He rolled his eyes toward the elaborately sculpted plasterwork of the ceiling but said nothing.
Maggie flicked a wary glance his way before focusing on Angel. “I know one cop I’d trust with my life. I’ll have him guard you from James.”
“Who?” Angel asked.
“Jordan Trouble.”
Jordan exploded from his chair like a shuttle on liftoff. “You’re out of your mind!”
Maggie folded her arms across her chest, tipped her chin and faced him down. “Am I? You’re the best cop I know, and the only one I can guarantee isn’t on James’s payroll.”
He locked his jaw tight, and Angel spotted a vein in his neck, ticking like a time bomb. Turning his back on the women, he strode toward a window and stared out across the pool as if forgetting they were there.
When he finally spoke, his quiet words were ragged and strained, as if ripped from his heart. “I couldn’t keep my own sister safe. I’m not about to have anyone else depending on me.”
Maggie studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s your call. If you come up with a better plan, let me know. If not, Sara goes to trial for Swinburn’s murder.”
He didn’t respond, and the detective turned to Angel. “If I could think of another way...”
Angel nodded. “Thanks.”
When Maggie left, Angel crossed the room to Jordan, who continued to gaze out the window. She slid her arms around his waist, laid her cheek against the taut muscles of his back and felt him stiffen beneath her touch.
“Don’t.” He ground the word out through clenched teeth.
Anger mixed with caring, almost choking her. He couldn’t allow one mistake, no matter how monumental, to ruin the rest of his life. From the little he’d told her of Jenny, his sister would have hated the way he was punishing himself over her death.
“Don’t what?” Frustration fueled her temper and loosened her tongue. “Don’t love you?”
He sighed. “Don’t—”
“Don’t try to clear my name so I can have my daughter back? Don’t ask you to take responsibility for anything but wallowing in your grief?”
Breaking free of her embrace, he whirled to face her, his face dark with fury. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then clamped his jaw shut.
His size and power, combined with his fury, should have daunted her, but she was too angry, too desperate to notice. “You don’t want to get involved, fine. Just jump on your boat and sail off into the sunset. I don’t need your help.”
She spun on her heel toward the exit, but he caught her arm.
“Where are you going?”
She jerked free. “What difference does it make?”
He flinched as if she’d struck him, and his shoulders sagged as the anger left him. “I care what happens to you.”
“Those are only words,” she shot back. “I’m going after Maggie. Between the two of us, we’ll come up with a plan to force a confession out of James and prove my innocence.”
He closed his hands over her shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. “Can’t you understand? It’s because I care about you that I can’t be responsible. You need someone emotionally uninvolved, someone you can count on—”
“If not for you, Frank and Sidney would have killed me days ago.”
With a tortured moan, he pulled her against his chest and buried his face in her hair. Locking her arms around him, she reveled in the warm security of his embrace until, abruptly, he released her. The harsh set of his face made her last hope falter. With unbearable sadness, she caressed the strong line of his jaw.
She would have turned to leave, but he grasped her hand and pressed it to his lips. His kiss burned her palm, but she couldn’t pull away.
His expression remained determined, but his eyes warmed as his gaze met hers. “If we hurry, we can catch Maggie.”
“Catch—” Surprise shook her. “You mean—”
“If we’re going to lure James here, we have a lot of planning to do.”
Chapter Twelve
Talk about a lose-lose situation, Jordan thought gloomily. And he’d plunged into it with his eyes wide open. If he’d refused to go along with Angel and Maggie’s scheme, the women had been prepared to tackle James alone. Helping them, however, wasn’t necessarily doing them a favor.
Nobody knew, least of all Jordan, how he’d react in a crisis—whether his training would automatically kick in or his memories of shooting Jenny would paralyze him, rendering him worse than useless.
As if his doubts weren’t enough, the whole setup was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. Just because things had gone smoothly until now didn’t mean catastrophe wouldn’t strike at any moment.
During Angel’s telephone call, offering to meet and return the money, James had asked for time to consider her proposal. Jordan had figured James needed an opportunity to contact his spy in the P.D. to check for a trap. An hour later, when Angel called James back as requested, he agreed to meet her at sundown at the Swinburn mansion.
An hour before Carleton James’s scheduled appearance, Maggie arrived at the estate, bringing a trunkload of electronic paraphernalia.
Jordan surveyed the equipment and scratched his head. “How’d you smuggle this stuff out without explaining to anyone at the station what’s going down?”
Maggie grinned as she untangled wires. “I stuffed it in two duffel bags marked athletic equipment and told them I was starting an all-girl soccer league.”
“The chief’ll skin you alive when he finds out,” Jordan warned.
“Before or after he gives me a commendation for solving Swinburn’s murder and the real estate scams? Now, take off your shirt.”
He had avoided looking at Angel as he stripped. Every time he caught sight of those big brown eyes, filled with trust and affection beneath her wispy bangs of soft brown hair, he wanted only to hold her, to promise he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d have a hell of a time convincing her, however, when he hadn’t convinced himself.
Assuming an air of cold detachment, he’d allowed Maggie to wire him for two-way communication, then turned away while she attached the mike and transceiver to Angel’s smooth skin. While Angel shrugged back into her blouse and tucked the trailing antenna into the leg of her jeans, he kept his gaze on the sketch she’d drawn of the estate grounds and reviewed their plan.
Just before sundown, Maggie would switch on the recording equipment in her car, out of sight in the garage, then hide inside the rear gates until James’s vehicle had passed through. After he entered the house, she would slip into the hallway outside the study. Meanwhile, Jordan would wait in the study bathroom, poised to rush to Angel’s assistance at the first sign of difficulty.
Once Maggie had James’s incriminating statements on tape, she’d signal for backup on her police radio, then she and Jordan would grab James in the study, and Maggie would make the arrest.
Piece of cake.
Then why was he pouring sweat as he waited for Angel to bring James into the study? Despite the frigid air streaming from the ceiling ducts in the bathroom, a thin trickle of perspiration ran down Jordan’s spine and pooled at his waist, where a holster held the .357 Magnum Maggie had supplied him.
He hadn’t wanted to accept the revolver—he never wanted to hold a gun again—but he’d be a fool to face James, and possibly Frank and Sidney, unarmed.
“I’m approaching the front door.” Angel’s words, spoken softly into the mike hidden in her bra, carried through Jordan’s earpiece. “This is it.”
He didn’t hear the door open, but he caught Angel’s gasp of surprise.”
“Treat or treat.” Sidney’s familiar voice rolled through Jordan’s receiver.
“Good evening, Ms. Swinburn,” Frank said. “I believe you have a package for us?”
“Maggie...” Jordan’s pulse thundered in his head as he whispered into his mike to the detective, “Where’s James? What the hell’s happening?”
“James was driving and the only one in t
he car when it pulled through the gates,” she answered. “I don’t know where those two came from—or where James went. I’m calling for backup now.”
Jordan waited while she communicated her request over her radio.
“Where are you, Maggie?” he asked.
“Slipping in the back door.”
“Just keep moving, Ms. Swinburn.” Frank’s voice reverberated in Jordan’s ear. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Neither do I.” Angel’s voice was cool and steady. “But that’s an awfully big gun you have pointed at me and it’s making me nervous.”
Good girl, alerting us that he’s armed.
Jordan wished he was half as calm as Angel sounded. Rage shook him as he pictured James’s hired assassins with Angel in their sights. Part of him wanted to jerk his gun from its holster and rush the bastards, bullets blazing. A cooler, more rational side realized Angel would be in the line of fire. Drawing his weapon could be fatal to the woman he loved.
Déjà vu.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Angel said reasonably.
Jordan heard the door open as she entered the study, and her voice sounded not only in his earpiece but through the bathroom door, as well.
“I want to return to Mr. James what rightfully belongs to him,” she said. “Where is he?”
“He’s around,” Frank said, “waiting for his money.”
“Easy, Angel,” Jordan whispered into the mike at his collar. “Maneuver them in front of the desk, just as we planned to do with James.”
“If you’ll have a seat,” Angel said, “I’ll get the money.”
“I got a better idea,” Sidney said. “You sit down and tell me where the money is.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll just sit behind the desk—”
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Frank ordered.
“Of course.” Jordan heard the squeak of Swinburn’s desk chair as she sat.
“Good girl, Angel. Maggie...” Jqrdan barely breathed the name into his mike. “Are you in position?”
“I’m in the hall outside the study. The door’s closed. Looks like James has flown the coop.”
“Let’s do it, then,” Jordan said. “Everyone ready, on my signal.”
“Yes,” Angel spoke aloud, “I’m ready, uh, to tell you where the money is.”
“Now,” Jordan whispered into his mike and threw open the bathroom door.
At the same instant, Maggie, gun drawn, rushed in from the hallway, and Angel lunged beneath the heavy mahogany desk.
Jordan flung himself across the room, landing on Frank before the gunman could fire, toppling him backward in his chair and pinning him to the floor. Frank’s pistol skated across the carpet toward Maggie, who pressed her weapon against the thick folds of Sidney’s neck.
Wrestling Frank to his feet, Jordan wrenched the gunman’s arms behind his back and clamped on the cuffs Maggie tossed him. Angel skittered from beneath the desk, retrieved Frank’s automatic from the floor, removed Sidney’s from his jacket and handed both weapons to Jordan.
Tucking the guns in the waist of his jeans, he noted her face had gone pale, except for slashes of high color on her cheeks. Her brown eyes blazed like molten honey.
The whole operation had gone seamlessly, smoothly. No shots fired, no one injured. But the danger wasn’t over.
He jerked Frank’s arm. “Where’s James?”
The handcuffed man shrugged. “Last time I saw him was when we crawled out of the trunk of his car.”
“His car!” Angel said. “He’ll get away.”
“I don’t think so.” Maggie grinned and lifted a ring of car keys from her pocket. “He’ll have a long walk.”
Jordan heard the wail of approaching sirens. “And a police cordon to cross.” He nudged Frank’s shoulder. “Get moving. You guys are going for a ride.”
Maggie ushered Frank and Sidney into the hall toward the front door and met Panowski coming in.
“You folks okay?” he asked.
Jordan tugged Frank’s and Sidney’s weapons from his belt and handed them to Panowski. “Yeah, Rick. Everything’s under control.”
The detectives left with their prisoners, and Jordan looped his arm over Angel’s shoulder. “Ever thought about going into police work? You seem to have a knack for it.”
“I couldn’t take it.” She laughed and shook her head, ruffling her short brown hair. “Too much excitement.”
They walked toward the rear courtyard, crowded now with police cruisers, flashing lights and uniformed officers. She stopped suddenly and lifted her face toward his. “It isn’t over, is it?”
“It?” A sinking sensation hit his stomach. With Frank and Sidney caught, Angel no longer needed his protection. She and Brittany could return to their apartment and their lives. And he could take off for Key West and oblivion again. The prospect brought him no pleasure.
“They haven’t caught James,” she reminded him.
“They will. It’s just a matter of time.”
BUT CARLETON JAMES ELUDED the police dragnet. By the time detectives secured a warrant to search his house, James—and his oceangoing yacht—had disappeared.
“Where do you think he went?” Angel asked Jordan as they boarded Heavenly Days in the thin light of dawn.
Jordan headed for the galley. “International waters. Once he’s twelve miles offshore, United States’ authorities can’t touch him.”
“And after that?”
She settled on the galley bench. Weary as she was after a night at the Sunset Bay police station, she still enjoyed watching Jordan make coffee. She would never tire of gazing at his broad, muscled shoulders, thick, sun-bleached hair and slow, easy grin.
“He’ll probably head for the Caymans.” Jordan dumped water in the reservoir and turned on the coffeemaker. “Even if all his laundered money isn’t stashed in a Cayman Island bank, he can access it from there.”
An inexplicable shiver shook her, and she glanced around uneasily. “What if he isn’t on his yacht? What if he’s hanging around here?”
Jordan sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. “Not a chance. The police combed the entire neighborhood. Maggie herself directed Panowski’s search of my boat.”
She snuggled into the reassuring warmth of his embrace. “Then why do I feel so jittery?”
“Fatigue.” His fingers brushed her hair from her forehead and traced the line of her cheek, causing a different and not unpleasant restlessness. “And delayed reaction. You went through a traumatic experience last night.”
She shook her head. “Working with you and Maggie made it seem like child’s play.”
He grunted in disagreement. “You were in danger from the get-go. What if Frank had shot you first, then looked for the money?”
The familiar pain haunted his eyes, and she caressed the strong line of his cheek, wishing for some way to erase his heartache. “But he didn’t.”
Jordan tightened his arms around her. “We were all lucky. Frank Maricosso and Sidney Stepman have rap sheets longer than my arm—and that doesn’t include the contract murders we can’t pin on them. Those guys are cold-blooded killers who’d as soon shoot you as look at you.”
“What’s going to happen to them?”
“They’re turning State’s evidence and testifying against James.”
“So much for honor among thieves.”
Jordan grimaced. “They’re looking out for their own skins. In return for implicating James, they’re hoping the state attorney will reduce their sentences.”
“Reduce?” She bolted upright in his arms. “How can the attorney do that? Those men are too dangerous to be walking the streets.”
“Frank and Sidney won’t be freed. They’re bargaining for life in prison instead of death sentences. And speaking of jail, what happened with you while Mags and I were in interviews?”
“I called Michael from the station. After checking with Maggie, he contacted Judge Zacharias. All charges a
gainst me have been dropped.” Her spirits soared in spite of her fatigue. “I can bring Brittany home now.”
“You should get some sleep first.”
“I can’t. Not now.”
She wanted him to be happy for her, but his expression had turned gloomy. She’d expected having her name cleared to change everything, but proving her innocence hadn’t brought back Jenny—or Jordan’s faith in himself. Even though he held her, he seemed a million miles away.
“You’ll need a car to drive to Orlando,” he said.
“That’s a problem. Maggie said mine’s been impounded as evidence.”
He released her and crossed the galley to pour coffee into mugs. “I’m heading back to Sunset Bay Marina. If you want to ride along, you can borrow my car until yours is released. If you call the Erskines now, they can bring Brittany to meet you at the marina.”
No us, only you.
He’d withdrawn, shut her out, and no matter how much she loved him, she couldn’t penetrate the wall that protected him from the horrible pain he suffered from killing his sister.
He handed her coffee and sat across from her.
“I care for you more than any woman I’ve ever known,” he said, as if he’d read her mind, “and because I care, I’m getting out of your life.” His eyes were dark with an agony she could only guess at.
“But—”
“I have to sort things out, come to terms with the fact I killed my sister before I can get on with my life. I’ve made some progress, but I have a ways to go.”
“I could help.”
He shook his head. “This is something I have to work out for myself, and I have no idea how long it could take—a year? Ten? I can’t ask you to put your life on hold while I get my head on straight.”
She wanted to argue, demand that he let her stay, but the stubborn, unyielding look in his eyes convinced her she’d be wasting breath. She’d already learned that once he’d made up his mind, it would take the equivalent of an atomic blast to shift him.
“Who knows,” he said with a shrug and his slow, easy grin, “someday years from now, I may show up on your doorstep.”
Although her heart was breaking, she returned his smile. “Who knows?” she echoed, wanting to cry.
A Woman of Mystery Page 17
