Disappointment filled her eyes when she licked her lips and said, “I can’t tell you the truth about why I left earlier, and I’d rather not lie to you.”
She still didn’t trust him.
After what he’d just pulled, she’d probably never trust him. He huffed out a harsh breath. They’d tackle this when he returned.
He changed the subject. “After I get Trish, I’ll pick up something to eat on the way home. What would you like?”
“Pizza?”
Her predilection for one food group amused him, but his heart was in his throat, making it tough to smile.
He hated walking away from her right now, but knew better than to leave Trish for long when she was partying hard.
Angel must have misread his reluctance as concern that she’d disappear.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here.”
Would she?
Chapter 12
Angel dug through the basket full of clean clothes next to the dryer. Not enough that she was wearing his clothes, but she’d spilled soda down the front of the white one she’d had on and needed a new one. She found a blazing-red shirt with a chest pocket.
Perfect. It suited her blazing fury. She hadn’t quite figured out who she was angrier with, herself or Zane, but red covered all bases.
Had she completely lost all sense of priority? Okay, be honest. She wanted him as bad as he obviously wanted her, if that hadn’t been a gun in his pocket. A big-barreled gun.
Desiring him to touch her in ways she could only imagine was bad enough. Letting him take her physically to a place she’d never reach again would destroy her emotionally.
Where would consummating the heat igniting between them leave either one?
She stalked into the bathroom and jerked off her clothes. She scowled at her puckered nipples, annoyed over her body’s inability to quickly dismiss his touch. On the other hand, she was equally annoyed at him for keeping her in a physical state of habitual frenzy, while apologizing at the same time.
Chilled from the frigid air coursing through the apartment, Angel cranked the shower lever to one degree before scalding. The boiling water charged over her screaming muscles, drawing out the tension. Surely the residents of this humid state ran up a huge water bill from showering. Twice daily would be a minimum.
She sometimes showered three times a day since leaving prison. Didn’t care as long as she showered without a group of women present.
Refreshed from the shower and calmer, she dried her hair quickly before relaxing on the leather sofa. There was no point in continuing with her habitual cleaning at Zane’s apartment. What would a pilot care if she left a fingerprint?
She found the television remote on the bottom shelf of one end table. Local news trailed across the screen, spouting the latest stock-market concerns and weather before moving to national interests.
Curling up against the wide armrest of the sofa, she’d almost drifted off to sleep when a news report broke through her slumber.
“The body found in a Dumpster near Raleigh, North Carolina, has been identified as Jeff Jurnowski,” the news anchor announced. “Initial report on cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head. The police have several leads, but are not discussing those at this time.”
She sat straight up in a prone position, paralyzed by the words. That was Mason’s former employee, Jeff. With the bullet hole in the head Mason had put there. Poor Jeff. He’d worked on the wrong side of the law, but no one deserved to be murdered in cold blood. Jeff had been nice to her, even showing Angel a picture of his pet beagle.
The televised report rattled her nerves. Mason wasn’t stupid. Jeff’s body hadn’t ended up in a Dumpster by mistake. What was Mason up to? Her hands trembled when she lifted the remote to click up the volume.
The news anchor finished with, “The authorities are running fingerprints found on the man’s possessions. His employer, Mason Lorde, has issued a statement of the company’s sympathy over the loss of a respected employee. Mr. Lorde went on to say he will aid the police in any way and alluded to a female employee who may be a suspect in the case. They are not releasing her name at this time.”
Angel’s mouth fell open. …running fingerprints found on the man’s possessions. She’d touched the photo of Jeff’s dog.
Mason intended to hang Jeff’s murder on her.
Zane shuffled through the front door with Trish and a pizza. His sister’s glum face and quiet countenance a result of his own discontent.
He’d decided to bring her home rather than spend two hours on the road delivering her to the house she shared with Heidi. Worry about Angel slipping away drove that decision.
Women would put him in an early grave.
“Sorry to screw up your evening,” Trish whispered. The anguish in her upturned face told him he’d hit a nerve with his black mood.
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his sister, especially in her present condition. He shouldn’t take his aggravation out on her. But keeping her out of trouble and unharmed became tougher each week. Every trip he made undercover he risked not being around to save her.
He owed her better than that.
He was angry all right, with everybody, including himself.
Angel walked tentatively into the living room from the bathroom hallway. Jazz music playing low seeped into the room from the milk carton–size Bose speakers positioned above his oak entertainment cabinet.
His red T-shirt waved into view. Angel must have dug it out of the clean laundry and showered again.
He inhaled the scent of soap and shampoo. Oh, man. Drained from dealing with Trish, his brain teetered between the rigid discipline responsibility demanded and his desire to strip Angel bare in the shower.
“I’ve apologized to Zane, so I’ll apologize to you. Sorry,” Trish said.
Angel shot him a questioning look.
He fought the urge to tape his sister’s mouth shut. Zane loved his sister, but he’d like one night of peace and quiet. One night he wasn’t reminded of all the bad things that had happened to Trish.
“I asked him to take me home, but he nixed that,” Trish said. “I’ll bunk somewhere out of the way.”
“You can have the foldout. Angel’s in the bedroom. I’ll find another spot,” Zane said.
Trish gave him a strange look. She was clearly surprised that he and Angel were not sleeping together.
“Absolutely not,” Angel stated. “I hardly use up a third of that king-size bed. Trish can sleep in there, too.”
“You sure?” Trish said, her confused gaze flicking between the two of them.
Zane gave Trish a don’t-go-there look he’d given her plenty of times in the past.
Trish shrugged. “I’m going to change and hit the sack then.” Trish gave them each another look then hugged her brother and said, “Love ya. Sorry. I promise not to be pain in your side again.”
His throat tightened. She was good as gold, and he’d crawl through broken glass for her. Trish hadn’t really done anything wrong, hadn’t slipped in months. She was slowly building the business. He hugged her. “Love you, too. Don’t mind me.”
“You need a vacation,” Trish whispered. “With someone like Angel. Do a world of good for what ails you.”
He squeezed her. “Good night.”
Trish turned to Angel and gave her a hug. Zane wanted to chuckle at the surprise on Angel’s face. Her face softened into one of pleasure. Again, he wondered about the woman who never left his thoughts. Where did she come from? Who were her family?
Who wanted to kill her?
When Trish tripped down the hall and closed the bedroom door, Zane turned to Angel. “I called Heidi back and told her I would just bring Trish here for the night.”
“I’m glad you did.”
That didn’t sound good. Was Angel worried he’d make a move on her again? After the one he made earlier she probably had every right to be. What had he been thinking?
Thinking? His brain went numb
the minute he was near her.
Having Trish here would ensure he behaved. Dammit.
Zane stretched the stiff muscles of his neck. “Want something to drink? Water maybe? Sit outside for a few minutes?”
“Sounds good. I’m going to run and get my things off the bed. I’ll be back in just a minute.”
Zane trudged to the kitchen, the weight of the world hung across his shoulders. He carried a cold bottle of water to the patio. A beer normally tasted good on a hot evening, but respect for Trish’s personal battle changed his mind.
Unwilling to turn the outside lights on, he navigated by the glow from the lamps inside. He sat in the comfort of dark, hidden from the world for a short while. A soft breeze dispelled some of the humidity. Weather in south Florida reminded him of visiting the coast in Galveston.
He’d loved Texas, but couldn’t stay there with the memories. Besides, he’d needed a new home for Trish and a place to work where he wasn’t known by half the city. Being a third-generation son of the reputed dynasty of the Jackson Oil Refinery had its pros and cons. Zane couldn’t buy a cup of coffee without some reporter considering it news if he drank it alone or not.
Everyone had expected him to sign on as a company man once he left the navy. He’d surprised his relatives and the city when he turned his back on Texas for Florida. At the time, moving Trish to Ft. Lauderdale and working with Ben, who had already settled there, seemed a good plan.
Worrying about Trish and juggling his career were starting to wear him down.
Infiltrating High Vision’s operations had become an arduous process, slow and tedious. When his task force hadn’t been able to get someone on the inside of their shipping operation, he’d suggested creating Black Jack Airlines charter service. So far, High Vision hadn’t shipped anything questionable, which he attributed to caution and security.
The waiting sponged up every drop of patience he possessed. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t keep his hands off Angel—too much untapped energy.
Liar. The truth was staring him in the face, whether he wanted to cop to it or not. He couldn’t let her go. Just realizing what that meant scared him to his toes.
For his own self-respect, he’d walked away from his parents and joined the navy. For his sister, he’d turned his back on a career as an officer.
What did he think he was going to do now, change everything? He’d been living in the moment, ignoring the future. Even if Angel wasn’t in some serious trouble up to her neck, he had anything but a normal home life.
He should just bring in the authorities. They’d deal with the jerk who was after her. Then he could walk away. She’d made it real clear she had no plans to stick around. He didn’t know her whole name, where she came from or how she’d spent her life.
He didn’t even know what she ate besides pizza.
What he did know was how his insides flip-flopped when she walked into a room. He’d dated some knockout women, but none of them had elicited the feelings Angel drummed up. Feelings he didn’t care to define just yet.
A soft shuffling brought Zane from his mental meandering. The cherry-red shirt glowed in the dim light. Wisps of Angel’s damp hair floated softly about her shoulders as she settled in a chair across from him. He understood her need for distance from him, but ached with the desire to hold her.
“What’s Trish’s story?” she asked.
Zane leaned forward in his chair with his hands on the patio table. For too many years to count, he’d defended Trish against his parents’ criticisms and nasty comments from relatives. Time and guilt had developed a knee-jerk response to anything regarding Trish. But Angel hadn’t accused or passed judgment. She sounded sincerely interested.
“It’s my fault that Trish is getting a late start on life,” Zane said.
“Why do you think it’s your fault?” she asked quietly.
“I deserted her along with everyone else when I went into the navy. I could see my parents felt burdened with an unwanted child, but I was too caught up in what I wanted to do to notice the damage being done to Trish.
“When our parents were killed, I found out they’d left everything to me, the golden boy. Trish knows I’ll take care of her and share everything I have, but that didn’t change how unimportant it made her feel.” He hung his head, recalling the agony and guilt for the way his parents had dealt Trish a final blow.
“I’ll never forget her face at the reading of the will.” Unwanted memories flooded back. Zane paused to consider the damage a piece of paper could inflict then continued.
“Trish was young and didn’t understand the cold logic our parents had used. They left everything to me, once I turn forty, which won’t be for a couple years. Nothing to Trish, not even a fare-thee-well.” He’d read the papers over and over again, sure they hadn’t done that to a child.
Angel took one of his hands in her two slender ones. Her compassionate touch drew away his pain.
Zane glanced up to see the sadness in his soul reflected in Angel’s face. “I tried to tell Trish they 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 so sorry for both of you,” Angel whispered. Her eyes glittered with tears. “But you can’t blame yourself,” Angel soothed. “Your parents deserted her, not you. She idolizes you. And I see the strength adversity has given her. She’s much tougher than you think.”
“That may be, but after hearing the will, Trish took a downturn. Gradually the drinking got worse. She tried AA in Houston, but didn’t stick with it. She’s doing great, but I feel like I’m blowing it being gone all the time. Soon, though, I hope to rearrange my work soon so I can be here for her.”
“You’re a good brother. Trish is very lucky. I wish I’d had a sibling.”
Intentional or not, Angel was giving him a tiny piece to the puzzle of her background. She was an only child. Her mother died when she was twelve. Her father?
Zane swallowed at the sadness in her voice.
Neither spoke for a while. The ocean’s surf stirred against the shore in the distance, filling the silence. 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 humbled him.
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.
“Angel.”
“What?” She spun around.
“I was worried about you today. I can’t handle you being out on the streets alone.”
“I’m sorry. I had no choice.”
“You do.” Zane forced his hands to stay away from her, his thoughts to stay on topic.
“I wish I did.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, moved toward him as if she’d forgotten how he’d taken advantage of her earlier.
“Why won’t you let me do something for you?” he pleaded.
“I will.”
His heart raced. “What? I’ll do it.”
“This.” Her hands knifed up between them, around his neck. She touched her lips to his, softly.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupped her head, the kiss full of compassion, not carnal desire.
Oh, man, he craved the feel of her next to him. Her fingers splayed across his chest. 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.
Zane ended the kiss, slowly, brushing his lips across her ch
eek and forehead.
“Honey.” He cleared his tight throat and tried again. “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.
He let her ease away from him, reluctantly, 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. Angel had only been a child when her mother had died. She was cagey about her father. What had life thrown at her since then? He had to know. Every minute with her tied him in one more knot.
Tomorrow he’d convince her to tell him her full name or he’d find a way to research his data, even if he had to go outside the agency.
He had to know the identity of this woman before he let it go any farther between them.
Be serious. It had already gone too far. He was in deep.
“C.K., no sign of her yet. Got another six men on the street,” Joe said.
“Keep a tail on the pilot,” C.K. ordered. “Leave a man on the front of the apartment entrance. I’ll cover the back.”
C.K. snapped the phone shut. He had a feeling about the apartment. His second sense was usually right.
She’d show up there. When she did, he’d make sure Mason’s Angel didn’t float away.
Chapter 13
Zane was sure he’d only just fallen asleep, when his cell phone woke him. He checked the digital clock on the VCR: four-ten. Unfortunately that was a.m.
He flipped the phone open. “Zane.”
“Sammy, here. Sorry to roust you so early on a Saturday, but a special shipment is coming in at the docks in Jacksonville. Central office wants you to check it out, be in the area to deliver if High Vision calls on short notice. They’ve been known to pull that and get whoever is handy so no one has time to plan.”
Zane stretched his stiff neck. This was the one they’d been waiting to hear about. “What time is it due through customs?”
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