Falcon's Angel

by Danita Minnis

“Just working, baby.”

  “You won’t tell me, will you?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “It can’t be this way. I need to know where you are. You said you would call, you promised.”

  “I did, but you were on a shopping trip in London.”

  “You could have called my cell.”

  “I didn’t want to ruin your week.” He lifted her chin so that she met his eyes. “I didn’t have anything good to say.” Now there was understanding in her eyes, and something else. She was thinking about how he’d left her all those years ago. “Hey, stop thinking so much.”

  She pulled away to spear some roast chicken, but did not bring the fork to her lips.

  “I’m sorry, Angel. When I’m … working, I get focused on … the work, and…”

  How do you explain the killing mind? He didn’t want to explain it to her. She was still a virgin when it came to these things and he wanted her to stay that way.

  Falcon drew her to him because he needed that kiss more than she did now.

  Angel pulled him by the collar to close the distance. She must need it, too.

  “Todd, is that you?”

  Angel blinked and stood up before he could taste her lips. They both turned to the doorway.

  Miles came into the room, pulling a petite brunette in behind him.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” the brunette said, but she sure didn’t look it.

  “May I introduce Tara Crawford?”

  “Tara,” Falcon stared at the woman dressed in tennis whites. She smiled and came forward to kiss him on the cheek.

  Miles looked from Falcon to Tara. “Do you two know each other?”

  “We met in New York.” Falcon caught Angel’s eye.

  “It’s been too long, Todd.” Tara moved back to Miles, who put an arm around her. “How have you been?”

  “But he’s…“ Miles began.

  “Todd is family, Tara. What a wonderful coincidence that you know Todd.” Angel gave her brother a quelling look.

  Miles closed his mouth.

  Falcon was grateful for Angel’s quick thinking. She would never forget Todd, his New York identity and the night she’d tried to maim him with passports. It stood to reason that if Tara thought he was Todd, there must be something wrong about her. However, Angel’s next words made him stiffen.

  “How do you two know each other?”

  “We met at a party.” Tara idly rubbed Miles’s arm. “I lived in the city for a while, but I moved on.” She gave Angel an assessing look before her big brown eyes moved back to Falcon in silent question.

  Tara had cut her dark brown hair shoulder length, probably so that it didn’t detract from that body busting out of the tennis whites. With her, every move, every outfit, was more about revealing than concealing.

  She hadn’t revealed their affair. He had no idea whether that was for Angel’s or Miles’s benefit. This woman who called herself Tara needn’t have bothered with the pretense. Although he dreaded another confrontation with his hot-tempered bride-to-be, he would have to tell her about the affair. But neither she nor Miles would understand.

  Civilians had no idea the lengths special agents and their prey went to in this industry of crime and retribution.

  It was clear that Tara didn’t have a clue he had been about to bring her in six months ago. Yes, the smile on her face contained no fear of exposure and it told him that she had not escaped in New York, but had just moved on to the next job.

  Falcon felt grim satisfaction that he’d finally found her, but the timing couldn’t be worse. The location was not only regretful, but also suspicious.

  How close had the jewel thief gotten to the heir of Cardiff Jewels?

  Miles cleared his throat. “Tara is a stock broker.”

  “Are you still with the firm on Wall Street?” Tara’s eyes slide once more to Angel.

  “No, I’ve moved on also,” Falcon said.

  Angel sat back down in her chair with arms folded. She remained silent, but there was a fight brewing in her golden eyes.

  Oh yeah, this is going to be a problem. He’d have to deal with it later. Right now, he needed to find out how far Tara had gotten with Miles.

  He met a similar pair of emerald eyes in which the light of recognition finally dawned. “How did you two meet?”

  “We met in Aspen a few months ago.” Miles’s words no longer held his signature jaunt, but carefully worded as if the Cardiff heir were giving a speech in his father’s boardroom. “Tara loves to ski as much as I do. We found ourselves on the same team.” He looked to Angel, before adding, “I’ve got a great idea. We were going out to dinner tonight, but Cook is preparing a special meal for, ah, Todd’s return to the fold, so we’re postponing until tomorrow night. Why don’t you two join us for the only private dinner we’ll be allowed before the crowds arrive?”

  “I don’t think…” Angel began.

  “We’ll be happy to join you tomorrow night,” Falcon responded with the only answer that suited his new agenda. It wasn’t necessary to look at Angel; he could feel her stony gaze burning a hole through his head.

  “Wonderful! Sacha, we’ll have to be sure and not tire ourselves out too much before dinner tomorrow,” Tara said.

  “Right,” Angel murmured.

  “What have you girls got planned?” he asked.

  “Sacha has offered to show me the great Cardiff estate on horseback,” Tara said. “We may even go swimming in the River Wharfe.” She winked at Angel. “I’ll let you borrow one of my naughty swimsuits, give the men something to ogle!”

  “Men? At the Wharfe?” Angel frowned, and then shot Tara a sage glance. “I have lots of naughty swimsuits.”

  Tara didn’t look convinced. “You can borrow one of mine. I need you looking sinful out there, sweetheart.”

  Angel crossed her legs, exposing more of that vanilla skin Falcon hadn’t touched in three weeks.

  Miles chuckled. Falcon refused to look at him.

  “Well, I’ll need to freshen up.” Tara tongued Miles while Falcon and a simmering Angel looked on. She gave them a brilliant smile before sashaying out the door.

  Falcon sighed heavily.

  “In the library.” Miles led the way.

  Falcon leaned against the fireplace’s marble mantle, waiting for Angel to sit down.

  Miles, however, couldn’t wait. “Now then, the only business you have in New York City is undercover work, unless you’re taking over the restaurant business, and I know you’d never do that. I can only assume that my girlfriend had something to do with an investigation.”

  “The only Tara Crawford with a social security number matching her description in New York died five years ago in a car accident. We don’t know her real name.”

  “What has she done?” Miles asked.

  “She’s hit several museums in New York. We have evidence that she was in California before that. She has eluded the Organization for some time now. She’s a thief and she’s known as the Jeweler.”

  Miles shook his head in disgust. “She’s been here for two days now.”

  “Has she been with you the whole time?”

  “Just about, except in the bath.”

  “What has she learned in those two days?” he asked.

  “Nothing really. She had some questions about the Sacha Collection.”

  Falcon looked at Angel and she explained. “My father launched a new line in honor of my twenty-first birthday. Tara asked to see my bangle. It’s the first piece from the collection, one of a kind and set with canary yellow diamonds.”

  “You wore it that day with the gold skirt.” His eyes slid down her body with the memory. When their eyes met again, the day he’d taken her against the apartment door was in her eyes.

  She looked away. “I showed her the bangle.”

  “What day with the gold skirt?” Miles was grinning.

  Falcon sat in a wingback chair because if he didn’t, he was going to pick Angel up an
d take her to his bed. The last weekend before the wedding, possibly the only opportunity he was going to get to touch her before they were each held hostage by their respective families.

  “Tara’s vanity won’t allow her to leave without the bangle, and it won’t be the only thing she’ll take. She knows about the vault. That’s why she’s here.”

  “Miles, you must tell her to leave.”

  “No, Angel. She needs to stay here where we can watch her. Miles, I’ve got a plan. It would help if you would go on as before. We don’t want her getting nervous.”

  “Pity,” Miles muttered. “She has a set of knockers on her that could provide nourishment for an entire third world nation.”

  “She hasn’t got anything over Angel,” Falcon countered.

  “Excuse me, I’m sitting right here.” Angel glared at him.

  Falcon cleared his throat and got his brain out of Angel’s bodice. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

  “You slept with her, didn’t you?” Angel’s blunt question wiped the grin off her brother’s face.

  Falcon took a deep breath. “It was business.”

  “Business? That seems to be a recurring theme with you, doesn’t it?” Angel gritted out. “I knew it!”

  Miles paced the floor. “You slept with my girlfriend?”

  “She wasn’t your girlfriend when I slept with her. Now, calm down. We’re going to have a rational conversation about this.”

  “Will that rational conversation include your reason for sleeping with a suspect? My girlfriend?”

  “She’s not your girlfriend, she’s a jewel thief! Miles, I don’t want this to end with the two of us going after each other. You’re family.”

  Right now, his family was exchanging smirks, but they kept silent.

  “We’re talking about a calculating criminal. Everything she does is for a reason.” Falcon turned to Angel. “It is my job to bring her in to headquarters by any means necessary. Very often those means dictate themselves, and you act on the natural order of enfolding events.”

  Angel stood upright in fury. “Natural order? I’m sorry, do you mean to say that your tactics take a deviant turn when a woman is involved? Rather like that of a bloodhound in the hunt, isn’t it? No wonder you love your work!”

  “Now hold on just a minute, she came on to me! And it fit the plan. I was able to watch her.”

  “In your New York apartment?” Angel sneered.

  “You lived with my girlfriend?” Miles had to ask.

  “Miles, she’s the Jeweler. And I only lived with her a couple of weeks. I was building a case against her. One day I came home and she was gone. I thought she had found me out, but I see now that she just went on to the next mark.”

  Miles finally seemed to be aware of the real issue at hand. He went over to the side bar and poured a shot of bourbon. He held it out to Falcon.

  Falcon shook his head. “I think better sober.”

  Not even glancing at Angel, Miles downed the drink in one gulp.

  Angel rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Muddy, I don’t like bourbon anyway. And no, my nerves are not perfectly shot, either.”

  Ignoring Angel, Miles sat down next to her on the sofa and looked at Falcon. “What do you have in mind?”

  “What has she told you?”

  “She graduated from USC and moved to New York a few years ago. She has a flat in London.”

  “Convenient.” Falcon nodded. “She’s still masquerading as a stock broker. Have you been to her office?”

  “No, but I have been to her flat.”

  “I‘ll bet there is no office and she’s been scouting Cardiff Jewels these past months. You’re her in.” He watched Miles, who was shaking his head. “What is it?”

  “She’s here for the wedding. Bloody hell, Dad will have a fit.”

  “Dad? What about me?” Angel elbowed her brother in the arm. Miles didn’t even blink.

  “She won’t be here that long, trust me,” Falcon said. “And I’d prefer not to raise any alarms. We don’t have to tell Roman yet. We still have some time to see what develops. I want to catch her in the act. But, there is one thing.” He looked at Angel. “I want you to cancel on her tomorrow.”

  Angel raised both hands in surrender. “Yes, I know. Too young to drink, too young to know what you’ve been doing for three weeks—God knows where—and now I’m too young to catch a jewel thief. But I wasn’t too young this summer in Naples…”

  “Sacha,”

  The tigress reddened at his warning and closed her mouth.

  Miles howled with laughter.

  “Listen, in case you haven’t noticed, we have a situation here,” Falcon said. “Can we stay on topic?”

  Angel rose from the sofa. “Oh, all right. I didn’t want to go horseback riding with the ‘American beauty’ anyway,” she said, mimicking her father’s baritone endearment for Tara.

  “That’s my girl.” Their talk was over, judging from the look on her face. “So, Miles, what do you say to some laps before dinner?” Falcon asked.

  “I’ll meet you over there in a few.” Miles left the room.

  “Angel,” She walked passed him on her way out of the library. Falcon sighed. “This isn’t over.”

  * * * *

  “Is there room for one more?”

  Tara in high heels at poolside brought them both to the surface. Her strappy red sandals covered more skin than the matching bikini.

  Having worked off some frustration in the pool, Falcon could be civil. “I’ll leave it to you two.”

  “Don’t leave on my account.” Tara turned sideways and bent to undo the straps on her sandals, giving them an artistic view of her near nude form any photographer would kill for.

  “I think I’ll see what Sacha is up to,” he said.

  Miles continued to stare at Tara’s almost-covered assets. “You didn’t do too badly. Next time I may let you win a round.”

  Falcon got out of the pool and managed to sidestep out of Tara’s way without colliding with her. It wasn’t easy. She was standing right in front of him with her legs spread wide like a Bond girl looking for trouble.

  “We don’t really need suits now, do we, Miles?” Tara murmured, but her eyes followed Falcon as he picked up a towel from the bench.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Falcon saw a flash of red hit the tile floor. And then another. The two strips of material wouldn’t have survived one lap in the pool anyway.

  Tara didn’t get an answer, so Miles was probably still speechless, or otherwise engaged.

  Falcon headed for the exit. “See you at dinner.” He didn’t get a response and he didn’t look back to find out why.

  He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. Up the north wing stairs, he passed Angel’s room. Strains of the Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 filtered through the door.

  For a moment, her playing made everything seem right in the world, the way it should be.

  He saw Margaux at the Opéra de Paris where he’d surprised her with a visit while on a business trip to handle his father’s affairs. She had already looked like his Marchesa then, the glittering panniers of her gown matched her eyes and her shiny black hair a mass of curls topped with a gold circlet. Together in a world that had been il Dragone-free, at least to the Marchese Falco and his fiancée.

  Falcon turned the brass doorknob, but the door was locked. The music stopped.

  “Angel, we have to talk.”

  “Go away.”

  The Brandenburg Concerto started anew.

  He let go of the doorknob and walked down the hall to his room.

  * * * *

  There was nothing like a good meal to put you to sleep.

  Cook made one of the first dishes Falcon had learned to bake, his dad’s Three Cheese Lasagna. Even without the special spices that his mother reminded him he couldn’t divulge without being disowned, Cook had done an excellent job.

  Later, a home video of a baby doll Angel riding the Falcon near
the pyramids of Giza could only have been Amelie’s touch. It mellowed everyone, even bringing a smile to Angel’s face.

  Falcon didn’t know why he couldn’t sleep that night. Especially since he hadn’t slept much the last couple of weeks on the il Dragone tour.

  It must have something to do with the Angel Thing, or the Tara Thing, or the Vault Thing.

  Then again, it could have something to do with a busy night for Miles and Tara. With everyone else off to bed, their private party moved from the poolroom to Haddon Hall, and finally to Miles’s balcony, which wasn’t far from Falcon’s.

  Falcon had returned to his bedroom, where Tara’s hearty laughter turned into the ever-escalating ‘Oh, Miles … Miles … Miles!’

  He had decided to close his eyes. But sleep was another … thing.

  The lights were off in his room, it shouldn’t be this bright.

  Falcon sat up.

  Sunday morning. Looking at the antique clock on the mantle, he sighed. Jet-lagged due to the red-eye-guilty-conscience flight from Italy to England, worn-out from everything that had happened once he’d arrived, everything that hadn’t happened between him and Angel, and now he’d missed the last peaceful breakfast this week had to offer before he was talking to people he didn’t remember about things he didn’t remember.

  He showered and dressed quickly. In the sitting room, he grabbed two scones from the tea tray Cook had left on a table and ate them on the way to Angel’s room.

  She was already playing the Stradivarius. He wanted to go in to her, but he’d wait until she was finished with her morning routine. She’d be in a better mood after that. Right now, there was something he needed to do.

  Falcon went down the hall and through a velvet-shrouded gallery to Miles’s room. There was no answer when he knocked. As promised, Miles had taken the party somewhere else this morning.

  He found Tara’s suitcase in Miles’s closet and dragged it out. There were no hidden compartments, and a search yielded nothing more than costumes, expensive clothes that were sizes too small for her voluptuous figure.

  She had a Tara Crawford driver’s license and matching credit cards, even pictures of ‘family’ to reinforce her game.

  But who is she, really?

  Falcon went into the bathroom. There, on the dark marble countertop was a travel case. He rifled through makeup and perfume bottles until his hand touched a pair of gold loop earrings, and a ruby-eyed dragon.