Z's story

Z's Story Rae Monet (c) 2005

Z's Story Rae Monet Published 2005 ISBN 1-59578-123-4 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2005, Rae Monet. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Christine Miller Cover Art by Jet Mykles This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication To the people on my Yahoo group, here’s to you guys, thanks for your support!

Prologue “Echo One, this is Echo Five, I'm in pursuit of suspect.” FBI Agent Angel Farin panted as she ran past a boarded up house, her heart pounding in excitement. She sprinted into the alley, the stench so foul she sucked in her breath and held it. The narrow space wasn’t her friend, more than the fact the bums used it as a bathroom; it limited her movement. This part of Chicago wasn’t on the must-see list for out-of-towners. Cars raced by on the other end of the alley, their roars magnified by the close walls. The skinny teen sprinting past a dumpster matched the photo she had in her pocket perfectly. Didn't matter, she would know the kid anywhere; she had been tracking this particular gang of bank robbers for six months. She could pick him out from a crowd of clones, easy. Still running, she frowned. Strange he would take the tracker. This group wasn't sloppy. Taking the electronic device which tracked their location was careless, especially for an experienced bank robbery team like this group. “Roger, Echo Five on our way. Be careful,” her team leader said. “FBI. Stop, now!” Angel pointed her Glock 22 directly at the suspect. He skidded to a halt and turned to face her. “Get down. Get down, now!” The arm that held the bag of money he had taken from the bank twitched; other than that, there was no sign he was going to comply with her orders. Angel tensed, a million thoughts cascading through her mind. Is he armed? He's moving. Is he going to reach for a gun? He's just a kid… Can I shoot him? Will I be able to shoot a fourteen-year-old boy? Am I in the best position to shoot him? I don't have my vest on. If he shoots me—he could kill me. “Get your hands up.” Angel circled around him, trying to place herself in the optimum position for defensive action. He wasn't listening to her. He had that wide-eyed look, the one kids had when they were high on crack, or whatever the drug of the day was. “I will shoot you. Slowly raise your hands.” He wasn't responding to her commands. Then it happened, faster than she dreamed it could. His hand flew to his waist, grabbed something out of his belt, and raised his arm. He moved too fast for her brain to register what he was reaching for. She wasn't positive about taking the shot. She hesitated. Christ, he's a kid. He fired, and suddenly she was sure. As the bullet struck her, she fired her own round. One shot was all she got off before the bullet tore through her shoulder and she went down. Another shot hit her leg. Falling, she was falling. She didn't feel the ground come up and meet her body until she lay flat against it. She didn't feel anything. Strange subjects floated through her mind. My dog, I left Wana inside. If I die, no one will let her out. Everything around her moved in slow motion. Her ears were ringing. The suspect stood over her, pointing his gun directly at her head. Angel squinted as her vision narrowed on the gun. Then the kid turned.

She heard someone yelling at him. He swiveled back to her. She knew at that moment she was staring into the eyes of her executioner, the kid she couldn’t shoot. Her hesitation had caused her death. Another bullet sped through the air. She didn’t feel the pain as it struck her. Warm liquid oozed down the side of her face. Angel dropped her head to the right and tried to see, but her vision blurred. She wanted to raise her arm, wanted to get off another shot, but her limb wouldn't move. It seemed as if someone had tied her arms to the pavement. She could feel her heart pumping, feel it in her head and the slow pulse of her blood dripping out of her body onto the pavement. A voice came, sounding far away although she knew it was nearby. “Get into the car, Sam, you idiot. She's already dead. She's a fucking Federal Agent. There'll be a million cops here in a matter of seconds. Get into the fucking car, ass-wipe! We did what we were ordered to do. Don’t get thrown in jail because of it.” Red, the car was red, old, it was an old car, and the man was a white male, scruffy. With one final look, the kid tucked the gun back into his belt and ran toward the car. He ducked in. She tried to file the facts in her head before she lost consciousness. She knew it was coming, a whirling black hole. She felt it hover on the edge of her brain, waiting to suck her in. The COM attached to her ear blared, the sound piercing. She winced. “Echo Five, status? Echo Five, where are you? Echo Five, report. Angel, what's happening?” In a last ditch effort to save her life, Angel slid her arm off the pavement to her COM. It took all her remaining energy to press the broadcast button. “I'm down, shot, corner of ninth and Sorell. Need ambulance.” Her hand dropped back to the pavement, her strength seeping out of her along with her lifeblood. “Angel, Angel, shit … hang in there. Help's on the way.” Right. Easy for him to say. She closed her eyes as the world disappeared.

Chapter One “Zeik, where are you?” Holding up the newspaper to cover his face, Carlos Zeik pressed a button under his shirt. The wire was connected to the Secret Service issue COM, the earpiece that was tucked in his ear barely visible. “I'm in the coffee shop. Got an eye on the suspect,” he murmured. “Amazing what you can find in one of these places. Like the girlfriend of a murderer. Stand by.” “I told you to stay outside.” By the saw-edged tone of her voice, his boss, Special Agent Jo Clarin—a force to be reckoned with—was not happy. Zeik shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. Jo was a little over seven months pregnant, coordinating this well planned operation from her desk and as grumpy as a mama bear awakened early from her winter nap. Zeik and all of the other agents tried to keep out of her way. He’d begun the surveillance by lurking outside the corner of 78th street and International. But as much as he tried to fit in, his blond surfer-goes-to-college looks didn’t blend in with the gang members and the occasional working girl strolling by. He was as out of place in this neighborhood as the locals would be on Rodeo Drive. It wouldn't take them long to spot him, and when you were fingered as a Law Enforcement Officer in Oakland, it came in the form of a bullet. “Needed to come inside. Let me do my job, Jo.” He kept his voice low. He didn't want to be made by the suspect's girlfriend, Callie Jones. She was their link to the fugitive of the day, a major gangbanger wanted for murder and she was sitting in the coffee shop not twenty feet away. Callie's boyfriend was Jacob Warner, a career criminal who, if Zeik had his way, would be delivered into Federal custody very soon. “Okay, Z.” She sounded as if she spoke through clenched teeth. “It's your case. Run it the way you want.” Thank you. He sat back in the chair to watch Callie while he sipped his coffee. He'd worked under Jo Clarin for nearly five years now. It was time to break off on his own. The squad used him, his looks and his smarts, to get what they wanted. He wasn't bitter. He had skills that would catapult him to the top of his career with the FBI. He’d learned what he could from Jo, and now it was his turn to run an operation. Making up his mind to get the action started, he held his still warm cup of coffee, got up and walked to the counter. The mousy counter girl simpered under his smile. Using a small amount of charm and a little social engineering, he found out what his target was drinking and ordered one. He approached Callie's table, the two coffees in his hands. Sliding into the chair across from her, he pasted on his I-think-you're-gorgeous smile and set the coffees down. “How ya doing today?” Callie glanced up from her book. She smiled back, her face turning a subtle shade of pink. She was sweet and so young, a shame she was shacked up with such a loser. He noticed she sported a black eye unsuccessfully covered by makeup. In that instant, he decided what tactic to play.

“What's a beautiful woman like you doing here all alone?” He pushed the coffee toward her. “And in need of a refill, as well.” “Oh, wow, thanks.” She flipped her hand back and forth. Nervous; she was nervous. He knew what she saw; a good-looking man paying attention to her, telling her she was pretty. Parking his elbow on the table, he rested his chin in his hand and studied her. He let his expression show the real concern he felt. “Tell me where the man who beat you is and I'll take care of him for you. A woman like you should be cherished, not abused.” Her hand flew to her eye and she sucked in an audible breath. “No, no, it's not what you think.” He captured her flailing hand in his. Gently, he turned it over. He rubbed his thumb over her palm, feeling the calloused and rough skin. This woman lived a difficult life. His eyes connected with hers as he slowly raised her palm to his lips and pressed a kiss in the middle. “Way too beautiful to be beat on.” Her eyes widened, tears welling up. “Tell me where Jacob Warner is, Callie. I swear I'll protect you. I’ll see to it, personally.” She snatched her hand from his and sat back in her chair. She stared at him, horror in her doe brown eyes. He held out his hand in greeting. “FBI Special Agent Carl Zeik, at your service.” He winked. Her teeth chewed on her lower lip. She hesitated, making him think of a filly that needed soothing. “I’ve never make a promise I can't keep,” he whispered as he moved his hand closer to hers. She jerked further back. “I swear it.” He kept his voice low with a sleepy quality, his ‘horse whisperer’ voice, Jo called it. Tentatively, she inched her hand forward. Bit by bit, she laid her hand into his and clasped down. “Where is he?” “You swear I'll be safe? You promise? He'll kill me,” she squeaked out, her voice breaking off in a sob. He released her hand. Using his thumb, he wiped the single tear from her face. He loved women, all women, tall and short, wide or small. Jo joked God made him to please women. And this girl touched his heart. “I swear,” he said. She gave him a single nod. “945 Orchard Street, apartment five. He's dangerous, has a bunch of guns and is drunk most the time. Don't go in alone or he'll kill you.” “Is there a back door?” When she nodded, Zeik bounced to his feet and pointed at her. “Don't leave here.” He spoke into COM. “Jo, 945 Orchard Street. Get SWAT. He's in a bad mood. I'll lead them.” “Roger that. I'm on it. How did you get the information? Please don't tell me it’s fruit from the poisonous tree. I don’t want to jeopardize a case for you by getting information illegally.” Zeik rolled his eyes. “I used my God-given gift.” “Ahhh, Z, you charmed her.”

Striding out of the coffee shop, Zeik smiled. “Yeah, I used my charm. I want an agent over here to pick up Callie. Need to get her into protective custody until we pick this bastard up.” “You got it.” “Thanks. Let's meet at the office for an ops briefing, then hit it. I need to grab a judge.” “Roger that, see ya there.” **** Zeik stood in front of a group of over thirty agents. They were sprawled all over the office conference room, some in chairs, some sitting on the conference room table, and some standing. Against the wall was a huge gold shield with the words ‘Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity,’ the watchful eye of the FBI. The enlarged badge reminded him of their mission as he planned his operation. Zeik pointed to the white board. “There are two points of entry, here and here.” He touched the front and back door on the sketch. “We can expect him to be armed and dangerous. I've got an after-hours warrant, guys. No knock. Be quick, if you know what I mean. Here's the operation plan.” He snatched papers off a desk and started passing them out. “There's a photo in there of Warner.” As the team read his plan and memorized Jacob Warner's menacing face, Zeik grabbed his tactical vest and slipped it on. The letters FBI stood out in bright yellow on the front of the vest. His movements automatic, he slipped on his protective SWAT hood. He'd been a member of SWAT for three years, an added duty for all Violent Crimes agents. “Ready?” he asked. The room erupted in a wave of affirmatives. “Sandy, you're with me. Jim, take the back.” “On it,” Sandy said, his voice gruff. His squad and SWAT mates, Jim Ellis and Sandy Krane, jumped up, ready for action. Jim was tall and slim like a marathon runner, with a shiny bald head and tidy scruff of a goatee. Sandy supported a short hairstyle left over from his military days. With Sandy you could take the soldier out of the active duty service, but you could never take the Marine out of him. They'd trained, worked, and partied together for years. Working with men like these was the reason why he was alive and breathing. The best of the best, that's what they called their squad. He slid onto the chair next to Jo. Gently, he rubbed her bulging belly. “Can't come out on this one, boss,” he said. “Not this time. Troy would kill me.” She overlapped his hand with her own. “I know. It's okay. You have it covered. Nice work. Be careful, OK?” Lately there were times the lioness turned into a pussycat. It was a miracle to see, this strong woman softened with the gift of pregnancy. Obviously, her hormones were fluctuating, scary one minute, lovable the next. There were times when he didn’t know whether to hug or growl at her. “I'll be fine.” He patted her belly. “Take care of Troy, Jr.” Troy Vinstonie was her husband and former world famous NASCAR driver. Zeik had never seen such a deep, binding love as they had. He envied them.

“Go get that bastard.” She poked her finger at him, her expression stern. “He's been a thorn in our side for over a year.” “You got it.” He jumped up and followed his squad out the door. **** “Ready the ram.” He steadied the MP-5 assault rifle in his hands. He could see the apartment from the surveillance van. The white-sided, brick-front building sat in a fairly crowded middle class neighborhood. An outside apartment, this was good. It was early, the horizon still pink from the rising sun, most people still asleep. The street was quiet, not even birds chirping. As if sensing an approaching battle, they’d flown away. Now his squad was getting ready to wake up the area. “Five Delta, radio check. You ready?” he questioned over the general COM. “Roger, Five Delta here,” his leader spoke into his ear. “We read you, five by five. Standing by for the green.” “Go. Go. Go,” he said calmly into his radio. Even though he felt energy pulsing in his blood and every cell was at attention, now was not the time to let adrenaline get the best of him. Ten agents sprinted in formation toward the door. Another set would be coming from the back, the remainder surrounding the side of the house. Zeik joined the front group. His heaviest agent took the battering ram and busted the door as if it was kindling. The team raced into the apartment, each taking his assigned route, some right, some left. Zeik went down the middle. They meticulously cleared each room. He sensed the tension, so thick it seeped into his bones. Until they found their suspect, everyone would be on edge. “Clear,” he screamed as he moved into the next room. Faster than he could blink, a tall, heavyset thug jumped from around the corner with a shotgun cradled in his hands. Jacob Warner. Zeik reacted without thought. Pivoting his body to the right, he turned, brought his hands up, grabbed Warner’s arm, gave the gangbanger’s wrist a violent twist and snatched the gun right out of his beefy hands. Just like they taught me to do in training, he thought and inwardly smiled. Sandy immediately tackled Warner, taking him to the ground and cuffing him before he could spit. “God damn, Sandy, nice tackle.” Zeik thumped Sandy's back. “Thought he was going to take you out with that shotgun, Z.” Zeik pushed Jacob over onto his back and began a full body search. He pulled a knife from Warner’s pants and another gun from his belt. He handed the weapons to Sandy, who cleared the gun and pocketed the knife. Warner was swearing something, fierce words like, “fuck you pig, get off me, you’re hurting me.” Zeik felt no sympathy for him. “Nah, I had it all under control,” Zeik said, back to normal. All in a day's work. They were still alive, weren't they? “However, let's just say at that moment, I was happy to be teamed with a combat trained and tried Marine.” Sandy chuckled as Zeik hauled Jacob to his feet. “And you, Jacob Warner, are under arrest for murder,” Zeik said. “I'm happy to inform you this time you get Federal prosecution as a career criminal.” Zeik pressed his COM button. “Jo, we're bringing Jacob home.” He heard a hint of pride in his own voice and didn't feel embarrassed.

This case had been his from the very beginning. He'd been trying to nab Jacob for over a year. Now he tasted victory, and it was sweeter than the flavor of his favorite beer. “Nice work, Z. Jack Farin needs to talk to us when you get back.” “Roger that. On my way in.” With Sandy's hand locked on one of Jacob's arms and Zeik's on the other, the man didn't stand a chance of escape. “What does Farin need?” “Don't know, but he specifically asked for you and me.” “All right, see ya in a few.” **** Supervisor Special Agent Jack Farin sat back in his high back leather chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. Usually calm and collected, it appeared Jack hadn't slept in a week. His thick hair was tousled and new lines scored the corners of his eyes. “I asked you both here, not for a professional reason, but for a personal one.” Zeik shifted in his seat and raised a single eyebrow at Jo. She shrugged and gave him her I-don't-know expression. “It's my daughter.” Jack's face softened. Zeik frequently saw the same look on Jo's face when she talked about Troy. “Sir, I didn't know you had a daughter,” Zeik said. Jack pulled a photo from his wallet and set it on his desk. Zeik leaned forward and picked up the picture. He felt as if he'd been hit over the head with an anvil. The woman in the photograph was exquisite. She had long raven hair, light green eyes with an exotic tilt, dark brown chocolate skin and a smile that nearly knocked him out. A shiver tripped down his body. He swallowed. He'd never had such a strong reaction to a picture of a woman before. “Her mother and I met in Hungary, when I was training in Budapest. She was a law enforcement officer from India,” Jack said. Zeik nodded, still holding the picture, not wanting to let it go. That explained her exotic look, her foreign appearance. “Carl,” Jack continued, “I know you've worked undercover at Berkeley College.” Zeik glanced at Jo, hoping for some sort of answers. She shrugged. “Um, yeah,” he said. “Sure, all the time. I look young enough to blend in.” “Something's wrong,” Jack mumbled. His fingers drummed his desk and he appeared to be speaking to himself instead of Zeik and Jo. “I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand.” Zeik frowned. Jack was falling apart in front of him. This was getting creepy. “What's going on?” Urgency rang in Jo's voice. Jack lifted his head, his fingers stilling as he snapped out of his musing. He took a deep breath, his bulky chest expanding. “Angel used to be an FBI Agent in Chicago.” Zeik mentally whistled. “Really, what Squad?” Jo asked as she took the picture of Angel from Zeik. “She worked Violent Crimes, like us. The Bank Robbery Squad.” “Wow, really? Is she still there?” Jo handed the photo back to Zeik. He gazed at it, as if caught in a spell, even as he tried to peel his eyes away from her compelling image and listen to Jack. “She quit. Left after a shooting.”

Zeik sat up in his chair, his gut clenching. Somehow, he knew the answer before Jack said it. He remembered now. An agent was shot in Chicago over a year ago. Agents weren't often shot, and when they were, you listened and learned. The higher ups didn't give too many details on this one, kept it under wraps for some reason. Maybe that's why it remained in his memory. Unfinished business. “Jack, it wasn't her, was it?” Jo's fist clenched in her lap. “The one shot last year?” “Yes.” Jack's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. “What happened?” “We were never really clear. Only Angelina knows the story and she can't remember. The squad was following a suspect. He'd taken a tracker from the bank. They had his position narrowed down. Angel arrived first. Next thing the squad knew they were getting a call she was down. She was shot.” He tapped the side of his face, at his temple. “In the head.” Zeik’s heart pounded furiously. For some reason, he didn't want to hear the rest, but he knew he had to. “Three shots, one to the shoulder, one to the head, and one to the leg. She doesn't remember anything, not much at all. Not just the shooting, but the whole case. After her recovery, she quit and took a teaching job out here, at Berkeley.” “Lately…” Jack loosened his tie and ran his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more, wisps sticking up in the air. “Lately she's been out of sorts. I can't describe it. She came for dinner the other night. In the middle of our meal she received a call. I could hear her asking someone how they had gotten her number. She seemed scared. That's not like her.” Jo leaned forward. “Jack…” He held up his hands. “She's a strong woman, rarely frightened by anything, but when she came back to the table she was white as a sheet. Her hands were shaking so bad she couldn't hold her water glass. I asked her what was wrong. She blew me off. Said it was a wrong number. I know it wasn't. She’s never been a good liar.” He paused and swallowed. “I'm worried.” “Did they catch the man who shot her?” Zeik asked. “No. The case was left unresolved and closed.” His open hand slapped down on the desktop. “Do you think the phone call has something to do with the case?” “I don't know. I had the files pulled and sent from Chicago.” He pointed to the folders on his desk. About five, crammed full. “There are also several boxes logged into the evidence room.” “Wow.” Jo grabbed a folder and started flipping through it. “I know you guys are really busy, but I'm asking as a favor, Jo. Could you release Zeik to help?” She glanced at Zeik. He nodded. “Sure, Jack,” she said. “What can we do?” “I want Zeik to analyze her case. Study it.” He turned to speak directly to Zeik. “Then I want you to go undercover, enrolling in one of Angel's classes. Get to know her, befriend her. See if I'm going crazy or something is going on.” Zeik blew out a strained breath. “What will happen if she finds out you sent me?” “She'll never forgive me.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Zeik began loading the files into his arms. “I'll be enrolled by tomorrow. What does she teach?” “Criminal Justice.” “Perfect.” Zeik stood and moved to leave. “Happens to be the only class I needed to finish my degree.” “Zeik. Thanks.” Zeik nodded, pretending he didn't see the moisture in Jack's eyes. “No problem. No problem at all.” And he meant every word. He never believed in psychic powers but couldn’t shake the feeling everything that had happened so far in his life had led to this assignment: To watch over Angel.

Chapter Two Zeik plopped his feet on his aged coffee table and tipped the last slug of his Coke into his mouth. With the file on his lap, he scanned the case Angel Farin had been working. It was late, quiet, the time of the day he enjoyed most of all. When he could store his gun and be himself and not out to save the world. It was a simple bank robbery case. Nothing unusual. He’d worked similar cases for years now. He dug deeper into the file, reading through it piece by piece, every single paper. Scrutinizing every investigative step. The case was a classic violent serial bank robbery takeover team. Bad guys, the kind who run into banks wearing modified ski masks, their guns out, murder not an issue. Typical MO, yelling, “Get down! If anyone moves you’ll get killed.” They immobilize the guard immediately. Then they jump over the counters, take the top and bottom drawer cash, screaming there better be no trackers or bait money, taking the surveillance video. Zeik scowled at the papers on his lap. This group had to be experienced to know about trackers, bait money and the video. One of the suspects called out times, so they were aware of their limit. No matter how much they screamed for no one to hit the alarm, without a doubt some Good Samaritan worker bee always did. This group knew that, racing out of the bank in less than sixty seconds. Nice and clean. He flipped to another page and fingered the photos of possible suspects. They were all young, a mixture of races, some previously jailed for bank robbery, some not. Angel had outlined three main suspects. One was circled with red. A kid who looked no older than fifteen. Samuel Cross. Zeik checked the birth date and arrest record. Sure enough, fourteen years old at the time of the robberies. He shook his head and continued thumbing his way through the file. No one had been positively identified during the robberies. That was the thing about bank robbers; they were stupid enough to be smart. They masked and gloved up before robbing a bank. No prints, no good photos and no DNA. But after they left the bank, they did dumb things and that’s where the evidence came from. This group used a drop vehicle. Typical. One of the robbers was seen at the carswitching site located in a peaceful neighborhood about two miles east of the bank. That was their second mistake. From there, a partial ID was made. Then they left all sorts of useful items in the drop car. Usually they would steal the vehicles the night or day before the bank robbery, but this group had taken the car two days prior, which indicated to Zeik they’d begun to feel as if they couldn’t be caught. The good news was they left one of their masks and an empty beer can in the car. From those, DNA was extracted. Several of the robbers had DNA profiles in the system and two other suspects were identified. This was no simple “note job” group. A group like this, who knew about trackers and drop vehicles, had to be backed by someone important. Probably organized crime, maybe even a gang heavy into extracurricular activities, drugs, whatever would bring in the cash, and quickly.

Angel had tracked this group on twelve takeover bank robberies. They weren’t messing around. One of the robberies resulted in a homicide. And toward the end, they were taking the vault, spending more time in the bank. Becoming overconfident. He pulled out the last folder. This was the final robbery, when Angel was shot. Same MO, only on this one they had taken a tracker. Usually, this group threw the trackers out of the car as soon as they left the bank, leading the police on a wild chase through the city. But this time they hadn’t, and the police, along with Angel and the rest of her squad, were honing in on the signal when Angel encountered the group. He wondered why they had taken the tracker. He didn’t like it, smelled like a set-up to him. He slid the folder shut. The cases were simply closed. He threw the file onto the couch. He needed to check and see where her three main suspects were now. Jumping up, he grabbed his coat. Though it was near midnight and he had his first day of class tomorrow, he was going to the office and run all those losers. **** Zeik tried to keep his eyes open as he sat in the college classroom in a front row seat. He was recognized at Berkeley, known as simply Z. His undercover name was Zee Carlos. He tried to keep it simple. A complicated undercover name was asking for trouble when you were tired and had to recall your identity. He’d been working UC at the college on and off for three years. Mainly he tracked potential terrorist suspects, people who had given the FBI probable cause to believe they were ripe for activity. He slid on his glasses. He only used them when he was at the college. They made him look studious, and non-threatening. Only glass with no prescription, they served their purpose. Students filtered into the classroom, filling the seats around him. He wore baggy, hip hugging, cargo pants and a tight fitting plain ribbed t-shirt. He needed to fit in. At the office, Jo had whistled at him and told him how sexy he looked, making a comment about if she wasn’t married and pregnant … then growing irritated and saying he always looked like a male model ready for a photo shoot. He ran a hand through his golden brown hair, tousling it a little more, tucking the length behind one ear. The just-got-out-of-bed appearance was in for college kids. “Hey, Z, back this quarter, I see.” Little Jennifer stood in front of him, her books clutched to her chest. She was shy, cute, the perfect picture of a girl next door. Zeik smiled back. He’d befriended her a couple years ago when her boyfriend was fingered in an abortion clinic bombing. They soon found out he didn’t do it, so Zeik drifted away from her friendship. He stood and gave her a quick just-friends hug. She gave him a hopeful smile. “Maybe we can grab a coffee together later?” He slid his hands into his pockets, trying to appear casual. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but this time he was at the college for a different purpose. “Maybe. I’m pretty busy this quarter.” He hated to do it because she was a sweet girl, but he was going to have to blow her off. Setting himself up as the teacher’s research assistant as well as a student was easy, a great position to be in to get close to Angel. “Okay, okay, no problem.” Averting her head, she skittered off to her seat. Zeik sat down, feeling like a piece of crap and reminding himself he was the good guy.

Another man shuffled into class, wearing much of the same attire as Zeik. Zeik stood again and smiled. The other college kids called him K, the mover and shaker. K knew everyone important to know in Berkeley. Zeik had used him about a half dozen times. “Dude.” K held out his fist. Zeik pounded his fist against K’s. They did their move, a flutter of fingers, then reversed their fists and hit them on the other side. “What’s happening, K?” “Not much. Doing my thing, dude. You know, always doing my thing. You here for the quarter?” Zeik grinned. K’s 80’s vocabulary amused him and their initials were a standing joke between them. Because K came before Z, Kyle Kelley thought he was more important. “Yeah, need to pick up this last class toward my major, helping the teacher with some extra research assistant credits.” “Cool, dude. Let’s party while you’re here.” “Nah, got to hunker down on this one.” “That sucks.” “Yeah, I know. Wouldn’t want daddy takin’ away the funds, man, know what I mean?” Zeik used his college talk, cool and smooth, never any lengthy discussions. “Don’t I ever.” K nodded, one trust fund baby to another. “I didn’t think you had a Criminal Justice requirement in your major?” Zeik said. “I don’t, but the chick that teaches this class is hot. Aren’t you lucky, dude, to be her assistant?” K placed his hand on his heart and grinned like a before shot in a teeth whitening commercial. “Catch ya later.” He clapped Zeik on the shoulder and found his seat. Sitting back down, Zeik tugged his book in front of him and started thumbing through the pages. A woman came flying into the room so fast her books tumbled all over the floor. He jumped to his feet and gathered up the books. “Thanks.” Zeik nodded while he studied the woman. Face flushed a subtle shade of pink, she had straight long black hair, beautiful light brown skin, and her eyes were an iced light green. Angel Farin in the flesh, and more beautiful than her photograph. He noticed she favored her left arm. As she took the books, her arm didn’t extend, remaining slightly crooked. Zeik saw her lips tighten with frustration and her jaw clench. He plucked the books out of her hands. “Can I stack these for you?” “Um, oh, sure, yes. Please place them on the table.” He complied, and sat back down. She began to draw items from her bag, a stack of papers, notes, and a book. “Okay.” She projected her voice and addressed the class, plucking a piece of chalk from the board. “I’m Angel Farin, your professor this quarter.” She wrote her name on the board. “This class is Criminal Justice 301, so if you’re not supposed to take this class, now is the time to make a run for it. Who’s my teaching assistant this quarter?” Zeik raised his hand. Turning, she nodded at him. “Would you mind, um…?” “Zee,” he said. “Great, Zee, would you mind passing these out for me?” She pointed to a stack of papers on the desk. “Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks.” She turned back to the board and wrote a phone number. “This is my phone number for those of you who need to contact me during this course. We have a lot of information to cover today. Zee is handing out a syllabus for this quarter’s class. This includes all the test dates, when the major assignments are due, and all other detailed information you’ll need for the class. He will assist you with basic questions.” Zeik finished handing out the papers and took his seat. He enjoyed being teacher’s pet. Zeik smiled to himself. He liked her, her humor, her looks, and the way she moved. “You’ll find me an upfront teacher,” she said, and he focused his attention on her. “I’m not here to trick you. I’m here to teach you. So you don’t stress over the details. You’ll find in the syllabus outline a description of each test and which material will be covered. I see no feasible reason why you can’t all do well in this class.” She turned from the board and sat with her hip leaning against the table. “Let me tell you about me. I have a bachelor’s degree in Business, a master’s degree in Criminal Justice. I’m a certified teacher with the State of California. I was an active FBI agent for eight years in Violent Crimes prior to teaching. Don’t ask me a bunch of questions about what I used to do in the FBI. National Security regulations preclude me from discussing details of my service. However, I will make references to closed cases and areas of interest which are public knowledge, if I feel it benefits our class work.” She stood and walked to the side of the room, where she pulled a tall chair away from the wall. Zeik took a quick scan around. Every guy was watching her with their mouths half open. The girls watched too, most with admiration but a few with their mouths tight and eyes narrowed, as if searching for a zit or a wrinkle. “A previous injury has made it difficult for me to stand for lengthy time periods, so I might choose to sit during our class. Hopefully, this won’t bother most of you.” Zeik could see heads shaking negatively. “Good. Let’s get started. Please open your books to chapter one.” For the next hour Zeik was wowed on her knowledge of the class material and the Criminal Justice System. “That’s it for today, guys,” she said finally. “My last class, have a great evening.” Zeik checked his watch. It was 4:00 p.m. already. He had chosen her last class on purpose. As the class dribbled out of the room, he took his time packing up his book bag. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She struggled with her bag, packing it and trying to heft it over her shoulder, but it wasn’t working. Finally, she dumped it onto the floor and crossed her arms. He slid his backpack on and approached her. Trying to act casual, he hauled her bag onto his shoulder and gave her one of his charming smiles. “Let me take this for you, Ms. Farin.” She opened her mouth, her brows contracting. “It’s not a problem,” he said before she could protest. “Looks like you’re supporting an injured shoulder there. This your first year teaching here? I haven’t seen you before. I’m Zee Carlos, fourth year student. I’m happy to help you this quarter. This year, I finish my degree, then off to the police academy.” He deliberately used his charm, hoping to give her a sense of security, steering her toward trusting him.

She sighed and massaged her shoulder. He took a few steps toward the door, hoping she would follow. She did. “Yes, my first year and my first teaching assignment here,” she said. “I left the Bureau last year. As you picked up, I’ve been recovering from an injury. Kept me down for a while. Thanks for…” She waved her hand and smiled. He whistled to himself. Man, her smile could knock someone out. Standing this close, he saw the outline of a scar on her temple. That would be the last shot she had taken. According to the report he’d read three times, imprinting the details in his memory, the first hit her shoulder, the second lodged in her leg, and the third grazed her temple. The bullet in her shoulder resulted in several months of surgery. It had shattered bone and ligaments. Her hair was shorter than in the picture, likely a result of needing it shaved due to the head injury. Still, it framed her coffee toned face like a halo of black. “Why don’t I help you get your bearings?” he said, giving her his smile again. “I’ve been here for four years now. I can show you around. Help you with any lesson plan you want. Whatever.” “Thanks, Zee, I’d appreciate that.” Zeik was partial to the way she said his name, even if it wasn’t exactly his name. He felt comfortable with her, as if he’d known her since childhood. “So you’re off to the police academy next year?” “That’s the plan. We’ll see. There are so many options for me. I might go on to law school.” “That’s great. Good for you.” He noticed she limped slightly, and he walked slower. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” he asked. “There’s a coffee shop outside the front gate. I’ll fill you in on all the happenings in the area, and you can tell me your expectations.” She stopped and looked at him, biting her lower lip. He paused with her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m a teacher, you’re a student.” He began walking again, happy when she trailed behind him. They turned down the hall. Several students rushed past them, in a hurry to get out the exit door. “Aw, come on. I’m a senior and way older than any of these other students. I’m one class away from graduating. I’m also your research assistant. Do you really think it’s a problem to go for coffee with me?” She sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Yes, I’d like a cup of coffee.” They made their way to the exit. In front of them was a long stretch of steps going outside. “Okay then.” He held out his arm so he could help her down the steps. She placed her fingers on his bicep, but a line furrowed across her forehead. “It’s hard for me to be dependent on other people.” Her fingers tightened on his muscle. “Sometimes I feel so helpless.” He linked his fingers on top of hers. “It doesn’t hurt to accept help. It’s my pleasure.” Her skin was smooth and she smelled like his grandma’s garden of sweet pea flowers in the height of hot summer. The combination was arousing him into a dangerous place. She clutched his bicep to steady herself. “Thanks, Zee.”

He opened the door and they left the building. He led her down the concrete path to the front where the coffee shop sat across the street, looking inviting. “No problem.” He found himself angry about her injuries and had a burning need to catch the bastards who inflicted them. He was also pleased with the way she was trusting him; it made it easier to get closer. His attraction to her would have to be stifled. Besides being the person he was watching over, she was the boss’ daughter. **** Only a few tables were taken at the coffee shop. After they ordered their coffee, Angel followed Zee to a low table in the corner with large lounge chairs and a built-in chessboard. Angel sipped her coffee, the smell of mocha wafting up, comforting. She leaned her chin against her hand and stared at Zee. He was attractive in a Levi jeans’ model kind of way with his long shaggy blond hair, that sexy 1970’s skateboarder style now coming back into fashion. He wore baggy cargo pants and a tight white shirt showing off all his muscles. She guessed he was around twenty-nine years old. Not an unusual age for senior students. Some started late in life, some took breaks. He removed his glasses. He had brown eyes the color of light bourbon. Nice. They chatted about nondescript subjects for over an hour. She briefed him on what she expected from him in his role as her assistant. She learned about him, the man inside. He liked his coffee with sugar, loved rainy, windy days and he hated to take tests. He wished he could have a dog, but his apartment manager wouldn’t let him, and he’d love to meet her dog. He was adorable. Full of energy, chatting on, and letting her into his world with ease. His looks, his positive personality, and his easygoing manner gelled into one hell of a sexy package. His muscles flexed as he reached for the sugar, hard and defined. Angel felt a stirring she thought long dormant—sensual awareness. Since the shooting, she’d been focused on recovery. She wasn’t interested in dating, hadn’t been attracted to any man in a sexual way since returning from the hospital. This reaction surprised her. She pictured them cuddling in front of a warm fire as she nestled in this man’s arms. “So what brought you to Berkeley, California?” he asked. She grabbed a napkin off the table and began shredding it in her lap, where he couldn’t see. This is the part she hated, talking about herself. A big reason why she didn’t date. Thinking about her life brought headaches, headaches brought memories, and memories meant pain. “My parents live here. I want to be close to them. They’re not getting any younger.” She deposited the shredded napkin on the table. “Makes sense.” Zeik picked up the napkin and studied her handiwork. “What about you? Did you grow up here?” He set the napkin back down on the table and answered, “Yep, born and raised in the Bay area.” “Family?” she asked. “Yep, you?” “Just my parents. I have a sister back East,” she said. “So what do you do for fun, Angel?”

She picked up another napkin and was going in for the kill when he laid his hand over hers. She hesitated. “Fun. Oh. Nothing, been really busy, moving, teaching.” She shrugged. “You know.” She felt the heat of his touch all the way to her toes. His grip was firm, his hands rough and calloused. It had been a couple years since she experienced the simple touch of a man. Work was all she focused on until the accident, then recovery was her close companion. Angel studied him, a yellow caution light blinking in her mind. This man could have any woman he wanted, so why was he so dead set at charming her? Something was off. She wasn’t a ravishing beauty, she was a small town college teacher and a washed out FBI Agent. What was he doing? She tilted her head, the former FBI agent buried deep inside her leaping to life. Why her? What did he want? Her gaze narrowed and she wiggled her fingers under his. He slowly lifted his hand. “Sure, I know what it’s like to be busy.” He picked up the napkin and her empty cup and threw them into the trash. “But sometimes it pays to have some fun.” “Yeah, well…” Angel ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not sure how long it will be before I have time for fun again. Pretty busy.” She decided to cut this coffee break short. Maybe what she’d gone through had made her paranoid, but too many questions simmered in her mind like a boiling pot she couldn’t turn off. And even if he was the real thing, a hunky man who took one look at her gimpy body and fell into lust, he was still her student. Struggling to stand, she winced. Damn leg. This morning she had worked it hard and now she was feeling the effects. “Okay?” Zeik’s brows furrowed in concern. Despite the ache in her leg—and her suspicions—she smiled. “Yeah, a little stiff,” she said. “I had physical therapy this morning. It will be fine in a couple of days.” “Here, let me take this. Where’s your car?” He shouldered her book bag as if it weighed nothing. Angela admired his flexing muscles when he threw her bag over his shoulder. She mentally chastised herself. Zee was her student, plus she distrusted his motives, although his smooth talk made her want to forget her qualms. He could suck her into a relationship easier than a candy bar gobbled by a dieter. It was fantastic going down, then the guilt ate at you. “It’s in the teacher’s lot,” she said, aware of the silence stretching too long. He began his slow walk, one she was already beginning to recognize. At his height, well over six feet, he certainly slowed his normal pace for her. Again, another consideration on his part. If it wasn’t an act, he was a people pleaser. A man who wanted to help others. She could see him as a police officer. There was a sense of righteousness about him. He even looked like a cop. She trailed after him, painfully weaving her way around the coffee shop tables. She was beginning to like him more and more by the minute. Dangerous, her thoughts whispered to her. The warning light in her mind burned brighter. “Really, Zee, you don’t have to walk me to my car.”

He glanced back, opening the exit door. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” “Okay.” She shrugged her good shoulder. No reason to over-analyze every little thing. He was walking her to her car, that’s all. They made their way across the street and back to the school. It was a sunny day in California. Late October, when the leaves began to turn, and the air smelled fresh after the rain from the night before. Angel sucked in a breath and enjoyed being alive and able to walk down the street. “It’s a nice time of year, huh?” Zeik watched her as they walked. “Is it your favorite?” He’d been doing that for the last hour. Asking her probing questions. She’d been avoiding them for the most part, turning the queries around to him. “What’s yours?” “Nuh uh. Not this time. This time you tell me.” He’d caught on. An intelligent guy. She shrugged. No harm in answering. “I like Christmas, despite the stress. I enjoy the simple pleasures of the holiday, decorating the tree, giving gifts.” “Ahhhh, that’s what I thought.” They approached the teachers’ lot. Zeik stepped around her and opened the gate. It placed him close, his warmth seeping into her. She could smell his scent, a spicy aftershave combined with that unique smell she could only describe as male. For a moment, she hesitated. She missed the heat of a man. It was as simple as that. She hadn’t realized how much until Zee eased his way into her life. Appearing not to notice her wavering, he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her through the fence. His touch sent her heart skipping a beat. Wow! She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Excited, she was excited. She pointed to her dark blue Honda. “There she is, and a fine dependable car Little Nessie has been.” “Little Nessie?” He chuckled, taking her keys from her hand and opening her car. After storing her book bag, he straightened. Angel leaned back against her car and folded her arms. “Thanks, Zee, I appreciate it.” He moved closer to her, pinning her in with his stare. “What time do you come in the morning? If I’m around … I’ll look for you, help you.” “You don’t…” He took one more step, slanting his arm on the car next her. “Angel, I don’t mind.” Feeling breathless, she sucked air into her lungs before she could speak. “I’m here by nine-thirty. My first class is at ten. I teach three classes a day.” Man, he is big, she thought. She didn’t really notice how large he was until he stood so close. She craned her neck to make eye contact with him. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said, his light brown eyes compelling. It was a statement, not a question. She bristled. He seemed to realize his mistake. “Please?” “Zee, what are you doing?” she asked. She had to know his motivation. Something wasn’t adding up. He straightened and a wary expression came into his eyes. “What do you mean?” “Why are you striking up a friendship with me?”

He lifted his arms and took a couple steps back, his lips compressing into a thin line. At first she thought she had annoyed him, but his face cleared, his emotions masked. “I asked you to dinner because I like you. Does it need to be more complicated than that?” His voice took on a chastising quality. She ducked her head, and was hit with a brainstorm. “No, sorry. I’d love to go to dinner with you. Let’s play it by ear.” Yeah, she thought, I want to find out what in the hell you’re up to. Was it possible her father had sent Zee to watch her for some reason? She wouldn’t put anything past her dad. “Great.” He nodded and waited for her to get into her car. She walked around to the driver side. Clenching her jaw, she eased herself into the car, forcing herself not to grimace when pain shot through her leg. She looked out the window at Zee. He waved at her. She waved back and started her car. As she drove past him, she smiled. She wanted to know who Zee Carlos was. She’d give him two weeks, and if the little red flag snapping in her mind didn’t ease down she still had connections. She was calling in some favors.

Chapter Three As he listened to Jo’s ravings, Zeik eased his feet under his desk and leaned back in the chair, assuming his usual relaxed pose. Man, being pregnant sure made her grumpy. His squad mates—Sandy, Jim and Lion—sat around him. Randy ‘the Lion’ Reinhart was a huge softy of a man with a tattoo of a roaring lion on his bicep. A Vin Diesel double, he should be bouncing at the local strip club. He’d been working with Angel for two weeks now, easing closer and closer with each meeting, each cup of coffee. They had a routine; he would meet her in the morning, help her haul in her books. He talked her into letting him take all three of her classes and as the last class came to a close, he was always able to charm her into going for coffee. Slowly, bit by bit, she was beginning to trust him, he could feel it in the way she revealed things about herself, how she began to talk and laugh with him. With every sip of Java his attraction grew, his admiration, their friendship bonding…if he wasn’t careful he could get lost in her, real easy. “Zeik, she better not lose her job because of this,” Jo said. Zeik sat straight, his facial muscles tightening. “Jo, I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. It’s not uncommon for teachers to meet students for coffee before or after school to discuss a project, and it’s obvious she needs help hauling around her books. I’m her assistant. People will know I’m only helping her.” He clamped his mouth shut before he told her he was finally able to get Angel to commit to dinner with him tomorrow night. Pressing his lips together, he ran a hand over the back of his neck. They had been at this for over an hour. He knew what Jo was getting at; she was worried about the boss’ daughter. “How many times have you sent me into Berkeley?” he asked. “Half a dozen.” “Was I targeting only students?” “No, you watched a couple of teachers.” “Did any of them lose their jobs? We coordinate with the administration. They know what I’m doing.” Jo sighed and rubbed her belly. Zeik stood. Gently, he drew her to her feet and guided her toward the door to the hall, nodding at the other guys to stay behind. “Go home, you’re not sleeping well. Troy would kill us if we overworked you. You can trust me to do this right, you know that.” “I know, Zeik, I’m sorry.” She let him push her to the door, when normally any suggestion that she’d weakened would have her snarling like an angry tigress. “I’m so emotional these days. I hate it.” He smiled at her. She was a tough woman. This pregnancy was showing them an entirely different side of her personality. “You’re entitled to it. You’re carrying another person in there.” He stroked her huge protruding belly. “One that seems determined to tough it out until the very last minute. Go home. Cuddle with your husband, let him rub your feet.” She moaned and placed a hand on the small of her back.

“Good idea.” She grabbed her coat off the rack. “Be careful with Angel. If anything happens to her, Farin will kill us.” “Don’t I know it. Don’t worry.” “Okay, see ya later.” When she walked out the door, he breathed out a sigh of relief. He returned to the office and gave a pointed stare at each of his squad mates. “She’s killing us,” Jim Ellis, Jo’s second in command piped up. “God, no kidding.” Sandy threw a file folder into his desk drawer. “Guys, she’ll be here another week. Troy told me he’s not letting her work after that.” “Thank you, Troy. Remind me to invite him to our next poker night.” Lion grabbed his worn leather jacket from the back of the chair. “Got to get home to the little woman and pip squeak.” Zeik laughed at his description of his daughter. She was the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. It was amazing a big gruff man could produce such a sweet little thing. “Sandy, Jim, can you give me an hour? I want to track down a couple bank robbery suspects from Angel’s case. One was never found, the young one. One was let out of prison last month. Find him and we’ll find the missing man. The remaining are either dead or still in jail.” “Yeah,” they both said in unison. Zeik threw the folder onto the desk, pictures of the two suspects spilling out. “Let’s put our heads together and make some calls.” “Jim, see if you can pull Angel’s cellular record from the last month. Let’s figure out who’s been calling her. Here’s her number.” Zeik jotted down her cellular phone number on a slip of paper. He also added one more number below it and handed it to Jim. “Need a warrant for that, dude,” Jim said. He pointed to the second number. “Call her, she’ll give you what you need.” “Fruit from the poisonous tree, dude.” “I’m aware it’s not by the letter of the law, Jim. Do it. Okay?” “All right, as long as you know it could compromise your entire case.” “I know.” Zeik felt grim. Rules weren’t going to stop him from bringing down the bastards who hurt Angel. Jim nodded and reached for the phone. Zeik pulled his notes from the file and scooted close to Sandy. “Let’s get to work. Know anyone in Chicago?” “Yeah.” Sandy grabbed his Rolodex and began thumbing through it. “Had an extradition there last month, remember?” “Great.” Zeik grinned. The wheels were turning in his head. Soon he’d be working on bringing in the bad guys and keeping Angel safe. **** “Angel, how are you?” “Sharon, I’m good.” Angel cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder. “Getting along. How’s working in San Francisco after the hustle and bustle of the windy city?” “Good, busy. You can imagine.”

“Sure, I remember what it was like to work in the big city.” It was near seven p.m., she was home and was working at her desk. She knew Sharon would still be in the office. Sharon was a workaholic and Angel wanted to speak to her without people around. It was time to call in some favors. Zee Carlos was getting too close. Two weeks and she wasn’t fooled—he was up to something. “You need something don’t you, Angel?” “You know I do.” “I have to be careful. If someone caught me giving you all this information I’d get thirty days on the bricks.” “I know, I know.” Angel ran a hand through her hair; she didn’t want to get Sharon suspended. “It’s not a big deal. Dad’s squad, tell me who’s on it.” “Your father? Why, what’s happened?” “Don’t ask. One more thing, check this name in the system and see if anyone’s run him out lately. Samuel Cross.” Angel gave Sharon his date of birth. “Ughhh, all right. Let me pull up your dad’s squad. Here it is; Jo Clarin is the agent in charge of the fugitive squad. Her squad mates are Sandy Krane, Randy Reinhart, and Carl Zeik.” “Hold it. Carl Zeik.” Angel rubbed her forehead in concentration. Sometimes the headaches got to her. “What’s he look like?” “Let me check here… Ohhhh, he’s foxy.” “Wait, don’t tell me. Blond hair, light brown eyes, looks like a handsome college student.” “Yeah, how did you know?” “Christ.” Angel slapped her hand on the desk. “Zee Carlos,” she murmured. Her voice sharper, she said, “Check Samuel Cross, see if anyone ran his arrest record from your office.” “Just a sec.” Angel could hear Sharon tapping on the computer keys. “The Oakland ORI did run his arrest record a few days ago.” “What agent?” “Agent … well, this is funny it was Agent Zeik.” “Give me Agent Clarin’s cellular phone number, will you?” Sharon read off the number. “Thanks, Sharon. Got to go…” “Angel, what…” “I’ll call you later.” Angel hung up. If she could physically show her anger right now, she would be literally steaming. She knew it was him. She should have guessed. Her father had grown suspicious. It was the call the other day, during dinner. It had shaken her up and she’d let it show. Wana nuzzled her hand and whined, sensing her distress. Angel ran her hand over Wana’s coat. Her savior, Wana, her white Shepherd and wolf mix. She gave Angel unconditional love. So Carl Zeik was playing some sort of game here, huh, she thought. Well, it was time for her to get into the match. ****

Jo reclined on her living room sofa and looked at Troy through half lidded eyes as he rubbed the ball of her foot. “Ahhh, you’re a god.” He hit a particularly tender spot and she moaned. “Yeah, don’t you forget it!” She smiled at her gorgeous, Italian husband. He sat on the other end of the sofa, concentrating on the task at hand, her feet on his lap. “I would never forget it.” He ran his fingers over her arch. “Ahhhh.” She dropped her head back and let her eyes flutter closed. She never knew a foot massage could be so sexual. Her husband was the most beautiful hunk of man she had ever known. She wanted to lick every light brown inch of his body. The ringing of her work cell phone jarred her out of her sensual haze. “Ugh.” She leaned over and pulled the annoyance off the coffee table. “Clarin here. This better be good,” she snapped, assuming she was talking to one of her boys. “Special Agent Clarin, this is Angel Farin.” Jo nearly dropped the phone in shock. “I’d like to have a word with you,” Angel continued. Jo tugged her foot out of Troy’s hands and dropped her legs to the floor. Troy arched his eyebrows in question. “Sure, sure, what can I do for you, Angel?” She had never met Angel Farin. Every social engagement she had gone to with Jack was work exclusive and didn’t involve family. Besides, Angel had lived so far away. She hadn’t even known she was in the FBI until Jack told them the other day. “What you can do is tell your man, Carl Zeik, he doesn’t need to show for class tomorrow.” Jo grimaced. Shit, shit, shit. “Um… well … I…” She stopped talking. She knew she was in trouble. “I don’t think any explanation is necessary here, Agent Clarin. My next call is to my father.” Shit. Jo ran a hand through her hair in frustration. She never expected Angel to discover Zeik’s purpose so quickly. Crap, they shouldn’t have underestimated her. “I … he…” “Don’t bother.” Angel cut her off. “Goodbye.” Jo pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. “What’s up, babe?” She absently glanced at Troy. “We’re in deep shit.” She dialed Zeik.

Chapter Four Striding toward the elevator doors, Zeik pulled his ringing phone off his hip and checked the caller ID. Jo. He wondered what was going on. He’d sent her home two hours ago. Since then, they had made progress on finding one of Angel’s suspects. Seemed Francis Safron had made his way into Z’s territory, Oakland. Zeik didn’t need to wonder why. This guy was obviously tracking Angel and it didn’t take a genius to figure out Samuel Cross was probably with him. But why risk their freedom to take out a former FBI agent over a couple bank robberies? Didn’t make sense. Most of these guys did their time and moved on. They didn’t bother with revenge. They had too many other worries. “Z,” he answered. “Zeik, we’re in trouble.” “What are you talking about?” Zeik slid his briefcase under his arm, and hit the down button to the elevator. “Angel Farin knows who you are.” Zeik’s heart did a flip flop. The elevator dinged once and the doors slid open. He moved the phone to his other ear. “What the hell?” “Yeah, yeah, she must have connected you somehow to my squad. She called me directly. I’m sure she has friends here. Wouldn’t be hard to give a description of you with your undercover name and voila—she has you.” “Who’s her inside connection?” He clenched his jaw; frustration edged his vision. This was bad. “Who knows? She was an agent for a long time. She probably knows a half dozen agents here.” “Shit, we should have figured this would happen.” The elevator closed without him getting in. “I didn’t think it would come down so fast. She said for you not to go back to school.” “Bullshit!” “Zeik.” “Bullshit, Jo. Something is going on here and I’m in this. I’ll talk to her.” “She said her next call was to her father.” “I don’t care. I’m going to go talk to her.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She sounded pretty pissed.” “I am going to talk to her,” he said, enunciating each word. “Just don’t fuck this up.” “Fine.” He hung up and pushed the down button for the elevator. Briefly he wondered why it hadn’t come up yet, then as the doors slid open, he remembered it had. Stepping inside, he hit the lobby button. He couldn’t believe Angel had uncovered him. Was he that obvious? He needed to fix this. He made his way to his car. After throwing his briefcase on the seat next to him, he rummaged through it until he found her address.

**** Angel set her hand on the phone on her desk. She had planned to call her father an hour ago. She couldn’t. What was she going to say? Hi Dad, I found out you sent an extremely attractive Federal Agent to spy on me, make sure I’m okay. I find this unacceptable. Right. Her dad was only worried. She was falling apart. That call from Samuel Cross had really sent her into a spin. The threats didn’t necessarily frighten her. Angel drew open her desk drawer and pulled out her Glock 27. Her backup weapon; her baby. She was prepared to take on anyone who wanted to tango, like that punk Samuel Cross. She dropped the clip, verified the bullet count—nine, good. She jacked out the first round. Slowly, she eased the bullet into the clip, then shoved it into the gun and snapped it back, priming it for action. Slipping the gun back into the holster, she gave a satisfied sigh. Yeah, she was ready—bring it on. She wasn’t going to call her dad. Talking to him about what was happening would only bring more questions. Questions she couldn’t answer. Angel fingered her forehead. The headache was directly behind her eyelids. Anytime she tried to force memories on the case the headaches came like Thor’s hammer. She went into the bathroom and downed a couple aspirins. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at her from the mirror. She needed to make some progress, needed to find the empty links in this case. In the living room, she checked her storyboard. Months of work stared back at her. Her memory had holes. The doctors called it selective amnesia caused from the bullet to her head. She had been trying to piece together the case since she moved. Thanks to Sharon, she had some holes plugged, but there was still a long way to go. She worked that case for six months before she was shot. The bullet grazing her head had taken her memory. Now, only her dreams helped her. She eased onto the chair facing the board as she studied her work. Four suspects, she had it down to four. Samuel Cross, the shooter; Francis Safron, recently released from jail; Joe Highland and Frank Minor, locations unknown. This was the takeover bank robbery team she had been tracking. She tapped her head. Come on, remember. She might still be missing someone. These four were the only ones her damaged brain recognized. It had taken her months to retrieve what she had from deep inside her head. She rubbed the back of her neck. She was setting herself up as a target; her plan was solid. She clenched her teeth. How she would like to kill every one of these bastards. This was why she quit the bureau—not because she’d lost her nerve. A federal agent seeking her own revenge would have been frowned upon. She chuckled, frowned upon nothing, she would be sitting in jail right now if they only knew. These men had killed her, ended a promising FBI career, damaged her physically for the rest of her life, and for what … a couple thousand dollars from a bank robbery? They were going to pay and Special Agent Carl Zeik better keep out of her way. Maybe she would call her father in the morning, after all. Angel walked to the window and stared out. Dusk was falling in the city. She’d been able to rent a small house in Berkeley, on the hill, in a fairly safe neighborhood. It was quiet, a good time for silent reflection.

Her muscles dragged, her eyes burned from lack of sleep. She was exhausted, dead tired and disappointed her instincts had proven right about Carl. Somewhere, deep in her heart, she’d nourished a small flare of hope he had been interested in her for, well … for her, as a woman. She shook her head. The pang in her chest wouldn’t go away. She should have known better. She hadn’t had the best luck with men lately. Sure, she dated a few men when she lived in Chicago. But her work came first. It was always a barrier, getting in the way of any relationship. She lived her job and her social life had suffered. Now, look at her … she turned from the window and sank onto the couch. She was a disabled ex FBI agent teaching because she couldn’t do. Isn’t that what people always said? Those who can’t do, teach. Wana began pacing and whining, alerting her someone was in the area. Angel jumped up and grabbed her gun from the drawer. She eased her way to the window. A standard issue government vehicle was parked in her driveway. If this was Cross coming to get her, he certainly wouldn’t park in her driveway. She tucked the gun into the back of her pants. A tap-tap at the door assured her she was safe, it wasn’t as if Cross was going to knock before he jumped her. Besides, she had a feeling she knew who was on the other side. Opening the door, her earlier anger boiled over. “You’re not wanted here, Mr. Zeik.” God, he was fucking gorgeous. She used her arm to bar him entry into her house. “Can I come in?” “No, and don’t bother showing up for class tomorrow.” She could see anger blaze up in his eyes, beginning to match her own. “You can’t fire me, Angel, I’m a federal agent.” “Consider me firing you for the government.” “No way.” His answer made her clench her fists. “I don’t need you, Mr. Zeik.” He held up his hands. “It’s Carl.” “Fine, I don’t need you, Carl. You go back to your little FBI Agent job in the city and tell my father thanks but no thanks.” He leaned his arm on the door and pushed. She tightened her hold on the jamb. “You owe me a dinner,” he said as he tried to ease the door open. “I don’t owe you shit. I said I wanted you to leave.” He pressed harder on the door. “Let me in, Angel.” Angel had enough of his sweet talk. She moved back to shut the door in his face. He was quicker, jamming his foot into the bottom of the door he blocked it from closing. Using the momentum his foot gave him, he pushed the door open, knocked her arm away and forced his way past her. He didn’t get far. Wana pinned him with her growl. The hair on her back stood as she lunged at him with a fierce wolf-like snap. He froze. “I don’t remember inviting you in. I think Wana realizes the same missing fact.” Angel shut the door and crossed her arms in front of her. Her eyes wandered to her storyboard. Shit. She didn’t want him to see what she was doing. Carl’s gaze followed hers. He raised a single brow. “Been doing some late night plotting?” He walked toward Wana. He seemed fearless. Wana barked ferociously as if she wanted to eat him for dinner.

“She’s a good guard dog,” he said, approval in his voice as if he was commenting to himself. Wana’s barks elevated; she was showing Carl every single tooth in her mouth, and this was substantial. “Call her off.” Angel sighed and moved forward to pet Wana. “Wana, it’s okay.” She immediately stopped barking. Wana always followed instructions. Unlike the person she was facing off. “You have a place for that weapon other than the waistline of your pants?” Carl asked. Angel straightened and eased the gun from the back of her pants wondering how the hell he knew it was there. Trying to act casual, she stored it in the drawer. “Expecting trouble?” He wandered around her living room, pausing in front of her storyboard. He picked up some of the pages sprawled around the board and started reading them. “Carl, I think you’d better leave.” He grinned at her. “I think it could be a violation of federal law to be in possession of official classified FBI documents, considering you’re no longer with the FBI.” Shit. Angel marched over and snatched the documents from his hand, then she grabbed the board and flipped it over. The space on the back was blank. “I told you to leave.” He shook his head and stalked toward her, moving closer and closer, one forceful step at a time. She backed up until her ass hit the wall. He caged her in with his arms, one positioned on each side of her, leaving her pinned against the plaster. Angel didn’t like being pushed around. She heard Wana growl and knew all she had to do was give Wana the word and Carl would be dog food. Instead, she pressed her hand against his chest and shoved. He didn’t budge. God, he was huge, his chest solid muscle under her hand. She fought an insane urge to run her hands up his chest and bury her fingers into that golden mane of hair, so mussed, so cute. It fell over his right eye, like it had a mind of its own. “You owe me a dinner,” he reminded her. “You’re insane.” “And you’re beautiful when you’re angry.” “Get away.” She pushed and he pressed in closer. “You’re not getting rid of me, Angel. Consider me yours for as long as you need me. I’m free and awaiting your orders. Besides,” he glanced toward the blank side of the board facing him, “looks like you could use a partner.” Angel dropped her head back against the wall, closed her eyes and let out an audible breath. He was going to be a difficult man to get rid of. Especially when all she wanted to do was crawl up his body and take him for the ride of his life. “Don’t do this, Carl.” “Z,” he whispered as he trailed a finger down her cheek. She lifted her head off the wall and peered up to make eye contact with him. Looking into those brown, bedroom eyes she could feel herself weakening. If he hadn’t been holding her up with his arms, she might have melted into a puddle on the floor. “Z, this isn’t wise … us. Back off.”

“You’re really good at giving orders.” He ran his thumb along her bottom lip and leaned in closer. She smelled his dreamy masculine scent, his aftershave spicy, the same smell that two weeks ago had sent her into a wired sexual state. “You’re not so good at following them,” she said, her voice husky. “Nope.” His answer came out a puff against her mouth as he angled in. He leaned in so close she could feel the touch of his body against hers. The rough feel of his finger against her lips was almost her undoing. Desire shot through every pore of her body. She felt herself heating up, her heart beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. “Don’t even think about kissing me.” “Okay.” He trailed his fingers from her lips to her hair. He began to fiddle with her dark strands. “Your hair is like silk and your eyes are incredible.” He was talking about the straight dark hair she had inherited from her Indian mother and the light green eyes from her father. “Yeah well thank my mother for my hair.” “Thank you, mom.” Zeik buried his hands in her hair, rubbing, caressing. She closed her eyes and enjoyed having an attractive man touch her. The sensations made her feel desired. She could get used to this, want it all the time. Being touched by Zeik was addicting, in a dangerous way. “I can help you, my Angel.” He murmured so low, if she wasn’t so close to him, she might not have heard him. “I don’t need your help and I’m not yours.” His body tensed. “Let me … let…” His voice trailed off. He seemed to lose his thoughts the closer their lips came. “Z, no. Don’t.” She was pleading, unable to push him away. Her hands crawled up his chest to settle on his shoulders. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted it with every shuddering breath she took. Her senses were on fire, her body was talking to her, reminding her how long it’d been since she touched a man. “Just one little taste.” His thumb moved from her hair down to her chin. He positioned her head where he wanted. She was beyond protesting, beyond anything except absorbing the warmth of his body pressed close to hers. Then he did it, he touched his lips to hers and a light exploded behind her eyelids. As he explored, her breath hitched. Her fingers clenched on his shoulder. She tried to tamp down and deny her feelings. It wasn’t working. She was high, high on his kiss as if she were a recovering crack addict getting a much needed fix. Soft, his lips were so supple and wet. He opened her mouth wider and invaded with his tongue. His hands buried in her hair and held her hostage, not allowing her to move except the way he wanted. He took the kiss deeper than she ever imagined a kiss could be. Angel let herself go, sinking into him. Felt so good, so right. She tangled her tongue with his, the beginning of a sensual mating dance. He flattened his body against hers, his erection pressing against her stomach, his heart pounding against hers. She wanted much more than a simple kiss as she buried her hands into his hair. Like his lips, his hair was soft, and his chin was rough against her

cheek. He needed to shave. She tightened her grip on his head. She didn’t care; the variation of feelings, smooth yet hard made her senses purr. He tasted incredible. She sank down into his kiss until common sense intruded. With a cry, Angel released his head and leaned back. She was panting as if she had just run a marathon. All she could think was he tasted like more, like that first cookie that led to so many. She could easily see this kiss taking them somewhere they shouldn’t go. I don’t need him in my life. He’s a complication. He’ll mess up all my plans. She pushed him away. “Stop. We need to stop, right now.” “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He shook his head and stepped back. He ran a hand over his shadowed jaw. Her hands dropped. She puffed out a huge sigh of relief that he was backing off. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” He walked over and plopped down onto her couch as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just kissed the hell out of her. He looked so calm. Had their kiss affected him the same way it did her? Obviously not. Wana padded over to him and nuzzled his hand. Traitor. “Give it up, my Angel, or get used to me being around.” He set his feet on her coffee table and reached for the remote control for her TV. As if he was moving in for keeps. She wanted to club him over the head. “You bastard.” He turned on the TV and yawned. “Yeah, well, I’m your bastard now, Angel of mine. So get busy talking or find me a pillow and blanket.”

Chapter Five Zeik hid his amazement. What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her as if he wanted to eat her for dessert? His actions had shocked him on many occasions, but this took the Olympic prize for screw-ups. She was the fucking daughter of the top cheese and he’d just danced his tongue with hers as if he was licking the cream off his favorite peanut butter pie. And now, shit, he had a hard on so big he was afraid to stand up for fear he would embarrass himself. She tasted sweeter than he’d expected. Now, he was in big trouble with a capital T. His mind was swirling; replaying their kiss. He wondered how he could get out a single coherent word. A pillow hit him in the side of the head, followed by a blanket, stopping his thoughts. “There you go, have a nice night.” Shit, she called his bluff. “Angel.” He glanced at her. She stood in front of him, arms crossed, expression closed, face flushed, and obviously steaming mad, as if she was ready to come at him swinging. Man, she was beautiful. Christ. He rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw and pondered his next move. They were playing for keeps now and he was determined to come out the winner. Slowly he reached down, untied his boots and kicked them off. Her eyes widened in surprise. Wana plopped down on the throw rug next to the couch and gazed at him adoringly. Didn’t take long to win the favor of the dog, but it was going to take longer for her master. Deciding he wanted to shock her, he grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it over his head. He threw it on the floor, then stood and reached for his jeans. She jumped forward and laid her hands over his on his fly. “Whoa there, cowboy. What the hell are you doing?” Her eyes widened, and he knew she felt his erection. “Unless you want to finish what we started earlier,” he said, grinning at her dropped jaw, “I suggest you remove your hands.” She snatched back her hands as if she touched a boiling hot furnace. Leaving his pants on, he stretched out on the couch, then slid the blanket over him and positioned his hands behind his head. “Kind of hard to sleep in your pants, you know?” She huffed out a low noise. He smiled and winked at her. If this was a cartoon, the top of her head would be blowing off and steam would be rolling out of her ears. “Join me,” he invited, smiling. She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.” Sporting a cocky smile, he said, “However you want.” After one last scowl, she pivoted and left the room. Zeik immediately threw off the blanket and returned to the board. He rotated it back around. Incredible.

It was her case, one line and one box at a time. He traced the bank robberies. There were seven of them. She was missing five. Matter of a fact, she was missing a lot of facts. He wondered why? She’d worked the case six months before she was shot. She should have known the details from muscle memory, a place in her brain that recalled without thought. He understood what the doctors were saying, selective amnesia, sure whatever. He didn’t believe them. There was something more here and he could help. He could fill in the blanks for her. Grabbing the dry marker he tapped his recall and began to work on the drawing. A low moan finally disturbed him enough to make him stop. He checked his watch, almost three a.m. Wana padded up to him and whined. The dog sat and placed a single paw on Zeik’s leg. Squatting down, Zeik ran his hand along Wana’s back. “What’s the matter, girl?” A tortured cry gave him his answer. Zeik made eye contact with Wana. Seemed strange to exchange a knowing glance with a dog. He swore he just did. He stood and followed Wana to Angel’s room. She was thrashing as if trying to free her legs from the covers wound around them. Zeik moved toward her, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor. Trying not to wake her, he sat on the side of the bed and leaned over to untangle her legs from the mess she’d made of the covers. He thought his actions would help calm her; they didn’t. The minute his hand skimmed her shin, she jerked her leg, screamed and sat straight up. Her arm flew, her fist making contact with his shoulder. Zeik grunted in surprise and quickly captured her hand so she couldn’t do any further damage. She was panting, sweat beading her brow. He pushed back the dark hair framing her face. He didn’t say anything, letting her awaken on her own. With the soft light from the hall illuminating her face, he watched consciousness slowly emerging. “Hey.” She reached up to push the hair out of her eyes. Her hand overlapped his on the side of her cheek. “Nightmare?” “Yeah.” She dropped her hand. He regretted the loss of her touch, feeling angry that she wouldn’t accept the comfort he was offering. Strange, these feelings of possession; he had never experienced this with a woman before. With Angel, his emotions were jumbled. In a way, it scared him. There were things going on with her… He wasn’t sure he could talk her out of the destructive path she’d mapped out. Didn’t take maybe an hour of studying her board to figure out what was going on in her head. Without a word to him, she rolled to the other side of the bed, got up and walked out of the room. Zeik followed her. She went straight to the living room and the board. She picked up the marker and began writing. He waited, silently. He wanted to see where the nightmare was taking her. She worked frantically, adding a name here, a fact there, the color of a car, RED, under her description grid. For more than a half an hour she labored over the board until she seemed to run out of steam, her movements robotic, slowing. Then she dropped the pen and stepped back. She lifted her fingers to her temple and massaged. “You did something?” she accused him.

“Yeah, I worked on it. I have all the files from the cases. You had some holes, I helped fill them.” Zeik stepped forward. Pushing her hands out of the way, he took over the stroking of her temples. “You… Damn you, Zeik.” Oh so lightly, he eased her back against his bare chest. She stiffened. “Relax,” he whispered. “I worked on it … for you, because I have the case files and because you need help.” He felt her muscles tense, getting ready to launch off him. He dropped his hands from her temple and wrapped his arms around her chest, anchoring her body to his. She only wore a short t-shirt and lots of skin. She smelled incredible, like a field of flowers. His body tightened with raw hot desire. “Relax.” He wanted her to trust him, despite the circumstances of their meeting. He needed her to let him in. He wasn’t sure why. “I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help.” She began to struggle. He tightened his hold, and her squirming stopped. “Angel, you need my help.” He lowered his chin into the crook of her neck and sucked in a slow breath, taking in her scent. A noise emitted from her throat, somewhere between a growl and a cry. “Why won’t you let me help you?” he asked as he nuzzled the side of her throat. He couldn’t help it. She stirred him in ways he’d never felt, made him want to lock her in his arms and throw away the key. “I don’t want you involved in this, Z,” she whispered as she dropped her neck a little to the left to give him room. He smiled against her skin. Her voice was saying no. Her body was telling him a different story. He could feel the pebbling of her nipples against his arm and the pounding of her heart. The heat of her body penetrated his chest. She was as aroused as he was. “You’re setting yourself up as a target.” He ran his tongue down the slant of neck to her shoulder, where he lightly kissed. She tasted so good, that tangy taste of salt and sugar at the same time, addicting. She groaned. “So?” she asked, panting. “Putting yourself in danger to solve this case is totally unacceptable to me.” He ever so slowly kissed the way back to where he started, the sensitive spot on her neck where her shoulder sloped and met. He leaned closer, tightened her against him and sucked. She arched, sighed and sank into him. He felt nothing but deep satisfaction at her small surrender. “You have no idea what you’re getting into here, Z.” Her voice sounded husky. “This case will cost you your career. Are you ready to sacrifice everything you’ve ever dreamed about…for me?” He didn’t answer. With the feel of her body in his arms, he was losing the conversation. Making love to her, that’s all he could think about right now; he wanted to follow what she was saying, he just couldn’t. He craved her the sexual way a man did a woman, needed to be buried deep inside; connected in an elemental way, straining toward the ultimate pleasure.

Then he felt her trembling, a small tremor he couldn’t mistake. He put a lid on his need. Reaching down, he easily lifted her into his arms. She started to make the protesting noise he was coming to know. “Stop.” He said it forcefully enough for her to listen and obey, her mouth clamping shut. “You’re tired, it’s late. I’m taking you back to bed. We’ll talk about this later.” He could tell she wasn’t used to being ordered around, but for some reason she did as he asked. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale, her expression laced with pain. Sweat glistened on her face and neck. “How often does this happen?” he asked. “Every night.” Zeik swore as he laid her on the bed. “Headaches always follow?” “Headaches before and after, headaches all the time.” He got up, went into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth from the sink and soaked it in cold water. Returning, he sat on the bed next to her, and draped the cloth over her eyes and forehead. Her hands swung up to cover the cloth. “Relax.” The way she groaned told him he had done the right thing. “Feels good.” Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the washcloth. He placed his hands on hers and removed them. “Relax.” “Stop saying that.” “Start doing it.” She gave him a “humph” noise. He smiled and watched her tension ease, muscle by muscle. He liked her, really deep down admired her. From the way she taught the class to the way she tried so hard to protect him. She deserved more than this. He wished he could kill every one of those bank robbers. He’d love to see them suffer like she did. His shook his head. He couldn’t believe what she was doing, setting herself up as a target. What was she going to do when Cross came after her? She wasn’t in any sort of shape to defend herself. He needed to find out what was going on. Quickly. And until he was satisfied with her answers, he was sticking to her as close as … a lover. Slowly, so he wouldn’t disturb her, he stretched out next to her. Before she could object, he said, “I’m going to lay here for a bit. I’m really tired.” He hoped to tug on her sympathy string. “All right.” He silently celebrated his victory. He moved his arms around her, one hooked over her waist, the other lining the top of her pillow. She stiffened. “Re…” “I know,” she said. “Relax. Fine.” “Need to get a couple hours here. Try to get some sleep,” he said as he adjusted his body one inch at a time into hers. “Okay.” Her response was slow coming, her voice slurring. She was falling asleep. Good, it’s working. He stayed awake until her soft breath pattern told him she was asleep. Only then, did he let himself follow her. His last thought was how good she felt curled up against him.

Chapter Six The obnoxious blaring of the alarm jerked Angel from her sleep. She lunged for the clock, slammed the alarm off, and eased back down onto the bed, closing her eyes as she went. She hadn’t slept this well in a long time. Even her usual morning headache wasn’t there. The familiar pounding at her temples with a drum-drum of pain—wasn’t there. “Shit.” The sound of a male voice and the draping of a masculine arm around her made her yelp in surprise. She attempted to pull from under the huge limb, but Zeik wouldn’t let her; he held her firm in his arms. “What time is it?” His grumbling question calmed her. For a moment, she had forgotten he was there; invading her house and life. She glanced at the clock. “Five a.m.” “And the reason we’re getting up at this god awful hour is…” “We’re not doing anything.” She cut him off. “I’m getting up and going to physical therapy and you’re getting out of my house.” She tried to pluck his arm from around her waist. He snuggled closer and spooned her body into his. “Couple more hours, ‘kay?,” he murmured in a low voice. Then he tucked his mouth against her neck and nuzzled, rubbing his unshaven jaw against her cheek. She sucked in a slow breath. She could feel her body heating up in response to him. God he stirred her. She could smell him, his scent wafting over and around her. She was beginning to crave that aroma, so unique to him, something she had never experienced before. She didn’t usually go for a guy’s scent, but Zeik, good god, he should be outlawed. “Zeik, I have to get up.” “Uh huh.” He obviously wasn’t listening. Raising her head, she wiggled, trying to shimmy from him, then stopped. All of a sudden, she could feel his growing erection against the small of her back. She huffed, groaned and dropped her head back on the pillow in disgust. Great. “Should of stopped while you were ahead of the game. Keep moving around and I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Now he was awake, that much was clear. His voice wasn’t fuzzy with sleep. “Christ, is sex all you guys ever think about?” Really she was more disgusted with herself than him, because she was thinking about the same thing. She was pondering what all that hard muscle would look like underneath his clothes, she wanted to know how soft or rough his skin was under her fingertips. She could feel the hardness of his naked chest and the sculpted veined muscles of his biceps as they flexed against her, keeping her body touching his. She could almost taste his lips from last night, so soft, so sweet. A girl had needs, and the guy in her bed was making it very hard to ignore those needs. “Uh huh.” With his arm, he snuggled her tighter against him. She felt every inch of him. She tried to ignore him, block the sensations he was creating in her, disregard the burn infusing her body. He started playing with her hair. Uh Oh, that was how it started

last night, their first kiss, him playing with her hair. He pushed the mass aside and planted a kiss on the side of her neck. Ohhhh, so good. “Zeeeik,” she moaned. “Stop protesting for a few minutes, my Angel, and just feel,” he whispered against her neck, his lips traveling, touching that sensitive spot under her ear, she jerked in arousal. How could one little spot cause so much electricity? “Zeik.” She was near giving in to him. What the hell, I need sex, he is here, he is hot, why am I fighting with him, she thought and groaned when his hand ran down her hip and pushed up her t-shirt to touch her skin. His hand was rough with calluses as he glided over her, up and down, stroking, worshiping, oh man she hadn’t felt this hot in so long. A little harmless sex…really what would it hurt? “This isn’t a good idea.” Crap her common sense was taking over her brain, when all she really wanted to do was take advantage of the situation. “Yeah, don’t I know it,” he said, yet his hand kept traveling, climbing between her legs and into her small scrap of underwear, touching her where all the heat centered, making her ache for more. She arched against his touch, he thrust forward against her back, they moved together. He tickled her with his fingers, touching, capturing, skimming his fingers until he buried them into her; she began to pant. Her body had a mind of its own, following him, moving with him. “Zeik, oh god, so long … don’t stop,” she gasped as his fingers took her up, playing with her clit, pushing into her, she was close to bursting. Her breath suspended, her head dropped back, eyes fell closed as she enjoyed. He leaned forward, latched onto her neck and sucked, hard while his fingers thrust into her, one, then two, in and out. She cried out, arched and exploded, stars blinked on and off behind her eyes as she rode out the orgasm. His hand disappeared and his body left her warmth. She moaned in disappointment. Her body was pinned to the bed with sexual satisfaction. She heard a rustle, the undoing of clothing. She peeked an eye open and he was crawling up the bed toward her, naked, erect, and just as beautifully hard as she thought he would be. Her arousal climbed, her heart shuddered, kicked up and began to pound. He lifted her, pulled her shirt off, and threw it. Then he gave her this look, like he wanted to eat her for dessert. He fingered her little scrap of panties. “Get rid of these.” “Um, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” “Okay, hold it.” He seemed stressed; he draped over her, reached for his pants, and grabbed something out of the pocket. The momentarily thrill of his full naked body blanketing hers was destroyed when he reached up and flicked open a switch blade with a distinctive zing. “Holy shit,” she cried when he cut both sides of her underwear, tapped the blade down, then threw it onto the floor. “Was that nec…” she didn’t get the entire word out because he ripped her panties off and was on her before she could take another breath. He started with her mouth, devouring her, licking and sucking her bottom lip. As soon as she opened her mouth, he plunged in with his tongue. She sighed and gave in, wrapping her arms around him she dug her hands into his hair. God, so soft, like silk, his body on hers, her legs fell open giving him more access. She was lost.

“Christ,” he swore, pulled up, started running kisses down her jaw, “Need to slow down.” It was as if he was talking to himself. “Oh, fast is fine,” She ground out when he moved to her shoulder, started kissing and licking. Traveling, he encountered her scar. “God.” He pulled back and stared. Slowly, he fingered the rough patches of pieced together skin. Angel froze. “Fuck, Angel, I’ll kill them,” he growled then he started to kiss the scarred mess. Angel couldn’t help it, tears formed, she tried to keep her emotions in check; he was so, so … tender, loving, she was overcome. His lips kept traveling, kissing, tasting. He lined her areolas with his tongue and sucked on her nipples. She bowed into him in pleasure, her hands buried in his hair. “Zeik, don’t, don’t…” He stopped and looked at her. She fingered the hair falling into his eye, pushed it away, and caressed the side of his face. “Don’t take on my battle, please don’t,” she pled. She hated to resort to begging, but she would for his sake. He had no idea what he was getting into. She felt the tear fall down the side of her face. His expression almost broke her heart. She shook her head in denial. He moved up her body and settled between her legs. He leaned over and tongued the tear off her cheek then kissed her, open mouthed, tongues meshed, he was clearly telling her he wasn’t going to let her go. He pressed into her, teasing as he kissed, using his tongue to mimic what he clearly wanted to do with his erection. “Need condom,” he panted, worked her mouth, murmuring the words in between kisses, between his groans. She ran her hands down his back, cupped his ass, and kneaded. He was hard, god so hard, and smooth in some places. She wanted him. “On the pill,” she responded, barely got it out between his kisses. He was getting wild, kissing, licking, sucking—he was driving her crazy. “I’m good, I’m good, never had unprotected, never…” she almost laughed at what he was trying to tell her, each word was forced from him. He wasn’t making much sense, but she knew what he was saying. “Okay, shit, next time, slower, promise.” He pulled her arms from around him and placed them above her head. Linking his hands with hers he made eye contact with her. “Hold on, my Angel.” Then without further ado, he thrust, long and hard. Angel cried out and clutched at his hands. It had been so long, she was tight, he was big, she was wet and he was hard; her body screamed at her to dance with him. “Zeik,” she cried out. He stopped, kissed, soothed. “God, so tight. Okay?” “Oh yes, very okay.” She smiled, he returned it, then began to move. There was a primitive urgency in his lovemaking. He slipped in and out his eyes never leaving her gaze. His hands clutched at hers so intimately, she had never felt so connected to a man before. “Yesss,” he moaned, thrusting faster, harder, her hips automatically raised to meet his. She was reaching … already she could feel another climax forming. “You were made for me, Angel,” he whispered as he moved, nibbling at the corner of her mouth, keeping their lips and bodies connected. She watched him, could see his

pleasure as he arched and moaned. Oh, he is beautiful. Sweat glistened on his body, his eyes drifted closed as he plunged in, muscles strained and bulged. Angel shut her eyes and clutched at his hands, she was going, going…she arched and cried out. “Yes, Angel, come for me.” His encouragement sent her over the edge. She flew, her vagina tightening around him, spasm after spasm shook her, all the breath left her body and pleasure took over, from head to toe; she was in heaven. He followed her, groaning, he gave one final thrust forward, his body jerking she could feel his warmth spilling into her. Panting he released her fingers and lowered his body to hers. He rolled over and draped her body over his, running his hands down her back, cupping her ass. “That was a bad idea,” she said as she pushed his damp hair from off his brow. “You’re so gorgeous,” she sighed out as she kissed him. He opened his mouth and mated with her, tongues tangling. She wanted to keep him in bed the rest of the day, despite her protest to the contrary. He made her feel incredible, desired, sated, and thoroughly happy. “I think that,” he massaged her ass, softly thrusting into her body with his cock. She could feel him harden inside her, “was a fantastic idea,” he concluded. “And I think you’ll have to hold off on physical therapy today and maybe…” he sucked on her neck and rolled her over. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, “…and maybe call in sick to school,” he finished. “Oh yeah, maybe,” she cried out when he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Chapter Seven Zeik awoke slowly, smoothly, so sleepy… He stretched and yawned, completely sated and thoroughly loved. He smiled. Life is good. Until he realized he was alone. That fact had him sitting up, the blankets pooling around his hips. His eyes touched each corner of the room, nothing … the clock … shit it was near noon. All he could remember about the morning was hot sex with an incredible woman, over and over. He rubbed a hand around the back of his neck and kneaded the tension he felt forming. He wouldn’t even bother searching for her; he knew she was gone. Tossing the blankets aside, he strode naked into the bathroom. A note taped to the mirror caught his attention. ‘Z, towels under the sink. DON’T COME BACK TONIGHT AND DON’T SHOW UP FOR CLASS. YOU’RE FIRED.’ In anger, he slammed his hand against the sink. She wasn’t getting rid of him that easy. He leaned over and started the shower. He was showing up for class, he was going to help her, whether she liked it or not! **** Zeik hauled his book bag out of his car and approached the college. It was close to 3:30 p.m., a half hour from class time. He had spent what was left of the afternoon back at his apartment, packing up the case files and more clothes, necessities. They were stored in his trunk. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight except back to her house. He had swung by the office and picked up the cellular information from Jim on Angel’s phone. Very interesting, most the incoming calls were from one of those throw away phones, the same type most criminals used. He didn’t like the feel of it. He was still reeling from the morning. He couldn’t believe she had left like that, after all they had done. It was more than sex. In the wee hours of the morning they had shared something he had never had with another woman; way more than their bodies. They had touched, stroked, panted and climaxed their way to no less than four explosions and if he hadn’t desperately needed sleep, he would have gone at her again. What they did was make love, intimately; he had mapped every inch of her body with his tongue, touched every scar, loved each soft spot and kissed every dimple. Much more than a one-night stand, she had touched him in ways he was having a hard time comprehending, then she FIRED him. Screw that! He stomped across the immaculate high gloss floor of the school hall, passing the glass enclosures holding various memorabilia. Stopping at her classroom door, he leaned his shoulder against the jam and waited. She was sitting at her desk, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders. She reached up and tucked the loose strands behind her ear. A shiver went through Zeik. He remember how the fine silk of that black mass felt draped over his stomach as she sucked him off, remembered burying his hands into it as he surged into her, over and over, her

mews of pleasure taking him higher and higher. God, she was so incredibly beautiful. As soon as he woke and felt her snuggled against his body, he was lost and she was his. He dropped his book bag and crossed his arms. Her head snapped up, the ice green of her eyes making contact with his. Her forehead furrowed in obvious annoyance yet her face turned a subtle shade of red. She’s embarrassed. “You-are-not-firing-me.” No preamble, no soft words of love after the most incredible night of lovemaking in his life. He articulated each word for her. She raised a single brow, seemed like she was going to protest, then dropped her head and stared at the paper in front of her. She sucked in a long audible breath and slowly released it. He could hear the hiss from where he was standing. “Zeik.” She raised her hand and pointed a single finger at him. “You’re a complication I don’t need right now.” “A complication.” He tried not to spit out the word, but it still came out like a curse. He pushed off the door jam and stalked toward her. “A complication.” He planted both arms on the desk in front of her and leaned in so he was face to face, talking directly to her. “Last night I was way more than a complication. Last night I seemed … wanted.” She looked down, looked up, and looked down, anywhere but at him. Her face was flushed, he could see it extend to the V in her shirt. He wanted to see how far that flush went. Wanted to track it all the way down her body. “Last night was a mistake. We just had sex.” She shrugged. “So what.” “No way.” She wasn’t going to blow him off like this. “Zeik.” She glanced toward the door where one of the students entered the classroom. Zeik followed her gaze. He lowered his voice. “This discussion is not over.” She tapped her pen on her paper. She didn’t say a word. Zeik picked up his backpack and found his way to his seat. He settled in and met her annoyed stare with an unwavering determination until she broke off and dropped her eyes. Grabbing his book from his pack, he began reading. **** As the last student left the room, Zeik shifted in his seat and stared at his Angel. That’s how he thought of her now, as his. He propped his chin on his hand and waited her out. She started packing up her books, ignoring him as if he wasn’t there. “This isn’t over, Angel.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, then she continued to shove papers into her briefcase. Pissed, Zeik stood and made his way over to her. He wanted to wake her up to what was happening between them, needed her to admit last night was more than ‘just sex’. He came up behind her and slowly pushed his body against hers, pinning her against the table. He wrapped one arm around her stomach and leaned in to nuzzle her neck. She went stiff. “Last night was about more than sex, don’t you think?” She groaned. Her head fell back against his chest.

“Zeik, don’t do this,” she said, the papers slipping from her fingers to float to the table. “Just wondering.” He ran his lips along her the side of her neck breathing gently on the skin; she began to tremble in his arms. “I remember how you taste, my Angel, every juicy inch of you. From your lips to your pussy and beyond,” he whispered. He tongued the slope of her neck, then opened his mouth and sucked. He pressed his erection into her to prove his words. She moaned, her head dropping to the right, her body melting against his. He loved her taste; better than his favorite food. He sucked in her fresh smell and hardened in arousal. He slid his hands under her shirt to massage her stomach. Her scent, her touch, her taste; all of these combined sent his senses whirling. He was ready to take her back to bed. “Well?” he asked as he continued to stroke her. She was making him so hot, sweat was pooling in the small of his back, beading on his brow. “You know it was more,” she said on the tail of a long sigh. “That’s right.” He raised his head, dropped his hands, and stepped away. “Don’t forget it. Come on, I’ll take you home.” “But my car…” “Leave it, you’re with me now.” “Zeik, I need my car.” “You don’t.” He picked up her briefcase and wrapped his hand around her waist. Pushing gently, he guided her out of room. “I’ll take you where you need to go.” She ‘humph’ed out a breath. “Don’t you have a job?” she grumbled as she allowed herself to be led. “I do, my Angel, I do. Right now, it’s protecting you. Let’s go have that dinner. How’s that?” Something safe. He hoped she would accept. “Fine, okay, whatever.” He laughed and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Whatever, that word women say when they don’t want to argue. I have sisters. I know the code.” She shook her head. “Is that a smile I see?” She laughed. It sounded good. He liked her to be happy, enjoyed her pleasure. He chuckled with her. “You’re something.” “Yeah, I am. How about Italian? I know a great place, tucked away.” “All right.” She gave in. He sighed in relief.

Chapter Eight Zeik wasn’t kidding when he told her he knew a place. The restaurant was wonderful. When they entered, the smell of olive oil and baked garlic welcomed them. It was a small place hidden in an out-of-the-way strip mall. Normally, she wouldn’t even notice it. The owner, who identified himself as Giuseppe, greeted Zeik by name. Laying his hand along Zeik’s shoulders, he guided them to the back of the restaurant and tucked them into a private booth. The influence of Italian was subtle. From the soft, flowing music and the gentle flicker of the candle on their table to the clanking of pans, followed by loud Italian voices coming from the kitchen. It was wonderful. With a dramatic flourish, Giuseppe laid a basket of breadsticks on the table then slid a bottle of wine under Zeik’s nose for his approval. Zeik looked at her. She nodded. There wasn’t any reason she couldn’t have a glass. Giuseppe opened the wine, poured the beautiful deep red liquid into a glass and handed it to Zeik. She watched him; he swirled, smelled, and eventually dipped his tongue out to taste. Then laid his lips on the glass, tilted and sipped. The site of him tonguing the wine set her heart pounding. Last night, she remembered him tasting her much the same way, lots of tongue, mouth and sipping. She shifted in her chair, trying to ignore the flush she knew was covering her body from her arousal. “Angel?” God he was talking to her and she was so busy ogling him, she didn’t even hear. “I said is spaghetti with meat sauce okay with you?” “Oh, yeah, sure. I love spaghetti.” He held up two fingers to Giuseppe, who nodded and rushed off. Lifting the wine bottle, Zeik filled her glass, then splashed a half glass for himself. “Aren’t you on duty?” she asked as she drank the wine. It was perfect, just the way she would expect an expensive red Italian wine to taste. “Yeah, are you going to report me to OPR, the internal Federal affairs cops?” She chuckled and took another mouthful of wine. “Considering you already slept with the boss’ … boss’ daughter, I think you have way bigger problems than drinking a half glass of wine.” He choked in the middle of a swallow. She lightly pounded him on the back as he coughed into his hand. “Shit, you don’t pull your punches do you?” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “And the reason to pull my punches would be…?” “No reason, Angel. Okay by me.” He smiled and ran a single finger down her cheek to her chin. She couldn’t help it … she shivered at his touch. His finger was rough on her skin. She was so close to him, in the cozy little booth, she could smell him. His scent was like an aphrodisiac to her. She could feel her temperature climbing, heating from the inside out. She was starting to want again, feeling a need to have him. “Yeah, I sure did sleep with the boss’ daughter, didn’t I? Over and over and…” Then he smiled, a slight rising in the corners of his mouth that turned into a grin, showing her his white teeth. He looked like a pleased wolf after a satisfying meal of deer. He had a

slightly crooked tooth, it was so cute, flawed … reminding her the perfect man wasn’t so perfect. He leaned forward, angling in, his finger tilted her chin, every so slightly. As if he was positioning a model for the perfect portrait. He ducked his head, aligned their lips. She licked hers. He actually hummed, it sounded like a growl, and inched in. Suddenly, Giuseppe arrived with two heaping plates of spaghetti. He set them down in their respective places. The aroma wafted up, she sucked it in … oh yeah. It had been a long, long time since she’d had a great dish of spaghetti. Zeik pulled back, thanked Giuseppe, picked up his fork and began eating as if they hadn’t almost made out in the restaurant. She picked up her fork and followed suit. The minute the taste of the spaghetti hit her tongue, she moaned in pleasure. It was incredible. In a very unladylike fashion, she started shoving in more. It was the best sauce she had ever tasted, the combination of garlic, basil, and tomatoes exploded in her mouth. She pulled in another bite. She didn’t even care if it appeared like she was starving. She sucked the noodle up one inch at a time until it made a satisfying slurping noise. “Oh my god,” she groaned as she enjoyed. Zeik stopped eating and stared at her. She tried to recover but with half a noodle hanging out of her mouth, she didn’t have anywhere to go. She slowly sucked it in, then despite his stare, she went for another bite and rolled her eyes in pleasure. “You enjoying yourself, my Angel?” he asked as he set down his fork. “I have never,” she took in another bite, talking while eating, “had spaghetti this fantastic in my life.” “Pretty good, isn’t it?” He moved forward, sliding so close he was crowding her. “Hey,” she complained. He was squeezing in so tight she couldn’t move her elbows to get another bite. “No, let me.” He plucked the fork from her hand and transferred it to her plate, where he dug it into the pasta and twirled. Spinning the fork in his hand, he picked up the bite and placed it in his mouth and swallowed. “Heyyyy.” She didn’t even get the word out before he was on her. He opened her mouth with his and took, his tongue dancing. He tasted like expensive wine and the finest red sauce. She gave him what he wanted, her tongue tangling with his, her hand moved up and buried in his hair. The kiss went on and on, the soft feel of his lips touching hers, his smell … stirring her, sinking into her. She wanted him, in the worst way. Dinner became a secondary craving—he was what she wanted to eat, right now. He stroked her face with his hand. His skin caressing hers felt so good, she heated, simmered to a near boil. He let her up, but immediately, she wanted to go back down to his mouth. “Ahhhh,” she moaned as he stroked his thumbs down her neck. “You’re so sexy,” he said the words against the corner of her mouth as he began to nibble, rubbing his face against hers. Her breath hitched. It was the way he said it, the deep tone of his voice, the rough shadow of his cheek rubbing against hers. She was in heaven, snuggled into him close like this; she could stay there forever. He is dangerous. “Z, please,” she gasped the words out on a plea when his lips traveled and sucked on the side of her neck, her favorite sensitive area. “Please what, Angel? Please stop, please go, please take me home? What do you need Angel?” His arms came around, surrounding her, plastering her body against his. He

was hard. She rubbed her hands up his arms, feeling the strength he held there, the muscles firm and sculpted. God, she wanted him. “Yes,” she whispered as she gently kissed his jaw, and worked her way to his lips. She stroked his lips with hers, lightly at first, then he laid his hands into the small of her back and arched her into him. He took over her gentle kiss with a force that nearly left her breathless. He stopped as abruptly as he started, pulling back he made eye contact with her. She was hot for him, she could feel the flush all over her face. He looked ready to go back in. Finally, he turned away and yelled for Giuseppe. “We’ll take this to go.” He pointed to their dishes. Whisking away their plates, Giuseppe gave them a knowing smile, murmuring something in Italian to Zeik. He answered back, in Italian. “You speak Italian?” He slipped out of the booth, holding his hand out to her. She scooted out behind him, joining their palms as he helped her. His touch sent a quick thrill through her, until the cramp in her leg hit her. She winced and sucked in a breath to keep from crying out. Zeik moved in quickly, his hands going to her quad. He squatted down and massaged it, digging into the muscles, pulling her knee into him. The move took her off balance. “Lean against me.” She draped her hand over his back and held on. The cramps usually came in the evening, after a long day. She had skipped physical therapy this morning, thanks to the urgings of the man kneeling in front of her. “Ahh babe, I’m sorry.” He looked up at her as he kneaded knot in her muscle. “No, it’s not your fault. It happens mainly in the evenings.” She sighed in relief as he helped her work through the pain. “Thanks, that’s good.” His hands stopped, slowly sliding off her leg. Giuseppe rushed over and handed him a plastic bag, wrapping the handles around Zeik’s fingers. “You good, Bella?” he asked as he rang up their bill. “I’m fine, Giuseppe. Thank you.” He began talking quickly in Italian to Zeik. He nodded, smiled, and nodded again. “No worries, Giuseppe, I’ll take care of her.” He paid, then slipped his arm around her waist supporting her. “Come on Angel, I’ll take you home.” She nodded, rested against him as he guided them out the door. “We need to go get my car,” she said as he helped her into his car. “No we don’t.” “Z, not this argument again.” He bent into the car and clicked on her seat belt. She tried to not bristle in anger. She didn’t need him taking care of her, didn’t want it. “You can’t hold me hostage in my own house,” she protested “Yes, I can.” She shook her head and stared at him. His gaze, unwavering, met hers. The expression on his face was hard. He was not negotiating. Usually, she didn’t like to be managed, or rely on anyone—but with him … she could see herself giving in. She melted at the thought. Gently she reached forward and pushed that unruly lock of blond hair away from his eye. He was so attractive, almost beautiful in a rough-masculine way. Why he had chosen to take her on was beyond her.

“You make me want,” she whispered, her finger drawing a line down his cheek to touch his lips. “Take what you want, Angel.” He angled forward and lightly touched his lips to hers, “Take everything you need.” He said the words against her lips, so erotic; she would never get enough of him. His lips were soft, so supple against hers. He brought his hand up and slid it into her hair, burrowing in. His hand was so large; he could cup the entire side of her head with his hand. With his strength he could easily hurt her yet he was so gentle. “I can’t.” Despite the fact she wanted to take everything he offered, she denied him. “You can … you have,” He reminded as he kissed her, a slow, deep, opened mouth kiss, their tongues mating. She clenched her hand on his arm to keep herself from clinging to him, wrapping herself so tight around him seeming she would never let go. He pulled back. “Zeik, how can I make you understand how dangerous I am to be with?” With her question, he slid out of the car, shut the door and came around the other side to get in. “You can’t, so don’t try.” He started the car. His expression was closed off. He was telling her the conversation was over without actually saying it. As simple as that, ‘don’t try’. She wasn’t accepting it. “You…” “Angel.” He cut her off. “I’m taking you home. I’m going to get you into a warm bath, towel you dry and put you to bed. Stop arguing with me.” She kept quiet. Tilting her head, she mentally studied the answers in her head and selected which one to use. “A warm bath does sound nice, even better with two.” She laughed. Of all the answers she could choose, she never expected that particular one to pop out. He was going to think she was weak. She didn’t even care anymore. She was a little sore, a lot tired, and extremely hungry for the man sitting next to her. He nodded as he pulled out into traffic. He didn’t gloat, simply a quiet acceptance of her offer. She liked that part of his personality. Always giving, every second of the day. The same trait that drove him to the job he was now in. He was special, her Zeik, and setting himself up to be hurt. She could spot the results of their collision course from a mile away. He glanced over and gave her a full-blown smile. Most of the time he was so serious. The smile softened his features, warmed her all over. “Thanks,” was all he said.

Chapter Nine Zeik leaned back against the slope of the tub and slid Angel’s back against his chest. Steam wafted from the nearly scalding hot water, wetting his face. He could feel the wet strands of his hair plastered against his head. Despite her protests, it didn’t take him long to get both of them naked, and into the huge jetted tub in her bathroom. “God this is great,” he sighed out as he punched one of the buttons on the side of the tub, turning on the gentle jets. “I had it installed before I moved in, at the recommendation of my physical therapist.” “Oh man.” He hit another button and groaned when the heated water swirled against his lower back. “What’s this?” Connected to the faucet some sort of tubing floated next to him. It looked like a showerhead. He picked up the device. “It’s for targeting one area. Like a portable mini water jet. It has a little setting adjustment on the side, gentle to hard.” “Oh, this has possibilities.” He grinned when she chuckled. He liked her this way, relaxed, happy and sitting between his legs in a hot pool of water. Nice, really nice. She reached over and guided his hand. “Here.” She placed the jet on her injured leg and flicked the switch to high. The jet vibrated, pulsating water in a gentle circle on her sore muscle. He held it there, waving it back and forth over the area. He hated that she hurt like this. His anger boiled deep inside. As he moved the jet back and forth on her leg, she sighed and stretched back against him, making that little mewing noise of satisfaction he was coming to love. Her hair was pulled on the top of her head; wisps of black drifted down, floated in the water and teased his shoulders. Under the water, he laid his hand on her breast. Her nipple immediately pebbled against the tip of his finger. He ran his index finger around her areola, then flicked the pert nipple with his thumb. Her smell drifted up with the steam, straight into his brain, directly to his cock. He dropped his head and nuzzled her neck. His cock was taking over his brain, standing at attention and urging him to have what he’d wanted all night. She made him need, in a bad way, and everything about her set him on fire. He ached with the emotions. He pressed himself against her. She arched and moaned. God, he needed to be inside her. He worked her nipple hard, gently pinching the tip. Her hands fell to his arms. She tightened her grip, clutching at him. He liked her this way, open and vulnerable, needy. He wanted to keep her in this state of arousal for the rest of her life. A sobering thought for a man who, at one time, had a love of many women, but this one small woman was becoming the focus of his existence. He switched the setting on the jet to low and ran it toward her heat. She gasped when he touched her there, the gentle throb of water pulsating against her clit. She pushed back against his cock, riding his hardness, her body begging. “Good?” he asked as he played with her breasts and kissed her shoulder.

“Ohhhh, God, Z.” Her body tensed and her grip tightened on his arm. She climaxed with a high-pitched cry. Her pleasure pushed all his craving buttons and suddenly, he had to have her. “Ride me, Angel.” He begged against her neck as he repositioned himself and slid into her vagina from behind. He was panting, his brain shutting down. His entire world became Angel; her heat against his cock, such a perfect fit, so snug, so his. Dropping the massager, he grabbed her hips and guided her, sliding down as he thrust up, then taking her back up. Her body bowed. She hummed. He groaned, and drove in faster, harder. She reached over and anchored herself on the side of the tub and helped him move with her, her pelvis dipping onto him. She rode his cock with perfect unity, up and down, over and over. He was close, so close. Her pleasure was driving him up, teasing him with the eruption to come. “Come with me, babe.” He wanted her there, with him, when he flew. He slid one hand in between her legs and tangled his fingers in her pubs, teasing her clit. As she rocked and moaned against him, the tingle started at the base of his spine, telling him how near he was. He couldn’t hold on, he was…”Babe gonna come,” he breathed out after one final forward thrust. He arched his back and pushed forward, the pleasure sucking all the breath out of his body, then blowing out in one big release—in unison to his come, “Yeeees.” “Ahhh,” she cried out her second orgasm. If he had his way, there would be several more before the evening was over. He sucked in air, willing his hammering heart to calm. Gently, he wrapped his arms around Angel. Her heart was pounding as fast as his. He snuggled his face into her neck. “I like that mini massager.” He could feel her laughter rumbling against his chest. He reached up and laid his hands over each of her breasts. “You’re going to have to let me rest some time, Z,” she groaned out when he massaged. “Later.” He licked her neck. “Much later. Want to go finish our dinner?” He sucked her neck hard, intent on leaving his mark. He was enjoying her taste and her reaction; the goose bumps he saw rising on her shoulders, “In bed?” “Yes.” Her answer was quick, without hesitation. Hot damn, he thought as he pulled her out of the tub and carried her to the bedroom.

Chapter Ten It started as a slow jog, the dream—always did. She was running down the alleyway. Angel could smell the stench of urine; recognized the look of it all. The two buildings narrowed, her vision tunneled and she wondered what would come next. He was sprinting ahead of her, watching over his shoulder, almost as if he was leading her. The alley lengthened, stretched until she couldn’t find the end. Her heart was pounding, a rhythm so strong she couldn’t catch her breath. She gasped for air. He was still there, the slim youth, leading her, guiding her. She was familiar with him, yet couldn’t piece him into the puzzle of her brain. Suddenly, a red brick wall jumped up in front of her and she smashed into it, hitting it hard, falling down. She always landed on her back. She could see the sky; the clouds meandered overhead, lazily rolling along as if they didn’t have a care in the world. She slid her gaze to the right. On the brick wall was a bulletin board. Coming to her elbows, Angel studied the picture before her. Her storyboard, from her living room. Slowly, she stood. She approached the wall. Tilting her head, she saw a hole in the drawing; it shouted to her, ‘you’re missing something here!’ She was … she filled in the location of the third bank robbery and the amount of loss to the bank— $1,500.00. She drew a line to the tenth bank robbery. Same get-a-way car was used, a white 1980 Chevrolet Caprice. She drew a star on the get-a-way vehicle from the fifth robbery—same car, a connection. Working quickly, she continued to fill in the details, same description of height and weight in the second and sixth robbery. Same clothes were worn; the checkered overshirt, black masks with the cutout eyes and mouth, black cargo pants, and black boots. The evidence she gathered from the scene had to do with the safe deposit boxes, but she didn’t recall what. She couldn’t remember the surveillance video. Where was the video? In the eighth robbery, she found one of the masks in the drop vehicle. Trace evidence included hair and fiber and they had extracted a nice sample of DNA that matched one of her suspects, Cross. Yeah that was it, Samuel Cross—that’s how she positively identified Cross. She had her suspicions; the DNA solidified them. She placed her hands up to her head and pressed on her temples, glancing around she couldn’t figure out where she was. Then she realized she wasn’t in the alley anymore, she was in her living room. Pain exploded behind her eyes, her knees buckled and she began to sink down to the floor. Suddenly, she was being lifted. Someone had caught her and was propelling her back up, saving her from the coldness of the hard wood. She opened her eyes, and was stunned to see Zeik cradling her in his arms. “You with me now?” he asked as he carried her back to the bedroom. “Uh huh.” She felt dazed. When had she gotten out of the bed? “You’ve been sleep walking for about thirty minutes.” As if he could read her mind, his answer was quick, almost clipped. “What?” She had never sleep walked in her life. She glanced down. She was naked, cold. What the hell?

“Babe, you got up from the bed, went to that board and began working on it. I followed you. You worked for a good half hour.” He gently laid her back in the bed and followed her down. He pushed her hair out of her face and studied her. He slowly began massaging her temples. She sighed, closed her eyes, and enjoyed his touch. “What time is it?” “Early, barely dawn. Go back to sleep, Angel.” His voice soothed her. She relaxed, and let her mind drift. He turned her, spooning his naked body behind hers. He wrapped his arms around her, warmed her. She snuggled in and let out a relieved breath. She liked it, she liked him, she could get used to him in her bed, real easy. **** The ringing of her cellular phone woke her. Fumbling, Angel scooted and reached for the night stand. Zeik groaned and rolled into the empty spot she had just vacated, mumbling as he went. She swung her legs around and grabbed her cellular phone. She hit the answer button. “Evening, Angel.” That voice, she knew it—Cross. “Evening.” She tried to sound casual. She didn’t want Zeik to know who she was talking to. She got up and walked toward the bathroom, shutting the door as she went. “We meet this time or your new boyfriend is ours.” She gripped the phone so tight she thought her hand would cramp. Oh God, they knew about Zeik. They’d been after her to meet for weeks. They wanted her dead … they taunted her with it. She didn’t buy in, never agreed to see Cross. His anger was elevating. She should have thought about Zeik. Her emotions made her weak. Damn, I should have considered him. I should have never let him in. She needed to finish this, right now. She was through playing games, done being scared. “Fine we meet, but he stays safe. I’ll bring the video.” “He’ll stay safe,” Cross affirmed. “Promise me, Slime.” She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have a choice. “Done.” “Where?” “5200 West International, The Izone. We finish this.” The Izone, great. As far as she knew only criminals hung out there. “Fine, we’ll finish it.” Angel hung up the phone. She wasn’t going to let him elaborate any further. She couldn’t let anything happen to Zeik. She walked softly back to the bed and sat. “Who was that?” Zeik turn over, his hand falling to her leg, caressing it. It was obviously an unconscious action on his part. She overlaid his hand with hers. She was amazed how tiny her hand was compared to his. The warmth of his skin heated her leg and melted her heart. When had she fallen in love him? “No one. Wrong number, go back to sleep.” She slid in next to him and snuggled her chin into his neck. He ran his hand up her leg, over her ass, and settled it into the small of her back. His touch felt so good, the roughness of his hand against her skin. Nice. He stroked her back with his thumb.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered as she ran her hand though his hair. So velvety, he had the softest hair. She gently kissed his cheek. He sighed, his thumb stopped circling on her back, his breathing evened. He mumbled, “’Kay,” and drifted off. She watched him sleep, gently pushing the hair off his face. He was perfect, absolutely the most attractive man she had ever known. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. He had no idea how deep she was into this situation. How could she have let herself become so attached to him? It was supposed to be some harmless sex, a onenight stand, scratch an itch with a hunk of a man. Didn’t work out that way. Cross had been threatening her for weeks. He wanted something, something she couldn’t remember, something she was supposed to have. She played along, made arrangements to give him the ‘video’. Nothing in her memory or the evidence she had indicated she had a video, of any sort. Of course she didn’t have all the evidence and couldn’t remember the stuff she didn’t have. At this point, she didn’t care. She was going to end this; she couldn’t place Zeik in the middle of it. It needed to end, quickly. He was lightly snoring. Even in his sleep he was handsome. She regretted what she knew she had to do. Inching his hand off her, she backed off the bed and stood. Reaching down, she opened the drawer and pulled a set of handcuffs out. Been a while since she had held the cold metal of a cuff in her hand. She moved to the other side of the bed and very gently picked up his hand and placed it over his head. He snorted; she froze. The nights sexual activity must have left him exhausted because he was sleeping heavy, otherwise she was sure he would be up in a second, trained as he was. She smiled at her thoughts. He went back to snoring. She sighed in relief. Working quickly she cuffed him to the solid wrought iron of the bed, then cinched the cuff as tight as she could around his hand without disturbing him. He should be okay. She’d leave him his phone so he could call one of his squad mates to release him as soon as she left the house. He’d just have to deal with the embarrassment. Man, she didn’t want to be around when he woke up.

Chapter Eleven Zeik didn’t know what woke him. He jerked awake, his eyes popping open. The outline of Angel in the closet caught his attention. The soft light coming from the closet told him she was fully dressed in black jeans and a black turtleneck. She was wearing a gun holster on her belt. She was priming her weapon, that’s what woke him, that simple click of the jacking back of an automatic gun. That particular noise could wake him from a dead sleep, which it obviously had. She slipped the gun into the holster on her right side, her drawing side. “What…” he stopped short when he tried to get up and his arm caught above his head. “What the fuck?” He pulled. Took him about a second to realize he was cuffed to the bed. Angel spun around at the sound of his voice. “Zeik, be still.” Well that command wasn’t going to work. He jerked his arm so hard pain radiated all the way to his shoulder. “What the hell is going on, Angel?” She snatched something from the closet and walked over to the foot of the bed. “The harder you tug at those cuffs, the tighter they will become. You know this. Be still.” She was right. He tried to relax. Bending one of his knees, he pushed his body up higher on the bed against the headboard and allowed his hand to dangle, taking a bit of the pressure off his arm. He wrapped his other arm around his bent knee and studied her. He didn’t see any point in testing the cuffs. They were obviously solid. She knew what she was doing when she set out to immobilize him. She was slipping on a bulletproof vest with an efficiency that made him wonder if she had taken the badge back up. She rolled up the sleeve of her turtleneck. “I’ve got to meet someone and I don’t want you tagging along, that’s all.” “That’s all huh? So you cuff me to the bed? You could have asked me to stay here.” She adjusted her vest and gave him a look, single eyebrow raised, doubt in her expression. “Right and you would have agreed?” She turned around and grabbed something off the dresser. Some sort of medical case. Snapping open the case, she pulled out a piece of plastic tubing, wrapped it around her arm and began tapping the vein on the inside of her arm. Zeik’s gut clenched in fear. Was she some sort of drug addict? He hadn’t seen track marks on her arm and that was something he wouldn’t miss. She inserted the needle without wincing, as if she had done it a million times before, and injected it straight into the vein of her arm. “What’s that?” “Pain killer. Don’t worry. They’re prescribed.” “Really, a hypodermic needle full of painkillers. Who prescribes that? “A very understanding doctor.”

“Why don’t you help me to grasp what you’re doing, Angel?” He tested the cuffs again. Nothing, they didn’t budge, at all. Why was she taking painkillers? What was going on? He vaguely remembered a phone ringing in the early morning hours. Shit it was still early morning, close to 4:30 a.m. “Don’t do anything stupid. I can help you. This is crazy. You don’t even have a car.” She pulled on a sweatshirt, then searched for her jacket. She picked it up from the chair and shrugged into it. It was difficult to tell she was armed now. She reached down and plucked up his jeans and dug his car keys from his pocket. She threw the keys into the air and smiled at him as she caught them in her out-stretched hand. “I do now.” “Shit. Listen to me, those drugs are going to make you slow.” “Nope, I’m used to them and have the ability to focus when I want.” Zeik clenched his jaw and tried to stay calm. Screw it. “Angel,” he screamed as he jerked on his arm. Shit that hurt. She stopped what she was doing. “Release me right now or you’re under arrest for assaulting a federal agent.” It was his last chance. She stared at him, hard. Then her lip curled into a smile. “Really? Should I call them myself? Matter of a fact, why don’t I call my dad right now? He would love to see you like this.” Her eyes widened as she eyed him, naked and tied to the bed like a love slave, awaiting her bidding. She tapped her cellular phone against her jaw, and simply stared. “Man, Z, you’re so sexy.” He shifted on the bed. He didn’t like the look in her eyes. “If I didn’t have to leave … I’d go down on you right now, and suck out every little bit of cum you had to give.” Then she ran her tongue over her lips. Shit, he tried to think of something benign, but his body wasn’t cooperating. Her dirty talk was taking his cock up, somewhere it had no business going, in the situation he was in. “If you get in this bed with me, we’re going to have a tussle you never imagined. I still have one good hand and legs.” He held up his hand and waved it. “Good, you might need it considering the state you’re in,” She nodded toward his cock. He grabbed the blanket and threw it over his lap. She laughed at his actions. She picked up his cellular phone and threw it at him. He caught it, mid air. “There you go, call who ever you want. I’ll leave the back door open and Wana will protect you.” “Angel, listen … LISTEN TO ME!” She crossed her arms. He had her attention. “I’m an FBI Agent, come on, I’m on SWAT. I CAN help you. Be reasonable. These guys WILL kill you as soon as look at you. That’s what’s this is about isn’t it? It’s Cross and Safron. They’ve been gunning for you since they shot you in Chicago. Don’t do this alone. I’m begging you. They were after you, you know? The day they led you into that alley, they did it on purpose. Trust me, I can help.” Her anger was almost audible. “You don’t know shit, Z. You’re not going anywhere. As far as trusting you… No…” She cut him off before he could protest. Then she picked up a black duffle bag and with a, ‘you stay there, I’ll be right back,’ she walked out.

“Angel,” he yelled as he tested the cuffs and kicked his feet. The bed was unyielding. He might have been tied to a solid slab of granite. He wasn’t going anywhere. Shit. Shit. Shit. Using his thumb he dialed the phone. He knew what he needed to do; he just wasn’t so keen on doing it. “Ellis here.” “Jim, It’s Z.” “Dude, what’s up? It’s awfully early?” “I need you, Sandy and Lion.” “Sure, where ya at?” “Angel Farin’s house.” “You in trouble?” He scooted up further against the headboard to relieve the pressure on his arm. “Well, I wouldn’t say I was in immediate danger of anything, but Angel might be. Tell Sandy to bring his SWAT gear. Oh and,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “bring your handcuff keys, my gear and more than one car. Come though the back door and be careful of the dog who appears dangerously like the clone of a wolf.” “Dude, I’m not going to even ask what all that means.” “And don’t call Jo.” “Man, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’ve got some ’splainin’ to do.” He sounded like Ricky Ricardo, from I Love Lucy. “Yeah, don’t I know it. Just get the hell over here, fast!” “I’m on it.” “Thanks, Jim.” “You got it.”

Chapter Twelve Sliding on her sunglasses, Angel slung the duffle bag over her shoulder and surveyed the area. Fifty-second and International Blvd; not somewhere you want to take the family for a Sunday drive. The Izone, the worst of the worse hung there. She knew this, despite the fact she had only been in the area a short time. A bar full of criminals. Great, she thought. Just the place a former FBI agent wanted to spend her morning. She checked her watch, 6:00 a.m. She spent some time casing the place, wanted to study what she was facing. She saw a couple of Cadillac Escalades in the parking lot, the vehicle of choice for most wealthy criminals. Other than that, the town was dead. Talk about feeling like she was walking into the gunfight at the OK Corral. No criminal in the world was up at 6:00 a.m. unless they had pulled an all nighter and were still spun up on the drug of the day. They usually crashed around 3:00 a.m. Of course, for most criminals, their day didn’t even start till 10:00 in the evening. She walked toward the entrance of the Izone. As she expected, they had opened it just for their wonderful meeting. As soon as she stepped in, a burly security guard greeted her—well, more like stopped her. He looked like he should be smashing heads together at the local wrestling club. His arms were so big he could barely move them. She had never seen such a huge neck except in the movies. “I’ll take the duffle.” He moved to pull the bag off her shoulder. She brought her hand up to block him. “Don’t think so, Joe.” She shifted the bag to the other shoulder. “Listen Bitch, you don’t come in here telling me what you can and cannot have in my place.” “Really.” She whipped the gun off her waist and brought it directly up to his forehead. “How about this, can I have this?” Big guys didn’t move so fast as Angel did. The pain killers, despite what Zeik said, worked; transported her back into her old body, if even temporarily, and that body never thought twice about defensive action. He growled, the noise he emitted might have scared most, but she had faced off with death before, and she wasn’t afraid. He hadn’t expected her to draw a gun on him; that much was clear by the surprised expression on his face. “Let her through, Butch.” She almost laughed at the guy’s name. The cultured voice addressing the goon guarding the door didn’t fit with the atmosphere, however the two pipsqueaks next to him did. Cross and Safron, in the flesh, same little punks she remembered. And the man behind the bar, pouring drinks, the same white guy from the shooting. Those facts were ingrained on her mind, not foggy like the remaining memories. “Have a seat, Angel Farin.” The gentleman swept his arm to the bar stool next to him. She didn’t recognize him. White male, gray salt and peppered hair, aristocratic features, expensive clothes, shoes shined to a ’t’. He was handsome in a sinister way. But still slimy. You could dress up a bad guy in a rich suit, give him a good haircut, throw some expensive cologne on him and he still smelled dirty. She took a seat next to him. “You don’t need that here.” He pointed to her gun. Cautiously, she slid the Glock back into the holster at her hip.

“You’re more beautiful than I was told.” He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. She immediately raised her arm, blocked his fingers … grabbed, twisted and arched his hand by his fingers in a hold she knew could break something if she applied enough pressure. “Don’t touch,” she spat out. She saw red right then, blocking her vision to anyone but him. Suddenly, the sound of the cocking of guns brought her back to the bar. Cross was shoving an automatic pistol into her temple, Safron was at her back. She slowly released their Boss’ hand. He started rubbing his wrist. “It’s okay, boys. Sit down.” “I’m sorry we got off to a bad start, Angel. May I call you that?” He reached back and drew one of the drinks off the bar. Angel eyed him, not giving him permission, nor denying him. “You see, I have a proposition for you, one I would think you might like much better than your current situation. I can’t see you being happy as a small time college schoolteacher. A woman like you needs action.” “Really, do tell,” she said. He nodded toward the bar; at the row of new drinks. She shook her head. All she needed was a little alcohol in the mix of her current pain killing cocktail to really fuck up her world. “No thanks, Mr…” she let her voice trail off. “You can call me Mr. Smith,” he answered. “Sure, whatever.” She watched as he downed his drink in one gulp. “You provide me with what I want, namely the video, and I’ll provide you with what you want. A future job with my organization, great pay and benefits.” With his statement everyone in the bar snickered. “Your organization, and that would be…” she waved her hand back and forth, “what?” “Why don’t we just keep it between us, to be revealed when you provide me with what I want and we’re doing business together.” He slammed the glass back onto the bar and nodded to the loser behind it. He rushed to refill. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall together for her. He wanted some sort of surveillance video, probably from one of the robberies. She couldn’t even remember having a video; matter-of-a-fact she recalled not having any video at all. What was she missing? She hated to admit it, but it looked like Z was right. She was going to need some help. She raised her fists, opened her hands, and splayed her empty fingers. “I don’t have the video with me. Do you think I’m an idiot?” She could see the anger flare in his eyes. He was obviously a man used to being in charge. One of his goons marched forward and raised a gun to the back of her head. She turned and stared at him, making eye contact, daring him. “Shoot me and you’ll get nothing. I’ve stored it in a safe place.” She began examining her nails. “Let’s call it insurance,” she concluded, trying to appear nonchalant, even though she could feel her heart pounding all the way to her temples. “Ahhh,” Smith picked up the second glass and tossed it back. “You’re smart, my Angel, smarter than I would have taken you for.” He smiled and gave a single nod to his goon. The gun was lowered, and she began to breath again. “You get me the video. Bring it to me. We’ll talk job. How’s that sound?”

She hopped off the barstool. Usually a move like that would have had her on the floor. Not this time. She didn’t feel a thing. His gaze strayed up and down her body, eyeing her like she was dessert for a man who enjoyed the whipped cream on the top. “Sounds like a plan. Next time we meet, just you and I … and in a location less,” she glanced around, “scummy.” He inclined his head to her. “My hotel room. Just the two of us. Would that meet with your satisfaction?” Okay, she would play his game. “Yeah, sounds good.” He pulled out a card and scribbled on it, then handed it to her. She tucked it into her pocket. “Tomorrow night,” he said as he paused to pull another drink off the laminated wooden bar. “Oh, and wear something nice.” “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Crap, she hoped she could get Z to cooperate with her by then. He had to be royally pissed at the situation she left him in. She moved to leave. Cross stood in her way. She rammed against him. He was so young, maybe sixteen by now, she almost felt sorry for him. He was a good-looking kid, but he was hanging with some serious losers. “Cross, you better get out of my way,” she said to him. “Um can I, could we talk for a minute, alone?” She glanced at Smith who waved a hand. “Sure, take it outside.” Angel stepped around him and made her way out of the bar. The kid followed close on her heels. She tried not to show her relief when she exited the establishment in one piece. “Yeah, um, ya know that shooting thing?” Cross was babbling when she pivoted toward him. “You mean the one where you nearly took my life and ruined my career?” she finished for him. “Yeah, you know … I don’t do that … I mean … that wasn’t me … I mean I wouldn’t have done it … these guys, they’re bad shit…” Angel held up her hand. “Cross, if you run with the vipers it’s sting or get stung.” The expression on his face dropped. Did he expect her to forgive him? Did he think it was going to be that easy? “Go back inside.” She told him. He stared at her, then turned and walked away back into the bar. Angel shook her head as she left. She couldn’t believe it. This whole situation sucked and she was getting in deeper than she was comfortable with. And now she was going to have to rely on the one person she didn’t want to involve, Zeik. As she strode past a slender alley, someone grabbed her from behind, placed her in an expert chokehold and pulled her into the alley. She kicked her feet out, trying to get a hold on the ground as he dragged her, leaving her boot marks in the dirt. She took note of her surroundings, his breath, everything she could until they stopped in an open doorway, tucked away from the street. She was slammed face first against the wall of the doorway.

Angel froze, when a knife came up to her throat. The hand was steady; the man was serious and well-trained. She was in trouble. “See how vulnerable you are?” She realized who it was, could smell him, recognized the feel of his body against hers. She knew him anywhere. “Zeik, I get your point,” she squeaked out, slowly sucking in air as his hold eased. He tucked his knife back into the sheath on his thigh, raised her hands against the wall, kicked her legs apart and efficiently frisked her. It was strangely arousing, having him take control of her. Removing her gun and a hidden knife, he pressed his body against hers, blocking her in so she couldn’t move, his arms bracketing her against the brick. She could feel his erection against the small of her back. He wasn’t the only one on fire. “That was a bitch of a thing to do,” he whispered into her ear. “I am a bitch. So how’d you find me?” She could only see him out of the corner of her eyes. He had on his SWAT mask, his face was covered; only his eyes and mouth could be seen. No law enforcement marks on him, he was in black gear all the way, on the stealth, a no-no for FBI Agents. “Your cellular phone, had it traced, saw my car. It wasn’t rocket science.” He fingered the radio on his shoulder. “I’ve got her, guys. Dismissed,” he said tersely, then he let out a strained breath. “Yes, I’m sure. Go back to the office. Keep this quiet. I’m not here. Neither are you guys.” “Roger that,” was the final words he said to his men. “You had your entire squad out here?” She tried not to laugh but ended on a chuckle, thinking about the position they would have had to see him in. “This isn’t funny, Angel.” In his anger, he nearly flattened her against the wall with his body. She could feel him, sense his need to hurt her, but he wouldn’t. She knew him, over two weeks and she was familiar with every bone in his body. He was a people pleaser, a good guy, and he would never harm her. She played on it. “Well, okay. Maybe not to you.” “Dammit, why did you have to do that?” He hit the wall next to her head. She flinched. “Don’t ever do that to me again, don’t fucking ever do that to me again. I’ll walk away, do you hear me. I’ll walk away, right now.” Her gut clenched in fear. She couldn’t deny him. “Walk away, Z. That’s a fine idea.” He dropped his gloves on the ground, his mask followed. He forced his hand under her shirt, the coolness of his palms warmed from her body heat. Running his hands up her stomach he crowded in on her, bending to lean his head beside hers. She loved the scent of his cologne. She would remember it long after he was gone from her life. He moved as if he hadn’t heard her. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Do you even care?” His voice broke, the tenseness in his tone made her wince. She did care. That was the problem—she cared too much. She felt defeated, like his words stabbed her in the heart. “I care, Z.” “Are you sure? You just told me to walk away?” He asked as his hands traveled, he cupped her breasts and gently tweaked her nipple. She sucked in a breath. She was getting hot, so hot. They were somewhere they weren’t supposed to be, doing something

they weren’t supposed to be doing, and she was wet in excitement. Slowly, Zeik dipped his knees and thrust his hard cock against her crease, she moaned, sighed and dropped her head in shame at her own reaction and what she had said to him. “I’m sure.” “Want me to show you, Angel, how good it is between us?” His hands moved. He was unbuttoning her pants, un-zipping and pushing them down. His hand dipped into her heat, his fingers separating, massaging her clit. She arched against him, the flattening of his body against hers kept her from moving away. God, he was so big, he surrounded her with his body, his essence. She was lost in him, in the moment; felt so damned good, he was so good. “Yessss,” she cried out to no one in particular. As his fingers delved into her wet channel, she rode them and moaned in pleasure. His other hand left her, he could feel him fumbling behind her, then he was there, his shaft replacing his finger, easing in from behind, he leaned forward and thrust. “Ahhhh,” Angel moaned, so full, so wonderful, so right. “See,” he whispered in her ear as he moved, again and again his hips sliding forward. Despite the fact her body was nearly numb, she could feel him, every hard inch of him push in and out of her. The dangerous situation they were in made her climb higher then she ever would have. She was going over, fast. He must have felt it; he moved quick, hard, grabbed her hips to steady her. “Angel,” he groaned. She recognized his tone of voice. He was close. “Come with me,” he pleaded, his hands tightening on her hips to the point of pain. “God,” her head fell back onto his shoulder. She was panting, her heart racing, she could feel the need clawing at her heat. With him it was always this way, a want so hard it hurt, an excitement so thick it nearly stopped her dead every time he was inside her, with her. Two more quick thrusts, their cries mingled, she went with him, orgasmed hard. God, she loved him so much. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, releasing and dropping to her cheeks. He buried his head in her shoulder, panting against her neck. Her tears fell onto his cheek, and she knew he felt it. She was so tired, so fatigued with this revenge that consumed her life. Zeik had been the one good thing to happen to her since the shooting. She didn’t want to push him away, and she didn’t want to see him hurt. “Don’t let me walk away. Please.” He was pleading now, his earlier threat gone. He turned her, took her into his arms and cradled her close, his hands soothing her hair. She tried not to let his affectionate words get to her, but they did. She was crying in earnest now, deep gulping tears, over what she knew she couldn’t let go. He pulled back and framed her face with his hands. “Baby,” he said as he wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “I’m in love with you, Angel. Don’t let me go.” So there it was. She sighed and nodded. “Let’s meet back at my house. I want to go over some things with you.” He helped her dress then got himself put together. At the last minute, he tugged her against him and kissed her, eager and hard. Her mouth opened under his, tongues touching, mating. Then he replaced her weapons. “Promise you’ll meet me there.”

She puffed out a breath and soothed the blond hair from his eye. He was something, her Z. She was stuck with him now, in love, and in trouble. “I promise.” He slipped on his mask and gloves, slung his MP-5 over his shoulder and hit the alley going the opposite direction in a fast jog. He was going to need to get out of the neighborhood quick; she had every confidence in him. She made her way to his car without incident and headed toward her house.

Chapter Thirteen “He wants the surveillance video.” From what she told him of her conversation with Mr. Smith, he was sure the video was the prize. They had spent the better part of an hour going over all of it, everything she had. He could see the dark edges of exhaustion crowding in on her. Her painkiller was wearing off. She would be hurting soon, he knew it, but he didn’t let up. He needed to have it all. “Is there a surveillance video? I thought they were all taken … well the one’s I can remember anyway.” “They were, except,” he grabbed his briefcase and thumbed through it. He slid out the file he was searching for and laid it on the table. Flipping through the pages he came to the evidence log. There, he tapped item number two. “Except this one, the last robbery, the one where you were shot.” He sat down at the table when he saw her wince; her face turned a sallow shade of white. Gently, he took her hand in his and caressed her palm, trying to bring her back and settling her nerves. “Babe, you okay? Hey, look at me.” He wanted to be her anchor, there for her when she needed it. It was time she stopped doing everything on her own. Her eyes met his, her expression pained. “Okay?” “Yeah, I’m okay.” She clutched his hand. “There’s something on this video he wants.” “Obviously.” “Let’s go to the office. I have a player and the video is in evidence. Let’s see what has him all hinked up. Okay?” he asked. “Sounds good,” she answered. “Can you get someone to teach your class today?” She rubbed a hand over her forehead then fisted it over her eye while she clenched her teeth and hissed. He could see her fatigue and pain. It ate at his gut to watch her like this. “Yeah, let me call the substitute.” He thumbed through the files as she made her phone call. “I need a shower,” she said. “Nothing like visiting the seediest bar in Oakland to make you feel dirty.” “Okay, you shower, then we’ll head out.” She nodded and left the room. Zeik listened for the water to start before he moved then he bolted toward the bedroom, shucking his clothes as he went. He needed a shower too, why give up such a golden opportunity. He wanted her again. He didn’t think he would ever not want her. Tugging off his shoes, he dropped them and pushed off his pants. Naked, he made his way to the bathroom. It was a stall with large translucent glass blocks walling the shower from the rest of the bathroom; leaving a door-sized opening leading to the enclosure. Coming around the corner, Zee paused and watched her. He didn’t want to seem like a voyeur, but this was too good to pass up. She is so beautiful, he thought. With water cascading down her body she swirled the washcloth in circles, the soap bubbling on her skin, her hand against the wall, her eyes

closed, her expression was one of pure pleasure. She sighed, turned and leaned her back against the glass blocks. As it hit her, the water created a halo of rising steam. Moving in on her, he gently removed the cloth from her hand, dropped it into the corner and took over with his hands. She tensed, her eyes snapping open, then she relaxed, a smile curving her mouth. “Hey there,” he said as he ran his soapy hands up her stomach, cupping her breast. “Hey there yourself,” she hummed when he played with her, his fingers tweaking, swirling, enjoying her. She reached over, pumped liquid from the dispenser on the wall and smoothed it over her hair, lathering it. He pulled her forward into the water and rinsed her hair. He leaned in and latched onto her nipple, and walked her back against the glass wall. Her hands fell to his hair, his body blocked the water. He had to have her again. He couldn’t seem to get a handle on his craving. Picturing her in that bar this morning, alone. He had nearly gone crazy when he watched her walk in there. “I need you,” he groaned as he assaulted her with his lips and teeth, moving from her breasts to her stomach. Going down on his knees he wrapped his arms around her legs and drove into her pussy with his mouth. He licked her, tasting her, tonguing deep, he loved her heat with his tongue and lips. She nearly collapsed against the wall; he held onto her, worked her until she was groaning. He needed her to crave him back, wanted her screaming for him. “Do you need me, my Angel?” he asked between nips, he pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked. “God, yes,” she moaned out. He gave her a final deep lick, using his tongue to probe, he buried his face and enjoyed. He could taste how close she was, felt her climax coming. He leaned back, leaving her on the edge. “Then say it. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me what I need to hear.” “I’m yours, Z, yours,” she cried out the words, her body tense. He went back in, using his tongue, he let her take what she asked for, holding onto her as she clenched her hand in his hair and orgasmed. “Ahhhhh.” Her pleasure peaked his. He kissed his way up her body, settled on her lips, shared her juices. They kissed, long, hard. She grasped his shoulders as he ground his erection against her. He loved the feel of her in his arms, so small. Their differences aroused him. He felt huge, masculine, like the hunter claiming his mate. She was his. “Do you need me?” he asked breaking the kiss, traveling to her neck and sucking. She arched against him, her hands moving to cup his head. He loved her taste. He slid against her and the contrast excited him. The heated water cascading against his back felt wonderful but nothing like the feel of her soap—slick body in his arms. “Yes, you know I do.” He’d take her answer. Using the wall as leverage, he cupped her ass and raised her up enough to take him, entering her slowly, one inch at a time. “Look at us. See how we fit.” He glanced down, her gaze dropping with his as he watched them come together. Erotic, it was pure sensual sharing. He pulled all the way out then back in, setting a lazy rhythm, his heart pounding all the way to his cock. He wanted her to feel everything he was. He tried to keep the slow pace, but he couldn’t. She was so tight, the friction, heat, too much. Her head dropped back against the glass. “Ahhhh,” she panted out.

“God. Angel, so good.” He loved to hear her pleasure. It elevated his arousal; he was so close. “Z,” she sighed out, her hands tightening on his shoulders. He kissed her, an open mouthed mating, lips sliding, their tongues tangling, his thrusting in tandem with his hips. “Come for me,” he groaned against her lips, wanting her with him. Her breath hitched. He pumped, straining to hold back. She cried out against his mouth. He let himself go, pouring into her in one final thrust. He buried his face in her neck, panting, trying to catch his breath, gently lowering her to the floor. “I love you,” he said, sucking on her shoulder, kissing his way to her lips, nibbling the corner of her mouth. “Oh Zeik.” Tears formed in her eyes, then bit-by-bit, she smiled. Oh god, she was going to tell him it could never work or something equally disappointing. He sucked in air and held it. “I love you, too.” Zeik puffed out a relieved breath. “About time.” He laughed and she chuckled with him. “Can we move this to the bedroom?” she asked. He lifted her into his arms. Leaning back he turned off the water. “Oh yeah, we sure can.” “But, we’re all wet.” “I’ll dry you off later.” “Office, don’t we need to go to the office?” she asked as he carried her to the bed. “Later,” he answered as he followed her down onto the bed. He kissed her jaw, then ran his mouth to her lips, where he took what he wanted. “Much later,” he murmured as he worked his way down her body. **** “Okay, let’s see what we have here.” Zeik grabbed a chair, flipped it around and straddled it. He eased down, fingering the remote. Angel was familiar with the recorder they were using. It advanced one frame at a time so they could capture most of the surveillance video. The problem was, they were tracking four cameras, every six seconds of each frame was all they were going to get. It was moving toward noon. Angel was glad Zeik decided to let her sleep a couple hours before they went to the office. Well, actually, Zeik didn’t give her much of a choice; he sort of wore her out. Declaring her love had sexually charged him up. Not that she was complaining. She reached up and fingered the hickey on her neck. She had them all over. Zeik went crazy; he seemed insatiable. Sometimes she wondered if she was going to be able to keep up with him, sexually, then his mouth touched her skin, and she didn’t care. She smiled at her thoughts as she touched her lips. “Care to share?” he reached out and caressed her cheek. God, her heart hitched. All he needed to do was touch her and she was ready to fall back into bed with him. He was so attractive, sitting there straddling that chair, his muscled arms resting on the top. A light sprig of chest hair peaked out where his shirt vee'd. He was wearing tight black tactical cargo pants that accentuated his thick thighs…and other things. So masculine, so sexy. His hair was mussed, probably from the hot kiss in the car, when she had buried her hands into it. She wanted to kiss him again, right now, in the middle of his office. She

would be happy to walk her lips over every inch of his hard body. She licked her lips in anticipation. She loved this feeling of need. “Ohhh, hooo. I think I shouldn’t have asked.” He smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. He knew what she was thinking. She didn’t need to say anything; she must be giving off some type of mating pheromone. She expelled a single long breath and tried to get control of herself. She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried to focus. “Sorry, maybe—but it’s your fault.” She grabbed the remote from him and started the video. “My fault. Oh come on now, don’t start that. How is it my fault?” “You’re too sexy,” she spat the words out in an accusation. That shut him up. She couldn’t help it. She laughed at his expression and slapped him on the arm. “I’m teasing you.” He shook his head and quickly captured her retreating hand in his. Slowly, he turned her hand over and laid a gentle kiss in her palm. Angel could feel the heat rise from deep down. He had this ability to stir her in ways she never dreamed. Her mind tripped back to after they had made love and he decided it was time to dry her off. She was near boneless by the time he finished drying every inch of her body. She tried to towel him in return, but her towel dropped from her fingers when he began sucking on her neck, then he moved to her breast. Coming back into the now, she wiped her other hand over her brow. He was making her sweat. “How’s it going, baby?” Her father’s voice had her snatching her hand out of Zeik’s like it was a Taser that had stunned her. “Hi Daddy.” She stood and stepped into her father’s arms. “It’s going good.” He pulled back and stared at her as if he was a human lie detector. Sometimes her dad made her so nervous. “You sure?” “Yeah, yeah. It’s all good.” He let her go and turned toward Zeik. “Zeik, you taking care of my little girl?” Zeik coughed into his hand as if he was choking. “Sir, yes, she’s in good hands.” He raised his hands in the air to demonstrate what he was saying. “She better be, son, or you have me to answer to and it will not be pretty.” Angel watched her father’s expression when he spoke the words. He was dead serious. Zeik stood and faced off. “Sir, you can count on me.” Angel expected him to salute now. Her mouth lifted as she tried not to smile. Briefly, his eyes strayed to her. She could see the message in his expression. Don’t make me smile. “Daddy, Zeik has me covered. Don’t worry.” Her father turned from the fierce ‘don’t make me hurt you’ stare and pivoted toward her. He grinned. “Okay, little girl. You tell me if you have any problems, okay?” “You know it.” He gave her one final hug, then left. Angel sank back into the chair and grabbed the remote as if nothing had happened. “He’s got me covered … don’t worry, Daddy,” he mimicked her in a falsetto voice as he took his seat. She looked at him. He raised a single brow. Then she broke out laughing. He grabbed the remote from her and started the video. Frame by frame they watched it, Angel trying not to snicker as they went back to work.

“You’ll pay for that remark,” was all he said. She chuckled and mimicked him in a low voice, “You’ll pay for that remark.” He stopped the video and sent her a pointed glare. She smiled. Finally, his mouth lifted and he shook his head as he laughed along with her. “You know he’s going to murder me in my sleep if he ever really finds out what’s going on.” “Yeah, I know. He’ll probably not wait till you’re asleep.” “Go back to maybe a hour before the bank robbery,” she said as she tried to ignore him so she could concentrate. He started the video. For near thirty minutes they eyed the flashing screen. Image after image appeared, one after the other in the six-second cycles, five cameras. “Stop.” Angel leaned forward. “Back up a couple frames.” “There.” She tapped the computer screen. “There’s the bastard.” Sure enough, as obvious as anything, there was Smith. He had a briefcase in his hand, and was wearing dark sunglasses, a baseball hat. “That’s him. That’s Smith, the man I saw today.” “Okay, good. Let’s work on this. What’s he doing?” They watched as he coordinated with one of the bank personnel, signed something, showed identification, lifted a key from a chain on his neck and headed to the back of the bank. “He’s going to the area where the safe deposit boxes are.” Smith, and a bank employee, moved through a set of doors then disappeared. “Shit, no surveillance there.” She watched the six-second shots. “Nothing when he went into the safety deposit box room.” “Okay, I’ve heard of this.” Zeik kicked back in his chair and crossed his legs. “I heard of terrorists doing this, exchanging items with this safety deposit box system when they have something they consider so valuable they’re worried about security, from computers with access codes to money, to directions on where to pick up the guns. At the train station they clean the lockers out after 45 days, and the only other way is to do it the old-fashioned cold war spy way, dead drops. If you have drugs, money, whatever then you risk it being found and maybe taken. So they use their fake identifications and pay a year in advance for a box. They both get keys. There’s no surveillance, no worries the item can be stolen. What better way to exchange illegal goods?” “No better way. So the question is … what is he picking up, or leaving?” “No kidding.” Zeik advanced the tape. About ten minutes later, Smith came out carrying the same brief case. “So this might be why he’s wanting the video.” Zeik snapped his fingers. “And this might be why there’s no video in any of the other bank robberies.” Angel lifted her hand to her head and thumbed her scar. “Really, I can’t recall … I didn’t…” “Hey.” He rubbed his thumb down her arm. “I remember it. Isn’t that all that matters?” She nodded, thankful they had finally come together. Grateful she decided to stop being a lone wolf. “Yeah, thanks.”

He patted her knee. “So do you think this is why they were robbing the banks? I do remember they weren’t getting much cash. And in that last robbery, we came down on them so quick; they had to exit the bank way faster than normal. They might not have had enough time to find the surveillance system to get the tape.” “Yeah,” Zeik grabbed for the case file from the last bank robbery, then he reached for the phone and dialed. “Let’s check on something. I have a hunch.” “This is Special Agent Carl Zeik. May I speak with the Bank Manager please?” Angel briefly wondered what he was doing. “Mr. Darren, how are you? My name is Special Agent Carl Zeik. I’m working on your bank robbery from August 23rd of last year. Do you recall? Great. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He paused. “Yes, that’s correct I have taken over Special Agent Farin’s case…” he stopped talking. “No, no, she’s fine. We’re partnering on the case. Yes, yes I know she’s a lovely girl.” He winked at her. She shook her head. Only Zeik could charm the likes of an elderly bank manager from Chicago. “Right, yes. I’ll tell her. Great. Listen, I was curious, do you keep records of access to and from the safety deposit boxes?” He pulled out a paper pad and started scribbling on it. “Great, great could you pull me all the records on who had boxes during the time of the robbery, in particular any Mister Smith’s and when they accessed the boxes? You do? Great.” He placed his hand over phone and whispered to her, “They’re computerized.” She nodded. She was beginning to see where he was going with this. “Okay, who else is on the box with him?” He wrote a name on the paper. “Great and when was the last time either of them accessed the box and those dates prior to the robbery? Uh huh, yeah. Okay, great. Thanks. Can you fax those records to me? Let me give you my fax number. Oh and do you have any surveillance in the vault? You don’t. Okay, right.” He read off his fax number while Angel waited. “Thanks so much, Mr. Darren. I really appreciate it. I will, I’ll give her your best. Thanks.” He smiled and made a big star on his paper and tapped it with his pen. “Now, we’re in business.” She glanced at his notes. “And James Smith is on the box with John Smith. They opened the box a week before the bank robbery. James Smith accessed the box the day prior to the robbery, and John Smith, within thirty minutes of the robbery. I have the exact times, the clerks inputs the time into the computer logs when anyone accesses their box.” “This video we have covers the day prior.” “Let’s check around 3:30 p.m.” She rewound the tape, getting it as close as she could, then she hit play. He was right on time, 3:31 p.m. A Middle Eastern looking man, dark hair, dark skin, tall. He had a close cut beard and mustache. He was dressed in business attire, like he was there for just another bank transaction. His gate was casual, as if he had no worries; he strutted with a confidence that set her teeth on edge. He pulled the key from around a similar chain on his neck, and smiled at the bank clerk as he held out is identification.

“Here, we can capture a picture of him.” Zeik rolled forward, tapped a few keys on the computer then zinged back. “Done.” They continued to watch. The man followed the same routine the other Smith had and walked out with a similar briefcase in hand. “Anything good on him as far as biographical data from the Bank Manager?” “Sure, I’ve got everything, but what do you want to bet it’s all false?” “Yeah, I’m sure,” she said. “I’ve got something better.” He picked the phone back up. “Let me speak to our NSA liaison. I’ll ship this over to him and see if he recognizes Mr. Smith number one. If he’s a terrorist, then he will know.” “Good idea.” She waited as he rolled over to his computer once more and typed. He unclipped his cellular phone from his belt and activated his direct connect. He was so sexy, even here, working. He turned her on. The way his hair curled in different directions on his collar, how his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders as he typed, even his voice, the command quality as he worked. She was truly smitten with him. Like a high school girl on her first date. She remembered running her mouth down his body, taking his cock deep into her mouth and sucking; watching him arch and moan in pleasure. Her thoughts made her shift in her chair; she was getting wet just sitting there reflecting on their lovemaking. She was lost. Returning to her house sounded really good right now. “Hey, Frank what’s up?” He laughed as he tapped away at the computer. “Poker night is closed to you, asshole, since you creamed us the last time.” Angel shifted in her chair. Did he need to use that particular word? “Yeah, whatever, listen I’m shipping you a picture. Run it though your system. See if you can identify him. Call me on my cellular, okay? Thanks.” Finished, he turned toward her. “Let’s see if that gets us anything. Can I take you to lunch? There’s a cafeteria on the first floor.” Eating, that was safe. It would take her mind off of wanting to rip his clothes off. “Sure.” She groaned as she stood. The painkillers had worn off. She was tired, deep down to the bone. It has been an exciting day. He was there, beside her, before she could even take a step. “Babe, are you okay, sore?” he asked as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Yeah, no. Yeah, Z. I’m sore.” She sighed and leaned against him. She wished they could just go home, take off their clothes and enjoy what remained of the day, leisurely worshipping each other’s bodies. “I can go down and pick us up a couple sandwiches. Why don’t you stay here?” There was that nice guy again, always gentle and considerate. She smiled. “No, I’ll go, thanks.” He anchored her to his body and walked to the door. **** “Go ahead.” Zeik set down his sandwich. “Hey, buddy got info for you on your guy.” “Great.” Zeik pulled a small notebook from his pants pocket.

“Well here’s what I can tell you. He’s a major terrorist, and he’s ours. We’ve been looking to get something solid. So give it up, all of it.” “Really.” Zeik dropped the notepad back into his pocket. If the NSA was taking over the case then he wasn’t going to bother with documentation. They wouldn’t allow it, and he wasn’t going to hassle with it. “Okay, we’re coming up.” “Sounds good.” Zeik quickly cleaned up the rest of their lunch and held his hand out to Angel. She leaned forward, edged out of the booth and latched onto his hand. He could tell she was in pain. He hated this, despised everything about her hurting. He wished he could wave it casually away. But he couldn’t. She had been in physical therapy for a while. Even with his limited knowledge on her injuries, he realized it was going to take a good long time before she improved beyond where she was now. “Let’s go. We’re heading to the top.” “The top?” “I’ll explain on the way.” They rode the elevator in silence. Zeik was taking her to the top floor of the building where the Joint Terrorism Task Force was housed. She knew the drill. He only needed to explain with a couple of quick sentences. Every major city had a JTTF, like in Chicago. She also realized what it meant to have the NSA take the case over. “When we finish, can you drop me off at the physical therapy office? I need to get back onto my regular workout.” He turned toward her, pinning her with his stare. She met his gaze with her own. He saw the sleepy desire there, waiting, simmering, mirroring his own. He recognized her need, felt connected with it, deep down, all the way to his cock, which was rising at the place his thoughts were taking him. Back to the bedroom, buried deep inside her, linking with her in a way he couldn’t explain. Having her, any way, and any position he wanted. His heart began pounding. He stepped her back until he was pinning her against the wall of the elevator. “I’m not giving you enough exercise, my Angel?” He leaned in and stroked her cheek with the roughness of his jaw. She gasped, a small noise. God he loved that sound. His breathing began to speed up in unison with the blood running through his body; his heart was firing his longing to the burning point. He could feel the heat climbing down his body, centering in one place. He sucked in her scent, a deep long intake of breath. “God, you turn me on.” He pressed against her, letting her feel him. She buried her hand in his hair and caressed, then moaned when his lips trailed down to her neck. He loved that, loved when she touched him, and enjoyed him. Nothing better. He wanted to return the favor, trailing his tongue over her neck he crowded in and sucked, hard. He knew she loved this, her neck was the most sensitive spot on her body. He meant to take advantage of it, as much as he could. She arched against his body, her hand fisted in his hair, almost to the point of pain. She moaned. “Oh yeah, baby, moan for me, yes.” The feeling of control he experienced when he had her like this was heady. ‘Ding.’ The warning chime of the elevator reminded him where they were; he stepped back, his hand trailing down her arm to connect with hers. He pulled her out of the elevator, keeping her attached to him in his own small way. He didn’t care what

people thought. She was his, and they would know it. Checking in at the front, they were cleared through all the security measures and led into a small interview room. Frank Masters was waiting, his hand extended. “Hey, what’s up, man?” He released Angel’s hand to shake Frank’s. “Frank Masters meet Angel Farin.” Frank shook Angel’s hand. As Frank’s gaze walked over her, Zeik could see the appreciation in his expression. Some sort of force almost robbed him of speech. Suddenly, he wanted to take Frank down in a full on chokehold and smash his face into the carpet. Holy shit, I’m jealous. Frank was his friend; they played poker together every other Sunday. What the hell was he thinking? Slowly, Zeik took Angel’s hand into his and cleared his throat. Frank’s gaze traveled and his eyes met Zeik’s. Didn’t take him long to get the message. It was like a silent communication between men. She’s mine, Zeik was yelling, only he wasn’t voicing it. Frank gave him a single nod and sat. “Have a seat, guys.” “Tell me what you got.” Frank was no nonsense now. He was a professional. It was clear the man who had come across their radar was his now. In a way, Zeik was glad. The more support he had on this case, the better and the NSA had clout, way more than he could drum up. This wasn’t a simple bank robbery anymore. Now it was about keeping Angel out of trouble. She explained all the details she could. Zeik filled in when he recognized a hole. Frank was writing furiously. Better him than me, Zeik thought. An hour later, Frank laid down his pen and sat back in his chair. He steepled his fingers under his chin. “So Angel, you have a meeting with Smith tomorrow night?” “Right.” She had yet to release Zeik’s hand. This made him feel good. She was finally accepting his support. “Okay, you’re going to go through with that meet…” before Frank could even finish his sentence, Zeik was up. With the shock of his movement, Angel’s hand jerked out of his. “No way, Masters, is she going to meet with this bastard again.” “Zeik.” Angel stood and grabbed his shoulder. “Z, man, you need to step back a little.” Frank was up, as well. “Fuck you, man. If you think you’re going to use my girlfriend for bait, you got another thing coming.” Frank held up his hands. “Can I finish? Will you listen to me with a clear head? These guys are after her. How do you expect her to get out from under them unless we end it? And how do you want us to do that? We don’t have enough, with one person’s testimony, one person who has skirted the letter of the law to get what she needs? How’s that going to look, Z? Seriously, man. Angel’s a rogue. You know what the courts and even the press do to Agents who do things above the law.” “She isn’t…” he faced off with Frank, his anger near boiling. “Stop.” Angel’s command and the squeezing of his shoulder shut him up. He took a single breath, then another, trying to calm himself. “Zeik, he’s right.” She pushed him back down to his seat. “I’ve been doing things I shouldn’t have to get what I wanted. Frank’s correct, none of this will stand-up in court. I need to finish this, and make it clean. I want these crooks

to go down. I want it so bad I can taste it. You told me to trust you. You said you would help. I need you clear now, I need you to do what you said you would.” There were tears in her eyes. Zeik slumped back into his chair. She sat down with him. God, what was he doing? Getting emotional wasn’t going to help anything. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” He re-connected their fingers, bringing her hand up he kissed it, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “Listen Z,” Frank leaned forward and made eye contact with him. “Man, I know you, you’re my friend. I have the most sophisticated equipment law enforcement has to offer. Do you really think I would let anything happen to her? I promise you I’ll take every precaution.” Zeik’s heart clenched in fear. He had been on more than one operation with Frank. He was on the joint SWAT team with Frank and he was good. He tried to wrap his head around what Frank was saying. “I’m in, all the way. She stays in constant communication with me,” Zeik demanded. “You’re in buddy, all the way. Okay? Can we talk about forming a plan of action now?” “Yeah.” Zeik wiped a drop of sweat off his forehead. God, he was nervous at even the thought of Angel facing off with these men. Like the blinding fear he felt when he saw her walk into that bar, knowing he wasn’t in there to protect her. “Zeik.” She lifted her hand and placed her finger under his chin, rotating his head so he was looking directly at her. “It’ll be fine, okay?” She stroked her hand over his cheek. With that simple touch, he could feel his body responding, hardening. He was getting a raging erection in the middle of the NSA interview room, with one of his poker buddies sitting across from him. Christ, it didn’t get any more embarrassing than that. “I’m not happy,” he said as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Not happy at all. Don’t take any risks—promise me.” He nuzzled her cheek with his. Being this close to her reminded him an hour earlier she had been underneath him, riding a sensual wave together. He wanted that back, wanted her under him again. “I promise.” He turned back to Frank’s knowing stare. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Fourteen Zeik switched the communication device on. “Can you hear me?” “I’ve got you, loud and clear.” The sound of Angel’s voice reassured him. Frank’s techs had fitted her with the most sophisticated, wireless, secret service issue ear COM she could get. With her hair down, it was virtually undetectable. A tiny recording device secreted inside a beautiful necklace, dangled low into the vee of her sexy, black evening gown. She looked incredible, sitting on the table, waiting for Frank’s boy’s to finish with the microphone. When they were done, Zeik nodded to Frank. “Give us a minute, guys.” Frank motioned for his guys to leave and he followed them out. Zeik fitted himself into the slit in the front of Angel’s gown and between her legs. He ran a finger down the material line in the front of her form fitting dress and played. It was designed to show cleavage and more. It made him hard just looking at her. She sucked in a slow breath at his actions. He loved how she reacted to his touch. “Be careful, Angel. Don’t take chances, with anything. Get him to disclose the next level, then get out. That’s it, nothing more. Frank and his crew can take it from there. With that information, he should be persuaded to use an undercover agent.” “I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” She rubbed hand over his forehead to push his hair out of his eye. Her touch steadied him. He was close to loosing it over the possibility of sending his girlfriend into the arms of a criminal. “Babe, I do worry, every second. I’m … just … God, I love you.” He ran his fingers along her jaw line, traveling to caress her bottom lip. “I love you, too.” She smiled and rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned in and kissed her, passionately. No nibble, he wanted to claim her, remind her who she belonged to. He took possession of her mouth with his own and coaxed her to open for him. His tongue danced with hers. He would never get enough to satisfy his itch for her. Slowly, he pulled back. “Let’s go.” **** “Okay, Angel. Nice and slow,” Frank instructed. The surveillance van didn’t leave Zeik much room to pace but he managed. He bent over and checked the monitor. They had a closed circuit TV camera pointed toward the front of the hotel. They could see Angel enter. From there they were patched into the hotel surveillance systems, which in his mind, weren’t going to cut it. “That surveillance system sucks. We’re only going to catch the lobby and the halls,” Zeik snarled. “Zeik, we have her completely wired up. Relax. She’ll be fine.” “Relax, relax,” he chanted. “Tell me Frank, would you be relaxed if your girl was going in there?” Zeik eased down into one of the chairs in front of the computer screens. “No.” Frank’s simple one word answer didn’t ease his fears. He was nearly frantic with worry.

“She’s a trained former Federal Agent, Z. Give her some credit.” Zeik ran a hand over the back of his neck to wipe off the sweat as he watched Angel walk into the hotel and make her way to the elevator. The strain of waiting was killing him. “Shit, I’m trying. Not so easy.” If he were a drinking man he’d be tossing back shots right about now. “We have an entire team standing. It will take them less then a minute to get to her. I have undercover Agents in the hotel; waiters, housekeeping, lobby, janitors. Takes the response time down to thirty seconds.” “Yeah, I know. Still…” His voice trailed off. He also had his own team out there; led by no other than Angel’s father. Zeik thought Jack Farin was going to have a heart attack when he and Angel finally briefed him on what was happening. Frank and he didn’t talk after that, only watched and listened. Frank was busy working his NSA magic, coordinating with the technician next to him and his on-standby SWAT team. Zeik knew Frank was good at his job. That wasn’t the issue. His problem was the unknown. Smith could shoot and kill Angel in the blink of an eye. “Less than thirty seconds won’t mean shit if he shoots her.” “I know, Z, I know. I’m doing my best to prevent that from happening.” Frank’s voice was even, but Zeik heard underlying stress weave into his answer. An operation like this was incredibly hard to run. “Okay, Frank. Do your thing.” Zeik tried to stay calm, focused and objective. The game was in Angel’s hands now. **** She was scared. Deep down frightened. She tried to master the fear, not let it take her over. I need to stay focused, she thought as she punched the button to call the elevator. Taking a deep breath she glanced at the janitor watering the plant. He acknowledged her with a single nod. Angel’s panic eased a bit. Frank had nearly overdone her inside coverage. He had people lurking everywhere. It was no wonder with the way Zeik grilled Frank for hours on his plan. Zeik made sure she was walking into one very well planned operation. As she stepped into the elevator, she prayed it would work. The ride up was excruciating slow. She sucked in several cleansing breaths. “You reading me?” she asked. Just to make sure. “I’m here, Angel. With you every step of the way. Stay the course, you’re doing great.” Frank’s voice was reassuring. She settled some. Bending her knees, she flexed her legs and bounced up and down, trying to alleviate her stress. The pain was there, lurking under the surface. She didn’t take any painkillers; it was time to start standing on her own. She understood now, taking those had been stupid. Lately, she was realizing a lot about herself. Like maybe the revenge eating away at her life wasn’t so important after all. She had this vision of building a future with Zeik and she wanted to be around to live that dream. The ‘ding’ of the elevator brought her out of her musing. Stepping into the hall, she approached room 514, the Executive Suite. She knocked on the door. It was immediately opened, the muscle, Butch, from the bar guarding the entrance. “Hello, Mr. Goon. I believe I have an appointment with Mr. Smith.” He grunted and propelled the door open. Trying not to flinch, she stepped past him. He slammed the door

shut behind her. Cross and Safron were sprawled out on the loungers watching a huge flat screen TV. Smith was comfortably resting at a barstool, sipping a drink. He seemed relaxed and in control. She hated he was so laissez-faire when she felt like her heart was stuck in her throat. “Angel Farin. I’m so pleased you decided to join us.” “Yeah, nothing like a room full of goons to make a good time.” She glared at the other three men in the room. Smith snapped his fingers. It’s like a bad episode of the Godfather, Angel thought. The other three men scrambled out of the room so fast she didn’t even have time for another ‘goon’ joke. After the last man left, Smith slid off the stool and approached Angel. She tried to calm her pounding pulse. He looked so laid back; surely he couldn’t see it. She inhaled a slow, calming breath and lifted her chin. He stood in front of her, so close she could smell his expensive aftershave. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, very distinguished, almost elegant. If she hadn’t realized what was buried deep inside of him, she might be attracted to him. But she wasn’t. Knowing what he was, and having him stand so close to her, made her want to vomit. “Feel better, my Angel?” he asked as he lifted his hand. Shit, he was going to touch her. “I said no touching the merchandise until it’s sold. So far, I haven’t heard anything to convince me to complete the sale.” He dropped his arm. She could see his irritation in the tightening of his lips, the furrowing of his brow. “Did you bring the video?” She dug into her purse. “Yep, here you go, with the original evidence log.” “How do I know you didn’t copy it?” She flipped the video to show him the side. “See this empty spot here. It’s the record tab. When it’s removed, the video can’t be recorded over or copied. It’s done for law enforcement purposes. The log shows the tab was broken off on scene after collection and this,” she rotated the video to the back where she pointed to a number stamped into the plastic, “is the original manufacture stamp given to the security tape when manufactured. It can only be used once, and only for surveillance. You’ll see the evidence log notes this number.” God she hoped he was buying her load of shit. She had to admit it sounded good, but it was an absolute lie. With two VCR’s a recording of the video could be made, and that’s what she had done. After that, Frank’s team had stamped that number into the video. She had to admit, it looked very authentic. “Very good, Angel.” She turned her hand over and passed off the video. “I’m here to please,” she quipped. “Yes, and I’m very pleased.” His sensual drawl didn’t fool her. He was deep down evil; she sensed it to her toes. “Let’s talk terms. I’ve given you what you want, now you tell me about this little operation.” He inclined his head and led her to the couch. Grabbing a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice, he poured two glasses, then handed her one. “Not so fast, darling. I’ll need to search you first.”

Her heart skipped, then kicked back into its normal rhythm. She set down her champagne, stood and held out her arms. “Search away.” He placed his glass on the table, and moved toward her. Slowly and thoroughly he ran his hands over her body. It was more a detailed groping than a search. She realized quickly what he was doing. He wanted to see how she would react. His hands traveled over her ass, squeezing, kneading. He continued to feel, running his hands over her ribs he cupped her breasts. “You’re pushing it, Smith. You give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want. I’m not free,” she tried to make her voice sound sultry, sexy. Thinking of Zeik, she dropped her gaze to half-mast and pictured Zeik going down on her, the excitement of his hands on her body, the thrill of his lips sucking on her. “But once I’m bought, I’m very, very easy,” she purred. Smith’s hands stopped. She could see his erection pushing against the front his slacks. “Now you’ve got me by the balls, Angel.” “Well, I hope to have you there … with my mouth, if I like what I hear.” He slowly smiled and motioned for her to sit. Crossing her legs, she picked up her champagne and sipped, trying to seem casual, relaxed, two emotions she did not feel. Smith sat down, pressing against her. He trailed a finger down her shoulder. She tried not to shiver in disgust. “This operation is run by one of the top supporters of Al-Qaida in the Unites States. We distribute information and goods for them and they in turn pay us. It’s really that simple. My operation is a front. Makes it difficult for them to get through me to him. You see, I’m very good at what I do. It’s a lucrative job.” He leaned in and kissed her neck. She dropped her head back and gave a fake moan. “Who runs the operation?” she asked as she tried not to flinch when he dropped her spaghetti strap off her shoulder and began to peel it down, coming very close to revealing her breast. “Ahem Ahi Al Shamir. One of the most wanted and known terrorists in Kuwait. Only he isn’t in Kuwait. Those idiots have no idea.” He was bragging now, feeling confident she was turning sides. At this point, she could probably get him to say anything. “So what’s the plan?” She was going to push a little farther, see what she could get. Despite the fact Frank said get out as soon as she revealed the ringleader, she wanted as much information as she could seduce out of Smith. She tried not to stiffen up when he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, trailing his lips over the slope. She could feel his desire shimmering underneath that evil façade. If she didn’t get out pretty soon, his hands would be everywhere. Her suspicions were confirmed when he ran his hand down her side to her ass. He roughly hauled her against him. She could feel every inch of him. “The plan, my beautiful Angel … besides burying my cock in you so deep you won’t know one end from another, is take over this free Unites States of ours with the proper Islamic extremist leadership. And I’d like to have you there with me, as my … well let’s just say my assistant,” he whispered as he slid his tongue along her jaw. His answer made her heart drop to her feet. He was in deep, and she was right there with him. He was much more dangerous than she thought. Fooling with terrorists at that level, the highest

you could get, was beyond petty theft—it was terrorism, pure and simple. Finally, he settled his lips on hers and kissed her passionately. She tried to respond, tried to drum up some believable sex appeal. She was saved from any further acting when she heard Frank’s voice over her COM, “Angel, we’re coming in.” A high pitch squeal made her automatically cringe and raise her hand to ear in pain. Oh shit, feedback, she thought. Smith went stone cold still. His eyes met hers. She was in trouble. **** Zeik thought his head was going to explode the minute Smith began pawing on Angel. As soon as Smith dismissed those other men, his worry elevated. Sweat was dripping down his neck; his heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it in his temples. “Frank, we need to pull her out of there.” Frank sat at the control, watching the monitor, and listening intently to the conversation between Smith and Angel. “Zeik, settle down. She’s going to get it. Give her a minute.” “You’re pushing it, Smith…” Zeik sat down next to Frank and picked up the conversation. “…very, very, easy…” “Oh my God, that’s it—,” Zeik picked up his MP-5 Assault Rifle and slipped it over his head, positioning the weapon for easy access. “Zeik, stop, she’s close… Come on Angel, do your thing … make him talk.” Frank’s commanding voice stopped him. “This operation is run by…” Copying down notes, Frank listened attentively. Zeik rose and poised at the door of the truck, ready to run as soon as he got the signal. “Shit, shit.” Frank hit a red button on the panel “What’s the matter?” “There’s a satellite on top of the building. It’s giving me some problems. Shit.” Zeik didn’t recall Frank being a swearer. Something must be really going very wrong. “We’re coming in Angel,” Frank said. “Go Zeik, she just got hit with a dose of feedback. I think Smith picked up on it. I’ll call in the rest of the crew. Go!” he yelled. Zeik didn’t wait for any further prompting. He raced out of the vehicle and charged toward the building. He could hear a stampede behind him. He didn’t hesitate. In his headset, he could hear Frank calling in all teams. All he could think about was his Angel, stuck in a room with a killer. **** Angel choked as Smith immediately grabbed her by the neck and squeezed. “What do we have here?” He rotated her chin to the side, lifted up her hair and poked at the COM seated in her ear. She didn’t respond, she couldn’t, he was slowly constricting the air she so badly needed. She wheezed; black spots were floating in front

of her eyes. He was incredibly strong, a big man; his single hand spanned the width of her neck. “Oh Angel, I’m very disappointed in you.” She could hear the anger in his voice, his fingers tightening on her throat. She fought, brought her hand up to grab his fingers and tried to loosen his hold. “Stop,” she begged. God, she hoped Frank’s team would get there soon. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. “I don’t think so. I’m going to show you what the nation of Islam terrorists instructs us to do with traitors.” He forced her down to the couch. She kicked her feet, struggling for air. She clutched at his hand. He was manacled onto her neck like a leech; her puny attempts to fight weren’t even making an impact. She never expected to be so docile when someone was trying to choke her out, but she was lightheaded from the lack of air. She was mad she couldn’t fight harder. She was lucky to pry one finger off her neck. She was going to die. Suddenly, she heard a crunch noise and the door slammed open. Zeik was there, her savior, his assault rifle pointed directly at Smith. “FBI, Smith. Let go of her. Now or I’ll kill you, I swear it.” Smith’s fingers dropped from her neck as he released her. Angel took a gasping breath, trying to suck in as much air as she could at once. Everything began moving in slow motion. Smith turned and at the same time drew a gun from under his jacket, pointing it at Zeik. She jumped forward and shoved Smith’s arm, causing his shot to go wild, missing Zeik. “Don’t shoot, Zeik, don’t shoot him,” she wheezed out as she wrestled Smith to the ground, kicking his gun from him. Zeik rushed forward and took over for her. Grabbing Smith by the front, he punched him in the face, once, twice, a third time; she could hear the crunch of bones. “Zeik, stop,” she yelled as she tried to grab his arm, he had that wild-eyed look, the one you see in the movies before the bad guy annihilates his victim. She knew Zeik wanted to kill Smith. Smith’s head lolled to the side. He was out. Frank ran in and from behind locked his arms around Zeik, dragging him off Smith. “That’s enough Z. We need him. Back off.” Zeik fought him, trying to pull out of his hold. He swore at Frank. Angel went to him. “Zeik, stop.” She reached forward and touched his face, trying to get him back in the now. “Zeik, look at me.” Finally his eyes went from the bloody broken body of Smith to her. “Stop. I’m okay. Stop,” she pled, then she coughed at the strain it brought to her throat. He froze. Frank’s arms fell away as he moved around Zeik to Smith. “I’m okay.” The croaking sound of her voice caused her to massage her throat. “I’m okay,” she whispered as her knees gave out and she sank to the floor. “Angel.” Zeik was immediately there, lifting her into his arms. “I’m okay.” The magnitude of the situation finally hit her. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the wetness drip down her cheeks. “Take me home.” “Okay, baby. Let’s get you over to the paramedics, have you checked out. Okay?” The worry was there, in the strangled sound of his voice.

“Okay.” As he carried her out of the room, she rested her head against his chest. On their way down, she saw Cross, Safron and Butch, cuffed and being hauled off by NSA Agents. They aren’t going to see the light of day for a long time, she thought. It was over, finally done. She sighed in relief. “I love you,” she said as she kissed Zeik’s jaw. “Oh baby,” Zeik softly kissed her back. “I love you too.” She stroked his cheek, then ran her hand into his soft hair. “Take me home and make love to me.” “My pleasure, my Angel.” “Angel.” Her father’s voice penetrated her consciousness. She slowly drew her hand out of Zeik’s hair and made eye contact with her father. “Are you okay?” he asked as he approached. “I’m okay, Daddy. Just a little roughed up. I’ll be fine.” Her father didn’t say anything, he just stood there and eyed the two of them. He had to have figured out what was going on. He couldn’t have missed that kiss. Finally, he pointed to Zeik. “We’ll talk about this later, Agent Carlos.” Zeik nodded, “Yes sir.” Zeik left her father standing in the doorway as he continued to carry her to the ambulance standing by outside. He gently transferred Angel into the arms of the paramedic who set her down on the gurney in back. Zeik hopped up inside and squatted down next to the tech. Twenty minutes later, Zeik helped her down. Her father was waiting. Folding her into his arms, he hugged her hard. “You okay, baby girl?” he asked as he stroked her back. There was something about being in your father’s arms after a traumatic event that made you want to cry. “I’m okay, just need to pamper my throat for the next couple days, other than that— the tech told me I’d be fine.” “Can I take you home?” he asked as he pulled back. “No thanks.” She reached out and drew Zeik’s hand into hers. “Z, will take me home.” Her father drew in a breath like he was going to say something. He must have swallowed it because he remained quiet. She gave him a final quick hug, and she walked away with the man she loved. “I hope he doesn’t give you a hard time,” she said as Zeik helped her into his car. He went around and slid into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, well, doesn’t matter to me. He can fire me for all I care.” She sucked in a surprised gasp. “Zeik, he’s not going to fire you.” “I hope not. I kind of like my job…” He smiled at her as he maneuvered out of the parking lot. “Look at the women I get to meet.” He winked at her after his last statement. She laughed and linked her hand to his free one. “There’s that.” “Exactly,” he concluded. “You happy this is over?” he asked. “Words can’t express how happy.”

“Good. Here’s to moving on.” He raised his hand like he had a wine glass in it. “I’ll toast to that.” She tapped her imaginary glass against his fingers.

Chapter Fifteen ‘Beep, Beep, Beep.’ Zeik groaned and reached up to shut off his beeper. Near three a.m., must be important, he thought as he squinted at the clock. Angel moaned from where she was plastered on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and stroked her hair. God, it felt good to have her against him. He didn’t even want to think about what she had been through just seven hours before. When he burst into that room and saw Smith with his fingers wrapped around Angel’s throat … he didn’t know what kept him from pulling the trigger, right then and there. Somehow he maintained his cool. Of course, that didn’t apply to beating the shit out of him. There was a certain satisfaction in messing up Smith’s face. “What is it?” Angel murmured, her breath puffing out against his nipple. He immediately went hard. “It’s Jim, 911, squad page. Shit, hope it’s not a SWAT callout. That would suck.” “Humm, speaking of suck.” She pushed the blankets low on his hips and kept going until she had uncovered his wake-up erection. “Maybe, I should get to work on that for you,” she said as her lips traveled down his body. His head went blank as he watched her move down. “Hold that thought,” he said as he remembered his purpose. He reached up and grabbed his cellular phone off the nightstand. She laughed and stopped. Laying her head back onto his chest, she closed her eyes. “I was teasing.” “Teasing nothing, I’m going to hold you to that promise,” he joked back. She laughed and cuddled into his chest as he dialed Jim’s cellular number. “Hey, what’s going on buddy?” “Dude, you need to get to the hospital, ASAP.” The urgency in Jim’s voice made his heart clench in fear. Zeik moved to sit up. Angel rose up with him. She must have sensed his concern. “What’s going on?” He slipped his legs off the bed and grabbed for his pants. When Jim said he needed to go somewhere fast, he always followed orders. “It’s Jo. She’s having the baby. There are complications. Troy called me a few minutes ago. They’ve moved her into surgery. Shit, Dude, I don’t know.” Jim sounded frazzled. “Okay, Jim. I’ll be right there.” “Thanks, Dude.” He hung up as he reached for his shirt. Jo, shit, he didn’t know what to do … his fingers froze. What was he going to do if something happened to her? She was more than just a boss, she was one of his best friends. She had trained him from the moment he was a new agent out of Quantico. Angel was up with him now, reaching for her clothes. “What’s the matter?” she asked as she dressed. “Angel, it’s Jo. She’s having problems with her pregnancy. She’s at the hospital. We have to… Shit…” He lost his remaining thoughts. He couldn’t even get his shoes tied.

“Okay, babe.” She gently pushed him so he sat on bed. She took over. She buttoned his shirt and worked on tying his sneakers. “I’m here for you. Let me help. She’s going to be okay. I’ll drive us to the hospital.” Zeik let out a relieved breath. She stroked his cheek. He looked into her eyes. This was his woman and he wanted her forever. She leaned down and finished tying his shoes. “Okay, thanks I’m a little zapped on this one. Thanks for taking over. When this is finished, can we talk about getting married?” She stopped tying his shoes for a millisecond. Then with a sigh, she began again until she was done. When she glanced up, there were tears in her eyes. She leaned in, gave him a quick kiss and pulled him up off the bed. “Sure, let’s talk about getting married, later.” She gave a soft chuckle and linked their fingers. “Right now, let’s worry about getting you to the hospital.” When they arrived Zeik went straight to the ER waiting room. The entire squad was there, Sandy, Lion and his wife, and little girl, Justine, who they were all uncles and aunts to. Jim, and Jack Farin, with his wife. They all seemed as worried as he felt. Troy was sitting, his head resting between his hands. The tension in the room was so thick, you couldn’t slice it with a machete. “Hey guys.” Angel’s hand in his, Zeik trailed in. “Hey,” Troy said, his face full of anguish, eyes bloodshot, and hair mussed. He must have been up all night. Zeik sat down next to Troy. Angel released his hand and went to talk to her parents. “What do we have here?” he asked as he draped his arm over Troy’s shoulder. “She started bleeding, last night around eight. I immediately brought her here. They gave her some medication to keep her from going into labor. We still have four weeks to go. We thought it would work. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. They took her in about twenty minutes ago, maybe an emergency c-section, they’re not sure. It’s too early. If anything happens to her or the baby—Oh God…” his voice trailed off. He buried his face into his hands and Zeik watched one of the strongest men he knew cry. In a touching moment Zeik would never forget, Lion’s daughter, Justine, walked over and placed her hands on the top of Troy’s head. “It will be okay Uncle Troy, Jo is strong. She’s the toughest girl I know. She will be fine. Be strong for her Uncle Troy, she would want that.” Tears running down his face, Troy glanced up at her words. Then he lifted Justine and took her into his arms, resting his head on her tiny shoulder. He stroked her hair. “I will, I’ll be strong for her, baby. Thank you. Thank you for reminding me.” His anguish made his voice break. Zeik was amazed when Kally Voker flew into the waiting room. She was one of Jo’s closest friends and was recently married to a detective in Boise, Idaho. Her husband, Gabe Blackhawk, followed behind her. Zeik was happy to see them, even in this horrible situation. Their worry was clear; the strained expression and red eyes of Kally told the story. She was slightly pregnant herself, her rounded tummy covered by a chic maternity smock. She is beautiful, Zeik thought. Always has been, and always will be. She was one of those women who glowed, even without the pregnancy. “Troy.” She rushed over and hugged both Troy and Justine.

“Hi, Aunt Kally. I was just telling Uncle Troy, Jo is going to be good and he should be strong.” Kally nodded to Justine and gently touched Troy’s hair. Tears pooled in her eyes. “Thanks for coming, Kally.” “We came as soon as we could. Any news?” Gabe placed a single hand on Troy’s shoulder. Troy shook his head. Gabe nodded. “Zeik,” Kally turned and transferred her hug to him. “Hey there married girl, how’s the old man treating you?” She smiled slightly and turned to link her hands with Gabe’s. Their bond was almost a physical being. Zeik could see the strength of their love in the simple touching of their fingers. “He’s taking good care of me.” She gently caressed her stomach. “Good, glad to hear it.” He smiled at Gabe. Kally sat on the other side of Troy, her shoulder touching his. Their support was the only sentiment they could give right now. Gabe positioned himself next to Kally. Angel came over and sat next to Zeik. She linked their hands. He smiled and kissed her on the cheek, grateful for her support. He didn’t know what he had ever done before he met her. The danger of the last few days only solidified his need to make her his. He made eye contact with Jack, who with a single nod alleviated all Zeik’s concerns about dating his daughter. There was a silent understanding in that nod, one that said, as long as you take care of my little girl, we’re okay. The waiting was like slow torture. They all took turns fetching coffee and snacks. Everyone needed something to do, to keep busy and their minds off Jo. On one of the waiting room loungers, Lion cradled a sleeping Justine in his arms. Zeik stared at them. They were so odd this burly man, his beautiful delicate wife and such an angel of a child. He hoped someday to be cradling his own child in his arms. He glanced at Angel with her head leaning against his shoulder. He squeezed her hand. She gave him a sleepy smile. They had been in the waiting room for nearly three hours now. The excitement of the previous day was coming down on them. A member of the hospital staff walked into the waiting room. He appeared as tired as they all felt. Troy was up first, rushing toward him. They all slowly followed, creating a loose circle around the man. “Mr. Vinstonie? “Yes.” “I’m Dr. Roberts. You’re wife is out of surgery. We did an emergency c-section, just to make sure because the baby was turned and we couldn’t get it rotated. She’s doing well. The baby is fine, a little small but he’s healthy, doing wonderful, absolutely no complications. He’s with your wife right now. Congratulations.” The Doctor held out his hand. Troy dropped his head down and took in a huge shuddering breath. When he looked up, the tears from earlier were trekking down his face. He pumped the doctors hand with his own. “Thank you, Doctor, thank you. When can I see them?” The Doctor smiled. “Well usually I would say only you and only for a few minutes, but your wife insists she see the ‘entire squad’. So I’m going to let you all in, but only for a few minutes.”

“Thanks.” Troy nodded to the group, “Let’s go congratulate my wife.” He was smiling from ear to ear. Zeik stepped up and clasped him in a quick hug. “Congrats man.” Everyone else followed suit, backslapping, hugging and even some more crying. Took them a good five minutes to make their way to Jo’s room. Troy went first. They all fell in behind him and crowded around the hospital bed. There sat Jo with a small sleeping bundle wrapped in her arms, looking tired, her hair plastered back, dark circles under her eyes, but she had a smile on her face, and a glow that Zeik had never seen before on his tough boss. “Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, babe.” They all hung back as Troy stepped forward. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Look what I got here for you, Daddy. A healthy baby boy.” “I see that.” Troy’s voice was low as he ran a finger down his son’s cheek. Zeik was touched. He clasped Angel’s hand in his own and tried not to tear up. He wasn’t much of a crier, but the scene before him made him want to bawl. “I love you, Jo.” Troy leaned over and kissed her, then he kissed his baby’s cheek, “And I love you, son.” Jo glanced up and surveyed the room. “Hey guys, thanks for coming. As you can see I’m doing just fine. Now, don’t you all have work to do?” Her statement caused a ripple of laugher throughout the room. Each one of them took a quick minute to squeeze Jo’s hand, and just say hi. Zeik stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “Hey there boss, you gave us quite a scare.” “Ahh, well, you know how I like dramatics—not.” He laughed. Her eyes strayed to Angel who was talking to her dad, the room was full of light chatter, no one could hear them. The doctor had already called the five-minute warning for them to all get out. “I hope to God you cleared this little romance you’re obviously having with the daughter of the top cheese.” Zeik followed her gaze to where Angel, Jack and his wife stood. He hadn’t ever been any good at hiding anything from Jo. “I think we reached an understanding. I love her,” he simply said. Then he made eye contract with Jo. He could see the understanding in her expression. “Well, falling in love with the one you’re protecting, I can certainly understand that.” She was talking about Troy now. He grinned and gave her a final kiss. “Yeah, I know you can. We’re going to get out of your hair. I have a marriage proposal to do up properly.” Zeik switched places with Troy and went to gather Angel. The four of them walked out together. “Mom, Dad, we’ll come by tomorrow night for dinner. Okay?” she asked. Jack nodded at her then Zeik. “I’d like that.” Zeik sighed in relief and shook Jack’s hand. “Thank you son, for protecting my baby.” “My pleasure, sir.” “See you tomorrow night then.” “Sounds good.” He drew Angel close and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the car.

“Now about that marriage proposal,” she said as she linked her arm around his waist. “I give you my word I’ll do that with chocolate and roses the next time,” he promised. She stopped and turned him toward her. “Z, I don’t need flowers and roses. What I need is you. Did you mean it?” He leaned forward and linked their lips, taking, sucking. He let the warmth of her hand on his chest and her lips under his, take him away. Withdrawing, he leaned back. “I love you, Angel. I meant it. You tell me yes, when and where, and I’ll be there.” She smiled. He hugged her close and leaned his forehead against hers. “Yes,” she said. “Now, that’s the only word I wanted to hear. Well maybe except take me home and make love to me. I really like that phrase.” She laughed, linked her arm in his and led him down the hall. “How about I take YOU home and make love to YOU?” Zeik’s cock hardened at the implications. “That’s even better.” “I love you, Zeik.” “I love you, too, baby.” “Take you to dinner tonight, spaghetti?” he asked. “Last time we had spaghetti together we ended up taking it to go.” “Riiiight.” He remembered that date fondly and the bath that followed. What a night. “Let’s make a point of staying for at least thirty minutes this time. Try to set a record,” he joked as they walked to the car. “I like that plan.” “Good, it’s a date then … later,” he said drawing her close, pressing his lips to hers. “Later,” she whispered. The End About the Author: Rae Monet writes sensual romance novels for Liquid Silver Books. See her site at www.RaeMonet.com

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