Last Chance To Run (10 page)

Chapter 15

Zane pounded his steering wheel.

What could have spooked Angel?

He’d been confident she couldn’t get past him. He knew the
men’s
room had no other way out than the door used to enter. Unfortunately, an exterior wall on one side of the ladies room held two old-fashioned crank-out windows, which she’d managed to slip through.

His chest tightened at the thought of her alone again on the streets. The change of clothes helped to camouflage her,
but she’d been worried about spending money on food.
How far could she travel on limited funds?

Another aggravating thought hit him.

He still didn’t have a fingerprint. Damn.

Zane kept methodically cruising streets around the area near the restaurant. Maybe she’d run a sufficient distance to feel safe and stop. If she saw his truck, he wanted to believe she’d trust him enough to come out of hiding.

Trust him?
She didn’t trust him at all or she’d tell him who was chasing her.

He drove slowly through the residential sections near the restaurant, up and down back streets. Solitary streetlights illuminated crossroads, but not much else. She could be hidden anywhere within the unlit maze of thirty-year-old homes surrounded by enormous tropical vegetation.

No lost female flagged him down.

An hour later, he quit the hunt, frustrated at losing her a second time. His own stomach growling, he picked up a pizza on his way home. A mild wind blew through the silent parking lot of his complex as he locked the truck. He carried the pizza into his apartment, dropped it in the kitchen then walked through the living room to slide the door open to his patio.

And froze.

Angel was curled up in a corner, asleep and hidden from view by a thick bush on the other side of the patio railing.

She was alive. He kept telling himself that so his chest would relax. 

For the second time that day, relief flooded through him.

He should shake her until her teeth rattled for the anxiety she’d put him through. But lying there with that floppy hat half on her head, she looked so vulnerable that all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms, tuck her close, and keep her safe.

Another day of this and he’d lose his mind.

He opened the door slowly and stepped into the warm night breeze. She stirred. Her eyes blinked open then she jerked, looking around, clearly trying to orient
herself
. Two exhausted amber eyes peered up at him, looking as relieved as he felt.

He gave her a moment then walked over and squatted down.
“Hey there.”

She murmured something that echoed his words.

He ran the back of his finger lightly along her baby soft cheek, inhaling the fresh smell of shampoo, no mousse, no spray, just plain shampoo. How could soap and shampoo smell sexy? He didn’t know, but it did.

The urge to kiss her hit him square in the chest.

Kissing her might make him feel better, but he wouldn’t risk anything that would send her running again. He spoke softly to not startle her. “I was worried about you. Where’d you go?”

She rubbed her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like, “A guy stared. Didn’t know, um, had to go. Sorry, don’t worry.”

Her eyes fluttered a couple of times.

This little Energizer Bunny was out of energy. No run left in her. Damp hair stuck to her face from a light sheen of sweat. She must have traveled the four miles back on foot.

“Come on, Angel, you need to sleep.”  He snaked his arm around her waist to lift her to a standing position.

She let him lead her forward, but once inside the apartment she stopped, shook her head, and said, “Not until I get another shower.” 

The back of her blouse was damp from her exertions. He’d seen no clothes other than the running outfit she’d worn when he first met her.

“Sure. I’ll give you one of my T-shirts to sleep in and we’ll throw your clothes back in the washer,” he said.

“Thanks.
Really sorry to be so much trouble.”

“Honey, it’s no trouble, but I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

She
smiled,
the shy expression too sweet to be criminal. “I don’t want you to get mixed up in this mess. You’ve been so nice to me. I owe you that.”

He sighed. One tap and she’d fall over. He hadn’t slept much during the last two weeks himself. Any questions would keep until tomorrow. “I’ll get you the T-shirt.”

By the time Angel walked into the kitchen fresh from her shower, Zane sat at the counter sifting through mail. She wore his pale blue cotton T-shirt with a redfish busting a wave on the front. It hung halfway down her
thighs.

Nothing else, just her and the T-shirt.
He knew it.

Warning signals screamed from the side of his brain that had been trained to take note of suspicious activity. No one wiped her fingerprints clean everywhere she went. She’d been held captive – he was certain – and then chased down by a deadly group. He’d caught her digging through his storage room looking for something he’d bet played a major role in her tenuous situation. Hard not to think that when his instincts said she’d followed him from Jacksonville looking for whatever she’d lost.

His mission should be clear – determine her identity and find out if she was tangled up in anything illegal that could cause him big trouble.

With complete lack of regard for all that logic, his body was still interested in all that creamy skin not covered by his T-shirt.

She’s probably cold
, the brain in his pants suggested. Yeah. She might be chilled, need him to run his hands over that exposed skin and warm her up.

Or he might just be a goat after all. 

Zane beat his randy side back into submission and tried to see her with the objective threat assessment skills expected of someone with his background.

He’d studied the enemy. He should pay more attention to the criminal behavior.

But she didn’t fit the profile of a threat of any kind. Damp hair framed her face. A soapy clean fragrance filled the air between them. She couldn’t seem to
lie
to him without acting as though she felt guilty. His eyes trailed down the two enticing legs that spanned the break between shirttail and floor.

There were dozens of reasons he should keep an emotional wall between the two of them.

But right now he didn’t want a wall between them.

Hell, he didn’t want that T-shirt between the two of them and couldn’t ignore the inappropriate thought pounding through his mind.

The only thought firing every cell in his brain.

He wanted her.
Bad.

“Pizza smells good.”  She raised her eyebrows, waiting to be invited.

Don’t make her ask for food, moron.
“Sure.
Here.
”  He opened the box. “Want it heated?”

“
Nuh
uh.
It’s perfect.”  She picked up a slice and proceeded to devour it like he’d served her Beluga caviar. She licked her rosy lips after each
bite, the pink tongue destroying his state of mind.

He broke loose a slice and lifted it to his mouth. Kept his eyes averted, anything to shut down the crazy fantasies over how much he wanted to feel that mouth on his body. She’d wiped out three slices by the time he’d finished one.

But then he’d lost his appetite – for food.

Pausing, she caught her breath, seeming at peace after eating pizza. “I’m ready for bed.”

Dangerous visual.

He should be able to sleep around the clock at this point, but had serious doubts he’d get any rest. Not with her lying on a bed within the same walls – wearing next to nothing. Before he could dislodge that image, she interrupted his thoughts.

“If the foldout has sheets ... I’m set.”

No way. If she slept that close to the front door she’d turn into smoke and float out through the keyhole.

He cleared his throat. “You sleep in the bedroom. I’ve got buddies who come by unannounced sometimes. You don’t want to be out here if one of them shows up.”  He could tell she didn’t believe him, but what argument could she offer?

It was true anyway. Ben was liable to show up at any hour, too ramped up on his weird geek adrenaline to go home after working a bust or a crime scene. Or he
would
be liable to show up, if his wife weren’t about to spit out a Ben Mini-Me.

Angel finished a last bite of pizza, then grabbed a sponge and scrubbed her area with the efficiency of a compulsive cleaner. Could that explain the
neatnik
personality?

Maybe she had a germ phobia.

Yeah, sure.
If he believed that he’d be buying swampland in the Mojave Desert next.

At the door to his bedroom, he watched her climb between the sheets. Silky hair trailed across the pillow. She rolled onto her side with a whispered, “Good night.” 

That pumped another painful throb through his groin. Zane pulled the door almost shut then headed for a shower.

Cold water would only do so much.

He was up and down during the night to confirm she still slept in his bed. With each check on her, she’d shifted to a different position, slowly leaving less and less sheet covering her.

The last time he peered through the small opening between the door and the doorframe, a band of moonlight beamed over her backside from the break in the drapes. She lay face down on her stomach. The T-shirt had ridden up to her waist from tossing about.

Yep, he’d been right. No underwear.

Shit.

He’d never been a damned voyeur. Forcing himself back to the foldout, he battled through the few hours left until daylight. The bad thing about going so long without rest was the danger of sleeping too deeply, which wouldn’t be a problem if not for needing to hear Angel if she tried to sneak out.

No
if
to it.

When she
did
sneak out, he’d be ready for her.

Chapter 16

Mason answered his cell phone.
“
Lorde
.”“
ML, got news,” CK reported.

“Good news, I hope.”  Mason was in neither a patient nor a forgiving mood.
But one man had never failed him. If anyone could find his treasure and the bitch who’d stolen it, CK was that man.

“It’s all in how you look at it. Your hot little number has gone south.”

“How far south?”
  Mason sat forward in his leather chair, hand automatically reaching for the gold compass that had also gone missing. Angelina wouldn’t get far now that his bounty hunter had caught her trail.

“Way down. She thumbed rides with truckers. Last one dropped her in Ft. Lauderdale.”

Florida. Why would she go there? Her background checks had been thorough. Angelina’s parents were dead. She had no siblings, didn’t even list a next of kin when he’d hired her.
Had listed a charity sponsoring Olympic hopefuls as her beneficiary for her retirement fund.

When he’d hired her, her prison record had played in her favor. She hadn’t known it at the time, just thrilled that he’d offered her a position in his warehouse.

And she’d been his best employee, busting her butt above and beyond in every aspect of her job.

How could he have misjudged her so badly? He’d been certain she’d play ball once he brought her into the secret side of his international organization. Who’d have expected an ex-con to possess an honest streak?

Mason asked, “What’s next?”

“Just got the background on that pilot who picked her up.”

“Vic said the guy didn’t know anything about her.”

“Could be, but he flies out of a Ft. Lauderdale airfield.”

Mason considered everything. “You think they’re working together?”

“Hard to imagine, based on her info in the file you gave me. The pilot checks out like Mr. Clean, nothing to indicate any connection between those two or between him and you. But she probably found out where he lives or at least where he keeps his plane.”

“And the little bitch went running down there looking for a shoulder to cry on and a place to hide,” Mason thought out loud.

“Want the pilot picked up?”

“Not yet.”  Mason hadn’t reached this point in his life by allowing anyone to intimidate him, but that fucking
Czarion
had warned him against drawing the attention of law enforcement. “Find her and put a tail
on the pilot. Grab her the minute you can, but catch her alone. I want her by Saturday and without drawing attention. Call me as soon as you have her. Do whatever it takes, but make sure she’s alive.” 

“Will do.”
  The connection ended.

When the time came to end Angelina’s life, Mason wanted that privilege. He just hoped he hadn’t given CK too much leeway with capturing her. CK could stretch the meaning of “do whatever it takes.”  The downside of dealing with this bounty hunter was his rumored sex binges.

Mason had wanted Angelina from the minute she’d walked into his warehouse and would have enjoyed her at his compound the first time he’d visited her here if not for her ill-advised attempt to flee. He’d been forced to teach her humility,
then
wait on her recovery.

Silly twit.
She’d been useless for days after that, unconscious most of the time. When he found her this time, he’d bring her to heel, but with restraint. He wanted her fully aware and pleading for mercy when he took her.

Just as soon as he had the coins in hand and
Czarion
off his back.
She’d pay for that, too.

No one humiliated Mason and lived.