by Dianna Love
Angel felt she owed it to Zane to speak up on his behalf. She knew that Trish was completely loyal to Zane, but he wouldn’t want his sister worrying. “From what I’ve seen, he’s doing a great job of building Black Jack Airlines. Look at today. He’s flying on a holiday weekend.”
“My point exactly. Who needs something flown at the last minute on a holiday weekend that’s not a medical emergency?” Trish shrugged again. Preoccupied with the squiggles and boxes she was drawing, she mumbled, “I don’t know. You have to be around for a while to see it the way I do, but it doesn’t matter. He’s the best man to ever come out of the Jackson bloodline.
“Jackson bloodline?” Angel queried. “Who’s that?”
“Us.” Trish slowly lowered her mug and stared.
“Are you saying Zane’s last name is not Black?” Angel’s temple pounded. She waited to hear a simple explanation, that Black was a middle name or a nickname or Zane had changed his name.
“Ah, I see what happened.” Trish visibly relaxed, then continued, “You misunderstood. The name of his company is Black Jack.”
Angel hadn’t misunderstood. Zane had introduced himself as Zane Black. She remained silent while Trish mused in a curious tone.
“I suppose Jack is short for Jackson or maybe he named the business Black Jack because he’s always been good at cards. He never said why he named it that, but I didn’t ask.” She took a sip from her mug and grinned, Zane’s grin. “Anyhow, now you know. Our last name is Jackson, but if you called him Zane Black in front of someone he wouldn’t have corrected you. He’s too nice to embarrass you.”
Too nice or too sly. Which was the apt description?
Angel fought the urge to pound on the counter top.
He’d misled her from the beginning.
Why would he use an alias last name? Her heart started beating double time. She began to understand why Trish interpreted her brother’s activities as mysterious.
That’s because Trish would never make the leap to think of her brother as a true criminal. Not that Angel could blame her because she couldn’t think of Zane that way either.
She’d heard enough. Curiosity would serve no purpose but to waste time and right now it was time to go. The minute Angel pushed Trish out the door, she was gone, too.
But she had to get Trish out of here first. Zane might have dark secrets, but he cared about his sister and had trusted Angel to make sure Trish was passed off safely to Heidi.
A whine from the laundry room announced the spin cycle on the washing machine. Trish had changed to fresh clothes from the ones stored in Zane’s closet, opting to wash the smelly ones from the night before while she waited on Heidi.
Thunder rumbled, and rain didn’t sound as though it would let up anytime soon.
Snagging the receiver from the wall phone, Trish switched topics as she dialed with more vigor than before. “Heidi should be home with this crummy weather. Wish she’d left the answering machine on. I’d take the bus, but I left my pass somewhere.”
If Heidi showed up soon, Angel might leave with them after all. First she’d have to come up with a viable reason for wanting to be taken to the beach and dropped near the marina. No one would believe she wanted to go for a run in this downpour.
She could barely hear herself think over the noise of the rain pounding the building.
“Still can’t find her,” Trish complained, hanging up the phone.
Angel wished she had enough money to offer Trish bus fare, but she’d need every penny of her pitiful resources once she found the coins and left.
Thunder boomed loud enough to shake the windows this time.
Trish had walked over to the refrigerator and paused in opening the door. “Hear that wind? Sounds like the patio door is open.”
“Can’t be. I closed it and locked it.” Angel hadn’t put the metal bar in the slot that stopped the door from sliding open, but the security alarm was on and it was daytime. She’d secure everything in the apartment before she left.
The lights went out in the kitchen.
Trish closed the refrigerator. “Crap. I hate the dark.”
“Not a problem,” Angel said, getting up. “I saw some candles and matches in the living room. Sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Angel jumped from her stool and ran into the living room just as sheets of rain started blowing sideways outside.
She’d made two steps into the darkened room, barely lit by the dim daylight from the patio, when a black-clothed figure stepped through the open glass door.
Panic iced her insides. She couldn’t breathe, paralyzed by disbelief.
The intruder lifted cold, steel-gray eyes to hers. A face more evil than Mason’s stared at her from less than twenty feet away for only a second.
He moved forward faster than she’d imagined possible for anyone that huge.
That triggered her fight or flight reaction. Angel streaked for the hallway, thinking she wouldn’t reach the front door and unlock it fast enough. He flew around the sofa, hard on her heels. A concrete hand shoved into Angel’s back, knocking her to the floor. She felt the blow in her ribs and rolled in pain, determined to keep moving.
“Sugar, that’s some storm brew – ”
Trish’s words ended on a scream.
The attacker had snatched Angel up by the hair. White hot pain daggered her skull when he wrenched around, cursing. Tears spilled from Angel’s eyes. She pushed up to her knees and yelled, “Run, Trish!”
He let go of her hair.
Trish screamed again.
Angel shot up as the giant turned on Trish.
Face deathly white, and mouth and eyes stretched wide open in horror, Trish backed away on shaky steps.
When her attacker took a step toward Trish, Angel leaped up and landed on his back. She clutched at his face, gouging his eyes with her fingers. “Run, Trish, go, go, gooooo!”
The beast she rode snarled a vicious noise.
As he bent forward, huge fingers locked on Angel’s forearms with a gorilla grip and snatched her over his head. She landed hard. Her back smashed against the floor between him and Trish. The blow knocked the air from her lungs. She wheezed, struggling for breath.
The front door banged open in the distance.
Vision watery, Angel watched her attacker’s polished bald head snap up at the sound.
He raised a foot to step over her.
She bent a leg and shoved her foot up into his groin with everything she had.
He howled, “Fuuucckkk!” and fell to one knee. He made a sound like a wounded beast.
She rolled over, every move demanding air she couldn’t pull in. She struggled to her feet.
The door stood open. Thank God.
She lunged forward, and almost made it.
He yanked her by the hair again. Her head snapped back, stars flashed in her vision. Could she hold him off long enough for Trish to get away?
He swung her around like a doll on a string and plowed a steel fist into her jaw.
Help!
Trish?
Zane?
Pain faded away. She sank into a black void.
Chapter 37
Zane paced the waiting area inside the terminal at the regional airport he’d flown into. The stale smell of greasy fast food creeping out of the waste can in the corner irritated him, but not as much as this hold up. He should have received the High Vision shipment an hour ago.
Something had gone wrong.
A paper glitch? Probably the damn storm. Computers could be down with this weather.
He’d made it out of Ft. Lauderdale ahead of the incoming squall ripping off the ocean, only to land in a wicked thunderstorm. A low pressure system he hoped would not turn into a hurricane.
But his gut was telling him the weather and computers weren’t to blame. He’d left one message for dispatch that hadn’t been returned yet.
Zane phoned his apartment again while he waited on Sammy to call and explain what was goin
g on with the shipment. His home phone rang six, seven, eight times.
He jammed the off button. It was barely after eight in the morning. Where the hell were Angel and Trish? He hoped Angel hadn’t left the apartment. She’d promised to be careful.
What about those coins she was searching for? Was she at the marina, going through his boat now?
His phone lit up with a text. He thumbed the button for the display and read: High Vision will no longer need your services.
What the hell? He punched the numbers for the dispatcher. When Sammy answered, Zane demanded, “What’s going on? I flew through a tropical depression to be here on time. No one’s shown with the shipment.”
“You should have received a text.”
“I got some bullshit message about not needing my services. What’s with that?”
“I don’t know. I only coordinate shipments.”
“Oh, come on, Sammy. I’ve been working with you for months. I’ve gone above and beyond. Tell me something, dammit.”
Sammy’s low grumble came through the lines. “Okay, but I’m not at liberty to say much and even if I could, I don’t know squat. From what I hear, local authorities and harbor patrol are all over the ship and our containers.”
What. The. Hell? Wouldn’t Ben and Vance know about this? Zane wasn’t hanging up without clarification on not needing his services.
Just today or not anymore?
Sammy cut into his thoughts. “I hear the front blowing into Miami is picking up steam. You may want to get rolling or find somewhere to hole up overnight. From the weather report I got, I doubt anyone can fly back in this mess.”
Zane didn’t want a weather report and knew when he was getting blown off. “Is High Vision cutting me loose?”
The silence that answered Zane churned the nausea building in his gut.
Sammy finally said, “All I know is High Vision goes apeshit over anything like this. There’ll be an internal investigation and only a few people even knew about this shipment today. Shit runs downhill and right now you’re at the low end of the pipeline. Don’t call the office. If they want anything, they’ll call you.”
In other words, yes, you are cut loose, Zane.
Shit! He pulled back his foot to kick the cheap wall paneling and stopped before he destroyed someone else’s property. “Gotta go,” Sammy said and the line died.
Zane pulled the phone away and stared at it. All his hard work, all the insane flying and sacrifices he’d made to get this contract just did a nosedive into the sewer.
He clutched his forehead, trying to hold back the headache wanting to explode. What the hell had happened? Fuck it. He was not staying here another minute.
Screw the weather.
He headed for his airplane. His cell phone rang. The ID was his home phone number. Maybe Trish was still asleep and Angel had been in the shower.
Relief took the edge off his frustration, but he still couldn’t help his rough tone. “Angel?”
“No, it’s Heidi. I’m at your apartment. We’ve got a problem.” Her frantic voice made that clear.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Fear hammered his chest, his mind jumping to every bad scenario possible.
“When I got here, your front door was wide open and nobody’s here.”
“Nobody?” he shouted. He hadn’t considered that scenario.
“No. I forgot to leave the answering machine on. I don’t know where Trish is, but she said she’d lost her bus pass last night.” Heidi’s normally high-pitched, calm voice reached the squeaky stage when she got upset. “Your front door and patio doors were wide open.”
“Listen to me, Heidi.” He started running to his Titan. “I’m on my way back from Jacksonville right now. Get out of the apartment.”
“Do you want me to call the police?”
“No.” He didn’t want anyone there until he’d had a chance to check it out himself before anyone contaminated the scene. The police might not agree, but they would only look at it like a break-in at this point. They wouldn’t go after Trish or Angel for twenty-four hours.
Heidi argued, “I don’t want to leave in case Trish comes back. I’m worried about her.”
“I am, too, but until I get there and figure out what happened, I don’t want you in the apartment. It might not be safe. If you want to wait, stay in your car. Leave immediately if anyone strange shows up. Got it?”
“Okay. I’ll wait outside until you get here.”
His worst nightmare had come to life.
Chapter 38
Air. Angel needed air. Her chest wouldn’t expand for a simple breath. She was going to suffocate.
She could hear a deep rumbling noise. Thunder. Her clothes hung heavy on her body, soaked. She opened one eye.
Black pavement shined under a veil of water. She faced down, but she was moving. Raindrops beat across her back. Water ran around her neck, across her throbbing face and into her eyes. Hair hung around her face, slapping her outstretched arms as she bounced.
Someone had an arm hooked around her legs, carrying her fireman style across his shoulder. She pushed against the rock-hard back, desperate to give her chest room for air.
“Be still.” The rough order left no room for argument.
“I ... can’t ... breath.” She squeezed the words past her sore jaw.
He shoved her higher on his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a child. She pulled in a deep breath. Her head throbbed, nausea threatened.
Everything started coming back to her. The black-clothed figure standing inside Zane’s patio doors. The intruder attacked her ... in the apartment.
With Trish. Did Zane’s sister get away?
Please, God, don’t let Trish be hurt. That would kill Zane.
The thought of Zane brought tears to her eyes. She was beyond miserable physically, but now the emotional torture of never seeing him again set in. That’s what she got for letting her guard down, getting comfortable.
Opening her heart to a man.
The bouncing stopped. Keys jingled. Then a car door opened. He slid her down in front of him, picked her up, and pitched her onto the backseat of a huge sport utility. What was it about thugs and big, dark SUVs?
Guess a white minivan just didn’t get the job done when it came to the fear factor.
She tried to push herself up on her elbows.
Either he moved with amazing speed or she was sluggish from the battering. Frigid gray eyes hovered over her. His noxious cologne and sweaty masculine odor accosted her.
A black gun handle protruded from the waistband of his pants.
With his left hand, he reached over the seat into the rear cargo area.
She breathed in shallow pants, anxious at what he’d do next.
Fighting him would only get her injured worse, but he’d think he had a crazed animal in this car if he tried to rape her.
He glanced at the rear area, his arm moving as though he had opened something. When his gaze sliced to her again, a nasty smile spread across his face.
Goose bumps pebbled along her arms.
Shifting his body support to his knees, he slid his right hand across the front of her shirt.
She sank backwards deep into the seat, moving away from his touch. He squeezed one breast as if to gauge her cup size then moved his hand under her neck.
Waiting to see if he would do worse than grope her, she shivered in revulsion.
He misunderstood her reaction.
“That’s better. I like my women more agreeable than you were earlier.”
His coarse voice drove terror through her. Her mind shifted from fear of Mason to a new threat. Maybe this man had no connection to Mason. There were hundreds of mega-sized sport utility vehicles in the country. Maybe he was just a sexual predator.
Just a sexual predator?
She’d spent too much time around Mason to downgrade a deviant like this one.
Her fear climbed higher every second he hovered over her. The giant had her p
inned to the seat. Fighting a bulldozer would be easier. Muscles bulged in his left arm as he raised his hand from the cargo area behind the seat.
Waves of panic shot through her. All the survival training in the world wouldn’t save her from this creep.
Angel sucked in a breath and opened her mouth to scream for help.
He slapped a damp cloth over her face, forcing her to breathe deeply of the acrid smell.
She flinched, then everything went black again.
Chapter 39
Zane slammed on brakes in front of his apartment. He’d battled weather all the way back, but he couldn’t attribute sweaty palms to the vicious weather he’d confronted. Flying into a tropical depression didn’t compare with the sick fear something had happened to both Angel and his sister.
Heidi’s ancient, lime-green Volkswagen bug sat in the lot. Empty.
Damn. Couldn’t at least one woman he knew follow directions?
Rain soaked his shirt by the time he’d raced around the corner and flung open his unlocked front door.
Heidi jumped up from the sofa, her spiked hair wilder than normal. “Am I ever glad to see you,” she declared.
“You shouldn’t have waited in here, Heidi. It wasn’t safe.”
“But, Zane – ”
“I don’t even know what happened to them. You could have been hurt,” he blazed on.
“But, Zane, you don’t understand – ”
“Yes, I do.”
“No you don’t, Sugar.”
Zane spun to his left. A pale Trish emerged from the bathroom, tears streaming down her face.
She ran to him. Zane clutched her shaking frame. Thank God she was safe.
Trish sobbed against his chest, oblivious to his wet clothes.
“Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice strained.
“I’m okay.” She hiccupped between sobs. “It’s Angel.”
“What happened?” He hadn’t meant to snap, but worry for Angel now took front and center.
“I’m so sorry,” Trish wailed. “I couldn’t help her. I tried, but I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there until she told me to run.” Another sob escaped.
