Fallen Angels: Beguiled / Wanton / Uncovered

The next picture was more recent, and the changes were amazing. As plump as a Thanksgiving turkey, the baby had round rosy cheeks, large dark blue eyes, and an intent expression of disgruntlement that reminded him of Derek. Dane wanted to hold the baby, to touch him, make sure he was real. He was a part of his brother, left behind, and Dane knew without a doubt he’d protect him with his life. He hadn’t even met the baby yet, but already the little fellow had found a permanent place in his heart just by existing.

Dane turned the picture over and found the words, Grayson Adam Morris. A very recent picture, only a week old. And the name, it was respectable, solid, except that it should have read Carter, not Morris. Dane intended to see to that problem as soon as possible.

There were also copies of the birth records, and the baby’s footprints, not much bigger than Dane’s nose. He made note of the hospital Angel had gone to, the name of the doctor who’d attended her, and considered his next move. He shook his head, then looked impatiently at the phone. As if he’d willed it, the phone rang and he jerked it up.

“Yeah?”

Without preamble, Alec said, “She’s getting on a bus and she has a baby and some tall guy with her.”

Dane went still, then shot to his feet. The baby had been here with her? “Are you sure it’s a baby?”

“Bundled up in a blue blanket, cradled in the guy’s arms. I don’t think it’s her groceries.”

“Who’s the guy? Are you certain he’s with her?”

“Tall, dark hair, sunglasses. Wearing a leather bomber jacket and worn, ragged jeans. He’s holding her arm, they’re chatting like old friends. You want me to find out?”

“No.” His hand clenched iron-hard on the phone, and Dane decided he’d figure that one out on his own. “Just concentrate on the woman. You can see if he goes home with her, but other than that, ignore him.”

“I’m on it. I’ll get in touch when we reach a destination.”

Again Dane hung up the phone, only this time he used a little more force than necessary. Damn her, had she been lying all along? Why would she bring the baby and a boyfriend with her when she claimed to have missed him—Derek? Didn’t she think that was a bit risky, considering he could have followed her out?

He seethed for almost a half hour before Alec called him back with an address. The guy with Angel had in fact gone into the same building, and the building was located in one of the less auspicious areas of town. Dane pulled on his coat and put everything back into the shoe box, tucking it beneath his arm. He couldn’t risk leaving anything behind where his family might find it. He locked the office on his way out.

Angel Morris thought she knew how to deal with him, but she was judging her moves on how Derek would react. Dane wasn’t a game player, never had been and never would be. His family had figured that out too late; the sooner Miss Morris figured it out, the quicker they could get things settled. He intended to explain it all to her this very day.

WITH THANKSGIVING not too far off, many of the houses had Christmas decorations already up. All the shops he passed had their front windows filled with displays. But as he neared the address given to him by Alec, the spirit of Christmas melted away. Bright lights were replaced with boarded-up windows. Graffiti rather than green wreaths decorated the doors. None of it made any sense. Dane knew Angel had lived in a very upscale apartment complex while working for the Aeric Corporation. He knew from her file that she’d lost her job there after Derek had taken information from her to assure the success of a hostile takeover. But surely she wasn’t destitute. She’d made a good yearly wage.

Wary of the denizens in the area, Dane parked his car in a garage and walked the last block to Angel’s home. The bitter November wind cut through his clothes and made him shiver, but filled with purpose, he easily ignored the cold. When he reached the brick three-family home that matched the address Alec had given him, he gave a sigh of relief. Calling the house nice would be too generous, but it was secure and well-tended, located on a quiet dead-end street of older homes. Angel and his nephew should be relatively safe here.

At least until he moved them.

The front door wasn’t barred. He entered a foyer of sorts and looked at the mailboxes. There was no listing for an Angel Morris, and he frowned. Then he saw an A. Morton and his instincts buzzed. Going on a hunch, he figured that had to be Angel. Why would she hide behind an alias, unless she had a reason to hide? He recalled his purpose in first starting this ruse. Though it was obvious she knew nothing of Derek’s death, he couldn’t discount the possibility that she might have helped set him up for the fall, even innocently. She certainly had plenty of reason to hate him and want him out of her life, and she professed to fear his family, so why then had she approached him today? Because she was surprised he wasn’t dead? Did she have contact with an insider who had informed her of his resurrection? Very few people were privy to the fact of his and Derek’s relationship.

The apartment number listed was on ground level and he went to the door, then knocked, bracing himself for the sight of her again. She’d really thrown him for a loop with her sensual response to him. And he knew in his gut her reaction hadn’t been feigned. Just remembering it made his every muscle tense.

“Come on in, Mick.”

Dane tightened his jaw and his temper slipped. So the guy who’d been with her, Mick, was welcome in any time? Did she respond as hotly with Mick as she did with him? Dane turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

Angel was lying on a sofa, her injured leg propped up on pillows. She wore only a flannel shirt and loose shorts cut down from a pair of old gray sweats. Thick socks covered her feet. She shoved herself half upright and stared at him in undiluted horror.

Dane looked at her from head to toe, and as a man he appreciated the earthy picture she presented. But he’d use caution from here on out. Angel seemed to vacillate between fear and awareness. Dane decided that either way he’d use her emotions against her to find out for sure what her purpose might be.

Her fair hair was tousled and spread out over the arm of the sofa. Her breasts beneath the worn flannel looked soft and full, without the casing of a bra. Her legs were very long and pale. He saw the vicious scars on her left leg, still angry and red, and his simmering temper jumped in a new direction.

He closed the door quietly and her incredible green eyes went wide and wary. “Derek.”

He indicated her cushioned leg. “You’re hurt worse than you let on.”

Color washed over her face as she started to rise from the sofa. Dane was beside her in an instant. He caught her shoulders, pressing her back down, feeling the narrow bones beneath his hands, aware of her smallness, her softness. “Be still. It’s obvious you overdid it today. You shouldn’t have been up and around.”

He perched on the sofa cushion next to her, feeling her apprehension while he examined her leg, trailing his fingers gently over her smooth skin. Just seeing the scars left behind made him wince in sympathy.

She seemed to gather herself all at once. “Just what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you.”

“How? How did you find me?”

“I had you followed.” His gaze swung from her leg to her outraged face. “Why use an alias?”

Angel paled a little. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mailbox.”

Rather than answer, she tried bluffing her way with anger. “That’s none of your business. And why do you care anyway?”

He was good at lying when it suited him. “Because I have the feeling you’d never have let me get this close. But I second-guessed you, didn’t I?” He waggled a finger in her face, bringing back her healthy surge of angry color. “I think I’ll keep close tabs on you from now on.”

She gasped and he added a not-too-subtle warning. “You can keep your secret, Angel—for now. But when I’m ready, I will know what’s going on.”

Her lips firmed and her look became obstinate. But beneath it all, he saw a measure of pain. “You’re not completely mended yet, are you? Were you hurt anywhere else?”

She gave him another stubborn frown and his attention dropped to her body. Holding her gaze, he asked quietly, “Would you like me to find out for myself?”

She jerked and her arms crossed protectively over her breasts. “All right! I also had some bruised ribs and a few cuts and scrapes—all of which are now healed.”

He continued to look at her, and she turned her head away. “My shoulder was dislocated, too.”

“Good God. What the hell happened to you?”

Even before she spoke, he knew no truths would cross her beautiful lips. Amazing that he could read her so easily after only knowing her such a short time, but he could.

Her chin lifted and she said, “I fell.”

“Down a mountainside?”

“Down a long flight of stairs, actually.”

Keeping his hands to himself became impossible. He cupped her cheeks in both hands. Whatever had happened, it had been serious, and talking about it obviously agitated her. “You could have been killed.”

She started, and her eyes met his. For the briefest moment she looked so lost, he wanted to fold her close and swear to protect her. Idiot. Then she shook her head and that stubbornness was back tenfold, forcing an emotional distance between them. “My leg is the only thing scarred. Nasty-looking, isn’t it?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “You have beautiful legs. A little scarring won’t change that.” And it was true. Her legs were long, smooth, shapely. He imagined those long legs wrapped around him while he touched her again, only this time she would climax, holding him inside her so he could feel every small tremor, every straining muscle. He nearly groaned.

He let his hand rest lightly on her knee and moved his thoughts to safer ground. “You’ve no reason to be embarrassed, Angel. The scars will fade.”