THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE LAW Read online

  "Never isn't a word I feel comfortable using, but it probably fits in this instance."

  Blu knew Margo's concern for him was genuine. She had sacrificed a great deal for him last year. She'd taken a bullet in her arm, a bullet that had been meant for him. She'd survived the ordeal, and now that she'd been reunited with the only man she'd ever loved, her current mission was to find her outlaw brother a nice wife.

  Blu's stomach growled again.

  "I heard that. Come on. While I'm feeding you, I'll tell you about Sharon."

  "Sharon?"

  "The nice girl at the Toucan."

  As Margo passed through the door, Blu hung back. "Thanks for your time, Ry. Tell Jackson I'll be anxious to hear anything he finds out. Oh, and make sure you take care of my sister in Texas. She's hard to live with most days, but I wouldn't want to have to try living without her."

  * * *

  The devil's lair was a pigsty. Kristen crept inside the desecrated apartment, her eyes wide with disbelief. How could anyone live in such a depressing place, she thought, as she scaled the stairs and entered the apartment at the top of the landing.

  The air smelled old and damp, and she wrinkled her nose, unconsciously wiped her hands on her jeans-clad thighs. There was no place to cook a meal, no chairs or table. Nothing but an old mattress lay in the far corner.

  The bathroom—Kristen stuck her head inside a small archway and found a dingy yellowed sink, a toilet in worse condition, and a shower stall rimmed on all sides with rust. Suddenly she felt lucky that she had found the women's shelter on Carmel Avenue. She couldn't afford to stay in a motel, and an apartment such as this would have been no place for Amanda. The shelter was clean, and the food tasty and regular. And there was this wonderful nun named Sister Marian who had befriended them. That's who had lent her the black habit yesterday, and who had agreed to baby-sit Amanda today while she was out.

  Kristen released a defeated sigh. Yesterday she had hoped that the Blu Devil would recognize her, and when he hadn't… Well, maybe he didn't know her, but he certainly knew Salva. That's why she was in his apartment—to find evidence he had lied. Evidence that might give her another clue as to who she was and where she belonged.

  She had stared at his photo a number of times on the sailboat, then on the airplane. As wary as she was of the man and his possible connection to Salva, she'd started hoping he was her brother, or maybe a mean cousin who valued family. She'd imagined him seeing through her nun's disguise and telling her that he was thrilled she was alive and well. Then he'd call her by name and take her home to meet the rest of her family—all ten brothers who looked as tough and solid as he did.

  Fairy-tale garbage, is what it all was. The Blu Devil couldn't possibly be related to her. Kristen glanced around the room and shuddered. No, she couldn't be related to anyone who lived like this.

  Exhausted, she admitted her bravado was slipping. She was confused and afraid. She wanted to go home, but the only home she remembered was the one on the island and she didn't intend to go back there. Not ever.

  Salva would be searching for her by now, and just thinking about how he would punish her if he ever found her made her sick to her stomach. He had contacts all over the country. Once he'd turned Belize upside down, she was sure he would dissect the coastal towns one by one.

  She would have gone to the police if she hadn't been so afraid that Salva was telling the truth about her fugitive status. She didn't feel like a criminal, but she couldn't take the chance. Not with Amanda's future hanging in the balance.

  But all was not lost. At least, not yet anyway. Yesterday when she'd asked to see the Blu Devil's hand and it was free of Salva's mark, she had actually felt momentarily dizzy with relief. The Blu Devil was not one of them—he didn't carry the Maland dagger insignia tattooed into the palm of his left hand. And if he wasn't one of them, then it was quite possible he was Salva's enemy. That would explain the picture—her husband was big on vendettas. Once he'd had a statue constructed in a man's likeness just so he could destroy it piece by piece over a week's time.

  Kristen had watched the Blu Devil for three days before she'd approached him. What she'd learned wasn't anything concrete, but she had come to realize that, physically, he was an iron man. That his fleet of shrimpers docked full daily, and that he was always the last man to leave the wharf at the end of the day.

  In the midst of her musing, Kristen heard footsteps on the stairs. Jerked back to the present, she sucked in her breath. Was it him? Had the Blu Devil come home? No, it couldn't be him. What would he be doing here at this time of day?

  She glanced around, knowing there was no place to hide—she couldn't even crawl under the bed.

  Filled with a sudden urgency, Kristen dashed for the door and flung it open. Bolting into the hall, she knew she had only a few seconds before whoever was climbing the stairs reached the landing. With no time to lose, she grabbed for the first doorknob she came to and nearly stumbled over her own feet to get inside. Heart pounding, she eased the door closed, hoping she hadn't made too much noise. Her gaze took in the room in one quick glance. The rundown apartment was no better than the one she'd just vacated. In fact, it was exactly the same—bare of furniture, with only a mattress in the corner.

  She glanced at the wall that separated the two rooms and to her horror realized that the shell of a wall was missing large pieces of plaster. In some places she could actually see into the next room through the narrow cracks. At that moment it occurred to her that maybe she'd been wrong, maybe this wasn't the Blu Devil's home, after all. But she'd followed him here yesterday after he'd pulled himself to his feet in the alley, and the day before that.

  Oh, God, what if it had all been a trap? What if he had known she'd been following him? What if he'd gambled on her coming back?

  Worse, what if it wasn't the Blu Devil at all? What if Salva had been on her trail from the moment she'd left the island?

  * * *

  Chapter 4

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  It was him. It was the Blu Devil.

  Kristen covered her mouth as she peered through the crack in the wall, another dose of fear lodging in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of a way out of the building without being seen. At the very least, heard.

  As scared as she was, she felt an overwhelming amount of relief that it wasn't Salva.

  It was strange to fear the Blu Devil and at the same time want him to be her savior. His wild hair was so black it looked almost blue, she thought, squinting through the crack. It appeared stubborn, too, as stubborn as his ruggedly built jaw. His good looks were understated by his fierce, dark eyes and serious, hard mouth. It gave the impression he had never smiled a day in his life. His broad shoulders were as intimidating as his long muscular legs and the size of his hands.

  Kristen didn't like big men, didn't like their forceful natures. She knew her fear was irrational; not every man enjoyed dominating a woman with force, but she had suffered so much at the hands of a big man over the past three years that she'd become jaded. And, she reminded herself, she'd seen this man in action—the Blu Devil wasn't just strong, he was as quick as a bolt of lightning. Not even his limp seemed to slow him down.

  He peeled off his white sleeveless T-shirt in one complete motion and tossed it onto the mattress in the far corner. He was beautifully put together—bodywise there would be few men who could equal him. Even Salva didn't compare, Kristen decided as she examined every exposed muscle in the Blu Devil's broad back. She continued to stare through the crack, determined to find something about this man that might spark her memory. But she found herself again distracted by the sight of him—afraid one minute, in awe the next.

  He rolled his head side to side. Stretched. When he reached for the zipper on his jeans, Kristen sucked in her breath and held it. Suddenly his hands stilled. A second later, he lifted his head and slowly turned to stare at the wall she was hiding behind. The crack she was peering through was tiny. He couldn't possi
bly know she was there. Still, Kristen jerked her head back and flattened herself against the wall. Surely he hadn't sensed she was watching him, not unless he had the predatory instincts of a wild animal.

  A long minute passed. Then another. More minutes came and went. Kristen took several calming breaths, and shook off her paranoia. Still, she needed to get out of there. It was going to be tricky, but she was going to have to try.

  She was still debating her dilemma when something hit the wall with such hellish force it literally bounced her into the middle of the room—something hellish, like an angry oversize fist.

  Oh, God! Kristen let out a wild cry, then scrambled for the door. As she thrust it open, she came face-to-face with the Blu Devil. She screamed and slammed the door shut, at least she tried to—the door flew back open, nearly shearing off her nose. She turned to run, her gaze darting around for an alternate escape route. But she already knew there was none, not unless she dove out the second-story window.

  She hadn't made it halfway back into the room before a powerful arm curled around her waist and hauled her off her feet. It happened so fast she was left peddling air.

  The power that snaked around her and reeled her in was double that of Salva's. The realization that he was ten times stronger than her husband, sent total terror flooding through Kristen's veins. She'd suspected he was strong—but … my God!

  She swung her arms and flayed her legs, relieved when a solid kick netted a grunt of displeasure. Encouraged, she remembered his limp and swung her fist in the direction she hoped his thigh would be. The second swing hit its mark. He swore crudely and loosened his hold on her for a split second. Kristen spun around and kicked in the direction of his groin. Anticipating her move, he jerked sideways.

  A second later he charged her.

  She shrieked as he drove her backward. Following her down, she ended up sprawled on the smelly mattress in the corner with the Blu Devil on top of her.

  Momentarily dazed, Kristen blinked, then focused on a pair of fierce dark eyes studying her long and hard.

  A minute passed then he said, "I think we've already had this dance, fille. Oui, now I remember." And to prove that he did, his hand reached up to touch the cut on his temple.

  * * *

  Blu could feel her frail yet shapely body beneath him—feel every inch of her. And whether he wanted it to or not, the perfection that had been hidden by the black robe yesterday put a new slant on everything; his little nun had enough curves to sober a career drunk.

  A perfect package, he mused—beautiful eyes, a sexy mouth, angel hair and a killer body.

  Killer?

  "Where is it?" Blu demanded, quickly coming to his senses.

  "Where's what?"

  "The gun, dammit?"

  "I didn't bring it with me."

  "Sure you did." Blu shifted his weight and ran his hand over her left hip. He felt her body tense.

  "Please," she pleaded, "don't hurt me."

  Blu ignored her plea, reminded of how easy it had been for her to aim that .22 at him yesterday. Determined it wouldn't happen again, his hand kept moving as he watched her. Her eyes were wide, her fear stealing her air. "Breathe, dammit, or you're going to pass out," he warned. "If that happens, you'll wake up not knowing what I did to you."

  His words made her cry out, and the air rushed back into her lungs.

  "The gun," Blu insisted. "I want it."

  "Please! I—"

  Blu got to his knees and flipped her over so quickly she didn't have time to fight him. And that's when he saw the bruises covering the backs of her arms. He'd seen hundreds of bruises, in all shapes and sizes; had been responsible for more than he cared to remember. Good at his past job, he knew just how much pressure to inflict to cause a man's skin to discolor, and to what degree. There was no question about it, his little nun had been manhandled, and it had been fairly recent.

  The small bulge in her back pocket caught his attention, and he shoved his hand inside and retrieved the derringer. Confident she would have better manners now that he had disarmed her, Blu shoved to his feet.

  "Get up."

  She rolled over, scrambled to her feet and took several steps back. With shaky hands, she shoved her sleeveless blue blouse back into the waistband of her jeans, then brushed the length of her hair away from her face.

  Blu watched as her fairy-tale hair drifted over her shoulders, then past her arms, then past her waist. Hell he'd never seen hair that long or that satin-smooth in his life.

  Yesterday, dressed in nun's clothes, she'd pulled a gun on him and given him one huge headache. Today, dressed in street clothes, he'd caught her spying on him like a little pervert. What the hell was she after?

  Blu waved the gun at her. "So we've established you're not a nun. And you like skin."

  "Skin?"

  "Yesterday you were ordering me to get naked." Blu motioned to the wall. "Now I catch you copping a peek through a crack in my wall."

  Her cheeks heated. "You have it all wrong."

  "Then set it right."

  "I told you yesterday why I wanted your jeans. You couldn't answer my questions, and I couldn't trust you to just let me walk away. Today I wasn't watching you. Well, I was, but I didn't come here to do that. You were supposed to be at work."

  "And?"

  "And I thought you were lying about knowing Salva. I came to see if I could find some proof." She paused. "But when I got to your house—"

  "This isn't where I live. It's just a place I own."

  "Oh…"

  Blu gauged her expression. She looked genuinely surprised. "I told you the truth yesterday. I don't know your friend. I've never heard of the Harris woman, either."

  "You have to know Salva."

  "What I know is, you're beginning to annoy me." Blu aimed the gun at her. "And just so you know how it feels to be on the receiving end, get naked."

  "What?"

  "You heard me. Forget the shoes. Start with the blouse."

  Her big brown eyes turned huge. She shook her head. "Yesterday I was desperate," she pleaded.

  "Desperation has its price," Blu countered. "Let's see some skin."

  "No!"

  Five feet, four and a half, Blu decided. She was a half inch taller than he'd told Ry. But he was right about her being young. Suddenly his curiosity made him ask, "How old are you?"

  She jutted her chin. "Twenty-four."

  Blu pulled back the hammer as she'd done to him yesterday. "Let's try that again. How old are you?"

  "If you don't like twenty-four, pick your own number."

  What he liked was her spunk. Hell, the whole package was a five-star winner. Her legs were slight, her breasts small but clearly visible. And all that damn hair was making him think of fairy princesses and peach-scented skin.

  "My money's on eighteen," Blu offered. "Okay, Angel, come clean. Why are you stalking me?"

  "I told you why already. I'm looking for information on Salvador Maland. Because you know him, I thought you would share what you know. Since you weren't willing to cooperate yesterday, and you're usually at work this time of day, I came to see what I could find out on my own."

  That she knew his schedule meant she'd been spying on him long enough to know his pattern. Why? Was she telling him the truth? He saw her glance at the open door, then back at him. He shook his head. "You won't make it. Even with this limp. I'll catch you."

  "Maybe not."

  Blu was staring at her mouth, recycling Maland's name through his memory bank another time when she decided to bolt. Swearing, he raced after her, determined to stop her before she made it out the door. Too late, she was in the hall racing for the stairs before he knew it. Her hair was flying behind her like a wild mane, and he reached out to snare a hunk. Netting nothing but air, he swore again, then watched her leap onto the banister sidesaddle and slide to the bottom. Shocked, Blu roared out his protest, knowing that he'd seen the last of her.

  She swung open the door and started through
it. A moment later she darted back inside, slamming the door shut behind her. When she turned to face him, her cheeks were chalk-white and her brown eyes had grown to the size of silver dollars. "Please," she pleaded, "you've got to hide me. Please, you can't let him take me!"

  * * *

  She started to shake. Then she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to control her growing panic—at least that's what it looked like to Blu. Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding, but that was the problem; he didn't understand. But he damn well would, he vowed, as soon as he got rid of whoever was at the door.

  He headed down the stairs and brushed past her to peer out the narrow window that aligned the door. Seeing Jackson Ward strolling up the sidewalk, Blu pulled back, shoved the derringer into his waistband, and reached for the doorknob.

  "Please." She gripped his arm. "He might be looking for me. Please don't open that door."

  Her words painted a little clearer picture, but not nearly enough. He said, "Jackson's a detective at the NOPD. He's here to see me, not you."

  "The police!"

  Instead of setting her mind at ease, she looked as if she was about to faint. "Oh, God! Oh-hh…!"

  Blu glanced down to where her small hand clutched his forearm. Her tiny fingers were so small, her wrist as fragile as a twig.

  The knock on the door gave her a jolt and she nearly jumped into his arms.

  "I'll do anything." She was almost in tears. "Please, I promise. Just don't mention me to him. Please!"

  Blu reached out, wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. "I'm not sure what's going on, Angel, but until I get some answers, I don't plan on sharing you with Jackson or anybody else. So as soon as I get rid of him, you better be prepared to carry through on that promise you just made." That said, and ignoring how tense her body was in his arms, Blu lifted her off her feet and tucked her beneath the stairs. "Don't move. Not an inch."

  In the middle of the second knock, Blu opened the door and faced Jackson Ward. "You look like hell."

  "So does this place," Jackson answered back. "Still haven't started to fix it up yet, I see."