The Perfect Ten Boxed Set Page 19

  Angel lifted his hand in her two slender ones. Her compassionate touch drew away some of his pain.

  Zane glanced up to see the sadness in his soul reflected in her face. “I tried to tell Trish that our parents would have changed the will once she was an adult, and that their intention had been for me to watch out for her. That didn’t erase the hurt. It wasn’t about the money. Trish just needed to hear her name mentioned, to know she counted.”

  “I’m sorry for both of you,” Angel whispered, her voice heavy with understanding. “But you can’t blame yourself,” she soothed. “Your parents deserted her. You didn’t. She idolizes you. And I see the strength adversity has given her. She’s much tougher than you think.”

  He’d like to think so, but Angel hadn’t seen how far Trish had fallen after the reading of the will. Hadn’t seen her in the hospital half dead. She’d come so far since then, but in the past few months, he’d sensed he was losing her again. He was afraid if he blinked he’d open his eyes and she’d be too far gone to save. “I didn’t realize until after the will that she’d known for a while that she was an unwanted surprise. The will just hammered it home. That’s when Trish took a downturn. She started drinking. Then some scumbag got her on coke.”

  The vision of her in a scumbag hotel, being beaten would forever be stuck in his head. He shook it off and said, “She tried AA in Houston. Worked for a while, but she didn’t stick with it. She’s been doing okay here.” Oh, sure. Talk about denial. “But I’m blowing it being gone on such a crazy schedule.”

  “You’re a good brother. Trish is very lucky. I wish I’d had a sibling.”

  Angel hadn’t given him the usual platitudes about how Trish was young and would bounce back. With reminding him he was fortunate to have a sibling, Angel had unintentionally given him a tiny piece to the puzzle of her background.

  She was an only child.

  He’d had enough of dissecting his screwed up life. “Where are your parents?”“My mother’s dead. Died when I was twelve.” She said that with a finality that stopped him from asking more.

  Neither spoke for a while as the ocean’s surf stirred against the shore. Zane felt Angel’s fingers stroke over his hand. When was the last time anyone had comforted him? A vague memory of being held as a small child came to mind, but nothing since then.

  Her depth of caring for others, in the face of her own immense problems, humbled him.

  He was a fool to want this woman so much he ached, but he longed to hold her. Just to feel her in his arms.

  After a bit, she moved her hands away and stood. “Think I’ll turn in. We can talk tomorrow. Don’t worry about Trish. I’ll watch over her tonight.” She’d stepped back to the glass doors.

  He was up and around the table before she reached the opening, blocking her path.

  “Angel.”

  “What?” She lifted her head.

  “This.”

  He threaded his fingers around her neck up into her hair, lifting her face to his. His lips touched hers in a kiss full of compassion, not carnal desire.

  After a slight hesitation, she surrendered. Her hands knifed up between them, then around his neck.

  Oh, man, she felt like all his best wishes come true wrapped in one gorgeous package. Desire licked at every spot she touched. He loved her lips, soft, full on the bottom, hungry.

  She grazed his lips with her teeth and ran her tongue across his mouth. One delicate hand slid down his neck, sending chills up his spine. If they didn’t stop soon, he’d take her right there on the patio.

  Stopping was his job.

  Time to be responsible whether he liked it or not.

  Zane ended the kiss, slowly, touching his lips to her cheeks and forehead.

  “Honey.” He cleared his tight throat and tried again, careful not to mention law enforcement since that always sent her running for cover. “We’ll figure this out. I know you don’t understand how, but I can help you. We’ll work through this tomorrow. Okay?”

  She nodded into his chest when he hugged her tight.

  Reluctantly, he let her ease away from him, watching her until she disappeared down the hallway.

  Zane settled back into his chair and listened to a seagull call in the distance. Wheels in his brain churned with the new information. He’d learned Angel was only twelve when her mother had died. She didn’t even mention her father. What had life thrown at her after losing her mother? He had to know. Every minute with her tied him in one more knot.

  Tomorrow he’d persuade her to tell him her full name, and he’d tell her about Ben. He couldn’t tell her he worked with the DEA because keeping that secret was part of the gig. Even Trish didn’t know. But he would find a way to convince Angel that she could trust his friend.

  Chapter 30

  Zane was sure he’d only just fallen asleep when his cell phone woke him. He checked the digital clock on his DVD player. Four-ten in the morning. He flipped the phone open.

  “Zane.”

  “Sammy here. Got a High Vision shipment being cleared at the docks in Jacksonville. Will you be able to pick it up and deliver to Birmingham by 1900 local time?”

  If not, Sammy would call one of the other two charter groups who would jump at the chance to shut out Black Jack Charters.

  Zane stretched his stiff neck. This was the shipment he hoped would seal the deal. “What time do I need to be in Jacksonville?”

  “They want you there at oh-nine hundred today.”

  Couldn’t they have informed Zane yesterday, even last night, that he had to fly this morning? This had to be the test he’d expected. He’d bet the shipment didn’t have to be picked up on a holiday weekend, but High Vision wanted to see how he’d handle this. In fact, now that he thought about it, they probably had both of the other charter groups flying this weekend as well.

  They’d test everyone. See who put their business ahead of personal life.

  He assured Sammy, “I’ll be there.”

  Sammy gave him the numbers he’d need to verify he had the correct shipment, then said, “Anything else?”

  Yeah, dude. Fix my woman problems by the time I get back. “No. I’ll check in before I fly out with the cargo.” He twisted right and left trying to unkink his aching back. The sofa bed needed a new mattress, one that would hold his bulk.

  Unless he figured out Angel’s problem and fixed it.

  They could share his bed then.

  Talk about screwed up logic, but he was a guy. All equations involving a woman ended with sex, especially when he was going to do his damnedest to keep said woman.

  By the time he’d made up the bed and dashed through a shower, the coffee had finished perking. He sipped a cup of the hot brew and glanced around the spotless kitchen. He couldn’t take credit for a cleaning that well done.

  An uneasy feeling settled over him at the thought of leaving Angel alone. He knew she’d take care of Trish until Heidi arrived, but would he come home to find her gone again?

  He’d been absentmindedly studying the room when his eyes passed the door, then stopped. Yellow running shoes were parked to the right of the entrance.

  Oh, yeah. Thanks again to Ben-the-techno-wizard teaching him stuff he probably shouldn’t, Zane knew what to do and had the tools for the job.

  Next to his laundry, he unlocked the utility room and snapped the light on. Hidden under piles of boxes and junk he used for camouflage was a locked toolbox. Inside was a mix of tools he had from black ops assignments he’d participated in during his Air Force days – stuff that had needed to disappear for the good of the op – along with electronic surveillance and tracking equipment he’d gotten from Ben.

  Ben might not ever pick up a weapon, but he’d always had Zane’s back, even as a teen.

  Zane’s gadget-happy friend had given him every possible toy Ben could come up with, knowing Zane might make use of them for clandestine surveillance at some point. Not always kosher for the agents to do that, but no case would hinge on whethe
r a nonexistent informant like Zane followed the rules.

  He pointed the agents in the right direction.

  They gathered hard evidence.

  Nobody was the wiser or needed to be. There was even a gadget or two that Ben had designed and built. He’d given the units to Zane for testing.

  After he found a GPS transmitter the size of a shirt button, he put everything back in place. He took the sneakers and his Swiss army knife outside.

  He opened the driver’s door on his truck to work under the dome light where he had enough time to hide what he was doing if someone walked up. Rumbling in the distance was a precursor of the weather he’d have to fly through. He made a mental note to swing by the marina and check on the boat.

  Too much stretch in the ropes and his boat would be damaged along each side where it beat against the pilings separating the boat slips.

  Pulling the laces of Angel’s running shoe very loose allowed better access. He slit an opening at the base of the tongue. The tiny tracker was a prototype that Ben had been developing, and Zane had helped him try out several of the versions a while back, carrying them with him on flights and when he went on his grueling morning runs.

  Zane tested the performance, beat the hell out of the equipment, and Ben worked out bugs.

  Ben wanted Zane to keep this one and give it a run once in a while to see if the electronics held up over time.

  If Angel took off, this gadget would get a real-world test, and the run of its life. Zane hoped not, but he was done with getting sucker punched every time she disappeared.

  With tweezers he worked the transmitter inside the padded covering, deep enough that Angel would never feel it.

  The next time she pulled a Houdini vanishing act, he would have a magic wand to make her reappear.

  Pleased with himself, he almost whistled as he went back in the door until he met Angel on the other side.

  “What are you doing with my shoes?”

  Busted. “I noticed some dirt on the bottom of one, and you’re so neat I knew you wouldn’t want to track through the apartment.”

  She inspected the shoes.

  He’d pulled the laces back as close to where she’d left them as he could. The bottoms were spotless when she turned them over, just the way he’d found them.

  She cut her eyes up at him. “Are you sure? I could swear I cleaned them last night.”

  “You probably couldn’t see well in the dark. Not a big deal. I didn’t mind doing it.”

  “Well ... thanks.” Her appreciation was more dubious than sincere.

  “Don’t worry about it. Look, I’ve got to make a run. I hate to ask you to do anything else after last night, but I’d like to let Trish sleep some more.”

  “I don’t mind. Where are you going?”

  “Gotta help someone with a problem.”

  “When will you be back?” she asked, a slight catch in her voice.

  Would she miss him? “Not sure, maybe tonight, but it could be tomorrow. I’ll call later and let you know. Will you be here?”

  He watched her face as she juggled possible answers.

  “I’ll try to.”

  “What does that mean?” he demanded, instantly irritated. “Why would you leave? At least stay where you’re safe until I get back.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Zane. You have plenty of other things to think about.” She shifted the shoes to her other hand.

  He loved the way she said his name. He wanted to hear it again and again. Hear it in her early morning voice, husky with sleep. Yeah, she’d moan his name as he made love to her.

  God, he was losing it. She had better be here when he returned.

  He smiled. At least he had a backup plan.

  It was time to go, but not before he did one last thing.

  Zane gathered her into his arms and kissed her like he’d never get another chance, because that’s exactly what worried him.

  The shoes hit the floor.

  She tasted like toothpaste and Angel. Her fingers drove through his hair, dragging him closer to her as if she, too, expected it to be their last.

  Ecstasy and misery flowed through him. He loved her scent, the feel of her lips, her smooth skin. But the question of her being there when he returned haunted the recesses of his mind.

  Duty called. It was close to five-thirty. He had to go. If he stayed any longer there wouldn’t be time to swing by the boat, check the bowlines and the bilge pump. Many a boat had sunk at the dock due to a faulty bilge pump or low battery.

  Zane hugged her close and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I left my cell phone number on the counter and the code to set the motion detector bypass on the alarm so you can reset it once Trish leaves. I’ll be back as soon as I can and we’ll figure out your problem together.”

  “But, Zane...”

  “Shh. We’ll talk when I get back. Just promise me you won’t take any chances.”

  She dropped her head to his chest.

  “Promise me, Angel. Please.” He’d figured out that she’d rather be silent than lie and believed she’d stick to a commitment.

  “Okay, I promise,” she whispered.

  He lifted her chin, gave her a brief kiss then left.

  Chapter 31

  Mason’s cell phone beeped twice, then beeped again while he crossed the living room of his Manhattan flat to retrieve it. Dawn wouldn’t come for another two hours, but he hadn’t slept all night.

  “Sir, this is Richardson...” Richardson oversaw the security of all Mason’s warehouses. He was privy to every shipment, legitimate and otherwise.

  Mason eased down on the sofa and sat back. “Is there a problem?”

  “The Feds stopped by while I was in Raleigh. They wanted to ask questions about Farentino.”

  The local police should be handling Jeff’s death and Angelina’s disappearance. “What questions?”

  “They wanted to know her specific duties and if she handled any transactions.”

  Like Mason would have been stupid enough to let Angelina have access to records? “What did you tell them?”

  “That she’d been hired as a set of hands in the warehouse and that we didn’t give client file access to anyone with a prison record. I stuck to what your man Kenner said was the official statement. I told the Feds everyone was in shock. We all thought she was sweet and a hard worker, etcetera, but we obviously didn’t know what she was capable of, or the kind of skills she’d learned in prison.”

  So far so good. “Did they want anything else?”

  “Not really ... but...”

  “But what?” Mason sat up straight, alerted to the worry in Richardson’s voice.

  “One of them asked if I knew of any personal relationship between you and Farentino. I told them absolutely not. That our Raleigh warehouse manager had hired her after you and I reviewed her file and approved it. I added that I took full responsibility for hiring her and that I had to talk you into giving her a chance.”

  “Nice touch.” Mason drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa, trying to figure out what the Feds were after. “Think that satisfied them?”

  Richardson was silent for a moment. “I don’t think so, sir. I can’t put my finger on it, but I had a feeling they weren’t just asking about Jeff’s death. I think they were interested in Farentino for something else.”

  Angelina may not have seen the news report about Jeff’s body yet, but that didn’t matter. Mason had told Angelina she’d played a role in smuggling the paintings, whether she’d known it or not, and that he’d planted evidence of her participation in the coin theft.

  That he could hang her and he’d walk away unscathed.

  Angelina had believed him. He was certain of it.

  He knew her type, and he knew people. Nobody in any agency would believe she was innocent, nor would they buy any claim she made about Mason. Not with her record.

  As long as she ran, he felt certain she’d avoid the authorities.

  The minute she t
ried to sell those coins, she’d be arrested. She should realize that, but if he were Angelina, he’d be trying to get out of the country. To do that, she’d need money and might gamble on selling one of them.

  Regardless, Mason couldn’t risk the FBI getting to her first and hearing something that could be used against him. He had no idea what else she might have on him that she hadn’t admitted. She’d been cleverer than he’d anticipated.

  Underestimating her at this point would be stupid.

  Stupid was one thing he’d never been.

  He dismissed Richardson and ended the call, then punched the speed dial key for his bounty hunter. “I want an update.”

  CK didn’t launch into his usual report. “We’ll get her, but looks like somebody else has an interest. You don’t have another team down here do you?”

  “No. What are you talking about?” Mason didn’t need this shit right now. It couldn’t be Czarion interfering, not after Mason had suggested Czarion go after Angelina and the coins, only to have the prick toss that back in Mason’s lap.

  “Another group tried to intercept her. I don’t have anything on them, but if anyone gets in my way, I’ll remove them,” CK warned.

  “You’re the only one on my tab, but we may have interest from a federal agency.” Time was not on Mason’s side with Czarion breathing down his neck. That bastard would get his coins, but on Mason’s terms. “Where is she?” he asked.

  “At the pilot’s apartment.”

  “Go get her. I have a meeting just before noon, then I’ll fly down. I can be there tonight. Call me as soon as she’s secure.”

  Even if Angelina had hidden the coins, Mason knew how to make her talk.

  “She might not be alone when I get to her. What about your orders to not draw attention?”

  Mason weighed the prospect of getting his hands on Angelina quickly against the problem of doing it in a way that might annoy Czarion. The need to find those coins before Czarion’s Sunday deadline ended all debate. “Things have changed. We don’t have time to waste. I need this done now. I’ll put my resources at your disposal.”