Outspoken Angel

by Mia Dymond

  * * *

  From deep within the shadows of the scorching Arizona sun, he watched Cameron lead the bald guy around by the balls. He laughed evilly. A bodyguard was no match for him, especially that one. He knew all the secrets and security techniques the bodyguard would use to protect her. Getting to her would be easy. Much easier than he originally thought.

  * * *

  “Hawke!”

  Hawke rounded the corner of the living room just in time to see Rachel rush through the front door and pause only when the sirens wailed from her intrusion.

  He grinned and tapped the security code into the pad by the door. “Rachel, honey, you’re supposed to enter the code before you come through the door.”

  “I know,” she said breathlessly as the sirens quieted, “but I have something to tell you.”

  He took her hand, led her to the den, pushed her down on the couch, and propped her swollen feet on the coffee table.

  “What’s got you so excited?” He planted a kiss on her forehead and sat beside her.

  “We called Max about the pictures Cameron received, just like you suggested.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I don’t know.” A satisfied grin separated her lips. “I left before I burnt up.”

  He tilted his brow in confusion.

  “Max and Cameron!” she shrieked. “The electricity is unbelievable.”

  “Max?”

  Several pieces of her auburn hair fell from her barrette as she bobbed her head.

  As he sat mulling the possibility of Max’s insanity, the phone interrupted any chance of explanation.

  “Hello?” Rachel sang into the receiver.

  He frowned when nothing else was said and she hung up.

  “Who was it?”

  “No one was there.” She shrugged. “Anyway, the two of them are fighting some strong, primal urges.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she insisted, only to be interrupted by the telephone again.

  “Hello?”

  Again, she hung up without another word.

  “No one was there?” he asked.

  “Probably just a wrong number.”

  “Rachel, our number is unlisted.”

  “People push wrong buttons all the time.” She rolled her eyes at his wariness. “Besides, twenty percent of all phone calls are hang ups.” She took a breath. “Anyway, you’ve got to see Max and Cameron in action.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Squeezed into Cameron’s sports car, Max rode with his stomach muscles clenched tight as she wheeled her silver speeding bullet down the expressway and into the parking lot of the mall.

  He released his breath when she finally shifted into park. “Sit.”

  Peeling himself off the seat, he walked around the car, opened her door, and extended a hand.

  “Here’s the deal, Princess,” he said, lifting her from her seat, “you stick close, remember?”

  “This really is ridiculous. He’s just trying to intimidate me.”

  “I mean it,” he reiterated, “one false move and your delectable little ass will be sitting back in that seat.”

  She bumped the car door closed with a swing of her hip. “You like my ass, Maxie?”

  Oh, hell yes. “No comment.”

  “Coward.”

  He exhaled a frustrated growl as she pulled him inside the mall and led him to the men’s section of the closest department store.

  “Good grief,” she fussed, “it’s just a little shopping!”

  Max cringed as he assessed the layout of the store. The place was a security nightmare. Displays of clothing blocked aisles and plastic mannequins lined the edges of each department, creating an almost inescapable maze. He cursed under his breath as he attempted to locate the security cameras or better yet, a security guard. He finally spotted one camera positioned over the service desk and two aimed at the checkout counters. He took a deep breath and armed himself for battle. He’d have to keep a close eye on her.

  Oblivious to the danger, Cameron babbled as she sorted through clothing and tossed selective items over one shoulder. Max leaned against the nearest rack and waited until she finished.

  “Here.” She pushed the pile of clothing into his bulky arms. ”Try these on.”

  “All of this?”

  “Yes, you need a major makeover.”

  “I don’t wear pink.” He tossed the offensively colored shirt back at her.

  “Pink is the new brown.”

  “No pink.”

  “Fine.” She led him to the dressing room. “There’s nothing wrong with the rest.”

  He motioned her through the doorway. “Lead the way.”

  “What?”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  She appeared ready to smack him. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then I’m not trying these on.”

  She lifted her chin and gave him a pointed look. “Max, I’ll be perfectly fine out here. It won’t take you long.”

  Max clenched his fists to restrain himself from throttling her. Knowing full well he could easily conquer her belligerence, he weighed the consequences carefully. A temper tantrum would draw attention, and even though her tantrums aroused him, they couldn’t afford to be in the spotlight. The place was packed with people. If she screamed, and she would scream, someone would notice.

  “Stay right here.”

  “Of course. You have to show me what they look like.”

  “They’re shirts.”

  “Yes, but I need to evaluate the color.”

  He shook his head and mumbled under his breath as he turned and crashed through the dressing room door.

  Cameron tapped her toe impatiently while she waited for Max to change. What was taking so long? Her eyes swept around the room casually until a large display of women’s shoes caught her attention, called her name, and begged her to come and browse. She glanced from the dressing room to the shoes and back again. Just a peek.

  Throwing one last look over her shoulder, she glided to the rack of shoes and fulfilled her need to investigate. So many to choose from and a great sale. She caressed a leather and snakeskin Prada pump, basking in her newfound happiness. Distracted by the enticing ankle strap, she jumped when a cold hand grasped the top of her shoulder.

  “Jeez, Max,” she began, intending to let him have it for scaring her.

  “Hello, Cameron.”

  Her heart pounded double time and she felt the blood drain from her face when she turned to find someone other than Max standing there.

  “Vince,” she whispered.

  “Let’s you and I take a walk.”

  She shook her head so hard her ears rang. “No.”

  “Come on, Baby,” he coaxed, “we need to catch up.”

  Cameron drug her eyes from his hand on her shoulder to meet his stone cold stare. His eyes perused her evilly, full of venom. Instinctively, she knew he would not turn her loose without a fight. So she did the one thing she did well.

  Scream. Hysterically.

  Obviously misjudging her reaction, he dropped his hand from her shoulder and ran through the store until he disappeared out the door.

  Cameron’s piercing scream caught Max’s attention as he yanked another shirt off over his head. Sonuvabitch. Bursting through the dressing room doors, he sprinted across the men’s department toward the sound of her voice. She met him halfway and flung herself against him. Desire consumed him as her eyelashes tickled his bare chest like butterfly wings. Her shoulders shook as tears trailed down her cheeks and burnt his skin.

  His brow furrowed as she trembled. Tears? Hell.

  He didn’t count on that. He pressed her closer with a protective hand and stroked her back. “I’m here.”

  His body tightened as she snuggled into the depths of his arms. Once her trembling subsided, he reluctantly set her out of his embrace and rubbed the mascara from under her eyes with his thumbs, startled once again by a familiar
ringing noise. What the hell is that annoying sound? Chalking it up to the store elevators, he concentrated on Cameron.

  “Stone?” he asked, his body cursing the separation from hers.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, he just grabbed my arm.”

  He looked closer at her milky skin. The red marks he discovered made his blood boil.

  “Max, I’m fine. You’re naked.”

  He glanced at his bare chest then twisted his lips as he answered. “Only half.”

  “You’ve got an audience.” She tugged on his arm and attempted to pull him back to the privacy of the dressing room.

  He stood solid and ignored her struggle to move him. “I told you to stay put.”

  “I wanted to look at shoes.”

  “That was worth being hurt?”

  “They’re Prada, Max!” She rolled her eyes. “Your fashion sense really sucks.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to wrap his brain around her explanation. Prada. Damn.

  “Excuse me, Sir, is there a problem?”

  He opened his eyes and looked up to see a short, roly-poly man in a suit and tie standing in front of them. Glowering at the newcomer through his rage, he attempted to remain civil.

  “Hell yes, there’s a problem. A big problem. Someone just tried to kidnap her right here in your store! She stood here screaming and no one responded. Don’t you have a security guard?”

  Beads of perspiration shone on the portly man’s forehead as he took a few steps backward. Cameron placed a hand on Max’s forearm, then turned to address the suited gentleman.

  “Excuse his caveman attitude. Are you the manager?”

  ”Yes, I’m Bernard Kingsley, the store manager.”

  “Well, Mr. Kingsley, where is the security guard?”

  Mr. Kingsley loosened his tie. “He’s taking a break.”

  Max felt the veins on his forehead throb. “Oh, for the love of-“

  Cameron squeezed Max’s arm. ”Bernie,” she said sweetly, “you should probably call the police.”

  “The police are already on their way. One of the clerks called 911 when she heard the scream.”

  Calmed by her touch, Max took control. “Get the security guard in here, Kingsley. I need to see the surveillance tapes.”

  Max balled his fists and watched Kingsley hurry away.

  “Are you going to beat your chest too?” Cameron asked dryly.

  Max felt his anger begin to dissipate. Instead of falling apart, Cameron had held it together and now she wanted to play.

  “No.”

  “By the way, how come you had time to throw on your sunglasses but not your shirt?”

  A sly grin creased his lips. “I thought it might cheer you up.”

  Her response was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Kingsley, the store security guard and two uniformed policemen. After reviewing the security tapes and taking Cameron’s statement, the police left the store with Max’s cell phone number embedded in their brains.

  “Okay, Miss Priss.” Max exhaled in irritation. “We’re leaving.”

  “Not without your clothes,” she insisted, once again pulling him across the store.

  His lips formed a cynical smile as he followed behind her sexy ass. The woman had guts, that was clear. As much as Stone scared her, she was bound and determined he wouldn’t interrupt her life. Smart lady. And, as long as he had something to say about it, Stone wouldn’t get close enough to interfere. He’d just have to keep her on a short leash.

  Cameron pointed to the dressing room. “Hurry.”

  “You’re coming with me this time.”

  “Right behind you.”

  Pulling her inside the cubicle, he pushed her down on the bench and threw the lock.

  “Max,” she said weakly, “there are chairs outside.”

  “Don’t move.” He grabbed his shirt and poked both arms through the sleeves. Determined to hurry, his movement was stopped when he felt Cameron’s fingers trace the molded muscles of his chest.

  “I’m glad you were here today.”

  He swallowed, careful not to react. He felt himself stiffen, craving more of her touch. Looking deep into her sailboat blue eyes, he knew exactly what she wanted. And as bad as he wanted to comply, that was impossible. She was a mark. An insanely beautiful challenge.

  “Your chest fascinates me,” she whispered as she moved her hand down his stomach. “You’re so hard, Max.”

  He began to sweat. He was hard. Unbelievably hard. This cannot happen.

  He gently pushed her hand from his body, pulled the shirt over his chest and squatted down between her legs. “He scared you.”

  “Terribly.”

  “I won’t let it happen again.”

  “Max,” she whispered, urging him closer with her knees.

  Slowly she lowered her head and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He returned her kiss while his self-control teetered on the edge of snapping.

  “Thank you,” she said, running her hand across his head, “for being so lucky.”

  He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses and allowed himself a millisecond to enjoy the ecstasy of her touch. The savage beast inside him purred rhythmically and rolled to its back with all four paws in the air. Mentally leashing the subdued animal, he stood and separated their bodies.

  He opened the dressing room door. “I’ve had enough shopping for one day.”

  “Maybe so.” She grinned and scooped up the pile of clothing. “But we’re not leaving without these.”

  He followed her helplessly to the sales counter and slid a credit card to the clerk.

  Cameron pushed his card back to him. “Let me, it’s the least I can do.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  He gestured at the clothing. “If I let you buy these, the next thing I know you’ll be dragging me to the spa.”

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You might like the spa, Big Guy.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” He signed the sales slip, gathered the shopping bags and steered her out of the store by the elbow.

  Max made one last sweep of the parking lot as Cameron opened the trunk with her remote.

  “Where do you suppose he went?” she murmured, taking the bags from Max and stowing them in the trunk.

  He opened the driver’s door and shuffled her inside. “To hell if he’s smart,” he answered as he shut her door.

  * * *

  A satisfied chuckle left his throat as he watched Cameron fumble for her keys. She was such a ditz. Always was. Just the way he liked her, too stupid to question much. She really thought she was safe with the beefy, bald guy. He snickered at her ignorance. The man in black was obviously twice her age, and his size made him slow. The only thing those muscles were good for was show and tell.

  He eased himself out of the shadows, having gathered enough information to initiate his next move. He slipped behind the wheel of his truck, confident in his plan. As soon as he caught her, and he would catch her, life as she knew it would cease to exist.

  * * *

  A momentary feeling of relief nudged Max when the security light over Cameron’s front door blinked to life and she punched the remote to open the garage door. As soon as she parked inside, she turned off the car and lowered the heavy door.

  Max snapped his fingers. “Key.”

  “Don’t have one,” she retorted.

  “You don’t have a house key?”

  “No.”

  “You locked the door but you don’t have a key to unlock it.”

  “Yes.”

  He counted to ten while irritation overtook his earlier sense of relief. Another game.

  “How are we going to get in the house?”

  “Well, Einstein, we’re going to punch my code in the pad.” She gave him her trademark eye roll and then got out of the car.

  He watched her enter her security code then turn the doorknob to open the doo
r.

  “See? Magic.”

  He smirked as he climbed out of the car and followed her inside.

  “Call a locksmith, Houdini.” He shut the door behind him. “I’m locking the doors.”

  “Fine.” She tossed her purse on the kitchen counter. “Are you hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “Since we’re having a slumber party, how about pizza?” She smiled sweetly. “Sausage or pepperoni?”

  “Whatever you want,” he challenged.

  As soon as those words rolled off his tongue, he regretted even answering.

  “I know what I want.” She stepped closer to him. “Do you?”

  You. I want you.

  “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he warned.

  “I know several firemen, remember?”

  He snarled. “I remember. Are you going to order the pizza or not?”

  She giggled as she dialed the phone. “Okay, Max. You win. This time.”

  Listening to her order pizza only made matters worse. Her soft, sultry voice danced through the stillness of the room. He stood mesmerized, his eager libido gaining momentum. She had no idea how sensuous she sounded. He mentally kicked himself. She’s ordering pizza, not having phone sex.

  Relieved when she disconnected, he took her by the elbow and escorted her to the living room. “We need to get a couple of things straight.”

  She scowled and glanced at her elbow. “Like what?”

  “First, you’ve got to take this seriously.”

  “I am! I let you move in, didn’t I?”

  “That’s not all.”

  “I’m losing my appetite,” she grumbled.

  He ignored her false distress. “You have to listen to my advice.”

  “Your advice?”

  “Yes,” he said, his tone offering no argument.

  “You don’t offer advice, Max. You issue orders like a drill sergeant.”