Her spine rounded, following my hand. “You are so warm.”
I moved closer to her to offer more heat with my thighs.
Her moans were full of gratitude. “Angel? Can you put your heat on my belly?”
“Uh.” I reached out with my hand but that had me needing to turn on my side, almost spooning her. As inappropriate as it looked, Scarlett didn’t know nor care.
She sighed, “Oh, that is so much better,” holding the top of my hand, pushing my palm tighter to her stomach.
Of course, Sal had to enter and give his opinion. Smirking, he lifted a brow. “Who were you to say no, eh?” He told Scarlett, “Here is some peppermint tea for your tummy.”
I lifted a brow while mouthing, “Tummy?”
He flicked me off then left the room. “I’m getting some sleep.”
While Sal rested, Scarlett asked many questions about her unfortunate event in the kitchen. “Why can I not eat the potato whole?” “Why did the Africa Lion hurt the beautiful animal?” But once she fell asleep, I slipped from her hold to return to my own room.
First, I stepped into the living room. Sal was asleep on the couch.
Tapping his shoulder, I said, “Your turn to watch. Give me an hour.”
Groggy, he sat up. “Of course. Get some rest.”
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out, but my rest would be short-lived. Scarlett’s scream had me shooting upright in my bed. In boxer shorts, I grabbed my gun and ran to her. Sal was already charging for her door. We both rushed in.
Believing her hands were bound again—due to being trapped in her nightmare—Scarlett stood at the head of her bed, begging for them to stop.
Who exactly? I didn’t know.
I don’t think I wanted to know.
The more I cared for Scarlett, the more her past torture ate away at me.
Sal winced at her torment. “Do we dare touch her?”
I had experience, due to her mother’s suffering. It wasn’t always wise to interfere. Sometimes a touch didn’t wake Isabella. Her mind only mixed it with her nightmare.
Feeling like I was repeating history, I sadly asked, “How do I fight these ghosts, Sal?”
With an expression of pure empathy, he touched my shoulder. “With faith.”
I took a deep breath and, as I had with her mother many times, I softened my voice. “Scarlett, can you hear me?” I lifted my chin and silently prayed for more guidance, as I said, “It is your Angel of the Night.”
Her crying… stopped.
Her eyes opened. “Angel?”
Sal grabbed his chest in relief.
I held my hand out for her to come to me. “Yes, you are safe now.”
As those delicate wrists separated again, she took timid steps across her mattress. “Nighttime scares me.”
I was beginning to wonder if all my talks and experiences with Isabella were to help prepare me for Scarlett. That thought had me understanding my feelings for Scarlett. I loved her mother. She was a woman to admire, due to her strength and determination, even when on the brink of despair. I wasn’t insane to care so deeply for someone I barely knew. That is because I did know Scarlett.
And I hated it.
Although Scarlett and Isabella were not the same people, due to the life of abuse they had been forced to live, and possibly even due to some inborn familial qualities, they were so eerily similar that knowing one meant knowing the other. Scarlett was much more innocent of the world as she had not experienced anything outside that basement. But other than that, they shared the same mannerisms, had the same fears, lived the same nightmares, and fought the same demons.
I wasn’t sure why at the time, but subconsciously, I sensed how painful caring for this woman would be. I had to fight for Isabella’s friendship. Her family didn’t want me close to her. How would they feel about me caring for Scarlett?
Let me tell you.
They would hate it, too.
I wished they could understand that spending moments with someone as they share their darkest secrets creates a formidable bond. Spending every day and waking minute with them, as I had with Scarlett? That person becomes a part of you. It was an impossible situation. To avoid caring more for Scarlett, I would have to be apart from her. To be apart from her would mean certain death. Sal and I were all she had. And if I left, Sal would most certainly follow.
In surrender, I told her, “You are so much like your mother.”
Her mouth—those perfect flared lips—parted in surprise. Soft fingers touched my sinned ones that had taken many lives. I felt my fingers had no right to touch the gentle spirit before me.
Exhaustion suddenly filled my soul as I nodded. “So brave.” I stared up at the beautiful female. “Just like you.”
A shaky hand covered her mouth as the kindest tears filled her eyes. “Like me?”
It took a lot of energy to inhale. “Yes. Just like you.”
Scarlett lowered to her knees. “Will you tell me more about her?”
My energy faded as my thumb caught a courageous tear on her lovely cheek. “Of course.”
Her face nuzzled into my hand. “Thank you.”
At the door, Sal dipped his chin and then left the room.
Whether I had the drive or not to talk, Scarlett and I talked until morning, sitting at the head of her bed. Scarlett’s head eventually fell to my shoulder. The sun was up. Her fear was gone.
Once again, I left the Giordano Princess to sleep.
In the living room, Sal was staring out a sliding glass window. He must have seen something in the dark. There was a gun in his hand, but how his fingers were relaxed, I knew it was a false alarm. “Would you like some coffee?”
Drained, I rubbed my short beard. “I can make some.”
“A pot has already been made.”
Walking to the kitchen, I saw a bone broth stewing in a pot. Sal was doing an old recipe to help Scarlett’s stomach. “You are so good for her.”
He kept staring out the window. “So are you.”
Because they weren’t true, those words annoyed me. “Part of the job, right?”
He puffed a laugh, but it lacked honesty. “Is that what that was?”
I grabbed a cup from a cupboard. “What, talking to her?”
He let out a slow exhale. “Since your father’s death, I’ve watched you change.”
My upper lip lifted. “I haven’t changed.”
“You pulled away. Now that I think of it, you were never the same after Noemi.”
I poured the coffee. “Sal, I am a bit too tired for this right now.”
“It only got worse once we got on the road, searching for Scarlett.”
I took a sip. “That’s called growing up.”
“Cold. You have become so cold.”
Since I felt the Devil was cold as ice, I took offense. “Not. True.”
Sal ignored me and said, “I did my best to keep shreds of the young man you used to be alive.”
I set down my mug, no longer wanting coffee. “Sal, I think I am going to get some rest.”
“I’ve watched you run from all the pain. The pain from your mother’s death. Noemi having to leave us… So many good reasons to run. I understand that.” He faced me. “But I won’t let you run from her.” He pointed to Scarlett’s room.