"I can't go to the police."

"Why? You shoot someone?" He'd meant it as a joke, but when her face paled, Blu kicked himself for being an idiot.

"I didn't shoot anyone. At least not in the past three years." She jumped up and headed for the railing. "I

wouldn't have shot you in the alley yesterday. I hate guns."

Blu stood. She looked over her shoulder, saw him advancing, then glanced over the side of the boat as if she were contemplating jumping. On instinct, he reached out and snared her around the waist and hauled her back against him. "That would be suicide," he growled in her ear.

She tried to wiggle free, her backside making contact with his groin more than once as she fought. Blu tightened his hold on her and waited until the fight went out of her. Waited and suffered both at the same time.

When she finally gave up, she panted, "Suicide is getting the police involved before I know who I am.

Please let me go!" Her obvious fear of him was beginning to annoy him. Blu spun her around and cemented her to him so that he could see her face. "I didn't give you those bruises, so stop acting like I'm the sc.u.m who did. I haven't given you one d.a.m.n reason to be afraid of me, have I?"

"You don't understand," she cried. "Salva's big like you, and he likes to ... he likes-" She broke off.

Blu released her and backed off quickly. "Do I look like him?"

"No."

"Do I talk like him?"

"No."

"Smell like him? Dress like him?" His voice had turned angry.

"No!"

Blu had never questioned his ability to intimidate, other than to consider it an a.s.set when he'd worked for

Patch. Within a matter of weeks the rumor that came from the Quarter was that the Crescent City had its

own home-grown devil, just like they had their own voodoo queen in Marie Laveau. Only now, suddenly, that foreboding side to his character was getting in Blu's way, and he didn't know what to do about it.

"Take it easy," he heard himself say in a soft voice he hardly recognized. "I don't have a reason to hurt you. Most men don't get a charge out of manhandling women. There are a few, but I'm not one of them. I've never hit a woman in my life," he heard himself say.But I've beaten the h.e.l.l out of a hundred-plus men, he thought.

"You're just so big. And-"

"Trying to swim for sh.o.r.e would be crazy. The deal is, I'll keep my distance so long as you keep your head."

When she continued to cling to the railing, Blu still wasn't so sure she didn't intend to jump. But if she did, he'd go in after her. Like it or not, it looked as though he was once again in the salvage business-the human salvage business, that is. Last year sixdirty-faced kids had gotten under his skin, and now, in less than twenty-four hours, a frightenedfille with fairy-tale hair had penetrated his thick skin.

Maybe the rumor that had been circulating since he'd left Patch Pollaro's employment was the truth. Maybe he had lost his edge and grown soft.

"I wasn't going to jump."

Her comment jarred Blu out of his musing. He studied her. She was so d.a.m.n small standing there in her skinny little jeans. Her arms and hands were frail, and those big brown eyes... They just wouldn't let him go.Oui, the rumors were right-he was losing it-the Enforcer was dead, replaced by some idiot who, pretty soon, would be growing a d.a.m.n conscience if he wasn't careful.

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "You keep staring. I wish you wouldn't."

"You can't be twenty-four," Blu stated. "h.e.l.l, you can't be twenty."

"Salva told me I was twenty-four."

"He's a liar," Blu said flatly, hating the man already and he hadn't even met him yet.

"You're still staring."

"The deal is, I get to stare and you get to be ... cautious or afraid, or whatever it is you are of me. Maybe, after a while, we'll get used to each other's little quirks. Deal?" When she didn't say anything, Blu added, "There isn't anything you can tell me that would surprise me." When she still said nothing, he tried once more. "I can help you. I know that's a bold statement to make, and for now I don't plan on getting into why I can make that guarantee. You're just going to have to believe in those instincts of yours and put yourself in the hands of the devil. Think you can do that, Angel?"

Kristen turned to look at Blu for the first time since she'd taken his advice and confessed her desperate situation. It had been a long five minutes since she'dfinished telling him her story, at least a portion of the story-she'd left out the part about being themother of a two-and-a-half-year-old and thewife of Salvador Maland. She also hadn't mentioned the island that had been her prison for the past three years. But she had painted a picture-young girl awakens in a beautiful house with a stranger who says they are a couple. The stranger is rich and possessive. Powerful and abusive when angered. And since she can't remember anything, she stays.

Endures.

It was for self-preservation's sake, she told herself, that she hadn't mentioned being a mother or wife.

Knowing the Blu Devil less than twenty-four hours, how could he expect her to bare her entire soul? We'll have to accept each other's little quirks.And what if one of his "quirks" was steering clear of married women? Or, what if he hated kids? No, she'd been right to choose her words carefully.

He'd been quiet throughout her confession, and she continued to worry about that. Maybe he was going to change his mind, after all. Maybe he'd decided that helping her was a mistake. "You said nothing would surprise you," Kristen reminded him. He was standing at the back of the cruiser, a knee bent, resting it on the leather that wrapped the stern.

It was his injured leg, the one that caused him to limp.

Suddenly he slid his leg off the seat and faced her. "You don't look like the type who would put up with a man who enjoys beating up women. What aren't you telling me, Angel? What are you hiding?" "I'm not hiding anything." "Maland have a reason to beat you?" "No!" Kristen would never confess the extent of her humiliation. It made her sick remembering the way Salva enjoyed torturing her, the way he liked to hold her down and watch the fear grow in her eyes before he hurt her. But all of it, all the abuse and degradation, washer pain to keep inside or to share, and she chose to keep it, to bury it deep and never let her shame out. The Blu Devil wasn't going to hear any of the sordid details because, frankly, she didn't want to see the disgust in his eyes, or the pity.

"Why did you stay with him so long?" Kristen went for an easy lie. "Because he was rich and life there was easy." "It isn't easy living with bruises. Try again." "Youdon't know me." "I knowbig men make you uncomfortable as h.e.l.l. That says it all." Kristen lowered her eyes. "All right. I couldn't leave." "But you did leave. You're here. Why not a year ago, two years ago?" "I don't know." Kristen couldn't keep the anger from seeping into her voice. Still, she refused to detail her reasons for staying. Amanda was so tiny, so vulnerable in the beginning; she had weighed less than

five pounds at birth. She watched as he turned back to stare out over the water. The sun was setting and clouds were moving in. Dark clouds. The afternoon had slipped away and it was getting late. She needed to get back to the shelter, back to Amanda.

"Tell me more about the picture you showed me yesterday. You said you found it in afile."

"Yes. I found it in a file labeled Old Business."

"Was there anything else in thefile?"

"No, just photos."

"Of people other than me?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't take any of the other pictures? Just the one of me?"

"I took six pictures from Salva's office, two of you and four of me." That wasn't entirely true, but Kristen

wasn't going to mention Amanda's baby alb.u.m that she had taken from Miandera's sitting room. "I didn't feel strongly about any of the others, so-"

He turned around, locked eyes with her. "Explain that." He was looking at her in that hard, demanding way again. As uncomfortable as that made her, Kristen tossed her hair away from her face and met his demand with a bit of reckless defiance that was purely bluff. "I didn't connect with anyone in the other photos, all right? I didn't feel ... I didn't feel something for any of the others."

"But the picture of me was different?"

Kristen felt her cheeks heat up. "Yes."

"Because you thought you and I- You thought I would recognize you yesterday. Isn't that right?"

He was suddenly looking at her with new eyes. d.a.m.n him for making her feel more vulnerable than she

already did. "I told you why. I told you about the winch."

"But there was more, wasn't there?"

Yes, there was more. But she wasn't going to mention how, when she'd first seen his picture on the wall

in Salva's office, she'd frozen on the spot for several minutes to stare at him. Her stomach ... it had done an entire flip. Her cheeks were burning up now. "Okay, yes, I thought it was possible we were related. Then I thought you might work with Salva. But you don't have the tattoo so-"

"Hold it. What tattoo?"

"All the men who work for Salva have a dagger tattoo on the palm of their left hand."

He stood there for a long time considering her words. Finally he said, "I don't work for anyone but

myself. And I've never seen you before yesterday. For sure, we're not related."

Feeling foolish, Kristen lowered her gaze. "I could show you the other photos. Maybe-"

"Do you have them with you?"

"No."

"Where are you staying?"

She looked up to find him staring again, only this time he was sizing up her figure, his fierce gaze locking on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wanted to cross her arms over her chest, but instead she turned away and feigned interest in the sunset.

"I asked you, where are you staying?"

The words were so close that Kristen knew he now stood directly behind her. A gentle breeze lifted her hair and she angled her face to cool her cheeks and calm her racing heart.

"Come on, Angel. It's time you trusted somebody."

She shook her head. "I could meet you tomorrow."

"What makes you think I'm letting you off this boat tonight?"

Kristen spun around and found herself practically in his arms. "Now you sound like Salva. You said you weren't like him. Please, don't behim now." When he didn't answer, she said, "I don't trust anyone, and for now that's the way it has to be. That's the secret to survival."

They were toe-to-toe. Kristen suddenly felt his fingers on the backs of her arms. Slowly he brushed them over the bruises. It was a shock, him touching her-no, not the touch, but the manner in which he was touching her-so gentle it was almost nonexistent.

Still caught up in his feather-light caress, she didn't move when he leaned forward. Bending his knees so he could move closer, he whispered next to her ear, "The secret to survival, Angel, isn't a matter of not trusting anyone, but trusting the right someone. In this case, that would be me."

The feel of his warm breath against her skin made Kristen shiver. His fingers were still moving over her arms, doing the oddest thing to her pulse. And her stomach was suddenly tied in dozens of tiny knots. He dropped his hands and took a step back. With nothing to say, Kristen simply stood there, drinking in the wild scent of the Blu Devil and scrambling to make sense out of what had just happened.

"We'll meet tomorrow night at Cruger's," he said, breaking the silence and the spell he'd cast over her. "Nine o'clock sharp. Bring the pictures."

Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Was he going to let her go?

Kristen had her answer an hour later when the Blu Devil moored theNightwing to DuBay Pier and helped her off the boat. "Tomorrow night at Cruger's," he reminded her, hopping back onto the deck of his cruiser."I'll see you at nine."

"Thanks be praised, you're back." Sister Marian thrust a fussy Amanda into Kristen's arms, then collapsed in a heap in the only chair the small room provided, a shabby green stuffed recliner on shaky legs.

"I'm sorry I took so long." Kristen kissed her daughter's cheek. She noticed Amanda's swollen eyes and runny nose. "Amanda, sweetheart, you know Mommy always comes back. There's no need to cry."

Amanda rubbed her eyes with her tiny fists, then slumped against her mother's shoulder.

"She's such a beautiful child." Sister Marian angled her head and peered at Kristen for a long minute. "You look like you're ready to collapse in a heap. You're nearly asleep on your feet. You need ten hours on your back in that bed."

"I'm fine," Kristen insisted, refusing to let her exhaustion slow her down. At the most, she had only a few days at the shelter, then she'd need to relocate. Staying in one place too long wouldn't be smart. "Did you speak to Mother Ramose about me staying another day or two?"

"You can stay as long as you like, dear. That's never been an issue." Sister Marian glanced at the clock. "I feel I need to warn you, however, about staying out this late in Algiers. The streets aren't safe after dark."

"I appreciate your concern. But if I'm going to change things for me and Amanda, I'm going to have to take a few risks." The conversation reminded Kristen that she'd made a promise to the Blu Devil to meet him tomorrow night. "I have to go out again tomorrow evening. It could get late."

Sister Marian arched one of her dark eyebrows. "Well, I've warned you. Now all I can do is pray that G.o.d has a spare angel with time on his hands to watch over you."