Page 25 of Kiss of Wrath

To the far center, Ruff had been raising his tail high, depositing a large pile of matter right next to a rosebush. She sure hoped doo-doo was a good fertilizer, or another bush in this once nicely landscaped setting would bite the dust. And it was not easy growing anything in this desert climate.

Front and center, a running hose had lain at the edge of a huge mud pool that had previously been her grassy backyard. Okay, somewhat grassy backyard, considering the pounding it got from three roughhousing boys. The kids had been begging for a pool for some time. Looked like they’d taken matters into their own hands. Ben and Sam and Larry were covered with the brown goop from head to bare toes. It was going to take hours to shower off the mud that no doubt filled every bodily crevice. The stains would never come out of their clothes. And God only knew if Miranda would be able to repair the damage to the grass. She might be forced to install a pool, after all.

To the left, Maggie had been coming from the garden shed. She’d been mud-free but had a clothespin on her nose and the pooper scooper in her hand heading toward Ruff’s latest “gift.” The children took turns every week with this distasteful task.

In the middle of all this, Linda, also mud-free, had been and still was clinging like Saran Wrap to the monstrously big thigh of a monstrously big man. Long, brownish-blond hair with crystals or gems of some kind intertwined in the two thin braids that framed a face with sharply sculpted Nordic features. About six foot four. Muscles apparent everywhere, even under cargo pants and an unbuttoned black shirt over a pure white T-shirt. A modern-day Viking, by the looks of him. Hey, she and the kids had watched the Viking series on the History Channel like millions of people. An educational as well as entertaining experience. Did he work for Valhalla, that new casino? If so, what was he doing here?

Amazing the things a woman noticed in the flash of a moment. But then, this kind of guy probably got lots of notice from women. Not that she was looking at him in that way. Much.

With delayed realization, like dominoes falling in her brain, several facts became apparent. There was a man here. A stranger! On her property! With her children!

Oh my God!

Was he a threat?

Of course he is. Look at the boys lined up like little soldiers staring up at him with fright. The man had a hand on one hip and was wagging a forefinger of the other hand at the boys, giving them some kind of lecture.

Where was Darla?

Oh my God!

Was Darla tied up in some closet? Or dead? Or lying upstairs on one of the beds, sated and boneless after hours of hot sex with a Viking? No, Darla wouldn’t be that irresponsible with kids in the house. Well, not usually.

The boys were the first to notice her as she stepped through the open sliding glass doors. Instead of looking relieved that she’d come to their rescue, they looked even more frightened. And guilty. Oooh, she knew that look well. What had they done now? Aside from turning the yard into a mud-wrestling arena? Could they have played some trick on this man as he walked innocently through the neighborhood and then he’d tracked them down here and now he had some sort of retribution in mind.

Over my dead body! She narrowed her eyes with menace and picked up the closest weapon. A broom.

“What the hell is going on here? And who the hell are you?” she demanded.

Normally, the kids would have been yelling, “Swear jar” at her for that slip of the tongue, but not now. Another clue that they were scared of this stranger. Or of her.

The man turned and froze. With a mixture of shock and wonder, he gazed at her through oddly sad, crystal blue eyes as if she were some heavenly apparition that had landed here, just for him. A gift from the gods. Not the usual reaction she got from men these days. Not when she often forgot to comb her hair or didn’t have time to apply makeup. The expression on his face soon turned to one of dismay, though. Was it her “weapon” or her scowl that brought about the transformation? Or had he got a better look and come to his senses? It didn’t matter.

“You heard me, buster. Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “And where’s Darla?”

“I believe . . . I believe I am the answer to your prayers,” he replied hesitantly and not at all happy about his assertion.

“Oh Lord! That tired old line!”

Before she could say more, the children all began to speak, at once.

“He’s the new nanny,” said Maggie, who had taken care of her doggie chore and had come up to stand beside her.

The man scowled at Maggie.

“Household manager,” she corrected. “Jeesh! I’m tryin’ to help you here. You could at least smile.”

“He’s a Viking, and he’s gonna show me his sword,” Larry declared.

The man scowled at Larry.

Larry ducked his head, then raised his chin defiantly. “Well, he is a Viking. He said so.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Linda said, peeking around the man’s leg. Poor Linda had been less than three years old when her father had been sent to prison, and she had no real recollection of him. She’d probably wiped out any bad memories as a defense mechanism as many children in abusive households did. As a result, she looked for a father figure everywhere. She’d no doubt asked this strange man if he was her daddy. In fact, Miranda glanced at Maggie and she nodded, as if understanding her aunt’s unspoken question.

“She couldn’t hurt me, little one,” the man said in a deep, rumbly voice, lifting Linda into his arms, gently, then setting her down on the patio chair.

“Is that so?” Miranda said, adjusting the broom better so the wooden handle was aimed roughly in the region of his flat belly.