Last Chance To Run (7 page)

Chapter 9

If the coins have been discovered in the package of boat curtains, the FBI will be waiting for me.

Angel gripped her knee to keep it from bouncing up and down, glad not to have someone in the seat next to her. How could it be Thursday? Over a full day had passed since she’d abandoned the coins and Zane. Her gaze strayed to Ft. Lauderdale’s palm trees, concrete-block houses and the occasional plastic pink flamingo flying past her window on the Broward County Transit bus.

Maybe Zane hadn’t delivered the boat curtains yet or maybe the boat owner was waiting to install them over the holiday weekend. 

She clutched the edge of her seat.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.

There was the word again.

With her rotten luck, the boat owner was installing the curtains right now, to have his boat ready
for
the holiday weekend.

Worry had rolled around in her stomach until it felt like a lead ball with spikes. Sleep had been sporadic at best on the bus ride down the length of Florida.

She pressed her face to the window where one souvenir shop after another, each decorated with giant seashells and water floats, dotted the beach scene.

Nothing like New York where she’d been a courier.

A job she wouldn’t take again even if cleaning toilets was her only other option.

That wasn’t exactly true. She’d enjoyed courier service, especially given the added bonus of constantly training.

But one delivery had ended everything.

To be fair, it hadn’t been the delivery so much as blind trust in a man.
Her father.

When the bus turned away from the beach and the street signs Angel had been watching for came into view, she straightened in her seat. Rolling up the cuffs of her long-sleeved white blouse, she leaned forward and tucked her shirttail into the faded jeans she’d found in a salvage store near the pawnshop. Her running shorts and T-shirt were stuffed inside a linen shoulder bag along with the ball cap.

She’d twisted her hair up and stuffed it under a floppy hat. Sunglasses finished her disguise, covering half of her face. She could pass for an incognito celebrity on a tight budget.

The bus rolled to a stop just past the cross street she’d been anticipating.

Angel descended the metal steps quickly and jogged away at a subtle pace, feeling better than she had a day ago even if she wasn’t fully rested. Using directions given to her at the downtown bus terminal, she located the marina with no trouble. Her shirt had stuck to her back, soaked with moisture from the thick humidity, by the time she passed through the Gulf Winds Marina entrance.

No one paid her any attention.

Floridians definitely had an easygoing attitude.

Small white signs above each dock listed the slip numbers. The second one read “11-20.” 

To avoid being caught by Mason’s men watching the bus stations, she’d thumbed rides with truckers who’d been kind enough to call from one to the next after the first one gave her a ride outside of Jacksonville. She’d arrived before dawn in Ft. Lauderdale where she’d found a place to grab a catnap, then scouted out the local city bus system and schedules only to get lost switching buses.

After all that, she deserved a moment of pride at standing in front of the dock for slip eighteen.

Now tell me the package with my coins has not been opened yet.

For the benefit of anyone watching, she strolled casually down the weathered planks when she wanted to run. Most of the slips held twenty-to-thirty-foot-long boats backed up under the covered docks.

A copper-tanned young man dressed only in a pair of cutoffs scrubbed a boat named
Wet Dream
moored in slip seventeen.

A snow-white, center-console fishing boat, outfitted with impressive tackle, floated silently in slip nineteen.

Two seagulls paddled through the middle of slip eighteen.

No boat.
Really?

Now what? Turning to the guy still laboring on
Wet Dream
she called over, “Excuse me.”

He dropped the scrub brush and ambled to the rear of the boat.
“Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you know who owns the boat that stays in slip eighteen?”

“No, ma’am.”

She waited for him to offer more than a charming smile, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. This was a little too laid back.

“Do you know the
name
of the boat that belongs here?” she asked.

“Can’t say.
That slip’s been empty for three months. Heard someone just rented it, but the boat hasn’t shown up yet.”

The package had been addressed to the Security Office for the marina, which now made sense. The boat hadn’t arrived.

“I noticed the Security Office was closed when I passed it on the way in. Have any idea when it will be open?”

“Yes, ma’am.
Soon as I finish cleaning this boat, I’ll be back up there.”

Going through the tiny office shouldn’t take long.

She smiled.

He grinned with apparent satisfaction over having given her the right answer.

Angel saw the advantage in being female for a change. “Well, you’ll save me some time. My company sent a package of boat curtains marked for Slip 18 in error. I’m supposed to make sure it arrives at the correct boat. Would you mind if I checked to see if you have that package?”  She held her breath, waiting on him to ask the obvious questions starting with identification, what boat it was intended for, and on and on. She had no idea what she’d say next, but somehow she’d gain access to that office.

The guy didn’t ask her the first question, just shook his head and said, “I’ll save you a lot of time. We haven’t had a delivery like that all week.”

Damn. Where was that package? 

A possibility popped into her mind.

“Do you know where Sunshine Airfield is?” she asked.

He smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter 10

By late afternoon Thursday, Zane had to accept the obvious no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

Angel had to be tangled up in something criminal.

He’d spent another night on the Internet, looking for anything on a missing woman from Raleigh who matched Angel’s description. That meant the men tracking her didn’t need, or want, law enforcement involved.

And she’d sure as hell avoided the law. Why?

He wheeled his truck into Sunshine Airfield ready to unleash his frustration on someone. On top of what should have been two hours of errands turning into four, Ben had called just after daylight with the first bad news to kick off Zane’s day. The partial prints Ben had been able to pull from the gold compass had not been enough for a database search, and Zane owed him a bottle of Jack Daniels for the wasted night of work.

As Zane drew near the whitewashed, single-story office building that served as the terminal, he slowed to speak with a leather-faced elderly man who stepped from the office door.

Rolling down the window on his truck, Zane forced civility back into his tone. He liked the old guy and managed to smile when he called out, “
Hola
, Salvador
.”

Salvador’s sole purpose in life these days was to make coffee in the airfield office and offer a game of checkers to anyone willing to be beaten by the wily opponent. Long since retired from managing the terminal, he was unwilling to abandon the airport entirely.

“
Buenos
dias
,
Señor
Jackson
.”

Zane chatted amiably in Spanish with Salvador about the airport activities of the past few weeks. Zane kept his language skills sharp though he used them sparingly. It was amazing what someone would say when they thought you couldn’t understand their language. Vance and Ben had made good use of a few tidbits Zane had gotten in just that way.

Talking to Salvador reminded him he would be in hot water with Suarez, a client waiting on two packages. In a hurry to get the cup with Angel’s print back to Ben, Zane had stayed in Jacksonville only long enough to pick up Suarez’s first package when he learned the second one had been delayed in customs.

Suarez had been more trouble than the money was worth and every shipment turned into a pain in the ass, but he was a client and Zane tried his best to make the man happy.

With a nod goodbye, Zane moved on to the last building. The overhead door to his hangar stood wide-open, allowing access to anyone, but he had no worries. His mechanic was bent over the Titan, working neck-deep on the scheduled service required before Zane could fly again.

As he strolled by, the mechanic had his head down looking for something and talking ... to himself? No, he had a Bluetooth receiver hooked on his ear. He lifted a finger off his flashlight in acknowledgement and turned as though to stop what he was doing. Zane waved him off and headed through the hangar and down a short hall to the storage room. He needed a stack of rags to replace the ones he’d used cleaning up the damn fingerprint powder yesterday.

Just as he reached for the door, a crinkling sound on the other side stayed his hand. Had a cat or raccoon gotten in there? A cat wasn’t a problem, but he wanted no part of a cornered raccoon.

Rotating the handle slowly, he eased the door ajar and peered inside.

No wild animal. At least he didn’t think so.

A fine-looking derriere, covered by a pair of faded jeans, was stuck up in the air in full view.

Bent over at the waist, the denim-clad owner inspected a large package on the floor.

Zane’s gaze skimmed down to the yellow running shoes.

It couldn’t be.

Chapter 11

Where
is that
blasted package?

Angel leaned down to read the label on another odd-shaped box. Assorted shipping containers and mechanical parts covered every inch of the disorganized storage room from cluttered floor space to packed shelves.

None were addressed to the Gulf Winds Marina.

She lifted her hands to her hips as she straightened up.

Iron fingers locked around her wrists, snatching her hands behind her.

“Oh, oh ... no.”
  She wrenched around to see who held her prisoner and came face-to-face with the pilot who’d saved her. Staring up into his narrowed gaze, every coherent thought fled her mind.

“Nice to see you again, Angel.”  Rich brown eyes walked up and down her. He’d said her name with just enough edge to sound mocking as if he’d just figured out she was anything but. “The Annie Hall look’s different.
Incognito?”
 

His warm demeanor from the day before was gone. His eyes now flashed stormy-dark. Just as angry looking as he sounded.

She dropped her head down and her shoulders slumped from relief. He didn’t appear happy to see her again, but at least he didn’t sound as though he wanted to kill her.

Twisting around for a second glance, Angel realized she might need to revise her first impression. She was neck deep in trouble with him. They hadn’t parted in the best of circumstances. Getting back into his good graces as quickly as possible was her first mission.

“Hi. How are you?”  She lifted her eyebrows up, reaching for hopeful in her voice.

“How
am
I? As in, was the flight back smooth? Or as in, how did I get away from your buddy?”

“I’m sorry about that,” she whispered. What had Vic done after she’d left? It dawned on her later that Mason’s men never traveled alone. Had they ganged up on Zane and hurt him? “Did you have a problem with that guy?”

“Problem?”
  Heavy sarcasm laced his voice. “
Nooo
, not unless you consider having his
sidekick shove
a gun in my face a problem.” 

“Oh, God.
What happened?”

Zane shrugged. “I told them I didn’t know who you were and thought you’d had a falling-out with your boyfriend. Once you were gone, they
lost interest and let me go.”

Her luck had never been on the upswing, but right now it spiraled from bad to worse. She’d spent a large portion of her funds on clothes and bus fare. In the past twenty-eight hours, she’d had one meal and a few hours of sleep. Now she couldn’t find the blasted package hiding the coins.

If the sole person who knew where the package of boat curtains had gone handed her over to the police, she was sunk.

This would be a great time to turn on her feminine wiles, if she had any.

“I didn’t mean to leave you stuck,” she started.

“Having a hard time buying that since you
did
leave me stuck.”

Wrong tactic.
Just give him the truth and hope he’ll understand.
“What I mean is I didn’t mean to involve you in my problems. I had no idea where I was going when we left Raleigh. I didn’t know that would happen or I would have told you to let me out as soon as you landed.” 

He didn’t say a word.

She was making no headway with flyboy. “You may not believe me, but I do appreciate you getting me out of Raleigh. I thought you had that guy handled. If I’d known someone else was around, I’d have stayed to help you even if it meant getting caught. That’s the truth.”  

She took a breath and turned to see if she’d made a dent in that stern expression.

His face softened. The muscle in his jaw no longer twitched. He wouldn’t harm her, but he still might call the authorities. Between smoothing things over with this guy and figuring out what had happened to the package – without specifically asking where it was – she had her work cut out.

How had a simple plan to hide the coins gotten so screwed up?

Wrenching against his steel grasp was a waste of energy. She dug around for a sweet tone, something she hadn’t used in a long time, and implored, “Would you let go, please? You’re hurting my wrists.”

His fingers loosened immediately.

She pulled one hand free and swung around to face him.

He held onto her other wrist, giving her no chance to escape. If he knew how desperate she was to find those coins he’d realize she had no plans to take off yet. He massaged her wrist with his thumb then looked down and scowled.

What did that mean with this man?

Were they okay or did he still want to strangle her?

He muttered, “I didn’t realize how tight I held you. That’s going to make a damn bruise.”  He didn’t stop working the sting out of her skin until both wrists had been given equal attention.

No man had ever confused her so much or so often. 

Zane Black went from annoyed to caring within a heartbeat. Like the heartbeats rapidly thumping in her chest from his soothing touch. He’d touched her more in two days than any male had in the past seven years. With the exception of her one failed relationship as a teen, contact with a man had not been by her choice. Her limited experience with men amounted to being handcuffed by the police and physically abused by Mason.

No man had been gentle with her until now, or protective as Zane had been during the flight, and none had ever elicited the physical response that standing close to Zane caused.

She’d
never
been turned on by a man merely rubbing her wrists.

Chocolate cake had raised her pulse more than male interest in the past.

Cake lost hands down right now.

“Angel, why don’t you tell me what’s going on before someone gets hurt, mainly you?” 

Her heart did a small trip at his genuine concern. His intense stare roamed over her face as if searching for a way to slip past her defenses.

When he didn’t release her wrist, she took a step back, needing space to think, and bumped up against the wall. What could she say that he’d believe? Even if he accepted her story as true, he’d want to call in the police. That would hammer the final nail in her coffin. Once the authorities pulled up her record, they’d put her away forever. Against a prominent businessman like Mason, her word had less value than dirt without undeniable evidence.

She had one shot at beating this problem and remaining free, and it didn’t include local law enforcement.

Besides, with her luck, Mason would bail her out so that she’d land right back where she’d been up until two days ago.

Telling Zane anything would put him at risk, as well.

She gave him the only truth she could. “I can take care of myself. You’re better off not being involved.”

His black brows furrowed. “Why?” 

“Even if you knew, you couldn’t help me.”

He frowned, gears grinding behind those dark eyes. “Look, if this guy chasing you is an obsessive – and abusive – male, there are laws that will
protect you.”

“The police won’t take my side.”

That made him pause. His expression shuttered.

She’d made a mistake just then.

“Why?” he pressed. “If you’ve broken the law, turning yourself in would be better than being caught.”

She bristled. Had he found the coins?

No, she didn’t think so. If he had, he’d probably be calling the police right now. Still, he was beginning to remind her of the DA who’d railroaded her into jail seven years ago.

When she didn’t reply, Zane kept prodding. “How much trouble are you in?”  

Wasn’t it just like an arrogant man to make assumptions with no possibility for an “in between”?

Either she was a hunted girlfriend or a criminal.

Lack of rest and little food fueled her already testy mood and punched her frustration level to its top limit. A wise woman would calm down and sweet talk Zane, but she was sick to death of men either lying to her or assuming she’d committed a crime.

Snatching her hands away, she shoved them defiantly on her hips and leaned toward him. “If you don’t know my
story, that
makes me a criminal?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What
are
you saying? I admit I broke the law, but only when I stowed away on your airplane. I’m tired and out of patience. Just tell me. Are you going to have me arrested or not?”

“Hold it, Angel.”  He lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to help you. Don’t blow up at me.”

“Blow up? This is not blowing up. This is me trying to keep you out of harm’s way.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, muttering, “Raleigh’s my problem, not yours. Can’t you leave it at that?”

Zane stepped forward and slapped his hands on the wall at each side of her head. He leaned down, eyes sparking with anger simmering just beneath the surface. “No.”

She lost her ability to think the minute his heat surrounded her. “Why ... not?” came out murmured on a soft exhale.

He didn’t answer at first, as though struggling to decide something. “Because I’m afraid something will happen to you.”

“You don’t even know me.”  She hadn’t said that with any conviction.

“I know enough.”  He lowered a hand to her neck. His fingers gently brushed the sensitive skin.

She shivered.
Licked her lips.
And felt her nipples harden.

He stilled. All sign of anger was gone, shoved aside by something far more dangerous.
Desire.
His nostrils flared.

He leaned a little closer, his gaze holding hers as if some invisible power had locked their eyes together. His lips were a breath away, close enough to kiss her.

Her next breath came out fast and raspy. She must be losing her mind, because she wanted that kiss.

“Excuse me,
Señor
.”

At hearing someone else in the room, she and Zane bumped as they jumped apart to face the open door. One step inside the room stood a handsome Latin man of average height, wearing a smart fawn-colored suit with an eggshell silk shirt open at the collar.

His eyes twinkled when he smiled at her then he spoke to Zane.
“
I am here for my shipment.”

Zane’s dark mood flipped to jovial.
“Mr. Suarez, nice to see you.
We were just going over the inventory log.”

Angel lifted an eyebrow at that blatant lie, but held her peace. She’d stowed away on the man’s plane, left him dealing with Vic, and broken into his storage room. The least she owed him was to play along.

Lifting his shoulders in a quick shrug, Zane continued in an apologetic tone. “Only one box came through customs before I left Jacksonville.”

Mr. Suarez’s smile fell.
“But why?
We discussed this before you left.”  His language switched into a rapid litany of angry Spanish.

She stood silently while Mr. Suarez ranted that this was the third time Zane had failed to deliver, that Zane was inept and Suarez was ready to sever ties with Black Jack Charters altogether.

She glanced up at Zane’s placid face.

God love him, he didn’t understand a word.

But a person didn’t have to be fluent in Spanish to realize Suarez was very angry. She elbowed Zane who flashed
her an
innocent look of
what
?

Mr. Suarez fell silent, evidently waiting for an explanation. She nudged Zane again. This time he must have taken the hint.

“What can I say? I didn’t get the box.”  Zane shrugged again.

That was it? He might be a crack pilot, but Zane was sorely lacking in people skills. Since he’d helped her, the least she could do was return the favor.

Angel offered his client a smile then responded in Spanish, telling him, “
Mr. Suarez, please forgive my friend. He is an exceptional pilot, but a little rough around the edges. Unfortunately basic business skills were not required to get a pilot’s license.”
 

Had Zane just kicked her? She narrowed her eyes at him.

He lifted both eyebrows like
hmm
?

Suarez’s lips lifted a tiny bit, but he gave no indication his temper had completely cooled, so she continued appeasing him in his language.

“You are very understanding with Mr. Black’s shortcomings and we really appreciate your patience. If you’ll give us a chance to correct the problem, he’ll check into this matter and get back with you once he has answers on your missing package.”

She finished with,
“Please accept our sincere apology. You and your business mean a great deal
to
Black Jack Airlines.”
 

Suarez returned her smile with a sensational one. The man oozed European aristocratic elegance. He stepped forward when she offered a hand to shake, but lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.