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  “What about the pilot?” CK asked.

  “If you can’t grab her without involving him, I don’t care what you do with him. Just don’t leave a trail.”

  “I never do.”

  Chapter 32

  Wind lifted whitecaps over the waves where the canal to the Gulf Winds Marina met the bay. Zane hurried down the dock to secure the boat so he could get to the airfield and take off ahead of the coming storm. Just another headache he didn’t need this morning.

  The lines had slackened during the night. After making quick work of tightening the ropes and checking the bilge pump that removed water from the hull, he climbed down into the cabin.

  Under the front bunk, he lifted the lid to access a lower compartment and reached deep inside to drag out the new side curtains he’d stored there. He’d been surprised they were ready when he’d come through Raleigh. After replacing the lid and cushion, he tore the brown paper packaging away, smiling over the smell of new canvas and plastic. It reminded him of opening the package on a rubber pool floatie.

  The first upgrade to his boat.

  He carried the four curtain sections onto the deck to sort them. Zane picked one up, decided it was for the starboard side then tossed it to his right.

  Thunk!

  Curious, he lifted the section back up. The bottom hemmed pocket bulged. He squeezed two fingers into the pocket, and felt something hard surrounded by plastic. He retrieved a pair of needle-nose pliers from the dash – one of the better gets from the junk left onboard by the previous owner. Pinching the corner of the plastic carefully with the pliers, he wiggled the clear sleeve out far enough to see a coin.

  A gold coin. He carried the canvas to the captain’s chair in the open cockpit and carefully pulled the rest of the snaking plastic length out.

  Eight gold coins ranging in dates from 1922 through 1933 were embellished with a maiden in a long gown running with a torch on the front. The flip side had an eagle. He knew nothing about coin collecting, but it didn’t take an expert to realize he held something extremely rare.

  How had they gotten into his canvas curtains? Zane retraced the package’s path in his mind. He’d picked them up from the custom shop on his last trip to Raleigh, and carried them around until he’d loaded them into the Titan. They were with him all the way until he unloaded them when he landed.

  Raleigh. Where Angel had stowed away.

  His skin chilled at his next thought. Had she stolen these? Was that why someone chased her? This must have been what she’d been searching for in the storage room and when he’d found her going through the cabin of the boat.

  Disappointment sickened him. He’d believed he could help her out of whatever she’d gotten into, but this was not a warrant for unpaid parking tickets. If she’d stolen these coins, he’d face his greatest challenge – turning the woman he loved over to the authorities.

  He couldn’t harbor a fugitive.

  Angel said she’d taken something from the guy chasing her, but it didn’t belong to him.

  But these coins belonged to someone.

  If confronted with the coins, would she admit the truth? Or, refuse to share her secrets until she absolutely had to give them up?

  He left all the individually wrapped twenty-dollar gold pieces on the seat and went in search of three plastic Ziploc bags from a drawer under the sink where he’d stashed a few supplies in anticipation of a first outing this weekend. Fat chance of that happening now. Using his knife he slit the side of one sleeve. With the pliers, he lifted the package over one open Ziploc bag, shaking it carefully until the coin dropped into the bag.

  He held the empty plastic sleeve up to the light. She hadn’t wiped these clean. Zane dropped the sleeve into the other Ziploc, then placed the remaining coins, in their sleeves, in the last bag.

  In the cabin, he pulled the cushions out of the way and rooted around for a good spot to hide the coins. A safe deposit box in the bank would be the best place, but since this was Labor Day weekend the banks were closed until Tuesday.

  The least likely area to be disturbed by an intruder was under the anchor rope stored in the very front compartment deep inside the nose of the bow. He lifted several layers of rope and slipped the plastic bag containing the coins between the loops.

  Zane quickly snapped the side curtains into place and closed up the boat. He had large brown envelopes in his truck under the back seat. Ben had given him the envelopes on the outside chance he ever found evidence he’d need to turn in.

  He’d drop the coin and plastic sleeve, along with the cup Angel had touched, at Ben’s office on his way to the airport. Ben hadn’t called with news of a baby yet, so he wouldn’t be in the lab today, but Zane didn’t know when he’d be back home and wanted Ben to be the only one privy to this.

  There was no way he’d let anyone else in on it until he knew the origin of the coins.

  Angel might have a reasonable explanation.

  He might believe pigs could fly.

  Chapter 33

  The balmy tropical weather was threatening to turn downright mean pretty soon, but CK welcomed the low depression hanging off the coast of south Florida. He stretched his shoulders, pulling on the long sleeved gray T-shirt he wore. He’d have to replace it soon with a Triple X. Staying in shape came with a cost.

  Thunder rolled overhead, offering the perfect cover for what he had to do this morning.

  He lifted his SkyHawk binoculars and studied the woman walking around inside the pilot’s apartment. Angel carried a mug of coffee to the sofa.

  He’d been in this spot all night, and knew exactly when lights had come on in the apartment and the minute the pilot had left. Talk about timing. CK’s cell phone vibrated against his hip. He lifted it up to his ear. “Speak.”

  “We followed the pilot to the marina,” Joe reported. “He messed with the ropes on the boat and put some covering around the cabin. Couldn’t see much from where we were, but no female with him. He just pulled out and turned in the direction of Sunshine Airfield.”

  Was Angel’s boyfriend called away on a Saturday morning to fly? That’d be too good to be true. The rest of CK’s operation would turn into child’s play with the pilot out of the way.

  “If he flies out, find out where he’s going. I want to know the minute he’s airborne.”

  “Got it.”

  CK thumbed the end button and shoved the phone back into his pants. He lifted his field glasses.

  Angel had stood up and walked to the glass doors and stared out as if she had seen something, but she couldn’t see CK. No one could when he wanted to disappear into the landscape. The red nightshirt she wore clung to her plump breasts and narrow hips.

  Mason had said to keep the damage to a minimum, but he hadn’t dictated any specific parameters.

  CK lowered the glasses, letting them lie against his chest. He leaned back into his dark cubbyhole. He lifted his phone and sent a text to his man in charge of accessing the power feed for the apartment complex. The text reply came back immediately. All set. The longer he watched her, the more he appreciated the occasional pleasure offered by his line of work.

  Angel stepped to the side and drew the drapes closed.

  CK grinned. That would only work in his favor.

  Chapter 34

  Angel had showered and dressed in her running shorts and top when Trish tottered out of the bedroom to the kitchen.

  “Morning, Trish. Want some coffee?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  Angel smiled and poured her a mug. “Cream or sugar?”

  “No, the blacker the better.”

  Trish swigged a drink. “Well damn, Sug, this is much better than that sludge Zane makes. Speaking of, where is he?”

  “He had a job to fly or something. He didn’t really tell me much.”

  Trish half smiled and nodded. “Mystery man. You aren’t mad at me for last night are you?”

  “No.” The counter didn’t have a dust molecule left after
Angel had cleaned earlier, but she grabbed a rag to wipe anyhow. “Trish, your brother and I are, um, friends.” Friends? Why did that sound so lame? “He’s letting me stay here for a few days. That’s all. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

  “Friends, huh? Sure. If you say so.” Trish snickered quietly then lowered her gaze to study her coffee as if she could read the inky brew like tea leaves.

  Angel let the quiet settle while Trish gathered her thoughts on whatever was causing the pucker between her eyebrows.

  “I’ve got to get my act together,” Trish muttered to her mug. “I’m getting in the way of Zane’s life.”

  What do you say to that? Angel wiped the counter harder. Zane would be able to perform surgery on this surface if she didn’t stop.

  “Angel, have you ever had something you wanted real bad just out of your reach?”

  Angel paused her scrubbing and stared at the counter.

  For five years she’d trained, studied, and competed to earn the coveted athletic scholarship to Stanford, only to have it snatched away. The first two weeks in jail she’d almost folded under the weight of her loss and what lay ahead of her, but deep inside, the drive to stick it out had burned. Once she’d been released, she’d wanted to prove she was better than the stranger described in a stack of court documents.

  She’d trained to compete in the Tamarind, but more than that, all those hours of hard work had been to regain a grain of respect. To be treated just like any other human being.

  All she’d wanted was to belong to this world again and stop feeling like a second-class citizen.

  Mason had stolen that from her.

  “Yes, Trish, I’ve had something very important I worked very hard for taken away. Twice, in fact.” Angel understood that they were talking about two different things, but the dynamics were the same. “If you want something bad enough, you have to be willing to fight for it no matter what.”

  Trish stared at her with soulful eyes then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I know what you’re saying.” Her polite smile didn’t reach her sad eyes. “Thanks.”

  Angel glanced at the clock on the microwave. Ten minutes until seven. “What’re your plans for today?”

  “Nothing in particular.” Trish brightened. “We can hang out together while Zane’s gone and get to know each other better.”

  No. Trish had to go. Now. “What about your shop?”

  “Heidi will open up.”

  This was Zane’s apartment. Angel couldn’t very well ask his sister to leave if she didn’t want to go.

  She was stuck here. Unbelievable.

  Chapter 35

  Palm leaves slapped together as the wind whipped through the lush landscape surrounding the pilot’s apartment. Still tucked away from sight, CK’s phone vibrated at seven-fifteen.

  “Speak.”

  “The pilot’s airborne and on his way to Jacksonville.”

  CK grinned. Gotta love it when a plan falls into place.

  “Go to the meet point,” CK ordered. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” He ended the call and put the phone away.

  Standing up straight from where he’d been leaning, he flexed his chest, loosening muscles tightened by hours at his weight bench. After a habitual check of his 9mm Glock at his hip, he lifted his phone and typed a text. He had a man waiting in position to cut the power feed to the apartment. Once CK sent that text, his man would vanish and CK would show why he got paid the big bucks.

  Unlike the rest of these men, CK didn’t need help with one scrawny girl.

  He started moving slowly toward the only patio with drapes drawn over the glass doors.

  Chapter 36

  Squatted down next to the kitchen counter, Angel tied her yellow shoelaces and prayed Trish would reach her friend Heidi, who she was calling on Zane’s landline.

  Come on, Heidi, be home. Angel enjoyed Trish, but Angel couldn’t leave until Trish did.

  Patience. At least Trish had changed her mind about staying to “spend the day together” after Angel reminded her how busy holiday shopping traffic might be this weekend at Trish’s store.

  Trish held the house phone to her ear for thirty seconds again before she hung up, grabbed her coffee mug, and plopped onto a barstool. “Heidi probably went to breakfast with someone. She loves Saturday brunch.”

  Angel smiled politely and hid her frustration. None of Angel’s problems were Trish’s fault, but it would be nice if Zane’s sister had somewhere to be.

  Like at the gift shop.

  Trish’s lack of concern over her business grated after listening to how much Zane wanted this to work for his sister. What Angel wouldn’t give to have a normal life where she ran her own business and no one wanted to kill her.

  Zane had been right about one thing. His sister did not like to be alone.

  Each sibling thought they had the other figured out. Although Zane’s description of his sister as a social butterfly was fairly apt, she wasn’t sure why Trish painted her brother as mysterious.

  Finished with her shoes, Angel stood and leaned a hip against the counter. “What did you mean when you called Zane a mystery man?”

  Trish shot up a conspiratorial eyebrow, then seemed to reconsider something and picked up a pen she’d been doodling with. She started drawing shapes on a scratch pad again. “He doesn’t like me to talk about his work.”

  “Why?”

  Trish lifted a shoulder. “Beats me. He gets cranky when I ask how long he’s going to be out of town or what his schedule is, but he comes and goes all hours of the day and night.”

  Angel frowned at Trish’s roundabout answer. “That’s sort of expected of a charter pilot isn’t it? The nature of his particular business.”

  “Maybe,” Trish answered evasively.

  Intrigued, Angel asked, “What do you mean?”

  Trish studied her mug. “When he started the charter business, it took off like crazy. He’s a great pilot, you know?”

  Both women jumped when thunder boomed and rain started pounding outside. Trish lifted her head. “Wow, that’s really coming down.”

  Please, Trish, try to stay on topic. “Nasty out there. You were saying ... about Zane.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Trish returned to her mug, turning it round and round between her hands. “He’s fearless. He’ll fly in any kind of weather, when other pilots won’t. He’s not afraid to take risks.”

  Angel couldn’t counter that with any intelligent argument since Zane had stuck his neck out to save her more than once. But she didn’t think that was what Trish alluded to and asked, “You’re worried about the hours Zane’s putting in?”

  Abandoning her mug, Trish seemed to calculate something before she raised her head to smile wryly at Angel. “He must think something of you or you wouldn’t be sleeping here. He never brings anyone here.”

  Oh. Angel’s silly heart smiled over hearing that until she reminded herself that Zane’s sister didn’t know how Angel had ended up here. Rather than correct Trish, Angel stuck with her plan to find out more about Zane the mystery man. “We’ve become friends and I’ve enjoyed flying with him. I worry about him, too.”

  Trish nodded as if that were the sign that she could share her deepest secrets with Angel. “A few months after he opened the charter business, he got more secretive about what he was doing and where he was flying. He won’t say who he’s flying for, and that’s when he told me I shouldn’t talk about his business.” She squinted her eyes at Angel. “Usually I don’t. But...” She hesitated, then seemed to waver on her decision.

  “I would never share anything about Zane,” Angel said, trying to tip that decision in her favor.

  Trish had been sitting with her shoulders hunched forward, then all at once she relaxed as if a pressure valve in her neck had been released. “I wouldn’t talk to just anyone about him, but I’m worried he’s taking on some risky cargo, something that pays too good to refuse.”

  What? Angel hadn’t seen that on
e coming. Was Trish saying that Zane would carry illegal goods? Keeping her voice neutral as possible when her heart was thumping wildly, Angel asked, “What specifically makes you think that?”

  “Sometimes he takes off with hardly more than a goodbye and won’t talk about what he’s hauling – then he shows up anywhere from a couple of days to a week later.”

  Just like Zane had this morning.

  If his sister knew little about her brother’s activities, Angel knew even less about Zane Black. What if he did transport illegal shipments? That would mean he dealt with criminals.

  Lowlifes like Mason.

  Was that what Zane had meant when he assured her he could help with her problem? That he knew people who could make a problem go away permanently? Or was her imagination going Hollywood, imagining ridiculous possibilities?

  But Zane had flown out of that airport in Raleigh fully aware she’d stowed away with armed men chasing her.

  He hadn’t been overly concerned about any of those issues. Most men – if they weren’t involved in dangerous or illegal work – would have been.

  What about his offer to contact law enforcement? Had that been just to convince her he was aboveboard?

  What if federal agents were watching him?

  They’d see her, too.

  Was it her lot in life to become involved with men leading secret lives? Had she stepped right back into the fire? Her head hurt from so many conflicting thoughts.

  Who was the real Zane Black?

  She sifted through everything she knew about Zane and could put her finger on a couple of odd coincidences, but nothing of significance. He had an edgy, dangerous side, but that could be attributed to his protective nature mixed with a military background. He watched over his sister, worked hard at whatever he did, and had shown Angel an unprecedented kindness.

  Her conscience took issue with the direction of her thinking.

  He’d told her that he couldn’t abide drugs, so he couldn’t be involved with drugs. How could she fault a man who’d opened his home to a woman he knew absolutely nothing about? His elusiveness about his schedule might be little more than reluctance to trust an alcoholic sister with sensitive business information.