by Debra Webb
“When they took your aunt away,” he began, his voice strained somehow, “did either of the men touch you in any way? Brush against you?”
She shook her head, the movement sending long tendrils of pure silk swaying across her shoulders. “Not that I can recall. They…” She inhaled an unsteady breath. “They mostly just grabbed my arm.”
Cole was surprised to see his hands shaking slightly as he moved toward the closure of her bra. He squeezed them into fists then relaxed. He clenched his jaw and focused. He had a job to do. He reached for the closure and unfastened it. She shivered, he did the same. The reaction annoyed him.
“Wait.”
She turned slightly, staring up at him over her bare shoulder. The image tugged at something inside him which only made him angrier at himself.
“I almost forgot,” she rushed to say. “They took our coats. I remember now that I forgot mine when they took me away afterward.” A frown marred her smooth forehead. “Those two men, the one who died this morning and the other one who came to my house yesterday, drove my aunt and I to some place to question us. We were blindfolded so I don’t know where.”
“How long was the drive? Did you stay on paved streets?” Irrationally, Cole was thankful for the reprieve. At least he had time to regroup before touching her again.
“I…I’m not sure. I was so upset. Maybe thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes from her aunt’s condo in Chicago. Angel had already told him that she’d gone to her aunt’s place to tell her everything when the men arrived.
Angel pushed her hair back from her face and turned more fully toward him. “That man, the one who died this morning—” her gaze drifted to the window “—he searched us thoroughly. Made us open our blouses so he could see if we were wearing a wire or something like that.”
Cole swore softly. “He knew you weren’t wearing a wire,” he snapped. “It was an excuse to get you to strip for him.”
She looked mortified. “No…”
“Show me how he touched you,” Cole ordered.
Angel tried to remember exactly what happened that night, but so much had happened…think! She had to think. She clutched her bra to her breasts with one arm and reached down to show him with the other.
“I remember he ran his hands over my sides.” She focused hard on that horrifying moment. “All the way around to my spine. But he didn’t have anything in his hand.” She’d been so terrified, could she really say that with any real accuracy?
“Like this?” Danes flatted his palms against her abdomen, then slowly slid them around her waist.
Her breath trapped in her throat. Those wide, strong hands created a blaze wherever they touched. That intent blue gaze connected with hers and, knowing he wanted an answer, she nodded as best she could.
As he’d warned at the outset, he inspected every square inch of her torso from the sensitive area beneath her breasts to the rim of her panties. She couldn’t look at him, though she knew he was looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her, watching, analyzing. She didn’t want him to see the way his touch affected her. It was crazy. He was ruthless…uncaring…
“Don’t move.”
She opened her eyes in time to see him crouch down in front of her. He turned her slightly and inspected her left hip. She could feel his breath on her skin. Goose bumps skittered. Her fingers itched to touch his hair. To see if it felt as thick and silky as it looked. Despite the uncharacteristic length, the man had great hair. She closed her eyes and banished the crazy thought.
He lifted something from her skin and peered at it for a time before looking up at her. As startled as she was to see that he’d found something, for one moment she couldn’t get past the vision of his face so close to her quivering belly.
“This is how they found us.”
He stood and showed her the tiny transparent disk that had been stuck to her skin.
A line formed between her eyebrows as she stared at the near-invisible object. “I should have felt that?”
“You wouldn’t. Certainly not under the circumstances.”
He walked to the bathroom and flushed the disk down the toilet.
She looked at the dried blood on her hands and shuddered. “Can I wash up now?”
“You’re certain he didn’t touch you anywhere else?”
“I’m certain.”
He nodded. “Clean up.”
Angel couldn’t say for sure right now since her own emotions were in a tailspin, but she got the distinct impression that Mr. Cold-As-Ice was uncomfortable.
Unbelievable.
10:00 a.m.
24 hours, 15 minutes remaining…
COLE WAITED in a parking garage downtown until the shops opened. He’d allowed Angel to take a shower, during which time he’d closely inspected the clothing she intended to wear. No more silent bugs. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t considered that possibility. He should have.
“What’re we doing?”
To her credit she hadn’t asked any questions since they left the motel. He assumed that his seeing her undressed had unsettled her. Unfortunately it had rattled him to some degree. He didn’t know what to make of that. Perhaps it was his proximity to finally achieving his goal that made him susceptible. Whatever the case, he was back on track now.
“We’re going to make a few purchases and find a place to lie low until dark.”
“Until dark?” Leather crinkled as she turned more fully toward him. “I only have twenty-four more hours. They’re going to kill my aunt! I can’t sit around waiting.”
“He,” Cole corrected.
She cut her hands through the air. “How the hell do you know there’s only one guy left? He could have a dozen friends in on this with him.”
“There’s only one to be concerned with.”
She plowed her fingers through her hair and heaved a sigh. “You can’t be certain.”
He leveled his gaze on hers. “I am certain.”
“Whatever,” she snapped. “We can’t just sit here.”
“What do you propose we do?” He injected a good measure of condescension in his tone to put her in her place. He doubted the strategy would be entirely successful but he had to try.
Her mouth dropped open but no words came out. From her frustrated expression he could see that she frantically searched for an option. One she wouldn’t find.
“So we just wait for him to call again?”
“No.” He removed the keys from the ignition. “We wait for nightfall.”
He emerged from the SUV, which he had also swept thoroughly for alien electronic devices, and moved around to the passenger side.
He opened her door. “Get out.”
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners, Mr. Danes?”
She climbed out to stand next to him. She waited, staring expectantly up at him. Apparently the question wasn’t meant as a rhetorical one.
If he hadn’t been so damn tired he might have been able to come up with a scathing reply that would shut her up but he lacked the energy to waste.
“Miss Parker, in case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life this morning. Try and show a little gratitude.”
“Not so fast.” She snagged his arm when he turned away.
He produced the kind of stare that generally sent anyone of the species, male or female, into retreat. “What is it now?”
Her face turned grim. “What was it you asked the man you shot? What did he tell you?”
He’d expected her to get around to that eventually. She’d been too traumatized to inquire before now. Obviously, the shock had worn off to an extent.
“I asked him where they were keeping your aunt,” he told her, seeing no point in hiding that fact from her.
She blinked, startled. “Did…did he tell you?”
“No.”
A brutal blow of defeat punched Angel, making her sway. She was running out of time. In twenty-four hours her aunt would be dead. She wasn’t any closer to fi
nding her now than she had been when that bastard issued his ultimatum. What was she supposed to do?
The feel of Danes’s hands on her arms, holding her steady, tugged her from the troubling thoughts.
“Sorry…I—” Why the hell was she apologizing to him? She pulled free of his hold. “Let’s get this over with.”
He escorted her to the major department store next door to the parking garage. With an economy of time and effort he purchased a change of clothes for himself as well as for her. Apparently he wasn’t taking any chances on more bugs.
Her suspicion was confirmed when he picked up another rental car at the airport, leaving his SUV in the short-term parking area. The only items she was allowed to keep were her purse and cell phone, which he had disassembled and reassembled in under a minute.
He pointed the new rental in the direction of town and drove for half an hour without saying anything.
“What are we doing now?” she asked as he finally parked midway along a crowded city block. She hated being left in the dark. He’d scarcely said a word since the exchange regarding the day’s agenda in the parking garage nearly two hours ago.
He didn’t bother responding, just got out and came around to her door. What was the point in arguing? He had the guns, hers included, he was in charge.
She followed him into the large corner drugstore, her mind drifting to her daughter. She tried not to think how long it had been since she’d seen her…held her. If she closed her eyes she could call to mind her daughter’s sweet baby scent. Oh how she missed her. If she could just get through this and get back to her little girl…if her aunt was safe. She’d never ask God for anything else as long as she lived.
By the time her mind shifted back to the present, Danes had filled a small shopping basket with several items. She frowned as she attempted to identify the various goods. Gauze. Antibiotic ointment. Peroxide. A travel-size sewing kit. Gauze tape. A few male essentials, like a disposable razor and shaving cream. Two toothbrushes. Toothpaste.
Some of the items she could understand but what was with all the medical supplies?
Before she could question his selections he strode up to the counter and paid. Moments later they were in the car again. She didn’t ask any questions because she sensed that he had no desire to talk. Instead, she studied his stony profile. As unyielding as the angular lines of his face, as hard-hearted as he clearly was, she had to admit that he was a handsome man.
Nothing about his hard, determined demeanor had really changed. She inclined her head and considered him again. No, maybe it had. She sensed another kind of distance about him, a new sort of remoteness. He felt even more unapproachable. And there was a decidedly weary edge about his posture.
She prayed that man hadn’t told him more than he would say. If Danes already knew that her aunt was…hurt…
“Are you certain there isn’t something you need to tell me?” she ventured.
“I’ve told you all there is to know.”
He sounded tired rather than annoyed or impatient.
“I still don’t like the idea of wasting the rest of the day. Shouldn’t we be out looking? Isn’t there something we can do?” It just felt wrong to wait while her aunt remained in the hands of a killer. She suppressed a shudder. What if the other man never called? How would she find her aunt then? She could be anywhere. Fear twisted inside her.
Danes pulled into the lot of a hotel, this one more upscale than the last. After parking in front of the lobby he sat silently for so long that Angel worried she’d pushed him too far. Anxiety sent her heart thumping against her rib cage. She should have kept her mouth shut. Another mistake. Would she never learn?
“Go in, get us a room.” He handed her a credit card and driver’s license. “Use that name.”
“What?” He wanted her to go in alone? She had to have heard wrong.
“Just do it.”
If the ferocity behind those three words hadn’t been enough, the lethal look he pointed in her direction definitely did the trick. Angel wrenched the door open and hurried into the hotel lobby without hesitating. She glanced at the name on the credit card, then verified it with the name on the license before reaching the desk.
Damon Rodale. Cincinnati, Ohio.
“May I help you, ma’am?” The clerk gifted her with a practiced smile from behind his gleaming counter.
“Yes, I need a room.” She placed the credit card and driver’s license on the counter. “Just for one night,” she added, producing a smile of her own.
The credit card was approved with a single swipe. No questions other than the usual, smoking or non-smoking, king or two double beds. Incredible. He recited the directions for the easiest access to the room and passed the key card along with the credit card and license across the counter.
“Thank you.” She gathered the cards and fake ID but hesitated before leaving. “Do you have room service?” she asked, certain a hotel this size would.
“The kitchen is open until midnight,” he assured with another gracious smile.
“Thank you.”
Food entered the chaos in her head for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten. Before she and Mildred had been descended upon by madmen? She was pretty sure that was correct. After she’d gotten her daughter safely tucked away she’d forced herself to eat in order to keep up her energy.
She wondered then when Danes had eaten last. She couldn’t imagine him confessing to any sort of physiological need.
The sight of him sitting, his forehead braced against the steering wheel, struck her hard as she approached the vehicle.
She rushed to his door. “Are you all right?”
His head snapped upward at the same time his hand flew to his weapon with phenomenal speed. “Did you get the room?”
She nodded. “We can drive around back and park there. There’s a rear exit near our room.” It wasn’t until she told him those details that she realized she should likely have asked for those very accommodations.
“Good.”
As soon as she’d gotten in he pulled away from the parking slot and followed her instructions. She watched him closely as he walked to the hotel’s rear entrance. His movements seemed steady but something was clearly wrong here. It wasn’t until they were safely behind the locked door of their room that she knew just how wrong.
He winced as he removed his jacket. The tear in his black shirt and the slight variation in fabric color in the surrounding area loudly telegraphed the problem.
“You’ve been shot.” She breathed the words.
He staggered but regained his balance with the aid of the nearest table. “I think I’m going to need your assistance.”
“How bad is it?” She rushed to him and started to unbutton his shirt.
He manacled her hands in his. “No matter what happens,” he warned, his voice taut, “don’t take me to a hospital. We have to stay out of sight.”
“But what if—”
He fell against her, his weight dragging them both down to the floor.
This time he didn’t try to catch himself.
This time he didn’t speak.
Chapter Seven
Inside the Colby Agency, 11:45 a.m.
22 hours, 30 minutes remaining…
Lucas Camp sat down at the long conference table, alongside his wife. He didn’t like the worry etched across her lovely face. He hadn’t seen her this upset since before they’d discovered her son was alive.
When would this end?
“Still no word from Cole Danes?” she asked, her voice hollow from lack of sleep.
Lucas shook his head. “Nothing. I haven’t been able to contact him since he left the office yesterday.”
Victoria pressed her hands to her mouth.
“I know this is difficult, Victoria, but I still believe he will pull this off. He’s never failed before. He won’t this time.”
She turned to him, anguish cl
ouding her eyes. “How could this happen? Mildred…” She shook her head. “He may not be able to save Mildred and her niece. And, dear God, what about the child? Has anyone figured out where the child is?”
This hit far too close to home. Lucas hated to see her go through this kind of torment again. He’d sworn to protect her and he hadn’t been able to. Leberman, the devil, still had his cronies. Lucas had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t really be over until every last one of them was dead.
“I’ve got people working on it,” he assured her gently. Never one to take chances, Lucas had two of his Specialists working the case. Unfortunately, Cole Danes had proven every bit as capable as his Specialists. He’d given them the slip as if they were mere recruits fresh out of training. But they would pick up his trail again. For now, Victoria didn’t need to be bothered with any of that. “Casey believes Angel hid the child. That’s why they’ve taken Mildred. It was the only other way they knew to get at Angel.”
“What else does Casey have to say?”
Thomas Casey was Lucas’s boss. The director of Mission Recovery and a good friend. He’d gone through this nightmare with Lucas, had provided unrelenting support. He had called this morning with an update he didn’t want to discuss via the airwaves. His plane had arrived in Chicago thirty minutes ago. Lucas had sent a car to bring him to the office. Meanwhile, he and Victoria could only speculate as to what Casey had uncovered.
The door opened and Thomas Casey stepped inside the conference room. Lucas stood to greet him. Though nearly twenty years Lucas’s junior, Thomas Casey had amassed a wealth of experience in the world of covert operations. He was a top-notch director. But no one, not even Lucas, would ever know the man behind the job.
Thomas Casey didn’t let anyone close.
“I apologize for being so vague when we spoke this morning,” Casey said by way of greeting as he shook Lucas’s outstretched hand. He nodded to Victoria. “Good to see you, Victoria.”
“Thank you for coming. I hope you have some news that can help us, Thomas.”