The Halo Effect (Cupid Chronicles) Read online

  Then, as if she sensed his appraisal, she stopped her laughing banter with one of the old folks and turned smiling eyes to his. She was no girl. That much was obvious. She had wisdom in her icy blue eyes. How he knew that, he would never know. But he did.

  He couldn’t turn away as she broke from the group of people and made a beeline for him. She pranced like a fairy and bounced to a stop in front of him. She was barely bigger than he was. He was startled to see a small diamond stud through her nose and wings of some kind tattooed on her chest, barely peeking out from behind her filmy blouse the color of a ripe tangerine.

  “Hello,” she said in the cutest voice he’d ever heard.

  They both looked over as his mother came back to join them. The strange woman-child with supernatural eyes and a pixie haircut smiled at her.

  “Tristan,” his mom said, “I see you’ve met the new activities volunteer.”

  He shook his head dumbly wondering if he should be so quick to not want to come back. There was no way this little lady wouldn’t liven things up around here.

  “We were just introducing ourselves.” The woman offered him her hand. “I’m Ariel.” Her eyes seemed to speak volumes about a secret between them. He wished he was in on it.

  Noble rode like the Devil himself was after him. He got out of town and opened the throttle full bore. He needed the sense of freedom to center himself. It was his therapy.

  He let the wind whip its greedy fingers through his hair as he changed lanes and continued to head north. He just wished he could keep going and not have to turn back tonight. He’d love nothing more than to feel the cool Hill Country air kiss his skin as he rode the snake-like curves and dipping valley roads like a long, fanciful rollercoaster. He’d love nothing more than to be blessedly free.

  But, he was grateful that Jed and Kyle had returned from their honeymoon—though they were sickeningly doe-eyed and love struck—and let him have a night off. And it couldn’t have come at a better time as the letter from his grandfather weighed like a lead brick in his pocket.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d found him. Noble had left that life behind many years ago. But the letters had been coming more and more frequently lately. He’d trashed them all without opening a single one. He didn’t care what the drunk had to say to him. He could rot in that jail cell for all he cared.

  But this last one . . . this one he’d addressed to Baptiste Blackfeather, using Noble’s middle name. The more “traditional” white man’s name that his grandfather had always preferred to call him while growing up on the reservation. When he addressed him at all, anyway. Guess the old man knew that would get his attention. But why? What the hell did he want?

  Noble stuffed the questions to the back of his mind and sped up to pass a slow-moving big rig. He let the Harley’s big tires eat up the pavement mile-by-mile as his sense of peace returned. This was better than any pansy-assed yoga.

  Eventually, he slowed to turn around and head back to town. While he waited for a couple of cars to pass, he wondered what he would do with his time tonight since he didn’t have to go into work. Maybe he could hit his old park then head home for a frozen pizza. He couldn’t go over and bum around with Jed anymore now that the old chump was a married man, though he’d really love the chance to toss around his idea of buying into Gentry’s with him. But the timing wasn’t quite right. They’d just gotten back from their honeymoon and needed time to settle into their routine. There would be time soon enough.

  Idly, his thoughts drifted to Sweet Cheeks and her kid next door as he pulled into traffic heading back south.

  Damn if he hadn’t almost killed the kid tonight! And Mama Bear had been right there protecting her cub yet again. Hell, she was something else when she was fired up. And the poor kid went from being scared shitless to absolutely humiliated when his mom came over screeching like a banshee. Noble couldn’t really blame him. He’d seen the kid heading to and from the school bus most days. He seemed kind of quiet and a bit of a loner. At least until he blared that God-awful music from the garage doing whatever it was he did in there all the time. Man, the kid needed a music lesson. Journey, Boston, Peter Frampton, the Doobies . . . that was music. Classics. Not that inane, grinding crap he was killing his eardrums with over there.

  And Mommy. Phew, he thought as he sucked in a breath of the cool night air that he felt clear down to his lungs. Mommy was hot. No doubt about it.

  He’d dreamt of her. Nearly every night since tackling her boy in the garage last week, she’d haunted his dreams with her intense golden eyes, creamy complexion, and compact but voluptuous body. He didn’t know her name or anything about her, but she toyed with his subconscious in a way that was truly mind-blowing. Sure, she was cute. Pretty, even. And he was sure she must be a nice lady, if a bit overprotective. But what was it about her that had her so latched onto his dreams?

  He must be horny. That had to be it. He hadn’t been laid in way too long. Sure, he’d had ample opportunity with all the women flaunting themselves at the tattoo studio. Some all but stripping and throwing themselves at him. But he wasn’t up for that. Literally.

  But, man, he was up for Sweet Cheeks.

  He shook his head and accelerated with a vengeance to thrust her to the backburner. The cold of the wind stung his cheeks as he flew through a green light and headed for his destination.

  Forty minutes later he arrived at the abandoned neighborhood park with the neglected, old basketball hoop. It sat situated behind a basically forgotten subdivision that had been all but lost to the economic crisis; a lone park light illuminated the area with an eerie glow. Even the graffiti was old since the hoodlums didn’t even bother with the place anymore. Noble had found it on one of his stress-relief rides purely by accident and had been coming ever since. He enjoyed the pure, unadulterated solitude.

  He parked his bike and hopped off, shedding his jacket and pulling off his protective glasses. He ran his fingers through his ponytail, working out the tangles the wind had caused.

  He moved to sit on the solitary, creaky park bench. He reached beneath it, stretching into the dense overgrowth of bushes and weeds. There, right where he’d left it, was the old basketball. He pulled it out and picked it up. Time for more therapy.

  Without another thought, he jogged to the deserted court and began to run and dribble and dunk the ball with a physicality he couldn’t get from riding his bike. The steady drone of the bouncing ball reverberated loudly off the cement and the metal of the chain hoop clanked its lone applause as he swished in basket after basket. He worked until sweat was pouring down his face.

  Finally, he could ignore it no more.

  He strode back to the bench, tucked the ball back in its hiding place, and pulled his grandfather’s letter from his back pocket. He studied the handwriting and the postmark as his gut churned.

  He took a deep breath and ripped open the envelope. He yanked out the elementary school style lined paper with his heart in this throat.

  Baptiste . . .

  Noble studied and studied the stupid letter for several minutes as random words floated in front of his tear-filled eyes.

  Dreams.

  Forgiveness.

  Angels.

  He continued to study it until his head hurt. Until his heart hurt. Then he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the nearest trashcan.

  “Sorry,” he said as he rose and headed for his bike. “I don’t believe in angels.”

  Chapter 5

  Braelyn all but oozed out to her car in the school parking lot after the colossally bad day from hell. Brittany had called in sick so she’d been on her own with the kids today and they’d all been particularly rowdy. Daisy’s feeding tube had clogged again and she’d thrown up on herself. Jeremy’s mom forgot to pack the sacred Oreos in his lunch so he’d rebelled and stuck raisins up his nose.


  She could only thank God this day was over.

  As she walked, she realized her new shoes had caused a blister and one of her fingers had a hangnail. “Damn it!” she wailed, wanting to cry as she unlocked her door and tossed her purse inside. She’d skipped lunch, other than a few saltine crackers, so she was also nursing the beginnings of what was sure to be a magnificent headache.

  She slid inside and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Really? Could her day get any worse? She pumped the gas pedal a couple times and tried again. The engine tried to catch but sputtered helplessly. She laid her head on the steering wheel as tears began to course down her cheeks.

  She glanced up when her cell phone rang. She reached for it though she knew there was no way it could be good after the day she’d had.

  “Hello?” she croaked.

  “Miss Campbell?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Mrs. Baker, Tristan’s counselor. I’m calling because Tristan was sent to my office for being disrespectful to one of his teachers.”

  Braelyn’s heart sank. This was a new low. “I see,” she managed.

  “We’re very concerned, as you can imagine. Especially since he was just suspended for fighting and today was his first day back.”

  Fresh tears washed silently down her face as she listened to the counselor. She wondered what her son’s punishment would be this time. “I am, too. I’m very sorry. I’ll speak to him tonight.”

  “But, since the teacher has accepted your son’s apology, we’re going to let the incident go. This time,” Mrs. Baker emphasized. “But we can’t let disrespectful behavior become a habit. I’m sure you understand.”

  Braelyn sat up. “Yes, of course. I’ll take care of it.” Somehow.

  She thanked the counselor for her time and hung up, praying for some kind of miracle for her son. She hadn’t gone to all these lengths to move him thousands of miles from his father and Julian’s threats to start a new life for the both of them for her own health. She would never have done it if she’d have felt she had any other options to keep him safe. But, man, she could use a little help.

  “God, help me,” she urged, sending up a serious S.O.S.

  She wiped her hands on her pant legs, which she now noticed had small stains left over from Daisy’s vomit, and tried to start the car again. Please, please, please. Someone must’ve heard her prayers, because the engine turned over with a tentative roll before humming to life. She heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe her day was turning around.

  As she slowly drove out of the parking space and drove out of the lot toward home, she wondered what would be the best way to approach Tristan. Should she play the stern, disciplinarian and ground him until he was eighteen? Would the smother him with love tactic work better? Lord knew the kid was just acting out because of the mess with his father. She’d worked very hard to hide the threats with Julian. No need to frighten him.

  But she couldn’t just let it slide. As much as she wanted to crawl in a hole and hide, she had to be strong. She worked hard at being a good mother—at needing no one but herself. But, as much as she hated to admit it, sometimes it would be nice to have someone who could pick up the weight and carry the load for a little while. Just a little while. Maybe long enough for a bubble bath? The thought made her smile in spite of her day as she pulled onto her street.

  Her eyes automatically drifted toward the next-door neighbor’s house as she approached. He was mysterious, at best. Scary, at worst. He came and went at the strangest hours, kept totally to himself, and shut his house up like a dark and silent tomb. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. He could be anything from a reclusive hottie to a sociopathic serial killer.

  Then, as if on cue for a horror movie, her stupid car began to make a chugging noise as the motor started to die. The whole vehicle jerked beneath her as it groaned to a halting stop directly in front of the neighbor’s house, blocking his entire driveway.

  “Great. Just great!” She twisted the key to the ‘off’ position, gave it a few seconds, then tried to turn the motor again. Nothing. Dead as a doornail.

  She glanced over at the big, black monster of a truck that was still in his driveway. He obviously hadn’t gone off to wherever it was that he went to most nights. Shit. She tried the key again as her palms began to sweat and her headache began to pound in earnest. Still nothing. Maybe she could push the dumb thing out of the way. She hopped out and rounded to the rear of the SUV. She pressed her bottom to the bumper and gave a mighty heave using all of her strength. It rolled about an inch, but as soon as she let go, it rolled right back. She took a breath and shoved again. This time it didn’t budge.

  To her left a door slammed. She turned, already dreading who she would see. It took him a moment to realize that she was there, plastered up against the back of her much smaller vehicle as he made his way to his gargantuan truck. His steps slowed as he spotted her, surprise clear in his obsidian eyes.

  Her heart began to race as he changed course and headed toward her. God, she’d forgotten how gorgeous he was. And dangerous. His hair was down tonight, black as midnight and well past his shoulders. Much longer than her chin-length stacked bob. He was dressed in all black from the tips of his biker boots to his button-down shirt, which he had rolled to his elbows.

  “Problem?” he asked, his voice low as he eyed her dead vehicle.

  She swallowed as she peered up into his face. He already towered over her, but from their positions with her on the street and him up on the curb, she felt truly overwhelmed. The streetlight cast an eerie shadow in the twilight, making him appear even more menacing as he studied her eyes.

  She nodded. “My car died.” She stepped away from the bumper. “It’s been acting up today. I’m sorry I’m in your way.”

  The way his eyes took her in—almost as if he knew her intimately—made heat begin to rise in her body and she was thankful for the cloaking semi-darkness. Then, in one smooth, subtle movement, he checked the large, leather-banded watch on his wrist.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” he said. “Get in.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He tilted his head toward her car. “Get in and steer.” He stepped off the curb until he was mere inches from her. He looked down into her eyes and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. “I’ll push.”

  She sucked in a breath and nodded. “Okay.” She slid out from between him and the car and ducked into the driver’s seat. She shifted to neutral, gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands, and peeked up into the rearview mirror. She caught a glimpse of him as he adjusted his grip and prepared to push her and all she could think about was how he smelled like he’d just showered.

  “Ready?” he called.

  “Ready.”

  “One. Two. Three,” he counted off before he gave the car a giant shove like it was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Slowly, she began moving until he had her pushed out of the way of his driveway.

  She applied the brakes once he got her in front of her house and jumped out. “Thank you so much!” she called out, but he was already halfway back to his truck. She ran to catch up to him. “Wait!”

  He turned around and she was caught off guard with the instant fantasy of running her fingers through that mane of hair. She really needed to get a grip. She smiled at him. “Wait. I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you late for work, but I just wanted to thank you. We haven’t met under the best of circumstances. Let me introduce myself officially.” She held out her hand. “I’m your grateful neighbor, Braelyn Campbell. And you’ve already met my son, Tristan.” She gave a small, nervous laugh remembering the night he’d come over to try and save her from a would-be burglar. She chose to ignore the near miss in the driveway.

  He stood there for a moment and she felt like a fool. It wasn’t like she was asking him on a d
ate or anything. Why wouldn’t he take her hand? Finally, he accepted her handshake, his huge, warm hand engulfing hers. Tingles raced up and down her body at the contact.

  His black eyes were like pools of liquid mystery as he studied her. Finally, he spoke. “I’m Noble. Noble Blackfeather.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Noble Blackfeather. Have a good night at work.”

  He nodded once before climbing up into his truck. She watched him drive away and wondered what had just happened, because she was sure something had.

  Michael sat next to Ariel in the Old Tabernacle Church basement at their AA, or Angels Anonymous, meeting and grinned like a fool. This was a day that Father had made and, quite simply, he was thrilled to be on Love Detail. Of all the tasks angels could be given—Prophecy, Messaging, Crossovers, Healing, Travel Mercies . . . the list was endless—Love was, by far, the most rewarding. It was timeless.

  Their fearless leader, Gabriel, took his place at the podium once the doors had been sealed with light to begin their weekly meeting. His ancient golden eyes scanned the crowd of his brother and sister angels. “Good evening, everyone,” he said with the soothing melodious tone that always calmed the room. “Let’s get started.” He consulted the long sheet of notes before him. “Uriel.” He looked up to the thin angel with long, blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “How are your humans faring? Jennifer and Alan? I expect you’ve learned some lessons from your first assignment?” Gabriel smiled kindly.

  Uriel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was the newbie, other than Ariel, and he was still learning the ropes fresh from Crossovers. His last assignment had only succeeded out of dumb luck really, because his humans had quit speaking to him over his behavior. But, he’d been trying to do the right thing. Just not very well, unfortunately. Oh, well. Love and learn, as the angels say.