Last Chance To Run (16 page)

Don’t panic.
Could be nothing.

Zane shifted to turn the radio on. Late seventies rock and roll poured out at low volume.

“I hate traffic the Friday before a holiday,” he mumbled.

Breathing was difficult. She couldn’t answer him. They inched forward as the gap between cars tightened. Their truck sat in a virtual parking lot with nowhere to maneuver if they had to get away.

She chewed on her bottom lip. If whoever it was took a shot at her, Zane might be in the line of fire this time.

Zane asked, “Are you okay?” 

Turning around and shrugging, she said, “Yes, fine. It’s the traffic. I hate it, too.” 

The longer he studied her, the more nervous she became. She had a strange feeling he anticipated her movements.

Zane had found her too easily this morning. And he handled a gun like
he knew what he was doing. He must have learned about more than flying in the Air Force. That still wouldn’t convince her to stay around him if Mason’s men showed up. But for now, she was going nowhere since she knew Zane had the coins. 

Should she mention the Yukon? Nothing had
happened
other than her bout of paranoia.

The minute she gave him reason to worry he’d want to keep her locked up in his apartment. She had to get back to the marina. Maybe she’d change her tactic from offering to rearrange the storage room, which had annoyed Zane, to helping him clean up his boat, which ought to thrill him.

Especially if she cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, the least favorite areas for most men.

That plan had potential.

Feeling relaxed for the first time in days, she threw another casual glance at her side view mirror and did a double take. The passenger door swung away from the Yukon. Someone stepped out, all but his gray pants hidden by the door.

Her lungs backed up in full panic mode.

She cut her eyes at Zane who was looking intently at something in his rearview mirror. Were men coming up on his left? She quietly unclipped her seatbelt and dove out of the truck, running flat out.

At the sound of Angel’s door opening, Zane wrenched around to find
himself
alone in the cab. He slammed the truck into park, hit the release on his seatbelt and jumped out, running around the front of the truck.

Horns started blowing with the traffic light change.

She was already through the traffic jam and disappeared around a corner.

People were yelling. The beer truck laid on his horn.

Zane took one look back at the vehicles behind him to see if anyone was pursuing her.

No. So why had she run?

He stomped back to the driver’s side and dove in, throwing it in gear and driving through the intersection as the light turned yellow.  

Damn! She was gone again. He wanted to bang his head against a wall.

Slapping the wheel, he blew out a breath. At least this time, he’d gotten a break. She’d been too involved with the dog on their way back from Jacksonville to notice he’d taken the cup she’d used to serve
Chut
water.

With one good fingerprint he’d finally know who she was—whether he found her again or not.

The minute he had her identification, he was turning it over to the police and requesting they put out an APB for her safety.

~*~

Zane drove straight to his apartment. The last time Angel vanished she’d gone back there, but the route had been shorter and easy to remember. Ten miles of turns and bridges separated his home and the marina.

He swung into the first parking spot and wished with every breath he took she’d be waiting at his door.

Negative.

Regardless, he dashed into the house just to make sure she wasn’t magically sitting at the kitchen counter eating cold pizza. The further he went on his irrational search, the deeper his disappointment.

His immaculate apartment appeared undisturbed. And there
should
be no trace of her. He paced the floor, opened the microwave and shut it, and decided he was losing his mind.

His perfectly tidy apartment had suddenly become a problem. Now it was as strong a reminder of his compulsive-cleaner houseguest as her yellow running shoes would be if they’d sat in the middle of the floor.

Shit.

Grabbing his keys on the way out, he punched in Ben’s number and jogged to the truck. The fingerprint specialist might give him grief, but he’d always come through when Zane had to have a name.

And he
had
to have a name.
Now.

He had to find her or report her as missing.

Chapter 24

Angel watched from a fast food restaurant as Zane pulled away from his apartment complex. She’d been lucky to arrive ahead of him, but it had taken accepting a ride from a kid with a motorcycle who’d dropped her a few blocks away.

No one had followed Zane in or out of his apartment parking lot. At least
he
was still safe. She waited another half hour until clouds covered the sliver of moon to give her plenty of darkness before she started hunting a way into the complex without attracting undue attention.

It took her even longer to zigzag a convoluted half-mile route that sometimes meant crawling between bushes and buildings, but she finally managed to sneak around to the rear of the apartment. Hunched over most of the time, she worked through the thick foliage, hesitating when tenants strolled by on the paths.

When she found the patio belonging to Zane’s apartment, she rolled over the wrought-iron railing onto the tiled floor. The cool surface offered a better hiding place than sitting in his comfortable deck chairs. With no idea where Zane had gone, she probably had a long wait until she could get inside the apartment.

If
he let her back in.

He had to be pissed and she couldn’t even justify her panic. When she’d gotten through the traffic and found a place to stop, she’d looked back to see all the vehicles turning left.
Even the dark blue Yukon.

Had she imagined the threat?

Her gut said no, that she was right to run, but her gut didn’t have to face Zane’s anger.

She’d just eased down in the corner of the patio into a semi-comfortable position when she heard the muffled two-tone chime from Zane’s front door. A tap-tap-tap against the door sounded, but no voice called out to see if anyone was home.

Could that be one of Mason’s men at the front door?

Why would he knock? To pretend he was a visitor or making a delivery?

If that was Mason’s men, would they be watching the rear to intercept her if she ran?

Damn.
Sit here like an easy target? Or run and make
herself
visible?

She crawled around behind the chairs to hide, as far out of sight as possible.
Trapped.

A shiver raced down her spine when she saw the front door handle turn and the deep blue barrier inch open.

The piercing security alarm screeched with the broken connection.

Angel scrunched down so low in the corner of the patio that her knees and chin met. She needed an escape route if the intruder proved to be a threat, but where would she go at this point?

A narrow hand slipped inside the front door and punched several numbers on the flashing panel, quieting the hideous noise. Zane’s sister peeked around the edge of the door into his apartment.

Trish leaned in further and called, “Sugar, are you home? If you are, get your drawers on ‘
cause
I’m coming in.”  She calmly entered, then closed the door, turned, and walked to look down the hallway toward Zane’s bedroom.

“
Za-ane
.”
  She shrugged and strolled into the kitchen.

Angel expelled the breath she’d been holding and her heartbeat slowed to halfway reasonable.

How long would his sister stay or, worse, what if she wanted to sit outside? She mentally ticked through a selection of possible scenarios, all of which ended with being found hiding on the patio.

Another rule from her survival training popped into her mind.

The best defense is a good offense.

And truth be known, Trish had no idea what type of relationship she and Zane shared so finding Angel here without him might not look unusual.

Even better, maybe Trish knew where he’d stored the canvas boat curtains.

Angel stood up, straightened her clothes, and twisted all of her hair back up into the clasp she’d borrowed earlier from Trish’s drawer. She tapped on the glass door, waited a minute and then rapped harder the second time.

When Trish stuck her head out of the kitchen she immediately cocked it to one side in that confused-dog look before her eyebrows shot up in recognition. A cheery smile popped into place as she hurried across the room to unlock the glass doors, chattering the whole time.

“Oh, Sugar, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you sitting out there. Did you lock yourself out?”

That worked. “Yeah, I was locked out. Good timing for you to show up.”

Seriously good timing.

She hadn’t paid attention to Trish’s soft southern accent the first time they’d met, but caught it now.

“Come on in,
Sug
, it’s too hot to sit out there. I don’t know how you and Zane stand the heat. The man loves his fresh air. Let’s close the door and enjoy the AC.” 

Trish’s ankle-length fuchsia dress dotted with yellow squiggles blared in stark contrast to Zane’s coffee brown and forest green décor. The dark-haired beauty circled the sofa carrying a glass full of cola-looking liquid, before sinking into the soft green leather.

“Want something to drink, Sugar?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks for letting me in.”

“No problem.”  Trish eyed her curiously. “I hadn’t even heard of you before yesterday. So, where’d you meet my brother?”

A reasonable question under any other circumstance, but not one Angel had anticipated. Telling Zane’s sister he’d helped her escape armed men didn’t strike her as a wise idea.

“We met in North Carolina. I was in a hurry to leave, so he gave me a ride to Jacksonville.”  Basically true.

“You live here or just visiting?”

Though Angel knew his sister’s intent was not to put her on the spot, it didn’t alleviate her discomfort. The fact that they’d never meet again didn’t change the way Angel felt about blatantly lying to her.

Her father had lied as part of his plea bargain. Basically, he’d sacrificed her to save his own skin. Mason had lied when he hired her. Angel would stay as close to the truth as possible.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t be a little creative.

“Actually, I’m visiting. I plan to relocate in the future, but haven’t made up my mind where yet. How long have you been here?”

“I moved here three years ago when Zane did. Before that I lived in Houston. We grew up just outside the city limits. Our parents died while Zane was in the Air Force so he opted out early. He didn’t feel any real tie to Houston, and I’d missed him terribly. When he picked Ft. Lauderdale, so did I.”

Trish’s deep brown eyes softened every time she mentioned her brother.

Angel envied the close sibling relationship. Zane’s love for his sister had been written all over his face when he’d hugged her the day before.

Before Trish could ask her another question she’d have to dodge, Angel said, “Zane said you’re really good at appraising antiques.”

Trish looked away, looking decidedly uncomfortable and mumbled, “He’s biased.” 

Sore topic.
Angel changed direction to fix her mistake. “He also tells me you have a gift shop. Sounds like a fun business. Tell me about it.”

That brought a smile to Trish’s face, but not her voice. “It’s an eclectic mix of doodads.
Been open three months.”

Zane was right. His sister’s heart wasn’t in the gift shop. But would
moving
her shop to this other Las
Olas
area make any difference? Angel wanted to do anything to help Zane and she liked Trish, but the best she could offer was encouragement. “Takes time to build a business, but Zane says you’re great with people.”

Trish leaned back, kicking her crossed leg with a nervous bounce. “I told him things would pick up this winter when the snowbirds show up.”

“That makes sense. So you’re partners?”

“I couldn’t have done it without Zane’s help. I had no idea where to start with opening a business, but...” Trish
shrugged,
a version of Zane’s. “I’m getting the hang of it. He takes care of all the real business and I work with the customers.”

Angel wondered where the tough breaks Zane had mentioned came in. His parents may not have doted on Trish, but she was bright and pleasant, obviously loved her brother and operated her own shop.
Sometimes.
His sister was sitting here again during business hours. Maybe Trish had someone covering for her when she showed up unannounced like this.

Trish waved her hand from side to side.
“
Yo
, Angel, back to earth.”

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I asked you where Zane
is?
”

Oops. “He didn’t tell me where he was going, but he’ll probably be back before you know it.” 
Fair answer.

“He doesn’t even have an answering machine. Can you believe that? I called earlier here to see what his plans were, but didn’t get him,” Trish said, jiggling her glass.

Angel started to ask why Trish didn’t call Zane’s cell phone, but changed her mind. The more she let Trish talk, the less
she
had to say.

“So anyhow, I jumped the bus and took a chance he was here. But it’s just as well. I’m getting to know you instead.
Can’t say that I’ve met any female friends of Zane’s since he moved here.”

Interesting.
“Why not?”
Angel asked.

Trish’s thick black lashes met when she smiled. She shoved her shoulders up in another shrug. “He’s never had a problem meeting
women. They fall all over him. But a twit in Texas burned him years ago. They were pretty intense for two
months,
until he found out she was
engaged
to somebody else.”

What a bitch
.

Trish continued swishing the cubes around in her glass and rambled on. “I don’t think he ever got over it. These days he sees everything in a hard line, right or wrong. If there’s one thing my brother hates, it’s being deceived. Personally, I was glad to see the gold digger gone. My brother’s generous to a fault and I can’t stand anyone taking advantage of him.”

Trish glanced at Angel and her eyes narrowed for just a second, then lit with a smile again.

In spite of all Trish’s flighty mannerisms, she had a solid core of strength where Zane’s welfare was concerned. A strength that maybe even Zane didn’t realize.

The smile of a charming young woman replaced Trish’s vexed reaction over the gold digger. She glanced at her jangling bracelet watch.

“I can’t stay long. My friend, Heidi, is picking me up after she gets off work.”  Trish bounced up holding her glass out for examination. “Looks like I’m empty. Hang on. I’ll be right back. You need
a water
or drink or anything?”

“I’m fine.”  Shoot. It wasn’t bad enough that Angel was becoming attached to a man she’d never see again. Now she wanted to get to know his sister better.

Some people fantasized about winning the lottery and living a life of leisure.

She fantasized about having friends.
A respectable job and a real home.
Nothing
elaborate
, but with a man who loved her, and who would give her children.

Now that she’d met Trish, she wished she’d had a sister.

Because of the less-than-ideal household Angel had grown up in, she’d had few friends. She’d never brought guests home to be around her mother’s drinking. Once news of Angel’s arrest hit the papers, everyone had deserted her. She’d shunned all female relationships after the twelve months and three days she’d spent in a cell trying to survive among women who’d trade a life for a pack of cigarettes without blinking.

Now, after years of bitter disappointments, she’d met a man dreams were made of, with a sister she’d genuinely like to know better. Creating space in her life for either one was an indulgence she couldn’t afford.

Her timing stank. Life continued to wave her heart’s desire in front of
her then snatch it away any time her fingers touched the golden ring. 

Trish hummed as she passed in front of Angel’s chair, then she bumped the coffee table and lost her balance.

Angel leapt up to grab Trish’s drink before it hit the glass surface, but missed. When the now-full drink hit the floor, ice and cola splattered across the carpet.

“Hang on, I’ll get some towels.”   

With a rag from the laundry room, Angel scrubbed the soft beige carpet. She sniffed a sweet whiskey scent, but kept her thoughts to herself. With the ice picked up, the damp area was hardly noticeable. Amazingly, the drink had left no stain.

“Hey, thanks,” Trish said, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You should move here. Maybe Zane would stay home more often.”

Angel smiled at her. “Well, that would be nice, but I’ve got a small problem I need to take care of before I can figure out where to live.”

Wavy black hair bounced around Trish’s flawless complexion when she checked her watch. “Heidi must be running late. I better go catch the next bus before I miss it.”