“Right around nine this morning. Think your man can help?” Sammy referred to the informant Zane had met the night he’d flown in with Angel. The guy hadn’t given him anything concrete in Charleston, but he might have a tip regarding this shipment. With the information market, you never knew unless you asked.
“I don’t know. Let me get up there and see what’s shaking. Have a car dropped at the airport. I don’t have time to call for one.”
“You got it. Anything else?”
Solve his personal dilemma with Angel and Trish? “No. Call you later.” He twisted right and left, trying to unkink his aching back. The sofa bed needed a new mattress, one that would hold his bulk.
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 good.
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 near the door, then stopped.
Yellow running shoes were parked to the right of the entrance.
Oh, yeah. He knew what to do.
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 were tools for specific jobs and transmitters of all sizes he used for listening as well as tracking. After he found a transmitter the size of a shirt button, Zane 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, creating another mental note to swing by the marina and check on the boat.
Too much stretch would leave slack in the ropes and his boat would be damaged along each side.
Pulling the laces very loose, he opened the shoe wide. He cut a slit at the base of the tongue. With tweezers he worked the transmitter inside the padded covering, deep enough that Angel would never feel it.
The next time she performed a Houdini vanishing act, he had a magic wand to make her reappear.
Pleased with himself, he almost whistled going 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 them and you’re so neat I knew you wouldn’t want to track through the apartment.”
She inspected the shoes.
He’d drawn 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.”
“I suppose I should thank you.” 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 rather let Trish sleep some more.”
“I don’t mind. When will you be back?” she asked, a slight catch in her voice.
Was it his imagination or would she miss him?
“I’m 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 be.”
“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 inwardly. 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 as if 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 and adjust the new bowlines. One good squall would sink the boat at the dock if the ropes were too loose.
Thunder rumbled outside, assuring him the ropes would be tested soon.
Zane hugged her close and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I left my cell-phone number on the counter. 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 one last kiss, then left.
Angel carried a mug of coffee out to the patio to watch the sun rise. She inhaled the salt air, enjoying the special peace found only during early-morning hours. Deep red and dusty lavender clouds tinged the edge of the horizon. Wasn’t there an old weather saying? “Red skies at morning, sailors take warning.”
She hoped Zane would also take no chances.
He’d done nothing but take a chance since meeting her. Angel raked a hand through her hair. She shouldn’t have agreed to stay put. Zane just didn’t understand how deep her trouble ran. His offer to help was sweet and noble considering the type of men chasing after her, but he thought it was just a relationship gone sour.
When Zane returned, he’d ask more questions. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him anything that would involve him in this mess. His first move would be to bring in the police. He’d said it too many times for her to believe she would convince him otherwise.
She’d stayed too long already.
If she didn’t have to hang around for Trish she’d be making a straight line to the boat. There were all sorts of storage areas she hadn’t dug through.
Then what was she going to do?
It was simple.
Find the coins and leave, or risk the life of the man she was falling for.
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 try to lift off ahead of the building storm.
Just another headache he didn’t need this morning.
Like worrying about what Trish might say. She had no reason to discuss him or their family…or their last name.
He should have covered that somehow, but hadn’t been thinking clearly this morning. Not thinking clearly when it came to Angel was becoming routine. Just have to hurry back and hope for a break, that Trish would be in a big hurry to go home.
Zane leaped aboard. Starting on the bow and working his way to the stern, he made quick work of tightening the ropes that had slackened overnight. The boat was old, but he might as well preserve what was there. He climbed down into the cabin.
Under the front bunk he lifted the lid to access a lower compartment and dragged out the package of new side curtains
he’d had made. After replacing the lid and cushion, he tore the brown paper packaging away then carried the four curtain sections onto the deck to sort them. Zane picked one up, figured out it was for the starboard side then tossed it aside.
Thunk!
What the devil was that? He lifted the section back up. The bottom-hemmed pocket bulged. He squeezed two fingers into the pocket, felt something hard surrounded by plastic. Zane moved over to the cockpit where he kept a pair of needle-nose pliers on the dash. He pinched a corner of the plastic between the metal fingers and wiggled it out far enough to see a coin.
What was a gold coin doing there?
He carefully snaked out the rest of the long plastic sleeve and laid it on the captain’s chair.
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 in Raleigh from the custom shop, carried them around until he’ loaded the package into the Titan. They were with him all the way until he’d unloaded them when he landed.
The package hadn’t been out of his sight.
Charleston. Angel had ridden to Charleston with him.
His skin chilled at his next thought. Had she stolen these? Was that why someone was chasing 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 if she’d broken the law he faced his greatest challenge—arresting the woman he was falling head over heels for.
Was it his lot in life to pick women with black secrets?
Angel said she’d taken something from the guy chasing her, but it didn’t belong to him.
These coins belonged to someone.
If confronted with the coins, would Angel admit the truth? Or refuse to share her secrets until she absolutely had to give them up?
Thunder rolled overhead. Clouds thickened and the wind swirled through the marina. The day would only get worse.
Zane 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. Using his knife, he slit the side of one sleeve. With the tweezers, he lifted the package over one open Ziploc and shook 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 cut the one section from the long sleeve and dropped it into the other Ziploc, then placed the remaining coins 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 bag filled with rare coins between the loops.
Zane quickly snapped the side curtains into place and closed up the boat. He kept large brown envelopes in his truck under the back seat just for handling evidence.
He’d drop the coin and plastic sleeve along with the cup Angel had touched at Ben’s office after he returned from Jacksonville. Ben hadn’t called with news of a baby yet, so he wouldn’t be in the lab today. There was no way Zane could let anyone else in on this until he knew where the coins came from.
She might have a reasonable explanation.
He might believe pigs could fly.
The balmy tropical heat didn’t bother C.K., even dressed in his triple-X black T-shirt with long sleeves. Rolling thunder overhead promised some damp relief.
He lifted the infrared glasses to study the girl on Zane Black’s patio. She’d just come outside to lounge with a mug of what he assumed to be coffee.
Having been there all night, he knew exactly when she’d stepped outside. His cell phone vibrated against his hip. He flipped the tiny phone open.
“Speak.” He kept his voice low.
“We followed the pilot to the marina. 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 girl. 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 the 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 when he lands.”
“Got it.” C.K. folded the phone close and lifted his field glasses.
Angel had moved to stand at the rail. A southern breeze blowing in ahead of the squall whipped long strands of hair around her face.
He sharpened the focus. The red shirt plastered against her body by the brisk wind outlined her plump breasts and narrow waist.
Mason had said not to damage his merchandise, but he hadn’t dictated any parameters.
C.K. released the glasses, letting them flop against his chest. He leaned back into his cubbyhole.
He’d spend his time contemplating the potential pleasures his line of work offered.
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. “Sugar, this is much better than Zane’s. By the way, 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.”
“Oh, sure.” Trish smiled and lowered her attention to the cup of coffee.
Angel wondered if Zane’s sister could read the inky brew like a fortune teller read tea leaves, could tell that Angel had just lied to herself? She wanted to be more than friends with Zane.
Being the truth didn’t make it possible.
“I’ve got to get my act together,” Trish said to her mug. “I’m getting in the way of Zane’s life.”
What do you say to that? Angel wiped more. Zane would be able to perform surgery on that counter if she didn’t stop cleaning it.
“Angel, have you ever had something you wanted real bad just out of your reach?”
Angel paused her hand and stared at the counter.
For five years she had 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, Angel had intended to prove she was better than the stranger described in a stack of court documents.
She’d trained to compete in the Tamarind, to regain a grain of respect in the athletic community. Mason stole that from her.
Now she fought to save her life and clear her name.
She couldn’t comprehend not fighting to win.
Yeah, she’d wanted a few things really bad that were beyond her reach. Including Zane.
“Yes, I had something very important I worked very hard for many years to earn taken away from me.” Ange
l knew they were talking about two different things, but the dynamics were the same. In some ways, they both wanted the same thing—a life. Trish’s enemy—the bottle—was just as evil as the one threatening to destroy Angel—Mason.
“If you want it bad enough, you’ll get it,” Angel said, trying for support in her voice, not judgment.
Trish stared at her with soulful brown eyes then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I know what you’re saying.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
Angel returned to her cleaning, attacking the sink next. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. Ten minutes until seven.
Once Trish got her act together and left, Angel was headed to the marina.
Salty air whipped through the lush landscaped terrace, slapping palm leaves and rattling the bushes. Still tucked away from sight, C.K’s phone vibrated at seven-fifteen.
“Speak.”
“The pilot’s in Jacksonville. I got a call from a local source. He hasn’t filed an exit flight for departure yet.”
C.K. grinned. Life was good.
“Go to the meet point,” C.K. ordered. “I’ll be there in a couple hours.” He closed his phone and slipped it into the pocket on the side of his black cargo pants.
He flexed his chest, loosening muscles tightened by hours spent pressing weights. After an automatic check of his 9mm Glock, he stuffed the weapon into the back waistband of his pants and moved forward toward the only patio with the glass doors open.
Chapter 14
Squatting next to the kitchen counter, Angel tied her shoes as Trish dialed Heidi for the third time. Trish held the phone to her ear for thirty seconds before she hung up, reached for her coffee mug and plopped onto a bar stool. “Heidi probably went to breakfast with someone. She loves to go to Saturday brunch.”
Angel smiled politely. She couldn’t leave until Trish had departed, or Zane’s sister would ask where she was going, maybe want to join her.
Zane was right about one thing. Trish 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.
Worth Every Risk Page 16