She had one shot at beating this problem and to remain free. It didn’t include local law enforcement.
Or sexy pilots.
Besides, if Mason captured her, there would be a price to pay. Telling Zane anything would put him at risk as well.
“I can take care of myself. You’re better off not being involved,” she said.
His black eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. “Why?”
“Even if you knew, you couldn’t help me.”
Chiseled lips twisted in a frown as if he worked to figure out a puzzle. “Look, if this guy chasing you is an obsessive male, there are laws that will protect you.”
“The police won’t take my side.”
That made him pause. She tried to read his thoughts, but his expression shuttered.
“Why? If you’ve broken the law, turning yourself in would be better than being caught by this jerk,” Zane pressed.
She bristled at his insinuation that she was guilty of anything. Had he found the coins? No, she didn’t think so. If he had, he’d probably be calling the police right now. Still, he was beginning to remind her of the detective who’d railroaded her into jail seven years ago.
“Angel, how much trouble are you in?”
Just like an arrogant man to make assumptions with no in-between. Either she was a hunted girlfriend or a criminal.
Lack of rest and little food, combined with the missing coins, fueled her already testy mood. A wise woman would calm down and sweet-talk Zane, but she was sick to death of men either lying to her or assuming she’d committed a crime.
“Fine! I admit I broke the law when I stowed away on your airplane. Are you going to have me arrested?” She shoved hands defiantly to her hips.
“Angel, I’m just trying to help you. Don’t blow up at me.”
“Blow up? Look, it’s my problem not yours. Why don’t you leave it at that?”
“Because I can help you,” Zane told her in a tone that suggested she wasn’t paying attention.
“You’re a pilot, a very good one, but not what I need right now. Just stay out of this.” She wouldn’t have raised her voice, but had to shout to be heard over his.
Zane retorted, “If you weren’t so stubborn—”
“Excuse me, señor.”
She and Zane bumped as they swung around to face the open door. Just inside the doorway stood a handsome Latin man of average height, wearing a smart fawn-colored suit with an eggshell silk shirt open at the collar. A smile quirked up on his face when he spoke to Zane.
“Buenos días, Señor Black. I’m here for my shipment.”
“Mr. Suarez, good to see you. We were just going over the inventory log.”
Angel lifted an eyebrow at the fabrication, but held her peace.
Zane swung his hands out wide, palms up. “Only one box came through customs.”
Mr. Suarez’s smile fell. “But why? We discussed this before you left.” His language switched into a rapid litany of angry Spanish.
Angel had learned street Spanish as a child in New York then found she excelled at the language when she took the course in high school. It turned into an easy credit. Competing for an athletic scholarship had been more difficult. But she’d won a full ride to an exceptional university…then lost it before the first semester, detained in a jail cell.
She stood silently while Mr. Suarez ranted that this was the third time Zane had failed to deliver, Zane was inept and Suarez was ready to sever ties with Black Jack Airlines altogether.
She glanced up at Zane’s placid face. The face of a man who didn’t understand a word Suarez said.
A person didn’t have to be fluent in Spanish to realize Suarez was very angry. She elbowed Zane, who flashed her an innocent look of what?
His customer fell silent, evidently waiting for an explanation. She nudged Zane again. This time he must have taken the hint.
“What can I say? The box wasn’t there so I didn’t pick it up.” Zane shrugged.
That’s it? He might be a crack pilot, but Zane sorely lacked people skills. Since he had helped her, the least she could do was return the favor.
Angel offered his client a smile, then responded in Spanish.
“Mr. Suarez, please forgive my friend. He is an exceptional pilot but a little rough around the edges. Unfortunately, basic business skills were not required to get a pilot’s license.”
Had Zane just kicked her? She narrowed her eyes at him. Had he understood her?
His eyes widened.
Suarez’s lips twitched, but he gave no indication his temper had completely cooled. She continued appeasing him in his language.
“You are very understanding with Mr. Jackson’s shortcomings and we really appreciate your patience. If you’ll give him a chance to correct the problem, he’ll check into this matter and get back to you once he has answers on your other package.”
She finished with, “Please accept our sincere apology. You and your business both mean a great deal to Black Jack Airlines.”
Suarez returned her smile with a sensational one. The man oozed European aristocratic elegance. He lifted her hand and kissed the back.
A sigh escaped her lips. No woman was immune to that kind of flattery.
“Señorita, you are as wonderful to do business with as you are to gaze upon,” Suarez said, then cut his eyes at Zane and spoke in English. “I suggest you keep this woman if you wish to continue delivering for my company.”
Zane handed Suarez a small box then put his arm around Angel’s shoulders, shifting her back to the point where Suarez was forced to let go of her hand.
“I was just telling Angel what a good team we make,” Zane said. “She generally pops in and out when she wants, but we’re hammering out a plan that will work for both of us. Umph.”
She’d elbowed him one more time in the ribs for outright lying.
Grinning, Suarez said goodbye as he left with the package under his arm.
She jerked away from Zane. “Don’t you care about keeping that client?”
“He’s not going anywhere,” he dismissed casually. “Only a few groups operate the way we do and none of them fly out of south Florida.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. He said he was thinking about dropping your service.” She waited to see how Mr. Arrogant liked hearing that little tidbit.
He didn’t say anything at first. Crossing his arms, Zane shifted his feet apart and cocked his head to the left, studying her. His stance didn’t intimidate her, but she worried about what was going on under all that thick black hair until he finally spoke.
“Where did you learn to speak Spanish?”
“I took a couple years of it in high school and tutored English to the Puerto Rican children in my neighborhood.” She cocked her head up at him. “You should consider a few classes.”
“You’re right, but not about classes. I do need to make a better effort to appease Suarez since he does a significant amount of business with me. You should stick around and translate for me.”
Bad idea. “No.” Angel shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why? Where are you going?” he prodded.
Nowhere until she found the coins.
Before she could answer, he asked, “Where are you staying?”
“I don’t have a place yet, but I’m not planning on hanging around long.”
He leaned toward her and asked, “By the way, just what were you looking for in here?”
Oops. “What would I be looking for in here?” she asked, all innocent.
“That’s what I want to know.”
Not a good time to inquire about the package of canvas. The truth would only open a bottomless pit of questions. She dug for a good answer, something in a gray area, but close to the truth.
“When I came in, the mechanic said I could wait for you.”
Well done, not really a lie.
“You thought he meant here instead of the office?”
Angel tried for a surprised look
. “Ohhh, you have an office. That would have been a better choice.” She shrugged.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll tell you what. This contract with Suarez is only for a short time. I’ll give you a place to live in exchange for translating.”
She hadn’t planned to hang around any longer than it took to locate the coins. However, figuring out how to eat, sleep and find transportation on less than a hundred dollars would be a challenge. Even though the transmitter was gone, hiding from Mason for any length of time without a chunk of money was impossible. His resources were practically unlimited.
And Zane was the only common denominator for locating the coins.
Rocking back on his heels, as if he had all day to wait for her answer, he unfolded his arms and slid his hands into the pockets of faded jeans that fit his lower torso like a glove. The snug powder-gray T-shirt hugged his broad chest. Her eyes traveled lower to a worn brown leather belt just above…
Embarrassed, her eyes shot up to his in time to catch the twinkle in his eye confirming he’d caught her roaming vision. Spending a lot of time around this man might not be advisable.
“You still owe me for the ride,” he pointed out.
She rolled her eyes. He would use his ace. Besides, she had no other option.
“Okay,” she huffed. “But I’m not promising how long I’ll stay.”
“Fair enough.” Zane checked his watch. “It’s almost four. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Home.”
She hadn’t even considered where he’d offered for a place to stay. “You mean your home?” she clarified.
“Don’t worry. I have a foldout and you should know by now you’re safe with me.”
He wouldn’t harm her, but was she safe from her own errant thoughts?
No place was a haven until she found those gold coins. The strain of the last two days began to settle in. She felt light-headed. Not a time to be picky when she desperately needed at least one good night’s sleep.
“Okay…thanks.” Angel picked up the linen shoulder bag she’d dropped near the door and followed him to a massive Dodge pickup.
That figures. The man wouldn’t fit in anything smaller.
Flashy mag wheels gripped black-outlined raised-letter tires. The four-wheel-drive machine was coated in Saturday-night-lipstick red, accessorized in chrome jewelry.
No wonder men referred to their vehicles as feminine counterparts.
Zane opened the passenger door. The new-car leather aroma floating through the cab engulfed her as she stepped up to the high seat. What a great smell. She’d never owned a car, much less a new one. She peddled a bike everywhere she went. Her triathlon training paid off. Her insides kinked at that thought.
In two months the Tamarind International Triathlon would be held in Colorado where elite competition from all corners of the world would gather. Last year, it had been held in Greece.
She’d trained for the past sixteen months straight to prove to the world and herself that she was an athlete, not a criminal. Every waking minute not spent working, she’d trained. Her times slowly improved until she was in shape to be a contender, or would be if she hadn’t been a conscientious employee.
She might not be alive in two months and, besides, she’d probably never compete again anyhow. They probably frown on that in the witness protection program.
Zane climbed in and cranked the engine. A wide console separated them, suiting her just fine. Calm dove-gray covered the interior, contradicting the screaming exterior. She did a visual sweep, hoping to find a brown paper package with Gulf Winds Marina labeled as the destination.
No such luck. Several ropes were piled across the narrow back seat of the extended cab. A large bundle of half-inch-thick rope lay in the rear floorboard. What in the world does he use that for? she wondered, then switched mental gears to more important concerns.
How soon would Zane fly out again? If she didn’t find the package stashed in his hangar, she’d return to the marina in case the boat curtains had been floating around in transit and had finally arrived.
Watching Angel climb into his truck, Zane was amazed she could still stand upright. Pale blue shadowed the delicate skin under her eyes, indicating she’d slept little, if any, since he last saw her. She must have had some funds for the secondhand clothes and transportation to Florida.
His suspicions flared at everything she’d done, from wiping her fingerprints down, to showing up in his hangar. He should turn her over to the police to let them determine if she needed protection or incarceration. But her fear was palpable. After three years with the special task force, he’d learned not everyone who avoided the law was a criminal. Judging this situation without all the facts could get someone seriously injured, or killed.
Also, if he turned Angel over to the local authorities, he wouldn’t be able to help her without exposing his identity. Before he did that, Zane had to know from whom she fled, who had abused her.
Frustration at the situation welled up inside him. She refused to fit neatly into one of two categories—guilty or innocent. Someone had definitely held her against her will. Everything pointed to an illegal situation at the heart of this mess. That’s where the contradiction was rooted.
Nothing about her fit his gut impression of a criminal.
What about wiping her fingerprints away? Okay, there was that.
And what had she been looking for in his storage room? When she’d spun around with that sweet but worried “Hi. How are you?” his emotions had roller-coasted from annoyed to relieved. Zane had spent a long night awake every hour, wondering if she’d managed to remain free and unhurt.
Why wouldn’t she let him help her deal with whoever threatened her? If she knew his occupation, she’d realize just how much he could help her. But sharing what he did for a living was out of the question.
Or his real name, since Angel knew him as Zane Black. The only people who knew him as Zane Jackson outside of work were his sister and her roommate, but he’d know who Angel was before that became an issue. The agency had a second apartment in his undercover name as one barrier between him and anyone who snooped around on him. That would only delay someone determined to find him—like the thugs he’d met in Charleston—not stop them.
Zane scrubbed a hand over his face. His misgivings climbed to the point of questioning the logic of bringing her into his home, until he caught her in his peripheral vision.
She rode quietly, staring straight ahead. Her squared shoulders boasted of confidence, but the stiff carriage was belied by her death grip on the linen bag.
After one glance, he went from guarded to protective.
Turning up alone in Ft. Lauderdale could only mean she was on her own with nowhere else to go, on the run from an abusive beast. Zane’s stomach twisted. But what would it cost him to help her out?
He sent another cursory glimpse her way.
Angel chewed on her lower lip. One hand relaxed, slipped from the bag in her lap. The ring was missing from her finger. Had she traded the ring for clothes or a few bucks?
Her fingers fidgeted against her jeans, trembled.
No one would get their hands on Angel until he had his answers. No one.
Zane had more than a few questions, but dealing with cagey informants in pressured circumstances had taught him patience. The best way to draw information from a reluctant individual was with slow, calculated conversation. Right now, Angel was both exhausted and jumpy.
Good thing Suarez had come by. The dressed-up-Latin-pretty-boy-pain-in-the-butt’s visit had worked in Zane’s favor. Pretending not to understand Spanish since the first time he and Suarez met was intentional, even though nothing had come of the ruse…until today. Leverage Zane would exploit to keep Angel near, safe, while he figured out what was going on with her.
Having her close tonight would pay off in one more way. He’d lift her print and drop it at the lab first thing in the morning.
Then it wo
uld be decision time. Bring in the authorities to help her…or arrest her.
Chapter 5
Zane parked in front of the two-year-old sandstone-construction apartment building where he hung his hat. Good thing he’d picked the place up and restocked the refrigerator. He hadn’t cleaned with a guest in mind, just made it habitable after being gone for most of two weeks.
He circled the cab and opened the passenger door. Angel jumped out then stuck close to his side. With every step, she glanced around, eyes furtive, as if she expected someone to leap from behind the towering oleander bushes that surrounded his first-floor garden apartment.
During the short drive home, she’d gradually slumped in her seat, stamina waning. She’d get a good night’s rest if he had to stand guard over her the whole time.
Zane unlocked the ultramarine-blue front door and stood aside to allow Angel to enter first. Chilly air, hinting of lemon furniture polish, greeted them.
Hazy sunlight filtered through the patio doors into the expansive living room. She ambled past the hunter-green leather sofa and matching overstuffed chair then stopped in front of the sliding glass doors. The linen bag slipped from her fingers to land next to her sneakers. She faced the spectacular vista beyond his patio.
Stone walkways separated tiered layers of immaculate flowering gardens along a boardwalk to the pristine sandy beach. Curling emerald waves from the Atlantic Ocean crashed against the shore.
The sparkling serenity was lost on Zane. He couldn’t focus past the foreground. Several loose strands of roan hair dangled below the floppy hat. The white cotton shirt slid over her sleek back and disappeared into a taut pair of jeans covering two succulent cheeks.
“What a beautiful view,” she sighed.
Honey, you have no idea. “One of the best I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled. He’d love to pull the hat off and finish the vision.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “What?”
Bright sunlight in the background haloed around her. Highlights danced across the curves of her body, tantalizing the image his mind was determined to create.
Worth Every Risk Page 5