Chances Are(17)

Waiting for the killer to strike was the plan but dammed if he liked it. Didn’t matter that he could be at her side immediately if she needed him. It also didn’t matter that she could easily take down a man without breaking a sweat. Angela in danger was hard to watch.

Her second performance had revealed no viable suspects. More than half of the men had been the ones who’d seen her first performance. None had acted unusual or caused warning bells.

But this was the real test. Angela walking home, alone, in the dark of night with a heavy mist turning every inanimate object into a threatening presence. Hell of it was, they still didn’t know exactly how the killer made the grab. Did he take some of his victims out in the open? Or only from their homes? Did he deliver the roses and then attack? Maybe he made contact with them and they actually met before he took them.

As Jake had known all along—this was a fishing expedition and Angela was the bait.

She had barely even glanced his way when she’d left the club. He had expected nothing different since she could give no indication that they were more than mere acquaintances. Still he had detected an unusual aloofness in her attitude. Since he had known her, Angela had been an open book. He had never met anyone more open or emotionally available. Even after the hell of losing her entire family, she was willing to put her heart and emotions at risk. Having existed in shutdown mode for the last few years, her warmth and honesty jarred him, kicking at his wall of defenses unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

His gut told him something had changed tonight. Had she finally decided that he wasn’t worth the trouble? Could he blame her? Hell no. He’d rebuffed her several times. Even with Angela’s confidence, at some point he had figured she’d accept the reality of their relationship and let it go. So why the hell did he suddenly feel this massive regret?

He’d told Dylan he was a mixed-up son of a bitch. Sometimes he hated being right.



She could feel Jake’s eyes even though she couldn’t hear or see him. Just knowing he was there gave her reassurance. Even if he didn’t want her in the way she wanted him, she knew he had her back.

Her normal confidence had returned, bringing with it a necessary and much-welcomed pragmaticism. Maybe it was the second performance that did it. She’d walked on to the stage, expecting to have the same experience as before, but everything felt different. She couldn’t explain why. The audience had been just as lewd and crude as before. Men had thrown money at her feet, strange hands had slid paper money into her thigh-high stockings and her panties. And once again, many of those hands had tried to touch more. It should have made her feel just as vulnerable and exposed as the first time. Instead, she’d felt powerful. Maybe it was because she had taken the advice of the other dancers and danced only for one man. For her, that man was Jake.

She had imagined those dark blue eyes roaming over her body, his handsome face revealing desire and need. His hands clenched at his side to prevent himself from reaching for her. His entire body stiff and still, aching with all the delicious things he wanted to do to her. She had envisioned that after her performance, he would pull her to him and devour her mouth, then move down her body to the intense, needy throb between her legs aching for his mouth, his tongue.

Angela jerked herself back to reality of the moment. Dammit, she was on a job. A killer was out there and it was her responsibility to attract him. Looking distracted was supposed to be a ruse to make herself look vulnerable. It sure as heck wasn’t supposed to be real.

She flipped her long hair off her right shoulder in a sexy, careless manner—most likely a useless gesture. If she hadn’t attracted him while stripped to almost nothing, a little sexy hair play probably wasn’t going to make a difference. Still, she felt the need to do something.

Stopping abruptly at a park bench, she propped her foot on the back and needlessly readjusted her thigh-high stockings. Her dress was already short and with her leg up like this, she revealed several more inches of skin.

A deep male voice growled in her ear, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just adding enticement.”

“And making it damn obvious you’re wanting to attract attention,” he snapped. “Get your ass moving again. Now.”

Her first reaction was anger at his autocratic, abrupt tone. An instant later, she realized he was right. She dropped her foot and took off again. She wasn’t out to attract every deviant, just one in particular. Jake was probably going to chew her out. She had made a rookie mistake and she was sure he would be happy to point that out. It didn’t help to know that she deserved the reprimand.

She passed a young couple so wrapped up in each other they didn’t notice her. The only other person she passed, an elderly man with a cane, barely glanced at her. She was almost at the apartment and though she knew attracting the killer her first night out hadn’t been likely, she couldn’t help but feel a little let down.

“Why are you slowing down? Keep moving.”

Angela sped up and almost ran the last few steps to the apartment building. Inserting the key into the lock, she was inside in seconds. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, she sped up the stairs as if she were being chased. She heard the door slam behind her and knew that Jake had entered the building.

Racing down the hallway, she stopped at her door and then looked behind her. Jake wasn’t there. Where was he? He had come in right after her. Hadn’t he? Where had—

A large hand covered her mouth as a long, muscular arm snaked around her torso pressing her against a hard male body. “If I had been the killer, you’d already be drugged and I’d be taking you away.”

The familiar voice growling in her ear jump-started a thousand emotions at once. Fear, frustration, anger, desire, need and so many more feelings culminated into an explosive reaction. Angela waited until he had loosened his hold and then acted in one smooth, continuous attack. She bit the hand covering her mouth, slammed her head back against him, then whirled and gave him a one-two punch, one in the face, the other in the gut.

It all happened so quickly, she barely let herself think of the consequences. It was when she saw the blood that she realized she’d gone too far. Jake was bent double, holding his stomach while blood poured from his nose.

Cursing herself, she quickly opened her apartment door and ran to the bathroom for towels. In seconds she was back. Jake had apparently regained his breath. He was inside the apartment, leaning against the closed door and holding his nose to prevent more blood loss.

Remorse filling her, she held out the towel to him and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never—”

Jake shook his head as he took the towel and held it to his face. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did exactly what you should have done. I deserved that for scaring you. My only criticism is that you should never have let me sneak up on you in the first place. You counted on me being behind you and you hesitated. Don’t hesitate. The instant you feel threatened, you act.”

“Yes, but I knew it was you when I did that.”

Though his face was half covered with the towel, she could see that he was smiling. “Yeah, you were pissed. And I don’t blame you. If anyone did that to me, I would have reacted the same way.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“For one thing, I think you underestimate your skill. You move damn fast.”

“And the other thing?”

He shrugged and moved further into the room. “I deserved the hit.”

“Maybe so, but I could have held back on the punch.”

“No, don’t ever hold back. You can always apologize later if you made a mistake. But when someone grabs you from behind, you have every right to react the way you did.”

“How bad is it?”

He lowered the towel and Angela wanted to cry. The lower half of his face was a bloody mess.

Whirling around, she ran to the bathroom again, dampened a washcloth and turned. Jake was standing behind her.

She put the lid down on the toilet and said, “Sit down and let me see how bad it is.”

Jake knew this wasn’t a good idea but he did it anyway. Apparently tonight was all about bad ideas. Trying to teach Angela a lesson in the midst of an op had been dammed stupid. Either he trusted her or he didn’t. Never one to lie to himself, he knew exactly why he’d done it. And it had nothing to do with trust. He had wanted an excuse to wrap his arms around her and feel her against him. He deserved what he got.

Angela leaned closer and began to wipe the blood from his face, her expression both anxious and tender. The temptation to pull her closer and kiss the small worry wrinkle on her forehead had him clenching his hands. The knowledge that she wouldn’t deny him made his need all the more potent. He drew in a sharp breath.

She stepped back. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt that much? Do you think your nose is broken?”

Grateful that she’d stepped out of his reach, he latched onto an excuse. “Actually I think it’s my hand.”