Last Chance To Run (25 page)

Chapter 48

Mason walked out of the warehouse as two more sport utilities rolled up. He stepped past the two incapacitated vehicles sporting flat tires.

At the door to his ride, he stopped to give CK his parameters. “You have twelve hours to find her if you want your money.”

Weapon still in hand, CK said, “I’ll find her. I always have a backup plan.”

Mason did, too, and doubted CK would like his. But the bounty hunter had a reputation of never failing to produce. CK did not walk away from this much money. “I don’t care what it takes, just do it.”

“Now you’re talking my language.”  CK grinned. 

Chapter 49

Traffic thinned along Sunrise Boulevard after ten at night. Zane crossed over the bridge and peeled off north on
Bayview
Drive to a small upscale community east of downtown Ft. Lauderdale. The rain had slacked to a drizzle. He zipped into an expansive parking lot for a high-rise apartment complex.

“There’s a hotel a block from here. We’re going to check in for the night. I know you’re tired, honey, but we’re close,” Zane said.

Angel nodded mutely, giving him reason to believe she’d hit her physical and emotional limit.

His overnight bag was still in the truck, forgotten when he’d returned from Jacksonville. After tossing his cell phone into the bag, he left his weapon on his hip and pulled his shirttail loose to cover it.

Zane circled the truck to Angel’s side and helped her down. Her icy hand barely clung to his as she shuffled along beside him.

They stepped into the lobby of La Shasta, Ft. Lauderdale’s newest five-star hotel, and dripped puddles on the marble floor fit for a palace.

As he approached the front desk, Zane kept his arm around Angel, who still wore the black poncho.

An impeccably dressed middle-aged man, wearing a charcoal gray suit and crisp white linen shirt, stared at them in momentary shock. After a moment, he closed his severe mouth, affecting the perfect hotel manager demeanor.

“Can I help you?” the manager asked with a hint of doubt in his voice.

As the son of a powerful man who’d amassed a fortune in the oil business, Zane knew exactly how to handle this guy. He read “Robert
Sommers
” on the man’s name badge.

“I certainly hope someone can, Robert,” Zane said, biting out each word in an annoyed tone. “First the damn flight lands three hours late, then they manage to lose our Louis
Vuitton
luggage. Next the rental car leaves us stranded two blocks away.
So much for a vacation.”

Robert’s face shifted into his concerned manager expression from Hospitality 101. “I’m so sorry, sir. What can I do for you?”

“Just don’t tell me our reservation has been lost. If that happens, I’m calling my sister, so she can warn the world against this disaster zone. She writes a syndicated travel column and does an occasional stint for the
Travel Channel
.”

That got Robert’s full attention.

La Shasta hadn’t been open long. Zane recalled that a simple problem
with a recent high-profile guest had been blown out of proportion in the local news. Everyone had talked about the embarrassing event for days.

Robert punched up his computer screen. “Can I have your last name, sir?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Black.”

At his words, Angel cocked her head towards him.

He winked at her shocked expression. In addition to a wad of cash he kept on hand to pay for information, he’d been supplied a credit card under the name Zane Black. Even better was the Tallahassee, Florida payment address. Far from his true home in Ft. Lauderdale,
which wouldn’t support Zane’s “vacation” story.

The Tallahassee address was just another layer of protection Zane had wanted in place in case he ever had to use the card.

Robert clicked keys furiously, frowned, squinted, clicked more keys, narrowed his eyes at the computer and glanced up. “Is that spelled B-l-a-c-k?”

“Yes.”

More clicking and deep sighs followed. Robert relented and offered a professional, but completely artificial, smile when he said, “I have your room, Mr. Black.”

Several elderly couples strolled through the grand lobby, casting appalled looks toward the desk as Zane handed over the card, instructing Robert that there had better not be a charge made until he determined the room and hotel were satisfactory.

Robert paused at that, which was going to be a deal breaker for Zane. He didn’t want to risk any chance that someone chasing Angel might have a way to track his credit card before they left. But Mr. Helpful at the registration desk made quick work of processing the paperwork before handing over two room key cards.

Zane took them and said, “Please call when the luggage arrives. In the meantime, we’ll need some toiletries. I have mine in a carry on, but my wife’s things were in the other suitcases.”

Stepping into an office behind the desk, Robert returned with a bag full of items. “Please take these, compliments of La Shasta. We’d like to do whatever we can to make this a pleasurable stay for you.”

Zane nodded his appreciation, thanked him,
then
guided Angel to the elevator. If Robert had any concerns about her single bare foot, he didn’t voice them.

She continued to tremble while they rode silently on the elevator, her shivers worrying Zane as much as her near-catatonic state. He had an
endless list of questions, but those could wait until she’d gotten a hot shower, food, and he’d assessed her injuries. Plus she could probably use some sleep.

He opened the door to a luxurious room with a single king-size bed. The dainty sofa in the corner didn’t appear to hold a foldout or be long enough for his frame. Returning to the lobby to request a room change was out of the question. He’d sleep on the floor before he put Angel under any more strain. He had no idea what she’d endured, but her clothes had been ripped down the front, and she had bruises on the skin he could see.

Someone was going to bleed, from multiple wounds, the next time they tried to hurt her.

Zane slipped the poncho over her head. He tossed it in the corner and flipped on the light in the bathroom that was thankfully subdued since the place had been decorated in white marble and gold hardware. He clenched his fists when he saw her bruised, swollen jaw and the red welts on her ribs.

Tomorrow she’d tell him who had done this and why. Tonight he had to take care of Angel.

Tap, tap, Tap.

Squinting into the door peephole, Zane saw Robert, their accommodating manager, standing on the other side.

Zane eased Angel into the bathroom then answered the door.

“Mr. Black, I’m sorry to bother you,” Robert began. “I noticed your wife had the misfortune of losing a shoe and thought we could be of assistance. If she doesn’t care for these, tell her to feel free to exchange them for another pair in our gift shop on the mezzanine level, our compliments.”

Robert held a beautiful basket with fruit, chocolates, and a pair of dazzling jeweled sneakers fitting for a New Year’s Eve party. The whole bizarre situation would have been hilarious if it weren’t so serious.

“Thank you, Robert. I appreciate your concern.”  Zane took the shoes and the basket, and offered Robert a tip, which he graciously refused.

Zane bolted the door.

Angel emerged from the bathroom and stared at the basket. Strange probably didn’t begin to describe her thoughts.

Tipping her chin up with two fingers, Zane asked softly, “How does a hot shower sound?
There’s
two robes in the bathroom.”  He brushed his hand across her forehead, pushing a long wet strand of hair away from her vacant eyes.

She nodded, but without a word, she took the bag of complimentary
toiletries and shuffled back into the bathroom, shutting the door. He placed the basket on the dresser, called Ben’s voice mail and left the tag number to the Land Rover. Ben had a buddy in motor vehicles who would trace it for him, but Zane hadn’t heard a word from Ben in hours. He hoped there weren’t complications with the birth.

Next he called Trish to tell her to stay with Heidi, and stay far away from his apartment.

The sound of rushing water ended as the shower cut off and a few minutes later the door breezed open. There was his Angel, showered and wearing a white terry cloth robe that hit her at the knees, showing only the bottom half of those awesome legs.

His
Angel.
Warmth spread through him.

Regardless of everything he knew he still wanted her to be his. Had never felt this way about a woman and he didn’t even know Angel’s last name.

He took slow steps toward her.

The scent of her shampooed hair sparked a riot of lust. He’d missed her from the moment he’d left the apartment this morning.
Missed her touch, her voice, the feel of her lips.

Swallowing to help his dry mouth, he couldn’t stop envisioning her in his arms, her long legs wrapped around him. He imagined the robe sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet ... until he lifted his eyes to her ashen face.

She’d never appeared vulnerable before. The spark was gone from her amber eyes. Her slender body trembled under the bulky robe.

Zane closed the distance between them. He gently cupped her shoulders and whispered, “Go lie down. I’ll get a quick shower and be right out. Are you hungry? Do you want anything?”

Her eyes never strayed from his when she shook her head.

Drawing a deep breath as if just moving took all she had to give, she walked away and climbed into the sprawling bed. He drew the covers over her and she curled into a ball.

Grabbing his shaving kit and a pair of shorts, he headed to the bathroom, pausing to look back before he closed the door. He always worried about her being a flight risk, but right now he didn’t think she had it in her to walk to the elevator.

Chapter 50

Cold spread through Angel from head to toe no matter how tightly she tucked her body under the down coverlet. She peeked through her lashes, watching as Zane disappeared into the bathroom.

Squirming to get warm, she groaned every time she moved her battered body.

Dear God, how was she going to keep Mason’s men away from Zane now? Would Zane tell her where the package with the coins had gone if she explained?

Or would he call in the police?

And what was his real name anyway? Zane Jackson?
Or Zane Black?
  If it was Jackson, why did he have an alias?

The situation was way out of hand. What was she going to do? Her spent brain had nothing to offer and threatened to shut down on her if she kept pushing. Tomorrow she’d think everything through, not tonight.

Zane had come for her. She didn’t care what his last name was right now, only that he was alive and here with her.

She quivered and her teeth chattered. The hot shower had helped, but right now she thought she’d never be warm again.

She must have dosed off, but not deeply. The shuffle of clothing brought her back awake. A single lamp glowed on the nightstand next to the bed. Just enough light for her to see Zane step out of the dark bathroom. Her mysterious savior’s hair glistened from the shower. Dressed only in a pair of black shorts, sculpted muscles rippled along his back and shoulders as he toweled his hair.

He tossed the towel in the corner and walked to the closet. His washboard abdomen flexed when he stretched up to pull a pillow and blanket down then dropped them on the floor between the bed and the door.

After all he’d been
through,
Zane was going to sleep on the floor.

She didn’t want him on the floor or the couch or anywhere that didn’t include her. She wanted him close to her, forever.

Angel squeezed her eyes to stem the tears.

She couldn’t have forever, because forever only happened in fairy tales. But she could have tonight. And one night with the man she loved would have to last her a lifetime, because no other man would ever replace him.

Zane wouldn’t want to hear a vow of love from her, not after what she’d put him through. She’d hold those feelings deep inside, close to her heart.

He switched off the lamp. Soft light outside the open drapes threw hazy shadows across the room. He stepped over to the bed. She knew he only meant to check on her, but she grabbed his hand before he could turn away.

“Zane, stay with me.”

He stood still, as if he were unsure,
then
said, “Honey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”  He gave her fingers a squeeze and tried to let go.

She pulled the covers back and tugged on his hand. “Please. I don’t want to sleep alone.” 

Had she not shivered at that moment, she thought he might have refused. When her hand twitched from the movement of her shaking he slid down next to her. The bed gave with his weight.

Not sure what to do next, she lay perfectly still on her side facing him. Not that she could hide her nervousness, but she was breathing as if she’d just run a sprint.

He stared at her, desire burning through his gaze. He did want her. What was holding him back?

She shook with another chill.

He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She melted into his heat and teased his neck with her lips. She kissed his skin, tasting him, and inched her hand up the curved muscles covering his chest.

When she wiggled closer, he shuddered against her. But still he wasn’t taking what she offered.

She had no question that he was interested when the thick bulge in his shorts hardened and prodded her stomach. Any
left over
exhaustion evaporated as her body went on full alert.

He muttered, “If you don’t go to sleep soon this isn’t going to work. I’m not a saint.”

His fingers kneaded gently along her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and breathed out a ragged sigh.

She moved her hand down his chest, sliding her nails lightly up and down across the contour of his abs. He sucked in a sharp breath. His hand stopped massaging her shoulders.

“Angel.”  Her name sounded forced through clenched teeth. “Go.
To.
Sleep,” he
said,
each word a clear warning.

She’d never felt so safe in her life. Being alone with Zane brought out a side of her she’d been afraid to expose to any man before.

She wanted this man, all of him, tonight.

One more touch should convince him she wasn’t the least bit sleepy.
Her hand drifted lower to the rim of his shorts. She slid a finger under the elastic waistband and ran a sensuous trail south.

She was flipped over on her back and covered with his body before she could blink. He had her arms pinned above her head, but his weight rested on his elbows.

“Look,” Zane warned again, but this time in a tight voice. “I’m
not
made of stone.”

She looked down between them.
“Liar.”

Growling, he said, “You’re about ten seconds from pushing me past the point of no return.”

“Then take me with you. I want you, Zane.”

~*~

Zane stared at Angel, not believing his ears. What blood hadn’t squeezed into his aching arousal found its way there now. He was harder than the foundation under their hotel.

He couldn’t take advantage of Angel. This wasn’t like last night in his apartment. She’d been in shock for hours. She’d regret the decision tomorrow and he’d feel lower than pond scum.

But,
dammit
, he wanted her.

Digging deep, he edged past his raging libido and uttered the words that would surely qualify him for sainthood.

“Honey, you don’t know what you’re saying. It’s the stress you’ve been through. We can’t do this.”

“I
do
know what I’m saying. I may not live through this.”

“Don’t say that,” he ordered. Nothing was going to happen to her. He wouldn’t allow it.

More than wanting her right now, he needed her.

“Whether we want to face it or not,” she whispered. “I may not survive. I’ve only been with one person, a boy in high school and that wasn’t very special. I want a special night with you. Don’t you want me?”

His head drooped.

Hell, he’d never wanted to be a saint.

“Baby,” he whispered, “I’ve wanted you so bad, I can’t think.”  He released her hands, rubbing her palms with his thumbs.

“Then love me tonight,” she pleaded.

Neither moved for a long second, then he lowered his head to gently kiss her brow and cheeks.

He paused and released an exasperated deep breath. “We can’t.”  His voice was loaded with regret. “I don’t have any condoms here. I won’t put you at risk of getting pregnant. You may not think you’re going to live,
but I intend to make damn sure you do.” 

Zane wanted to assure her everything would be okay, but he wouldn’t lie to her. He
could
tell her she wouldn’t face the world alone no matter how determined she was to keep him away from her problem. She’d just have to get used to seeing him, because he wasn’t leaving her side.

“The pill is just as safe,” Angel offered. She moved her hands away from his loosened grasp, ran her fingers over his ribs, then up to lightly caress his chest. With her index finger, she teased each of his pebbled nipples.

“Just touch me,” she breathed against his neck.

That broke the thin hold he had on his control. With a swipe, he raised both of her hands above her head again to end her erotic torture before she set off a physical chain reaction that he couldn’t stop.

He lowered his lips to hers. The tender kiss held everything he wanted to promise her, all the words he didn’t know how to say. His tongue probed inside her mouth in search of the taste he loved.
His sweet and saucy Angel.
Her lips molded to his, her hunger every bit as strong as his.

With one hand he untied her robe. His heart beat a rhythm in time with the pulsing in his groin. The robe fell away from shoulder to thigh.

Oh yeah, he never wanted to be a saint if it meant missing out on something this fantastic. He kissed along her neck and shoulders, nuzzling against what terry cloth remained in his way.

He gently cupped her breast and used one finger to draw lazy circles around the nipple. She twisted up against him, her smooth abdomen rubbing his erection.

A throaty whimper escaped her.

Lingering on one breast with his finger, he lowered his head to the other luscious mound and mimicked the movement with his tongue, then barely grazed the tense nipple with his teeth.

Angel lifted off the bed, the whimper stretching into pained plea.

She’d said special.

He wanted to give her the moon.

Her passion drove waves of heat spiraling through him. It would take everything he had to keep from erupting the minute he entered her. Blood pounded in his ears from the need to be inside her.

Angel’s fingers raked through his hair, raising the nerves across his scalp. The feather touch danced along his neck to his shoulders, changing to an anguished grip when he removed both finger and tongue from her breast.

His lips covered hers, his tongue probing past her swollen lips. Her
velvet tongue stroked over his, driving him wild.

No matter how much she gave, he wanted more. He kissed her again and again, hot, hungry, needy. 

With one free hand, he caressed her breast, palming the erect nipple. A purred “
mmm
” escaped her. She wasn’t large, just a perfect handful. But then, he had big hands.

He stroked a path down through the curls shielding the heat between her thighs. With a finger, he entered the sensitive furnace and lit a fire.

She
arched
up, drew in a labored breath, and uttered a long moan.

With his thumb, he teased the pressure point, moving across the sensitive nub back and forth.

“Oh, Zane ...
uhmmm
.”
 

He needed to slow down, find his control.

She wouldn’t let him.

Her teeth scraped his neck. She wrapped her fingers around his head, pulled him down to kiss him. When they broke apart, her warm breath poured across his cheek.

“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured. Nothing beyond this minute was real.

Every move, each response from her was a gift he wanted to take his time unwrapping.

For once, fantasy couldn’t compare with reality.

He kept moving his thumb and finger, pushing her closer to exploding.

She arched forward, pressing against his arousal. “Oh, Zane...oh, I...yes...”  She cried unintelligible pleas, each more passion-filled than the next.

Every time she trembled and whimpered she threatened to snap the thin tether he held on his control. All he could think about was driving into her with mindless abandon, but he wouldn’t go further until he was sure she was ready.

It’d better be soon.

“Baby, just tell me what you want.”  The strained words croaked out of his dry throat.

She panted twice. “You have ... to ask?”

He’d have smiled at the frustration in her husky voice if he hadn’t been equally desperate. Changing up the pace of his fingers, he gave her a gentle push over the edge.

She held her breath for a second then cried out, shaking with the intensity of her climax.

He held her there, savoring the joy of watching her until she fell back to
the bed, winded.

Within seconds, his shorts were gone and he settled between her thighs. He cupped her soft bottom, lifting her up, and slowly entered her.

He heard a soft moan of, “
Yesss
,” before she clenched around him.

She fit him like a second skin, surrounded him, hot and tight. Nothing he’d ever experienced before came close to being inside Angel.

Slow and gentle. He had to take it easy with her.

But she wrapped the endless legs of his dreams around his back and shoved up, driving him deep into her.

He’d live outside the realm of sainthood forever to feel this ecstasy for the rest of his life.

The harder he pushed, the tighter she dug into his shoulders, urging him on. He’d been barely hanging on to his control, but one more clench from her would destroy it. Zane reached between them to stroke her fire, to drive her to the point of combusting.

Her body strained under him, rocking in perfect sync with him.

She cried out, her muscles clenching as she climaxed. Frantic fingers locked on his shoulders as wave after wave coursed through her.

Right damned behind her, his world splintered. His body separated from his mind. He’d never felt an orgasm so deeply.