The small black box began beeping. Angela jumped. "Shit," she hissed. Her nerves were frazzled. Maybe a drink would calm her, or even hot tea. It would be smart to stock up on a few supplies and keep them in her refrigerator. She had a microwave and a sink. Calling room service every time she wanted something would break her bank.
Settling for cold water, Angela propped herself on a chair in front of the box on the table. There were knobs and lights facing her, and she tilted the box, reading the label by each light and referring to her owner's manual.
"'There will be one solid beep to indicate frequency change. This will happen only when more than one transmitter is activated. After the beep, switch the listening channel.'" She quit reading and turned the small knob until it clicked. Popping sounded through the speaker. "God, I love these devices."
"Bobby!" someone yelled through the crackling.
Angela pulled her knee to her chin and wrapped her hands around her leg, resting her head and staring at the box.
"You need to feed the goons."
"What's the point?" a man asked, more than likely Bobby. "All they do is sit there like zombies. They aren't even pacing or talking anymore."
"Just because they're drugged doesn't mean they don't need to eat." Whoever was giving the order wasn't Mario.
"And isn't it your job to feed them?" Bobby complained.
"Not anymore. I've been promoted. You're feeding the goons now."
The goons were probably the people Mario had abducted for the game. A wave of excitement rushed through Angela. She almost jumped out of her chair. The people he'd kidnapped were there at his house somewhere.
"Look at you, Marco. Not an hour after tossing your padre into the lake, you assume his command with no remorse. Do you see what is happening?" Bobby sounded disgusted.
"Yes. I see clearly. You would, too, if you were smart," Marco hissed. "Mario will win the game. Do you know what the winner of the game receives?"
Angela stared at the box, her eyes burning from not blinking. She strained to catch every word. Recorded or not, this was what it was all about. Right here. Narrow in on the game and take it down, along with all of its morbid players.
"I'm going to own the world along with him," Marco said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Mario isn't a monster. He's driven. And if you aren't, you'll end up like my padre. You have the choice. I choose to live."
"Like you could rule the word." Now Bobby was disgusted. "You don't even have a hold on your family."
"Feed the goons," Marco ordered.
"Feed them your own goddamn self."
Angela nibbled her lip, listening to the rustling sound coming through the speaker. There were a few grunts and silence. Already she could pin murder on Mario. There was enough proof, along with what she'd visibly seen, to get a warrant. Murder would put him away but wouldn't end the game. She had to hold out a day or so to learn more. Nonetheless, she wrote lake on the hotel note pad, which was on the table, and circled it. The body would be harder to find the longer she waited.
"Fine! I'll fucking feed them," Bobby panted, sounding out of breath.
"There are ten of them."
"I know that," Bobby hissed.
"Do you? You know the rules of the game you profess to despise?" Marco's accent was thicker, making him hard to understand.
Angela leaned forward, chewing her lower lip and closing her eyes so she could hear every word.
"Each player can have no more than ten pieces on the board at a time."
"If you behave, I'll show you the board."
Angela sat up so fast she almost toppled out of the chair. Gripping the sides of the table, she stared at the box. "Tell me where it is, baby," she whispered.
"How in the hell would you do that?"
"I've seen it," Marco said. "It's on his computer."
Angela was sure Bobby would be giving Marco a look of awe, just as she was to the box.
"Mario would kill you worse than he did your padre."
"Maybe. If he caught me. When he goes after that slut that was here, I'll take you to his bedroom and show you. It's pretty cool."
"Deal."
"Better hurry and feed the goons. He'll be heading out tonight."
Did that mean he would come looking for her tonight? Angela could only imagine how many women he had parading around him. No wonder his family assumed she was a slut.
"So what's my best plan of attack now?" she mused, stretching and glancing around her room. She still expected Jake to storm in on her at any moment. She remembered him telling her she wouldn't see him unless she needed him but that didn't settle her nerves any. She shot another furtive look around the hotel room, focusing on the darker corners and staring at the dark shadow that loomed out of the bathroom.
"Marco!" A man yelled the name, his voice so audible it sounded as if he were right next to her.
Angela yelped, then slapped her hand to her forehead, exhaling loudly. "Lord, woman," she muttered under her breath. She was way too on edge. It was a damn good thing she was alone. She adjusted herself in her chair, putting her feet on the floor under the table and sitting straight, facing the box, and focusing on the small speaker.
"You know what Mario says about smoking on the patio." This man spoke with a polished accent, his voice calm and authoritative.
"It's been a tough evening. I doubt he'll deny me a smoke. Besides, I've been promoted. I have new responsibilities."
"Which you'll lose if you break the rules." Whoever spoke used a stern tone. He sounded like Mario but with a deeper voice; possibly he was older.
Interesting how the family Mario spoke of with such reverence and denied having in this country were those he used as his servants. It shouldn't surprise her. Turning his immediate family into hired help fit Mario's profile.
"Then don't tell him," Marco said, lowering his voice so that he sounded as stern as the man speaking to him.
"I won't. But Mario wants to see you. He sent me for you."
"Is he angry?"
"Of course. But I don't think at you. Come on."
Angela sat staring at the surveillance equipment, but several minutes went by without anyone speaking. She'd caught that conversation outside, on the patio, where she'd placed her last bug before running from the house and catching a cab.
If she were to go back to Mario's house and give the impression she wanted to talk to Mario and was upset, her presence would be justified. However, Marco wouldn't show the board to Bobby if she were there. Standing and stretching, she began pacing. Her next move could prove to be crucial in advancing this case.
There was one thing she didn't want to have happen: Mario couldn't come here. Taking time to change into a comfortable pair of shorts and tank top, Angela slipped into sandals and began cleaning her hotel room. Jake swore he would have her back, even when she didn't know it. Something told her that was true. As much as it unnerved her, there was also comfort in the thought that he was watching her wherever she was.
After putting her surveillance equipment away and doing a quick sweep of her room, making sure all was in order, Angela headed out, taking the elevator to the lobby. There would be witnesses to her leaving. Maybe she would even say something to the doorman. If Mario came looking for her, her absence wouldn't come across as odd.
"Good evening, miss," the night doorman said, bowing his head and looking at her solemnly with watery gray eyes. The old, thin gentleman was dressed in black tails, just as Benjamin did, but Angela hadn't seen this man before.
"Good evening." She didn't want to sound too cheerful. The doormen knew everything, saw everything, and reported it willingly to anyone who asked. She'd overheard Benjamin, the daytime doorman, gossiping with other guests since she'd started staying here. Although the doormen didn't do anything but stand at the door, since it oscillated or opened automatically, depending on which door you took, their position at this hotel was as icons. Angela knew this man would report her actions, behavior, and anything she said
to him to anyone who might ask.
"Will you be needing a car this evening, miss?"
"I think I'm going to take a walk." She smiled at the older gentleman, but he didn't return the smile. Instead, he nodded seriously. Angela decided a bit more information might be beneficial. "It's been a long day. I won't be out late. I thought I'd see if there was a coffee shop nearby. Just somewhere to go and relax and clear my head."
"Very good, miss. There are several shops nearby that I'm sure you'll find suitable. Feel free to call the hotel if you wish a ride back here." Although the door opened on its own, he still held his hand out, making a show of keeping it open for her when she stepped outside. "Be careful, miss."
Angela waved over her shoulder and walked onto the sidewalk outside. There was moisture in the air, as if it might rain. She felt it cling to her skin and hair almost immediately as she looked up and down the street, deciding which way to go.
Both sides of the street were lit up, and she finally chose the direction she was facing. There were several coffee shops, but Angela started toward a Starbucks sign across the street and a few minutes later was ordering a decaf espresso roast, since it was already getting late and she didn't want to be buzzed all evening. The rich, smooth blend went down easily as she sipped and stared out the glass windows.
Her thoughts continued lingering on heading back to Mario's. She would need to know when he left the house. It would help, as well, to be assured she wouldn't trip any security system around the house. The easiest way to do that would be to simply walk in through the front door. But if Mario wasn't there, she could demand to be allowed to wait for him in his bedroom. They already thought her a slut. If she were in his room, waiting for his return, she would have time to sit at his computer.
But what would she do once he returned? Mario would assume she was there to kiss and make up. Angela knew which direction that would go.
If she headed back to Mario's, she would definitely need backup in place. Just thinking about Jake watching her, every muscle in that perfect body of his tense and ready for action, got her hot. No matter how hard she tried thinking of him only as a partner, as a means to an end of the game, darker, tempting, enticing thoughts wouldn't leave her alone.
Why couldn't she have insisted on someone else for backup?
A man shouldn't be able to turn her on to the point where she couldn't think straight. It wasn't her style to lose control. She was honest by nature, though. Her anger and frustration were directed at her and not Jake, even if she let him feel the brunt end of it. Jake stirred something inside her differently than any other man had. It was almost as if she ached to surrender and allow all that brawn to overwhelm her. But at the same time an overwhelmingly powerful urge to make him submit, see only her, be completely unaware of any other woman on the planet, washed over her and intensified her already-feverish passion. No wonder she was frustrated and angry.
Angela finished her coffee, bought another one, and headed out of the store. In spite of drinking decaf, she was rejuvenated from the hot brew. It helped to convince herself laying out the pros and cons of Jake being her partner and covering backup would make it a hell of a lot easier to understand where to focus in order to keep him from manipulating her thoughts.
She strolled along her side of the street, taking her time returning to the hotel. It was damn hard not to glance around her. Was Jake really trailing her? As much as she wanted to believe he wasn't, he'd told her he would do just that. Jake didn't know she'd witnessed a murder earlier, or did he?
"Crap," she muttered, realizing she hadn't started her mental list intended to clear her head and calm her down.
On instinct she looked over her shoulder. Even at this hour, there were people on the street. They hurried, their heads down. Or small groups strolled in a cluster, chatting as they headed to their destinations. No one cared about her.
When she reached the hotel, she wasn't ready to close herself in her suite for the night. Raw energy still sizzled inside her, making her oversensitive to any noise around her and even to her clothes when they brushed against her skin. At the next corner, she looked both ways before crossing and swore a large figure jumped into the shadows just across the street.
Angela instinctively slipped her hand into her purse where her gun was. Hurrying that way, she reached the spot where she'd seen the figure. It had been under an awning to a clothes store that was closed for the evening. There wasn't anyone there.
"Chasing shadows isn't going to help you any," she grumbled, adjusting her purse under her arm as she glanced around her.
She remained under the awning for a moment, staring at the mannequins dressed in cute outfits. If she was going to push this case forward, she needed to learn the details of the game. If she knew the next play or the play after that, it would help her prepare and know when to make her hit. Angela needed to know where the people Mario had abducted were, and she already had pretty decent confirmation that they were somewhere on Mario's property. She also needed to know who the other players in the game were. Once she had solid proof of all players, Angela could end the game forever. Could she buy herself enough alone time in Mario's room? Everything she needed to bring down the game might be on his computer.
If Mario was going to come after her, his limo would appear in front of the Drake. It would come from the opposite direction from where she stood. He'd either come personally or send someone for her. From where she stood, she could see the front entrance to the hotel. If Mario's limo showed up and he was in it, then he wasn't at home. But that wouldn't give her enough time to go to his house before he returned. Angela almost shrieked when her purse vibrated and her phone began ringing inside.
"What are you doing?" Jake asked when she answered on the first ring.
His deep baritone seeped into her brain like a warm aphrodisiac. Angela felt her insides swell and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, which caused her shorts to rub against her suddenly incredibly sensitive crotch. Her heart still pounded too hard in her chest, and if she didn't sound calm, in control, Jake would pick up on it instantly and he'd demand answers. He might decide to keep a closer eye on her.
Don't even think about where that might lead.
"You said you would always be watching me," she purred, keeping her attention on the well-lit drive in front of the Drake. There were no limos anywhere.
"I know where you are. What I don't understand is why you're standing under the awning of a closed store in the dark. That is, unless you have a second job you haven't told me about."
Angela's cheeks burned and she turned around quickly, half-expecting Jake to be standing right behind her. There was no one there. The side street was dark and quiet in both directions.
But when Jake laughed in her ear, the embarrassment plunging through her soon changed to anger. She wouldn't let him hold the stronger hand. "I'm heading back to Mario's," she announced.
"Miss him already?" Jake grumbled.
Angela smiled. She did hold the upper hand. Jake would have to comply with whatever decision she made on this investigation. His job was to ensure her safety, but he wasn't in a position to call the shots. That was her job.
"Desperately," she said dryly. "There are some new developments."
"There is a bookstore behind you," Jake interrupted. "Check out the fiction section."
"Why would I want to do that?" Angela waited for Jake to answer, but he didn't. She pulled her phone from her ear to see the call had ended. "Son of a bitch," she hissed, focusing again on the Drake before glancing down the street in the direction of the bookstore.
If Mario showed up and she wasn't in her room, he would think she got skittish and disappeared on him. Angela wasn't sure whether that would benefit her case or not.
The bookstore wasn't exactly what she expected. It was very large, with high ceilings and lots of shelves of books, DVDs, and videotapes. But it was an adult bookstore. Angela felt the eyes on her the moment she entered the establi
shment. Her guard went up immediately and she fingered the outside of her purse, feeling the hardness of her gun.
Rows of bookshelves crisscrossed one another, offering a fair amount of privacy for anyone wishing to browse. Angela walked past a couple men, both of whom failed miserably at being subtle when they gave her a curious once-over. She appeared to be the only woman in the store.
Her heart lodged in her throat for a moment when she spotted Jake, sprawled out on a love seat in the corner of the building. He was at the end of the aisle, his long legs sticking out, which would make it impossible to go past him without stepping over them. The love seat was barely noticeable under his massive frame. He leaned against one corner of the seat with his legs crossed at the other end. One arm was draped lazily over the back of the seat while he held a paperback in his other hand.
At first he didn't appear to notice her. He seemed rather involved with the story he was reading. Angela moved closer to him, looking for the first time at the books on the shelves. Some of their titles were rather alarming. She noticed a label above the books she glanced at--Domination/Submission.
As she edged closer to the end of the aisle, it became harder to pay attention to the books. She pulled one out for a good show but was barely aware of the book. So much man sat within feet of her. Her body tingled, memories of him kissing her in his hotel room ransacking her brain. Suddenly it was too warm in the store. Her heart picked up a unique beat, pattering in her chest while her palms grew damp. The air was charged with sexual energy that had nothing to do with the amount of pornographic material surrounding her.
"Do you like the BDSM novels?" Jake asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry Page 12
