Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry (6 page)

"Well, I'll be damned," Angela muttered, reaching for her phone to try her father again.

The hotel phone next to her bed started ringing.

"What the hell?" she gasped. That phone hadn't rung once since she'd arrived at the Drake. No one knew her room number other than her father, and he would reach her on her cell, not on the room phone.

She stared at the phone sitting next to her bed, watching the small red light glow as it rang a second time. Mario and Evelyn had quit talking. Angela hadn't heard car doors open and close, but the phone ringing might have distracted her.

Angela reached for the phone before it rang a third time. "Hello?"

"Come to room two-twelve."

"What?" Angela whispered, her heart beating harder than it was a few minutes ago. "Who is this?"

"Think back a year ago and I believe you'll remember," a man's voice said.

"What will I remember?" she asked, managing a softer tone and sitting on the edge of the bed. She straightened her legs, looking at her painted toenails as a fluttering began in her stomach and quickly swelled throughout her insides.

"Maybe that you don't really live in Aldea."

Angela smiled, remembering the line she'd told Jake about where she'd lived. A year ago in Mexico seemed like a different world, a different life. Yet she remembered the evening in that nightclub as if it were yesterday. Jake had taken her out to the dance floor and shown off moves that had her imagining he'd be one hell of a good lover. He'd also been very easy to talk to. Within a couple hours she felt as if she'd known him for years. Granted, he didn't know she was a private investigator. His attentiveness and probing nature, the way he watched her and asked questions, had her suspicious more than once that he might be on to her.

It was fairly late in the evening when she'd told him what she knew about Marty Byrd being in Aldea, a small village south of Tijuana. The local girl Angela had been out with that evening, who'd had drinks with her and Jake and his brother, needed to leave shortly after that. Angela had really wanted to stay but knew if she had, she and Jake would have fucked each other. Instead, she'd taken a cab, leaving Jake behind. Jake had taken the information she'd given him and destroyed all evidence of the game and killed Marty Byrd when they had worked with the FBI and blown up Byrd's mansion.

"Room two-twelve," he repeated.

The black box was quiet. Angela ran her fingers through her hair. There was no way she'd go see Jake without showering first.

"Give me half an hour," she said, then hung up before he could argue or, worse yet, hang up on her. Letting out a frustrated moan, Angela headed to the bathroom. Already the throbbing between her legs was growing damn hard to ignore. "Control, girl. Goddamn control or there is no way you can talk to him."

All she had to do was keep their conversation on business. There was plenty to discuss. She needed to let him know there was a mark on his head. Not to mention he was going to explain what he was doing here. They would catch up; then she'd head out for her evening date with Mario. Although the last thing she wanted to do was leave the exciting sexual tension that sizzled between her and Jake to go to a monster who would likely grope and humiliate her all evening long.

Her heart fluttered as she turned on the shower.

Chapter Three

Jake glanced up from the couch when someone knocked gently on his hotel room door. She'd said half an hour, but it had been forty-five minutes. Did Angela primp and prepare herself to come see him?

He stood, stretched, then tugged his shirt and smoothed it out as he headed to the door. Patting his gun, which he'd tucked into the back of his jeans, he leaned forward and looked through the peek hole. He stared at Angela's profile, distorted through the small circular glass. She looked both ways up and down the hallway as if the chance existed she might be followed. It was one of the negative aspects of their line of work: having to be more cautious than most.

He unlocked and turned the handle, then opened the hotel room door. Angela Huxtable stared up at him with defiant green eyes. Her long, thick black hair was damp and the light reflected in it. He breathed in a hint of roses. Angela had showered and cleaned up before coming to see him. Something tightened inside him, and not just his dick. It wasn't a familiar sensation, but he wasn't staring at just another pretty lady. Something about Angela made her stand out, caused her beauty to be more unique and compelling, and created a radiant glow around her that worked like a magnet in drawing him to her. It also had had the strength to keep her in his thoughts for a year.

Angela entered his suite without a word, managing not to touch him as she glided past where he stood, holding the door. She paused in the middle of his room and turned to face him, not bothering to check out her surroundings but instantly snaring him with a hot and determined stare.

"Come on in," he drawled, taking his time closing the door and securing the dead bolt.

"What are you doing here, Jake?"

"Your dad didn't tell you? He hired me. I'm your backup, darling," he informed her, and enjoyed the hell out of her stunned expression. He took advantage of her shock to move closer. "Your father flew out to L.A. and personally hired me to help you out with the game," he added, lowering his voice as he studied her thick black hair.

It fell to the middle of her back, and the sleeveless pink blouse she wore helped offset its color. Her tan skin, green eyes, and slender figure with curves in all the right places made her a vision of beauty. But the hard, focused glare she gave him, beaming with intelligence and her willful nature, created an image of perfection he ached to know better--a lot better.

Angela didn't balk when he stopped close enough to reach out and grab a strand of her hair.

"My father hired you?" She didn't change her pose but continued staring at him, hands on her hips as she pressed her lips together in a thin line.

Jake let go of her hair and tried gripping her shoulders. Angela turned, walking to the window that faced the street below.

"Sit, Angela," he suggested, pulling out the chair he was going to guide her into before she slipped out of his grasp. "Bring me up to speed on what you've been doing here."

Angela wore blue-jean shorts that hugged her tight, round ass and ended just as that perfect curve met her leg. It was one of his favorite parts of a woman's body, the tender flesh on the backside and inner thighs, right at the top of her legs. They were legs he bet would squeeze the life out of a man as she came. He might have to fuck her just so he could work with her. Just standing in the same room, watching her ass in those short shorts, was proving to be one hell of a distraction.

She turned, staring warily at the chair he'd pulled out from the desk. "You sit," she instructed, her voice clipped. She continued flexing her hands into fists, then relaxing them.

Angela no longer looked him in the face. Her gaze would slip down his body; then as soon as he focused on her, she'd shoot her attention across the room. As if he wouldn't notice her checking him out. Hell, he would know how closely she scrutinized him with his eyes closed. The charge of energy in the air hadn't been there before she'd entered his suite.

Jake had guessed it when he'd captured her attention in the lobby. Neither of them had expected to see the other at that moment. What they got from each other wasn't guarded or covered up but raw, unleashed carnal desire. Sexual tension between two people wasn't usually so strong it charged the air between them at such a distance. Now, however, with not even a few paces between them, and the smell of her perfume and clean body wrapping around him and proving to be the strongest aphrodisiac he'd ever experienced, it was nice knowing he didn't suffer alone. Angela was fighting to maintain control.

"I don't mind sitting." Jake relaxed in the chair, straightening his legs, as he crossed one socked foot over the other. He would put her at ease, although he seriously doubted he'd be able to relieve the sexual tension. Jake wasn't a rapist, though. Not that she appeared overly worried about him attacking her. She put on a show of being pissed but Angela wanted to fuck him.

"My father made a mistake," she said flatly. "We can't work together, Jake."

He held her stare captive, probing into her milky green eyes, seeing emotions tumble over one another behind her mask of determination. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but he wouldn't insult her. The reason why was incredibly obvious. It was charging the entire damned room and making his cock ache to stretch and swell.

"I think we can make it work." He spoke slowly, still staring into her eyes.

When she inhaled, the bra underneath her sleeveless sweater pressed against her breasts. Her V-neck collar allowed a glimpse of her cleavage. He let his attention drop to the view. Her skin color was as appealing as the rest of her, tanned but not quite caramel. She wasn't dressed to show off her features, but nonetheless they were easy to notice. It would be damn hard for Angela to be completely inconspicuous.

"We'll see." She took her time looking away from him. Angela wasn't shy. Her straightforwardness was as appealing as her bedroom eyes and every last soft curve on her incredibly enticing body. "First things first." She walked behind his chair, then came around him on the other side. "You're going to tell me what my father said you'd be doing while you're here. And know, whatever it was, I'm in charge here. This is my case."

Jake dropped his attention to the slender curves that sloped into her narrow waist. "Bossy bitch," he grumbled, and fought a smile when her jaw dropped.

"How dare you," she hissed. "Good grief!" She threw her hands in the air and spun around, causing her thick, long hair to fan across her back. "I knew it. This isn't going to work. There's no point in even trying. I'll explain to my dad. I don't need, or want, the type of backup you would offer. I need someone capable of focusing only on the case. I seriously doubt you'd be able to do that."

"The type of backup I would offer?" Jake understood her meaning. "This is your show, sweetheart. I'll do what you want." And he'd protect her. Again, he wouldn't insult her by stating the obvious. Angela knew he'd guard her with his life, as her dad had obviously known as well. Jake held his arms out, palms up, as he looked up at her, keeping his expression relaxed. "I'm offering my services. Use me as you see fit."

"I know damn good and well what you're offering," she sneered.

Jake watched her, deciding he would let her form her own conclusions and not sway them with responses she would choose to believe, or not, no matter how truthful they might be. And the facts were, if she didn't want to fuck him, he wouldn't press the matter. That had never been his style. Jake knew women, though. Angela was making a scene to cover up her own desires. Raging need damn near burned her alive. He saw the flush slowly spread across her face as she shot him fiery glances.

"Are you going to deny you're undressing me with your eyes?" She stopped in front of him, pressing her hands into her hips, and glared at him.

If he stood, he'd be head and shoulders taller than Angela. She was already on the defensive and he wasn't going to push her into a corner. So instead, checking his slight irritation, he stretched out his legs, forcing her to jump to the side so she wouldn't trip over them.

"You say I'm hands-on. I'm sure you know all there is to know about me, darling." He didn't speak too slowly, kept his voice flat, and only stared at her face as he spoke. Already, from what he knew of this case, Angela needed him. Jake doubted her father would be able to handle things if they got messy. Possibly Huxtable had reasoned that one out already. "According to your father, you were very aware of me, and my reputation, when we danced the night away in Tijuana."

"I gave you critical information and you proceeded to blow all evidence to hell and back," she accused.

"The FBI blew our evidence up, sweetheart. Our hands were rather tied with that matter." Jake had been falsely accused of worse. He smiled. "I'm sure if your father were kidnapped by an assassin you would have done the same."

She stared at him, her expression remaining chilled and tense. "And if things get out of control here, would you call the FBI once again?"

Jake stood, forgetting his effort to help Angela relax. She tilted her head back, staring up at him when he spoke.

"If a madman who prefers his women doped up on slave juice captured you, put your life in serious danger, and I wasn't able to get you out, you're damn fucking straight I would call in whatever authorities could help."

She searched his face, pressing her lips into an adorable pout before slowly looking down. Her gaze traveled down his chest and fire erupted inside him. She'd just pissed him off and he still wanted her. Angela might be right. Maybe they shouldn't work together.

"I heard your father was abducted in Mexico, but rumors suggest he allowed himself to be captured to get on the inside." She began pacing the length of the hotel room and continued shooting Jake hesitant looks. "That's what I've done, Jake. I'm on the inside, but not at the risk of slave juice being stabbed into my arm."

"Because you're getting cozy with some Italian warlord you think you're exempt from his slave juice?" he snapped. Jake was having trouble keeping his emotions in check around her, which bugged him.

"I don't know what you know about Mario Mandela, but let me tell you, he's not an idiot. Right now, my cover is secure. Mario knows I'm high profile because of the circles he believes I move in. He is under the impression my schedule is very full and I'm often in the public eye. If I strayed from my hectic schedule for even an hour, I would be missed. He won't risk the game and all it means to him just for me. Women don't mean that much to him. He is smart, though, and I'm covering my ass."

"I'm going to help cover that ass of yours."

When she tilted her head slightly and pierced him with those sexy eyes of hers, several strands of hair fell over her shoulder and drifted across her arm and breast. "I'm not sure you're the best man for the job," she mused, her voice suddenly soft-spoken, as if she was contemplating something pleasant, instead of deciding if she could handle having him up close and personal without getting too close.

"Why would your father think otherwise?" Jake asked. His fingers itched to pet her thick, black hair. It would be so smooth and silky. Her probing stare captivated him just as much as the rest of her did. When Angela met his gaze, staring hard and straight into his eyes, it was as if she saw past the surface and analyzed and discovered everything about him. As unnerving as the thought was that she might be able to see more of him than he wanted her to see, at the same time it was somehow erotic that Angela wanted to dig and learn more about him.

"I'm not sure." Her hard lines of anger began fading. "Sounds like he and I need to talk about this."

"Tell me about Mario." Jake wanted her talking, opening up to him. They weren't going to throw in the towel on this case over sexual desires. He was starting to think wanting each other might make them a good team. "How close have you gotten to him?"

"He took me shopping today." She looked mighty proud of herself.

"You move fast, sweetheart," Jake drawled. "When did you two meet for the first time?"

Her grin was wicked. "We met over the weekend at his private club I managed to get myself into, then seated myself conveniently under his nose."

"Sounds like I missed the good stuff."

"There isn't any good stuff with this case," she added quickly, her smile fading. "I'm under the impression he wasn't in town prior to that. I've overheard several of his phone calls, and although he was vague, I think he just arrived in Chicago. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been gathering his army." Her voice trailed off.

Jake got her meaning, though. Mandela was kidnapping people, just as his parents had been kidnapped earlier that year. Right before coming here, he and his cousin, Natasha, had learned that the drug Evelyn Van Cooper had developed, and used on his family when they had been in Arizona, was now being called slave juice. It wouldn't surprise him if Mandela might be using that drug, too.

"So tell me about Mario Mandela. What makes the man tick?" It bugged him that Angela was able to overhear Mandela's phone conversations. It had been his experience that when a perp let someone get close, they had ulterior motives. He kept his thoughts to himself for now, wanting to hear all Angela knew before drawing any hard conclusions.

"He's an evil bastard." She shivered and hugged herself, wrinkling her nose as she shook her head. "I've never been this close to someone so evil, so heartless, and so sure of themselves that they are doing the right thing. He has no conscience."

"He couldn't to be part of the game."

"Point taken," she said easily, shaking her finger at Jake. "I have successfully bugged the back of his limousine."

Jake was impressed. When she studied his face for a moment, then grinned, her expression lit up. "I've already got track running upstairs in my room," she offered, looking really proud of herself.

"You've got the ball rolling beautifully, darling," he praised her. "I'm seriously impressed."

Angela must have realized she'd relaxed too much, was actually enjoying having a conversation with him, and apparently decided she wasn't ready to let her guard down with him yet. That warm look disappeared and she pressed her lips together.