Starsky dropped Angela off and headed home for a shower and change of clothes. As he drove, the events of the last few days played back in his head. He couldn’t believe his extraordinarily good fortune at having met Angela.

There he’d been, just picking up a few things to restock the fridge, when he and this incredibly sexy woman had reached for the same box of taco shells. Being the consummate gentleman, Starsky had graciously surrendered them to her. They started talking about food, and found they had similar tastes. That, in itself, was unusual. Most

of the women Starsky knew, were into salads and healthy Hutch-type foods, but Angela seemed to like all the same things he did. He naturally took that as a sign that they were going to hit it off. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, they were having a candlelight dinner at Angela’s apartment.

Even he had been astounded at how quickly the romance had progressed. They’d barely finished their meal before she’d lured him into the bedroom to make love with her. Angela was an aggressive gal all right—one with insatiable appetites. Generally, Starsky went in for the old-fashioned type, but he found himself exhilarated at being the prey, rather than the hunter for once.

Since that afternoon ten days ago, he’d spent almost every off-duty moment he had with her. The only thing that bothered him was that creepy uncle of hers. Built like a lumberjack and about as bright as a dim light bulb, Demetrius was a brutish fellow who seldom spoke. Starsky had noticed the way he watched Angela when he was around; more like a body guard than an uncle. He made Starsky downright uncomfortable sometimes. But he seemed harmless, and perhaps a little lonely.

Starsky was pretty worn out from the late hours and lack of rest, but found himself drawn to Angela like an addictive drug. When he thought about it, he felt a twinge of guilt about ignoring his friends and letting his job performance slip. He knew Hutch had had to cover for him with Dobey at least twice already. Maybe he’d catch up on his rest over the next couple of days while he and Hutch were off-duty. Starsky grinned to himself. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t.

Hutch stepped out of the shower and hurried to wrap a towel around his waist. Why did the damn phone always ring when he was in the shower? He scurried to the other room and grabbed the receiver off the hook just in time.

"Hutch? Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, I just got out of the shower. What’s up, Starsk?"

"Hutch...I’m...uh...sorry...but we’ll have to take a rain check on tonight."

"What?"

"I said, Angela and I can’t make it tonight." Hutch could hear the disappointment in his friend’s voice; still, he felt a flash of impatience.

"Why not? What’s the deal?"

"She’s got a killer headache. She gets migraines," Starsky explained. "You know how that is."

"She was fine two hours ago," Hutch snapped. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry about the last minute change in plans, but he was.

"It hit her at the beauty salon. She’s layin’ down right now. I’m really sorry, partner. We were lookin’ forward to spending the evening with you."

Hutch felt his temper flare. It was a small thing, he realized, but for some reason he believed it was just another ploy of Angela’s to isolate Starsky from everyone except herself. Why couldn’t Starsky see that?

"How convenient," he mumbled into the receiver.

"What?"

"Nothing, Starsk."

"I heard ya, Hutch. Why the hell would you say somethin’ like that? I told ya, she’s sick."

It was all the opening he needed. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because your lady friend has found yet another excuse to avoid spending any time with your friends. You do remember us, don’t you, buddy? The people you used to like? Those of us who used to be a part of your life?" Hutch could hear himself saying the hurtful words, but seemed powerless to stop them from tumbling forth.

"What? Now hold on just one minute—"

"No, Starsky, let me say what I think for once! Okay? You’re acting like a ridiculous, love-sick school boy. You moon over this woman like she’s the first one you ever slept with. Get a grip, partner! You’re going off the deep end here, and I’m concerned about you."

Suddenly he was out of steam and out of words. All the anger that had been building since meeting Angela two hours earlier had erupted like a volcano. Hutch felt relieved, but at the same time, more than a little mortified by his own behavior. The silence between them was palpable.

When Starsky finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. "Are you finished?"

Hutch answered meekly, "Yeah. I guess I am. Listen, Starsk, I—"

"I don’t wanna hear it, Hutch. You know what I think? I think you’re jealous ‘cause someone like Angela can be in love with a guy like me. I thought you were my best friend. I thought you’d be happy for me."

He paused, only for a second. "She’s too good to be true, Hutch, and I ain’t gonna let you, or anybody else spoil this for me. I’m gonna hang up now before I say somethin’ I’ll really regret later." And with a click, he was gone.

The silence was deafening, leaving Hutch feeling cold and dead inside. He quietly dropped the receiver back into the cradle, sat speechless for a moment, then picked it back up and dialed Starsky’s number. After the eleventh ring, he hung up and tried Angela’s. No response there either. Obviously, Starsky assumed it was Hutch and refused to answer. For a moment, he considered driving over to Angela’s apartment to try and straighten things out, then realized he didn’t even know her address.

God, what have I done? Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was Starsky right? Was he just jealous because his friend had found someone to love and he was still alone? He had to admit he’d had his share of failed romances.

No—there was more to it than that. Something was wrong with this whole thing. Hutch couldn’t lay his finger on it, but he knew instinctively that Angela wasn’t what she appeared to be; and, eventually, Starsky would suffer because of it. The only thing he could do now was get the facts about this woman, and present them to Starsky. That is, if he’d listen.

First thing in the morning, he’d start checking out her background; and that ‘Uncle Demetrius’ of hers. Starsky would have to believe him, if he had the proof.

"David?"

Starsky turned to find Angela standing within arms reach behind him. He hadn’t realized she was there, and hoped she hadn’t overheard too much of his conversation with Hutch.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked.

"Nah. Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Why aren’t you lyin’ down?"

"I’m feeling much better." She came closer and wrapped her arms around Starsky’s waist. "Were you arguing with Hutch just now?"

"Nothin’ serious. He’s just disappointed we won’t be able to make it tonight."

Angela lifted her face and looked up with sad eyes. "Oh...I’m sorry I spoiled your evening."

Starsky reached out and smoothed an errant lock of hair back from her brow. "Forget it. I didn’t care about goin’ out. I just wanna be with you. And here’s as good a place as any." He smiled, then kissed the tip of her nose.

"David, I only want to be with you too."

Starsky gazed down into her ice blue eyes, mesmerized, as they glittered like tiny azure diamonds.

"Do you love me, David? Please say you do."

The question surprised him, yet the answer sprang to his lips without thought. So what if they’d only known each other ten days? It wasn’t impossible. Stranger things had happened. There was a yearning in those breathtaking eyes—one that no normal man could resist. He slowly bent his head and kissed her.

"Yes, I love you, Angela Parson," his lips a gentle whisper against her own. "I think I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I don’t know how, or why, but I do."

"Oh, David—I love you too. I want to be with you every moment." The kisses became more passionate, their bodies pressing more intimately.

"David, let’s go away for a couple of days. Just the two of us," she whispered, trailing tiny kisses along his jaw line. "You said you have two days off. I know a place where we could have complete privacy—no interruptions, no meddling friends."

Starsky felt his head reel with the sensations her hungry lips were stirring in him. Still, the meddling friends comment wheedled its way to the surface, causing him to wonder why she’d say such a thing. Was she talking about Hutch? Huggy? They hadn’t interfered. She hadn’t even met them until a couple of hours ago. Why would she feel the need to escape his friends whom she barely knew? Maybe she’d listened to more of his argument with Hutch than she’d let on.

"Imagine it, darling. Just you and I, a cabin on the lake, no telephones or distractions. We’ll steal away and not tell a soul. Will you come with me?"

"I don’t know, sweetheart. It sounds terrific, but even when I’m off duty, Hutch, and Captain Dobey have to know where I am. Ya never know when something could come up and they’d need me."

Angela pulled back slightly, and looked up, a pouty pose on her lips. "What about my needing you? You just told me you love me, yet you won’t grant me this one, tiny, insignificant wish? It doesn’t sound like you love me very much, darling."

Starsky pulled her close and hugged her to his chest. "Okay, we’ll go. But I have to call Hutch before we leave in the mornin’ and tell him where I’ll be."

"I told you, it’s secluded. That means no phones. So it won’t make any difference. He can’t call you anyway."

"Well, I’ll give him the address. If somethin’ comes up, he’ll at least know where to find me. Don’t worry; he won’t tell Dobey. And I guarantee he won’t track me down unless it’s a matter of life and death."

With Angela’s chin resting on his shoulder, Starsky couldn’t see her eyes narrow, and her lips compress into a frown. Damn! He wasn’t cooperating like she’d expected! She pulled back again, and smiling sweetly, looked up into his face.

"Oh, okay, David. You win. Now, let’s have a cup of coffee and make our plans. Then you can run home and pack an over night bag. We can leave from here in the morning, right after you call Hutch."

"That’s my girl," he said, gently stroking the back of his hand against her cheek. "And I think a cup of coffee sounds good—but I’ll make it. You take it easy. Don’t want that headache to come back."

"No, no. I’ll do it, darling. I have a special blend I save for special occasions. You just sit here and relax. I’ll only be a moment."

"I’ll put on some music then. We’ll just have a quiet evenin’ here alone."

While Angela disappeared into the kitchen and prepared the coffeemaker, Starsky sat on the floor in front of the stereo and fiddled with the tuner, searching for some soft music to set the mood.

Quietly peeking around the kitchen door, Angela made certain he was occupied before slipping a tiny vial of liquid from its hiding place beneath the sink. Looking over her shoulder one last time, she carefully squeezed three amber drop into Starsky’s cup, blending it with the steaming hot coffee.

Infinitely pleased with herself, a wicked little smile transformed the beautiful face into chilling expression of unadulterated hatred.

Chapter Three

Return to TibbieB's Page