Summer Of My Secret Angel Read online

  He lowered his hands and folded them on the desk. “Why can’t you keep your butt out of trouble? Kids your age are supposed to hang out in parks, not at police stations.”

  Quinn was a nice guy. Big eyes, styled hair, and a muscular body, I guessed he was no more than ten years older than me. Once, I had asked him for his real age, but he just told me he was “old enough to know better.”

  Unlike my relationship with Debby, I did consider Quinn a real friend, even though he worked for the police. And not just because he’d once made a stop at McDonald’s to buy me a sandwich when he’d volunteered to take me back to the orphanage after his shift. He was someone who saw me, the teenager, and not the criminal.

  During the one year we had known each other, he had never passed on a chance to try to talk sense into my rebellious head. And today was no different. His nostrils flared as he heaved a hopeless sigh. “What did you do this time?”

  Riley punched his fist on the countertop, the purple sweater clenched between his chunky fingers. “Jim Dawkins here went fishing at Camden Market.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Jack. It’s Jack Dawkins. Someone should smack a copy of Oliver Twist over your head.” I’d have volunteered if I had a book within reach that was thick enough to leave a dent in this bonehead. And, of course, if currently I hadn’t been cuffed. I cast Quinn a meaningful glance. “Why are you surrounding yourself with idiots?”

  Riley started forward with fire in his eyes, but Quinn held him back by his arm. “Thanks for bringing her in, but I better deal with her now.”

  The stout officer snarled but finally trudged away, throwing off steam that would make Thomas the Tank Engine proud.

  Once Riley and his partner disappeared, Quinn regarded me with wry sympathy. “You know, Abe will have your head for this.” He paused as I gulped.

  Stealing a Nintendo from Stanton Electronics eleven months ago had gotten me the first chance to see a courtroom from the inside and make the acquaintance of Judge Abraham C. Smith. I liked to call the balding judge a special friend, even though a plague had become his choice description for me.

  Minor offenses had cultivated our friendship extraordinaire ever since. Although Miss Mulligan continuously saved my butt, the last time I’d seen Abe, he had sworn he would lock me away for the next five hundred years if I showed up in his office again. I had half-expected steam to come out of his ears. He’d sent me out of his office with a glare as sharp as Superman’s laser vision. I wasn’t too keen on meeting him again anytime soon.

  Quinn stood up and placed his palm on my shoulder. Unlike the other officer’s hand, I allowed Quinn’s to stay. “Let’s fill out the forms, kiddo, and then we’ll call Miss Mulligan. I can’t get off right now, so your warden needs to come here and pick you up.”

  My stomach dropped. I could picture the freckled beanpole freaking out when she heard I was at the police station—again. My eighteenth birthday was only seven weeks away. Six weeks and five days to be exact. She wouldn’t make her threat real and turn me over to the law so close to my release from the orphanage. Would she?

  A couple of hours later, Miss Mulligan led me through the wide double doors of the institution. My eyes were focused on the gray linoleum floor, but the whispers and contemptuous stares of the others in the hall didn’t escape me.

  “Go to your room,” Miss Mulligan ordered. The effort it took for her to control her temper reflected on her red face. “I’ll make a call to Judge Smith now and deal with you later.”

  Calling Abe? Thank goodness; she was on my side after all. I knew her tactics from the past. First, she would call the court and try to reason with the officials, promising to make up for the damage, or in this particular case, the stolen sweater. Then she’d take me to a hearing where I would show my good will and act very, very sorry. In the end, I might get away with being locked in my room for a couple of weeks and probably no TV.

  Acceptable.

  That evening, the warden came to my room on the third floor to inform me the dreaded audience with my friend Abe was set for the next Tuesday—and to tell me she would be the happiest person in the world the day that I turned eighteen and left the orphanage for good.

  There was no reason not to believe her.

  The four days between my capture and the meeting at court I spent in my sparsely furnished room with dirty white walls. Curled up on the worn metal cot, I stuck my nose deep in a book, my feet shoved under the thin blanket. The lamp placed on the stool that served as my nightstand had a weak bulb that hardly provided enough light to decipher the letters on the pages at night, but that didn’t stop me.

  I read the story of Peter Pan and how he taught Wendy to fly above a sleeping London. Bloody hell, I should have left my window open and begged for someone like him to come through and carry me out in his arms. But then again, with my problem of vertigo, I wouldn’t have made it past the windowsill.

  On Tuesday morning, I dressed in the best pair of black jeans I owned, fixed the hole over the right knee with a safety pin, and scrubbed my scuffed boots. A dark gray hooded sweater with ragged cuffs that ended two inches above my wrists had to do on top.

  Miss Mulligan, dressed in an abominable pink suit, escorted me in a taxi to the courthouse. I was to meet Abe in the smaller, almost private office behind the big hall, where minor cases were handled.

  As we strolled down the hallway, the distinct scent of lavender and cherry blossom floated in the air. The smell set off an ice-cold trickle at my nape, waking memories of painful days long ago. I knew only one person who used to wear this particular perfume.

  I stopped dead and whirled around. Miss Mulligan sent me a puzzled glance. Breathing deep, I inspected the hallway up and down, but the one person I searched for was nowhere in sight.

  A long breath wheezed from my lungs. I must have been mistaken.

  In front of Judge Smith’s office, a guard stood watch. He let us in when we showed him my nice and official invitation. He frowned at my hands shoved deep into my pockets, but I ignored him and followed Miss Mulligan through the door.

  Wide windows on two walls brightened the beige-carpeted office. A small number of people gathered on one side of the room close to the door; some sat next to the judge’s big desk. I caught a glimpse of Quinn’s encouraging eyes and felt a cloud of calm settle in my chest for a moment. Then my gaze zeroed in on Abe.

  He looked up from a stack of papers as soon as I crossed the threshold. His disapproving eyes sent shivers down my back, but even as my warden slowed her pace, I walked straight up to him.

  “Never show weakness or fear.” Debby’s advice rang in my ears.

  “Jona Montiniere.” Abe adjusted his small round spectacles and gave me a quick once over.

  Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin and displayed my best let’s-talk-shop grin. “Hello, Abe. Is business doing well?”

  The judge ground his teeth. “You keep me busy enough,” he grumbled through his beard.

  I always wondered how it happened that men lost the luxury of hair on their heads, while stubble still sprouted wildly on their faces. This was not the best moment to bring up the prickly topic, though. Not with Abe already gathering momentum.

  He scanned his papers again, shoving the glasses farther up his nose. “This is the twenty-third time in less than one year that I have you standing here.”

  At the word twenty-third an awed whistle came from the seats. I cut a quick glance to Quinn, who cocked a brow.

  “Is there anything you can say in your defense?” the judge demanded.

  I pouted, Quinn only shrugged.

  Next to him sat Riley, who stuffed the last bite of a doughnut with pink icing into his mouth. It brought a grin to my lips, and I turned back to Abe.

  “I’m a kleptomaniac and have a medical certificate for legal pilfering in London.”

  Riley coughed, slamming a hand to his chest, but it was the deep chuckle from the back of the room that drew my full attention. First, I only glance
d over my shoulder. But glistening sunlight blinded me, and I pivoted around sharply.

  For an immeasurable moment, nothing but bright white fog absorbed and swallowed everything within reach. Awestruck, I didn’t even squint. Then a tall figure emerged from this glowing mist. A long, white cloak floated around the person’s legs while the sleeves, long and wide, covered the masculine hands almost completely. Fathomless blue eyes appeared next, followed by a smile that could have melted glaciers in the Arctic.

  It had to be a reflection of light streaming through the south window. An illusion caused by today’s stress and tension. But it didn’t disappear.

  Every single pair of eyes in the room locked onto me with confused stares. Their gawks prickled my skin all over. Only the illuminated person lowered his gaze. He retreated a couple of steps to the shadowed line along the back wall. Instantly, the fog around him disappeared, and I could make out the fine features of a young man. A casual pair of blue jeans and a black leather jacket replaced what I was sure had been a white cloak.

  Obviously, they had to add Delusional to my medical certificate.

  His clean-shaven face revealed a strong jaw topped by a sensual mouth. When the corners slightly lifted, my heart banged against my ribcage, fluttering like a sparrow caught in a cage. Strands of tousled golden hair fell over his forehead, reminding me of warm honey. Even with the mystic light gone, the guy who remained was godlike.

  Bloody hell, what had brought a god to my hearing? It was a freaking sweater!

  As he arched one delicate eyebrow, I snapped my mouth shut before drool could drip from the corners. Heat rushed through my veins and filled my face.

  “Miss Montiniere, will you please pay attention?” Abe’s words sounded far away.

  Those sapphire eyes held me captive. I never wanted to leave this personal prison of ours.

  Slowly, a bony arm looped around the god’s bent elbow.

  Cherry blossoms? Why did the room suddenly smell of lavender and this distinctive note of spring in bloom? The mix of floral scents pulled me back to the present. How long since I had smelled it the last time? That must have been something close to five years. I let my gaze trace the skinny arm and wander farther up.

  Horrorstruck, I gaped at the face of the one person I never wanted to see again.

  SHACKLED

  JUDGE ABE’S SQUARE office, with all the people shoved inside, started to spin around me. I felt like someone had stuffed me into a too-small box and was pushing the top closed against my head.

  “Who let that bitch in?” Muscles quivering, I glowered at Charlene Montiniere.

  “Watch your tongue, Miss Montiniere,” the judge warned. “This is a court of law.”

  “The fuck I will,” I spat. My eyes staked her. “This woman dumped me at an orphanage when I was a kid. She never even looked back.” Fear tightened my throat. How was the hag going to ruin my life this time?

  Charlene gaped at me. The skin sagged into bags beneath her sunken eyes. Her matted red-orange tresses had once been the exact match to my own long auburn hair. She wore a stark shade of red lipstick that clashed with her pale, bony face. In short, she looked like she’d been through hell.

  Good, I hoped the bitch had suffered just as much as I had. She could crawl back into whatever rat hole she’d emerged from. And she’d better not even think about saying anything to me. She’d lost that right when I was five.

  My hatred-filled glare silenced her. One of her shaky hands rose slowly, as if she wanted to touch me from the eight-foot distance that stretched between us.

  “Drop dead, Charlene,” I growled.

  “Jona Montiniere, I insist on you behaving in an appropriate manner, so we can continue this hearing,” Abe Smith roared. “I understand your mistrust against your mother, but once you listen to the reasons, you might change your mind.”

  No way in hell.

  The alarm signal in my head was flashing bright red. Another minute in the same room with my mother would have been an eternity too long. I spun around to face the old man behind his monstrous desk and gave him a mocking military salute. “Goodbye, Abe. I’m outta here.”

  The roar to call me to order was futile. Consequences? Not my concern. I strode toward the door, my only goal fresh air and a good deal of distance between me and that bitch.

  People shouted my name, some addressing me as Miss Montiniere, some using only my first name as if we were friends.

  “Kiddo, don’t be ridiculous. Stay where you are!” I heard Quinn call out.

  Not happening.

  His desperation wouldn’t stop me from leaving. But a set of chunky arms around my waist could. Riley was the first to capture me. The delight of victory shone in his eyes as he pressed my back against the wall. “You’re not going anywhere, little miss, apart from jail.”

  Don’t panic. Hysteria never got me anywhere, and there was a very real place I needed to get right now. Out of here.

  Fists clenched, my nails bit into my palms. “Take your bloody paws off me!”

  The high-pitched squeak Riley gave nearly shattered my eardrums when I bit into the hand he’d clasped on my left shoulder. The donut residue I could taste on it made my stomach roll.

  He jerked his arm back. “Damn brat, you’re gonna pay for this!”

  Over his shoulder, I spotted both Quinn and Riley’s partner rushing toward me, but the stumbling Riley bounced into Quinn, and my only friend at the police station staggered sideways. He caught his balance by grabbing Miss Mulligan’s arm. The warden squealed something hysterical and slapped his hands away.

  With all the confusion in the room, I saw my chance of escape. However, my freedom was short lived. The moment I started for the exit, Riley’s tall partner caught my wrist and swung me around. The momentum tossed me against the edge of a small, dark brown desk in the back corner of the room.

  In self-defense, I leaned back on the desk and pulled my legs to my chest as the policeman came for me. My hard kick hit his chest, and the soles of my boots popped a wheeze out of the cop. The deputy careened backward, doubled over. When he caught his breath, he cursed in a tongue that would have made Debby Westwood, the uncrowned queen of swearing, go green with envy.

  I shoved away from the desk, but my chance of flight was gone as the door flung open and two guards stormed in. Whether it was Riley’s screams, Miss Mulligan’s screeches, or a secret button under Abe’s desk that alerted the guards, I never knew. But they had my shoulders pinned to the floor before my next breath. All air escaped from my lungs. A flash of pain soared through my upper body.

  “No!” two men in the room shouted at once. One of them was Quinn. His voice was edged with sheer horror. In that moment, I was grateful he didn’t just abandon me like so many others had.

  Who the other worried guy was, I couldn’t tell.

  One guard pulled handcuffs from his belt. He fastened them around my wrists in front of me. Neither my kicking nor shrieking could prevent the awful click when the locks snapped into place.

  “Get off her, you idiots. She’s only a kid.” Quinn elbowed his way through to me. “Are you all right, kiddo?”

  The pain in my chest and back eased. I could finally draw in air. “Wow, what a fight.” It didn’t feel like anything was seriously injured or broken, so I pressed my lips together and gave Quinn a halfhearted nod. “I’m fine.”

  I had to be. No weakness. Ever.

  He wrapped his fingers around my upper arms, pulling me to a wobbly stand. “In God’s name, Jona,” he whispered. “I beg you, behave.”

  A deep growl preceded my answer. “As you wish, sir.” What other choice did I have with the cuffs on?

  From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my mother’s companion. The fair-haired god studied me with narrowed eyes. Trying to figure me out? That made me very uncomfortable.

  With a gentle tug, Quinn led me up to Abe’s desk. I turned my head to hold the blond stranger’s stare for another moment. His arm was wrapped in a
supporting way around my mother’s shoulders. A god in his early twenties with Charlene? Where in the world would a bony bitch like her find a lover so close to my age—and that gorgeous to boot?

  “Jona Montiniere!”

  The murmurs in the room ebbed with Abe’s thundering. My head snapped toward him. Nerves steeling for what was to follow, I quickly rebuilt my mental wall of protection.

  He had risen from his chair and braced himself on the desk, glaring at me over the rims of his spectacles. “This time, you stepped over the line. Contempt of court. Assaulting an officer.”

  “What? They assaulted me first!” My shout echoed in the room, no less angry than his. “Riley here should be sued for child abuse.”

  “Enough!” Abe roared. “Shut your mouth and sit down.”

  “Sit down?” My dramatic glance behind me was enough to point out there was nothing but the floor to sit on.

  Abe rubbed his temples. “For heaven’s sake, someone fetch a chair for the girl.”

  One of the guards hurried to shove a chair into the back of my knees, and I plopped down on the uncomfortable wooden seat. Quinn stood beside me, arms folded over his chest like the bouncer of a night club. Ooh, my personal pit bull. This eased at least some of my fear. I could lift my chin again. The move always ignited the pig-rude manners I’d gleaned from Debby.

  The judge calmed himself with a few heavy breaths and sat down, too. His black robe with its puffy sleeves made him look more like a watchful owl than a person of authority. When he lowered his gaze to the papers in front of him, I took the chance to poke Quinn’s thigh with my elbow.

  “What?” he hissed.

  Hands lifted, I displayed the torturing shackles and grinned sweetly. “Remove these?”

  Quinn cut a glance to the exit then studied me for a second, his brows furrowing into a line. “I don’t think so.”

  Huh? And I thought he was my friend. My you-evil-bastard scowl only coaxed out his grin, and he tousled my hair.

  When Judge Abe cleared his throat, all eyes returned to him. “Miss Montiniere, I’ve followed your criminal progress for nearly a year now. As I was informed, you will be released from the Westminster Children’s Home in less than seven weeks.” He pulled his glasses off his nose and placed them carefully on the stack of papers. “This gives rise to serious concern. With a criminal past like yours, I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll be out on a robbing tour of London as soon as you turn eighteen.”