Page 36 of Kiss an Angel

With eyes that no longer seemed to belong to her, she saw all her weaknesses and inadequacies, the fears that kept her prisoner. She saw herself floating through her life of privilege, swept along by wills stronger than her own, afraid to confront, trying to please everyone except herself. The tiger’s eyes revealed everything she wanted to keep concealed.

And then he blinked.

The tiger.

Not her.

With a sense of astonishment, she watched the white markings on his ears disappear. He stretched his great body back down on the floor of the cage, where he regarded her with deadly gravity and delivered his own verdict.

You’re soft and cowardly.

She saw truth in the tiger’s eyes, and her moment of victory for having won their staring contest vanished, leaving her legs weak and rubbery. She lowered herself into the weeds, where she hugged her knees and sat silently watching, not quite so frightened, merely drained.

She heard the closing music from the final act and was dimly aware of the voices of the workmen as they moved around the lot, along with the noises of the concessions being packed away. She’d had so little sleep the night before that she grew drowsy. Her lids sagged but didn’t close. She propped her cheek on her knee and continued to watch the tiger through half-shut eyes as he watched her in return.

They were alone in the world, two lost souls. She felt every thud of his heartbeat. His breath seemed to fill her lungs, and gradually her fear evaporated. Instead, she experienced a deep sense of peace. Her soul melded with his—they became one—and at that moment she would have been happy to be his food and sustenance because no barrier existed between them.

And then—more rapidly than she could have imagined—her peace shattered, and she was hit by such an explosion of pain, she groaned aloud. In the farthest reaches of her mind, she understood the pain was coming from the tiger and not herself, but that made it no less acute.

Sweet Jesus. She clutched her stomach and doubled over. What was happening to her? Sweet Jesus, make it stop! It was too much to bear.

She slumped forward. Her cheek pressed into the dirt. She knew she was going to die.

As abruptly as the pain had come, it disappeared. She gasped for air. Trembling, she pushed herself to her knees.

The tiger eyes burned with quiet rage.

Now you know how a captive feels.

Alex was furious. He stalked through the lot with Sheba Quest at his side and a whip coiled in his fist. It was Saturday night, payday for the workers, and some of them were already drunk, so he carried his bullwhip as a deterrent. At the moment, however, it wasn’t the workers who were giving him difficulty.

“Nobody steals from me!” Sheba declared, “and Daisy’s not going to get away with this just because she’s your wife.” The low, clipped tones of the circus owner’s voice underscored her anger. Her red hair blazed behind her, and her eyes shot sparks.

Alex’s deathbed promise to Owen had placed him in a constant struggle of wills with his widow. Sheba Quest was his employer, and she was determined to push him as far as she could, while he was equally determined to honor Owen’s wishes. So far, it had been a series of compromises satisfying neither one of them, and open warfare had been inevitable.

“You don’t have any proof that Daisy took the money.”

Even as he spoke, he was angry with himself for trying to defend her. There was no other suspect. He wouldn’t have put it past her to take his money—she seemed to regard that as her due—but he hadn’t expected her to steal from the circus. It just showed that he was still capable of letting his sex drive interfere with his good judgment.

“Get real,” she snapped. “I checked the cash drawer after she came back on duty. Face it, Alex. Your bride is a thief.”

“I’m not making any accusations until I’ve had a chance to talk to her,” he said stubbornly.

“The money’s missing, isn’t it? And Daisy was in charge. If she didn’t steal it, why has she disappeared?”

“I’m going to find her and ask.”

“I want her arrested, Alex. She stole from me, and as soon as you find her, I’m calling the police.”

He stopped in midstride. “We don’t ever call the police. You know that as well as anyone. If she’s guilty, I’ll take care of her just like I’d take care of anybody else around here who breaks the law.”

“The last person you ‘took care of’ was that driver who was selling dope to the workers. There wasn’t a whole lot left of him when you were done. Is that what you’re going to do to Daisy?”

“Lay off.”

“You’re a real shit, you know that? You’re not going to protect your dopey little bimbo from this. I want every cent back, and then I want her punished. If you don’t do it to my satisfaction, I’ll make sure the law does.”

“I said I’d take care of it.”

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