4. Daisy
Chapter four
Daisy
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Angel asked before taking over and doing the dishes for me.
He didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t have one for him.
He is here and showed up when it counted.
That says something about his character.
Then again, that was never in doubt. He’s not a bad guy, just afraid of commitment.
The question running through my head now is whether he took the assignment for me or because he needs to prove to the CIA that he’s a team player?
The sad thing is, I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
If Angel came for me, then I might be stupid enough to give him another chance to break my heart.
I don’t let people get close to me because I know what it’s like to have a life snatched away.
I’ve lived so long keeping people at arm’s length to protect myself that I don’t know how else to be; even if I desperately want the connection.
On the flip side, if he didn’t come for me, then a part of my heart is already broken because I’d be nothing more than an assignment to Angel.
It would leave an opening for him to walk away when the case is closed.
That’s the goal: to close this case once and for all.
To do that, I need to get into the right headspace and focus on the mission, not a love life I’ve always wanted but never thought I could have.
The truth is, I understand Angel’s fear of living two lives, never fully sharing all of yourself.
It’s why I forgave him so easily once he explained.
But that forgiveness doesn’t change our circumstances, hence why friendship is all I can offer.
I gently tiptoe into the bathroom to change into my running clothes, trying not to wake Angel.
He’s sleeping on the sofa bed with a poor mattress that has seen better days.
The bar in the middle poking through can’t be comfortable for the man who’s just a hair over six feet tall and has his ankles hanging off the edge.
Angel’s groan of discomfort as he rolls over is proof of that.
“I’m awake,” he says in a groggy voice. “No need to be quiet on my account.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, hugging my change of clothes to my chest. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t wake me. I’m not sure I actually got any sleep.” When he sits up and stretches, a loud crack from his back bounces off the walls as he groans, “Goodness, I sound like I’m 80 years old.”
Angel’s body may sound like old bones, but he definitely doesn’t look it; not with his defined pecs and six-pack abs that force me to look away to hide my rosy cheeks.
Now I see why his parents named him Angel.
He’s male beauty personified. Chiseled to the last detail.
The only other time I’ve seen a man as gorgeous as Angel was Uri.
It’s been twenty years since my path crossed with his and just as long since I’ve heard a voice in my head.
I still think of Uri frequently, occasionally wondering if I simply imagined a rescuer when I needed help the most. Interestingly enough, not once have I ever gotten butterflies in my stomach when I picture his face; just a sense of peace, comfort, and an urge to pray.
That is not the feeling I get when I look at Angel. Nope. Not in the slightest. Sharing a one-room cabin isn’t helping matters. “If you’d gotten a bigger cabin, then you wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
Angel reaches for the back of his neck and grips it tightly. The heat creeping across his jawline tells me that he’s embarrassed by his actions, yet also a clear indicator that his decision for the one-room cabin was intentional. “About that….”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “You don’t have to explain. I’d choose the same location for security. The only way to get close is on foot, which gives us a definite advantage against any would-be attackers.”
He glances down at his feet. “Yeah, there’s that.
In the spirit of honesty, I hoped that the close quarters would put you in a position in which you had no choice but to hear my apology.
Who knew all it would take is a simunition round to the thigh and several hours of being unable to move a muscle? ”
A laugh bubbles up and escapes me. “Let me guess, your sister put you up to it? This has her meddling fingerprints all over it. Now that she’s engaged, she’s going to marry off everyone else.”
Angel rubs a hand over his jaw, looking almost sheepish. “Actually, it was Grace’s idea. She told me how sharing a cabin with Scott forced them to work out their differences and come to an understanding. Since it ended up well for them, Grace thought it might for us too.”
I give him a long look before turning toward the bathroom. “Everyone’s a sucker for a happy ending and fancies themselves a matchmaker.”
Angel flips the covers and pads across the small space toward the coffeemaker, his flannel pajama bottoms hanging perfectly on his hips. “Well, I’m a sucker for some caffeine. Want some?”
“Do we have cream and sugar?” I ask. I can drink it black if I have to, but I like a little sweetness to offset the bitter taste and a dash of milk to neutralize the acidity.
“On my way here, I stopped off at the grocery store and picked up that caramel creamer you like.”
Ooh, that’s a check in the “win” column for Angel.
I’d only mentioned my love of caramel creamer when we were down in Colombia one time while we were on pins and needles waiting for Jaxon to rescue Faith.
Of course, we didn’t have any flavored creamer, but I made do with a ten-year-old can of sweetened condensed milk I found in the cabinet.
It’s sweet that Angel remembered such a trivial detail.
“You just became my new best friend,” I tease.
Angel reaches for the bag of ground coffee and the filters from the cabinet as I leave to change into my running gear. Under his breath, I hear him say, “It’s a start, Lord. It’s a start.”
“Come on Zurkowski, pick up the pace,” Angel goads as the breath in my lungs crystallizes with every inhale.
Another thin layer of snow fell overnight, creating a frost-dusted landscape as the flakes stick to the pine needles.
It’s breathtaking in the most literal sense as I fight against the freezing temperatures and see a cloud of vapor each time I exhale.
“Slow and steady wins the race,” I retort, pumping my arms and lengthening my stride despite my comment. It’s only one more mile into town, and there’s a diner with waffles calling my name.
Angel slows down so I can catch up, which annoys me more than it should.
I run five miles almost every morning before heading into the Southern Knight offices in Charleston, as well as any chance I get while working on a case.
The one thing I learned from experience is that endurance can mean the difference between life and death when you have to run for your life.
With one last burst of energy, I sprint past him and shout, “Last one to the diner buys breakfast!”
Five minutes later and running on fumes, the diner comes into view. I’m all smiles until Angel jogs ahead of me. The worst part about it is that he’s not even winded.
Out of breath and hands resting on my head as I walk off the six-mile run, I tell him, “You… aren’t… human.”
He presses his hand against a bare tree in front of the restaurant and stretches his quads and calves. “I’m just used to the cold weather. I grew up not half an hour from here. Three months of sunshine in the summer was a blessing. Nine months of rain and snow are the norm.”
“That’s horrible!” I joke.
Angel smiles and gestures at the evergreen trees all around us.
“It’s worth it for scenery like this. In my humble opinion, the Pacific Northwest has some of the most beautiful countryside in the world.
Volcanoes, forests, and waterfalls make this area a backpacker’s paradise.
And don’t forget the stars. Without the light pollution from the cities, they fill up the sky so that there are more stars than there is empty space. ”
I glance up at the overcast sky. “Don’t you mean when you can see them?”
He chuckles. “Fair point. One can practically guarantee there will be cloud cover when a major astronomical event occurs. Growing up here means I’ve missed almost every comet, meteor shower, and eclipse.”
“My family would always drive north of Sacramento to see stuff like that because the haze from the city’s air pollution, as well as the bright lights, would wash out the night sky.”
“Where did you move to after… um… the uh….” he stutters.
“Abduction?” I lunge forward to stretch my hip flexors and quadriceps, holding the pose for half a minute before switching legs. “I thought you read my file.”
“There wasn’t much in the file that the FBI gave to the CIA. Even in the real file that Roger gave me a month ago, names and locations weren’t listed. If Grace hadn’t told me your names so that I could help, then I’d still be in the dark.”
I jump up and down to warm my body, shaking out my limbs to get the blood flowing.
The cold air feels even colder against my sweaty clothing as it rapidly cools down.
“Brrr! Why don’t we go inside and get something to eat?
I can fill you in on some of the missing details. Apparently, breakfast is on me.”
“The joys of a company credit card,” Angel says, opening the door for me.
Vinny waves us over to the booth he’s sitting in, sipping his cup of coffee. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’s occupying the center of one side of the booth, thereby forcing Angel and me to sit side-by-side on the other.
“Again I say, everyone’s a matchmaker,” I mumble as I slide into the booth.
“Or everyone knows how great we could be together.”
As I open my mouth to say something snarky like, “They’ve probably run out of quality entertainment and decided we’re the next best thing,” or “They’re looking for a reason to place a bet,” Angel places his palm at the small of my back.
It works as intended because his gentle touch instantly quiets any of my rambling thoughts.
“As friends,” he adds with a whisper, then winks.
That wink! Darn it! It sends tingles shooting through my body, which is the last thing I need right now. And from the smile on his face, he knows it!
I give myself a mental pep talk. “Focus, Daisy. Remember that you’re here to catch a kidnapper; not fall for the hunky CIA agent… again. Stay strong! Eyes as blue as the summer sky are a dime a dozen. There’s no reason to get lost in his!”
Once we’re seated, I grab the menu from behind the variety of sweeteners, jellies, and pancake syrup to look anywhere other than at Angel.
“Pleasant run?” Vinny asks us.
“I’m surprised you didn’t join us,” Angel replies.
“For starters, it’s freezing and there’s snow on the ground.
Don’t forget I spent more than a decade in Colombia where the weather is much warmer year-round.
Sure, it gets chilly in Bogotá during the winter, but rarely does it ever feel like stepping outside is a bad tactical decision,” Vinny quips.
“Besides, I did an hour of calisthenics to get the blood pumping before the sun came up. I’ll leave the running to you young pups. ”
I lift one eyebrow at him. “Young pup?”
Angel grins and then flags down the server. “He still calls me ‘Kid.’ Vinny refers to Faith as ‘Squirt,’ and my three brothers, Jordan, Benjamin, and Seth, as WIPs.”
“WIPs? As in ‘whippersnappers?’”
Vinny smiles, a juxtaposition from the serious CIA agent our team has worked with before. There’s a carefree attitude about him that wasn’t there when we first met. “Not ‘whippersnappers.’ ‘Works in progress.’”
“Aren’t we all?” I say as the server comes over to take our order and introduces herself as Dottie.
“Hey, Hon. Now that your kids are here, are you ready to order?” she asks Vinny.
“They’re not my kids,” he tells her. “Not biologically. I’ve never been married except to my job.”
Dottie cocks her hip and flashes her pearly whites. “That’s a right shame. You seem like the kind of guy with the protective gene rather than a possessive one. Add in that handsome and trustworthy face, you’re sure to have broken many hearts without even knowing it.”
Vinny blushes. “I’m not sure how you can tell all that from me ordering a cup of coffee, but thank you for the kind assessment.”
“I’m the owner of this fine establishment and have been working here for 45 years. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, watching people come and go, you get a sixth sense and a fine ability to read people.”
Angel jumps in and throws Vinny under the bus. “My uncle is retiring soon. He won’t be married to the job much longer. He’s available to take you out to dinner.”
“Who’s matchmaking now?” I ask under my breath, trying not to laugh at Vinny’s discomfort. I haven’t known him for long, but in the short time I have, he’s been composed, steady, and reliable. Seeing him flustered absolutely makes my day.
Not missing a beat, Dottie says, “I get off at five. There’s a barbeque restaurant 15 minutes down the road. Do you like ribs?”
Vinny’s eyes flick toward Angel before he turns back to Dottie, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I love ribs.”