“What did you decide to do with your parents’ house?”
That had been hanging over her head for the past six months. Her parents had moved there when she was ten, when her family had first moved to Paris. She loved the house, but it was the people who had lived there that she adored. They might be gone but the wonderful memories remained. She had been unable to make a decision on selling it. “I’m still debating.”
“It’s hard to let go,” Samara said softly.
She doubted if she could ever truly let go. A few days ago, she’d ventured into her sister’s bedroom. In seconds, she was lying on Chloe’s bed and sobbing into her pillow like a baby. The scent of her sister’s shampoo had been there but was fading. How she had loved Chloe’s infectious laugh and optimistic attitude. And Max, who had always been awkward and shy around everyone but his family, had been coming out of his shell.
“You okay?”
Angela jerked her head up and blinked back tears. Convincing Samara she was mentally sound enough to endure the rigors of a mission by breaking down was probably a very bad move. It didn’t matter that she and Noah’s wife had been the closest of friends for over three years. If she didn’t think Angela could handle the op, she’d have no problem advising Noah to pull her off the case.
“I’m fine. Really I am.”
“Tell me what you were just thinking.”
“Chloe and Max. They barely had a chance to live.”
“They adored their big sister.”
Her smile feeling somewhat fractured, she nodded. “The feeling was mutual. I went to the house the other day. Broke down in Chloe’s room.”
“Tears can wash away a ton of grief.”
“If that’s the case, I should be sparkling clean.”
“Bottom line. Can you do this job? No one would think less of you if you chose to wait.”
Doubts were part of being human and Angela wasn’t immune to them. However, when it came to her belief in her abilities, she had no doubts. She had been training for this job all her adult life.
“Without a doubt, I can do the job.”
Samara regarded her for several seconds. Angela withstood the look, knowing her friend would make the assessment regardless of their relationship. Finally, she nodded and said, “I’ll tell Noah you’re ready.”
“I thought it would be tougher to convince you.”
“I’ve watched you deal with a grief that would debilitate many people. Our talk today was more formality than an evaluation.”
Angela breathed out a relieved sigh. Samara had been her last hurdle and though she hadn’t worried she could convince her she was ready, to know that her friend had that kind of faith in her increased her confidence even more. Now she would go home and prepare. Jake had said if things went well with Samara, they would leave tomorrow afternoon for London.
“So I’ll see you when I get back.”
For the first time, Samara’s worry showed. Holding out her arms for a hug, she said, “Don’t take any chances. Okay?”
Reaching down to her petite friend, she returned the embrace. “Don’t worry. Your husband trained me well.”
“I hope you can be home for Micah’s birthday party. He would be so disappointed if he didn’t get to see his favorite aunt on his special day.”
“That’s four weeks away. I’ll be back before then I’m sure.”
She could feel Samara’s eyes on her as she walked out the door. A shiver of apprehension zipped up her spine. For the first time, a ripple of doubt entered her head. Was she being stupid? Should she tell Noah she would sit this one out and take another, less dangerous mission? She instantly knew the answer. She could do this job.
Now having Jake Mallory as a partner? That was a completely different matter.
Chapter Six
Two days later
London, England
“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet if you don’t stop pacing.”
“I don’t see why we can’t go out. He hasn’t seen me yet.”
“No, and he doesn’t need to see you.”
“I thought that was the whole plan.”
“It is the plan, when the time is right.”
When she blew out an explosive sigh, Jake said patiently, “Look, we know he likes a type, with a certain occupation. If he’s roaming around and sees you today, he might not take the bait if he sees you again at the club. The man might be certifiably insane but he’s not stupid. He’s got to know the police are going to use undercover people to try to trap him. If he suspects anything at all, we’ll have to start all over again.”
He was right, but she was going stir-crazy. Jake had been sitting in that chair for over two hours, reading. She’d always thought a man who read was incredibly sexy, so watching a man she already thought was sexy read a book didn’t help. And when he’d put his reading glasses on? She’d almost drooled.
She had brought her own books but hadn’t cracked one open. Concentrating in such close proximity to Jake was impossible. She told herself she could leave the room, even leave the apartment. They had rented the apartment attached to this one, too. That way if the killer began stalking her, he would believe she lived alone. There was a door inside the apartment that led to the other one. She could go there and get away from him. So why the hell didn’t she?
Ignoring the silent, damning question, she asked aloud, “What time is our meeting with the club owner?”
Without looking up from the page, he answered, “Six o’clock.”
She headed to the miniscule kitchen. “Want something to eat?”
Hearing a heavy sigh, she turned to see that he’d finally put his book down and taken his glasses off. That didn’t help because now that single-minded focus was concentrated solely on her.
“What’s the real problem?”
“I’m just anxious to get started.”
“Are you nervous about your undercover role? If you are, we can change it. Since we’re meeting with the club owner, all you have to do is tell him you want to do something else. You could be a waitress like Riley. You don’t have to dance.”
Riley and Justin would be working in the club, too. Riley would be waiting tables and Justin was the new bouncer. Having them as additional protection gave her a deeper feeling of security. And though Riley was more petite than his preferred victim, Angela knew the operative would play a role in hopes of attracting the killer.
“Angela?” Jake broke into her musings. “Want to change your cover?”
She shook her head. Was she nervous about taking her clothes off in front of dozens of drunken men? Of course she was. She wasn’t shy about her body but neither was she used to flaunting it nakedly to strangers either. That three of those people weren’t strangers but co-workers added another layer of concern. However, this was her job. LCR missions often involved roles that would make the average person uncomfortable. Angela was determined that she could be just as professional as any other operative.
“I’ll be fine…as long as no one gets too close.”
A fierce, hot look flashed in his eyes. “No one will lay a hand on you, I promise you that.”
“Yes, well… They’ll be sliding money into my unmentionables, so there will be hands touching me. Besides, you can’t be too protective or he’ll never take the bait.”
“You let me worry about that.”
“Did you ever have to deal with a serial killer when you were a cop?”
His “Back off” expression firmly in place, he shook his head.
That was a look she’d seen many times and had gotten used to. It didn’t matter. She was made of sterner stuff. She’d just keep asking questions until he finally opened up.
“You were a cop for what…six years? I’m sure you dealt with some terrible people during that time.”
His face grew harder and Angela shivered. Okay, maybe she wasn’t immune to those blue eyes piercing through her. They had known each other for months now and the only events he ha
d talked to her about were the things that had happened to him since he had come to Paris. It was as if he wanted to pretend he had never had a life before LCR. Problem was, that life he wanted to pretend never existed continued to eat at him.
“You can give me those looks all day long but it doesn’t mean I’ll stop asking questions.”
“Why? What is it that you feel you have to know about me?”
Should she take this was an opportunity to tell him she knew almost everything about him? He had to know that she knew a little. Why else would she ask him about being a cop? That was information he certainly hadn’t shared with her. But should she tell him she knew about his wife’s death? That he blamed himself was apparent, but she knew the whole story. Teresa Mallory’s death had been a horrific tragedy and many were at fault. Jake was not one of them.
No, an inevitable argument would ensue. They didn’t need the distraction. After this was over, she would come clean. She should have long ago but had never got to the point of saying, “I know everything about you and I think you’re a wonderful man.”
She shrugged. “You said we were friends. Friends know about each other’s lives.”
“There’s still a lot I don’t know about you.”
She almost laughed. After all the chattering she’d done, there was almost nothing he didn’t already know. Still, if there were questions he wanted to ask, she was ready, willing, and able to give him answers.
“What do you want to know?”
“Were you born in Paris?”
“No. My father was French, my mother is…was from America…she grew up in Wisconsin. She met my father while she was on holiday in Europe. He moved to the States when they were married. I was born in Milwaukee but we moved to Paris when I was ten.”
“So that’s why you have so many Americanisms.”
She smiled. “We rarely spoke French in our house. My mother never learned to speak the language and my father was fluent in English. We were a very American family living in the heart of Paris.”
“Your brother and sister were born in France?”
“No, but they were just infants when we moved to Paris. However, they learned to speak both languages equally well.”
“Did your parents know that you worked for LCR?”
She shook her head. “I hated keeping the truth from them but Noah feared for their safety. And I didn’t want to worry them. He and I agreed that I would be as vague as possible about my employment. I think they were under the impression that I worked for an aging hippy.”
“Because of your tattoos and piercings?”
“Yes.”
“They didn’t know they were fake?”
She swallowed a startled breath. “How could you tell? People who have known me for years don’t know that. Even Noah didn’t know for a long time.”
“Maybe that’s because he—”
“Because he what?”
Looking as though he wanted to bite his tongue off, Jake shrugged and looked away as he murmured, “Maybe it’s because he hasn’t looked at you as closely as I have.”
A flash of heat rushed through her. Though she would love to take this conversation to a different level, she wouldn’t. Jake had made it clear he wanted nothing between them and while she refused to accept the finality of that, she wouldn’t pursue it here. When this case was over though, she planned to pursue the hell out of it.
“When I was hired, I was sporting a couple of fake tats. Just experimenting to see how I liked them. Noah told me my number one priority would be to deter uninvited visitors to LCR. So, when it came time to report for my first day on the job, I showed up with so many piercings and tats, Noah barely recognized me.”
“Did he ask you why you’d added them?”
“No, funnily enough, he didn’t. Noah has always been accepting of my differences.”
“You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. Without him and Milo hiring me, I’m not sure how my family and I would have survived.”
“Milo’s the guy who helped McCall put LCR together?”
“Yes, he was killed by an LCR traitor.”
“Hard to believe there are those who betray Last Chance Rescue, knowing what we do.”
“Unfortunately there are people who would sell their own souls for money.”
Jake released a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, don’t I know that.”
“You’ve run across a lot of people like that?”
“Hell yeah, haven’t you?”
“Actually no. Most of the people I know are good, decent people. Learning we had a traitor in our midst was a shock.”
“You’re lucky. Most of the people I’ve known were out for one thing only—themselves. And to hell with everyone else.”
“That’s a very jaded view of life. Do you include LCR people in your assessment?”
“No. I know none of them are angels but from what I’ve observed they’re not in this line of work for the power and money most people desire. They genuinely want to help others.”
“Just like you.”
He got to his feet and headed to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
An exasperated sigh, laced with sadness, escaped her. Typical Jake move. If the conversation got the least bit personal, he shut it down or walked away.
She had stopped wondering what made her pursue a man who made it obvious he didn’t want the attention. It wasn’t sheer stubbornness, although she had that in abundance, nor was it wanting what she couldn’t have. She had been attracted to other men, some had returned her interest, others hadn’t. None had fascinated her like Jake. Not one of them had made her want to hold and comfort him. Nor had any of them infuriated and turned her on at the same time. Her heart had no doubts that Jake was the one for her. She did, however, have serious doubts that her heart would get what it wanted.
“I have another question.”
She looked up as Jake returned to the room, a glass of water in his hand. “What?”
“Why a stripper?”
She was more than a little surprised he hadn’t asked the question before. The disapproval on his face when he’d looked at her cover had been apparent.
“Exotic dancers are one of his preferences. It only made sense that one of us go undercover as one.”
“I agree. But why you? You set up the covers for most LCR operatives. You could have assigned dancer to someone else.”
“The other female operatives on the mission don’t have the experience I have.”
It took every ounce of control she possessed not to laugh at his stunned expression.
“You’ve been a stripper?”
“Not technically but I took some classes.”
“When?”
“Exotic dance class was an elective in college and I really enjoyed it. After I graduated, I took more classes to stay in shape. It’s a great workout. My body is as limber now as it was when I was in school.”
Jake clenched his jaw. Hell, that was information he definitely didn’t want. He’d been throwing out questions at her, hoping for relief from the ache that was a constant part of him when he was with Angela. Her revelations about her exotic dance experience were ones he could have done without. Just the thought of her beautiful, graceful body, barely clothed and dancing sensually to music, made him rock hard. What the hell was he going to do when he actually witnessed the event?
He took a long swallow of his cold water. The temperature outside was just above freezing. In this room, it had shot up considerably in the last few seconds.
“I’m going to shower.” She stood and smiled slightly. “All of my tats are just about gone. None of the victims were inked, so I figured I needed to get rid of them.”
“So none of them were real?”
“And no piercings either.” She easily pulled an earring from her earlobe that he could have sworn was pierced. Laughter dancing in her eyes, she added, “I have an aversion to needles.”
; “That’s something we have in common. I can’t stand them either.” He grinned as he remembered one drunken night long ago. “I was on leave with a few of my buddies from the Army. One night we were hell bent on getting tattoos. I thought I was just drunk enough that I could go through with it. Got in the chair and they brought the needle out. Didn’t take long for me to realize that no matter how much alcohol I consumed, I would never be drunk enough to voluntarily get stuck with a needle. Everybody but me got a tat that night.” He shook his head. “I liked to have never lived that down.”
That was probably more than he’d ever told her about his past. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable questions. They were there…he saw them sparkling in her eyes. But, as usual, Angela did what she always did—the unexpected. Instead of pursuing the subject, she shrugged. “It’s probably best that I don’t have any. Tattoos and piercings might have been a distraction.”
Considering that everyone would probably have their tongues hanging out watching that gorgeous body strip bare, Jake figured few would have noticed body art or piercings. Angela’s body was a work of art all by itself.
She stretched, revealing a slender, toned torso and then worked her neck back and forth. “I’m a little tense. Hopefully the shower will loosen me up. If I get to dance tonight, I need to be as limber as possible.”
Jake’s eyes followed her hungrily as she walked out of the room. An email ping from his laptop was a welcomed distraction. Twisting the laptop around, he clicked the email icon and sighed when he saw the sender. Even after all these years, his mother had yet to let go of the idea that the life she wanted for her son wasn’t the life he wanted for himself.
Weekly, if not daily, she sent newsy emails, detailing what was going on in their pocket of the world. Jake had learned to break down the information, picking out the parts that updated him on his family without paying attention to all the society news his mother liked to impart. He enjoyed the updates on his parents but could care less about the other stuff.
He had played that game once—gone to the right schools, associated with the kids that met his parents’ approval, dated the most suitable girls. And he’d almost married one of those girls. The only rebellion he’d ever had was his choice in careers. His parents had wanted him to join the family business. Instead he’d gone into the Army and then the police force. The latter had been a bad decision since it’d had so many negative consequences. His job as a cop had gotten Teresa killed, cost another woman her life, and had virtually destroyed his own life. Yeah, a damn bad decision.
CHANCES ARE (Last Chance Rescue) Page 6
