Alex’s face flushed and anger sparked for a moment in her eyes until she regained control by placing her hands on her hips and hanging her head.
Jake waited for her response.
“What can I do to show you I’m on the up-and-up with you?” Her words, sharp and filled with irritation, pleased him to no end. He’d made his point. She had to rein in her ambition. Otherwise, she wouldn’t lead this march to the good side.
“I want a copy of all the evidence the locals have gathered on the old man’s death including what’s in the autopsy.” He sensed, more than saw, Angel shift where she stood near the nightstand. Satisfaction spread across his body. She had probably hoped he’d left the gun there. With his hand in his pocket, he squeezed the gun’s grip, being sure his finger stayed off the trigger. When he looked at her, she pleaded with her eyes, and it struck him hard. No one had questioned her grandfather’s death. “And the same for Mac’s.”
“The local boys might kick up a fuss.” When he turned his gaze to her, Alex gave in. “All right. I’ll get it to you within seventy-two hours.”
“Forty-eight or the deal is off. I’m sure the ATF would love to hear from me.” Every government agency loved to claim they smoothly collaborated with other agencies, but Jake knew better. It was human nature to want to lay claim to the kill.
“Fuck you.” The woman stepped toward Jake with murder in her eyes.
In the split second it took to pull his gun to check the agent’s movement, Angel lunged in front of him.
“Stay back,” she said in a low growl to the special agent. A wicked looking switchblade glinted in the dimly lit room. Where had Angel stashed that one? Did he need to search every piece of clothing she owned? And every orifice? For the future protection of vital appendages, he might just need to do that.
“Darlin’, you go ahead and handle this. Just don’t hurt her too bad.” He chuckled as he returned the gun to his pocket and picked up his cigarettes. With long experience, he shook the pack and pulled one out. Lifting a lighter to the cigarette tip as it hung from his mouth, he inhaled. The nicotine hit his bloodstream while he watched the women eye each other with distaste.
They were like night and day: one so uptight she surely squeaked when she walked too fast; then there was Angel, who was so different from anyone he’d ever met and different from the girl he’d known in high school. He had a feeling he’d only begun to see the many layers that made up Angel Tally.
“Fine. Forty-eight hours then. At that time, we’ll talk, and without your feral girlfriend. I never would’ve guessed you to be the type to get into that goth shit.” She looked up and down at Angel with disgust on her face. Then she spit out, “Kinky bitch.”
“Yes, I am, and proud of it.” The evil grin Angel gave the woman tugged at his cock.
The special agent stepped back when Angel growled again beneath her breath. Jake had to hold back his laughter. No one could say his soon-to-be wife didn’t have guts and a wicked sense of humor.
“You might want to remind her I’m a federal officer and can throw her ass into jail for a long time.” Resentment filled Alex’s tone.
“We’re heading back to Marystown in the morning.” Jake stretched out on the bed and took another draw. As he blew out the smoke, he added, “When you place the papers in my hand, we’ll meet up again, but on my turf.”
The special agent stiffly nodded before backing toward the door, keeping her attention on Angel’s shiny knife.
Angel waited until the door closed behind the female agent before she relaxed her shoulders and exhaled. There was something about the woman that gave her the creeps. As her brother would say, “The bitch be crazy.”
“Hand me your knife.” The deep voice came from behind her.
Deadly. That was how he sounded. The laid-back attitude gone and the stern man from earlier had returned. A shiver of need raced down her back.
She turned and looked at his hand, palm up. The calluses and the small scars were expected from how hard Whitfield had worked his sons, but the crooked middle finger...looked painful. From the swollen knuckle near the tip, his finger slanted to one side. It appeared to have been broken and not set.
With a well-practiced, one-handed move, she swiveled the lock, closed her Italian switchblade, and grabbed his wrist as she placed it in his hand. Not sure why she did it, she caressed his maltreated digit before she let go.
Seconds passed as neither said a word.
“How did you break it?” She finally ended the silence.
“Time to get a few hours of rest before we head back to Alabama.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard her question, but she knew better. She let it go. They all had secrets.
Easing onto the edge of the opposite bed, head bowed, she gripped the covers. “You swear my brother’s okay?” She looked up into his face.
“Yeah. Tick’s taking him straight to the house. He’ll be fine.” Compassion softened his features. “Get in bed.”
“Okay.” Why did she take his word for the truth? People had lied to her over and over, one of the many drawbacks of her job as a collector. But deep inside, she felt she could trust him.
She leaned down and unbuckled her boots, dropping them next to the bed before slipping beneath the sheets with her makeup and clothes on. Stripping once for him earlier had been enough, even though heat swirled over her sensitive areas as she remembered his hand slapping her buttocks, touching her in ways that had nothing to do with punishment. She’d never felt so alive.
For that matter, her life had changed from the moment she lifted the rifle and shot at the sniper during Jake’s father’s funeral.
The hiss of his cigarette being dropped into the soda can warned her before he turned off the lights.
“Scoot over.”
Angel jumped as much from his voice being so near her ear as from the touch of his warm hand on her arm.
“There’s an extra bed in here. Sleep there.” Mixed emotions shook her. She wanted him to go away and leave her alone, but at the same time, she wanted his arms around her, feeling his heat seep into her lonely, chilled body.
As if he read her mind, he slid beneath the covers and spooned her body, his arms crossing over her breasts and pulling her against him.
Oh my, his hard body felt so good. When had she felt so safe? Like never?
His hips undulated against her sensitized rear. The hardness brought an unexpected groan from her lips. He felt so good. She pushed back and rolled her hips as his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed.
“Shh, Angel. Tomorrow we’ll head back home and then I’ll arrange for you to see a doctor. Once we get you set up with birth control and cleared, we’ll marry. Then you and I are not going to leave my bed for a week.”
“Birth control and cleared?” Who in the world did he think he was? She tried to sit up but his arms held her against him. “I’m already on birth control, and I’m clean.” Mac had insisted. He didn’t want to take the chance of his investment becoming messed up by pregnancy from a rape. Yeah. That was the type of grandfather she had.
“I had a checkup recently, and I’m all good,” he said. When she remained stiff in his arms, he added, “Listen, I’m a stubborn, bossy asshole. Living with the old man taught me there’s no room for softness or uncertainty in our world. Until I get my brothers on my side, we’ll have to be careful in every aspect of our lives.” He nuzzled her neck and inhaled. She felt his hand slide down her hair. Her body turned to mush. “But I’ll protect you and your brother.”
Her chest tightened as she turned her head and stared into his eyes, checking to see if he was being truthful or playing a game. For a Whitfield to say that to a Tally, well, it was unheard of.
CHAPTER NINE
Angel rarely felt comfortable with someone else driving, but Jake was different. Maybe it had something to do with the way he carried himself or the way he held her last night. This morning, he pretended as if nothing had happened between them. Instead, after they f
reshened up, he’d ordered her into the car, not giving her an option to stay or drive or walk. She wanted to protest his bossiness but his deep voice sent goosebumps along her arms, and her nipples perked up, begging for attention.
What caused her to fold like a house of cards where Jake was concerned? This wasn’t the first time she’d been around a man who knew how to move, who felt secure in his own skin. Many of the men Mac had associated with were former military and took great care of their bodies. So if it wasn’t his looks, and she really didn’t want to think what his touch did to her. Maybe he controlled her by playing up to her greatest weakness: family obligation. He promised to protect her brother, but Jake had taken it one step further when he included her. No one had ever promised her that.
Not even Mac.
She wanted to push back the memories, but with the events of the last several hours, and with her guard down as she dozed in the soft leather seat of the Corvette, they came back with the force of a tornado.
Her transformation had begun the same afternoon after the incident in high school with Jake. When her mom picked her up, she’d cautioned Angel her granddaddy had demanded she be brought directly to his house. She’d also warned whatever punishment he doled out, she deserved it for being a slut. No one appeared to doubt Angel was guilty of lubricious behavior, and by her mom’s relieved expression, she couldn’t wait to leave her immoral daughter in someone else’s hands.
The stupid screen door squeaked as usual when she let herself in the small foyer and then the large living room. Her granddaddy stood by the fireplace, staring into the empty hearth, his back straight and hands clasped behind him. He’d always been lean and stood military stiff. She’d heard he’d served with the Marines, in some type of special unit. He never talked about it, always turning the conversation away from his past. She’d often wondered if he missed the life. He treated everyone around him as if they were lowly privates by barking orders and expecting immediate obedience.
“Sally, what do you have to say about you and that Whitfield boy?”
“He had no right to touch me there.”
Her fingers clutched at her school uniform skirt. She was afraid he’d order her to lift it to observe the damage. Her tender buttocks still tingled whenever she sat. She certainly didn’t want anyone looking down there again.
The thought of having Jake looking again flashed through her mind, bringing a flush to her face as warmth brushed her skin.
He cut his eyes over to her. “Did he hurt you?”
If she said yes, would one less Whitfield be in the world soon after? That would ensure the escalation of the long-time feud between the Whitfields and Tallys. No matter how much her ego had been bruised along with her rear end, she wanted to avoid having Jake’s death on her hands.
“No more than my pride.” Her face heated further with embarrassment. Jake had massacred her vanity and any thought of a mutual interest. Since the age of ten, she’d had a crush on him. She’d imagined they were star-crossed lovers similar to Romeo and Juliet. Only she preferred it without the dying at the end part. But now she no longer had to worry about such an ending, at least for her, for she preferred kissing a possum to ever touching Jake Whitfield.
Her granddaddy nodded, his intense gaze not leaving hers.
“Does school suit you?” he asked.
“It’s okay, I guess.” Forehead wrinkled, she hunched her shoulders. She actually hated it. The cliques and bullies made her life miserable. Her disability caused her more embarrassment than all of the taunts and insults from snobs and jocks combined.
After being left behind in one grade in elementary school, it took a kind teacher to discover she wasn’t lazy or stupid but dyslexic. Her parents had scoffed at the notion that their child had a disability and refused to spend the money on a tutor. Thankfully, with help from a big-hearted teacher, who worked with her on her own time, Sally was promoted to the next grade level and managed to stay only one year behind over the following few years, but barely.
“That settles it. Starting tomorrow you’ll begin your training. My weak, good-for-nothing son sits his ass in prison for drugs again, and your mom’s due to give birth to my grandson any day now. I can’t have you turning up pregnant. Your family needs someone making a living.” He stared at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I’m no longer putting up with bloodsuckers who don’t pull their own weight. I need a collector. It will be a hoot to turn those bastards on their ears when a female walks into their establishments to kick their asses for not paying.”
She hadn’t completely understood what he said until the next morning when she showed up after finishing her chores. He began her self-defense lessons. Yet it was more than defense. He showed her how to handle shotguns, rifles, pistols, and knives. Everything he’d learned in the Marines and elsewhere, he drilled into her over the next five years.
It was a lonely time. It was the time Granddaddy became Mac. He kept her busy whenever she wasn’t at home cleaning and babysitting her newborn brother. In some ways she’d missed school, wondering what the other kids were learning. Of course, she didn’t miss the bullies, though she didn’t worry about seeing them elsewhere. She could easily teach them a lesson if they dared pick on her and her brother. Of course, within months of leaving school, the rumor about Jake raping her and then later about her little brother actually being their child spread like the flu throughout school and the small town. She knew if she denied the lies, they would only become bigger―no one ever believed a Tally―and for whatever reason the Whitfields never refuted them.
“Angel?”
Jake’s voice brought her back to the present. No matter what had happened in the past, she’d made her bed and must lie in it. Only thing, she shared it with a big-ass-scary-but-good-looking Whitfield.
“Yeah?”
“When we return to Marystown, I’ll set up an appointment with Judge Yancy. He can marry us this weekend.” He squinted in the early morning light. “I’m sure you understand when we get back, not one word about Carleton better pass your lips. Got me?”
She looked at him. “I might not be the brightest bulb in the pack, but I get it. You need to keep your brothers totally clueless about your plans. I understand and don’t care. Just as long you’re telling the truth about going legal, I’m on board. That’s what I want for Damien.” She looked forward to telling Damien they would finally have a future, a real future away from generations of crime, but she was afraid it would sound too corny. Instead she added, “I’d marry the devil himself if he could make it happen.”
“Damn, that’s a step up from world’s biggest asshole to the devil. I’m honored.”
“You know what I mean.” She fought a grin and looked away. Maybe he did.
The whining sound of tires on the interstate filled the car. She watched the scenery, trying to keep her mind off how her life would be with him, married to a man who didn’t love her. But then again, was she really lovable? It had been years since she acted like regular girls, wanting to play with dolls or dress up. Proms and dates were events she watched on TV while babysitting her brother as she folded the never-ending pile of laundry. So much about a normal life she didn’t understand.
A buzzing sound drew her attention.
Jake leaned to one side and pushed a button on the dash for a private conversation and then he lifted his phone.
“Speak.”
Of course, answering the phone as a regular person would be beyond him.
“Uh-huh. You did right.” His face darkened as he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve, but he quickly straightened it between the lines. “We’ll be there in four hours. I know we’re five hours out, but I’ll make it in four.” He pressed on the screen and tossed the phone into the cup holder.
“What happened?” Her heartbeat picked up speed with the Corvette.
“Damien.”
She lost her breath.
“What about Damien?” she squeaked
out when he remained quiet.
“He’s okay.”
She balled up her fist and hit him hard on the shoulder. “Start with that from now on. What did they tell you?”
The look he cast her way warned she better not strike him again or her ass would be staying red for a while.
“Someone shot at him,” he finally added.
All the air left her lungs again.
His cruel lips stayed shut tight.
“What are you trying to do? Drive me insane?” She closed her eyes, spearing trembling fingers into her hair, and shook her head. “Save me from men who have terse down to an art,” she murmured.
“There’s not much to tell. Someone took a shot and busted out the window he stood next to. He’s fine.”
She let go of her head and glared at him. “So far you’ve told me nothing that would ensure me he’s really okay. Where was he?” More questions scrabbled in her brain. Was he bleeding? In the hospital? Oh, my God! She needed more information.
“At your place.”
“What was he doing there?”
“Tick was with him.”
Frustrated by his abbreviated information, she bit the side of her mouth and counted. She’d learned that trick after dealing with Mac for so many years. It kept her from opening her mouth, best way to practice patience. She hoped Jake would spit out the story. As the seconds passed, she eyed the phone just inches from her hand. The temptation to grab it and call Damien almost overrode her common sense, but she guessed they had confiscated his disposable phone, too.
Unable to hold back any longer, she decided pleading was called for.
“Would you please, please tell me the details? I’ll imagine all kinds of crazy scenarios until you tell me the facts. Or do you get your jollies from doing this? Just because you couldn’t care less what happens to your brothers, I love mine.”
She heard his jaw pop. So what if he hated explaining anything to a Tally. How could she protect her brother if he refused to give her the facts?
Jake: A Southern Crime Family Novel Page 9
