Angel in the Shadows

ANGEL IN THE SHADOWS

AMY DEASON

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

ANGEL IN THE SHADOWS

Copyright©2015

AMY DEASON

Cover Design by Melody A. Pond

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-61935-
877-5

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

It has always been my dream to become an author

and write those interesting, detailed stories

that others want to read and enjoy.

It took some time and patience to turn my dream

into a reality.

And that was not just from me.

With that in mind, I would like to dedicate this book

to my family and friends that continue to inspire

and support me in my everyday life

as well as in the wild, crazy,

and sometimes terrifying world of my imagination.

I love you all.

Acknowledgements

I could try and thank every person individually that has helped me with this book in one way or another but it would be quite a bit longer than the book I’m afraid. So to make it simple, I want to thank my family and friends, those special and incredible people in my life that supported me in my dreams and never allowed me to give up. I would have never made it this far without you. It couldn’t have been easy to put up with me at times but somehow you all managed. Thank you.

I would also like to thank my editor, Debby Gilbert at Soul Mate Publishing, for taking a chance on me and allowing my dreams to take flight. To say that having this chance means a lot would be a total understatement. Thank you so much.

And lastly, I want to give a special thanks to one person that has always been there with me, through thick and thin, the good times and the bad, the ups and downs. She never let me quit even when I really thought I wanted to. She listened to my gripes, my complaints, and my ideas with the perfect measure of composure and advice. And on top of all of that, she led me to my soul mate. For all of this and so much more, I can never thank her enough. So hopefully this will do. From the bottom of my heart, thank you T.C.O.D.M. If all else fails, we can always go to Mars together.

Chapter 1

“Die, die, die,” Madison Sinclair chanted in a low but fierce voice.

She had never considered herself a violent person but at this very moment, the thoughts of murder in cold blood filled her head like never before.

She glared irritably at the computer screen in front of her and resisted the urge to throw the damn thing out of the window and dance for joy as it shattered into a million pieces onto the street below. The only thing saving the evil device from an untimely and rather messy demise was that it did not belong to her but to her bosses. And the last thing she needed to do was lose her job over the death of an inanimate object. No matter how much it deserved it.

Manhattan Professional Imaging, better known to the New York natives as M.P.I., was located on the tenth floor of the Hamilton Building in downtown Manhattan. Mostly catering to corporate offices, fundraisers, various city events, and travel guides, it was a large and successful company and Madison knew she was very lucky to have landed this job six months ago. In fact, she was eternally grateful to her best friend, Robert, for mentioning her name in the right circles so she would be given a chance. There were few things she enjoyed more than taking photographs. Sure, they were mostly of buildings and offices but once in a while, she could catch a special moment that would make all the mundane photos worthwhile. Like a picture of a little girl with her father exploring Central Park for the first time, their eyes wide with amazement and delight. Or capturing the excitement as a young man asks the love of his life to marry him in some softly lit Italian restaurant.

Behind the lens of a camera, she knew exactly what to do and when to do it, but put her in front of a computer screen and she was at a complete loss. Well, maybe not a complete loss. A few times, she had managed to get the annoying things to beep and screech at her, its tinny voice probably cussing her in its own language. A language that was as foreign to her as if she were on an alien planet. Instead of making things easier, computers had only proved to make her life more frustrating and arduous. And she was almost positive computers were actual living things, they might be laughing at her for her o
bvious incompetence.

The last thirty minutes seemed to drag out as she tried everything she could think of to make the devilish piece of equipment in front of her work. She started off being sweet, coaxing and pleading with it to work with her and when that didn’t work, she resorted to cussing and threats of violence. The monitor just sat calmly, daring her to do her worst. For fear that she finally would commit electronic assassination, she spun around in her soft leather chair and raked her fingers through her long, blond hair. Releasing a drawn-out sigh, she gazed out at the city through the large plate-glass window of her office.

A lot of people complained about New York being too cold, too dirty, too crime-ridden. But she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. While she couldn’t argue that the temperatures could reach below zero or that parts of the city had definitely seen cleaner days, she was sure that the crime rate was no worse than other cities near its same size. She loved all seasons in New York but by December, the hot city air had disappeared and was replaced with cool breezes with enough bite to be refreshing yet cold enough to cause the most ardent tourist to flee the city in search of warmer climates.

No longer feeling the rise of violence within her, she turned around, took a deep breath, and placed her fingers on the computer keys, hoping for a miracle.

“There you are.”

Startled, Madison looked up to see Robert standing in the open doorway. Tall, with short blond hair, green eyes, and classic good looks, Robert Sutton could have just about any woman he wanted. And he usually did.

“Here I am,” she replied smoothly, welcoming the temporary distraction. Leaning back from the computer, she turned to face him as he strolled over to her desk, a wide grin on his face. In his left hand he carried a shoe box and in his right, a long, gray garment bag. “What have you got there?”

Instead of answering, Robert sat the box on her desk and settled himself on the corner beside it. With a charming grin that seemed to work on every female save herself, he asked, “Remember Felicia?”

“The redhead on the sixth floor, from the attorney’s office?” She had seen her several times over the last five months. Felicia was everything she wasn’t—cute, petite, and stylishly dressed.

Her own size-seven, sometimes size-eight, frame was never going to be considered petite by any stretch of the imagination.

“Yep, that one. She just agreed to meet me for dinner and drinks after work,” Robert replied, an extremely male smirk playing on his lips, one that Madison knew all too well. One that usually led to uninvited and rather intimate details the next day.

“Well, congratulations on your latest soon-to-be conquest,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “That didn’t take long.”

“Awww, don’t think of it as a conquest, think of it as . . . okay, you’re right. I can’t help it. I like women and she is definitely my type.” He laughed, lifting his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

Madison laughed, rolling her eyes. “
Every
woman is your type.”

Robert feigned shock and indignation so well anyone else might have believed that she had actually offended him. “That’s not true. I do have some standards. True, there aren’t many but they
do
exist.”

Smiling, she turned her attention back to the bag. “So, what do you have in there?”

Not bothering to answer, Robert stood up and unzipped it, revealing a soft, black lacy dress.

“A dress?” Madison exclaimed. “I’ve never known you to buy a dress for a woman, especially on the first date.” Actually the first date was usually the beginning of the end with Robert. He was a man who liked constant variety and in the year she had known him, he had never been with the same woman for more than a month. But he was her best friend and she loved him, whoring ways and all.

“Don’t be silly. You know me better than that. Actually, it’s for you,” he finished, flashing his most cunning smile. One that made suspicion slither inside her belly like a snake.

Madison blinked, looking at Robert like he had gone mad. “For me? What on earth are you talking about?”

Shrugging his wide shoulders, he tipped his head nonchalantly. “I just figured that since you were going to a party tonight, you would need something nice to wear. So, being the good friend that I am, I picked something out for you. Here, take it,” he said, handing the dress over.

Standing up from behind her desk, Madison took the bag tentatively, as though it might bite, glancing at him with mistrust.

“Okay, wait a minute, my
good
friend, what party?”

“You’ve heard of Vance Goldston, right?” Robert asked, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“The business tycoon? Isn’t he involved in computers or something?” she asked distractedly, mesmerized by the garment. The sleeveless, knee-length dress was beautiful and incredibly soft. Running her fingers over it, she knew it was something she could never afford to buy for herself.

“Computers, diet pills, etcetera, etcetera. Anyway, I’m supposed to cover some big charity event at his house on Staten Island tonight but . . .” He trailed off with another careless shrug.

With a start, she instantly understood where this was going. And she didn’t like it one bit. “Oh, I get it. You have a job to do but you made plans with Little Miss Redhead,” Madison surmised. “So, take her with you. You get the job done and still get lucky. Problem solved.” Placing the dress back into the garment bag with only a little regret, she zipped it up and handed it back to Robert then returned to her desk and began once again trying to get the foul machine in front of her to work.

“You know I can’t do that. How would that look, taking a date on a job with me?

“Well, in that case, no. Sorry I can’t,” Madison replied, tapping every button on the left side of the keyboard.

“Why not? You don’t have anything else to do,” Robert said matter-of-factly.

“You don’t know that,” Madison countered. There was lots of things she had to do. Laundry, make the bed, water the miniature pot of flowers in her living room that she had somehow managed not to kill, yet. And of course, there was Milo, her cat. Last winter, she’d found him wandering around in the snow, starving and alone. There was no way she could have just leave him to fend for himself. Especially in New York where she was sure the death rate of animals far surpassed that of people. Well, maybe . . . But now, a year later, he was a large pile of gray and white fur with a very finicky appetite. “Besides, I’ll probably be right here all night trying to get this damn computer to work.” Trying to disregard Robert and his theories about her activities later, she began punching at the keys. Nothing else had worked so maybe a little violence
was
the ticket.

“Let me see.” Robert stepped over, laying the garment bag on the desk. He grabbed the laptop from her, pulling it toward him. “What are you doing?”

Madison leaned back in her chair with a frustrated sigh. “I’ve been trying to open my folder with all of the pictures I’ve taken this week but no matter what I do, this damn thing refuses to do it.”

“Well you’re doing a piss-poor job.”

“Thanks a lot,” Madison remarked, crossing her arms defensively.

“Welcome,” Robert grunted, his fingers flying over the keyboard, tapping the keys lightly. Miniature photos appeared on the screen like magic and less than a minute later, he placed the memory card in her hand.

“I hate you,” Madison said cheerfully.

Robert grinned broadly. “I know. All done, now no excuses.”

“I still can’t do it.”

“Why not?” Robert asked again, his emerald eyes watching her closely. “And don’t tell me you’ve got plans. I know you. You all but live like a hermit, you never go anywhere and the last time you got laid was what, a year and a half ago?”

“It was ten months ago, thank you very much. And I go out all the time,” Madison protested. That last part wasn’t really the truth. She hadn’t been “out” since she’d ended things with Mitch in February. She rarely thought of Mitchell anymore and when she did, it only brought to light how long it had been since she had been in a relationship. Far from experienced in that area, Madison had not been impressed with Mitch’s lovemaking. Though not a bad lover, he had seemed so preoccupied with his own pleasure that he tended to forget about hers, assuming that she was getting as much out of the relationship as he was. Sadly, that assumption had been far from the truth.

Robert rolled his eyes. “You’re practically a nun. And the occasional trip to the grocery store does not count as going out, Maddie,” he said, using his nickname for her, a name she found ridiculously endearing, although she would never admit that to him.

A big-wig party sounded exciting, but unwilling to give in that easily, she opted for another tactic. “Tom would have a fit if I went in your place.”

The illustrious manager of M.P.I., Tom Childers was an arrogant and sexist man, a modern-day caveman. Tom appreciated hard work and women with low necklines desiring advancement that had no boundaries. Unfortunately, Madison didn’t fit into the bottom half of that equation so he failed to recognize her presence in the top half.

Robert sighed dramatically. “I’ll take care of it. Besides, maybe if Tom saw how good your pictures really are, he might not care that you filled in.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “You know the only way he’s actually going to look at the pictures I take is if I kiss his ass.”

“Or let him kiss yours,” Robert quickly replied, a mischievous smirk on his face.

Madison shot him a black look. “It will be a cold day in hell before that happens.”

Robert laughed, walking around to the front of her desk. “It was just a suggestion. But seriously, you take great pictures and this could be your chance to prove it. Besides, it pays double what you’re getting now and it’s an easy job. Trust me, I’ve been to hundreds of these things. They’re all the same. Rich food, fine wine, soft music. A lot of wealthy people donating money, making themselves feel like they’re doing their part to save the world and rid it of injustice and inequality. Making a difference through their overflowing pocketbooks,” Robert finished sarcastically. Placing both hands palm down on the desk, he leaned in toward her, his handsome face six inches from hers. “Come on, Maddie, you know you want to,” he cajoled in a soft whisper.

Madison sighed in resignation, knowing that in the end, she would go. There was just no use prolonging the inevitable. “All right, All right, I’ll go. But it’s going to cost you.”

“No problem, whatever you want,” Robert replied amiably enough, clearly satisfied.

Madison decided to see just how much he wanted her to fill in for him, naming off his most prized possession. “Your Nikon.”

Robert shoved away from the desk. “My Nikon?” He exclaimed, his finely trimmed eyebrows raised in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding. You know how much that camera costs?”

She did, in fact, know the price of the camera, one she had hoped to one day be able to afford for herself.

“Just think of it this way,” she said with a slow smile, “you won’t have to cancel your date and you’ll still have a job.”

Groaning loudly, Robert stared at her, a parody of on his face. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. If you do this for me tonight, you can
borrow
my camera for tonight and I will contribute to your own Nikon fund. I know you’ve been saving up for a while. But promise me you’ll guard it with your life.”

“I’ll take care of it like it’s my own,” Madison swore, crossing her heart extravagantly.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Robert grumbled.

“Oh, and if I’m going to do this for you, you will have to swing by and feed Milo for me. Tuna fish with mayo and pickle with a side of milk.”