A Man to Trust

by Cheryl Yeko

  Feeling like he’d just kicked a puppy, he tried to reassure her. “Thanks, Shelly, that’s great.” He gave her the warmest smile he could manage given his dark mood and grabbed the folder on his way out the door.

  Angela was seated at the conference room table when he stepped into the room. She stood with an easy grace and lifted her gaze to him, a frown marring her delicate brow. His body tightened at the impact of her beauty, just as it had the first time he’d met her.

  She was tall, slender, and graceful, with full rosy lips that begged to be kissed. Her silky hair, the color of midnight on a starless night, fell past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Flirty bangs set off beautiful emerald eyes shaded by thick, wavy lashes.

  His gaze followed the soft lines of her neck to where a gold heart pendant sparkled with the light against creamy, ivory skin. A white peasant top flowed over her firm, rounded breasts and narrow waist like icing on a cake.

  Her skirt skimmed over slim hips and shapely thighs, stopping just above a pair of stiletto pumps with rhinestone buckles with sassy straps that curved around her slender ankles.

  Her outfit, by most standards, would be considered feminine and demure, if not for those sexy ‘fuck-me’ shoes she wore. His mouth went dry and he slowly glanced back up her knock-your-socks-off body to meet brilliant green eyes that snapped with irritation.

  Jake let out a slow breath and fought for control. She was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he had to remind himself that she was more than likely a criminal. At the very least, he suspected she had been aware of her husband’s illegal activities. That thought enabled him to clear the sexual haze that blinded him as his distrust of her resurfaced.

  “Ms. Beebe, thank you for coming.” He waved his hand toward the chair she had just vacated. “Please, have a seat.”

  She stood fidgeting with the chain around her neck for a long moment, studying him, before finally taking a seat again. The determined tilt of her chin gave him notice to tread with caution.

  He struggled not to stare at her shapely ankles showcased by those damn shoes as she crossed her long, sleek, legs. But, of course, he did.

  Damn. He hadn’t noticed a woman since his wife’s death four years earlier. It really pissed him off that this particular woman reminded him that he had needs . . . needs that he’d been able to put aside to concentrate on the job and raising his son. He set his jaw and took a seat across from her.

  “Why am I here?” she asked. Although her relaxed posture gave the appearance of confidence, her voice shook.

  “I just want to go over your testimony. To make sure we haven’t missed anything.” Something deep inside him rose up toward her, something that felt a lot like protective instincts. Jake gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He needed to see if her testimony remained the same.

  “You have my statement.” She placed her hands palm down on the table in front of her. “There’s nothing more to say.” She glanced at her hands and clasped them together. Her eyes darted to his and then quickly away.

  Jake’s gut waved a red flag.

  She’s hiding something.

  His eyes narrowed.

  She lifted her gaze to his again, her beautiful eyes held a defiant gleam.

  He leaned across the table until he could see the light jade color that swirled through her gorgeous green eyes. “Have you told us everything, Angela?”

  She tensed, her full sensual lips drawing into a thin line. “Of course. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “You realize that even though you’ve been granted immunity for your testimony, if you lie under oath you will be prosecuted.” His voice was hard.

  “I’m not stupid, detective,” she snapped.

  “You were married to Scott Beebe for two years?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Jake flipped open the police report. “It says here, you dated your husband for six months prior to your marriage?” He watched her closely for any telltale signs that she was lying.

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  “And in all that time you never saw any illegal activities?”

  “No.” She shifted nervously in her chair, then stilled.

  His jaw clenched. He hated liars. “But, you suspected something?”

  “Yes. As I said previously, I suspected Scott was involved in something illegal. But I never knew what.”

  Jake paused, glancing at her earlier testimony. What was he missing? He needed to take a different tactic. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed his tense posture.

  “Angela, tell me about Scott.” He kept his tone neutral.

  She froze. A look of uncertainty raced across her beautiful face. She inhaled deeply through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth, meeting his gaze. Her eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. Anger? Shame? Guilt, maybe?

  “What do you want to know?” She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, sweeping it around to the other side, until it lay straight down the front of her right shoulder.

  “Did you love your husband?” There was something about her that struck him as being off whenever she spoke of Scott. It was just a gut feeling, but his gut was right more than it was wrong.

  She licked her lips, leaving them shiny with moisture. Jake forced his eyes away from her lovely mouth, refocusing on her face, trying to read her reaction. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

  Interesting.

  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  Jake shrugged. “Just curious.”

  Despite her defiant posture, she radiated femininity and fragility and he wanted to believe in her innocence. He glanced at the report in his hand. He had a job to do and he couldn’t let a pretty face distract him.

  “It states here that other than Daniel Collins, you didn’t know the names of any of his business associates. Is that true?”

  She licked her lips again and his blood thickened with desire.

  Damn. Rick would kick his ass if he found him lusting over a suspect.

  “That’s correct.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about your husband?”

  She paled and averted her gaze. “No.”

  Her voice shook. She was either a liar or nervous. If she was lying, he had to prove it. If she was nervous, he needed to know why.

  “Nothing else? Scott never mentioned anything about his business?”

  “No. He always told me his business was sensitive and he couldn’t discuss it.”

  Jake arched a brow. “Vacuums are sensitive?”

  Her eyes flashed and her lips tightened, but she said nothing.

  “Did you meet any of your husband’s business partners?”

  She twisted the chain of the pendant around her finger. “Yes. I told you that. But I never knew their names.”

  Jake leaned forward again. “I think you’re lying, Angela.”

  A look of irritation crossed her face. “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” He leaned in until his face was mere inches from hers. Perspiration dampened her forehead, the scent of her heated skin hinted at vanilla and lavender. “I don’t think so. What are you hiding?”

  Her eyes grew wide and she jumped to her feet and glared at him. “Nothing.” She glanced to the door, like she was ready to flee.

  Jake tensed. He didn’t want to spook her. “Okay,” he said in a soothing tone. “Why don’t you sit back down and we can continue.”

  She shot him a nervous look and took a step toward the door. “Am I under arrest?”

  Jake stood slowly and gentled his voice. “No. You’re here voluntarily. But I’d appreciate it if you’d stay.”

  “But I’m free to go?” Never taking her eyes from him, she placed her hand on the doorknob.

  “Yes.” Jake didn’t like where the conversation was going. He couldn’t force her to stay, but he still had a lot of questions.

  For a brief moment, her eyes filled with
such haunting sadness that he found himself wanting to comfort her. Then she opened the door and walked out.

  Damn. He jumped back to follow her and stumbled over his chair, shoving it out of his way as he went after her. She was near the front exit by the time he reached her. Jake moved in front of her, blocking her path. “Hey, hang on, we’re not done yet.”

  She glared at him, her eyes icy. All traces of fear and sadness gone. He must have imagined it. She raised a brow that said back off.

  “What?” she snapped.

  His jaw tightened and he lifted his hands up by his head in the surrender gesture. “I just want to talk. That’s all.” He didn’t know what he’d said to set her off, but his gut was telling him to find out.

  “I don’t have anything more to say, Detective.” Her mouth pursed tightly.

  Jake fought the urge to smooth her lips with his thumb, then his mouth, until they softened with passion. “Listen, I’m just trying to make sure we have an airtight case before taking Slater to trial. You want your husband’s murderer punished, right?”

  She stilled, her eyes flashing with the same emotion he’d seen earlier. He hadn’t imagined it. Fear and sadness poured off her in waves and he struggled with the urge to take her in his arms and hold her until that haunting look disappeared.

  She took a small step back and their gazes locked for a long moment, before she turned on her heels and darted out the door.

  Jake let out a tirade of curse words, causing an older woman to scowl at him as she walked past. He shot her an apologetic look before he ran outside. Angela neared the street.

  “Angela,” he called to her, then scowled. He was just doing his job. So why did he feel guilty for coming on strong? She was the one hiding something.

  She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her wounded expression ratcheted his guilt tenfold, and he stopped as if he’d hit a brick wall. For a split second, they stood silently, their gazes locked. Until the sound of squealing tires pierced the air and a car careened toward her.

  Jake took off in a run. “Look out!” But he knew he was already too late. Adrenaline tore through him.

  Her eyes grew wide and she turned her head toward the car and took a quick step back.

  He watched with mounting fury as the car clipped her, knocking her to the ground, before continuing down the street and out of sight. His gut twisted into a tight knot at the sight of her sprawled on the sidewalk. She was unconscious when he reached her.

  Jake knelt next to her and felt for a pulse, relieved when he found one. He took his cell from his pocket to call 911 as a crowd began to gather.

  He noted the tire tracks that shone on the damp pavement. Straight head, then veering sharply from the road onto the sidewalk with no sign of breaking. He glanced back at Angela, filled with a determination to keep her safe. The sirens grew louder.

  At the moment it didn’t matter if she was guilty or innocent. She was a woman in need of protection.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Angela, can you hear me?”

  The strong odor of disinfectant tickled Angela’s nose as a sense of foreboding washed over her. She opened her eyes and squinted against the glare of bright, overhead lights. A tall, gray-haired man loomed over her, and her heart raced. Until his lips turned up into a smile. His kind face reminding her of a basset hound when it creased into a multitude of wrinkles.

  Her tension eased and she smiled weakly.

  “What happened?” Her voice whispery soft. She wasn’t certain he’d heard her. She swallowed, trying to wet her throat and ease the dryness.

  A wall of brilliant white curtains encircled her. The place bustled with activity and a rhythmic beeping came from a monitor next to her bed. A hospital? Why was she in a hospital? When she tried to sit, pain shot through her body. She groaned, and collapsed against the mattress.

  “Angela. I’m Dr. Anderson.”

  She cleared her throat. “What happened?” Her voice cracked.

  “You were struck by a car. You’re in the emergency room.” The doctor shined a penlight in both her eyes and stepped back. “You’ll be fine.” He smiled. “Just a few bumps and bruises.”

  “A car.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “A car hit me?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Anderson replied, turning to his chart to write something down.

  She took a shaky breath and peered over the doctor’s shoulders.

  A young nurse with red hair stood directly behind him near a monitor. She glanced past the nurse and met a pair of warm hazel eyes. They were such a beautiful mixture of browns and grays that she sighed and relaxed into them. Until it registered in her muddled mind that they belonged to him. The arrogant detective who thought she was a liar and a criminal. She tensed and glanced away.

  “What is he doing here?” Her breath quickened, coming in short little gasps.

  “Detective Bauman followed the ambulance in.” Dr. Anderson placed two fingers over the pulse at her wrist with a look of concern. “There’s no reason for worry. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I don’t remember the accident.” The last thing she remembered was running out of the police station when he’d started to question her about Scott’s business.

  “That’s to be expected after a traumatic injury. It’s nothing to worry about,” Dr. Anderson assured her.

  She closed her eyes and took herself to a happy place, forcing her mind and body to relax, something she’d mastered during the painful years of her marriage. She imagined herself somewhere far away, away from the stress of the upcoming trial, away from the hospital, away from him . . . Detective Bauman and his suspicions.

  She was on a beach, with the feel of sand between her toes as she strolled along the water’s edge. A cool breeze whipped her hair around her face and a long sundress wrapped around her legs as the summer sun warmed her. Her racing heart slowed and her tension eased.

  The doctor’s voice brought her back. “Angela, are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes and looked back to where Detective Bauman stood, watching her with furrowed brows. How could someone so good looking be such an ass?

  His light brown hair was mussed and in need of a cut, its thick waves curled at the base of his neck, giving him a sexy, unkempt look. Tall and lean, he’d towered over her by a good four inches, which put him well over six-foot. His nose was perfectly placed on a charmingly boyish face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw clenched tight. A muscle pulsed along the side betraying his tension. Lips full and sensual . . . kissable. He was all male, and oozed strength and command without even moving a muscle. Testosterone rolled off him in strong masculine waves and filled the space between them.

  She met his penetrating stare and swallowed. It was his eyes that got to her the most. They studied her with an intensity that frightened her on many levels. Eyes that wanted to know her innermost secrets and compelled her to share everything she was. She just wanted to turn and run from his knowing gaze, afraid of what he might see.

  Angela turned her head and fought the tears that threatened. She grimaced when one escaped down her cheek.

  “Angela, are you in pain?” Dr. Anderson asked.

  She sighed and turned back to him. “No. I’m just tired. When can I go home?”

  “Not tonight, I’m afraid. Your ribs are bruised and I want you monitored for the next twenty-four hours just to be sure there’s no internal bleeding.” He tapped the edge of the chart. “You also have a sprained wrist that needs to be wrapped. After that, we’ll be moving you to a private room. You should be able to go home in the morning. Is there someone we can call?”

  “No. There’s no one.” Her voice sounded strange and her mind began to cloud. Her body relaxed and her eyelids grew heavy. She stared at the IV attached to her hand through drooping lids. They must have given her something. She struggled to stay alert.

  “I’ll take her home,” a deep voice drawled.

  Even as sleep invaded her mind, she stiffened in protes
t at the sound of his voice. The ass. She managed to drag her sleepy gaze to him. Why would he offer to take her home? He didn’t even like her and she didn’t like him. She didn’t.

  He pierced her with stormy eyes, tension radiating off him. She struggled to stay awake and watched in fascination as the muscle pulsed at his sexy jaw. Her stomach fluttered with feminine awareness of his virility. She peered at him in confusion. She tried to open her mouth to object, but couldn’t move her lips and closed her eyes to surrender herself to the sandman.

  Jake turned to Doctor Anderson. Ray Anderson was well known and respected throughout the police force. He’d worked closely with the department for years on sensitive medical cases, both with victims and personnel alike. “How is she really, Ray?”

  “She’s fine, just as I said. We gave her a light sedative and she’ll sleep for a few hours. She’ll be moved soon to a room on the fifth floor.”

  Jake nodded. His cell phone vibrated at his hip and he glanced at the Ray. “Is it okay to take a call in here?”

  “Sure.”

  Noting the number on the LTD display, he answered. “Hey, Rick, come up with anything?”

  “No, ‘fraid not. The partial plate you got wasn’t enough to track down the vehicle and none of the witnesses offered anything useful.”

  “Damn.”

  “How is she doing?”

  “She’s okay. Alive. I plan to make sure she stays that way.”

  Jake cast a glance to where she lay sleeping. Her hair framed her face and fell across her shoulders like a blanket. The contrast between her sweet porcelain features and dark midnight hair was striking. She appeared to be as innocent and pure as Snow White. But, she wasn’t innocent or pure, and most likely a drug dealer. He needed to get that through his thick skull, as well as other parts of his anatomy. His only concern was to keep her safe so she could testify.

  Jake frowned. “The real question is who wants her dead?”

  “That’s the multi-million dollar question, isn’t it? Maybe you’re right and she’s hiding something. And they want her silenced.”