Fallen Angels: Beguiled\Wanton\Uncovered (2 page)

He stared at her, and she had the feeling he didn't believe a single word she'd said. “Let me get your shoes off.”

She sat up and pushed at his hands. “I don't want my shoes off, dammit!”

“At the moment, I don't care what you want.” And her laced-up, ankle-high shoes came off in rapid order, then her tights. As he looked at her leg, at the angry scars still there, his jaw tightened. “Damn.”

Angel bristled, her only defense at being so exposed. “It's ugly, I know. If it bothers you, don't look at it.”

One large hand wrapped around her ankle, keeping her still, and the other carefully touched the vivid marks left behind by the break and the subsequent surgery. “A compound fracture?”

“So you're a doctor now?”

He ignored her provocation. “This is where the break was, and this is where they inserted a rod.” His gaze swung back up to her face, accusing.

Disgruntled, but seeing no way out of her present predicament, she said, “I'm fine, really. It's just that when you sat me on the desk, you jarred my leg and it…well, it hurt. It's still a little tender. I only recently got off crutches.”

His gaze was hot with anger. “And you're running around downtown in the ice and snow today?”

“I wasn't running around! I came to see you.”

“Because you needed a man,” he sneered, and her temper shot off the scales.

“Damn you!” Struggling upward, pulling herself away from his touch, she pointed to the shoe box still sitting on his desk. “I came to bring you that.” Then she added, “Whether you wanted it or not.”

He turned his head in the direction she indicated, but continued to kneel beside the couch. “What the hell is it?”

Angel came awkwardly to her feet and limped barefoot across the plush carpeted floor. She picked up the box, but then hesitated. She hadn't planned to raise hell with him, to anger him and alienate him. She had to move carefully or she'd blow everything. She closed her eyes as she gathered her thoughts and calmed herself. She hadn't heard him move, but suddenly Derek's hands were on her shoulders and he turned her toward him.

“What is it, Angel?”

He sounded suspicious, an edge of danger in his tone. She'd always known Derek could be formidable, his will like iron, his strength unquestionable. But she'd never sensed this edge of ruthlessness in him before. She shuddered.

“I don't mean to shock you, Derek. And I realize you weren't all that interested when I told you, but I was hoping you'd feel different now.”

His arms crossed over his chest and he narrowed his eyes. “Interested in what?”

She drew a deep breath, but it didn't help. “Our baby.”

Not so much as an eyelash moved on his face. He even seemed to be holding his breath.

“Derek?”

“A baby?”

She nodded, curling her toes into the thick carpet and shivering slightly, waiting.

“How do you know it's mine?”

She reeled back, his words hitting her like a cold slap. After all she'd been through, everything that had happened, not once had she suspected he might deny the child. That was low, even for him. She had to struggle to draw a breath, and once she had it, she shouted, “You bastard!” She swung at him, but he caught her fist and the box fell to the floor, papers and pictures scattering.

“Miserable, rotten…” Her struggles seemed puny in comparison to his strength, but he had destroyed her last hope, delivered the ultimate blow. She wanted to hurt him as badly as she'd been hurt, but he was simply too strong for her and finally she quit. He hadn't said a word. Panting, shaking from the inside out, she whispered, “Let me go.”

Immediately, he did. Keeping her head high, refusing to cry, to contemplate the hopelessness of the situation in the face of his doubt, she went to the couch and sat, snatching up her tights and trying to untangle them so she could get them on.

Even though she refused to look at him, she was aware of him still standing there in the middle of the floor, fixed and silent. When he squatted down to pick up the contents of the box, Angel glanced at him. His face was set, dark color high on his cheekbones. He lifted one small photo and stared at it.

All Angel wanted to do was get out. She jerked on her shoes, pulling the laces tight, fighting the tears that seemed to gather in her throat, choking her. She'd humiliated herself for no reason. She'd allowed him to touch her for no reason. He wasn't going to acknowledge the baby.

“I'm sorry.”

She glanced up as she shrugged on her coat. Derek still crouched in the middle of the floor, a single photo in his hand, his head hanging forward.

Angel frowned. “What did you say?”

He slowly gathered up the rest of the things and came to his feet. “I said I'm sorry. The baby looks like me.”

“Oh, I see. Otherwise, you wouldn't have believed me. In all the time you've known me, I've proven to be such an execrable liar, such an adept manipulator, it's of course natural that you would have doubts. Well, it's a good thing he doesn't have my coloring then, isn't it? You'd never know for sure.”

“Angel…” He reached a hand out toward her, and there was something in the gesture, a raw vulnerability she'd never witnessed. In fact, too many things about him seemed different, some softer, many harder edged. Had something happened to him in the months since she'd last seen him?

She shook her head. She would never be drawn in by him again. “Those things are yours to keep. They're duplicates. Records, photos, a birth certificate, which if you notice, has the father's name blank.”

“Why?”

He sounded tortured now and she frowned, tilting her head to study him. “You weren't interested, Derek, though I admit I was hoping you'd changed your mind by now.”

“I'm interested,” he growled.

She thought of the last time she'd called him, the hell he'd put her through. “When we spoke on the phone, you rudely informed me you didn't want any attachments to a baby. You told me I was completely on my own, not to bother you.”

He actually flinched, then closed his eyes and remained silent. But she had no pity for him, not after all that had happened. “That's not why the name is blank, though. Remember what you told me about your family? Well, I love my son, and I won't lose him to anyone, not to you, not to your damn relatives.”

He looked blank and her irritation grew. “Your mother is a damn dragon, determined that everyone live according to her rules. You said that's why your brother left, why he became so hard. Your family frightens me, if you want the truth. Especially your brother.”

His golden eyes darkened to amber. “That's ridiculous.”

“You said he was the only one strong enough, independent enough to leave the company without a backward glance, to go his own way and tell the rest to go to hell. You said he was the only one who could make your mother nervous or your sister cry. You said he could do anything he set his mind to.”

“No one makes my mother nervous, and my sister is a younger replica of her. Nothing touches them.”

Angel buttoned her coat. “You've changed your mind then, but I won't. I won't take a chance that they'll try to take him away from me. I don't want them to know about my baby.”

“Our…” He stopped and she saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “Our baby.”

This was a point too important to skimp on. She went to him, holding his gaze no matter that he tried to stare her down. She pointed at his chest and forced the words out through stiff lips. “I don't know what new paternal mode you're in, but don't try to take him from me, Derek. I swear I'll disappear so quick you'll never find me or him again. I can do it. I've made plans.”

“No.”

She was incredulous. “You can't dictate to me! Not anymore. Whatever power you held over me, you gave up months ago when you rejected my pregnancy.”

He didn't shout, but his near whisper was more effective than any raised voice could be. “Is that right? Then why are you here?”

She had to leave, now, before she tripped herself up. She turned toward the door. “There's an address in with the papers and photos. A post office box.” She slanted her gaze his way. “I'm sure you remember it. You can get in touch with me there.”

“Give me your phone number.”

“I don't think so. But I'll call you soon.”

“You're playing some game, Angel, and I don't like it.”

She had her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned. “It's not a game.” As she stepped through the door, she said over her shoulder, “And I don't like it either. Think about the baby, Derek, what you'd like to do, and I'll call you tonight. We can talk then, after you've gotten used to the idea.”

He took two quick steps toward her. “What I'd like to do?” He frowned. “You want me to marry you?”

“Ha!” That was almost too funny for words. As she pulled the door shut, she said, “I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

And she knew he'd heard her ill-advised words, because his fist thudded against the door.

Well, that hadn't gone off quite as planned. Actually, nothing like she'd planned. She'd hoped to seduce him, to regain his interest. She needed his help, his protection, and that was the only way she could think to get it. Sex had been the only thing he'd been interested in before, so it was what she'd planned to offer him now.

Only it felt as if she was the one seduced. Damn, why did he have to have this effect on her? Her body was still warm and tingling in places she'd all but forgotten about, and all because of a man she thought she'd grown to hate.

A man who had never affected her so intensely before.

Damn fickle fate, and whatever magic had made Derek Carter into a man her body desired.

D
ANE HIT THE DOOR
once more for good measure, vexed with himself and the turn of events. Dammit, he hadn't meant to touch her. He had intended to get close to her, but not that close. He'd wanted to learn about her, to discover any involvement on her part, whether or not she could provide a clue to his brother's death. But he'd also planned to keep his hands to himself.

She'd made that impossible.

He'd wanted her the minute he'd seen her. She was lush and feminine and seemed to exude both determination and vulnerability. He'd also been stunned because Angel Morris looked nothing like the usual polished, poised businesswoman his brother tended to gravitate toward.

And then she'd demanded he kiss her.

Without knowing the exact nature of her relationship with Derek, he couldn't take the chance of turning her away without raising suspicions. And at the moment, given everything that had just transpired, he needed to keep her close, not drive her away.

He'd suspected she was there for a purpose, but God, he'd never considered a child.

Stalking across the office, he picked up the phone and punched in a quick series of numbers. His hand shook as he did so, and he cursed again. He could still feel the tingling heat of her on his hand, still pick up the faint hint of her scent lingering in the office. Angel might have been sexually aroused—her first time with him, to hear her tell it—but he felt ready to burst, not only with lust, but with a tumultuous mix of emotions that nearly choked him.

If not for her injured leg, he had a feeling they'd have both found incredible satisfaction. He'd have taken her and she would have let him. He grunted to himself, disgusted. Making love in his brother's office, on a damn desk, with a woman he barely knew and whose motives were more than suspicious. His own motives didn't bear close scrutiny.

“Sharpe here.”

“Be ready,” Dane barked, frustrated beyond all measure. “She should be leaving the building any second now.” After receiving Angel's note, Dane had gone through her file, learning what he could about her, which wasn't much. When he'd first decided on the tail, he'd been reacting on instinct, his life as a P.I. making decisions almost automatic. Now he was driven by sheer male curiosity, and the possessive need to keep what was his. She had his nephew, and that formed an iron link between them that he wouldn't allow to be severed.

“Description?”

All his agents were very good, but Alec Sharpe, a brooding, almost secretive man of very few words, was the best. Dane trusted him completely.

“Blond, petite, probably limping a little. Wearing a long wool skirt and a dark coat.”

“Got it.”

The line went dead and Dane sighed, putting the phone down. Alec would contact him again using the cell phone once he was sure of his lead. He figured it would take Angel at least a few minutes to maneuver out of the building. If she was parked in the lot, that would take even more time. If she hailed a cab, no telling how long he'd be left waiting.

Alec knew he was still checking out the circumstances of his brother's death, but no one else did. So far he'd found only enough to raise his concerns, but not enough to form any conclusions.

His brother's home had been discreetly searched, his papers rifled through. And Derek had some unaccounted time logged in his otherwise very orderly date book that made Dane think he'd had meetings best left unnoted.

Dane settled himself back behind his brother's desk and began going through the papers and pictures Angel had given him. The first picture of the baby had shaken him and he stared at it again for long moments. It was a photo taken at the hospital of a tiny red-faced newborn that looked almost identical to the twin photos his mother still displayed on her desk. The shape of the head was the same, the soft thatch of dark hair, the nose. He traced the lines of the scrunched-up face and a tiny fist, then smiled, feeling a fullness in his chest.

The next picture was more recent, and the changes were amazing. As plump as a Thanksgiving turkey, the baby had round rosy cheeks, large dark blue eyes, and an intent expression of disgruntlement that reminded him of Derek. Dane wanted to hold the baby, to touch him, make sure he was real. He was a part of his brother, left behind, and Dane knew without a doubt he'd protect him with his life. He hadn't even met the baby yet, but already the little fellow had found a permanent place in his heart just by existing.

Dane turned the picture over and found the words,
Grayson Adam Morris.
A very recent picture, only a week old. And the name, it was respectable, solid, except that it should have read
Carter,
not
Morris.
Dane intended to see to that problem as soon as possible.

There were also copies of the birth records, and the baby's footprints, not much bigger than Dane's nose. He made note of the hospital Angel had gone to, the name of the doctor who'd attended her, and considered his next move. He shook his head, then looked impatiently at the phone. As if he'd willed it, the phone rang and he jerked it up.

“Yeah?”

Without preamble, Alec said, “She's getting on a bus and she has a baby and some tall guy with her.”

Dane went still, then shot to his feet. The baby had been here with her? “Are you sure it's a baby?”

“Bundled up in a blue blanket, cradled in the guy's arms. I don't think it's her groceries.”

“Who's the guy? Are you certain he's with her?”

“Tall, dark hair, sunglasses. Wearing a leather bomber jacket and worn, ragged jeans. He's holding her arm, they're chatting like old friends. You want me to find out?”

“No.” His hand clenched iron-hard on the phone, and Dane decided he'd figure that one out on his own. “Just concentrate on the woman. You can see if he goes home with her, but other than that, ignore him.”

“I'm on it. I'll get in touch when we reach a destination.”

Again Dane hung up the phone, only this time he used a little more force than necessary. Damn her, had she been lying all along? Why would she bring the baby and a boyfriend with her when she claimed to have missed him—
Derek?
Didn't she think that was a bit risky, considering he could have followed her out?

He seethed for almost a half hour before Alec called him back with an address. The guy with Angel had in fact gone into the same building, and the building was located in one of the less auspicious areas of town. Dane pulled on his coat and put everything back into the shoe box, tucking it beneath his arm. He couldn't risk leaving anything behind where his family might find it. He locked the office on his way out.

Angel Morris thought she knew how to deal with him, but she was judging her moves on how Derek would react. Dane wasn't a game player, never had been and never would be. His family had figured that out too late; the sooner Miss Morris figured it out, the quicker they could get things settled. He intended to explain it all to her this very day.

 

W
ITH THANKSGIVING
not too far off, many of the houses had Christmas decorations already up. All the shops he passed had their front windows filled with displays. But as he neared the address given to him by Alec, the spirit of Christmas melted away. Bright lights were replaced with boarded-up windows. Graffiti rather than green wreaths decorated the doors. None of it made any sense. Dane knew Angel had lived in a very upscale apartment complex while working for the Aeric Corporation. He knew from her file that she'd lost her job there after Derek had taken information from her to assure the success of a hostile takeover. But surely she wasn't destitute. She'd made a good yearly wage.

Wary of the denizens in the area, Dane parked his car in a garage and walked the last block to Angel's home. The bitter November wind cut through his clothes and made him shiver, but filled with purpose, he easily ignored the cold. When he reached the brick three-family home that matched the address Alec had given him, he gave a sigh of relief. Calling the house nice would be too generous, but it was secure and well-tended, located on a quiet dead-end street of older homes. Angel and his nephew should be relatively safe here.

At least until he moved them.

The front door wasn't barred. He entered a foyer of sorts and looked at the mailboxes. There was no listing for an Angel Morris, and he frowned. Then he saw an A. Morton and his instincts buzzed. Going on a hunch, he figured that had to be Angel. Why would she hide behind an alias, unless she had a reason to hide? He recalled his purpose in first starting this ruse. Though it was obvious she knew nothing of Derek's death, he couldn't discount the possibility that she might have helped set him up for the fall, even innocently. She certainly had plenty of reason to hate him and want him out of her life, and she professed to fear his family, so why then had she approached him today? Because she was surprised he
wasn't
dead? Did she have contact with an insider who had informed her of his resurrection? Very few people were privy to the fact of his and Derek's relationship.

The apartment number listed was on ground level and he went to the door, then knocked, bracing himself for the sight of her again. She'd really thrown him for a loop with her sensual response to him. And he knew in his gut her reaction hadn't been feigned. Just remembering it made his every muscle tense.

“Come on in, Mick.”

Dane tightened his jaw and his temper slipped. So the guy who'd been with her, Mick, was welcome in any time? Did she respond as hotly with Mick as she did with him? Dane turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

Angel was lying on a sofa, her injured leg propped up on pillows. She wore only a flannel shirt and loose shorts cut down from a pair of old gray sweats. Thick socks covered her feet. She shoved herself half upright and stared at him in undiluted horror.

Dane looked at her from head to toe, and as a man he appreciated the earthy picture she presented. But he'd use caution from here on out. Angel seemed to vacillate between fear and awareness. Dane decided that either way he'd use her emotions against her to find out for sure what her purpose might be.

Her fair hair was tousled and spread out over the arm of the sofa. Her breasts beneath the worn flannel looked soft and full, without the casing of a bra. Her legs were very long and pale. He saw the vicious scars on her left leg, still angry and red, and his simmering temper jumped in a new direction.

He closed the door quietly and her incredible green eyes went wide and wary. “Derek.”

He indicated her cushioned leg. “You're hurt worse than you let on.”

Color washed over her face as she started to rise from the sofa. Dane was beside her in an instant. He caught her shoulders, pressing her back down, feeling the narrow bones beneath his hands, aware of her smallness, her softness. “Be still. It's obvious you overdid it today. You shouldn't have been up and around.”

He perched on the sofa cushion next to her, feeling her apprehension while he examined her leg, trailing his fingers gently over her smooth skin. Just seeing the scars left behind made him wince in sympathy.

She seemed to gather herself all at once. “Just what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.”

“How? How did you find me?”

“I had you followed.” His gaze swung from her leg to her outraged face. “Why use an alias?”

Angel paled a little. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mailbox.”

Rather than answer, she tried bluffing her way with anger. “That's none of your business. And why do you care anyway?”

He was good at lying when it suited him. “Because I have the feeling you'd never have let me get this close. But I second-guessed you, didn't I?” He waggled a finger in her face, bringing back her healthy surge of angry color. “I think I'll keep close tabs on you from now on.”

She gasped and he added a not-too-subtle warning. “You can keep your secret, Angel—for now. But when I'm ready, I will know what's going on.”

Her lips firmed and her look became obstinate. But beneath it all, he saw a measure of pain. “You're not completely mended yet, are you? Were you hurt anywhere else?”

She gave him another stubborn frown and his attention dropped to her body. Holding her gaze, he asked quietly, “Would you like me to find out for myself?”

She jerked and her arms crossed protectively over her breasts. “All right! I also had some bruised ribs and a few cuts and scrapes—all of which are now healed.”

He continued to look at her, and she turned her head away. “My shoulder was dislocated, too.”

“Good God. What the hell happened to you?”

Even before she spoke, he knew no truths would cross her beautiful lips. Amazing that he could read her so easily after only knowing her such a short time, but he could.

Her chin lifted and she said, “I fell.”

“Down a mountainside?”

“Down a long flight of stairs, actually.”