Fallen Angels: Beguiled\Wanton\Uncovered (12 page)

She looked thoughtful as she continued her study of his face. “Very nice. Incredible really. But ever since I saw you again, it's been that way. You look at me, and I get all hot inside. You touch me and I can't think straight. I try to despise you; I have good reason to despise you, but I can't. It doesn't make any sense. Unless having the baby changed me somehow.”

“Angel.” She was killing him with her words, but he didn't know how to tell her that.

“After everything that happened between us, I thought I'd always hate you.”

He groaned. “Don't, babe.” He kissed her, hard and long, his tongue thrusting deep, stroking in a parody of the sex act. He rubbed his hairy chest against her sensitive nipples and felt her legs bend, coming up to hug his hips. The open juncture of her legs was a sweet torture, her damp heat against his belly, her soft thighs cradling him. He rubbed against her, his muscles bound so tight he felt ready to break.

She shifted, and then his erection was smoothly pushing against her wet sex. Angel began moving with him, their mouths still fused together, both of them breathing rapidly, roughly.

She jerked and pulled her mouth away, crying out.

Dane was stunned as she quickly climaxed again, shuddering beneath him, her head arched back, her heels digging into his thighs.

His control snapped. Shaking, he grabbed up his slacks and fumbled like a drunk for his wallet. He found a condom and viciously ripped the packet open with his teeth. Angel was still gasping breathlessly and when he turned, catching her legs in the crook of his elbows, spreading her wide and driving into her with one hard thrust, she cried out again.

He couldn't think. His brain throbbed and his vision went blank and all he could do was feel and smell and taste her. She'd invaded his heart, his soul. He was the one who felt possessed and he rebelled against it even as he felt himself spiraling away. He squeezed his eyes shut and growled and pumped and when he heard Angel groan he knew she was with him yet again. It was too much. It felt like he exploded, his entire body gripped in painful pleasure, but it was so damn wonderful he never wanted it to end.

It took him a long time to come back to reality, to hear Angel's soft sniffling, to feel the shudders in her body. Slowly, feeling drugged, he struggled up to his elbows again. Tears dampened her eyelashes and her lips looked swollen. His heart twisted.

Damn, her leg. His arms were still tangled with her legs and he knew she had to be in pain. He'd taken her roughly, almost brutally. That he'd hurt her made him wince in self-loathing. Carefully, he straightened, letting her legs down easy. She groaned and pressed her face to the side, away from him.

He cupped her chin and turned her back. “Angel, honey, I'm sorry.”

She shook her head.

“Babe, look at me.”

Her eyelashes lifted and she stared up at him. The tears in her eyes twisted his guts. He pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her gently. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

She frowned.

“I got a little carried away.” He tried a smile but it felt more like a grimace. “You moaned, and all rational thought fled my mind. I'm sorry.” He sounded like a parrot, apologizing over and over again.

“Derek…”

Goddammit, he hated having her call him that.
“Shh. It's all right.” Her hair, dry now and tangled impossibly, lay wild around her head. He tried to smooth it. “Can I get you anything? Some aspirin or something?” He felt like an idiot, having sex with a woman then offering her medicine for the pain.

She shook her head again and her voice, when she spoke, was tentative and as soft as a whisper. “I'm fine, just a little…stunned. Is it always like that?”

Now he felt confused. Buying himself some time, he sat up and carefully moved to the side of her. Her body had been damp and warm from their exertions and combined heat, and she shivered in the cool evening air. He pulled the corner of the spread up to cover her, but left her leg bare. Gently, he massaged her calf and saw her wince.

“Dammit, I'm an unthinking bastard. I—”

She laughed, catching his hand and twining her fingers with his. “No, you're not. I'm fine, Derek.”

He forcefully ignored the continued use of his brother's name. “Then why were you crying?”

She sat up and put her arms around him, burrowing close. “Because it was so wonderful.”

His heart pounding, Dane hugged her back. “I didn't hurt you?”

She laughed. “Maybe a little, but I didn't notice…until after.”

He pressed her back down on the bed and stood. “I'll be right back.” With those words, and one last glance at her naked body, he left the bedroom. He wanted to make sure the apartment was secure for the night. There were three windows, one in the kitchen over the sink, but it was too small for an intruder, and one in the living room on that same wall. He checked to make sure it was locked, then realized the window was so old and warped, opening it would be a true effort. He'd be in the bedroom, so he wasn't worried about that window. He'd already locked the front door when he'd first come in. He glanced at the phone, scowled, but put that particular worry from his mind. Right now, he wanted to concentrate on Angel.

He peeked in on Grayson to see the baby sleeping soundly. He'd been afraid their commotion might have disturbed the infant, but Grayson was snuggled warm and comfy in his crib. He lay on his side, and one chubby cheek was smooshed, his rosebud mouth slightly open.

Damn, Dane felt good. He hadn't felt this good in…He'd never felt this good. Angel was the perfect bed partner, wild and abandoned and responsive. She burned him up. She was also sweet and caring and strong.

And she had Grayson, his nephew, the strongest bond he had left to his brother. In his heart, Grayson was his own.

As soon as he set things right with Angel, they'd be able to work together to find out what had happened to Derek. Likely, the threats to her and Derek's death were related. He hated the unknown, hated how ineffectual he felt when dealing with the whole problem. Somehow he had to uncover a mystery and protect Angel at the same time. Thank God the threats to her were so far only abstract, not physical. Long before they got too serious, he intended to have everything resolved. From here on out, he'd double his efforts.

Dane returned to the bedroom moments later with a damp washcloth. He'd disposed of the used condom, and set two more on the nightstand. The night was still young, and he was still hungry.

Angel looked almost asleep and the fact she hadn't been concerned with him roaming her apartment assured him that she was starting to trust him, at least a little. It also proved, to some degree, that she had nothing at all to hide.

She opened her eyes and blinked sleepily up at him when he sat on the edge of the mattress. “What are you doing?”

“I was just going to make you more comfortable.” So saying, he swiped the warm, damp cloth over her face, her neck, then down her body. She smiled and arched into his hand with a sigh of pleasure.

“You wore a…a…”

Dane cocked one eyebrow. “A what?”

Pointing down to his lap, she said, “You know. Before you made love to me.”

“A rubber? I didn't want to take any chances. Much as I adore Grayson, the last thing you need right now is another pregnancy, what with your leg and—”

“And my financial situation and the threats.”

Dane leaned down and kissed her. “I'll take care of the threats. Don't worry about that. And as far as I'm concerned, you don't have any financial worries. I can take care of everything.” As quickly as he said it, he raised a placating hand. “I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded.”

But Angel was already scowling fiercely. “I've told you enough times now, Derek, I don't need anything from you.”

Dane eyed her heaving breasts, her flushed cheeks, and tossed the washcloth away. “I wouldn't say that's precisely true.” In the next instant they were sprawled on the bed again. Angel moaned his brother's name.

As he shoved the spread out of his way so nothing would be between their bodies, he whispered, “I'm spending the night, honey, and in the morning we'll figure everything out. But for now, I want you again.”

“Derek.”

He'd have to settle things soon. Being called another man's name while making love to a woman who was quickly obsessing his mind couldn't be borne.

In the morning, he thought. He'd clear it all up in the morning. Then Angel could begin accepting things. She could begin dealing with Dane Carter. And he'd be sure to remind her how much more she liked him than Derek.

A
NGEL WOKE WITH A GROAN
.
She felt sore in places she'd never thought about before, her muscles protesting as she stretched, her mind foggy from too little sleep.

She and Derek had made love several times during the night. The man seemed insatiable, yet she wouldn't complain. Everything he'd done to her had been wonderful, if a bit shocking. She smiled as she looked toward the window and saw that the sun was coming up in a blaze of orange light. She loved dawn in the winter, the promise of sunshine when the weather was so bleak and cold.

Turning back to the center of the bed, she reached for Derek, only he wasn't there. Angel frowned, and then her gaze fell on the clock on the nightstand. Eight-thirty. Good grief, she hadn't lain abed so late in ages. She wondered if Derek was in another part of the apartment, but it was then she noticed the note on his pillow. She straightened in the bed and unfolded the slip of paper.

Angel smiled. She could almost hear the boasting tone of his voice in the teasing words.

Don't worry, indeed. How did he presume to magically “take care of things”? she wondered. She dropped the note as she yawned and stretched once more. Time to get up and check on Grayson. At least Derek had had the foresight to leave the bedroom door open. He'd closed it during the night, against her protests, but true to his word, he'd heard Grayson when the baby awoke, and had even fetched him to her so she hadn't been forced to leave the warmth of the bed. After she'd nursed him, Derek had taken him back to his crib, then since they were both awake, he'd made love to her once more. Even that last time it had turned fast and furious and she'd bitten his shoulder to keep from screaming like a wild woman.

Her face heated with the memory of Derek's satisfied smile. He'd looked at the small teeth marks on his shoulder and grinned with pride.

Unaccountable man. Angel smiled.

It was as she was slipping on her housecoat that the crash sounded. Breaking glass and a loud thunking sound, followed by a low hissing. Her heart leaped into her throat and it took her a moment to unglue her feet, to get herself in motion. She raced out of the bedroom, and was immediately assailed by the smell of smoke. Billows of it poured out of the kitchen into the rest of the tiny apartment.

“Oh my God.” Angel stared, then ran for Grayson. The baby had just been jarred awake, and his face was blank for only a second before he began to squall. She jerked him up into her arms, wrapped a blanket tightly around him and then raced to the front door. It took her too much time to manipulate the lock and she was cursing as she finally got the door to open. Once in the hallway she froze, wondering what to do, if maybe the fire had been deliberately set for just that reason, to get her out of the apartment, vulnerable. Shaking, her heart beating too fast, she tried to soothe Grayson even as she ran the length of the hall to Mick's apartment.

She pounded on the door, trying to look around herself, to be aware of any danger. The door opened and Mick's mother stood there, her face ravaged from a long night, her clothes rumpled as if she'd slept in them. She looked unsteady and very put out. Before Angel could say anything, Mick came around his mother.

“What's happened?” He jerked Angel into the apartment and looked her over. She knew her housecoat was only hastily closed and she tried to adjust Grayson to better cover herself.

“A fire. In my apartment. Someone broke a window I think.”

Mick stared at her, then started to thrust her aside, determined, she knew, to investigate. Angel grabbed his arm. “No! Just call the fire department, for God's sake.”

He shook her off and spared a glance for his mother. “Make the call. I'll be right back.”

Mrs. Dawson made no effort to stop her son, frustrating Angel beyond measure. She watched the woman pick up the phone and try to make a coherent call, but it was obvious she was hungover.

Gently, Angel took the receiver from her and gave the details as best she could. The man on the other end told them all to vacate the building and that someone would be there right away. Angel prayed Mick would hurry back. She'd never felt so afraid in her life.

Mick stormed back just as Angel was trying to bundle Grayson up. “It's okay. It was only a small fire and it's out now, but to be safe, let's wait for the firemen outside.” He went into his own room and fetched two blankets to bundle Angel in, and then slipped on his own coat.

His mother made grumbling noises and held her head. “I think I'll just go over to Jerry's. You can handle this, can't you, Mick?”

Mick gave a quick, abrupt nod. “Yes.” Mrs. Dawson picked up her coat and walked out, one hand holding her head. Mick's face looked set in stone.

He took Angel's arm and started her outside. Already they could hear the sirens. He put his arms around Angel and the baby, trying to lend his warmth and comfort.

Angel wished with all her heart that he was her son. “Thank you, Mick.”

He ignored that. “First thing once the place is declared safe, you're calling Derek.”

She swallowed. “All right.”

“You have to tell him everything now, Angel. No more playing around.”

“I know.”

She could feel how tense he was, his anger tangible. “Damn, I wish I'd seen whoever it was.”

Angel was eternally grateful he hadn't.

It only took the firemen minutes to confirm what Mick had told her. Someone had broken her small kitchen window with a rock, then tossed in a bundle of gas-soaked rags. The result had been more smoke than anything else. Mick had smothered the flickering flames with a blanket, much to the firemen's dismay. They lectured him on safety matters, on the importance of walking away from a fire rather than trying to handle it himself. Mick, she could tell, only halfheartedly listened to their speeches.

Endless questions followed, but finally it was all put down to a prank. It was obvious to the firemen that while the fire could have become serious, that hadn't been the intent. More of a lark, they said, their tones edged with anger. Angel didn't tell them about the other threats—the phone calls and the letter. She wanted to talk to Derek first. She had a feeling he'd want to be with her when she spoke to the police.

Mick skipped school that day, opting to stay with Angel instead. He'd already missed his morning classes arguing with his mother, who'd come home drunk once again. Angel felt for him, even as she gladly accepted his company.

The apartment was a mess, the smell of smoke lingering on everything. All of her clothes stank. She could do nothing about her jeans, but Mick loaned her a fresh sweatshirt to wear. They were in the apartment for mere moments, only long enough for her to gather the necessities for Grayson and a few of her own things. She didn't have apartment insurance, and the thought of the expense of replacing several things overwhelmed her. The firemen had suggested she call a professional cleaner to tackle the smoke damage and the singed areas of her kitchen, but she knew she couldn't afford it. She would have to do the cleaning herself.

Mick hovered over her as she settled herself on the couch in his mother's apartment. He handed her the phone. “Call Derek now. You've put it off long enough.”

She sighed, knowing he was right, but not sure how to tell him. He was going to be angry, no doubt about that. And her thoughts still felt so jumbled.

Buying herself a little time, she thumbed through the personal phone book she'd retrieved from her desk. Her eyes closed as she thought of all the papers still to be typed, all of them gray with ash dust. How such a small fire had done so much damage she couldn't imagine. Her world was quickly unraveling around her, her choices falling away one by one until now she had no choices at all—she needed Derek. The idea didn't panic her nearly so much as it had only a week ago.

Deciding not to dawdle anymore, she found Derek's work number and punched it in. A secretary answered.

Angel cleared her throat. “I'd like to talk to Derek Carter please.”

A very polite voice regretfully turned down her request. “I'm sorry, ma'am. Mr. Carter can't take your call right now.”

Angel drew a calming breath and tried to pull herself together. Yelling at a secretary wouldn't gain her a thing. “You don't understand. I
have
to speak with him. It's an…an emergency.”

There was a slight hesitation before the secretary said, “Just a minute please.”

But it wasn't Derek who came on the line. Angel didn't recognize the impatient male voice, but at his inquiry, she repeated her request.

Suspicion crept into his tone when he asked, “Who is this?”

Because she was rattled, Angel answered without thinking. “Angel Morris.”

Stunned silence followed, then a rough laugh that was quickly squelched. “Well, well. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, sweetheart. But Derek Carter is dead.” There was another moment of silence where Angel could hear her own heartbeat, and then he added, “Maybe I can help you. What do you need?”

Angel dropped the phone as her heart kicked violently in panic. She couldn't draw a deep enough breath. Mick frowned at her and picked up the receiver. “Angel?”

She shook her head, slowly coming to her feet. She knew her face was white, her breathing too fast. It couldn't be true; it was likely part of the threat, some vicious game to taunt her, confuse her.

A cleansing rush of anger ran through her. First the damage to her apartment, and now this contemptible prank. She absolutely refused to believe it was any more than that.

Mick started to speak into the receiver but Angel snatched it away from him and slammed it down in the cradle. “No. Don't say anything else to him.”

“Him? What's going on, Angel?”

She paced in front of Mick, her stride stiff and angry. “He said Derek's dead, but I know it can't be true! It can't be.”

Mick frowned. His face turned pale with confusion and concern. “Of course it's not.” He looked undecided for only a second, then determination replaced every other emotion on his face. “Come on.” He hauled Angel along behind him with a firm grip on her arm.

“Where are we going?”

“To his company. You'll see for yourself that Derek is just fine, and then you're going to tell him everything. This is starting to get too damn weird.”

“Yes.” Angel nodded, not at all concerned with her mismatched clothing, her tangled hair, or her ash-smudged face. She only cared about seeing Derek, alive and well.

Her reaction was telling, she thought, but she refused to dwell on it. He was okay. She was certain he was okay. Her hands shook with anger and her heart ached as she bundled Grayson into a blanket and followed Mick out the door. Once she knew for certain it was all part of the threats, that Derek was indeed fine, she intended to tell him everything.

She'd never doubt him again.

 

D
ANE STARED AROUND
at the solemn faces watching him. He knew his mother wanted to protest this little meeting he'd called, but so far she'd held herself silent. That alone confused him, because his mother had never been one for circumspection. She had a tendency to go after what she wanted with the force of a battering ram.

Which made her acceptance of Derek's
accident
all the more suspect. He pushed that aside for the moment.

The meeting wasn't officially with the board; it was a family matter and Dane intended to treat it as such. His two uncles, both older and naturally calm, held positions on the board, but it was their positions as heads of differing departments, as well as the fact they were family, that had guaranteed their presence here now. His mother was again seated to his right. His cousin, an amicable sort in charge of the sales department, was at the end of the table. They were waiting for Raymond and his sister, who had each been attending to previous meetings of their own.

His sister walked in first, looking chic in a stylish business suit, her fair hair loose, her face pale. She knows, Dane thought. His sister was well aware of how he felt about playing corporate head; it wouldn't take much deduction on her part to realize he was ready to make his exodus from the company. He hoped his mother would consider giving the position to Celia instead of Raymond. It would be his recommendation, with the promise he'd visit more often if his wishes were met. It was blackmail of a sort, something his mother could understand and appreciate.

Raymond hurried in right behind Celia, straightening his tie and tucking his shirt in more firmly. His hair was mussed, his face flushed. Very unusual for Raymond, who made a great effort to always look immaculate and composed. Dane had the disquieting thought that the two of them had been together, possibly playing around rather than attending to business. What in the world his sister saw in the man, he didn't know. Dane watched Celia give Raymond an inquiring glance, saw him quickly smile and pull out her seat, then take his own beside her. Maybe they hadn't been together, he thought, seeing his sister's dark frown, but at that moment his mother cleared her throat, impatient.