Graham, Jan - Finding Angel [Wylde Shore] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (48 page)

BOOK: Graham, Jan - Finding Angel [Wylde Shore] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)
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“Looks like some bastard bit you,” he joked.

“Must have been one of the men I’m in love with.” Angel giggled in reply.

Christian held Angel until she went back to sleep and then slipped out of bed, donning a pair of pyjama pants and joining Daniel once again in the living room.

“Would it be childish to run across the room and high-five you?” he asked Daniel as he entered the room.

“Probably.” Daniel chuckled. “But I do understand the impulse.”

“I would never have guessed that I would come home to this tonight.” Christian flopped onto the sofa. “So, fill me in on what happened.”

Daniel told his brother what had transpired and Angel’s fearful reaction at his arrival home that evening. Christian agreed that her sudden concern about doors being locked was unusual, and the fact that she believed she could not go out was setting off alarm bells. They sat trying to figure out what may be happening. Angel had been closed off in relation to talking about certain aspects of her life, but she had never been scared to be in the house. Daniel and Christian both knew something was going on, but they were damned if they had any indication what it was. After all, Samuel was dead and Christian had found no indication Angel had ever had anything to do with Adrian Hastings. The woman Trevor had told him about was Samuel’s mistress and Angel had been his de facto wife. Christian tried to dismiss the uneasy feeling that started churning in his gut.

Instead, Christian questioned Daniel about Angel’s health. He had noticed her pallor and the weariness that often invaded her expression. He listened as Daniel explained his thoughts about placing Angel in too many emotional situations too quickly and agreed that may have been the reason for her being unwell.

“So why do you think Angel finally expressed her love for us today then?” Christian asked.

“Whatever happened to cause her to become afraid turned out to be incentive enough to make her realise that she loved us and didn’t want to lose that love,” Daniel stated. “We’ll find out what she’s scared of, and it doesn’t impact on the fact that she has finally come to terms with what she feels for each of us.”

“We’ll find out tomorrow night. I gave Angel until Wednesday to work out how to tell us what was bothering her last Sunday. Admittedly it’s now the following Wednesday, but I didn’t stipulate what Wednesday night we’d discuss it. Maybe they are the same thing. If not, we just include it in the discussion.” Christian looked at Daniel. He could tell by the look on Daniel’s face that he wasn’t going to argue about putting the discussion off any further.

“Then I guess tomorrow night will be just as interesting as tonight has been, but for very different reasons,” Daniel stated before bidding Christian good night and going to bed.

Christian wandered to bed not long after Daniel. He was still concerned that whatever was going on with Angel had something to do with Barnard’s death. As he looked at Angel sleeping peacefully beside him, he sighed. Trevor Duncan had told him the woman they were looking was Barnard’s mistress, but he had never actually stated the woman’s name. Still, the time frame of the missing woman fitted with Angel’s arrival at their home. Christian reminded himself that he had found no evidence of Angel having anything to do with the Hastings organisation, apart from living with Barnard.

“What is going on with you, my sweet Angel?” Christian whispered almost silently as he brushed a strand of hair from Angel’s face.

Love goes hand in hand with trust. Do you trust me enough to tell me everything I need to know?
As Christian thought the words, he kissed Angel on the cheek, placed his arm around Angel’s sleeping body, and pulled her into his embrace before falling asleep.

Steve’s secure mobile rang at four in the morning. He had only just dozed back off to sleep after being woken continually throughout the night by the memory of Angel’s screams.

“What the fuck are you doing ringing me at this hour?” he snapped into the phone.

“We have a lead. You need to make tracks ASAP.” Trevor Duncan sounded as tired as Steve felt.

“Talk to me.”

“She accessed her bank account, same location as before. So, she either didn’t leave that area in the first place, or she has decided to come back. She purchased items at Bright Sparks Electrical Store, The Shoe Warehouse, the supermarket, and The Book Nerd, and she ate lunch at Eat This Café. How long will it take you to get there?”

“Probably about three hours, maybe a little longer, anything else?”

“Yeah, she bought a phone charger so it looks like she has decided she might need a phone soon.”

“Okay, well, I’m not going to try and call her. She’ll probably run. I’ll be in touch.”

Steve hung up the phone and sat on the edge of the bed with his head resting on his hands. Angel Wylde was slowly killing him. He wandered to the shower and let the cold water run over him. He needed something to wake himself up if he was going to drive for the next three hours. Steve dressed and then packed. At least being in one place for a few days had given him time to do some washing. Angel’s house was fully equipped with all the mod cons. If he could manage to keep her alive, then she may actually get to enjoy living here at some stage. He had already discussed with Trevor the possibility of using the place as a safe house to hide her until Adrian was taken care of. It seemed like the most logical answer to keep her safe until everything was sorted out. Of course, that all depended on two things. First, Steve needed to find her, and then Christian needed to convince her to accept police protection. Steve was more confident in Christian’s side of the equation than in his.

Steve grabbed his bag and bike keys then looked down at the additional box of items he had gathered to take with him. That just wasn’t going to cut it on his Harley. He walked over to the keys hanging on a hook on the wall. He picked up one of the sets of keys and fingered the key ring. “Slut’s Car.” The words were scrawled across a picture of a buxom blonde dressed in high heels and a string bikini. Samuel Barnard was definitely a pig. Steve was sure Angel wouldn’t have picked a key ring like that. It was definitely a Barnard touch.

As he locked the house and carried his gear over to the garage, Steve decided Angel’s car was a good choice of transport. It was only a few years old, fairly conventional, so it wouldn’t draw attention to him, and of course hers, if they needed to drive back here once he found her. They could easily accommodate any luggage and groceries that they may need. Also, the box of items that he packed into the small hatch’s boot, including Barnard’s laptop, were protected from the elements. The stereo had Bluetooth connectivity, which meant Steve could listen to his iPod as he drove. Steve laughed as he heard himself justifying the practicality of his choice of car. He finally admitted the main reason he had decided to take it was because he knew Angel would be happy to have it back. Hell, he might even win some brownie points for finding it for her. God knows he needed to do something to get into Angel’s good books.

It was half past five when he finally got onto the freeway. Given that he needed coffee desperately, Steve decided his only stop would be at the next roadhouse he came across. After that it was straight onto the mall and hopefully some information on how to find Angel. If all went to plan, he should be arriving at the mall by eight o’clock. Steve thought about how he would find Angel. It would be so much easier if she would just answer her damn mobile, or at least return one of his messages. The woman was definitely stubborn when she wanted to be.

He had spent weeks worrying that she might be dead or in the hands of the Hastings gang. How much sleep had he lost over her since she went AWOL? And now he finds she didn’t have her bloody phone charger with her. Hopefully she would get her act together and contact him today. That would certainly save him valuable time in hunting her down. Still, chances were she would ignore the previous messages he’d sent.

Stubborn bloody woman!

As he pulled into the roadhouse for a coffee Steve contemplated sending Angel a new text, maybe telling her he had found her car to encourage her to reply. He was reluctant to try and manipulate her in that way though, and he definitely didn’t want to spook her. If she ran again now, the chances of getting another lead on her were slim. He had to ensure his own impatience to find Angel didn’t make him do anything to limit his chances of achieving that goal.

Steve got back on the road fairly quickly. His double-shot espresso with five sugars really was doing the trick. Steve felt the rich
coffee concentrate pulse into his veins becoming more
alert with each slurp.

Steve wound down the window before lighting a cigarette. Yep, he was an addict…coffee and nicotine, no better way to start the day. He knew Kathy would be disappointed in him. He hadn’t smoked for three years. But when a man’s away from home, feeling stressed and awake at two in the morning after having yet another nightmare, old habits come easily. It didn’t help that the previous owner of the house had left a carton of his favourite brand of smokes in the study. Some circumstances just made it easier to fall than others.

Steve dialled Trevor’s secure mobile. He needed a few things sorted out, and Trevor was his man to get things done. Well, at this time of the morning he was the only contact Steve had, so there was no other choice really.

“Hello, Uncle Fred.” Trevor’s voice was warm and friendly.

“I take it it’s not a good time to call you, Aunt Mildred.” Steve laughed his reply.

“No, not really, I’m in a meeting. But if it’s important I can give you a minute.”

Trevor was a man true to his word. He had told Steve he would always talk no matter what was happening, and he had always honoured that promise.

“Okay, I’m travelling in Angel’s missing Toyota. When you get a chance, can you check that there is no stolen vehicle alert on it? I’m pretty sure she said the police weren’t interested when she said Barnard had taken it, but best to be safe. I have a box of goodies that needs to be secured, so I need to get them to you ASAP. I will deliver it via our friend in the Major Crimes Unit. There’s good info that we can use when the time’s right. Also I’m going to stay at Shore’s place instead of a motel until I have to leave the area. Can you let him know I may be there when he arrives home? I’ll use the key I have to let myself in.”

“Consider it done. Talk to you soon, Uncle Fred.” With that statement, Trevor disconnected the call.

Steve assumed Trevor must have been meeting with Internal Affairs. He’d told him he had info on the spy, and IA was the mob to deal with all that shit. He smiled to himself as he glanced at his watch. Six-fifty in the morning. Markham would be toast if it was the IA team with Trevor at this time of the morning. The two guys he knew from IA used to gloat about the fact that they took on the role so they only had to work normal office hours instead of the shit hours and constant shift rotation that most cops worked. Any emergencies outside of regular daytime hours instantly got IA back up and ensured the cop being investigated had a black mark against him before the investigation even started.

Couldn’t happen to a nicer shithead.

Steve had taken great delight in busting up Markham’s face a few weeks ago. Any cop who would work for Adrian Hastings as a snitch deserved what he got. Steve was sure that Markham would be getting paid handsomely for the information he provided. However, money wasn’t nearly as important as honour. In Steve’s line of work, a man would lose his very soul if he didn’t stay grounded by maintaining
strong moral and ethical principles. As far as Steve was concerned, Markham had sold his soul to the devil, and the devil always viewed his lackeys as expendable pawns if they were exposed.

Steve had often referred to the investigation against Hastings as being just a big game of chess. Whoever had the best strategy and most skill would eventually win. So far there had been losses on both sides, but Steve was beginning to sense a change in the wind. Hastings’s pieces were eventually being taken out of the game, and that was slowly leaving the king exposed. Steve could see checkmate in the not too distant future.

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