In A Heartbeat (9 page)

“You scared me half to death,” she said, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing that he’d given some sort of warning.

“My brother should be here any minute.” She stepped back with an anxious glance to the door.

Something had changed. Earlier she had been comfortable in his presence, almost teasing. Now…

“I only need a minute.” He smiled but she averted her eyes. His smile faded. This wasn’t going well. “I wanted to apologize. Elizabeth had no right—”

Angie snorted, gazing at the ceiling. “Elizabeth.” She shook her head. “What did you call it last time? Her urban attitude?”

The reference threw him for a second, then he remembered silky blonde tendrils slipping from a chauffeur’s cap. He leaned against the wall.

“You never did explain why you were driving a limousine that night.”

Her glance shifted to him and lingered a moment. Then she studied her fingernails.

“I’d appreciate it if you would forget you saw me that night. It’s not the sort of thing Falstaff would approve of.”

“Like staying at my house for the weekend?”

At least that got a reaction. She leveled an ice cold gaze on him. “Exactly.”

Her cool tone punched him in the gut. His reference to Elizabeth hadn’t brought about that frosty reaction, something else had. He took a step toward her, but her nervous glance to the door made him reconsider. He retreated a step. “Seems like Falstaff and Watterson have a lot to say about running your life,” he said. “Why stay there?”

“I’m good at what I do. Public accounting pays well.” She ran a finger along the table. “Their rigid code of conduct isn’t any different from the other firms.”

“So you’re in it for the money?” He could certainly understand money as an incentive.

“I have my reasons. Private reasons.” Her look placed him lower than fish bait. “At least I’m honest about how I earn my paycheck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She knew something. Something she wasn’t anxious to talk about. Whatever it was, it had placed him on some shit list.

A white stretch limousine pulled up to the curb outside.

“I have to go.” She gathered her purse and computer case. “My brother’s here.”

He barred her way. “Not until you explain that last statement.”

“Look.” She sighed. “We’ll be finished here tomorrow, then you won’t have to see me until we come back to observe the physical inventory. Can’t we just end this discussion and part as business associates?”

“No,” he commanded, then reconsidered. This wasn’t a woman to be bullied. He softened his tone. “Tell me what you meant by that.”

She looked him straight in the eye. Not many men would do that. “Jim Owens’s daughter.”

The disdain in her voice caught him by surprise. The news had spread all ready?

“I should have expected this after Elizabeth’s scene,” he admitted, a sneer in his voice. “I knew someone would eventually imply I was using the boss’s daughter. I just didn’t expect it to come this soon.” His eyes narrowed holding her gaze. “And I certainly didn’t expect that someone to be you.”

She tried to push her way past him, but he caught her arm and turned her to face him. “Wait. I owe you an explanation.”

She stared pointedly at his hand, making him feel like a brute for forcing her to stay, but he had to make her understand.

“You owe me nothing,” she said.

“Not true. Now listen—”

“Let me go--” She tried to squirm out of his grasp but he held fast.

“Not until I tell you—”

“Take your hands off her,” a man demanded from the open doorway.

Hank sized up the stranger. “Who the hell are you?”

“Stephen.” Angie took a breath and gestured toward Hank. “This is H.P. Renard, the man I told you about?”

“Oh yeah.” Stephen smirked. “The one you said was as cold as the calculator he must have been named for.”

Cold! She said he was cold—a cold, impersonal calculator? Hank swung his gaze to Angela. A flattering blush tinged her cheeks. At least she had the decency to be embarrassed.

“You can remove your hands from my sister now.” Stephen nodded to his hold on Angela. “Or I can remove them for you.”

He’d forgotten he still held her arm. Hank immediately released her. Angela quickly pushed past him.

“I wasn’t harming your sister,” he said. “I was just trying to—”

“—I know what you were just trying,” Stephen said, stepping in front of his sister. “And you won’t be trying it again any time soon.” He glanced over his shoulder where Angela rubbed her arm. “You okay, sis?”

Hank bristled at the insinuation, and waited for Angela to defend him, to explain that he wasn’t that kind of man.

Instead she hobbled past him without comment.

Stephen sneered. “You touch Angie again and it’ll be the last thing you touch.”

Hank watched the blond strongman leave with Angie under his wing. So she found out about Elizabeth.
I wonder how she gained that bit of information? I wonder how much she knows?
An unsettling queasiness roiled in his stomach. It shouldn’t matter. Angela wasn’t part of this unholy arrangement with Owens. He was the victim, not Angela. Still, the accusations in her eyes when she spat out Elizabeth’s name twisted in his gut.

What did she say? Tomorrow was their last day? Why did that announcement disappoint him so? Maybe it was for the best. He had enough women trouble to deal with. He still hadn’t decided how to approach Elizabeth with her father’s scheme. Owens’s two-week deadline was rapidly approaching and he was no further along now then when he was handed that first check.

He patted his pocket in search of a roll of antacids. Lately, he seemed to be living off the chalky stuff. Instead of the anticipated smooth roll, he felt the sharp outline of notched metal, Angela’s keys. A smile slipped to his lips.

She may think tomorrow would be the last day he would see her, but she was mistaken.

“I’VE TOLD YOU before, Stephen, I’m capable of taking care of myself. You didn’t need to play the heavy back there.” She slid in the front seat and waited for her brother to close his door. She supposed she could have ridden in the back and stewed in silence, but riding alone in a cavernous limousine felt too much like riding in the wrong end of a funeral hearse. There was so much that she hadn’t experienced. She wasn’t ready to surrender to that last ride. Not yet.

“Heck, Angie, you can’t even walk the dog without getting hurt.” Stephen glanced at her leg before turning the key in the ignition. “How’s the ankle?”

“It’s fine, but that’s not—”

“And your heart? I saw how red your face was back there. You were straining too hard, too stressed. That’s not good for your heart.”

“That was embarrassment, not stress, and—”

“Did you take your pills at lunch like you’re supposed to? I think as soon as we get home you should lie down and take a nap.”

“I’m not a child, Stephen. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a full grown adult,” she insisted.

Stephen snorted, an unfortunate family characteristic. “Full grown?” He laughed, looked at her briefly, then back at the road. “You know you’re not like everyone else, Angie. No matter how much you wish you were normal, it’s not going to happen. You have to take special care, special medicines. I don’t know why you even insist on working. It’s not good—”

“Don’t tell me how to live,” she snapped. “I’m not going to spend my life lying in bed being coddled.”

She glanced at the fading red ring about her wrist. He hadn’t hurt her, but a mark remained. No man had ever held her in so firm a grip, as if she was made of muscle and bone, not spun sugar. Hank was certainly not one to coddle her, but then, she frowned, he was too busy coddling Elizabeth. She turned her face to the passing scenery outside her window.

It was an old argument, one she and Stephen had been over too many times. They stewed in silence while Stephen negotiated the rush hour traffic. She knew she wasn’t like anyone else. She didn’t need his reminder. She knew she was different every time she felt her heart beat, but that didn’t stop her from having dreams and desires, just like a normal person. Just like a normal woman.

The limousine stopped at a red light in front of a popular bar and restaurant. Stephen glanced at the crowded parking lot. “Timothy’s is packing them in tonight. Not bad for a weeknight.”

“No, not bad,” she echoed, glancing over at the red neon sign mounted on the roof of the restaurant. The name turned her thoughts in a different direction.

“Stephen, have you ever heard of a Timone Industries on Ritchton Street?”

“Timone Industries.” His face scrunched in thought. “Not much call for my ladies in that neighborhood. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” She turned back to the window, wondering if Stephen realized how much he sounded like he managed another less socially accepted business.

“Right,” he sneered. “Just like that. Out of the blue, you happen to ask me about some dive in a seedy part of town without reason?”

“It’s not a dive. It’s a business associated with Hayden. I had some questions about the type of business.”

“You better not be thinking about going down there. That’s a tough area.” He smiled thinly. “Maybe it’s a good thing you can’t just pick up and drive anywhere with that ankle of yours.”

She winced. Another reminder of something she couldn’t do. She shifted the offending leg away from her good, sturdy one. Stephen acted as if she had sprained both her ankles, not just one. She paused. Not just one…

She glanced at Stephen’s feet. He only used one foot to negotiate a car with an automatic transmission.

“And don’t even think about getting one of my drivers to take you there,” he said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” she murmured. But her mind was already turning. A limousine would stand out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood, but her dinged-up little Civic would probably fit right in.
Her Civic! Damn!

She’d forgotten to get her keys back from Hank. That meant another private meeting. She couldn’t very well ask for her car keys in public. Of course, even if she had her car keys, she wasn’t completely sure she could handle driving her car with her injured ankle.

She glanced again at Stephen’s feet. There was only one way to find out.

“Who’s on the board tonight?” she asked, hoping to feign small talk.

“I’m running dispatch. Pete’s on call for driving. I sure could use another driver on board.”

“No response to the help wanted ad?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m still hopeful.” After a brief silence he glanced over at her suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking your apartment is crowded enough without Oreo and me.” She shushed her brother when he tried to interrupt. “You and Laurie could use some alone time. I thought maybe I could handle dispatch for you tonight. It would get Oreo and me out of your place for a little while.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re not harboring any ridiculous ideas about taking one of the ladies out on a run, are you?”

“With this ankle?” She pouted sweetly. “Here I am, trying to do something nice for my big brother. But does he trust me? No.”

He laughed at her exaggerated sulk. “All right, you win. It would be nice to spend a quiet night at home for once. You
are
planning to take that dog with you?” She nodded. “And you promise not to take a car out on the road?”

“Cross my heart.” She reminded herself it really wasn’t a lie. She wouldn’t have to drive out on the road to test her proficiency on the pedals. Classic Limo’s parking lot opened to a strip mall. There should be plenty of blacktop for what she had in mind.

Chapter Eight

HANK TURNED THE Lexus into the long winding driveway. He had asked Elizabeth to wait for him at home, but the place looked deserted—the curtains drawn, the rooms dark. It looked just as it had late Saturday night, or rather early Sunday morning when he had returned to the cold, lonely house after searching in vain for Angela. His stomach gurgled, a precursor of the indigestion that was sure to follow. Ever since he agreed to Owens’s scheme his stomach churned in constant turmoil. He reached for some antacid tablets but found only empty wrappers.
That’s okay
, he reminded himself. Relief was just inside the house in the bulk container he had put in the kitchen.

Even though he had spent most of the afternoon thinking about the imminent discussion, he was no closer to knowing how to proceed with Elizabeth then when he had called her yesterday. Of course, after that scene at Hayden, maybe Liz had packed up and headed back to New York. The house sure looked empty enough. That thought brought comfort and a surprising amount of relief. Although her absence would mean he’d probably have to eventually follow her to New York City to do what he had to do, it wouldn’t be tonight. He could get out of this suit, kick back, order in a pizza, maybe catch a football game on the tube.

By the time the car nosed into the garage next to the familiar corvette, the dour mood surrounding him since Elizabeth’s untimely arrival began to lift.
I wonder if Angie likes pizza.
While that thought came out from nowhere, he felt comfortable he knew the answer.
Yes, she does.
He chuckled to himself as he turned off the ignition and exited the car.

A stale acrid odor and a pale stream of light from the hallway greeted him upon entering the dark house. Elizabeth probably forgot to turn off the lights. He flipped the wall switch to brighten the great room, dropped his briefcase on the couch, then followed the light trail to his bedroom. Crossing through the office, he found her, naked and quite at home in his bed.

“Elizabeth?” He braced his arm on the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“You told me to come here, or have you forgotten?” Smoke streamed past her lips while she flipped the glossy page of a fashion magazine. She tapped the ashes of her lipstick-rimmed cigarette into a half filled wineglass on the side table. “It’s about time you got home. Did
she
keep you late?”

“I wasn’t expecting to find you…like this.” He loosened his necktie and unbuttoned the top button. Chilly autumn breezes pushed at the windows, but inside the temperature quickly heated.