from him.
Staring at the finger at her mouth, he asked her the one question that had been burning through him since he'd left her the day before.
"How old are you?"
Okay, that wasn't the question that had been haunting him. But it lead to the one that had.
Surprised she looked at him, her hand falling back to her lap. "I'm thirty. Why?"
He asked it quickly. Rip the band-aid, as it were. "Are you really a virgin?"
Her eyes rounded and rolled back before she scrunched her eyes closed. She brought a hand to her forehead. "Oh, god. I really said those things didn't I?"
"About 'no one wanting the virgin'? Yeah, you did," he wanted to smile, but didn't quite trust himself not to laugh at the awkwardness of the situation.
She groaned louder, and pulled her legs up under her on the bed.
"I'm sorry. I'm no good with pain medication. I say a lot of stupid things."
"So, it isn't true?" He asked lightly.
"Well, it is, and it isn't."
"How could it be both? Either you're a virgin, or you're not."
She huffed out a breath and hid her face completely in her hands for a moment, before dragging them down and returning them to her lap, where she fixed her gaze.
"I am."
"How is that possible?" He sat back, and rubbed a hand through his hair, mussing it. The dark locks fell forward to his brow, causing his knee-jerk response to flick his head to shake it. He needed to get it cut.
"Simple. I didn't want a reputation as a slut." She said it with indignation.
"Alright, I get that, but how would sleeping with, say, one person get you that reputation? Is it a religious thing? Saving yourself for marriage?"
"God, no!" She laughed. Suddenly seeming to be aware of where they were, and the topic of their discussion, Angel turned to him. "And it's none of your business frankly. I'm done talking about this." She turned her face from him, and crossed her arms defiantly.
Conner felt his blood boiling. Had she just dismissed him? His temper sparked. "Like hell it isn't."
"What did you say?" She spun to look at him, her eyes flying to his, the gold sparking.
"It is my business." He stared at her.
"Oh, yeah? How so? How is any of this your business?" She raised her eyebrow, licking her bottom lip before opening her mouth to berate him some more.
He couldn't handle it, not anymore.
Cutting off anything she might have said, he stood up, and turned to look down at her, and that petulant pout sent him over the edge. In one smooth motion he wrapped his hands around her upper arms, pulled her to her feet, and crushed her to his chest. "Shut up." He whispered.
And with that, he dropped his head and swooped her into a kiss. Her gasp caught in his mouth. Pulling back slightly, he looked into her eyes and saw all he needed to. Raw desire. Her breathing rapid, the sexy sound in her throat only spurred him on. He trailed his hands down her arms until he could circle her wrists. Her breath came in short puffs against his face while her chest rose and fell as she tried to steady her racing heart. He pulled her hands up and behind his neck, then ran his fingers down her arms again, so he could put his palms to her back, then slid them down to her sides.
He took a step towards her, pushing her backwards gently, guiding her with his hands on her hips, all the while keeping her eyes fastened on his; dancing the dance only lovers knew. He used his body to translate what he was feeling.
When they reached the wall, he felt her fingers tighten on the collar of his shirt. She got the message.
Releasing one hip, he raised that hand above her head and used it as support against the wall as his other slid across her lower back, pulling her up against him swiftly, purposefully.
The movement wrought another gasp from her. Their eyes continued to bore into each other, and in each, they saw the promise of pleasure.
Breath shuddering, Angel's body started to respond to his.
Was this really happening? Was she awake? Oh, god, if this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up. Ever.
It was all so full of torture, both of them pressing closer to one another, staring into each other's eyes; neither of them daring to look away. She thrilled at the hardness that had brushed against her hip earlier, and was now flush against her, pulsating.
She could still taste him on her lips from that brief initial contact. That far-too-quick of a kiss. Wanting more, she licked them and pulled them into her mouth, not realizing what she did to his insides when he saw her tongue.
She moved her hips against him, testing. A sound escaped him on his next breath, low and guttaral, his throat worked as he restrained himself, and she watched, fascinated, as his pupils dilated. She felt powerful.
It wasn't enough.
She needed more, now. Almost climbing onto him, she pulled his head down and whimpered into his mouth. His hand swept up her back to come up to the base of her neck, being careful around her bandage. It brushed downwards again as she parted her lips, and sucked his tongue into her mouth.
He moaned now, louder. The sound reverberated into her throat as Conner dropped the hand that had been against the wall, to close over the globe of her bottom and push himself against her fully.
At the contact, she tore her lips from his and threw her head back, exhaling audibly.
He closed him mouth over the skin exposed on neck. Her lids fluttered as she soaked in the pleasure of his tongue pressed to her neck. God, It was glorious.
In the next instant, he pulled at the backs of her legs, and she found herself lifted, and wrapped around him. He'd picked her up.
Her arms were still around his neck, and now her legs had locked around his waist. The position brought the very center of her flush against his groin, thrilling her. Bringing her mouth back to his, she writhed against him as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth; his tongue swirling over the sensitive nerve endings there.
The pressure of his length behind the zipped jeans, plus the friction as he moved back towards the bed, his tongue, it all became too much. The backs of his legs hit the bed and he dropped to sit there on the edge, holding her closer. Angel brought her feet down onto the bed, and used the leverage to change the angle of the friction between them. As his tongue tortured hers, a hand snaked around and closed over her breast. He raked a fingernail over the precipice, and all her senses collided, and sent her soaring.
The orgasm ripped through her, taking him by surprise, delighting him. He deepened the kiss around her mewls of pleasure, rocking her against him to prolong the moment.
Her dress fell away to expose her thighs as she dropped her legs behind him, and he ran both his hands on either leg up under the material to clasp her butt. A laugh bubbled up in his chest.
She broke her fevered kiss to look at him. He ran his hands up her back, under the dress, caressing her warmed skin.
"What's so funny?" Was that her voice? She was shocked to hear the raspy low tone.
"The idea of you not wearing underwear yesterday drove me mad," he smiled, bringing his hands back down to her cotton-clad bottom. "I'm both relieved and disappointed to find you wearing these." He popped the elastic lightly.
She smiled in response, and nuzzled his neck. "Why would you be relieved?"
"Because it makes ending this a whole lot easier," he sighed.
She blinked, halting her amorous actions. Angel slipped off his lap to sit next to him, suddenly feeling very raw, and exposed, one leg still across his lap, trapped under his large hands.
She didn't know what to do, or to say to him. She was so confused.
He'd initiated the kiss. Admittedly, it had spiraled into something more, much more, but he'd been a willing participant, hadn't he?
"I'm not the right one for your first time, Angel," he said softly.
"Can I ask why not?"
"I was raised by a southern belle to be a gentleman. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings when I say this, but my upbringing dictates certain things." He took her hand, and said, "I wouldn't feel right taking your virginity without offering you something more. I don't even know if I have more to give."
When she blinked at him and still said nothing, he continued. "I lost a lot while I was deployed. I did things I'm not proud of, and I don't think I could stand the responsibility of walking you through your first time. I do still want to be your friend, though."
Insulted beyond measure, Angel got to her feet and pointed to the stairs.
"You need to leave. Now. I am no man's responsibility. I won't be an obligation. I just want to be wanted," she pursed her lips. The acid in her stomach threatened to surge up her throat, so she clamped her jaw shut, then said through clenched teeth. "Get out."
He'd ruined a wonderful experience for her. Obviously catching on to how he'd messed up, he got to his feet. He turned to her.
Seeing his swollen lips, she ached all over.
"Angel, let me try explain better."
"You explained perfectly. You wouldn't be able to handle the guilt of taking something from me, without giving me something back. You'd feel responsible for me, and obligated to care for me." She snorted, forcing the tears back. "No, thanks."
He opened his mouth, but shut it again when his gaze met hers. Was that remorse in his eyes? Longing? No, she had to be imagining things. He'd just told her he didn't want her.
"By the way, Conner," Angel waited until he looked at her from the top step. "It isn't something you could have taken. It's something I would have given you. Gladly."
She turned to storm to the bathroomn, not waiting to see how her words affected him, and he went down the stairs and straight out the house, slamming the door behind him.
Angel punched the wall when she heard his car drive off, and braced herself over the basin.
The rollercoaster of emotions she'd had today suddenly left her exhausted.
She opened the medicine cabinet, found some of the stronger medicine she'd used after she'd had her appendix removed, and popped two, drinking it down with water straight from the tap.
She stripped as she walked back to the bed, and fell into the bed, falling asleep in less than two minutes; Conner's face burning in her mind.