"I don't want you to worry about any of this anymore," he said, his voice gentle.
"How could I not when you wouldn't let me back into your home last night?" She threw her hands up in the air and let them fall and slap her legs. It would be one hell of an acting job to pull off a temper tantrum, but if it would convince him her intelligence wrapped around social events and shopping she would damn well do it.
"I wasn't there, amore," he crooned. "My staff has already been instructed to allow you inside if I'm not there and make sure you are made comfortable until I return."
She seriously doubted any of that was true. "There is nothing worse than disobedient staff. I'm sure you have the matter under control, but if you don't, I can get you references to replace your house servants." She banked on him turning down her request, since she didn't have a clue where someone would hire maids and butlers.
"That won't be necessary." Mario placed his hand over both of her hands. His skin was cold and smooth, not warm and a bit rough like Jake's. "Like I said, this isn't something you will worry about. The matter is well under control."
"Good," she said, and moved her hands farther down her legs. He tightened his grip on her, but at least his hand wasn't so close to her crotch now.
"I have a question for you, and I'll know whether you answer truthfully or not."
"Sure." She shrugged with one shoulder as she studied his face. More than anything she wished the coffee or Housekeeping would arrive.
"Who is your father?" Mario asked.
"You know who my father is." She blurted out the line she had come up with if he asked her that question. "Are you doing business with him?" she asked, her eyes going wide as she leaned forward just a bit, as if excited to learn new gossip. Holding the pose for only a moment, she leaned back against the love seat and forced herself to look determined. "Nope. I don't care if you are," she announced. "I hate him. I told you that already."
"I'll get more to the point." He tightened his grip, pinching her fingers together and piercing her with a look that made her feel a twinge of nervousness for the first time since sitting with him. "Is your father a detective?"
Angela stared back at Mario, holding her facial expression as she stared blankly at him. No way would she let him catch her off guard. Men like Mario played on throwing out the unexpected, maneuvering their prey into a corner, and pouncing the moment their target's defenses were down. What they never seemed to take into consideration was that all criminals seemed to use the same tactics for intimidation. She'd rehearsed this conversation in her head several times before going live with Mario now. It was a plan of attack her father had taught her years ago. There was never a way of knowing exactly what a criminal would say, but with good forethought, several plausible comments or questions could be predicted. It was imperative to rehearse not only her responses but her body language during the conversation as well.
"Yes," she said, nodding once, having decided last night confirming her father was a detective would be the best way to maintain her cover. It would also be the last answer Mario would expect her to give, which helped her hold on to the lead. "But you know that already."
"I know that now," he said, not hesitating, although it seemed something shifted in his gaze. "Why is it something you kept from me?"
"I haven't kept that from you. His success makes him a hard secret to keep," she mumbled, sounding disgusted. "If I could keep the world from knowing I'm his daughter, I would do that." Angela laughed, watching Mario's expression change, the hard lines dissipating as he continued studying her. "Wait a minute," she continued, her nerves relaxing as her confidence built and she finished her lines. "Don't use me to get to him, please. He's such a worm." She turned her hands under Mario's, knowing this was where she needed to be a bit affectionate. Her stomach twisted when she squeezed his hand and his fingers quickly intertwined with hers. "I already know you're much more intelligent, quick on your toes. If my father is giving you grief, he doesn't stand a chance against you. You can handle him," she finished, whispering her last sentence as if she were seducing Mario. "He doesn't even handle his investments as well as you do."
He hadn't expected her response. And she'd known he wouldn't, which was why she'd decided it was the best angle to go with. Tomas couldn't show up with that coffee soon enough.
Mario laughed and for the first time his focus dropped to her breasts.
"I'm not concerned about what your father thinks of me," Mario said, sounding amused. He released her hands and began stroking her leg. "You, mi amore, are all I'm worried about."
"Mario, don't worry about me," she said. "I know how to take care of myself."
"I'm not so sure about that." His phone rang and he reached for it, answering it without saying a word. Then standing as he closed the phone, he opened the glass doors and disappeared toward the hotel door.
Angela followed him, closing the glass doors again, this time shutting them in the living room half of her suite. Mario let Tomas into her room and took a cardboard box with tall cups in it from Tomas. She hurried forward, grinning easily at Tomas, and slipped one of the cups out of Mario's hands.
"I'm leaving town and I've decided to take you with me," Mario announced. "I've researched your father and although I know you aren't a detective, and wouldn't possess any of those skills, someone like your father would keep a very close rein on those dear to him. You tell me you two aren't close, but that doesn't mean James Huxtable wouldn't have a vested interest in what his daughter does and who she associates with. When I travel, I would like you at my side. We will make good traveling companions, and knowing you're safe with me will resolve any issues that might arise otherwise."
* * *
Jake pulled into the driveway and stared at the stucco house. It was well kept, with a screened-in front porch and brick path that led from the curb to the porch stairs. Angela sat with her hands clutched together in her lap, staring out the window. She'd been quiet most of the way over here. Mandela's conversation had upset her, although she'd tried making light of it, even going as far as bragging up her acting skills when she told Jake how Mandela had looked stupefied when she had admitted her father was a detective. It had been a good move on her part but didn't buy them very much time. First, Mandela thought he was taking Angela out of town, which would happen when hell froze over. And second, which was equally as important, Mandela wouldn't leave Huxtable alone now. If anything, Mandela would track him down with more energy and motivation now, using him to keep Angela at his side and behaving how he wanted her to behave.
"Ever been here before?" Jake asked, studying her profile.
The moment she snapped out of her thoughts, she pursed her lips, then turned to meet his gaze. "Never. And he's going to hear about it, too." She shook her head, looking more disgusted than pleased.
A few of the bricks were loose in the path up to the house, and there was a really simple doorbell system in use. The moment Jake stepped onto the porch steps, several dogs started barking frantically inside.
"May I help you?" a woman asked when she opened the front door and stared at Jake, then Angela, through the dark screen door. The woman didn't give any indication she suspected who Angela was, which was interesting in itself.
"I have an appointment," he said, repeating the words Huxtable had instructed him to use when he'd arrived. Jake hadn't mentioned bringing Angela along, although Huxtable never asked whether she would be there or not.
The woman could have been somewhere between forty-five and fifty-five. Jake had never been really good at guessing an age with ladies, especially when they kept themselves in good shape, as this woman obviously did. There were silver streaks in her hair, which was straight and curled under at her neck. She wore a T-shirt and shorts, and when she used her leg to block the two dogs and open the screen he noticed not only that she was barefoot but also that, judging by her muscle tone, she probably did a lot of bike riding, jogging, or both.
"Umm, yes. Okay, come i
n," she said, sounding hesitant. The pensive looks she shot him and Angela were curious. If this were her home, Jake would think she'd be accustomed to people coming here with appointments, unless Huxtable had just set up shop with this woman. "The dogs are harmless," she offered, leading the way across the screened-in porch and into the house, leaving Jake and Angela to find that fact out for themselves.
The dogs quit barking without instruction when they followed the woman into a dark, small living room. Jake prayed she was right about her pets and focused his attention on her, instead of the two dogs.
"I'm Jake," he began.
Angela was doing an incredible job of remaining quiet, his requirement for her coming along, since he'd arranged to meet Huxtable without mentioning anything about Angela. She'd balked at first but finally promised she wouldn't say a word until they were alone with her father. The look on her face showed the torture she was enduring. Angela watched the woman like a hawk, barely aware of the dogs, and probably was biting her tongue to keep herself from lashing out with a hundred questions as to who this woman was and what she was doing in Angela's father's life.
"He's back here." The woman kept walking through the living room and disappeared down a hallway, gesturing for them to follow.
Jake and Angela competed with the two dogs for hallway space as they followed her.
"One moment," the woman said, holding her finger up at the two of them before disappearing into a room with its door open.
The dogs followed her, their long black tails still wagging, although they were quiet except for their nails clicking against the wooden floor. Angela crossed her arms, glaring after the woman, before turning to Jake and blessing him with the same disgusted look. Grinning at her would probably make it too hard to hold on to her silence. Jake didn't want Angela's presence made known until they were with Huxtable. The woman didn't act as if she knew who either of them were, which meant Huxtable hadn't told her. Jake would find the reasoning behind that soon enough, mainly because he had a feeling it would be the first thing Angela demanded to know.
There were pictures on the wall, and Jake squinted and stared at the printed and framed poses of the woman, who'd let them into her home, standing with a couple children at different ages. The same children were also in pictures by themselves, one of them, the girl, standing in front of this house wearing a graduation cap and gown.
"Do you mind giving us a few minutes alone?" It was James Huxtable asking the question, but his tone was so gentle and soft-spoken.
Jake snapped his attention away from the pictures, but Angela was already marching to the door. The woman blocked the doorway when she appeared, and for a moment she and Angela sized each other up. The woman didn't want them there. Jake didn't know what Huxtable had told her about him, but whatever it was, she didn't approve.
Jake placed his hands on Angela's shoulders, standing behind her and inching her back against him to allow the woman to leave the room and get around them with her dutiful dogs in tow.
"Thank you," he said politely, and the woman nodded.
"Come on in and close the door." Huxtable's demanding, cocky tone had returned. Maybe Angela did know a different man than Jake did. Apparently Huxtable saved his good side for the women in his life. "Have a seat." He gestured to a wooden chair across from the cluttered desk that he sat behind.
When Huxtable looked up and saw Angela, his strict expression disappeared and he stood, moving around the cluttered desk as he extended his arms and pulled her in for a hug.
"You had the good sense to bring her after all," Huxtable said over Angela's shoulder, focusing on Jake for only a moment before blessing his daughter with a look filled with love and admiration. "Good. We have a few things to discuss."
"Yes, we do." Angela didn't just use her bossy tone on Jake. "Who is that woman?" she hissed, pointing in the direction the woman had headed when she left the room.
Angela's father didn't appear daunted or even upset at his daughter's tone. He returned to his chair behind the desk and waved at the two of them to sit.
"A friend," he stated, giving Angela a steady look for a moment longer than necessary. "Anne lets me use this room to work when I'm here. It was her husband's office before he died and since has also been used for storage." Huxtable leaned back in the chair and folded his hands over his belly. "She's not on our list for discussion." He allowed only a moment of silence to follow his order before continuing. "As you can see," he started again, giving Jake his complete attention, "no one knows I come here. It is for the protection of all those involved. And as you also noticed, I'm sure, Anne doesn't know a lot about Angela. For your protection, my dear," he offered, and it appeared the comment would appease his daughter, who was quite obviously sitting there fuming. "I don't have to tell you that your average person isn't equipped with the skills to avoid an interrogation from a criminal, be it casual or painful."
"How long have you known her?" Angela demanded.
Huxtable didn't bend to Angela's commanding nature, which was impressive, because at the same time her aggressive nature didn't appear to bother him at all.
"For now, I'm under the radar," he finished, his features softening as he gazed at his daughter. "You need to believe I'm not in danger and not to worry about me, sweetheart," he added, giving no indication he knew he'd intentionally ignored her question, which had her seething even more. "There is something I'm going to share with you, though. And as well, I want to be updated on your case. Would you care to begin?"
"There are two bugs placed at Mandela's place right now," Angela jumped in, her voice calm, collected, as she leaned back and matched her father's position when she relaxed her hands across her middle and her elbows on the sides of the chair. "His limo is also bugged. The equipment I'm using is working fine," she added. "Last night, though, we recorded the conversation that gave us the edge in handling Mandela when he acted today."
Huxtable nodded. "Did you find the picture on the Internet they were talking about?"
If Angela was upset by her father's all-business attitude, she gave no indication. She responded with the same relaxed tone, debriefing as if this was how they handled their cases every day, keeping emotion out of it and laying out the facts. It was impressive as hell but would never work in Jake's family. The whole lot of them were too hotheaded and weren't afraid to speak their minds.
Angela glanced at Jake and he got the uncanny sensation she was giving him permission to speak.
"No. And I looked." Jake had been the one to search the Internet. "Angela Torres doesn't show up online. Now Angela Huxtable does, but there isn't a picture of her to be found anywhere. I ran a search under your name as well," he said, nodding at Huxtable. "You appear online about as much as I do. Angela has taken on quite a few cases in the four years she's been licensed. If I understand right, she's solved most of her cases."
"All of them," she cut in.
"If I were checking her out," Jake said, not looking at Angela but focusing on her father, "I'd find it a bit interesting that nothing shows up at all under the name Torres and what is online under 'Huxtable' is all less than a year old. That in itself might be interpreted as suspicious."
Huxtable waved his hand in the air. "There just wasn't time. Angela worked hard to create enough history so when a background check was done on her it wouldn't be a blank slate. Creating accomplishments that could be found online wasn't as imperative as having information pop up if a background check was run. Mandela would care more if she was ever arrested or who might have pulled her credit than if she attended this social function or won an award."
Jake wasn't sure he agreed with that, but the point was moot, since obviously they'd already searched the Net and found her.
"Jake was on Mandela's property late last night and believes he knows where the kidnapped people are," Angela announced, changing the subject.
Huxtable nodded. "So he told me. Confirm or deny that ASAP," he ordered, then leaned forward and gathered papers
on his desk, straightened them, and put them down. "Is there anything else?" he asked, shifting his attention from Angela to Jake, then back to his daughter.
"You know there is," Angela said under her breath, her voice seething with emotion.
Huxtable didn't look angry. The cocky bastard was well hidden in front of his daughter. "For now, my dear, know that I'm safe. What matters is the success of our cases, right? Our personal lives can't ever interfere."
Jake watched Angela as she focused on her father. He couldn't tell if she held her tongue because Jake was in the room or if this was her and Huxtable's normal way of communicating. For a moment Jake felt a twinge of jealousy over how well Huxtable controlled his willful, aggressive daughter. Jake had the satisfaction of seeing it could be done, though.
"There is something we do need to discuss." Huxtable stood, remaining behind the back of the desk and staring at the incredibly cluttered room. Stacks of boxes along the walls made it appear a much smaller room than it was. "I have news on my case," he began. When Angela leaned forward, suddenly incredibly interested, Huxtable continued, speaking just a bit faster. "Your sister is officially being reported as missing, in her country and ours."
"Oh God," Angela muttered, leaning back and pressing her fingers over her mouth. "You haven't learned anything?"
"It's what I haven't learned that is very interesting." Huxtable sat again, frowning as he seemed to ponder how he would word what he planned on saying next.
"Tell me," Angela said, guessing her father hesitated with not such good news.
"I've shared with you the facts. She disappeared at the airport. She never picked up her luggage. No one witnessed anything that could have been considered an abduction, an argument, or anything at all out of the normal. There are food courts where Marianna would have been after coming off the plane. All employees working that day have been interviewed and shown pictures of her. No one remembers a thing."
Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry Page 22