Faithless Angel (9 page)

So young, and so undeserving …

She closed her eyes to the thought, her mind filled with another image—a young girl with dark hair and lightly tanned skin and an entire future ahead of her.

Sorry we can’t do more
.

Severe trauma …

Sorry
…

Faith’s eyes snapped open to the sudden lash of rain against the hospital window. Water began running in thick rivers down the tinted glass. Her gaze went to the nasty abrasion on Daniel’s cheek, obviously from the fall.

Correction—jump. Suicide. Daniel had
wanted
to hurt himself. To kill himself.
Three suicide attempts
.

He wanted to die, and Jane had desperately wanted to live.

The realization brought a bitter smile to Faith’s lips. It was so unfair. Every day people took their lives, wasted them, while others yearned to live—

“What the hell are you doing here?” Daniel’s voice, a hoarse whisper, shattered the silence.

A wave of doubt swamped her and she tried to move, to back up. But his hand closed around her wrist with surprising strength and she froze.

Trapped
.

“I …” Faith swallowed against the sudden panic.

Panic, and he was only holding her wrist. Where had the feeling been yesterday when he’d held a knife to her throat?

She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and disengaged her hand. Unconsciously, her fingers stroked the spot on her wrist where he’d held her. “I was just looking in on you. How are you feeling?”

“Alive, unfortunately.” Accusing blue eyes glared up at her. “Couldn’t mind your own business, could you?”

“Why did you do it?” As if he could answer, she thought. As if any explanation could help her understand why he was so eager to give up what Jane had fought so desperately for.

“Why not?” he countered, the question flip, cold, and Faith felt the irony gripping her harder. “You think living in some hellhole with strangers is better?”
He shook his head, his words dripping with venom. “Go on back to your kids, lady. I don’t need your pity, or your help. Just leave me alone.”

She would have gone, but something—something wrought from years of pushing and fighting and helping—prodded her on. And, of course, his eyes—they were so wide and belligerent and …
needy
.

“I’m here, Daniel, and I want to help you.” The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. “But you have to want that help. You have to meet me halfway. You have to reach out.” She touched him, a gentle hand on his good arm.

He jerked away as if she’d zapped him with a cattle prod, and the concern that had spread through Faith evaporated.

“I don’t want your help,” he said in a growl, the words like a stinging slap in the face. “I can do what I want, and you can’t stop me.” Those pale blue eyes burned into her, stoking her frustration. Her anger.

He was right. She couldn’t stop him, even if she did want to. The raw truth sawed through her like a dull blade, Daniel’s pain stirring her anger at an unseen God who could snatch a life from someone with a passion for living, all the while letting someone else throw their precious existence away. Most of all, she felt hatred for herself because she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t keep Daniel from throwing his life away, any more than she’d been able to keep Jane’s from slipping away.

“Get the hell out of here, Miss Do-gooder,” Daniel sneered. “Just leave….”

She whirled and raced for the door. His voice followed her “You ain’t wanted here, lady. Go on and run, and keep running. Keep away from me.”

It isn’t fair!
The cry echoed from deep in her soul
and she stabbed the security button with trembling fingers. A split second later, the door opened.

Faith rushed past the nurses’ station, down the hallway, oblivious to the gray-haired nurse who called her name. The double doors buzzed open, and she left the psychiatric unit behind, fleeing through the hospital like a woman being chased by the devil himself.

But there was no devil. No God. No heaven.

Ah, but there was a hell. And she was caught in it.

She couldn’t hold on any longer. I’m sorry, Ms. Jansen. Sorry … Sorry … Sorry …

She ran out an emergency exit and into the wet night, frantically searching for a place to run, to hide. Her boots slapped the pavement, splashing water and drenching her leggings. The darkness pressed in, suffocating her and making her breath come in short, harsh gasps. The rain beat down at her, but it couldn’t drown the memories, or quench the fire that raged inside, burning up the numbness she’d fought so hard for.

Fight, Jane!
she’d begged and pleaded. All for nothing. Nothing … in the face of death.

Or rejection.

She’d failed before. She’d reached out to problem children only to have them turn away, run away, go back onto the streets. The lost ones haunted her, preyed on her conscience, chipped away at her determination to make a difference; then death had dealt the final blow to her stamina.

“Why?” she cried, skidding to a halt. She slammed her fists against an abandoned storefront. The wood boarding up what was left of the front window cut into her clenched fists, scraped at her skin. Still, she
pounded again and again and again until her hands were throbbing and bleeding. But the pain wasn’t enough to block out reality.

Jane was gone, and there was nothing Faith could do.
Nothing …

“Faith.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. At first she thought she’d imagined it, but then she saw large hands close over her fists, felt a massive chest pressed to her back, and heard Jesse’s familiar voice. “Accept it, Faith. Accept it and let go or it’ll eat you alive.”

“Leave me alone,” she cried, echoing Daniel’s words, her voice fierce, raw with a hurt she yearned to ignore. “Just leave me the hell alone!”

“You need to grieve and get on with your life. She’s gone. Admit it and let her go. Just let her go.”

She shook her head frantically and wrenched her hands from his. Whirling, she lashed out at him, anger and pain and fear making her fight when she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and dissolve into the mud puddle beneath her feet. Anything to escape the damned compassion that gleamed in the dark depths of Jesse Savage’s eyes.

“Let her go?” Her tears came harder, faster, pouring down her cheeks as forcefully as the rain that hammered down around them. “I shouldn’t have to let her go! Don’t you understand that? Her body healed and she made it through the nightmares, even though she couldn’t remember anything. She deserved to live, to have a second chance. It’s not fair that she made it through all that and now she’s gone!”

He caught her fists again and yanked her up hard against him. For a fraction of a moment, he stared down at her. He stared long and hard and deep, the compassion gone, replaced by a pain so intense it
made Faith want to scream. She knew that pain. It was her own.

Something flickered in his dark eyes; then he whispered, the sound barely audible above the rain, “I know what you’re feeling. I know what it’s like to lose somebody close to you. To love them and lose them. I know.” And then his mouth swooped down and his lips captured hers.

She froze in shocked silence for the space of a heartbeat as his mouth searched hers. Then she felt something pass between them, like a jolt of electricity from two live wires that touched, sparked, fused.

Her lips parted, but it wasn’t an act of surrender to his plundering mouth. No, it was one of desperation. She’d been so cold inside since Jane’s death, so dead, and now she wanted to feel warm, alive, vital, and Jesse Savage made her feel all those things, and more.

It was as if he knew just how to soothe her grief and draw her past the invisible wall she’d built around herself, as if he knew what haunted her, as if he’d faced the same demons himself and had found a way to fight them.

His tongue slipped past her lips, tangling with hers, sucking and stroking until heat shot from her nipples to her belly, and lower still. She could feel the powerful muscles of his chest beneath her palms. His scent—raw male and the sharp smell of danger—filled her senses, intoxicated her. His body’s warmth seeped through the cotton of his T-shirt to scorch her as fiercely as his mouth.

His breath became her breath, his strength her strength, his sadness—

The thought shattered as he jerked away from her, his chest heaving, his dark eyes wild with passion and something else. Disbelief? Regret?

“It’s raining,” he said, his voice gruff. “We’d better get out of here.” He thrust his hands into his pockets.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She felt too strange. Shaky. Unsure of herself. Like nothing she’d ever felt because of one measly kiss.

She’d kissed men before. She’d gone even further than that with Max, her college boyfriend. But nothing, not Max’s kisses, or even his lovemaking, had made her feel the way she felt now. As if she’d been standing in the middle of a train crossing and come within inches of being crushed. Her entire body felt exhilarated. Alive!

Her heart beat rapidly. A tingling rush of warmth covered her skin despite the rain that slashed at her. She touched her hands to her cheeks, her palms seared by the heat in her face. Yes, definitely alive.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” Jesse didn’t touch her again. Instead, he turned and walked up the block toward the Suburban parked near the curb. He didn’t even glance back to see if she followed. He knew. She could tell by the stiff way he moved, his shoulders hunched beneath his jacket. He felt her presence as keenly as she felt his.

The ride home was silent. The streets passed in a blaze of lights that Faith barely noticed. She tried to keep her eyes on the road in front of her, but her gaze kept straying to him.

He sat like a stone statue, the only movement that of a tiny muscle that jumped in his jaw. His dark hair hung in wet tendrils past his shoulders. Raindrops fell from his hair to run in tiny rivulets down his forehead, the chiseled slope of his cheek, until they disappeared in the overgrowth of stubble that covered his jaw. The moisture caught the passing lights, sculpting his features in a colorful dance of
shadows that made him look all the more dangerous.

Dangerously attractive she admitted to herself. He really was good-looking, in a rebellious, bad-boy sort of way. She’d never been drawn to men like him. The few times she’d actually been attracted to anyone, they’d been the three-piece-suit types, with college degrees and nice substantial bank accounts. Men like her father had been.

Jesse Savage certainly didn’t wear a suit. And she’d be willing to bet he’d didn’t have enough money to fill a piggy bank, much less a bank account.

Still, there was something about him. Something that demanded her attention. A connection between them, as if they related on a different level, one that went below the superficial clothes, looks, and wealth society used as criteria to label people. Yes, Jesse touched something far beneath the surface.

“Why did you come after me?”

“I was worried,” he said without sparing her a glance.

“But
why?
You don’t even know me, and I don’t know you.” She held up her hand when he started to protest. “I know your name and I know you like kids. That’s it. I don’t know where you’re from, what you did before coming to Faith’s House, whether or not you’re married….” She cut him a sideways glance. “You’re not married, are you?”

He shook his head and relief swept through her.

“Where are you from?”

“Restoration.”

“Restoration?”

“A small town on the other side of Fort Worth. I moved to Houston last year.” The words were so low she almost didn’t hear him. It was as if he hesitated
to talk, to reveal anything about himself.

“And?”

“That’s it.” He frowned and Faith could practically feel the tension pouring off him. “I’m not really much of a talker.”

“It’s not that difficult. You just open your mouth and let the words go. So you have a brother and sister, right?”

He shot her another glance, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Had,” he finally said. “They were killed shortly after we moved here. I’ve spent the past year … wandering, I guess you could say. I needed a job and I saw your ad in the paper. That’s it,” he finished, yet his words had softened, his expression was not as severe, as if talking about himself hadn’t been as difficult as he’d anticipated.

“Did you ever work with kids before?”

He shrugged. “A little volunteer work, but I stayed pretty busy supporting my brother and sister. Our mom died when they were barely out of diapers. I was a senior in high school at the time.”

“What about your dad?”

“He was never really in the picture.” His jaw tightened again and Faith had the insane urge to reach out and touch him, to soothe away the expression. The pain …

Her fingers dug into the folds of a sweater she’d picked up as she sought a distraction. “So what did you do after high school?”

Her question seemed to distract him from his troubling thoughts. The lines of his face eased. “I went on to another job, and part-time college classes at a small community college in Fort Worth. I worked during the day, went to school at night.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It never seemed that hard. Whenever I started to
burn out or give up, all I had to do was look at my brother and sister. They pretty much kept me going. I was all they had and they were all I had.”

“What happened to them?”

Her question met with the screech of brakes as Jesse swung into her driveway and brought them to a jolting halt.

“We’re here.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, the motor idling as he waited, rather impatiently, she guessed, when the twitch of the muscle in his jaw seemed to speed up. The tension was back, twining around him, pushing everything else away.

“Looks like we are.” She pulled at the door handle, her fingers suddenly clumsy. After three attempts, she finally shoved the door open.

“I could walk you inside—” he started, but the “No!” she blurted out killed the rest of his sentence.