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ONE

The world was full of heroes. So where were they all when she needed them? She wasnt greedy. Shed settle for one. One single, solitary hero. In a beat up pickup from Tijuana. She didnt care! And she wasnt picky either. If he had a potbelly and a bald spot, she was his if hed just get her out of this blessed rain! Head down, shoulders hunched against the downpour, Jessie Fox kissed the prospect of a rescue and her sweet disposition good-bye as she slogged through the mucky, wet grass along the side of the freeway. So much for Big Als Garage and his Satisfaction Guaranteed Is Our Motto. Al could take his guarantee along with her reconditioned carburetor and put it where the sun dont shine. Which, she acknowledged as she dragged a heavy fall of wet hair out of her eyes, was exactly where she wasstalled in the dark on I-8 without a dry spot or a hero in sight. The traffic shot by her. All these cars, and not one person could find it in himself to stop. Welcome to friendly southern California, she thought bleakly. She considered screaming in frustration, but she was too weary to make the effort. Not just because of her car and the mess it had left her in but because of all the changes in the last year. The strain of coping made her feel more vulnerable than was warranted and more self-pitying than shed ever allowed even during the divorce. Buck up, Fox, she lectured herself. You made the right move. Its a good job. A great opportunity. And tonight and a few other minor incidents notwithstanding, great things had happened to her since shed uprooted herself from Kansas City three months earlier. San Diego for instance. Now, there was a real plus. She loved San Diego, the color, the ocean, and usually the weather, she reminded herself as she skidded through a puddle and narrowly avoided landing face first in the mud. She still missed the Midwest, but Sarah was here. Being close to her daughter took the edge off Jessies occasional pangs of homesickness. Her heart softened, as it always did, when she thought of Sarah. Yes, being close to her was great, even though her independent little coed sometimes didnt see it that way. Once more with feeling, Jessie rallied as the wind picked up and pelted rain full into her face. It was great being in San Diego. It was just that with her jacket and jeans taking on water weight like a leaky boat and her feet sinking into mucky clay, it was a bit of a stretch to gain the upper hand over pessimism. An aging accountant with a rash, she muttered as she plodded on. Any hero in a pinch, and this had gone long past pinching. She was wet. She was cold. She was tired. And she was so anchored in her misery that at first she

didnt notice the vehicle that had pulled into the breakdown lane, slowed to a crawl, and begun keeping pace beside her. With a grateful, sidelong glance Jessie sized up the carwhich wasnt really a car. It wasnt really a truck either. It could once have been a van, she decided, then quickly recatalogued it as a relic from the flower-child generation that had mated with an urban assault vehicle. It was also creepy and just cause to reconsider the any port in a storm philosophy shed been spouting since shed abandoned hope and the dry interior of her car about a mile back. No way was she getting into that van. Without breaking stride she checked out the overextended axles that set a black chassis three feet above the river running along the pavement. The rusted-out body had been painted by an artist who had clearly been in the midst of an identity crisis, and depicted a veritable weed garden of psychedelic flowers that vined from hood to doors and mingled indiscriminately with shooting orange flames. Shocking-yellow letters declared PEACEa concept that more than one other vehicle had taken exception to, if the dings and dents along the body were any indication. By California standards it probably wasnt all that unusual. Her midwestern background, however, couldnt quite come to terms with it. She couldnt stall a shiver, this one as much from apprehension as from cold. When one final glance confirmed that the dark silhouette behind the wheel could not possibly belong to a woman but could possibly belong to a serial killer, she decided that being wet wasnt as rankling a notion as it had been a few minutes ago. And, she realized with considerable relief, she was more discriminating about her rescuer than shed originally thought. Clothes might make the man, but his mode of transportation spoke volumes about his character. Even though she couldnt make out the features of her prospective hero, shed pass this time, thank you very much. Its not getting any drier out there, a deep voice rumbled through the rain. Now, there was a news flash. A regular Einstein had been dispatched to save her. Einstein in the van from hell. Im fine, she said, even as she flirted with the notion that there was something familiar about his voice something teasing and taunting that sent a tune of recognition humming through her senses. She chalked off that possibility to hysterical hope. Between the traffic noises, Daughtrys sex and gravel raspy rendition of Every Time You Turn Around wailing from the vans radio, and the rush of rain-soaked wind whipping against her face, she could hardly recognize her own voice, let alone get a bead on his. But it did sound familiar. Eerily so. A very real fear teamed up with that niggling recognition, when she recalled the spooky phone call shed fielded on the radio stations request line last week. That call remained vivid in

her mind. That call had had her looking over her shoulder ever since and stepping up her pace right now. When he matched her speed, she gave a dismissive wave of her hand, motioning him away. Just enjoying a walk in the rain, her suddenly springy steps implied. Yeah, right. Pneumonia wasnt an idea shed like to cozy up to, but neither was the prospect of being tomorrow mornings lead news story: Local radio celebrity, Jessie Fox, of the Falcon and the Fox late-night duo, was found murdered near her abandoned car on 1-8 early this morning. Another violent shiver, triggered by that thought, had her clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. More determined than ever to take her chances with the rain, she waved him on again. Thanks just the same. Theres a station up ahead, she added for emphasis, and prayed hed take the hint and move on. He didnt. She tried to ignore the squeal triggered by complaining brakes. When the passenger door swung open with a serrated creak and a sinister invitation, however, she stopped in her tracks. Her heart kept right on chugging. Compelled by a riveting combination of curiosity and fear, she squinted into the dimly lit interior of the van. Muzzy shadows and an overall impression of size and strength didnt do much to slow down the trip-hammer beat of her heart. She couldnt see his face from this angle, but what she could see sent another shiver rippling down her spine. The shoulders and chest filling out a black V-neck sweater were both broad and solid. The arms visible beneath the sleeves hed pushed up to mid-forearm were toned and tan. A swirl of dark chest hair peeked out of the Vneckline, and the column of his throat was drawn from lines both sinewy and strong. No ninety-pound weakling here. And no chance of holding her own if he decided to do things his way. No doubt about it, Jessie told herself, she should be running, not gawking. Yet she stood there, her eyes wide open and her mouth pinched shut. For Petes sake, he muttered. This is ridiculous. Would you just get in? Even through the rain and traffic noise, his tone implied that his was the voice of reason. Despite her doubts, she grappled with that persistent impression that she knew more about him than she was able to piece together. Still, she declined with a hesitant I dont think so. Suit yourself . . . but Ive got pizza. Pizza? She was going to be lured to Lord only knew what kind of fate by the promise of pizza?

No sooner had that implausible thought settled than a few brain synapses finally snapped together and made a connection with the resonant timbre of that voice. She dragged her sodden hair out of her eyes and bent down for a better look. Eyes as black as midnight and just as mysterious stared back at her from a face shrouded in shadows and a curtain of rain. They were dark, dangerous eyes that glinted in amusement . . . and familiar invitation. Still, it wasnt until he shifted behind the wheel to fully face her and the glare of headlights from an oncoming car set a flash of silver shimmering at the hollow of his throatan artfully molded falcon suspended from a silver chainthat the believer in her KOd the doubting Thomas. She almost laughed with relief. God was good. Even if he did have a warped sense of humor. It was the falcon she recognized, just as she finally recognized the smile of the man who wore it. Only one man she knew had a smile like that, encompassing, inviting, flirting yet guileless. Sinful yet sweet. Tony Falcone.

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