Authors: Cheryl Yeko
Angela opened her eyes as the last remnants of her orgasm flowed over her. The sound of Jake’s name lingered in the air. Dazed she lifted her hand to her hair and pushed it off her face, glancing around her bedroom. She was alone. Her breath came in short little gasps.
Damn.
She had a sex dream about Jake. The humor of it hit her and she laughed softly. That was a first. Angela couldn’t remember ever having had such an . . .
entertaining
dream before.
She snorted. Maybe she should try to get back to sleep. With what she knew must be a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, she pushed the covers aside and headed into the bathroom for a shower.
Afterward, she put on a pair of jeans and found a light sweater hanging in the closet. The pants were a bit loose and hung low on her hips while the sweater was a tad too small, hugging her breasts and not quite reaching her waist. Whoever had chosen the clothes to bring to the hotel must have blindly grabbed from her closet. Like most women, she had skinny and fat clothes, depending on the time of the month or holiday celebration. With a sigh, she turned and headed to the kitchen to make coffee, scooping Shelby up on her way.
She had just finished washing the dishes when the hotel phone rang. She glanced at it, not sure if she should answer. Who would be calling her here?
With some hesitation, Angela picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Angela?” Stacey’s voice filtered across the line.
“Stacey,” she squealed, a smile spread across her face. She plopped down on the couch and clutched the phone to her ear as happiness flooded her. “It’s so good to hear from you. But how did you get this number?”
“Well, umm.” There was a slight pause. “J.D. patched me through to you.”
“J.D.? Do you mean Jake’s brother, J.D.? “ How did she know Jake’s brother?
Stacey giggled. “Yep. That’s him.”
“How do you know him?”
“He came by to talk to me about what happened to you. Are you really okay, hon?”
“Yes, Stacey. I’m fine. But they’re keeping me under lock and key until the trial next week.”
Angela stroked Shelby’s fur with firm sweeps of her hand, her cat’s answering purrs helped comfort her, easing her tension. “I’m bored stiff already. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand another week of this.”
“Well, maybe I can get J.D. to bring me for a visit.”
Angela chuckled. “J.D., is it? Is he with you now?”
“Umm, yeah. He knew I was worried about you so he agreed to let me talk to you.”
Angela snorted. “Uh-huh.” Stacey was such a flirt. And men loved her.
A burst of laughter hit her ear. “Okay, girlfriend. You’ve got me, but I can’t really talk right now.”
“Oh, you mean, he’s right
there
with you now?”
“Yep,” Stacey said brightly. “Hang on for a sec.”
Angela listened while Stacey wheedled a visit to the hotel from J.D. She heard a deep male groan of capitulation right before Stacey’s triumphant voice came across the line.
“I’ll be there tonight with a bottle of Merlot!”
John (Snake)
Mallory, leader of the Raptor gang, was one scary son of a bitch. A big guy, with ostentatious gang symbols covering his body, including the multi-colored Cobra snake that coiled around his neck and stretched up the left side of his face. The snake’s head covered his cheek, where it appeared to hiss. Hard soulless eyes glittered from a battle-ravaged face. A dangerous man and a well-trained, cold-blooded killer who’d never failed to take out a target. Until Angela Beebe.
Michael Hirschman waited until Mallory took a seat across from him, then leaned forward and met his icy stare. “You missed.”
Mallory’s face hardened and his cold eyes turned glacial. “Minor setback.”
Michael shot Mallory an angry glare. “I’m paying you a small fortune to clean up this mess. I want her found, and I want her dead.”
Mallory gave a curt nod. “Won’t be a problem.”
“How’s the arm?” The cop had shot Mallory during the failed hit. Michael needed to be certain he was still capable of getting the job done.
Mallory’s eyes flashed fury. “Just a scratch.”
Michael had no choice but to take his word for it. “Have you located the new safe house?”
“No. But I will.” His threatening tone dared Michael to doubt him.
A knock sounded at the door. Mallory stood and turned toward the sound, body tense. His hand moved to his waist.
Michael motioned to Mallory. “Don’t worry. I’m expecting information regarding Angela.”
Mallory’s posture relaxed, but he remained standing.
“Come in,” Michael ordered.
His assistant entered the room, eyed Mallory warily, and handed Michael a file, then quickly left. Michael flipped open the folder.
“Well, well.” He glanced at Mallory. “New information has come to light. It seems Slater didn’t act alone. Whoever he was working with, I want them found. And questioned.”
“And then what?”
Michael's lips curled into a sneer. “Handle it.”
Mallory nodded. “Does Angela Beebe have any close friends?”
“She only has one that I know of, her boss, Stacey Holland. They seem pretty tight.” He tossed him the file. “If you can’t locate Angela, grab her friend. Maybe she’ll come out of hiding to save her.”
“And we should
handle
her as well?”
“Yes. I don’t want any witnesses.”
Mallory picked up the folder and flipped through it. “It says here the cop has a son. Maybe we can use that.”
Michael frowned. He didn’t want to harm a kid. Then his thoughts wandered to his own family and his resolve hardened. He needed to protect them. “Do whatever you need to do.”
“If I take a kid, it’s gonna bring down a lot of heat. It’ll cost you extra.
“Just remember, Snake,” Michael bit out. “You’re balls deep in this. If I go down, you go down with me.”
Mallory gave him a hard glare. “Whatever it takes?”
“Whatever it takes, just do it.”
Mallory gave a curt nod, then turned and left.
Michael reached into his bottom desk drawer for the fifth of whiskey he kept there. The trial started in less than a week. If Angela managed to connect him to her husband, he would lose everything. Including, possibly, his life.
He lifted the shot glass to his mouth. The fiery liquid slid down his throat and hit his gut with pleasurable warmth. However, it did nothing to ease the tension that flooded his body like a rip tide. He refilled his glass and threw back another shot.
Impatience edged Jake’s nerves as he waited for Rick to get off the phone with his contacts. They were breaking some privacy laws, but he just didn’t give a shit. He needed to know what happened to Angela during her marriage to that asshole. Rick had pulled some strings and they were waiting for a brief summary of Angela’s medical history.
“What did you learn?” Jake asked in a strained voice, not sure he was ready for what he’d discover.
Rick turned toward Jake, his face carved in stone. There was a slight pause. “It appears she was accident-prone during her marriage.” His lips drew into a tight line.
“What do you mean, accident prone?” Tension spread through him like a gathering storm.
The fax machine sounded an incoming transmission. Rick strode over to watch the pages feed into the tray. Silence filled the room except for the clicking and twirling of the fax machine as it fed the document through, then fell silent.
Rick picked up a handful of pages, studying them. “It says here that over a two-year period, Angela was brought into the emergency room four times, besides numerous trips to the walk-in clinic.” His gaze lifted to Jake.
“What were her injuries?” Jake wanted to know, but yet, didn’t. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Rick glanced back down and flipped through the pages. “Cuts and bruises, mostly, a lot of cuts and bruises.” He glanced at Jake with eyes that burned with anger. “Except the last time, about four months before Scott’s death.”
Filled with a sense of dread, Jake strode over and ripped the pages from Rick’s hand. He glanced down to scan the entries.
Patient . . . lacerations to patient’s back from falling through glass patio door.
Patient . . . head injury requiring eight stitches and facial bruising from a fall.
Patient . . . concussion from a fall. Abuse suspected, patient denies.
Patient . . . broken wrist and bruising . . . signs of forced sexual intercourse. Counselor brought in, patient denies abuse.
Rage exploded through him like a bomb blast as fury stole his voice. He closed his eyes with a silent curse, his body trembling with rage. Unable to read any further, he curled his hands into a fist, crushing the paper he held.
“Hey, buddy, we may need that.” Rick pried the crumpled pages from Jake’s fist. “You okay?”
“Why didn’t she ask for help?” But he didn’t expect a reply. As a cop, he knew there were no easy answers.
Rick shook his head and shrugged. “Only Angela can answer that question, buddy.”
Jake’s cell phone rang from where he’d tossed it on his desk. He picked it up and saw J.D.’s number flash across the LCD display. “Yeah,” he snapped.
There was a slight pause. “Is this a bad time, bro?”
He forced back his dark emotions. “No. What is it?”
J.D. cleared his throat. “I just wrapped up my interview with Stacey Holland.” There was another pause.
Jake knew his brother as well as he knew himself, and his voice held a defiant inflection. The same one J.D. had used on their parents over the years when he knew he was in trouble.
What doesn’t J.D. want to tell me?
“Spit it out, man. I don’t have all fricken day.”
“Stacey confirmed that Beebe abused Angela.”
“I’m aware of the abuse,” Jake said. His tone was nothing more than a snarl.
A sigh came across the line before J.D. continued. “Okay, anyway, Stacey wanted to speak with Angela so I patched her through.”
“You used a secure line?”
“Of course.” J.D. gave a disgusted snort.
“Okay, then what’s the problem?”
“Well. The thing is . . . I kinda promised the girls I’d take Stacey to the safe house tonight so they could visit.”
“You, what!” Jake gave his head a quick shake, trying to clear his ears.
“You heard me,” J.D. said defensively. “I’m taking Stacey to the safe house tonight. I don’t see any harm in it.”
Jake opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped. Angela had been through a lot this week. He glanced at Rick, who still held the report in his hand. She’d suffered a lot, too, it seemed. What could it hurt to let her friend visit for an evening? Maybe it would lift her spirits.
“All right.”
“All right?” J.D.’s voice held a note of surprise.
“Yeah.” Jake warmed up to the idea. It would do Angela some good to be able to talk things over with another woman.
“I’ll meet you back at your place after you drop Stacey off,” Jake said. “I’d like to spend some time with Nick and the twins. We can go over the case before I head back to the safe house.”
“You got it, bro.”
Angela gathered her hair and twisted it into a bun as she studied herself in the vanity mirror. Dark loose strands fell down each cheek and her long bangs swept to one side, secured with a silver butterfly clip. The clip was one of many she’d purchased from Stacey’s boutique. She loved the way the rhinestones glittered when she moved her head, as though the butterfly’s wings were in motion. It made her feel pretty.
The question of whether Jake would think she was pretty flashed across her mind. She tensed.
Why would it matter what he thought?
Then she remembered her dream and her body came alive with longing, tendrils of desire wrapped around her. The person who stared back at her in the mirror had a blush staining her cheeks, and eyes darkened with passion. Angela closed her eyes against the image and blew out a breath. She turned toward the sound of the front door opening.
“Hello?”
She recognized Stacey’s voice and flew through the bedroom door to give her a big hug. “Stacey, I’m so glad to see you.”
“Hey, girlfriend. You got some ‘splainin’ to do.”
As usual, Stacey looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. Her curves were shown off to perfection in a pair of short-shorts and a tank top the same color as her wild locks. Colorful bracelets from Baubles and Bangles graced both her wrists and her silver hoop earrings matched the silver chain nestled between her breasts.
Angela chuckled, then glanced at the paper bags Stacey gripped in each hand and quirked a brow. “Whatcha got?”
A smiled flashed across Stacey’s face. She winked and thrust a bag toward her. “Meet Sauvignon Blanc and Moscato.”
Stacey moved to the kitchen area and placed the other bag on the center island, reaching inside to pull out the contents. “Sauvignon Blanc will be joining us for a scrumptious dinner of seared scallops and wine-braised leeks. Moscato is staying for dessert.” She reached back into the bag with a flourish and brought out an eight-inch German Chocolate Cake. “Ta-da!”
“Yum,” Angela said with a chuckle. Her favorite. The tension she’d been carrying around the past few days eased, overpowered by Stacey’s sunny disposition.
Angela rummaged through the kitchen drawers looking for something to uncork the wine, with no luck. Stacey chuckled again, then reached back into the bag and removed a small corkscrew. “Don’t worry, girlfriend, I’ve got your back.”
Angela smiled. “You always do.” She took the corkscrew from Stacey to open the wine, while Stacey started dinner.
By the time the scallops were prepared and in the broiler, they’d killed off over half of the 1.5-liter bottle of the white wine and their laughter filled the room.
Angela grabbed the remaining bottle of wine off the counter and led the way into the living room to plop down on a chair. Stacey sprawled onto the couch across from her.
“Did Jake’s brother drop you off?” Angela asked as she leaned over and refilled Stacey’s glass. Then she emptied the rest into her own glass, before placing the empty bottle on the coffee table with a thud and a giggle.
“Yep. J.D. A really nice guy.”
“Yeah, how nice?” Angela quirked a brow.
Stacey grinned and her eyebrows did a Groucho Marx wiggle. “Real nice,” she said in a singsong voice, bringing her hand near her mouth to imitate a cigar flick. They both doubled over into another fit of giggles.
When they were finally able to compose themselves and catch their breath, Stacey turned to her with a curious look. “Have you ever met J.D.?”
“Yes . . . well, no, not really. I’ve never met him personally.” She glanced at Stacey. “You heard about the shooting?”
Stacey nodded, eyes dark and solemn.
“Well,” Angela continued. “I guess he was there that night, although I never actually saw him.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened?”
The fear she’d felt over the last few days was muted by the alcohol she’d consumed and Stacey’s companionship. She took a sip and brought Stacey up to speed on the events that had transpired. Starting with how Jake had taken her to his home after she’d been released from the hospital.
“. . . Then he kissed me,” Angela finished. She blushed. Not sure if she was ready to tell Stacey how Jake had intimately touched her, right before someone attacked his home.
“Really.” Stacey’s voice held both wonder and amusement. “Did you kiss him back?”
The oven buzzer sounded and Angela jumped up and ran to the kitchen to pull out the braised scallops. They smelled delicious. Since they’d already killed off the Sauvignon Blanc, she opened the bottle of Moscato and readied the table.
After they settled down to enjoy the meal, Stacey glanced at her with an amused grin. “Well, did you?”
Angela couldn’t stop the telltale blush that worked its way to her cheeks.
“You did,” Stacey squealed, and then her eyes narrowed. “What else happened? Come on girlfriend, ‘fess up.”
“Nothing.”
“Uh huh.” Stacey eyed her suspiciously.
Angela took a swig of her wine. “I went to my room right after that.” She glanced at Stacey. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.” The heat in her cheeks increased as she remembered the pleasure from Jake’s gentle caresses.
Stacey’s eyebrows rose to new heights. “Uh huh.”
Angela chuckled. “Well, anyway, I decided I should discuss what had happened and went back to speak with him. When I stepped into the living room, he dove at me and tackled me to the floor.”
“Really?” Her tone no longer held amusement, now it hinted at shock.
She nodded. “Yeah. As soon as we hit the floor, bullets started flying.” She shivered. “I was terrified. Jake told me to crawl to the bathroom and climb in the tub for protection.”