Nobody's Angel (30 page)

She didn't think so much of the soreness of all those places he'd used and bruised so much as the liquid heat of her womb as he'd done so. Right this minute she had only to look at him to know she would fall into his bed if he so much as nodded his head in that direction. She turned her back to him as she reached for her suitcase.

“I want you to take the van and get out of the city.”

Faith ignored that stupidity as she pulled on clean underwear. She wished he'd leave the bathroom so she could have some privacy, but it was stupid to wish for privacy after what they'd done last night. She even knew the place on his thigh where he sported a vaccine scar. “I have nowhere to go but home, and that's not any safer.”

“Surely you have friends or family somewhere,” he insisted.

“Other than my parents, not since Charity died.” She'd been searching for security ever since. Last night had been a major aberration. Major. She didn't dare repeat it. She wanted to so much, it scared her right down to her toes. She was terrified time wouldn't change that feeling.

“Fine. I have more family than Attila had Huns. I'll send you to one of them.”

She supposed caveman protectiveness acted as a substitute for anything resembling emotional commitment, or even tenderness. She was used to that and didn't expect more. She might
wish
for it, but she knew the meaning of impossible.

She fastened her bra and shimmied into an electric-blue tank top before turning to glare at her fantasy lover. He'd donned his jeans but hadn't fastened them. His unbuttoned shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, revealing way too much of the dark hairs between pronounced pectorals.

“I am a coward, Adrian Quinn Raphael. I do not like adventures. I would much rather write letters and wait for answers. But I will not let some semiliterate moron terrify me out of house and home, threaten the innocent, or otherwise terrorize my friends in my place. I will stand out in the middle of I-77 and scream until he finds me, if that's what it takes.
Comprende?”

He threw her a black look and started buttoning his shirt. “You're certifiable. He's only after you because he figures you're weakest. Keep you out of the way, and he'll come after me. Let's give him something to think about.”

“Such as?” she asked sarcastically as she pulled on gray slacks. She had assumed they would plot a new route of banks for today. She could be assuming too much.

“Only Tony or I would be interested in accounting records.” He unselfconsciously tucked his shirt into his unfastened jeans. “So we have to figure whoever is tailing us is after the money.”

“Fine, we'll spread a trail of money leading straight to the police station.” She elbowed him aside so she could see the mirror and use the hair dryer and brush. This was entirely too intimate a scenario for her narrow world, but it felt completely natural. He'd obviously pushed her over the edge of desperation into insanity.

Maybe not total insanity. He'd been inside her in more ways than one, and knew the way her head worked as well as she knew his. She knew he was eyeing her breasts in the knit top, knew the shiver of desire lighting both their fires, and knew neither of them would act on it right now. They both
knew how to set priorities. The intimacy of understanding was almost as scary as physical intimacy.

“That's actually a possibility.” Without looking in the mirror, Adrian raked a comb through his still damp hair, pulled it over his shoulder to tie it with a strip of rawhide, and then leaned over to burn a hole in her nape with a kiss.

She nearly dropped the hair dryer.

“I'll stop by the apartment, pick up a briefcase, and drive slowly back to the bank where we found the money. If he's watching the apartment, he ought to be salivating by the time he follows me there.”

“They won't let you into the vault without me,” she reminded him.

“I don't need to get into the vault. That money stays right where it is until the cops can collect it. I just want our stalker to
think
I have it.”

Alarmed, Faith turned off the hair dryer and glared at his image in the mirror. “He'll drive you off the road and kill you for that briefcase!”

“That's one scenario, I suppose, if he's stupid enough to think Tony left everything in one box. But the van is a little more substantial than the bug. It won't be easy.”

“And if he doesn't drive you off the road?” she asked in suspicion.

Adrian shrugged. “He'll follow me to see what I do with it. I can have Cesar and Jim tail him as we enter the city, then I can park, and we can surround the devil. I want to know who we're dealing with here.”

She reflexively swung around to turn his shirt collar down, caught herself, and stuck her hands under her armpits as she glared at him. “He could run over you in the parking lot at the bank, sideswipe you on the highway, gun you down when you stop. He could drive right by and not do anything but note where you take the briefcase. I vote we track Sandra down first.”

“Sandra did not ransack the apartment.” Checking the mirror, Adrian turned his collar down and shoved his hair back before stalking into the bedroom.

The king bed was a rumpled wasteland and the room smelled of sex. The sooner they got out of here, the better off they both would be. Faith grabbed a gray silk shirt to wear over the tank top and retreated to the door with her suitcase. “IHOP,” she demanded. She was starving, and she didn't want him acting on any harebrained notions before they'd had time to formulate a safer plan.

She didn't know why she was worrying about the macho ape, but she was.

Adrian shoved his toiletry kit into his duffel and zipped the bag shut. She really didn't want to get involved with another man. Men expected entirely too much, and a man like this would walk all over her. She wanted to go home to her safe, sane—lonely—life.

Damn, she'd known better than to do this. One night of terrific sex and she was turning into a doormat all over again. At least she'd had terrific sex out of it this time.

When Adrian threw his bag over his shoulder and pushed her out the door, she dodged his hand and held out her palm.

“Give me the keys.”

He looked at her in incredulity. “Why? We're just going to IHOP.”

“You still don't have your driver's license renewed. I'll drive.”

His brow drew down in a frown, but he dug the van keys out of his pocket and handed them over. He still possessed the bank keys. “You're not planning something silly like driving back to Knoxville, are you?”

“I'm not entirely certain that's silly, but no, I want breakfast.” Feeling giddily triumphant over such a small battle, Faith unlocked the van door and climbed into the driver's seat. She'd never driven anything this huge. While Adrian waited patiently on the passenger side, she leaned over and unlocked his door.

“I suppose you ought to learn to drive this while I'm in it.” He threw his bag in the back, slammed the door, stretched out his legs in the roomy front, and watched her with interest.

All right, she was an idiot who preferred someone else do
the driving, but she could do this. Fastening her seat belt, she plugged the key in the ignition, located the shift, and clenching her teeth, had the van running and rolling toward the exit. She'd just asserted herself—now she needed to prove she knew what she was doing.

“If your insurance check has arrived, we need to look for a new car for you. This van doesn't quite match your style.” Sitting sideways against the door, arms folded, Adrian watched her maneuver the van into traffic.

“Put your seat belt on,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.” With a grin, he sat up straight and snapped on the buckle. “You want to be the pirate tonight?”

Delight and terror shot straight up her spine. She hadn't even thought so far as tonight. “No, sir, I want to be Cleopatra, and you're Antony. I want you worshiping at my feet.” She didn't think she could survive another night like last night, but she could contemplate it. She'd always been better at dreaming than doing.

She had done a whole lot more last night than she'd ever dreamed in all her born days.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Adrian eyeing her feet with interest.

“I've been admiring those pearly toes,” he said suggestively. “I think I could get into foot fetishism real easy. Yes, ma’am, worshiping at your feet could be real interesting.”

Double damn. That voice of his had liquid desire pouring through her like hot syrup. She'd never been a slave to sex before, but she could see its appeal right now.

He was trying to distract her, and doing a fine job of it. “Back to business,” she ordered curtly, braking for a vehicle changing lanes without warning.

“I like this chauffeuring thing. I haven't had time to admire the scenery. Wonder how many more stores they can jam onto this road before traffic explodes at the seams?” He gazed out at the wilderness of malls and shopping centers.

“I doubt if ‘exploding’ is the right word. Exploding implies movement. One accident, and it's instant gridlock.” Easing into the right lane, she bumped across the curb into
the restaurant parking lot. She'd done it. She'd driven an unfamiliar, overlarge vehicle without a single incident.

And Adrian hadn't once flinched. He was definitely a higher life form than Tony. With Adrian, she could push back, and he let her. She had only herself to blame if she didn't push.

She parked in the back where she had two spaces to maneuver into, then pocketed the keys before Adrian could reach for them. She wouldn't let him waste his life on stupid crooks. They'd think of a better means of finding their tormentor than using him as bait.

“Something tells me I've unleashed a monster,” he said contemplatively as they walked toward the restaurant. “You're not going to get bitchy on me, are you?”

“I might.” She opened the door before he could reach for it, and marched into the lobby, ordering two seats in nonsmoking before he could catch up with her.

“Maybe
you
should have gone to law school instead of me.” He slid into the booth across from her, ordered coffee, and picked up the menu, but his gaze was still on her.

She wrinkled her nose. “Never had any interest. I wanted to be a singer and an artist, in no particular order. Mostly, I wanted to be a wife and mother, with a little cottage on a quiet street with a white picket fence and neighbors I knew.”

“You almost had it all with Tony.” Sitting back, Adrian tried to relax, but he was sitting across from the most beautiful, intelligent, likable woman he'd known in his lifetime, after a night of incredible sex, and relaxation wasn't precisely on his mind. He didn't know what
was
on his mind because he was too antsy to think about it. He didn't want to think she'd been happy as Tony's ornament sitting in her expensive “cottage.” He didn't want to think of her walking away from this table as she'd already proved she could do. He needed more time to figure out exactly what it was he wanted from her—not that he had any right to expect a damned thing.

“Yeah, well, that proves I didn't know anything.” She doctored her coffee with a pink packet of stuff and an ocean of cream. “I'm wondering if Tony might not have laundered his
money through some other source. If that box could only hold fifty thousand and he stole millions, he couldn't hide it all over the countryside.”

Adrian sipped his black coffee, relieved at this change of subject. He couldn't handle personal relationships right now. “I never kept the books, just signed the transfers when he left memos on my desk. As best as I can piece together, he invested the escrow monies in different mutual funds and brokerages under a name other than the trust's. Then he withdrew from these separate accounts at will. I assume the D.A. confiscated all funds and recovered everything from the fraudulent accounts.”

“Then the millions you supposedly stole were partially recovered?” she asked. “I didn't follow any of this since I'd assumed you were the culprit, and I had other concerns besides Tony or his office at that point.”

“We had a very large estate department. Tony cultivated widows and old people with grandchildren. At the time, I thought he might be skimming a huge commission from each estate, but I assumed he did it legally. I knew about Sandra, but I didn't know how much he was pouring into keeping her. I thought the money was going into your lifestyle, and commissions would have covered that.”

“He only brought home his salary.” Faith played with her cup handle, not looking at him. “If he was skimming huge commissions plus stealing money, I wonder …”

Adrian shook his head firmly at the path of her thoughts. “He didn't gamble, and he didn't drink. I would have left if he had. The commission alone would have been enough to support Sandra if he didn't spend it on you. With the size of the missing amounts, he had to be stockpiling it somewhere. I never heard of any other woman. I don't know how he had time to balance the two of you as it is.”

Faith shrugged, and Adrian caught a forlorn look in her eyes before she hid it. Tony had put her through the wringer. He'd had a real treasure in his possession, and he'd ignored it for the luster of fool's gold. Stupid, stupid man.

If Tony was that stupid … Bits and pieces of the kaleidoscope of memories fell into a pattern. “Tony wanted power and influence.”

Faith glanced up, eyes widening. “He talked a lot about politics, but I knew we'd never have the wealth he'd need to run for the kind of office he was interested in.”

“He was dabbling.” Adrian slapped down his cup. “He contributed to men who encouraged his interest. He spent a lot of time in Raleigh cultivating contacts.”

“He was stockpiling a campaign fund?” she asked dubiously.

“Manipulating investments so he could skim profits as well as commissions. He may even have intended to return the principle to the trusts once he'd made a killing at whatever he was investing in. He'd need a separate account and books to keep it straight, and I can assure you, the D.A. never found any. All leads led to cash withdrawals with my signature on them, my
forged
signature, I might add.”

She blinked in what might have been relief. “Then … the person he was investing through …”