Stone Kiss

25

She didn’t want to be angry, not in front of Jonathan, but her stomach was swirling with anxiety. It was completely irresponsible of him to stay in New York when clearly someone wanted him to leave.

Someone wanted both of them to leave.

Maybe that wasn’t quite true, because analyzing what had happened to her this afternoon, Rina concluded that it was just as likely-no, it was more likely-that the shooter had been after Donatti, not her. She had just been in the wrong place… or maybe-yes, likely-he had been following her like he had before, and that had put her in the wrong place. Or maybe he knew something she didn’t know and he had been watching her…

Maybe she shouldn’t try to sort it out because her thoughts were a jumbled mess. She sat back in the seat and heaved a big sigh.

“I know, I know,” Decker said. “I cut it too close.”

“What took you so long?” Rina couldn’t hide her irritation. It wasn’t good to be peeved with Peter in front of Hannah, either.

“Just stupid stuff,” Decker admitted. “I’m very sorry.”

“I’m fifteen minutes away,” Jonathan said. “You should be all right.”

“When are you coming, Daddy?”

Hannah had asked the same question five minutes ago. Decker said, “On Friday, pumpkin.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

The girl nodded, but she was clearly upset.

“I promise, Hannah Rosie,” Decker emphasized. “I’ll be there. You can sit on my lap when I make Kiddush.”

“You stand when you make Kiddush,” Hannah pointed out.

“Afterward,” Decker assured her. “When I eat.”

“I can sit on your lap the whole meal?”

“Most of the meal.”

The child stared at her mother. Rina took her hand. “He’ll come, Hannah. He just has a few details-”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted. “I hope Grandma will bake with me.”

“I’m sure Grandma will bake with you.”

“I like her cookies.”

“She makes very good cookies.”

“We’re here.” Jonathan scanned the various areas to park. Most of the signs registered full. “It’s going to be tough finding a space.”

“Just drop us off,” Rina told him. “We’ll be fine.”

Decker said, “You’ve got a heavy suitcase.”

“I’ll manage,” Rina answered. “There’s a spot right over there, Jonathan. Pull over and drop us off.”

Decker knew she was upset. “I’ll help-”

“I don’t need help.” Rina tried to keep the tension out of her voice. It wasn’t working. “I need you to be okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” Then she silenced herself. Jonathan eased the van curbside. Rina bounded out and lifted open the hatch.

Decker was at her side. “I’ll get it.”

“I can get it-”

He held her arm. “Rina, please, don’t be this way. I love you. Please!”

Her heart relented. Gently, she touched his eye. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not nearly as much as your anger.”

She kissed him softly. “I love you. So do your children. And your parents. And your sibling… siblings. You have lots of people who love you.”

“I know that.” He grabbed the suitcase handle and hefted the valise out of the van. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“I hope you mean that. I’m skeptical of your story about being punched.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“The verdict’s still out.” Rina yanked up the handle and wheeled the suitcase over to the entrance, showing the security guard the tickets.

Decker picked up his daughter and gave her a big hug. “I love you, muffin.”

“I love you, too.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“Take care of your mother.”

“I think she’s ’posed to take care of me.”

“How about if you take care of each other? Sound good?”

“I guess.”

Decker lowered his daughter to the sidewalk. Rina hugged Jonathan, then kissed her husband. “We’ve got to go.”

Jonathan offered Rina ten dollars. “Tzedaka money.”

Rina took the bill. “Next time, Jonathan, it will be under better circumstances. Auf simchas.”

“Amen!”

Decker kissed his daughter, then his wife. “I love my girls. Take care.”

Rina took Hannah’s hand in her right, the luggage in her left, and fast-walked through the glass doors. After standing in a line for check-in, she made it through security with time to spare.

The flight had been delayed.

But in this case, the respite was welcome. She took a hard bench seat in the terminal. Hannah unleashed her backpack from her shoulders, took out a book, and began to read.

“Do you want something to eat?” Rina asked her.

“No, Eema, I’m fine.”

Rina sat back and closed her eyes. Then they sprang open, and she bolted upright.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked her.

“Uh…” Think of something quick. “I forgot something. Not important. I’ll get it at Grandma’s.”

Hannah shrugged and went back to her book. Rina chided herself. How could she possibly relax? This afternoon, someone had fired bullets in her direction-although the shots were clearly meant for Donatti… most likely meant for Donatti. Or…

A warning for Peter?

The problem was that she just didn’t know!

If she wanted resolution, she was going to have to out-Peter Peter in the legwork department, because there was only one way to find out.

“I have to make a private call, Hannaleh.”

The little girl looked up.

“I’m going to move a couple of seats away.”

“I won’t listen, Eema.”

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s better if you don’t hear.” Rina took an empty seat across from her, then fished the cell phone from her purse. Randy answered right away.

“Hey, sis. You’re delayed. Big surprise, huh.”

“An hour so far. Is this going to be stressful on Mom? We’re not getting in until nearly one.”

“No, because I’m going to pick you up. I already sent Mom and Dad to bed.”

Silence.

Randy said, “What is it, Rina? Is he all right?”

“Someone punched his face, Randy.”

More silence.

“He insists on staying. I’m worried.”

“Want me to come to New York?”

“It may come to that. We’ll talk when I get there.”

“Don’t worry, Rina. He’s been around long enough to know his limits. He’s not a reckless man.”

“I hope you’re right.” She summoned up her courage. “Randy, I’m very tired. Since the flight is delayed for who knows how long, I was thinking that maybe… could you maybe just pick us up in the morning?”

Silence.

“Would that be possible?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“I figured I’ll go back to Brooklyn-”

“Rina, you’re bluffin’ me. What are you up to?”

“Randy, I need to talk to someone-”

“Who?”

She didn’t answer him. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. I’ll catch an early-morning flight. Get into Orlando around nine. Will that work?”

“Yeah, it’ll work. But I don’t like it.”

“Then you won’t like the next part, either. I don’t want Peter to know about it. I’ll call him tonight. But if he calls tomorrow to check up on things, or to talk to Hannah, can you cover for me?”

No response over the line.

“Randy-”

“I heard you. Rina, letting Pete poke around is one thing. You’re a completely different story. What in heaven’s name are you thinking?”

“Please, Randy! It’s just until tomorrow morning.” A pause.

“Please?”

“You two deserve each other.” Displeasure in his voice. “What are you going to do with Hannah?”

“I’ll take her back to Brooklyn. That’s a given-”

“You and me need to have a good, long talk when you get in tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell you everything I know. Start to finish, Randy, I promise.”

“I love that guy. He’s the only brother I got. And I’m rather fond of you.”

“I won’t do anything stupid.”

“I wish I believed that.” A pause. “Okay.” More resolute this time. “Okay, I’ll cover for you. I have to talk to Pete anyway. He asked for some information, and I may have something for him tomorrow morning.”

“He called you?”

“A couple of days ago, yeah.”

“What did he ask you about?”

“That’s not for me to say. Rina, I swear to God, you better know what you’re doing, because I’m Hannah’s legal guardian. If something happens to both of you, do you want me raising your daughter?”

Randy was on wife number four. He was making a very strong point.

“I think you’re a fine man.”

“That may be, sis, but we have differing styles. I’m bringing it down to a level you can understand.”

“I hear you. Thank you very much.”

“I’ll feel a lot better when you thank me in person.”

By the time she got back to Manhattan, it was almost midnight. To her surprise, she made it uptown in twenty minutes, amazed at how fast she could cross the city without traffic as an impediment. Still, she didn’t get out right away, sitting in Sora Lazarus’s old Honda, staring at the building. She was on a tight schedule. It was do or die. Finally, she pulled the door handle and made the plunge, locking the car with the remote. A quick glance around, then she ran over to the building’s lobby.

No listing for Donatti.

Either he was unlisted or she had the wrong numbers. By now, it was way too late to start pushing random buzzers, but having come this far, she wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat. Noting that the fifth and sixth floors were taken up by one tenant, MMO, she figured that maybe that was her best bet. But before she could depress the corresponding white button, the door barked out an irritating drone.

She went in, stopping in front of the elevator.

Where to?

No idea.

He’d come get her.

And he did-sunken eyes, pale lips, and a complexion that was florid and pallid at the same time. He wore black sweatpants and a loose white T-shirt. His feet were bare. He crooked a finger and she followed. The silent ride up was incredibly slow. As they got out, he put his finger to his lips, then took her through an anteroom with a metal detector. When Rina set it off, he shushed her silently and waved her forward, through a door and into a spacious loft filled with windows that framed city lights. A pile of broken glass and tangled metal took up most of the center area. To the right was a zone devoted to photography equipment; three doors took up the left-hand wall. He opened one of them, then stepped aside, indicating that she should go in first.

She did.

The room was spacious enough, but claustrophobic simply because it lacked the tall windows of the studio. No windows period. He bolted the door shut, then turned on a series of switches that illuminated a panel in Christmas-tree colors, and started the whirling of an overhead fan. Monitors from video cameras showed different positions around the building. The man wasn’t taking chances.

He sat down, and so did she. She was much more nervous than she thought she would be. She allowed herself a minute of thinking time, then spoke.

“I just have one question.”

Donatti waited.

“Do you know who hurt Peter?”

He took in her clear aqua eyes and said nothing.

“Was it you?”

Still, no response.

“Did you punch my husband?” Rina demanded to know.

He smiled, but it was a weak one. “Mea culpa.”

Rina slumped back in her chair and placed her hands over her mouth. Tears dropped down from her eyes. “Thank you, God!” She exhaled exhilaration. “I thought someone was trying to kill him.”

“Maybe someone is.” His voice was a whisper. “Maybe that someone is me.”

“Nonsense!” Rina dismissed him. “Why would you let him go? Why would you have let me go?”

“I like playing head games.” His eyes locked onto her face.

Abruptly, she felt herself go hot. She said, “I woke you up.”

“No, I was awake.”

For the first time, she realized how compromised he was. His face was sopping wet. He dabbed his brow with a damp towel that had been on his desk. She felt ashamed of herself.

“You’re ill. How can I help you?”

“Interesting question.” A look. “You can start by taking off my shirt.”

She got up, and so did he, towering over her. That was okay. She was used to that. With steady hands, she lifted the cotton tee over his gun, over his bandaged ribs, then over his head. Her nose was hit with a strong stench-sweat, decay, and infection-made even more intense because the room wasn’t well ventilated. The gauze was saturated and had turned rusty brown. “Let me take a look-”

“Leave me alone.” He sat back down. “I haven’t had a mother in over a decade and I don’t want one now. You have to get out of this city, Mrs. Decker. The lieutenant would be wise to leave, but he probably won’t because he’s a stubborn man. Besides, he can take care of himself.”

“Was… you know… was it for you or for me?”

“This?” He pointed to his ribs.

Rina nodded. “Yes, that.”

“I have some ideas. Don’t worry. I’ll find out. I have to find out. Something like this can ruin a hard-earned reputation like that!” He snapped his fingers. “Whoever it is… whoever he was after… he’s not too good at what he does. Because we’re both still alive.”

Rina shuddered. “Why would he be after me?”

“I’m not saying he is. But if he is, you can probably answer that question better than I can.”

“I didn’t think Peter was even close.”

“Then maybe it’s time to stop and take stock.” He closed his eyes and tried to breathe away the pain. “Whoever this was meant for is irrelevant. Outcome is outcome. You owe me.”

“You saw the person?”

“I saw enough glint of metal to know what was coming. I’m attuned to that kind of thing… very… detail oriented.”

Again she heard him gasping for air. “Let me see the wound.”

“It’s nothing. Strictly superficial. It nicked a few ribs. Listen, Mrs. Decker, if you get out now, no one has to know. Especially your husband.”

“I plan to do just that. Originally I was supposed to go out tonight. As a matter of fact, the lieutenant thinks we’ve gone out tonight.” She took out her cell phone. “Can I make a call?”

Donatti pushed his phone over the desktop. “Your cell won’t register in here.”

Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and called Peter, pretending that they had landed and everything was fine. He kept asking her if she was okay. He could hear the anxiety in her voice. Somehow she managed to convince him that Hannah was too cranky to talk to him, and Randy had to concentrate on his driving. He believed her. Why should he not believe her? She knew she should feel guilty, but she didn’t. The subterfuge was worth everything. That his swollen face had come from Donatti’s fist was a big relief. A known quantity-albeit evil-was still better than the unknown.

When she hung up, Donatti was looking at her, an amused smile on his face. “Very sneaky, Mrs. Decker. And not very religious, if you ask me.”

“On the contrary, it’s called keeping the peace on the home front. Shalom bayit.” She clasped her hands together. “How did you know I was in danger?”

Donatti slumped back in the chair. “I could give you a line. Tell you lies and you’d believe every one of them. About how I was being chivalrous and trying to protect you. I didn’t know you were in danger until I saw the piece. The truth is, I was stalking you, Mrs. Decker. I get a real sexual buzz by spying on women who are unavailable to me. After Terry broke with me-before we reestablished contact-I used to spy on her all the time. I still do. It really excites me.”

Rina couldn’t hold his eyes. A warm blush swept through her face.

“You’re nervous. That also gives me a buzz. Don’t worry. I’m not going to touch you. I don’t believe in taking women by force. However, if you’re interested, all you gotta do is wink. I’m not as sick as I look.”

“Remember what I told you that day at the park?” Rina said. “I’ve reinstated every single word.”

Donatti managed a fleeting smile. “Well, then, since sex is out and your plane isn’t scheduled to leave for four hours, do you want to crash here?”

Rina’s eyes went back to his bandage. “Your wound is oozing, Mr. Donatti. Please let me take a look at it.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in pain. If it’s only pain, then you’re fine. But if your wound is festering, you’ve got a serious problem. Just stand up and let me take a peek. Even if you’re fine, your bandage needs to be changed.”

Donatti stalled, then got up from his chair. A moment later, she was close to him, her eyes level with his waist. He could feel her breath on his oversensitive skin. She began to peel back the layers of bandage. As she worked, he focused in on her face, a mask of concentration. Instantly, he was aware of her fingertips brushing against him. Not even a smidgen of sexual overtone.

Rina regarded his wound-red and swollen and oozing. A brownish raised ring sat on the left side of his rib cage. Next to it, the skin was torn and shredded. It was especially jarring because the bullet holes sat on his otherwise perfect body. “You got hit twice. First one’s just a graze wound. Second one went in and out.”

“I’m all right.”

“That may be, but it’s more than superficial. What do you have by way of medicines?”

He reached into his file cabinet and handed her a large plastic shopping bag filled with dozens of vials of pills, creams, ointments, and medical supplies-bandages, tape, clips, cotton balls, cotton swabs, and even a suture needle. The pills were prescription drugs that had been tagged but were without proper labels. No dosage, no Rx, no instructions whatsoever. There were antibiotics, anti-inflammatory medication, anabolic steroids, including a full course of prednisone, and at least ten different types of pain medication, including codeine and morphine.

“Did you get these on the black market or something?”

“I don’t believe in paying retail.”

Rina dispensed with the lecture. She began to sort through the various medications. “What are you taking?”

Donatti sorted through the bottles. “I think I’m taking this one.”

“Amoxicillin?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that an antibiotic? I took it when I had a sort throat.”

“Except you don’t have a sore throat, Mr. Donatti. You have a bullet wound.” Rina studied the medicines. “This will do-Keflex. It might upset your stomach. Take it anyway. You have enough for ten days. You’ll probably need more. What you really need is a doc-”

“Are you done?”

“No, Christopher, I am not done. I haven’t even started. I want to clean this up. To do it properly, it’ll take a while.”

“I’m tired.”

“So am I. The sooner we start, the faster it’ll be done.”

“Then you’ll leave?”

“Yes.”

“Anything to get rid of you.”

Rina told herself to start with the basic. “I need to wash my hands.”

He thought a moment, then reached in his file cabinet and took out several shrink-wrapped packages of latex surgical gloves. Good ones-strong and thin. Rina stared at them, then at him. Then snapped them over her hands.

“Even better.” She sat on a chair while he stood. She took a cotton swab and began to clean the suppurated area.

He winced and jumped.

“Sorry, I know it stings.”

He wrinkled his nose. “It stings and it stinks.”

“It’s infected.”

She worked in silence. A minute passed, then another.

Donatti said, “You have a light touch.”

“Good.”

“You’re not very squeamish for a religious woman.”

“That’s a non sequitur.”

“You’ve done this before.”

A statement, not a question. “Yes.”

“Nursing the lieutenant’s gunshot wounds?”

“Actually, yes, I’ve done that. But my experience goes beyond that. When I first got married, I lived in Israel… during the Lebanon invasion, about eighteen years ago. I lived in what you people in America call a settlement way back when it really was a settlement-”

She stopped talking, needing to concentrate for a moment.

“Today these settlements are actually towns. Besides, I prefer to think of it as resettlement, but that’s my bias talking. Anyway, a group of us pioneer women decided to do our bit for our soldiers on the front lines. Six of us went up North to help out. I was all of twenty. There was this medical camp at the border-makeshift of course, but it had good equipment. There were around… oh, fifty beds maybe. The first day there was awful-the moaning, the groaning, the wounds, the smells, the injuries. The second wasn’t any better. But by the end of a week, you either leave, or you do something useful. Once you’ve learned, you never forget.”

Donatti was stunned. “So what did the lieutenant do while you were nursing soldiers?”

“I suppose he was doing police work in Los Angeles.” She threw pus-filled swabs into the garbage and regarded his eyes. “I wasn’t married to Lieutenant Decker back then, Christopher. I lived in Israel with my first husband.”

Donatti was silent. Then he said, “You’re divorced?”

“Married at seventeen, two baby boys by twenty, a widow at twenty-four.”

Donatti raised his eyebrows, then stifled a yelp.

“Sorry. I need to clean out this fold. It’s a little deep.”

The room fell quiet.

Donatti said, “So Decker’s not the father of your sons.”

“Not the biological father, no.”

“Does he get along with them?”

“Very well actually.”

“How’d you meet him? Decker?”

“My first husband and I eventually moved back to the States. We lived in an insulated, religious community. My husband died there, but I stayed on. A crime occurred and the lieutenant was in charge of the investigation. I, being unattached and tremendously attracted to the man, acted as a go-between for the police.”

“What kind of a crime?”

“Rape. Back then, the lieutenant was a Sex Crimes detective.”

“Someone try to rape you?”

She stopped. “I didn’t say anything about my being the victim.”

“I just assumed.”

Rina didn’t answer. But Donatti saw her jaw tighten. “I’ve upset you. I’ll shut up.”

“You didn’t upset me.” But she fell into silence, chewing on her swollen lip as she tried to keep her composure.

Donatti felt for her. He said, “My old man was an Irish two-fisted drunk. Used to pummel me all the time. Just beat the crap out of me. When I was seven, he got drunk and repeatedly kicked me between the legs. I lost a testicle.”

Rina froze. “That’s absolutely horrible!”

“It wasn’t pretty, especially because I didn’t get proper cosmetic surgery right away. I used to hide underneath a towel at gym.” His laugh was bitter. “Guys used to think it was because I was a big guy with a small you know what.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Rina bit hard on her lip. The scab opened up and bled into her mouth, but she continued dressing the shot wounds.

Donatti went on. “He beat my mother, too.” His face darkened. “Cops were called in at least a dozen times. Didn’t do shit… Bastards didn’t give a damn. They’d haul him in, put him in jail to sleep it off overnight, give him breakfast in the morning, and spring him. A couple days, maybe a week later, same thing, same routine. ‘Hey, Patty! Don’t we always tell you to hit her where we can’t see?’ Just one big sick joke. Worst feeling in the world… being helpless.”

“That’s terrible.”

Donatti grew black and silent.

“I can’t fathom how someone could repeatedly beat up on a child.” Rina’s voice broke. “You poor thing.”

“S’right.” Donatti was touched by her empathy. “I survived. And I obviously don’t have a hormone problem.”

“Obviously not.”

“Thank God for small favors.” Donatti wiped his perspiration-soaked face with a towel. “It’s not such a small favor. From two to one is livable. One to none is not. Eventually, I got cosmetic surgery. You couldn’t tell anything just by looking.” A grin. “Wanna see?”

“You must be feeling better,” Rina commented. “You’re making lewd remarks.”

“Just some harmless flirting.” His smile turned to a stony expression. “I don’t remember the last time I just flirted. I’m so used to using sex as a weapon. Comes from being molested, you know.”

She stopped cold. “Your father molested you?”

Donatti noticed that she had gone pale. This time, he had hit something potent. “No, my father used me for a punching bag. Joey Donatti-my adoptive father-he used me as his bitch.”

He looked away.

“My mother was Joey’s mistress. He was crazy about her. After she died, I was an orphan and Joey took me in. Probably a deathbed promise he made to her. I was almost fourteen… at that weird in-between stage… not yet in full-blown puberty. Full of pimples, gawky. I was tall but skinny. Lithe, actually. Waiting for the muscles to come. I had long blond hair at the time… down to my shoulders.” He brushed his deltoid with his fingertips. “The fashion of the day.”

He glanced down, into Rina’s eyes.

“I looked like my mother. Joey used to take me into a room, make me kneel in front of him.” A pause. “He had me perform oral sex on him while he ran his fingers through my hair.”

“Oh my God!”

“It went on for about a year, maybe a little longer. Then his wife finally caught on… gave him some choice words. Also, I became too much of a man for him to pretend. But even so, whenever he’d kiss me, he’d jam his tongue down my throat. I still kiss him that way. Only now, I jam my tongue down his throat. That’s not sex, Mrs. Decker; that’s a power position. He’s my bitch instead of the other way around.”

Rina’s eyes moistened. “The man who was responsible for the rape in my community… he molested my children… my younger son in particular. Ten years later and my son’s still suffering. I only found out about it a year ago. You can imagine my guilt.”

“Does your son hold it against you?”

“No, not at all. Do you hold it against your mother?”

“No.”

“My son tries to protect me. My poor baby.”

“How is he suffering?”

She stared into space. “Maybe suffering is too strong a word.”

But Donatti knew it wasn’t.

Rina said, “He’s better now. But he had some drug problems, probably acted out sexually, although he’d never tell me that.” She stopped, trying to rein in her feelings. “He’s so brilliant, Christopher. Brilliant and popular with boys as well as girls. He’s absolutely gorgeous. The girls just love him.” She studied Donatti’s face. “Maybe that’s not such a good thing.”

“It’s a double-edged sword.” Donatti paused. “Your son… does he look like you?”

Rina didn’t answer.

Donatti said, “Could be it was like Joey. That the bastard wanted you, but he took your son instead.” He laughed. “Bet you never thought we’d have anything in common, Mrs. Decker. What happened to him? The unnamed molester.”

“He spent time in prison. He’s been out on parole for three years.”

“Where is he now?”

“Somewhere in the Midwest.”

“Somewhere in the Midwest, huh?” Donatti laughed. “You’ve probably memorized his address, his phone number, and everything about him, including how many times a day he pees.”

“Two-one-five Kingsley Avenue, Medford, Indiana. And yes, I do know his phone number, as well as where he works, and what car he drives, and which church he attends. However, I don’t know how many times a day he goes to the bathroom.”

He smiled. “Okay. Now I know you’re for real. Has he bothered you?”

“No, he has not. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my son’s problems began around the same time he was released. Hold still, please.”

Rina continued on, grateful for his silence as she cleansed, swabbed, and dressed his sores. He managed to keep from squirming, even though she knew the procedures had to hurt. His eyes were wet with pain, but she wondered how much of it was physical discomfort, how much was emotional remnants of what he had just confessed. When she was done, she stood up. “You want me to put your shirt back on?”

“No thanks, Mrs. Decker, the thought of anything touching my skin raises my hackles.”

“I suppose this is the part where I thank you for saving my life.”

“Want to pay me back?”

“No sexual comments, please.”

“None. I’d like to draw you.”

“No.”

“I’ll behave both on the paper and off the paper. Nothing you wouldn’t like or approve of. Nothing you couldn’t show in public.”

“No.”

“You know, you’re in my place. I was gracious enough to talk to you. Not to mention the fact that I prevented your children from being motherless.”

She met his eyes with her own. “The last time you drew someone, you ended up in prison. Learn from experience, Christopher. Besides, I have to get back to Brooklyn to pick up my daughter. That’s your cue to let me out.”

“You mean, you don’t like the stench of rotten meat?” He unlocked the door and she walked into the open space. It felt as if she’d been released from jail. Suddenly, her head began to spin.

“You look pale,” Donatti said. “Maybe you should rest.”

Rina felt weak. “Maybe for just a few moments.” She fell into a chair, her head having exploded into a million pinpricks. She propped her feet on a box. “Gosh, I’m so dizzy!”

“It’s breathing in all that alcohol in confined quarters.”

“It didn’t bother you.”

“I’ve sucked up more chemicals than a laboratory hood. My brain’s used to it.” Donatti regarded her. “I could draw you just like that.”

Rina covered her face with her purse. “Go away! Go to sleep. I’ll let myself out.”

“Sure. In a minute.”

He waited a minute. In fact, he waited five minutes-the time it took for Rina to doze off. Fifteen minutes later, her sleep was deep. The purse, which had covered her face, had slid down to her chest and rested on her bosom, rising and falling with each breath she took. Donatti watched her slumber, his eyes studying her face and body. Even in repose, she maintained modesty, her legs crossed at the ankles, her dress pulled down to her knees.

He’d wake her in an hour. While he waited, he went to his art-supply cabinet and with great effort lugged out his charcoals and several pads of paper. Though he sketched Rina, his thoughts, as always, drifted to Terry. His longing for her was so all encompassing that his throat clogged. He wondered what she was doing, if she ever thought of him when they weren’t together.

Terry had been right about one thing. He wasn’t marriage material. Nor was he paternal material. Though he loved Gabriel on some egotistical level-something that had emanated from his debilitated loins-he purposely kept his distance. Maybe Gabe could live the life that fate had prevented him from having. But it wasn’t just karma that had turned him bad. Had Donatti been of stronger character, he could have pulled away. But he wasn’t that strong-and he was that lazy. Equally as important, his current life was a rush-exciting, unpredictable, a chemical and sexual high. He was too entrenched to go back. He, like Esau, was a natural hunter.

His eyes drifted onto Rina’s outline. He had told her he didn’t force women. And that was true. He didn’t force women-unless he wanted to. Rules were good until they weren’t good. Then he broke them. There was a time-not long ago at all-when he had thought about fucking her in every orifice, using every position known in the Kama Sutra while she begged him not to. Yeah, he’d force her at first. That was the thrill. Then, of course, she’d get into it. She’d start moaning and groaning and plead with him not to stop. She would buck under his weight, writhing in pleasure until she’d ultimately give way to orgasm. And then after she had come, after every cell in her body had been spent from climax, he’d pop her: a quick shot to the chest, exploding her heart. His final revenge on Decker because the motherfucker had taken Terry away from him.

But now as he sketched her, witnessing her sleep so pure, so complete, Rina had transformed in his mind into all that was chaste and good. Any sexual fantasy with her would be totally obscene-an act of incest. Any thoughts of harming her had been erased from his mind.

His own mother had died when he was fourteen.

Maybe this one would stick around a little longer.

His own Madonna.

The image sat well with him.