Outspoken Angel (9 page)

“You’re awfully quiet,” she said, maneuvering
back onto the freeway.

He bit his lip as the sound of her soft, sexy
voice broke his concentration.

“You don’t have any more appointments, do
you?”

“No.” She grinned slyly. “But I do need to
work at the office for awhile.”

He sighed in desperation. He needed a break.
She’d be safe at the office.

“Take me to Hawke’s.”

He grabbed the dash as she swerved onto the
shoulder.

“Sorry.” She straightened the wheel. “You’re
not coming with me?”

Max took a second to think about the changes
he’d made to security in the downtown office building since Hawke
married Rachel. An armed security guard occupied each outside door
and two others were positioned in the lobby and watched security
cameras of all activity in the building. Before seven o’clock a.m.
and after seven o’clock p.m. the building was protected by a maze
of laser beams and highly sensitive monitors. No one entered or
left the building without security clearance.

“The security in that building is sufficient.
Just don’t stay after dark, and call me before you leave.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper.” She entered Rachel’s
security code and drove through the gate.

He felt a ridiculous need to kiss her sweet
lips as she parked in the driveway. Instead, he slammed the car
door and stalked toward the house. Looking back briefly over his
shoulder, he slowed as Cameron stuck her head out the top of her
convertible.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she sang sweetly
before bobbing back into the car.

Hell
. If she only knew.

* * *

Hawke hung up the house phone for the fourth
time in thirty minutes, convinced that these were not legitimate
phone calls. No one except Rachel’s clients or charity contributors
called the house anyway, and four dial tones proved they weren’t
business calls. Caller ID didn’t help any either since the call
registered only unknown caller. Time to change the number
again.

He glanced out the window and watched Max
saunter up the sidewalk, look over his shoulder before entering the
security code, and enter the house. Good ole Max. There was no one
in the world Hawke trusted like he trusted Max.

Hawke propped himself against the doorway and
snickered as Max approached the den.

He motioned to Max’s green, knit shirt.
“New?”

“The fashion police,” Max groused.

“You mean Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Man.” Hawke shook his head. “You are in
so much trouble.”

Max snorted. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Do you want to hear my report or not?”

“Yes.” Hawke pursed his lips, respecting
Max’s embarrassment.

“Stone tried to grab her at the mall.”

“Damn, he’s got balls with you around.”

Max cleared his throat. “I wasn’t right there
with her.”

Casually amused, Hawke didn’t mention the
phone calls and crossed his arms. “Where exactly were you?”

Max ran a hand across the top of his head.
“In the blasted dressing room. Little Miss
You need color,
Max
made me try on shirts. Meanwhile, she snuck over to the
shoe display,
Prada, Max
, because they were on sale.” Max’s
face reddened.

“I swear, Hawke,” he continued, “if Rachel
wasn’t so concerned, there’s no way in hell I’d do this. She’s
irritating the shit out of me!”

Max threw himself onto the sofa. Hawke
watched Max’s tantrum with his eyes wide in amazement. Mr. Cool,
Mr. Smooth, Mr. Never-Let-Them-See-You-Sweat was about to
unravel.

“You want her.”

Max released a heavy breath. “Hell yes, I
want her.”

“So?”

“So?” Max tossed his head back. “It’s not
that easy, Hawke.”

“Why?”

“I can’t protect her while I sleep with
her.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No. I have to stay focused. Believe me when
I say it’s impossible to stay focused around Her Majesty Queen
Seductress. Women just complicate things, anyway.”

Hawke bit his lip. Wait until Rachel heard
this. Before he could respond, the phone rang again, right on time.
Hawke shook his head and sighed as it continued to ring.

Max frowned and glanced from the phone to
Hawke. “You gonna answer that?”

Hawke hesitated and tossed the decision to
mention the hang-ups to Max back and forth in his mind. When the
phone finally shut up, he decided changing the number would take
care of the problem. No sense worrying Max, he obviously had enough
on his mind.

“No.”

“Where’s Rachel?” Max asked.

“At the office.”

“You can fill her in.” Max stood and scrubbed
his hand down his face. “I’ve alerted the police department. If
Stone comes anywhere close, they’ll pick him up.”

“Thanks, Max.” Hawke grasped Max’s shoulder
in support. “Relax. You’ll stay focused.”

* * *

Cameron fanned herself with her portfolio as
she buzzed into the office and plopped down on the sofa in the
reception area. “It’s scorching hot out today.”

“Are you sure it’s the weather?” Rachel
murmured from her drafting table in the corner.

Cameron snorted. “Of course! What else would
it be?”

She gave Rachel a sideways glance. She knew
exactly what Rachel meant. And, no, the weather wasn’t what made
her sweat. Memories of a certain, semi-naked caveman tickled her
libido and escalated her blood pressure, but she had no intention
of sharing them with Rachel. Sometimes it was just in her best
interest to play the blonde card.

“How was your meeting with Mrs.
Vandiver?”

Thankful Rachel wasn’t going to push, Cameron
grinned. “Fun.”

“Fun?”

“Max insisted on going with me. Annabelle
ogled him the whole time.”

Rachel giggled. “Do you blame her?”

Cameron strangled her response and
shrugged.

“Oh, come on, Cam,” Rachel prodded, “the man
is extremely satisfying to look at.”

Confident she couldn’t argue with Rachel’s
raging hormones, Cameron sighed. “Okay, he is.”

Rachel tossed her pencil to the table. “Where
is Max?”

“Believe it or not, he dumped me for
Hawke.”

Rachel stood and smiled. “This calls for a
celebration.”

“Oh, please!” Cameron grinned. “You just want
ice cream.”

“I do,” Rachel admitted. “I’ll go get
it.”

“Take my car.” Cameron tossed her the keys.
“I’m parked closer.”

“What flavor?”

“All of them,” Cameron mumbled.

Rachel giggled as she drove down the block.
Cameron’s denial of her attraction to Max made her want to laugh
out loud. Sooner or later, they would give in to their attraction.
It was inevitable.

She gave herself a boost out of Cameron’s car
and panted heavily as she stood. Maybe she should pass on the ice
cream. She gave a half laugh as she waddled into the store. No way.
Browsing the freezers, she knew Cameron wasn’t serious about buying
all the flavors of ice cream, but she picked out four and headed
for the checkout.

The clerk gave her an understanding smile and
glanced at her stomach. “How much longer?”

Rachel wiped the moisture from her forehead.
“Any day.”

The clerk winked. “We’ll keep the freezer
stocked.”

“Thanks.” Rachel loaded her bags into her
arms and pushed the door open with a shoulder.

Stepping out of the cool air into the
suffocating heat, she felt the grocery bags slip as she approached
Cameron’s car. The normally sleek, shiny carriage melted into the
pavement, all four tires slashed mercilessly.

* * *

Hawke cursed as the phone sprang to life
again with its screaming tones.

Max gestured at the noise. “What’s with the
phone?”

“Damn thing’s been ringing all day,” Hawke
said, as his cell phone added to the chorus.

Max lifted the house phone to his ear and
then hung up.

Hawke’s nerves tightened even further when he
heard Rachel on the other end of his cell phone. “Hawke! Thank
God!” she wheezed.

“Rachel? Honey, what’s wrong?”

Rachel explained her dilemma. “And the ice
cream is melting.”

Hawke bit his lip. “Have the clerk put it in
the freezer, Baby. Max and I are on our way. Stay inside where it’s
cool.”

Hawke disconnected and pocketed his phone.
“C’mon, Max, we’ve gotta go,” he said, heading toward the door.

Max shook his head at Hawke’s impulsiveness
as he followed behind. “Details, Hawke.”

“Cameron’s tires were slashed at the grocery
store,” Hawke explained as they jumped in his Suburban.

Max drove down the driveway and signaled the
guard at the gate.

“When I picked up the phone, I got a dial
tone,” he told Hawke.

“All our calls for the past two days have
been hang-ups.”

Rather than blast Hawke for his lack of
communication, Max opted for damage control and dialed his cell
phone. Within seconds, security at the Hawke compound was increased
ten-fold.

“I told Cameron to stay at the office.”

“Cameron wasn’t driving, Max. Rachel wanted
ice cream.”

Max pursed his lips. That wasn’t much better,
but he knew from experience nothing came between Rachel and ice
cream. He dialed his cell phone again and flipped the blinker as
the light turned green.

“Do not leave the office,” he barked into the
phone.

Hawke inhaled a sharp breath.

“Well hello, Max,” Cameron drawled.

“Rachel had a problem at the grocery
store.”

“Is she okay?”

So far so good. “She’s fine, but there’s
another problem.” He took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t make my
ears bleed when I tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Here goes. “Someone slashed your tires.”

“Slashed my tires?!” she screeched. “I’m on
my way.”

He bit back a long, colorful string of
expletives. “No! Do you ever do what you’re told? Stay put. Hawke
and I are on our way to the store. I’ll have your car towed. I’m
sending Huntington to take you home.”

“Greg?” Cameron and Hawke asked in
unison.

“Uh, Max, Greg’s my manager, not my
chauffeur,” Hawke mumbled.

“Yeah, so what the hell is the problem?” Max
scoffed.

“He’s not exactly comfortable being alone
with her.”

Max’s irritation vanished. As screwed up as
it sounded, he understood Huntington’s position. More than anyone
would ever know.

“I could take someone off the house, but it
might not be a good idea with those phone calls.”

“Hello!” Cameron shrieked. “I’m still here.
Send Greg. I’ll deal with him myself.”

Max glanced at Hawke. “She wants
Huntington.”

Hawke nodded and dialed his cell phone.

“Behave,” Max said into his phone.

“Don’t worry, Maxie, I’ll kill him with
kindness.”

As soon as Max pulled into the parking lot of
the grocery store next to Cameron’s car, Hawke jumped out of the
Suburban without bothering to close the door, or wait for Max.

Max scanned the area for reporters or nosy
onlookers before he followed. They probably had a good ten minutes
before anyone figured out what was going on. Luckily, Diablo had
become accustomed to Hawke’s notoriety and now extended both him
and Rachel a quiet respect for their privacy. Even so, this
development was newsworthy.

Once inside the store, Max asked the clerk to
call the police while he shuffled Hawke and Rachel back outside and
into the Suburban, behind the smoked windows.

“Take her home,” he told Hawke. “Security has
everything under control.”

Max watched in relief as Hawke followed
instructions and wheeled the Suburban out of the parking lot.

He stooped to examine Cameron’s tires.
Tracing the gash on one tire with his finger, he noted that there
was nothing peculiar about the cut. As best he could tell, an
everyday pocketknife probably invaded the tire.

He stood and glanced around the parking lot.
Other than mothers with whiny children or people who pushed
shopping carts of groceries, no one seemed out of place. Stone must
have been desperate. He couldn’t have been watching or he would’ve
known Rachel was driving, not Cameron.

He ran a hand across the back of his neck and
attempted to piece together the day’s events. What about Hawke’s
phone calls? Although non-threatening, they were strange.
Especially since Cameron had also received calls of the same
nature.

Frustrated, Max crossed his arms over his
chest and waited for the police. All he could do was wait Stone
out. In the meantime, dodging Cameron’s barbs would keep him
busy.

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

Max stepped to the front door of Cameron’s
house, twisted the doorknob, and hoped to hell she’d followed his
orders. Relieved when he found the door locked, he glanced over his
shoulder and slid a pick from his pocket. In a matter of seconds,
he entered the house and closed the door behind him. He shook his
head at the faint beeping of her poor excuse for an alarm.

With little attention to detail, he removed
his pocket knife from his pocket, pried the cover from the unit,
and cut the wires to silence the alarm. Once the room was bathed in
silence, he climbed the stairs.

The strong scent of cotton candy filled the
air as he approached the first bedroom at the top of the stairs
with the door open wide. Once he stepped inside, the sickeningly
sweet sugary smell invaded his senses and taunted his libido. Hell,
he always did have an overactive sweet tooth.

He paused outside the bathroom door and heard
the sound of swishing water. There were a couple of ways to work
this. He could use his method of choice, the element of surprise,
and beat on the door until the hinges rattled to make sure she knew
he was here. Except that she would just laugh in his face, dunk her
wet, naked body deeper into those candy scented bubbles, and stay
in there until she was good and ready to come out.