“What made you take off so fast?” His hands moved over the controls automatically as he spoke.
She eyed him for a long moment. His story was a little too simple to believe. “You just saw me run across the road, nothing else?”
“Why? What spooked you?”
Being shot at? “I…saw someone down the beach coming my way and decided to change directions,” she said.
He turned the dark glasses on her for a long moment; a vein in his neck pulsed. She expected him to challenge her statement, but he didn’t. Instead, he opened an emotional artery.
“You’re pretty fast, even to be running on adrenaline. Did you run track in school?”
Being reminded of high school for the first time in years was equivalent to having a dagger shoved through her soul. No one she’d graduated with had spoken to her again after the conviction. Thankfully, the people she’d trained around since then knew nothing of her history, only that her marathon race times were exceptional.
Zane had no way of knowing his innocent question peeled open a wound she thought had healed years ago. Seven years spent struggling to survive with the burden of a criminal record had given her little time to think about lost dreams. Over the past year, she’d committed the sin of dreaming again. Running the Tamarind Triathlon in Colorado in two months was to be her big chance at returning to the athletic community and regaining a margin of respect.
Thanks to Mason, that hope was gone.
“I ran in high school.” She made a show of checking her watch. “How long is this flight?”
“Bentley Field is a little over two hours away. Where did you go to school?”
Her throat tightened. This sounded more like an interrogation than a conversation to kill time.
“I went to a podunk school. How long have you flown?”
“Fifteen years. I was a navy pilot until a few years ago.”
“How long were you in?” Angel asked.
He shook his head and smiled. “Not fair. It’s my turn to ask. If we’re going to play question volleyball how about answering mine since I’m answering yours?”
She turned her shoulder to him, but being in close captivity made it impossible to dismiss him completely. Zane filled the cockpit with more presence than mere body space. She could ignore him, but her body had a radar system of its own that signaled when he entered her heat space.
Time for a new subject.
“Where’s your family?” he asked.
Not that one. “No family. My mother died when I was twelve.”
“Sorry. What about your dad?” Zane shifted his head her way, paused, his face expressionless.
Dead as far as she was concerned, the worthless dog.
“Haven’t seen him in a long time.” True. Any time in the next century would be too soon.
“Have you run competitively?” Zane started again.
Back to that, huh? Two national titles plus a roomful of regional trophies by the time she’d reached sixteen should constitute running competitively.
Oh yeah, now she remembered.
Her father had hocked her trophies for pocket cash.
Tears stung her eyes. She stared out the side window, straining to twist as far to her right as she could. Why wouldn’t Zane leave it alone? Fidgeting, her fingers landed on a pair of sunshades in the side. She yanked them out and slid them over her eyes.
“I ran track in school and a few local races. Why did you leave the navy?”
His smile faltered. What? Mr. Got-to-know-everything doesn’t like question volleyball all of a sudden?
She smiled, feeling a little smug.
“After our parents were killed, Trish began having problems. I was no help to her flying airplanes on the other side of the ocean. By the time I got back to Texas she was in the hospital.”
Fingers on his right hand flexed in and out, gripping the throttle. Angel didn’t think he was going to continue until she heard his low voice in her headset.
“Her best friend, Heidi, found Trish after she’d gone to a hotel with some guy, and he’d beaten her half to death. Trish told Heidi she screamed until she passed out, but no one helped. The place was full of crackheads.”
Angel’s shoulders sagged. Okay, they were even. Neither had intentionally forced painful memories on the other. Underneath the deep sadness in his voice, she picked up a thread of guilt, again. Why did Zane feel guilty about something he couldn’t prevent? He’d been in the service. Trish was her parents’ responsibility until they’d died.
Angel understood how it felt to carry misplaced guilt.
“Zane, you’re there for Trish now. You can’t change the past, but you can influence the future.”
He didn’t acknowledge her comment, but his features relaxed.
“It’s your serve,” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood, rewarded when his mouth quirked up on one side in a half smile.
“So tell me, what’s your best time in a race?”
Angel hesitated, fiddled with her seat belt then lifted her chin to him.
“I’ve run sub six-minute pace.” She said it matter-of-factly, but pride came through in her voice.
“No kidding? Did you get a track scholarship?”
She breathed deep, determined to continue and lance this emotional abscess. “Yes.”
“Where did you go?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why not? With professional training, you might have made the Olympics,” Zane said.
What should she tell him? That one of the most prestigious universities in the country rescinded their offer when they found out she’d be delayed a year while serving time?
“It wasn’t my choice. They withdrew the offer,” she said.
“You should have submitted to another college. For someone with your speed, there had to be plenty of universities that would have taken you…as long as your grades were up to par.”
“I had the grades.” She’d have carried better than a 3.8 average if training hadn’t drained her time. “They just decided they didn’t want me.”
“Did you try to get into another college?”
The steady drone of the engines filled several minutes before she rubbed her neck then answered.
“I’m getting a headache. Think I’ll catch a nap.”
She wasn’t as ready to examine that wound as she’d thought, and couldn’t take a couple hours of this probing. If he didn’t believe her headache excuse, at least he didn’t say so.
Zane pulled a towel from his bag and handed it to her. “Sure. Here’s something you can use for a pillow.”
“Thanks.” Angel peeled off her headset and settled back against the rolled towel.
If she had a headache, he was the pope.
Zane wanted to push for more, but knew at this point it would be fruitless. Better to chisel away than try to get it all in one chunk.
From her stiff body language alone, he knew he’d hit a major nerve—something to do with running.
“They didn’t want me,” she’d said. It wasn’t the words as much as the cold pain behind them that struck him. How could a university not want a talented athlete with good grades? If that was the truth.
Simple answer. She’d done something to warrant revocation of the scholarship.
A bigger question was, why hadn’t she taken advantage of her abilities and found another school willing to offer her assistance? Maybe, as she said, it hadn’t been her choice.
Sub six-minute pace? Yeah, she’d been some school’s star runner. Her name had to show up in a database with cross-referencing race results and high-school track stars.
Based on what Zane had seen that morning, Ben could narrow the possibilities down by searching the top ten percent of women finalists across the country in the last ten years.
What would cause a school to reject a talented athlete? That was the meat of the question. Ben’s network of information was limitless. There probably weren’t a lot of prominent female athletes name
d Angel, if that was her real name.
She was definitely world-class level. He’d love to watch her fly through the end of a race and cheer her on as she led the pack. Those gazelle-like legs gracefully tearing across the ground. He’d be there to hug her when she won.
Where had that ridiculous thought come from?
Zane put things back in perspective and ticked off facts he knew.
She’d lost a scholarship.
Pulling information out of her was harder than dragging Imelda Marcos from a shoe sale.
She was a suspiciously compulsive cleaner who was trying to escape someone dangerous.
So what’s the conclusion, Sherlock? A suspect. Had to be.
But suspected of what?
She’d panicked at the mention of going to the police. That didn’t prove she’d done anything wrong, but it sure as hell sounded suspicious. Handing her over to the authorities without verifying she was absolutely guilty of something really bothered him. Besides, alerting the local police would only put him in the position of having to explain more about their meeting than Zane was willing to share.
But if nothing panned out in Ben’s search, he’d be forced to either let someone else get involved or turn her loose to fend for herself.
Neither option would give him peace.
He couldn’t afford to lose any ground on the High Vision investigation. Not if he wanted to move from the field to a coordinator’s position so he’d have more time for Trish. Cracking this case would ensure that.
Neither he nor Trish could touch a healthy inheritance until he reached the age of forty. His father felt a man should make his mark in life, before receiving free money. That will had been drawn up long before Trish was born, and had not been revised, in the meantime, Zane had to make the best of his skills for both of them.
Having a stable life where he was around on a daily basis was the only hope of saving his baby sister from her alcohol addiction.
With a few more pieces to the puzzle of Angel’s background in hand, Zane sat back to enjoy the flight. Days like this were made for being airborne. Working nights, weekends and holidays were part of his job, but being able to fly had balanced out the loss of a personal life for a while.
Not a cloud in the sky for as far as he could see. The only annoyance was a northeast crosswind to deal with at landing. He’d just confirmed clearance to land, when Bentley Field radioed him.
“You must be getting big bucks working on a holiday weekend, flyboy.”
“How goes it, Jason?” Zane had met the young mechanic on a recent stopover when the Titan had needed a minor adjustment.
“The same. Underpaid and overworked. You expecting company?”
“You mean the High Vision people?” Zane asked.
“Naw, they’re here, too, but a big SUV’s been sitting on the ramp for the last twenty minutes and you’re the only bird we’re expecting right now.”
Not a good sign.
Chapter 8
Zane did a mental check of his weapons. He’d love to find out who was after Angel, just not at the risk of her being captured or harmed. If this were a planned operation he’d have backup, but no one in the task force could know about Angel.
He was on his own.
Keying up the mike, he said, “Jason, has High Vision shown anyone what the load is? My dispatcher didn’t have much information.”
“Oh, yeah, he told me. Poor dude they sent to deliver it was supposed to go away with his girlfriend this weekend. He wanted a shoulder to cry on.”
“Must be a big deal,” Zane said.
“Hey, you’d think it was the crown prince of Europe. You’re the limo ride for a little white mutt headed to Miami for a weekend of R&R with his four-legged lady.”
Zane flipped through his memory bank on the corporate management of High Vision. Their CFO and his wife raised champion bichon frise dogs, including a stud worth more than some people earned in a year. He understood the secrecy. The CFO was worried about the animal being stolen during transport.
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Not me, flyboy. I just bought a new bass rig with a hot Mercury outboard. I’ll be on the water by sunset. Catch you next time.”
Angel snapped awake when the tires bounced on the runway. With her hair tousled and eyes half-open she could have just climbed out of bed.
One lascivious thought led to another.
Zane pictured her strewn across his bed lying facedown, his T-shirt halfway up her backside—with his hand covering her perfect bottom. He clenched the controls.
The plane bumped.
She whipped her head around in surprise.
He mouthed the word sorry and reminded himself to stick with the game plan, which didn’t include erotic fantasies.
At the terminal side of the runway, he swung off and parked on the ramp then took in the waiting congregation. No one among a group of five standing next to a silver Suburban resembled what he’d consider a dangerous boyfriend.
Two elderly women, linked arm in arm, were dressed in matching flowered, short-sleeve dresses that fell midway of their chunky calves. Black ankle-high boots complemented their military buzz cut.
A wiry little man held down his dirt-brown hat against the wind swiftly kicking up dust. Standing next to him was a middle-aged, flame-haired woman and a height-challenged man almost as wide as he was tall. Sunshine glinted off the thin, brown hair covering his basketball-size head.
What the hell was going on here? Zane unbuckled his seat belt and slipped out of the cockpit. When he opened the cargo door to step down, loose sand blasted his face in a rush of burning air. A hand pushed against his back and he turned to find Angel climbing out.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“I’m your translator, remember?”
Yeah, he remembered. She didn’t have to look so smug when she pointed out the flaw in his plan.
“If you handle this group anything like you did Mr. Suarez, you’ll be lucky to stay in business through next week.” She cocked her chin up at him, squaring her shoulders, positioned to do battle.
Keeping her within reach might not be a bad idea. “Stay close to me. I don’t know who these people are.”
Zane stepped past the nose of the plane, and the odd group advanced several feet. The skinny guy fighting to keep the crinkled hat on his head cleared his throat and spoke.
“I’m Earnest Earwood. We represent TAF, which stands for Treat Animals Fairly.” Each word tumbled from his mouth like a telegraph operator reading a message. “We’re here to protest your part in the mistreatment of animals.”
One of the two gray-haired women, who resembled each other too much not to be related, spoke up. “I’m Berta Nielson and this is my sister, Valerie.”
Valerie jumped in. “We don’t think these poor animals you transport should be put through pain and suffering.”
Berta pointed at Zane. “How would you like to be faced with their future?”
Zane’s canine cargo was headed for a weekend of rousing sex with a ready-and-able partner.
Zane would love it. He smiled. “I could tolerate it.”
Valerie’s face screwed into the shape of a dishrag after heavy use. “That’s appalling. What kind of man are you?”
One that hadn’t been with a woman in a while, Zane thought remorsefully. “You don’t think my cargo deserves to be used in an experiment?” He was trying hard not to chuckle.
Angel arched an eyebrow at him.
“No animal should be put through that kind of suffering.” The redhead had a high-pitched voice, painful to hear. “We’re the Thorntons and we’ve spent our life protecting animals.”
Most of the critical shipments for High Vision were handled in the middle of the night, just to avoid TAF groups showing up to protest. The disorganized association was composed of radical protesters who rarely had their facts straight and generally caused headaches for the bona fide animal rights organizati
ons.
Zane should end it here, but TAF had cost him a connection with an informant in the early stages of the investigation. He owed them one. Besides, he was enjoying himself and wanted to see just how deep a hole they’d dig if he handed them a shovel.
“Maybe this animal would enjoy this particular experiment,” Zane suggested.
Eyes bulged and mouths popped open like hungry guppies.
Zane smiled at the reactions.
The main four spouted off at the same time.
“You’re a monster.”
“How can you say that?”
“We shall call in reinforcements.”
“How do you sleep at night?”
Mr. Thornton still hadn’t commented.
Angel gaped at Zane as if he’d lost his mind. “You can’t even keep people calm in English,” she whispered tersely. “How do you stay in business?”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
Angel addressed the crowd. “Excuse me. Excuse me!”
The shouting died down to a rumble. Angry eyes surveyed her.
She pushed past Zane. “Black Jack Airlines would never do anything to harm an animal.” She turned to Zane. “Right?”
When he didn’t say anything, she bumped her heel into his shin. “Umph.”
Angel must have taken his grunt as an affirmative. She smiled at the crowd and said, “What specifically is your complaint?”
Berta’s thick eyebrows ran together in a straight line across her forehead. “TAF opposes unnecessary and cruel testing on animals. We have a report that Black Jack Airlines is transporting a test animal today.”
Angel twisted sideways to Zane. “Is that true?”
He smiled and nodded, then almost busted up laughing at Angel’s incredulous face.
“Just as we thought.” Earnest choked out the words through a raspy throat. “He even admits to his dastardly ways.”
When Earnest succumbed to coughing, Valerie took a shot at Zane. “You wouldn’t be so happy if you were put in the same position as that poor animal.”
Zane grinned. “Au contraire. If I had a willing mate waiting with bated breath for a romantic weekend with me, you’d probably have to remove my smile surgically.”
Worth Every Risk Page 10