"Hello," she grumbled, her voice rough and her mouth too dry. Her heart still pounded in her chest, with her dream still fresh in her mind.
"Where did you go last night?" Mario asked.
Angela went blank as she fought to remember what excuse she'd planned on giving Mario when she talked to him next. She'd prepared a script in her head she would play out in order to convince Mario she had seen nothing other than a fight between him and his hired help, which had upset her terribly. The trauma from her dream prevented her from remembering the convincing words she'd planned to use on Mario.
"What time is it?" she asked, instead of answering him, and headed to the bathroom.
"It's early." Mario didn't sound upset. He didn't sound anything, which caused the knot in her gut to grow. "We need to talk."
"Okay." After she drank about a pot of coffee. She stared at her tangled hair and the extra-large T-shirt that hung crookedly on her. "I need time to wake up, Mario. I didn't sleep well."
"Because of me." He wasn't apologizing for upsetting her, was he?
It hadn't crossed Angela's mind that Mario might try to convince her no one was killed last night. That thought didn't wake her up completely, but it definitely zapped her brain, giving her somewhat of a kick start.
She rubbed her face with her palm and sighed. Some of the lines she planned on using on him came to her as she stood barefoot on the cold bathroom tile. "Not completely," she said, taking her time answering. It would make her sound more sincere. "I know we both agreed we were in this for fun and the adventure," she began, pausing and listening to the silence on the other end of the line.
Mario's willingness to hear her out could mean a couple things. Maybe he was waiting to hear if she would comment on his murdering a man in cold blood. Or, if Mario believed he'd found her picture on the Internet, he'd hear whatever she planned on saying to him, then calculate how to use it against her, which he'd do in person. His MO didn't suggest he'd make idle threats. When Mario struck, it was with venom meant to kill.
"And you've been nothing but honest with me since we first met," she added, leaning against the counter and staring at her bloodshot eyes. She couldn't remember what time it had been when Jake had left or even crashing. "I know you have to be ruthless sometimes in order to control the business you run," she finished, deciding leaving it vague over the phone and keeping the conversation open would make it easier to pick up where she left off once her brain was awake.
"I'm coming to you. Be ready. We'll discuss this more in person." There was no emotion in his voice. His baritone was dark and sounded ruthless.
"I need a shower and time to get ready. Give me an hour."
Although she was grateful that he agreed, forty-five minutes later she still didn't feel ready to take him on. Her dreams had taunted her until she woke up again. After showering, dressing, and downing her second cup of hotel room coffee, which was mediocre at best, she still didn't feel coherent.
Staring at her destroyed bed, she thought it looked as if she'd had wild sex in it the night before. Images of Jake filled her mind along with memories of him getting her off with his fingers while he held her in his arms.
"Jake," she whispered, her voice still scratchy. It was barely eight in the morning, but she needed to let him know she was heading out. She'd demanded he find her father. It wouldn't surprise her if Jake were already hot on her father's trail. Suddenly she was frantic to talk to him. Bounty hunting was illegal in Illinois. Granted, he wasn't going after anyone for a bounty, but Angela knew there were cops in Chicago with serious attitudes.
Angela admitted she no longer wished to work this case alone as she listened to Jake's phone ring. It wasn't because she was suddenly scared of Mario after seeing him kill a man in cold blood, with his bare hands. Mario was capable of stealing people from their lives, drugging them, and making them kill and possibly get killed, all so he could win a damned game. Angela had known how dangerous this case would be before now.
Jake was an asset now that danger closed in around her, but she enjoyed going over the evidence with him. He brought good insight to the table. The way his expression had been pinched with excitement when he told her he'd overheard a conversation the night before, while she'd been in her bath, had almost turned her insides to jelly. He'd seemed larger-than-life as he'd brainstormed what bugged him about her father's phone call, his deep green eyes as vibrant as they'd been when he'd gotten her off on her bed.
Angela had come damn close to unloading her fears about Marianna on Jake. She was guilt-ridden over her half-sister and, so far, had kept all of her worries to herself. Jake had seen how emotional Angela was last night and had almost pulled her into his arms. If she had let him wrap those strong arms around her, Angela would have lost it. She didn't doubt for a moment he would have consoled her. It would have been so nice to unload on him. Angela imagined where opening up to him would have led, and not because Jake was such a playboy. More than likely she would have instigated sex, then she'd be even more guilt-ridden today. Or would she have felt better?
She shivered. There wasn't time to dwell on Jake's skills in bed. Although when there was time she definitely planned on learning what else he was good at doing.
"Good morning, darling," Jake answered after the fifth or sixth ring. His deep, raspy voice crawled into her system like a warm blanket, making her instantly hot and swollen and wanting him now. "It's early. Everything okay?"
"Are you awake?" she asked, surprised he was still asleep. Maybe he hadn't slept well either.
"Part of me is wide awake."
She heard the smile in his voice, and her body reacted even as she fought not to grin at his implication. The swelling between her legs started throbbing. What if she left her room and traipsed down to Jake's room? He wouldn't kick her out of his bed. And Mario would still be around, still angry and threatening, once she and Jake were done. It would be so much nicer starting her day by giving in to her needs and enjoying hot, wild sex.
"Mario is going to be here in a few minutes to pick me up," she said instead of giving Jake any indication that his subtle comment had affected her at all.
"Where are you going?" His lazy drawl was gone. Jake was all business.
She pictured him sitting on the side of his bed, probably naked, his hair tousled and a thick shadow across his jaw. The image made her weak in the knees as desire spread throughout her. Suddenly it wasn't cold in her room anymore. A fire had ignited inside her after just a few seconds of talking to Jake on the phone. Her needs went beyond physical. It wasn't rocket science figuring that out. She ached to discuss Mario's call with Jake, as brief as it had been. There were often clues hidden under everyone's nose that were easier pulled out when time was taken to analyze every aspect of a situation or conversation. Angela was falling for Jake's mind as well as his body.
"I'm not sure. He didn't say. But we're going to talk about last night. He brought it up already on the phone, and when I told him I didn't sleep well last night he suggested it was because of him."
"If you need me for any reason, send me a text. It doesn't have to say anything. Text one letter or one number, anything. I'll know that means you're in trouble and I'll be by your side in the next minute."
Angela knew he wasn't exaggerating, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask where he would be while she was with Mario. She jumped, her heart lodging in her throat, when there was a firm knock on her door.
"Someone is at the door," she whispered, suddenly annoyed that Mario hadn't given her time to enjoy her fantasy of seducing Jake. Not that she would have played it out, but it was a hell of a lot better thinking about making love to Jake than it was playing mind games with Mario.
"Be careful. I'll be close, very close," Jake told her, his tone deepening with his promise.
"Don't let him know you're near," she said, focusing on her door. There was a click in her ear. Jake had hung up on her. Angela pulled her phone away from her ear, staring at it for only a
second before hurrying to put it in her purse. If she'd hurt Jake's feelings he would get over it or discuss it with her later. Right now, she had work to do.
She really hoped he wasn't mad at her, though. Damn it. There wasn't time to fall for the damn brute when her head needed to be incredibly clear to remain a step ahead of Mario. The first place she and Mario were going would be to get more coffee, good, strong coffee.
Angela was almost to the door when she did an about-face and studied her suite. All of her spy equipment was put away. The place wasn't spotless but didn't look as if she was trying to catch a criminal, either. Her heart was beating too fast in her chest, and she felt jittery. But something told her not to leave anything that could possibly incriminate her anywhere, even after she left. She'd hidden her surveillance equipment behind her suitcase in her closet the night before. The hotel room was wired to capture anything that was said in here on tape. But if someone broke in here while she was gone and found her equipment, it wouldn't matter whether a conversation was recorded or not. There was another solid knock when Angela dove to her closet floor, yanked out her suitcase, pulled out her clothes, and brought up the false bottom. She almost hurled her equipment into its hiding place, her hands shaking, then closed the false bottom and tossed her clothes back inside the suitcase.
"Crap!" Angela almost tripped when she spun around again, yanked her purse open, pulled out her phone, and switched it to Silent. The last thing she wanted was to miss a call from her father. But like him, she knew phone calls couldn't interfere with her investigation. "And neither can your frazzled brain."
Straightening, she ran her hands down the snug-fitting sundress she'd chosen for the day. There was a third knock, this one a bit louder and more persistent, but Angela paused in front of her full-length mirror, taking in her appearance.
She hadn't washed her hair this morning but instead wrapped it in a bun while showering. Nonetheless, it was damp and frizzy. But it hung straight and was tangle free. No one had ever convinced her she looked better with her thick mane falling almost to her rear. Angela much preferred it up. Wearing it down made her look relaxed, more carefree. Right now, she definitely needed all the help she could get pulling that look off. She did a final twist, ran her hands over her rear, and made sure her dress was straight. It was a bright pink sleeveless dress with a high collar, tapered at the waist to show off her figure, and ended just above the knees. If only she felt as sharp as she looked.
"Fake it, baby," she instructed herself, holding her head high and exhaling slowly as she took her time walking to the door.
Angela unlocked the door and opened it, taking a step backward, and started to point over her shoulder. "Just let me get my--," she began, expecting Tomas to be standing in the hall.
"Did I not give you enough time to get ready?" Mario stepped toward her, his dark eyes pinning her with a hard, condemning stare. He didn't like being left to wait in the hallway.
"Mario." She almost smiled and caught herself. It was time to put on the performance of her lifetime. If Mario didn't believe 100 percent that she thought she had witnessed a fight and not a murder, her entire investigation, all the work she'd done over the past year, would go up in smoke. Angela relaxed her expression, not moving but tilting her head when he stepped into her space. "I expected Tomas and was struggling with my zipper," she lied, holding Mario's gaze.
"This morning will just be you and me." Mario moved in on her, touching her shoulder, then guiding her back into her suite.
Or he would have if Angela didn't step to the side, gripping the cold doorknob, although the metal warmed quickly in her damp palm. She was far from cold, but the heat that surged through her while talking to Jake was far from the same sensation she experienced now as her flesh burned where Mario had touched her. She felt repulsed, disgusted, and fought the urge to step out from under his touch.
Angela found herself against the wall, still holding the door, when Mario let go of her and sauntered into her room. He wore khaki pants and an expensive-looking button-down shirt. His black hair curled at his collar and the casual loafers he wore aided in his footsteps being silent as he continued moving through her suite until he stood next to her table, where the night before she and Jake had sat and listened in on Mario's conversation with his henchman.
"You're upset." Mario turned to face her. "Close the door, Angela. We're going to talk. I much prefer your beautiful smile over this frown I see right now."
If they stayed here, she wouldn't get her coffee. It would seriously suck, remembering every line she'd rehearsed in the shower, if her brain sunk back into its fog.
Angela let the door close but remained in front of it, clasping her hands in front of her while once again trying for a calm, relaxed expression. She hadn't realized she'd been frowning. "I'm not sure staying here is a good idea. I'm not properly prepared to entertain, Mario," she offered, and gestured with a wave of her hand as if one look at her suite would explain to him what she meant. "And I intended for you and me to go to coffee. You didn't give me time for room service, and the coffee in the room is mediocre at best." She wrinkled her nose, making a face she would despise on another woman, as if any problem were someone else's job to fix.
"Mi amore, you are quite spoiled," he said, his tone a deadly purr. Mario walked to her windows, pulled the cord, and made the curtains flutter open. "Look at this view. I find this rather to my liking." He shifted his attention to her bed and moved farther into her suite. "I'm glad you told me you didn't sleep well last night."
"What?" She was forced to follow him or she'd lose sight of him. His eyes were so dark they looked black, and his face was twisted in a rather demonic glare. But he was purring almost affectionately when he spoke to her. His tone contradicted his appearance.
"If you hadn't, I might be jealous, thinking you didn't sleep alone. Your bed is rather torn up."
If he expected her to apologize for the condition of her room when she hadn't thought they would stay here, he would be disappointed. "I'll call Housekeeping." Knowing someone would be interrupting them soon sounded like a solid plan. She grabbed the phone before Mario could say anything, pushed the button, and gripped it to her ear, keeping her back to him as it buzzed in her ear. "Yes, room twelve-twelve. I'm entertaining this morning and need Housekeeping here immediately to clean the room." Her spoiled tone was enough to make her puke and didn't impress the woman on the other end of the line, either. But the woman told Angela she'd have someone there soon and hung up.
"That wasn't necessary, mi amore," Mario grumbled, his voice even more threatening with his soft, slow drawl. "Unless for some reason you're suddenly nervous to be alone with me."
That was her cue and she'd rehearsed the tar out of this moment in her head ever since leaving his house the night before. Angela spun around, her jaw dropping, then closed it slowly as she started toward him.
"Do you think I'm some stupid hypocrite?" she asked, keeping her voice as soft as his had been. "I told you I understand what you do and am cool with it." As quickly as she'd sounded accusatory, she changed her expression, shifted her weight to her other foot, and waved her hand at him dismissively. "My father has had to make an example to his employees before. You aren't that different, you know."
Mario found the glass doors that separated the bedroom area from the living room and gestured for her to enter her bedroom. Since this also shut them off from the closet where her suitcase was, Angela obediently left the phone by her round table and joined him, not saying a word when he closed the doors, closing them in the master bedroom.
He didn't say a word as he made himself comfortable on the love seat in the corner of the bedroom, then pulled out his phone. "Tomas will bring us coffee. Sit," he ordered, patting the space next to him.
She didn't know his game but reassured herself that he didn't know her game, either. She moved across her room, still barefoot but knowing the dress she wore would appeal to Mario. One glance at his face and she knew he was payi
ng attention to how her outfit hugged all of her curves. She didn't have to sleep with the enemy to use sexuality against him.
"There is a Starbucks across the street," she offered, sitting on the couch next to him and twisting to face him, with her back in the corner at her end.
Mario nodded, gave Tomas instructions, and clasped his phone shut. He placed it on the coffee table, then rested his hand on her knee. If either of them looked straight ahead and not at each other, they would be able to stare at her destroyed bed, the bed where Jake had made her come harder than she had in her entire life. It hit her Mario probably chose this location with that view intentionally, believing if she had slept with someone else, it would rattle her and expose her guilt if made to sit facing the scene of the crime,
"Did you resolve the problem with your hired help last night?" she asked before Mario could say whatever he was about to say. She needed to lead this conversation. "I'm sorry I ran out on you, but men fighting have always upset me. I've always hated it," she added, wrinkling her nose again in a look she had discovered Mario interpreted as indicating her being spoiled.
This time he didn't comment on her being spoiled. He was probing, studying her, and making no qualms about the fact that he was doing so. If she remained steady under his gaze, he might grow even more suspicious and start believing she was raised around interrogations and not businessmen making deals with their fists.
She sighed loudly when he remained quiet after a moment. "I just said I was sorry I ran out," she whined, feeling like an idiot and sounding like a child. All part of the job, she told herself. "Maybe next time when your men are out of line and bugging you, take them away from me and then make them obey you." She puffed out her lower lip, tilted her head slightly, and stared him in the eye.
Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry Page 21