This Side of Heaven

From out of nowhere it seemed to Cyn, her rescuer pulled a knife—longer, wider, larger than his opponent's. Within seconds he had knocked Lazarus's knife to the floor and turned him around to face Cyn, twisting his arm behind his back and holding the deadly blade to the boy's throat.

Cyn could see the fear plainly in Lazarus Jones's eyes. Obviously, he thought he was going to die. Cyn prayed he was wrong.

'I think you owe the lady an apology,' Nate said, let­ting the sharp blade of his knife rest against the boy's flesh.

'I... I'm sorry. I—'

'Please, let him go,' Cyn said.

'Should I let you go, Lazarus?' Nate asked, leaning down slightly so he was practically whispering in the boy's ear. 'Should I set you free so you can keep on selling drugs to other kids? So you can rob again, maybe even kill?'

'Hey, man, how the hell did you know—' Lazarus trembled with the certain fear of a man facing death.

Cyn felt hot, salty bile rise in her throat when she real­ized what kind of human beings she was dealing with. The boy was so brutal and uncaring, and her rescuer was twice as deadly as the boy. Dear Lord in heaven, this wasn't the kind of world she wanted to live in. She had spent the last ten years of her life trying to help change things, trying to make a difference. She hated violence, and yet she seemed unable to escape it.

Nate shoved Lazarus toward his companions. 'Get out of here, and pray to whatever God you believe in that our paths never cross again.'

Lazarus and his entourage left in a big hurry, Casey fol­lowing quickly. Bobby released Cyn's hand, but continued staring at the big man coming toward them.

'Bobby—' Cyn had no more than said his name when he ran. 'No, Bobby. Wait,' she cried out, but didn't try to follow him, knowing she would never catch him. Bobby was too adept at running and hiding.

Nate hadn't felt such rage in a long time. It had been years since he'd wanted to kill another man, but the moment that cocky boy had touched her, Nate had wanted to rip him apart. He hated to admit it, but the brutality within him, the way he so often used violence as a means to settle prob­lems, made him, in a strange way, no better than the smart-mouthed young hood he'd just subdued. Violence breeds violence. It was a fact he couldn't deny.

'Are you all right?' he asked, as he folded his lock-blade knife, reached beneath his jacket and slipped it into a leather sheath attached to his belt.

'Yes.' She stared up at him, her heart pounding so loud and wild she thought surely he could hear it.

'What the devil are you doing in a place like this? Don't you know you could have gotten yourself raped or killed?' He wanted to grab her and shake the living daylights out of her. Then he wanted to pick her up and carry her out of here to some isolated place where he could make love to her.

'Look, no one asked you to interfere,' Cyn said, tilting her chin upward in a defiant manner. 'What made you think I couldn't handle the situation?'

'What made me...?' Nate glared at her flushed face, noting the anger in her dark brown eyes. Rich, warm brown eyes. 'That young stud had plans for the two of you.'

'Do you realize that your interference could well have ruined a boy's life?' Even though she knew she should be thanking this man for coming to her rescue, she was lash­ing out at him, some deep-seated instinct warning her to protect herself from the emotions he had stirred to life within her.

Nate moved closer, but didn't touch her. 'What are you talking about? Which boy?'

'Bobby, the boy that was clutching my hand.' Cyn took several deep, calming breaths. 'Bobby's a runaway who has been staying at Tomorrow House, and we had just about talked him into trying a new foster home.'

'Tomorrow House?' Nate's stomach tightened. Hell and damnation, what was she, some sort of social worker? Might know, the first woman he'd truly wanted in years would turn out to be some bright-eyed, sanctimonious do-gooder. 'Don't tell me, you're some sort of undercover nun, out to save the world.'

Cyn stiffened her spine, gritted her teeth and glared up at Rambo-to-the-Rescue. 'I'm Cynthia Porter, and I'm assis­tant director at Tomorrow House, a church home for run­away children. Two of our boys, Bobby and Casey, came here tonight to buy drugs. I came here to try to persuade them not to. To try to get Bobby to return to a place where he feels safe.''

Nate could see the zealous determination in her eyes. Rich, warm brown eyes. 'The kid will probably come back on his own.'

'After what happened here tonight, I'm not so certain. You scared him half to death.' Cyn noticed that the man who'd been watching from several tables over had just got­ten up and was walking toward them. 'Your friend?' she asked.

Nate felt Nick Romero's approach, slanted his eyes just enough to pick up the other man's shadow in his peripheral vision, and nodded affirmatively. He wondered if this woman realized that they'd met before. She'd made no ref­erence to having seen him on the beach. 'Romero, meet Cynthia Porter, assistant director at some shelter for run­aways.'

Romero reached out and took Cyn's hand, brought it to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss across her knuck­les. 'I'm delighted, Ms. Porter. I was afraid Nate might forget to introduce us. I'm Nicholas Romero, and the man who just saved you from a rather unpleasant evening is Na­than Hodges. But you can call him Nate.'

Nathan? Nathan Hodges. Nate. His name was Nate. Cyn noticed the stormy darkness in his eyes as he glared at his friend. Up until this very moment she'd thought his eyes were deep, dark brown because they appeared almost black. But they weren't brown. They were green—an incredibly dark green. Powerful eyes. Stunningly green, set in a hard, bronzed face with sharp cheekbones, a strong nose and a wide, full mouth. Recognition shot through her like a surge of electricity. Those were his eyes. Her phantom protector. Her dream lover.

She stared at him, unable to stop herself. Her breathing quickened, her pulse accelerated, her flesh tingled with some unknown excitement.

It isn't him, she told herself. It can't be.

Nate studied her closely as she stared at him. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a beautiful woman—every fea­ture perfect, combining to create an unforgettable face. Large brown eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Small, tip-tilted nose, luscious, full-lipped mouth. And golden blond hair hanging in long silken waves down to her tiny waist.

He looked at her, lost in the warmth of her rich brown eyes. He knew those eyes. They had haunted his dreams for twenty-five years.

The blood in his veins ran hot and wild, some primitive longing surging through him. He couldn't, wouldn't, give a name to what he was feeling.

It isn't her, he told himself. It couldn't be.

'Could we give you a ride home, Ms. Porter?' Nick Romero smiled as he looked back and forth from Nate to Cyn.

'What?' she asked, aware of nothing and no one except the big, dark man whose green eyes held her under their spell.

'I asked if you came here in a cab and need a ride home. I'd be glad to take you.' Romero grasped Cyn's hand.

'I'll take her.' Placing his arm around Cyn's shoulder, Nate gave his old friend a warning glare.

Romero released her and stepped backward, grinning.

'That... that won't be necessary, thank you,' she said. 'I drove here. I'm parked out front.'

'Then let us escort you,' Romero said.

'I will.' Nate pulled Cyn close to his side, completely ig­noring Romero.

Before Cyn knew what had happened, Nate had escorted her outside. She felt overwhelmed. Nate Hodges was quite a commanding person.

'Where's your car?' he asked.

'It's the white van over there.' She pointed down the street. 'I'll be all right now. Thanks.'

Nate didn't release her. Cyn sighed, and allowed him to walk her to her van. Opening her purse, she fumbled with the keys, almost dropping them. Nate took the gold initial key ring from her trembling fingers.

'Don't ever do something this stupid again,' he said as he inserted the key and unlocked the van.