Oh, God. She must be insane. Too many nights dreaming of him, of being in his arms, had thrown her over the edge.
His arm slid around her. "Angel—" Her name came out a low, ragged murmur. With two fingers, he pushed a loose strand of hair off her face. How could such a gentle touch send violent shock waves raging through her? "Oh, God, Angel." Suddenly, his fingers hooked around her nape and he dragged her into an explosive kiss.
She wanted to give herself over to the burning desire, wanted to kiss him back as she had every night in her dreams—but she couldn't. She had to find out why he was here. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed. He eased away slightly, releasing her lips, but holding her with his intent gaze. As he searched her face, she saw his expression tighten. Had he thought the kiss would erase all her doubts?
"Don't you understand? You're in danger."
"From you, Frank?"
"What?" He looked incredulous. "You can't really believe… My God, you think I came here to kill you." He turned away from her, raking his hand through his hair. "Christ, who am I kidding? Why should you think anything else? The last time we were together—"
A knock at the door caused Frank to spin back around, his gaze shooting to the door. He strode toward it and peered out the peephole. He swung back to face her, his expression tense.
"It's Hal." He spoke in a low, purposeful voice. "Look, Angel. I know this is asking a lot, but…" He grasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "I need you to trust me."
Frank dragged her into his arms. Cradled against his hard chest, she could barely breathe. She couldn't think. Couldn't feel. Nothing made sense. Unless…
The knock sounded again.
"Answer it. I'll be in the other room." He grabbed the gun from the table where he had tossed it before going after her.
Shaken, Angel watched as Frank slipped into the hall. He wanted her to trust him? Could she do that? The memory of his cold words and even colder eyes the night he'd blown her cover haunted her. She'd believed in his kisses before. How could she possibly believe in them again?
Frank stood against the wall, holding his gun poised. He gestured toward the door, nodding, then stepped out of sight. My God, if it was Hal at the door, why was Frank hiding? A queasy sensation wriggled through her stomach. Had Frank gone renegade after all? She walked on teetering legs to the front door and pulled it open.
"Hal. What are you doing here?"
She wanted to shove him back and fly out after him, then race for freedom, but she knew Frank had them in the sights of his gun. She couldn't risk Hal getting hurt.
"We need to talk," Hal said, staring past her as though checking if she had company.
She hesitated, wondering if she could talk him into leaving, suggesting they meet somewhere later. At least that would keep Hal out of danger.
"Um, it's not really a good time. Why don't I meet you over at—"
"Nonsense. We're old friends, aren't we?" He pushed past her. "Come on, you haven't seen me in a dog's age and you don't even invite me in. What's the matter with you, Cindy?"
"Nothing." She closed the door behind him. He was here now. All she could do was try and act as natural as possible and hope he left before Frank got antsy. "I just didn't want you to see the mess."
It wasn't a very good excuse, since she'd done a thorough cleaning this morning, but, being a man, maybe Hal wouldn't notice.
"I don't care about that." He marched into the living room. Angel flicked a quick glance at the hall, but didn't see Frank. She knew he wouldn't let her out of his sight, though. She tried to intercept Hal before he settled into the chair that faced the hallway, but she was too late. Angel had wanted that position. This way, Hal might catch sight of Frank, forcing Frank to take some kind of action.
"The new name's Jacqueline, remember?"
"Yeah, right."
"Do you want some tea or something?" she asked weakly, forcing herself to act as normal as possible. He shook his head and nodded toward the love seat opposite him.
"Sit down. This won't take long."
She licked her lips nervously, feeling a drop of perspiration trickle down between her breasts. "You said you wanted to talk to me. Is it something about the case?" If he'd come here to update her, she'd have to make sure he didn't give anything important away.
"Yes, you could say that."
"Do you… do you know who the informant is?"
He stared at her grimly. "As a matter of fact I do."
Her gaze, which had been straying nervously, settled on his face. "Who is it?"
"You, Cindy. Or should I say, Angel?"
She almost corrected him with Jacqueline again, but what he'd said started to sink in. Her brows pulled together in confusion.
"What do you mean, me?" As she returned his intent stare, her jaw crept open in disbelief. "Do you really think I'm the one?"
He raised a hand and ticked points off on his fingers. "Since you've been gone, there haven't been any leaks. No one else even comes close to having the opportunity. And we have a recording of you spilling secrets to a voice messaging system that Vendetti is known to call on a regular basis. Your voice is disguised with that electronic gizmo, but the call traces back to your house in New York—and we've been able to match your voice print with the message by using computers to delete the effect of the scrambler."
Her eyes widened. "But—"
"I'd say there's enough evidence to hang you."
She clasped her hand to her chest. "Hal, it's not me. Someone's pinning it on me. I don't know how or why but—" She bit her lip. "God, Hal. You've got to believe me. You've known me forever. You can't possibly believe—"
"I don't."
She stared at him, trying to focus through the haze of anger and fear engulfing her. "But you just said—"
"Yes, I said it was you. Because I'm going to make sure that's what everyone believes."
Angel jumped to her feet. "What?" I've been betrayed by the only two men I've ever trusted. This can't be happening. But it was. As she'd always known deep down inside, the only person she could ever really trust was herself.
"So it's been you all along, Hal." Her voice sounded cool, composed, in control to her own ears and she marveled at how easily she slipped into her act. "Why did you do it?"
"About a year ago I realized retirement was looming ahead of me and I had little in the bank. I've never been much of a saver and, let's face it, we don't make that much to start with. I see these guys we put away living in luxury and I figure, why shouldn't I have a piece of that?"
"But, Hal, you've spent your whole life fighting organized crime. How could you—"
He sighed heavily and dragged his hand across his thinning hairline. "Look, Cindy, for me it was just a job. Not all of us build our lives around it like you did."
For the first time since his confession, he looked her straight in the eye. "I didn't mean it to end like this, Cindy. I really do like you. I figured I'd drop a few pieces of information, nothing that would really hurt anyone. But then they wanted more and the payoffs got bigger."
"More addictive you mean."
"Something like that."
"But why pin it on me?"
"Because it was so easy. You only had access to information I gave you and I only told them things you'd been told. No one but me knew you were the mob operative, but any information I gave you was on the record."
A sharp pain twisted through her stomach as she realized he'd been using her as a decoy for a long time, setting her up to take the fall. This couldn't really be happening.
"If you've got me so neatly tied up, why the gun?"
"I don't believe in taking chances. These west coast guys have screwed me up in a big way. I brought in a computer hacker a while back to track what information they were requesting and to tie your phone to Vendetti's voice message box. Dennis is pretty well convinced and he'll be coming here any day to drag you off, but I can't take the chance you'll convince them you're
innocent. Especially Frank. I know that guy's hung up on you."
She ignored his speculations about Frank, ignored the flicker of hope it ignited. Her professional instincts kicked in and she knew she had to stall him long enough to reach the gun inside her purse.
"So you're just going to shoot me now? That's it. After all we've been through together?" She continued to back away slowly towards the dining room table, arms hanging at her sides, hands stiffly clenched.
"I really am sorry about this."
She felt the table behind her and discreetly slid one hand behind her back and tried to snap open the purse. "Is that supposed to make me feel better, Hal?" Her hand slid inside, but Hal darted past her in a blur of motion and grabbed her wrist, twisting it around in front of her. He wrenched the purse from her grasp and riffled around inside until he found the small revolver.
He held it up in front of her. "Looking for this, Cindy?"
He stuffed it in his pocket. She struggled out of his grip and lunged away. Hal snatched a gun from under his coat and pointed it at her. She kicked her foot high, aiming for the gun in his hand.
* * *
As soon as Frank heard Hal's confession, he smiled in relief. They had what they needed. Now he had to get Angel out of here. Dennis and his men would be here any minute, having heard everything over the wire Frank wore, but he didn't want to take any chances. He wanted Angel unscathed.
When he saw Angel backing away from Hal, he glanced to the table and saw her purse lying there. She must be going for her gun. Damn it all, was she trying to get herself killed? She kept talking to divert Hal's attention, but as soon as she reached her goal, Hal snatched her wrist forward and grabbed the purse. He pocketed her gun and Angel started to twist sharply, struggling to free herself. Frank tried to set his sights on Hal but with Angel's fierce movements he couldn't fire without the risk of hitting her.
A risk he wouldn't take.
Angel lurched free, then spun around and kicked up her leg. Frank heard the blast of a revolver and, in shock, watched Angel crumple into a heap on the floor. He catapulted into the room and lunged at Hal, knocking the gun out of his hand and across the floor. His hands fastened around the man's neck, squeezing as Hal grasped his wrists, in a futile effort to release himself from the death grip.
Dennis and his two backups flew into the house.
"Frank!" Dennis and another agent dragged him off his victim. "He's not worth it."
Hal stood up sputtering, and Dennis' two men handcuffed him and escorted him from the room.
Frank gathered Angel in his arms and held her against his chest. A ragged crimson stain spread on her white sweatshirt and he pressed his hand to the base of her neck, finding a faintly beating pulse. He buried his face in her hair.
"Oh, God, Angel. Please be all right."
She lay limp and fragile-looking, her face deathly pale. Fear settled into the pit of his stomach like a lump of dry ice. So cold it burned.
Dennis crouched down beside him. "An ambulance will be here in a few moments, Frank."
An ambulance? Cold fire spread through his veins, anger following in its wake. The last half hour had been hell. As soon as he'd walked in here, he'd wanted to drag her into his arms, to kiss her senseless and tell her how much he loved her. And now, he might never get that chance.
Frank glared at Dennis. "Did you get what you needed?"
"Yes. We got every word on tape… thanks to you. Because of you, she's in the clear."
Frank laughed bitterly. "Great. How much good's that going to do if she's dead?"
Dennis placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "She'll be okay."
Frank brushed a loose hair off Angel's face. Her skin felt cold. Unnaturally cold. He cradled her close to his body, trying to infuse her with warmth, but his own heat seemed to be ebbing rapidly.
"If she isn't, I'll hold you to blame." His words came out angry and unforgiving.
He stroked her hair, haunted by the fear in her eyes when she thought he was going to kill her. For the second time. "If I could have explained to her…" The thought that she believed him capable of hurting her corkscrewed through his gut.
"Explained what? That she and Hal were both suspects. That Hal would be arriving soon and we were desperately hoping he'd let something drop in the conversation?" Dennis stood up, thrusting his hands in his pockets. "Frank, we had to do it this way. I couldn't let you hand confidential information over to a suspect. You know that."
"Confidential information? Like the fact that I wasn't here to kill her?"
"She jumped to that conclusion on her own, Frank."
"What else could she believe?"
"Frank, if you hadn't come in here wired and gotten Hal's confession on tape, Angel would have been convicted. It was the only way to save her."
Frank looked down at her blood-drenched top. "You call this saving her?"
Dennis' fingers tightened on Frank's shoulder. "I told you, she's going to be okay. She's got you in her corner."
* * *
From deep within the darkness she heard his voice and it became a beacon in the black night that engulfed her. She focused on it and reached toward it through the fog. "Frank?" she murmured weakly.
"Yes, darling, I'm here."
She opened her eyes and tried to focus. The blurred image of a face wavered before her and she worked hard to clear it. "Frank?" She reached for him and he took her hand. She couldn't remember where she was or what she'd been doing. His features sharpened as her vision cleared.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern etching lines across his face.
"I don't know. Kind of hazy and…" She realized there was a dull throbbing in her left shoulder. "I hurt." She tried to push herself up on the pillows, but the movement cost her too much, in pain and disorientation. Scanning the room, she realized she was in a hospital.
Suddenly, memory fragments poured into her like ice filling a cup. Her pulse accelerated. Frank had come to her house. Then Hal. Frank had pulled a gun. She squeezed her eyelids tight. What had happened after that? Damn this fog around her brain.
"Angel?"
She opened her eyes and stared at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a tight whisper. There was no one around. She was totally helpless. "When you came to my house I… You pulled a gun and… Oh, God, Frank, are you going to…?" Tears trickled from her eyes.
He dragged her hand to his lips, brushing them lightly across her knuckles. To her astonishment, she could feel him shaking. "No, Angel." His finger followed the trail of a tear down her face with heart-wrenching tenderness. "I could never hurt you. Never." His voice was a fierce whisper.
"Then why… the way you acted."
He intertwined his fingers with hers. "I couldn't tell you why I'd come. Dennis suspected from the beginning that the informant was either Hal or… or…" He dropped his gaze to their joined hands.
A sick feeling wiggled its way through her stomach. "Or me?"
He exhaled sharply. "Yeah. When we found out Hal was on his way to see you, I went in wired, hoping he'd confess."
"So that whole thing was a trap for Hal?"
"Not just that, Angel. I hoped he'd let the story spill, then you'd be cleared, but more I was afraid… Afraid he'd kill you. Afraid I'd lose you again."
She ignored his last few words—couldn't really comprehend them—because one thought spiked through her brain, fragmenting coherent thought. "You believed I was the informant?" She stared at him, pain lancing her heart. "You believed it all along, didn't you? Just as Hal intended. That's why you married me. That's why you…" Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she glanced away. "Oh, God. That's why you pretended to love me." It had all been an act. That much was clear. Of course, he'd pretended to love her. What better way to gain her trust?
"Angel, I wasn't pretending."
She glanced back at him. "No?"
"How can you not know how I feel?" The agonized words tore softly from his throat.
Angel gazed into his eyes and saw love clearly scrawled across the canvas of his soul. Love. He really loves me. New tears pooled in her eyes before starting a slow descent down her cheeks. At her tears, Frank's expression turned grim. Slowly, he started to pull away from her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back, her hand firmly planted on his forearm.
"Frank…" She hesitated, still feeling a little too vulnerable to be the first to speak the words.
Frank saw the moisture swell in her eyes and felt his heart breaking. Those tears told him clearly how she felt. She wouldn't forgive him. His betrayal had severed their last chance at love. He wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her… but he couldn't. Right now, it hurt too much knowing he was losing her.
"I'm sorry, Angel. I had to come and explain… and ask you to forgive me. I know it's asking a lot… after what I did. I… I don't know of any way to make it up to you. I can only hope that you find it in your heart to understand."
Angel felt Frank withdrawing, pulling into himself. Why was he putting barriers between them?
"Frank, I knew…" She bit her lip, remembering her doubts. "I mean, deep down inside, I didn't believe you'd gone over to the mob. And…" She licked her dry lips, knowing she had to tell him what was in her heart. "And I love you."
"Oh, God, Angel." Gently, he pulled her into his arms, careful of her injured shoulder. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"You had to do what you did. It was part of the assignment."
He nodded, stroking her hair. "I never wanted to hurt you. When you were found snooping in Vendetti's office, I had to pretend to turn you in to gain their confidence. Blowing your cover was the only way I could ensure your safety. I hoped you'd have faith in me…" His voice trailed off. Her head pressed against his chest and his lips caressed her temple. "And you did," he whispered roughly. "Oh, God, Angel, you don't know how much that means to me."
She gazed up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears. "Frank, I couldn't stop loving you. I had to believe in you, in us. It's all that kept me going."
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 116
