Graham, Jan - Finding Angel [Wylde Shore] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (61 page)

“Of course, you’re both right. Forgive me, Angel, I’m just an old cop that sometimes gets too involved in the thought of taking down the bad guy. Experience over the years has taught me that I need to weigh the cost before acting, but sometimes that lesson fails to impact me until after the fact.” Trevor was sincere as he spoke.

“The electronic files will certainly be more than enough for the warrant and possibly even an arrest, so if charges are laid, Hastings may not be in a position to go ahead with the meeting,” Christian noted.

“I doubt we will be able to move in that quickly, given the wealth of information we have to sort through,” Steve suggested.

Discussion turned to Markham. Trevor asked if Angel would provide a written statement to the effect that the weapons and other information she’d handed over to Steve had indeed been in the home when Markham had conducted his search. Steve knew that the statement, along with the information listing Markham as an informant in Barnard’s files, should seal his fate. It was decided Trevor would make an announcement to his team, Markham included, stating that new evidence had been located and the investigation was now a priority. He agreed to include information that Angel had been located on holiday down the coast and state that she was no longer of interest to the case. He’d continue to monitor Markham’s correspondence and calls and instruct IA not to arrest him until the information had been passed to Hastings.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the game of chess was solidly in their favour. And Adrian Hastings was about to hear the word
checkmate
.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Adrian Hastings sat behind his desk and toyed with the mobile he used for contact with the elusive Miss Angel Wylde. It had been two days since he had spoken with her, and the last time he texted her she had stated she would not answer the phone if he called. He wondered whether today would be any different. Maybe he should just ring and hope for the best. After all, if she didn’t look at the caller ID, she may answer automatically. He tossed the mobile on the desk and berated himself for this strange compulsion to contact her. He could have received the ledger by now if he’d agreed to let her send it via courier, but no, Adrian had insisted Angel hand it to him personally.

You fucking moron, you’re the boss of the major crime organisation in the fucking state, not a horny school boy.

Adrian knew that Angel was not interested in any kind of relationship with him. She had made that perfectly clear, and after living with Samuel, who could blame her. Still, it didn’t stop the increasing fascination he had for her and the desire to make Angel his. Adrian realised that he was old enough to be her father, and for many years he had watched her, believing his interest and attempts to protect her, although not effectively, stemmed from fatherly concern. It wasn’t until she had moved into Samuel’s house that he realised he had never really had a fatherly interest. He’d simply told himself that because he had been married when his fascination first developed.

Once Adrian’s marriage ended, he finally admitted more than a passing interest in the young Miss Wylde. However, by then she had sold her soul to one of his leading devils, and all Adrian was able to do was watch with regret as Samuel attempted to destroy the precious soul he had deceptively acquired.

Adrian had first seen Angel when she was fourteen. He had been meeting with Harold Wylde regarding a burial at one of his construction sites, and Adrian watched her through the window as they spoke. Angel was hanging clothes on the line, and when he asked about her, Harold had referred to Angel as the freebie maid. Adrian had been horrified to discover the young girl was actually the third child in the Wylde family. In all the years he had known Harold, he had no idea that a daughter even existed. Harold Wylde was a despicable man, and he raised two despicable sons. Years later, after Harold’s death, Adrian had heard Justin and Jarrod Wylde refer to Angel as “the thing our mother left behind.” They had showed no concern at all that their sister had been given to Adrian’s most renowned and sadistic hit man as payment for a debt.

Truly despicable men
.

Adrian had built his organisation on despicable men and knew all too well that he could also fall into that category. God knows his ex wife and children thought of him that way. Not that he saw his family anymore. He still paid for their lavish lifestyles. They took his money with no qualms. His money was fine, it was just his presence they couldn’t tolerate. Disliking Adrian had at least saved his son from following in his footsteps. Adrian’s son may have shunned the business but Adrian never believed he’d end up having a twenty-eight-year-old religious fanatic in his family. But that was what his son had become. Adrian assumed it was the only form of rebellion the boy could find. After all, if your father dealt drugs and was a major crime identity, what else could you do to rebel as a teenager? So at sixteen his beloved son had turned to God. Adrian had hoped his son would let the religious fanaticism go eventually, but at twenty-eight his son was still intent on praising the Lord. For Adrian, payback had been a real bitch.

Adrian shook his head and once again picked up the mobile. He dialled Angel’s number…She didn’t answer.

“Cheeky little imp,” he said to the phone.

She was the only woman in the world who constantly resisted him. Except for that one time, but really he had manipulated the situation to his own end. Maybe that was the basis of his attraction to her, Angel wasn’t interested in him. Didn’t she realise how irresistible that made a woman to a man? That and, in Adrian’s case, someone who would dare to tell him exactly what she thought of him. He moved in his seat, trying to adjust the erection that had formed in his pants to a more comfortable position. He picked up the phone and dialled the gentlemen’s club he frequented. Luckily, Samantha was working. She was a buxom little brat with raven hair, and if he took her from behind, he could imagine he was fucking Angel again. He booked a time with her and picked up his keys. He needed to relieve the throb between his legs.

Any cunt in a storm.
Adrian left the office.

As Adrian entered the car park of Mistress M’s establishment, his mobile rang. The Bluetooth answered automatically, and he winced as he heard Markham say hello.

“Speak, and speak quickly. I’m on my way to a meeting,” he snapped.

The little turd infuriated him. Adrian remembered Angel’s reminder to be careful who he listened to as Markham began to ramble.

“So what you’re telling me is Samuel had another house that no one knew about and he kept detailed information there which the police have now acquired. How did they find this house?”

“Apparently they went to the address expecting to find his father living there, but the old man had died and the house was just sitting there, vacant. Apparently that’s where Jax has been.” Markham’s voice seemed strained.

“I thought you told me Jax was with Angel Wylde. That she had given evidence about me and was in police protection. Are you telling me that’s no longer the case?”

Adrian waited to see if the man would back up Angel’s story and admit his mistake. He heard Markham clear his throat and imagined little beads of sweat forming on Markham’s top lip and brow.

“Well?” Adrian snapped harshly.

“Ah, it would appear that information may have been incorrect, although I was sure of it at the time.”

Adrian smiled. He hoped Markham was calling from the gents’ toilet because from the waver in the man’s voice Adrian was sure he was pissing his pants.

“So if Miss Wylde isn’t in police protection, then where is she? I do have a bounty on her head, remember? A bounty brought about by information I received from you, I might add. Are you telling me now that I’m trying to kill an innocent woman?” Adrian smirked as he heard Markham stammering in the background. Adrian raised his voice and yelled into the phone. “Because you know how I hate to kill people who
aren’t
backstabbing little gutter snipes.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hastings. It does appear that Angel Wylde hasn’t given the police anything, apart from Barnard’s weapons. In fact, in the brief today Superintendent Duncan advised she had been located at a holiday destination down the coast and had once again advised she had not found the item the police were after. He stated that Angel was no longer a person of interest for the police due to her lack of knowledge of the organisation. The case against you, though, is back as high priority.”

Adrian listened as Markham spilled out the words so fast they were almost unintelligible. He wanted to ring the weedy little shit’s neck. In fact, he might just do it for the fun of it.

“I see.” Adrian paused for effect. “Isn’t it fortunate then that I removed the bounty three days ago based on the fact that in three weeks since you gave me the tip off I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any charges based on supposed new evidence she had given your team.”

“A–as
…
I said
…
at the time the intel was sound,” Markham stammered.

“At the time I think your intel was no fucking more than office gossip and speculation,” Adrian spat angrily into the phone. “Count yourself lucky that woman wasn’t found and killed. Because as you know I prefer to kill threats
…
and in the future make sure your supposedly sound intel never puts me in a vulnerable situation again, or I might consider you a threat, Mr. Markham.” Adrian terminated the call. He was seething as he walked through the car park and up the stairs.

God help poor little Samantha. If she wasn’t going to get a pounding before I arrived at the club, she is certainly going to get one now.

Trevor Duncan couldn’t believe Markham’s stupidity. One hour after the morning’s meeting he had contacted Adrian Hastings, and he’d done it from the outdoor courtyard while he was supposedly having a smoke. He may as well have stood next to the bloody recording device that had been set up within the department to trace and record calls. As Trevor flicked the sound bite via e-mail to the IA lead officer, he couldn’t believe his luck. Detective Markham was dead in the water. Apart from the evidence against him already, he had just been recorded making a tip-off to Hastings.

Today was definitely a good day. Trevor was compiling the information for the DA and he’d scheduled a meeting to discuss the evidence that had been found at Barnard’s country home. Soon they would place a noose around Adrian Hastings’s neck, just as Hastings had obviously done to Barnard and then they’d let him swing.

Metaphorically of course
.

After he had compiled the information for the DA, including the list of officials identified in Barnard’s files as being on Adrian Hastings’s payroll, he decided to make contact with Steve. He needed to know that Markham had taken the bait and delivered the information to Hastings. Also Angel needed to know that Hastings confirmed he had lifted the bounty. Trevor wondered if this time perhaps the mice and men phrase was just going to be a line from a very old poem rather than a metaphor for life. Trevor’s plans to call Steve were abruptly put to an end as a group of suits entered his department.

Trevor wasn’t surprised that it didn’t take long for IA to walk through his door. Mitchell Speck was a tall, aggressive-looking man, and the head of internal affairs for the state’s police force. He despised bent cops, and when there was evidence as compelling as Trevor had on Markham, then Mr. Speck showed no mercy. Today, Mitchell entered Trevor’s office with an entourage that included two additional members of the IA team, the head of the legal department, a representative of the police union, and, to Trevor’s amazement, the Assistant Chief of Police and Assistant DA.

“I believe we have some cleaning to attend to?” Mitchell stated firmly. “And not just Mr. Markham if the information you’ve obtained is correct.”