Last Chance To Run (19 page)

Her predilection for one food group amused him, but he had a tough time smiling with his heart in his throat.

He hated walking away from her right now, but knew better than to leave Trish for long when she was partying hard.

Angel must have misread his reluctance as concern that she’d disappear.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here.”

Would she?

Chapter 28

Angel dug through the basket full of clean clothes next to the dryer. A blazing red shirt with a chest pocket was perfect. It suited her blazing fury. She hadn’t quite figured out who she was angrier with, herself or Zane, but red covered all bases.

Had she completely lost all sense of priority? Okay, she’d admit the truth. He’d been right. She did want him as badly as he obviously wanted her.

She should have known that once Zane Black touched a woman there would be no other man after him. Not that she wanted another man, but once she went into the WITSEC program – or ended up back in prison – they’d never see each other again.

How was that fair to Zane?

It wasn’t. Not any more than it was fair for her to be the only one to benefit by his lovemaking tonight. Staying here lulled her into complacency and had her starting to think Zane was right. That she could solve her problems and stick around.

If he knew everything, he’d realize how wrong he was.

Should she tell him everything?

Why not? She trusted him.

She propped a hip against the dryer, considering the pluses and minuses of doing that. If she told him about Mason, how she ended up at the compound, and about the coins, Zane would believe her. Then he’d bring in the police who would bring in the FBI. Everyone would listen to her and maybe even believe her.

Until she failed to produce someone to corroborate her alibi.

The FBI would also bring in Mason who would have to explain his fingerprints on the plastic coin sleeves.

What would she do in Mason’s shoes?

Claim that he and Angel had been intimate right before she disappeared from work. That some sleeves from his own rare coin collection had gone missing, but he hadn’t put it together until now.

No matter how ludicrous an idea, they’d buy it once he marched out all the philanthropic things he did each year and how he’d never had so much as a traffic ticket. Then he’d say how he’d wanted to give her a second chance, thought she’d changed her ways since being released from prison. Felt sorry for her when she came to him looking for a job, but couldn’t resist when she stripped in front of him, then threw
herself
at him.

He was a guy, after all. He’d bow his head in fake shame over his one weakness. 

Everyone would turn suspicious eyes on Angel at that point.

Then Zane would get involved and try to convince the FBI that Mason was
lying
because Zane had met her when she escaped Mason.

By the time the FBI went to the airfield to corroborate that, anyone who’d been around that night would be gone or dead.
More innocent lives on her conscience.

It would continue to spiral out of control until Angel ended up in prison and Zane was accused of helping her, maybe landing in prison, too. Or dead, which was a more realistic possibility.

A possibility she could not let happen.

No, she would keep him out of this and get the heck away from him as soon as she could do it when he wouldn’t be able to follow. She’d panicked and run here as the only safe place she knew, but nowhere she stayed was safe. 

If she hadn’t promised not to leave tonight, she’d be gone now.

Grabbing the T-shirt, she stalked into the bathroom and cranked the shower lever to one degree below lobster-boiling temperature. The scalding water charged over her screaming muscles, drawing out the tension.

Showering at any opportunity, and alone, was a luxury she never took for granted and rarely passed up.

Refreshed, she dried her hair quickly before relaxing on the leather sofa. She started to wipe everything down, but she’d been forgetting around Zane, a couple of times. And why should she continue with her habitual cleaning here at Zane’s apartment?

It wasn’t as though a pilot would care if she left a fingerprint, or would have reason to watch for them.

Finding the television remote, she flipped channels until local news crawled across the screen. A perky anchorwoman shared the latest stock market concerns and weather before moving to national interests.

Angel had curled up against the wide armrest of the sofa and almost drifted off to sleep when a news report broke through her slumber.

“The body found in a dumpster near Raleigh, North Carolina has been identified as Jeff
Jurnowski
,” the news anchor announced. “Initial report on cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head. The police have several leads, but are not discussing those at this time.”

She sat up, paralyzed by the words.

That was Mason’s former employee, Jeff. With the bullet hole in the head Mason had put there to teach
her
a lesson.

Jeff had been nice to her, even showing her a picture of his pet Beagle. He’d worked on the wrong side of the law, but no one deserved to be murdered in cold blood.

The news report rattled her. Mason wasn’t stupid. Jeff had been shot just days before her escape. His body hadn’t just disappeared and shown up in a dumpster by mistake. Not when Mason could make use of it. What was Mason up to?

Her hands trembled when she lifted the remote to click up the volume.

The news anchor finished with, “The authorities are running fingerprints found on the man’s possessions. His employer, Mason
Lorde
, has issued a statement of the company’s sympathy over the loss of a respected employee.
Lorde
went on to say he will aid the police in any way and alluded to a female employee who went missing around the time of
Jurnowski’s
death. Police refused to comment on whether the female is a suspect in the case, but said they are working all possible angles. They are not releasing her name at this time.”

Angel’s mouth fell open.
...authorities are running fingerprints found on the man’s possessions.
She’d touched the photo of Jeff’s dog.

Mason intended to hang Jeff’s murder on her.

Chapter 29

Zane shuffled through the front door with Trish and a pizza. His sister’s glum face and quiet countenance were a result of his own discontent.

He’d decided to bring her home rather than spend two hours on the road delivering her to the house she shared with Heidi. Worry about Angel slipping away had driven that decision.

Women would put him in an early grave.

“Sorry to screw up your evening,” Trish whispered with a slur. The anguish in her upturned face told him he’d hit a nerve with his black mood.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his sister, especially in her present condition. He shouldn’t take his aggravation out on her. But keeping her out of trouble and unharmed became tougher each week. Every trip he made out of town meant he might be gone when she needed him there to save her.

She had no one but him.

He owed her for all she’d been denied, and for leaving her to go into the Air Force when she’d needed him. He was convinced he could’ve prevented her downfall if he’d been here.

As the first born and only child his parents really wanted, he’d gotten everything. Trish had been ignored, thrown nothing more than leftovers. Growing up, he’d rarely seen his parents himself, but at least they hadn’t blatantly avoided him the way they had their late-in-life daughter.

He was angry all right, with everybody, including himself.

Angel walked tentatively into the living room from the bathroom hallway. Jazz music playing low seeped into the room from speakers hidden in the corners.

His red T-shirt hung on her like an oversize nightgown. Angel must have dug it out of the clean laundry and showered.

Her hair was damp. The smell of soap and shampoo was going to drive him crazy for the rest of his life if he lost her. Drained from dealing with Trish, his brain teetered between behaving responsibly and the desire to strip Angel bare in the shower.

Trish weaved in place.
“I ‘
pologized
to Zane, so I’ll ‘
pologize
to you, Angel.
Sorry.”

Angel shot him a questioning look.

He fought the urge to tape his sister’s mouth shut. Zane loved his sister, but he’d like one night of peace and quiet. One night he wasn’t reminded
of all the bad things that had happened to Trish.

“I asked him to take me home, but
noooo
,” Trish said. “I’ll bunk somewhere ...
outta
the way.”

Zane rubbed his neck. “You can have the fold-out. Angel’s in the bedroom. I’ll find another spot.”

Trish gave him a strange look. She was clearly surprised that he and Angel were not sleeping together.

“Absolutely not,” Angel stated. “I hardly use up a third of that king sized bed. Trish can sleep in there, too.” 

“You sure?”
Trish said, her confused gaze flicking between the two of them.

Zane gave Trish a don’t-go-there look he’d given her plenty of times in the past.

Trish shrugged. “Going to change and hit the sack then.”  She gave them each another look then hugged her brother and said, “Love you.
So, so sorry.
Promise not to be a pain again.”

His throat tightened. She was good as gold and he’d crawl through broken glass for her. Trish hadn’t really done anything wrong, hadn’t slipped much in months, but she needed to be in a program and needed his support. Heidi had been Trish’s sponsor once in the past, but Zane couldn’t leave this for Heidi to handle alone. He hugged her. “Love you, too. Don’t mind me.”

“You need a vacation,” Trish whispered.
“With someone like Angel.
Do a world of good for what ails you.”

He squeezed her. “Goodnight.”

Trish turned to Angel and tottered over to give her a hug. Zane warmed at the surprise on Angel’s face that softened into a look of genuine caring. Again, he wondered about the woman who never left his thoughts. Where did she come from? Who was her family?

Who wants to kill her?

When Trish tripped down the hall and closed the bedroom door, Zane explained, “I called Heidi back and told her I’d just bring Trish here for the night.”

“I’m glad you did.”

That didn’t sound good. Was Angel worried he’d push her to finish what they’d started?

Having Trish here
would
ensure he kept his hands off Angel.
Dammit
.

Zane stretched the stiff muscles of his neck. “Want something to drink?”

“Sounds good.
I’m going to get my things off the bed and make sure Trish is set. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Zane trudged to the kitchen and carried a cold bottle of water to the patio. A beer normally tasted good on a hot evening, but after watching Trish tonight he didn’t have the taste for one.

He left the outside lights off intentionally and navigated by the glow from the lamp inside. A soft breeze dispelled some of the humidity. Weather in South Florida reminded him of visiting the coast in Galveston.

He’d loved Texas, but couldn’t stay there with the memories. Besides he’d needed a new home for Trish and somewhere to work where he wasn’t known by half the city. Being a third generation son of the reputed Jackson Oil dynasty had its pros and cons. Zane couldn’t buy a cup of coffee without some reporter making news out of whether he drank it alone or not.

Everyone had expected him to sign on as a company man once he’d returned from the military. He’d surprised his extended relatives and the city when he turned his back on Texas for Florida. Ben had already met Kerry and settled here. At the time, moving Trish to Ft. Lauderdale, hanging with his best friend and flying charters seemed like a hell of a plan.

He’d gotten busy – and successful – fast because of his willingness to fly when others wouldn’t. Then the informant gig had come along, complete with an unusually large electronic transfer from a DEA cover business into his bank account to pay off his loan on the Titan. That had been a relief for certain, but worrying about Trish and keeping up with his business were starting to wear him down.

And he still didn’t know if he had the High Vision contract the DEA was after. He expected more tests like the CFO’s fancy dog drop. If so, those tests would have to come this weekend, during the last few days of the performance period for the bids.

Damn. The waiting sucked up every drop of patience he possessed. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t keep his hands off of Angel – too much untapped energy.

Liar.
The truth stared him in the face, whether he wanted to put it into words or not. Just thinking about her vanishing from his life scared him to his toes.

He was in love with her.

For the good of his own self-respect, he’d walked away from the easy ride his parents’ money could have given him and joined the Air Force.
For his sister, he’d turned his back on a career as an officer and a pilot. A job nobody walked away from willingly – at least not in one piece.

What did he think he was going to do now?

Chuck all his responsibilities to help a strange woman who
still
might be a criminal?

No matter which way he went, he hit walls. He couldn’t risk losing the High Vision contract or the money for Trish he got from the DEA, but neither could he let Angel face a threat alone.

He didn’t even know her whole name, where she came from, or how she’d spent her life until now.

He didn’t know what she ate besides pizza.

What he did know was how his insides flip flopped when she walked into a room. How she could look at him as if she believed
he
slayed
dragons and make him want to go hunt one down for her.

He had it bad. This had all the earmarks of a critical mission that was doomed from the start.

A soft shuffling brought Zane from his mental meandering. Wisps of Angel’s hair floated softly about her shoulders as she settled in a chair across from him. He understood her need for distance, but ached with the desire to hold her.

“What’s Trish’s story?” she asked quietly.

Zane leaned forward in his chair with his hands on the patio table. For too many years to count, he’d defended Trish against his parents’ criticisms and nasty comments from relatives who didn’t understand when Trish acted out. Time and guilt had developed Zane’s hair trigger about anything regarding Trish. But Angel hadn’t accused or passed judgment. She sounded sincerely interested.

“Trish is getting a late start in life,” Zane said.
“My fault.”

“Why is it your fault?”

“I deserted her along with everyone else when I went in the military. I could see my parents felt burdened with an unwanted child, but I was eighteen and too caught up in what I wanted to notice the damage being done to Trish.”  Zane clenched his hand into a fist,
then
forced himself to relax it, spreading his fingers across the table.

Angel leaned forward and laid her hand over his. A simple touch that said she understood while she waited for him to go on.

“When our parents were killed, they left an inheritance with stipulations.” He didn’t give a rat’s ass about money or wills, and hated what this one had done to his sister. “Trish knows I’ll take care of her and
share everything I have, but that didn’t change what they did to her.”  He hung his head, recalling the agony and the guilt for the way his parents had dealt Trish a final blow.

“What your parents did?”

Unwanted memories flooded back. Zane paused to consider the damage a piece of paper could inflict. “Yes. They died and then they gutted her with words – or more the lack of words. I’ll never forget her face at the reading of the will.” 

“They left her
out
of the will?”  

“Oh, yes. Everything went to me, the golden boy, and not until I reach forty, which won’t be for a few years.
Nothing to Trish, not even a fare-thee-well.
She was young and didn’t understand the cold logic our parents had used. They thought I’d invest the funds where Trish would only squander money.”  He’d read those papers over and over again, sure they’d left her something, even a token amount, that proved she was just as much their child as he was.

Angel lifted his hand in her two slender ones. Her compassionate touch drew away some of his pain.

Zane glanced up to see the sadness in his soul reflected in her face. “I tried to tell Trish that our parents would have changed the will once she was an adult, and that their intention had been for me to watch out for her. That didn’t erase the hurt. It wasn’t about the money. Trish just needed to hear her name mentioned, to know she counted.”

“I’m sorry for both of you,” Angel whispered, her voice heavy with understanding. “But you can’t blame yourself,” she soothed. “Your parents deserted her. You didn’t. She idolizes you. And I see the strength adversity has given her. She’s much tougher than you think.”

He’d like to think so, but Angel hadn’t seen how far Trish had fallen after the reading of the will.
Hadn’t seen her in the hospital half dead.
She’d come so far since then, but in the past few months, he’d sensed he was losing her again. He was afraid if he blinked he’d open his eyes and she’d be too far gone to save. “I didn’t realize until after the will that she’d known for a while that she was an unwanted surprise. The will just hammered it home. That’s when Trish took a downturn. She started drinking. Then some scumbag got her on coke.” 

The vision of her in a scumbag hotel, being beaten would forever be stuck in his head. He shook it off and said, “She tried AA in Houston. Worked for a while, but she didn’t stick with it. She’s been doing okay here.”  Oh, sure. Talk about denial. “But I’m blowing it being gone on
such a crazy schedule.”

“You’re a good brother. Trish is very lucky. I wish I’d had a sibling.”

Angel hadn’t given him the usual platitudes about how Trish was young and would bounce back. With reminding him he was fortunate to have a sibling, Angel had unintentionally given him a tiny piece to the puzzle of her background.

She was an only child.

He’d had enough of dissecting his screwed up life. “Where are your parents?”“My mother’s dead.
Died when I was twelve.”
  She said that with a finality that stopped him from asking more.

Neither spoke for a while as the ocean’s surf stirred against the shore. Zane felt Angel’s fingers stroke over his hand. When was the last time anyone had comforted
him
? A vague memory of being held as a small child came to mind, but nothing since then.

Her depth of caring for others, in the face of her own immense problems, humbled him. 

He was a fool to want this woman so much he ached, but he longed to hold her. Just to feel her in his arms.

After a bit, she moved her hands away and stood. “Think I’ll turn in. We can talk tomorrow. Don’t worry about Trish. I’ll watch over her tonight.”  She’d stepped back to the glass doors.