Angel on Fire (17 page)

Her decision made, Angela closed her eyes and fought the urge to sleep.  The room was pitch-black the next time she opened her eyes.  She tried to slide from the bed without waking Chase but his arm tightened.  “Where are you going?” he asked his voice husky from sleep.

“The bathroom.”
 She pushed at his arm and he released her. 

He mumbled, “Come right back,” and Angela scooted off the bed.  She closed the bathroom door and locked it, hoping to give herself a little extra time.  Leaving the door open so it wouldn’t squeak, she attended to business before peeking out through the crack.  Chase appeared to be sound asleep again.  Holding her breath, she eased her way through the small space in the door and grabbed her clothes, purse and shoes before scurrying back into the bathroom.  Once dressed, she stood on the toilet, opened the window, thanked God that the screen was missing, and climbed out. 

Twenty minutes later, Angela stood at the MARC station, tapping her foot while looking over her shoulder. 
Come on, come on,
she chanted.
 
Please don’t be late.
She had a feeling Chase wouldn’t be too far behind her. 

Back at the motel, Chase woke with a start, aware that something wasn’t right.  He leaped from the bed and checked the bathroom, swearing when he noticed the open bathroom window.

Within minutes, he dressed, gathered his gear, and drove out of the parking lot. 
Damn woman!  She’s going to get herself killed or worse. 
Chase
cruised
the streets, looking for anyone resembling Angela in the early morning light.  When he reached the MARC station, he parked in the commuter lot, threw the two duffle bags over his shoulder and marched to the ticket counter. 

“
Mornin
’,” he greeted the ticket agent.  “Any chance you recall selling a ticket to a blue eyed, curly haired brunette early this morning?” 

The man eyed Chase suspiciously.  “
She
runnin
’
from you?”

Chase shook his head.  “Not like that.  We got into an argument, and she walked out.  I suspect she’s headed to her parents in DC but want to make sure she’s all right.”

Picking his teeth with a toothpick, the agent finally admitted, “She bought a ticket for the first train.  It just pulled out.  Next one’s in twenty.  Good thing she’s such a pretty one, or I wouldn’t have remembered her.”  

“Thanks.”  Passing the agent a twenty through the window, he bought a ticket for the next train and told him to keep the change.  Unless something else went wrong, he would catch up with Angela at her apartment.  He only hoped she would stay safe until then.  His jaw tight with anger, he leaned against the wall, waiting for the train and planning Angela’s punishment when he caught her. 

Angela walked from one end of the train to the other.  She kept expecting Chase to jump out and say “Gotcha!”  Now that she was on her way, she realized that her decision was impulsive and unwise but she had to follow through.  She needed to find out if her father had sent her anything and, besides, she had no way to contact Chase.  He would realize where she had gone once he woke up so she would just wait at the apartment for him. 

When the train pulled into the station a block from her apartment, Angela relaxed a bit.  Nothing out of the ordinary had happened so that meant she was probably safe, right?  She slowed as she approached her apartment building.  Bernie, the night guard, was gathering his stuff while talking to two men in suits.  He shook his head and the men headed toward the lobby door.  Angela slipped down the alley to the side door, which the employees used.  Since the door was inaccessible from the outside, no one would expect her to enter through it. 

“Miss Angela!” Bernie gasped in surprise when he stepped out into the alley.  Angela caught the door before it slammed shut. 

“Hi, Bernie.”
  She waved her hand a little. 

“Lots of people looking for you,” Bernie
warned,
his dark eyes serious. 
“You in trouble?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Bernie,” she assured the gentle, old man.  Bernie scared the troublemakers away with his size, but he really was a kindhearted man. 
“Anyone inside looking for me now?”

Bernie shook his head.  “I sent the last two people away a few minutes ago.  They said they’d be back though to search your apartment.”

“Thanks, Bernie.  Hey, do I have any packages?” 

“Not that I know of.”
  As he walked away, Angela stepped inside the dimly lit back hallway and scurried to the freight elevator.  Her nerves jangled as she stepped inside the dark, smelly cage.  The elevator jerked to a halt, and she tiptoed down the hall and unlocked her apartment door.  She paused, listening carefully for any signs of life inside.   

As she entered, she scanned the small foyer before checking each room for intruders.  She inhaled, expecting the normal fresh, clean scent to fill her nose.  Instead, her beautiful apartment smelled stale.  This mess had cost her
her
loving father, her job, her friends, and now the apartment she treasured. 

The phone rang sounding shrill in the absolute silence, and Angela jumped.  As she walked toward the table, a hint of cologne tickled her nose, giving her a hint of warning just as someone wrapped an arm around her throat.  She stopped.  The pressure increased and a man’s voice hissed, “Don’t move.”  Through the pounding in her ears, she heard her father’s voice. 
You have thirty seconds to escape.
 
 Stomp on the top of his foot.  Reach your arm up, grab the wrist of the arm around your neck, slid underneath and pull his arm behind his back. 
 

She slammed her foot down on his but executing the maneuver only bought her a minute.  Instead of going down, her attacker spun using his sheer strength and struck at her with a knife.  Adrenaline kicked in, and Angela arched her back, trying to create some distance between their bodies while reaching for the gun at her back.  She screamed as the knife sliced her left shoulder. 

She yanked the gun out and fired until the gun was empty.  The intruder dropped to the ground, and she stared at him as blood dripped from his wounds in the chest and stomach.  Her stomach lurched.  She had seen him before … at the Fairmont in Boston. 

The beep of her answering machine, followed by her friend Cat’s voice, interrupted the silence. 
“Hey, you.
  Maddie and I are worried.  We thought you’d be in touch by now about this present from your dad.  Call us.  Love you.” 

Still holding the now useless weapon in her trembling hands, Angela turned and fled from the apartment.  As she raced down the hall, she crashed into a strong, hard body.  Hands grasped her, thoroughly inspecting her, as she fought frantically, overcome with panic and desperate to get away.

“Easy, Angel,” Chase whispered cradling her against a warm, comforting chest.  “Are you okay?”

“I shot him,” she managed to gasp out.  “He tried to kill me and I shot him.” 

“Angela,” Chase ground out.  “We need to get out of here.  Police are going to be here any minute.  What’s the best way out?”

“Freight elevator,” she managed to say as she pointed around the corner.  “There’s a back door.  It’s how I got in.”

As the elevator descended, he tugged a cap from his duffle and placed it on Angela’s head, hiding her hair underneath.  After setting her on her feet, he tipped her chin up and placed a pair of dark sunglasses over her eyes before kissing her lightly.  “For a minute there, my heart stopped.  Don’t scare me like that again.  Now get ready to move once the doors open.  And don’t you ever ditch me again, understand?”  His voice was harsh, and his eyes fierce. 

Angela nodded.  “Yes,” she whispered.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think there was.…”

Chase cut her off.  “That’s right.  You didn’t think.”  With that, he yanked her from the elevator and tugged her out the back door.  As they strode down the alley to the main street, Angela noticed two men in suits rushing in the front door.

“Did you shoot him with your Ruger?” he asked twenty minutes later, as they headed down another deserted alley. 

Angela nodded.  “It’s registered so they’ll know I did it, and I ran.  I’m in big trouble.”

Chase nodded.  “They’ll put out an APB.  The Feds were already looking for you.  You just gave them the leverage they were looking for.”   He voice was tight and she could tell he was angry with her.  She gasped when he pulled on her arm and he looked over his shoulder at her.  Her dark t-shirt was covered with blood.  “Where are you hurt?”

“Left shoulder,” she replied softly, panting a little as she tried to keep up with his long legs.  His grip on her wrist remained relentless.  “My neck’s a little bruised too where he grabbed me, but it’ll heal.” 

He only nodded as they entered a neighborhood that clearly had seen better days.  Men loitered on the streets, opening storekeepers lifted the iron gates that protected their property at night, and trash littered the street.  A brisk wind pushed at Angela as Chase pulled her around a corner, pressed the buttons on a dilapidated call box, and opened the door to a decrepit building.  She stepped into a dark, dank hallway with Chase at her back and squealed.  Something furry had brushed her leg.  She looked down, saw red, beady eyes and jumped into Chase’s arms. 
“A rat!”
 

Chase chuckled.  “It won’t hurt you.  It’s not real.”  He tugged her along through cobwebbed hallways until he reached a locked door.  He leaned forward, placed his thumb on a button, and the lock clicked open.  Chase gently nudged her through the open doorway as Angela stared in amazement.  A clean, comfortable bedroom awaited her.  Shoving her toward the bathroom, Chase ordered, “Take care of whatever you need to; then I’ll clean your shoulder.” 

Humph
, she thought as she went to the bathroom and washed her hands. 
Demanding jerk! 
Yeah, and that demanding jerk saved your ass back there.
  If you’d listened to him last night, you wouldn’t have killed a man today.
  Remorse filled her, and she dropped onto the toilet lid.  Tears fell one by one at first and then the dam holding all her pent up emotions burst.  Her dad was dead; the FBI wanted her; someone had tried to kill her; and now she had murdered someone. 

Chase thrust the door open and stalked in, gathering her in his arms.  “Easy, Angel,” he murmured over and over while she sobbed into his shirt.  As the tears ebbed, he eased her shirt off and started cleaning her wound.  “It needs stitches.”

“Stitches?”
  The tears she had just about controlled started again. 

Chase simply nodded as he removed the needed supplies from the medicine cabinet.   

“You know how to do that?” Her voice wobbled. 

“Basic first aid training,” he replied easily.  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, clearly worried that she was going to fall apart again.  She wanted to reassure him that she was fine, but she didn’t want to lie.  She had killed a man today, and even though he was going to kill her, she felt sick every time she closed her eyes. 

“I’m sorry I left,” she apologized as Chase stitched the gash closed.  “I realized that I acted rashly once I was on the train.  I would have called you, but we never exchanged phone numbers or anything.  Besides, I really didn’t think anyone intended to hurt me.”