Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (85 page)

“I think so,” Angela replied shakily. “I may have a few bruises tomorrow.”

He groaned, covering his eyes with his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I said I would let you do your work and I promised myself I’d stay downstairs tonight. Instead, I wound up charging in here and . . .” He gestured helplessly at the tangled, dampened bed. He shook his head. “What a jerk.”

Angela kissed his salty shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. You came up because of the dream.”

“It’ll be my fault if you’re black and blue in the morning,” he replied miserably. “I’m such a bruiser and you’re so . . . delicate.”

Angela smiled fondly. “I’m not that delicate, I promise you. I was a willing participant so stop acting like you abused me. If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d have been reduced to begging.” She smoothed the frown lines between his brows. “Surely you know that ladies feel like that too. It’s just that with us it isn’t so physically obvious.”

He grinned.

“That’s better,” she said, satisfied. She settled comfortably into the crook of his arm and he shifted his weight to accommodate her. His elbow brushed the lamp on her nightstand and it teetered ominously.

Angela giggled. “Please don’t break anything else. First the statuette, then the vase with Philip ... by the time my uncle comes back we’ll have trashed the whole house.”
 

The mention of Philip brought Devlin back to reality.

“Angela?”

“Mmn?”

“What are you going to do about Cronin?”

Angela sighed. “There was a message from him on the machine when we got back today.”

“I know.”

“He’s not the type to take bad news gracefully.”

“I had a feeling he was a sore loser.”

“I’m going to call him in the morning and ask him to come over tomorrow night. I’ll talk to him then.”

Devlin was silent, thinking about the other man. Though he would dearly love to lock Cronin up with his employer, the Bureau had been unable to link him with Patria’s drug business. In fact, out of all the Patria employees Devlin had met the only one implicated in Patria’s illegal activities was his lawyer, Harold Simmons. The rest appeared to accept Patria for what he in fact was: an art importer. They remained as ignorant about his lucrative sideline as his niece.

“Penny?” Angela said.

“What?”

“For your thoughts. I can practically feel your brain churning away up there.”

“Oh, just rambling.”

Angela fingered the flowered border on the sheet. “Brett, do you think this will all be over soon?”

He tensed with alarm, then realized she was referring to the supposed threats against her life.

“It can’t last much longer,” he replied. “Your uncle has a whole lot of people on his payroll taking care of it. I’m only one person out of many. Frank Patria knows how to get things done.” His fists clenched on the sheet. Lying to her never, never got easier.

“I hope so, because I want to get on with our lives,” she said, her voice drifting off into sleep.

Devlin waited until her breathing was deep and even and then slipped out of bed. He gathered his clothes together, stepping into his jeans and mashing the rest into a ball.

He went down to his room, returning minutes later to jam Angela’s lock as he had done in the past.

Then he went back downstairs. He assembled the tools he would need to put the microfilm that had been returned to him back into the safe. The Bureau now had a copy.

* * * *
 

Devlin returned to Angela during the night, and then placed a call to the Bureau in the morning while she was taking a shower. Josie had not yet arrived and they were alone in the house.

As expected, the microfilm had proved very informative, but there was one further thing left for Devlin to do.

It seemed that the last bit of necessary information was contained in a safety deposit box in one of the local banks. It was a small, private branch where no questions were asked, and the possessor of the right key could gain access to a box without proving identification.

It sounded like the kind of place where Frank Patria might like to do business.

The Bureau had already contacted the day guard at the bank, and he had remembered a young woman who sometimes came to the bank and asked to visit one of the boxes. Usually he didn’t pay much attention to the customers. He was actually better off if he didn’t, because the patrons liked their privacy. But he always noticed a pretty girl.

This young lady was tall and slim with long red hair.

Devlin cursed under his breath. That louse Patria had been using Angela as a courier, doubtless telling her some fairy tale to get her to cooperate. And she had unknowingly transported information for his operation, filing it away in the bank for safekeeping.

Patria knew his niece. She was trusting and would never question what he told her.

Devlin slammed his fist into the wall above the phone. It would be his extreme pleasure to put Patria away for one hundred years.

But first he had to get that key.

And Angela had it.

Chapter 7

Josie knew that things had changed the minute she saw Angela. The younger woman was glowing, flushed with happiness.

“I guess I left too early on Saturday,” Josie said dryly. “I should have stuck around for the subsequent developments.”

Angela smiled, embarrassed.

“And where is he?”

“Getting dressed.”

Josie took the butter from the refrigerator and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. “Well all I can say is, thank God. The tension around here was getting unbearable.”

“Tell me about it,” Angela replied dryly.

“And Philip?”

“I’m seeing him tonight.”

“That should be interesting.”

“Please. I’m trying not to think about it.”

Devlin came into the kitchen, and stopped short as the two women turned to look at him. Color seeped slowly into his face. “Hi, Mrs. Clinton,” he said.

“Hi, yourself. Sit down and eat, you must need your strength. I’m sure you had a strenuous weekend.”

Devlin glanced at Angela, then at Josie. They both grinned at him.

“You two look mighty pleased with yourselves,” he said and they laughed.

“Young love.” Josie sighed. “It’s been a while, but I remember. Come on, Angela, get the coffee. You can’t be that tired.”

She chuckled to herself as she scrambled eggs at the stove.

Angela obeyed, shooting Devlin a glance.

He winked at her, and she began to believe she could handle Philip and anything else that came her way.

* * * *
 

Holly echoed Josie’s sentiments later on that day. She emerged from class to find Angela waiting for her in the hall, Devlin’s arm draped carelessly about her shoulders. He straightened when he saw Holly, dropping his arm.

“It’s all right,” Angela murmured to him.

His eyes moved to Holly’s face.

“What’s going on?” Holly whispered to Angela once they sought a corner by themselves. “He looks as nervous as a cat.”

“I think he’s worried about your reaction to our news,” Angela replied.

“What news?” Then Holly examined Angela’s face more closely. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. I can’t believe it.” She hugged Angela impulsively. “Well good for you. He’s wonderful and God knows you deserve to be happy.”
 

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” Holly said casually, examining her fingernails, “I knew it all along.”

Angela laughed.

“But why is he concerned about what I think?” Holly asked.

Angela shrugged. “You’re my friend and your opinion is important to me. He’d never say so, but I suspect he wants you to approve of him.”

“I approve, I approve. But you know that Philip is going to be a different story.”

Angela nodded unhappily. “Holly, I don’t want to hurt him. But it would be wrong not to tell him now.”

“You’ve got my vote. Good luck.”

Holly walked Angela back to where Devlin was standing, waiting. Smiling impishly, Holly stood on tiptoe and kissed Devlin’s cheek.

He eyed Angela over the other girl’s head, shifting uncomfortably.

“I knew you’d get her in the end,” Holly said conspiratorially. “You devil, you.”

Devlin turned red for the second time that day.

“Have fun, you two,” she said airily, waving as she left. “And I know you will.”

“It’s a pity that she’s so introverted,” Devlin said to Angela, following Holly’s departing form with his eyes.

Angela tugged on his arm. “Come on. I’ve got to get to the library before noon or all the reference books on constructive eviction will be gone.”

Devlin strolled along with her, matching his long stride to her shorter one.

He didn’t even ask what constructive eviction was.

* * * *
 

Angela fiddled with her food all through dinner, dreading the encounter with Philip that was soon to come. Josie exchanged several significant glances with Devlin and finally said to him, “I trust you’re going to stay out of this tonight?”

“I’ll do whatever Angela wants,” he replied mildly.

“I think it would be best if you let me handle it alone,” Angela said.

“I’ll be right down the hall if he turns mean,” Devlin added.

“Why don’t you just vanish for the duration?” Josie advised him. “The last thing a rejected suitor needs is the victor hanging around to gloat.”

“I’m not gloating.”

“Oh, no?” Josie asked archly. “You look pretty smug to me.”

Devlin got up to cut some more meat from the roast on the counter and muttered to Josie in passing, “Why are you giving me a hard time?”

“I’m not giving you a hard time,” Josie replied, loud enough for Angela to hear. “I’m just trying to make sure Angela doesn’t get one.”

Devlin put down the knife and threw up his hands. “I’m out of it, all right? But if that guy does or says anything to upset Angela I’m not going to sit on my hands.”

Josie folded her arms and stared at him. Angela had told her about his fight with Philip. “Great. Maybe we’ll have another episode like the one that occasioned that broken vase. And I’m sure the vase looked better than Philip the next day,” Josie said.

“You sound like you’re feeling sorry for Philip,” Angela interjected.

“Don’t waste the emotion on that clown,” Devlin concluded darkly. He shoved back his chair and stalked from the room. Angela started to get up too, then changed her mind.

“Looks like I ruffled his feathers a bit,” Josie said, picking up Devlin’s plate and scraping it.

“Are you?” Angela persisted.

“Am I what?” Josie replied.

“Feeling sorry for Philip?”

Josie turned on the tap to rinse the plate. “In a way. He didn’t stand a chance from the minute that one showed up at the door.”

“What do you mean?”

Josie shrugged. “Brett’s a charmer, Angela. He doesn’t even have to try. He draws you without effort, like an elemental force.”

Angela stabbed a carrot with her fork. There was no arguing with that.

“And now you’re feeling guilty about all this, aren’t you?” Josie said.

Angela nodded unhappily. “I misled Philip. I know I did. I didn’t love him, and I just let things slide along because I was too gutless to make an issue out of it. But then when I met Brett...”

“You were sure you didn’t love Philip because you saw what the difference was.”

Angela smiled wistfully. “How come you know everything?”

Josie chuckled mirthlessly. “I wish that I did. But I have made quite a study of Angela Patria. I know that you could never hurt anyone’s feelings the way you’re about to hurt Philip’s without suffering for it.”

“I have to do it.”

“Of course you do. It would be worse for him in the long run if you let him continue to hope for something that will never happen.”

“It’s not just me, you know. He had high hopes about Uncle Frank’s business and his place in it. Nothing like marrying the boss’ daughter, or in this case, his niece.”

“I know that,” Josie said quietly.

“He thought he would have it all sewed up in one neat package.”

“Angela, you never cease to amaze me. I knew that you were aware of his motives but I didn’t think you had analyzed them so coldly.”

“I thought about all of it. That’s one of the reasons I found Brett so attractive. It was clear from the beginning he had no interest in Uncle Frank’s money.” She laughed suddenly. “Brett thinks the limousine is obscene.”

“Oh, that’s why you found Brett attractive, huh?” Josie said, teasing. “I thought it might have had something to do with those sultry eyes and that lady killer smile.”