Final Surrender (21 page)

“Ugh. Yes. Long story on that one. We’re working it out and taking it out of his check a bit at a time. Wyatt knows about it too, since they found it when they did their background checks. It’s not horrible right?”

“If that’s the only skeleton in your peoples’ closets you’re really doing something. You have some good people working for you and the chemistry of everyone really seems to click. I wouldn’t mess with it unless I had a suspicion one of them was behind the attacks.”

“They’re great people. I think the world of each of them and cherish them all.”

After a short pause, Clay asked, “Hey, has anything happened here ever?”

“Not a thing, other than this is where all of my mail is sent to, so all the photos and letters arrive here. But that’s it. Why?”

“Just trying to piece it all together, see if there’s a pattern or anything else that would lead me to the right person. Well, the wrong person in this case. Oh, and the asshole called while you were asleep last night. I’ve already reported it to Detective Wyatt, but the asshole knew we were tracing the call and didn’t stay on long enough for us to get a trace.”

“He’s getting smarter.”

“You’re telling me. He knew my name and knew I was your security. It’s why I thought it was an inside job, but I forgot it was all over the news.”

Angela opened her mouth to refute his claim again, but he held his hands up in defeat.

“I’ve already told you, you have good people. And I should know, I’ve got their background checks memorized and all their personal info for the last three years, down to some very odd ink. You don’t have to defend them any longer.”

“Good,” Angela replied, as Vanessa walked in.

“Hey, Ness, how’s…”

Her face was as white as ash and she held by the corner an all-too-familiar thick white envelope. Angela would bet it had no return address and was mailed from a different post office yet again.

“Clay…” she managed to get out before her windpipe closed off as she reached for the envelope. Damn, she was so sick of being scared.

“Don’t touch it, Angela. Vanessa, set it on the table. We need to clear the building. It could have a bomb in it.”

Tears flowed down Vanessa’s cheeks. “It doesn’t.”

Clay glared at her.

“I was talking to someone else and I didn’t think. It was upside down and I didn’t see what it was. Who it was from, and I just slit it open. When I pulled everything out I realized what it was. I’m so sorry.” She set it on the table and covered her face with her hands. Soft sobs filled the room.

Angela went to her and gathered her close. “It’s okay.”

“She contaminated evidence, Angela.”

“And I’ve done the same before,” she snapped at him. She closed her eyes. “Sorry. It’s been a long…few days.”

“Don’t touch it. I’ll be right back.” His cell phone already up to his ear, asking the department to patch him through to Detective Wyatt as he strode from the room.

Vanessa sat down on the edge of Angela’s desk and the two women held hands as they waited for him to return.

Clay walked back in pulling on a pair of disposable gloves as he clutched a plastic bag. “I’m opening it to take pictures so we can study whatever’s in there. Wyatt already has someone in route to collect it.”

“What a sick joke,” Angela mumbled.

Vanessa sniffed, “Angela, do you want some privacy? I can tell everyone else that you needed a break and went to lie down and I’ll fend everyone off for a while?”

Hate bubbled through her system that her employees, her friends were scared. “That’d be great, actually. Did you talk to anyone on the way up here? Anybody see that you had one of these?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, I came straight here and didn’t pass anyone on the way.”

“Thanks for being discreet. Just tell them that I’m in a meeting for the next few and we’ll get this all taken care of. There’s no reason to worry everybody else if it’s not necessary.”

Vanessa squeezed her hand one more time and left.

Clay pulled tweezers from a black case he’d tucked under his arm. She’d missed it when he came in holding the bag.

There were a ton of pictures printed on one piece of paper. One of her standing in the window of her loft in panties and a tank top the morning Mark dropped Clay in her lap. Pictures of her standing outside Meli Melo with Clay by her side. He was rubbing her arms, right before she walked off to go collect Mark. More of her at the coffee bar the morning of the attack.

But even more of the bombing, before, and after she practiced flying.

“So you were right. They were there, probably blended in with all the other photographers. No one would have even suspected.”

Clay grunted his agreement. “On the phone just now, James confirmed the components were the same, so it definitely wasn’t a coincidence.”

There were even pictures of them at the park the day before. They must have followed them from her apartment. It was the only explanation she could come up with since no one would have recognized her otherwise.

Angela stared at the picture. At the profiles of herself and Clay sitting on the park bench, trying to see what the stalker saw. The picture showed Clay with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her face was still half covered with his hoodie and her sunglasses were hiding part of her damaged face, but they were staring at each other with such a fierce connection.

“Oh man,” Angela stated mostly to herself. “Things are going to get complicated.”

Maddy peeked her head in the door and said, “Angela, Diane is downstairs looking for a sample we had sitting on the counter and I can’t find it. Can you come help…?” She trailed off when she took in the mood of the group.

“Did you get something?” she asked morosely as she took a step into Angela’s office.

They nodded, and she noticed how Clay didn’t say much but took everything in.

“What came?” Maddy asked with a frown as she took her place next to Angela.

“Oh, just a goody package from my deranged creepo,” Angela answered.

“Clay, did you see this?” Angela pointed at one of the pictures as she turned around, wondering when he had walked away. “Clay?” she asked again and then saw a white sheet of paper in one hand and the other hand clenched into a tight fist.

Angela walked over to stand beside him. “What does it say?”

A and C,

Here’s a gift from me to you since my present for Angela didn’t live up to expectations last weekend.

Just can’t tell you how surprised I was to see the
relationship
blooming between the two of you the past few days.

Is there love in the air or was this some kind of reunion?

Guess the cat’s about to be out of the bag.

Photos will be printed in
Blackmail
tomorrow. A little present has already been sent to your dear brother.

Stay out of LC in February, or everything you hold dear could end up in the
New York Times
.

Page 17.

Obituaries.

TNT

’Til Next Time

Angela read the letter again and finally sat down in her chair with a whoosh.

“This is really starting to piss me off,” Clay barked.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t worry about everything going on downstairs. I’ll handle it.” Maddy headed for the door.

“No, Maddy, can you tell me when the NYPD shows up? An officer working with Detective Wyatt will be here in a little while to take these down to the precinct.”

“Sure, Ang, whatever you need.” Within a minute she was out the door, taking the fearful look with her.

After a moment of silence Clay explained, “I need you to take the phone out of my pocket and take pictures. I don’t want anything else contaminated if I can’t help it.”

As if she watched herself do it, she took his phone out and took pictures of both pages, front and back. He slid everything back in the envelopes, then leaned against her desk. “We look intense in those photos.”

After turning off his phone, she slid it back in his pocket and collapsed into her chair. “I don’t want my life on display, Clay. I don’t want reporters snooping around for a juicy story.”

“I know.”

“We can’t be seen in public like that again. We just can’t.”

“I know,” he added tersely. “I’m sorry,” he bit out.

“It’s not your fault, Clay. I’m not saying that it is.”

“Oh, and it’s yours, Angela? None of this is your fault. I’m here to protect you and I’ve done nothing but get you blown up, and get your bruised face all over the news and now in the gossip mags.
Fuck!
And I’m not anywhere closer to finding out who’s behind it.”

“We’ll have to talk to Mark tonight,” Angela decided, even though all she wanted to do was bury her head in the sand. “He won’t get the mail until after he gets home from work. I can’t have him curious and asking questions. I can’t deal with the big brother stuff on top of everything else. I should warn him.” She reached for her phone, her hands shaking, making it nearly impossible to push the right buttons. Clay took it from her and pushed the end button.

Before Angela could utter more protests, Clay pulled her to her feet, and into his arms. “We’ll fix this, I promise,” he whispered to her.

Some of the tension drained out of her body. Clay had some really wide shoulders, and for the first time she was glad she had shared everything with him and she was glad he was there. “I’ll call, Mark, and tell him what’s going on as soon as the officer leaves. Okay?”

Breathing him in helped. It shouldn’t have but it did. “’Kay.”

The phone on the desk beeped and Angela tried to pull away, but Clay held her firmly as Vanessa came over her speaker and whispered, “Ang, the officer just arrived to collect the package.”

Clay kissed the top of her head, walked to her phone, pushed the intercom button with his pinky. “We’ll be right there.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she said, “Pushy.”

“Live with it.”

He kissed her softly, taking a moment to reassure her, even though he didn’t say a word. He lifted the package by the corner and faced her once again.

“Let’s get this into the hands of New York’s finest and probably the FBI if Wyatt’s assumptions are true that they’re going to put someone on this full time now because of the bombing.”

“And pray they can get a step ahead this time.”

“And stay there,” Clay added with a quick kiss to her lips as they made their way down the hall.

Chapter Twenty-One

Clay locked the doors after everyone had left for home. He told them all to be careful since no one knew what the lunatic would try next.

Slowly, he sauntered to Angela’s office and peeked in to check on her. She was deep in concentration; her head bent over a sketchpad, working furiously, an extra charcoal pencil between her teeth.

He walked back downstairs to the front reception area and stared out the windows and hit redial.

“Wyatt,” a male voice answered on the second ring, sounding gruff and edgy.

“Anything yet?” Clay asked without as much as a
Hey how are ya
.

An exasperated breath blew across the phone receiver on the other end of town. “Nothing we didn’t already know. The paper is untraceable. We ran the last letters for prints and they all came back with your girl’s prints on them, which we already knew. The other printed photos from the last package were developed in a home lab, so they aren’t traceable either, nor is the letter.”

“Is there anything specific we should be looking for that could help?” Clay questioned.

“If it wasn’t sold in every hobby shop, craft store and camera shop from here to Florida, sure. It’s too damn generic. The FBI’s ordering a more thorough breakdown of the chemicals but that could take weeks. Or months.”

“Why the fuck would it take that long?” Anger rolled off Clay in waves.

“Blunt answer? No one’s died.”

“What. The. Fuck.”

“This case isn’t a priority for them because there hasn’t been any deaths. Barebones. There you have it. And that’s strictly off the fucking record.”

Clay barely suppressed the urge to put his fist through a wall. Or two. “Did you have any luck with the people at
Blackmail
?” Clay asked as he paced closer to the windows, staring out at the cabs passing by under the streetlights. Outside, it was spitting rain at the passersby. Gloomy, dark. It mirrored his mood, so he stared out at nothing in particular.

“One thing, but covered with roadblocks. Those bastards will do anything to fill their pages. They admitted they had an envelope just like the one Angela received, delivered this morning in the mail. They’re claiming free speech and freedom of the press and whatever other crap they can so they don’t have to pull the story that will be running tomorrow. It’s not going to keep them from being charged though. But unfortunately money talks and sometimes they’ll deal with the legal shit to keep the dollar signs rolling in.”

“Dammit, you’d think the fact that someone’s life is endangered would have some kind of bearing on their conscience.”

“They have no conscience.” Bitterness bled over the line and Clay scowled harder as Wyatt continued. “We’ve pulled surveillance footage from the surrounding businesses on the off chance something out of the ordinary popped up, but so far…nothing.”

“We’ve got several of our people leaning on them and charging them with accessory and hindering an investigation if they don’t hand over their surveillance footage, but we’re being forced to talk to their high-priced attorney, who says the system wasn’t working. You and I know that’s a load, but we’ll have to go through a lot to get anywhere.”

“Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do.” Then the line disconnected.

Clay flipped the lights off and walked back up to collect Angela.

She stood next to her corkboard with the new sketch she had just drawn.

“It’s nice,” he said as he came up behind her.

“Thanks,” she replied as he pulled her close.

“Is it for the next show?”

“The fall show.” She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his waist, laying her cheek against his chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t do it. Maybe I should stay out. The police have looked into the other designers showing with me and there isn’t even a whiff of scandal. Or evidence anyone is against me. Maddy offered to handle it for me if I wanted her to.”

Clay tipped her chin up. “Fuck. That. We aren’t letting them win, Angela. We make the rules, not them. Got it?”

“Sure,” she halfheartedly agreed as she laid her cheek over his heart.

“Let’s go upstairs. I’ll put you in a bath to soak while I heat up food.”

Within minutes, after listening to her talk about all the things she still needed to do, he pulled her from the room, turning off lights as he went.
Pushy
, echoed up the stairs after him as he led her to the bathroom and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d always thought he liked his women quiet, submissive, but with Angela, who was neither quiet nor particularly submissive, it felt just right.

Slowly, silently, as he captured her gaze with his own, he stripped her of every piece of clothing one by one. His fingers traced the hollows of her collarbones, the tight muscles in her back, cupping her rear as he pulled her satiny panties down her legs. The smell of the juice gathering between her thighs had his mouth watering. The dull throb in his balls that had been there since he sank into her last was gathering speed. Convincing him he needed to take her, slake his thirst for her, had him ushering her over to the tub with gritted teeth.

Her sigh of contentment as she sank into the bathtub was all the thanks he needed. She was working too hard after the concussion and she had to take it easy. The steam in the room swirled around them, smelling of lavender and mint. Her head leaned back against a towel and her arms rested comfortably on the sides of the tub. The tips of her breasts cleared the water every time she inhaled and he had to rearrange his rising problem.

If she didn’t need to relax so badly, he’d plunge in the girly water with her and burn off some of his adrenaline. Exiting was about the only thing that would keep him out of her sweet, warm liquid heat, so he cleared his throat.

“Good for a few minutes while I heat food?” Clay asked from the door. He had taken off his shirt after he got her settled, so when she opened her eyes they latched on to his bare chest. Her tongue licking across her bottom lip was not helping the erection he tried to hide, nor get it anywhere close to under control.

“Good for a year as long as the water stays hot.”

He chuckled and closed the bathroom door giving her a few minutes to ponder everything that had turned her world upside down in less than five days.

What could have been two minutes or two hours later, a phone ringing woke her out of her daydream. Her heart caught in her throat and she wondered who it was. Did she really want to know anymore?

Clay pushed the door open and mouthed the word, “Mark,” before handing her the phone.

She took a deep breath and said, “Hey, Mark” into the receiver, hoping he couldn’t hear her weariness over the long distance call.

“Hey, little sister, how are you holding up?”

“Hanging in there. What about you? Heard you were supposed to get a care package today filled with dirt on me.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I’ve got more dirt under my fingernails. I’m just glad Clay’s there to look after you and keep you out of harm’s way. Well, at least deflect the worst of it.”

She could hear him rifling through something and finally inquired, “What did you get?”

“Fucking postcard,” he cursed. “I was looking for a package or an envelope or something based off of my phone call with Clay this afternoon. I touched it before I realized what it was. My prints are all over it now.”

“We haven’t lifted any prints off of anything so far. And think about how many people in the postal system touched it before it arrived to you. It happens, Mark.”

“And if this was the one time the asshat messed up?”

Angela had nothing to say to that, and she knew Mark didn’t expect her to. “What did it say?”

He cleared his throat theatrically.

Big Brother,

Seems your sister has fallen into the hands of the security guy next door. What a shock!

It will be a shame if they both have to get hurt.

Some of these lovely photos will be in print tomorrow in
Blackmail
.

It won’t be the last unless your sister stays out of Fashion Week.

Convince her to do just that and you can all go back to leading your nice trivial lives.

TNT

“Nice huh?”

“Yeah, great. We took pictures of all of ours. The PD picked them up this afternoon. Will you bag it and call the police on your end?”

“Clay’s already on it. I bagged it as soon as I realized what it was. Took pictures of both sides and emailing those to Clay now. Wyatt’ll have mine tomorrow. The local PD is sending someone now to get it and it’s being overnighted to the NYPD. It’s going right to the police station so they can try to find this asshole.”

“Goodness, after bedtime language? Wow!” she chided, feeling a little bit better.

His silence stretched out until she was about to ask him if he was still there. “You looked like hell in those pictures after the bomb. Are you sure you’re okay? Do I need to come? Do you want to stay here until things get resolved?”

“And what if they never find the bad guy?” Oh, she hated asking that question. Made her stomach heave and roll like she’d eaten something nasty. She knew hundreds of cases went unsolved every year. Even more in New York City, and the thought of her case becoming a statistic made her want to puke.

“They’ll find him. Clay won’t rest until they do.”

“He’s pigheaded enough to think that sheer determination will get it done. He’s quite pushy, you know.”

“That’s what it takes to handle you, sweetheart,” he said with love and a bit of sarcasm.

“Nobody handles me, Mark, and according to my creep and those photos about to hit the gossip columns tomorrow, I can’t keep my hands off Clay and the world will be able to read all about it.” She shifted in the water. The anxiety of what Mark really thought about those pictures weighed on her very narrow shoulders. The world was getting a little heavy.

“Please, Ang. All I can see in those photos is the horrible bruises on your face that you’re trying to hide under a hood and sunglasses. People will see what they want to, nothing more or less. They love having something to gossip about. Just keep your head down and let it blow over. Your supposed relationship will vanish into the round file, along with the magazine when the next issue and the next scandal hit the Internet.”

“Is it that easy, Mark? I’ve never been one to let things roll off my back.”

“I know you haven’t. I also know you’ve been hurt in the past, and you close yourself off from the world to keep from being hurt again.”

“Maybe so, but this is my life and, by God, I play by my rules and nobody’s going to tell me what I can and can’t do and who I can sit on a fucking park bench with.”

“That’s my girl. Did you stomp your foot when you said that, because that’s what I pictured?”

They laughed. Angela loved her brother for being there for her. He’d always been there for her. She sighed, getting misty. “You are such a goober.”

“So true, but I’m your big goober and don’t forget it. Enjoy the rest of your night and know that we’re here for you. We don’t believe the stories this prick is trying to spread, so don’t worry about us. We’re behind you and Clay every step of the way. Maybe a few steps behind so none of us get hit with any shrapnel, but we’re definitely behind you.”

Mark laughed again, and Angela couldn’t help but feel lighter knowing he was still completely oblivious to the truth of what was growing between herself and Clay. Whatever that was.

“Tell the family I love them and I’m sorry you’ve gotten pulled into all of this. Everything’s just gotten so complicated all of a sudden. I’d like a little bit of normal.”

“Please, normal’s boring. I’m not saying you need to go out and get attacked each week, but it is nice seeing you fighting again. Don’t hide, okay. You have to find the silver lining on this really dark cloud.”

“I’ll keep looking and I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Just keep me in the loop here. Tell Clay to keep his eyes open and I’d also like to tell you how impressed I am with you before I go.”

“For what do I owe your admiration?” she asked curiously.

“Keeping Clay around. I thought you’d have kicked him out by now.”

“I did try to make him leave Saturday morning, but I guess he’s growing on me. He can stay for a little while longer. Until the psycho is found, I guess. Love you.”

“Love you too, Ang, and don’t worry about the gossip mongers. It’s all hearsay and it doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks. As long as you’re safe and protected, that’s all we care about,” he said sincerely before hanging up the phone.

Angela set the phone on the edge of the counter next to the tub.

“So how did he take things?” Clay asked as he pushed open the door and stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. He looked like a football player, but the scar really fit into the mercenary description he was given earlier in the day.

Angela pulled the plug on the tub and put her chin on her knees as she watched the water slowly recede past the drain.

“Fine, actually. He has no idea about us, even with the evidence right in front of him. He believes in me too much to see anything else.”

Clay walked up to the tub, scowling, and countered, “No, he trusts me too much to believe I would ever seduce his sister when she’s vulnerable.”

“Oh, please,” she snorted. “Help me up and feed me before I shoot you myself. I could too, you know, so don’t push me. No matter how vulnerable you think I am, if I didn’t want you in my bed, you wouldn’t be there. Period.”

He scooped her out of the tub before she could pick one wet foot up, set her on her feet on one of the bath mats and wrapped her in a large dark purple towel.

His touch warmed her through the towel and the look he gave her could melt butter at twenty feet.

After a moment of hesitation, she leaned toward him on tiptoes, eliciting the rise of one of his eyebrows. Her lips brushed his before she ran them along his jawline, covered in a five o’clock shadow.

His fingers tightened on her arms when she licked his neck.