If not for her injured leg, he had a feeling they’d have both found incredible satisfaction. He’d have taken her and she would have let him. He grunted to himself, disgusted. Making love in his brother’s office, on a damn desk, with a woman he barely knew and whose motives were more than suspicious. His own motives didn’t bear close scrutiny.
“Sharpe here.”
“Be ready,” Dane barked, frustrated beyond all measure. “She should be leaving the building any second now.” After receiving Angel’s note, Dane had gone through her file, learning what he could about her, which wasn’t much. When he’d first decided on the tail, he’d been reacting on instinct, his life as a P.I. making decisions almost automatic. Now he was driven by sheer male curiosity, and the possessive need to keep what was his. She had his nephew, and that formed an iron link between them that he wouldn’t allow to be severed.
“Description?”
All his agents were very good, but Alec Sharpe, a brooding, almost secretive man of very few words, was the best. Dane trusted him completely.
“Blond, petite, probably limping a little. Wearing a long wool skirt and a dark coat.”
“Got it.”
The line went dead and Dane sighed, putting the phone down. Alec would contact him again using the cell phone once he was sure of his lead. He figured it would take Angel at least a few minutes to maneuver out of the building. If she was parked in the lot, that would take even more time. If she hailed a cab, no telling how long he’d be left waiting.
Alec knew he was still checking out the circumstances of his brother’s death, but no one else did. So far he’d found only enough to raise his concerns, but not enough to form any conclusions.
His brother’s home had been discreetly searched, his papers rifled through. And Derek had some unaccounted time logged in his otherwise very orderly date book that made Dane think he’d had meetings best left unnoted.
Dane settled himself back behind his brother’s desk and began going through the papers and pictures Angel had given him. The first picture of the baby had shaken him and he stared at it again for long moments. It was a photo taken at the hospital of a tiny red-faced newborn that looked almost identical to the twin photos his mother still displayed on her desk. The shape of the head was the same, the soft thatch of dark hair, the nose. He traced the lines of the scrunched-up face and a tiny fist, then smiled, feeling a fullness in his chest.
The next picture was more recent, and the changes were amazing. As plump as a Thanksgiving turkey, the baby had round rosy cheeks, large dark blue eyes, and an intent expression of disgruntlement that reminded him of Derek. Dane wanted to hold the baby, to touch him, make sure he was real. He was a part of his brother, left behind, and Dane knew without a doubt he’d protect him with his life. He hadn’t even met the baby yet, but already the little fellow had found a permanent place in his heart just by existing.
Dane turned the picture over and found the words, Grayson Adam Morris. A very recent picture, only a week old. And the name, it was respectable, solid, except that it should have read Carter, not Morris. Dane intended to see to that problem as soon as possible.
There were also copies of the birth records, and the baby’s footprints, not much bigger than Dane’s nose. He made note of the hospital Angel had gone to, the name of the doctor who’d attended her, and considered his next move. He shook his head, then looked impatiently at the phone. As if he’d willed it, the phone rang and he jerked it up.
“Yeah?”
Without preamble, Alec said, “She’s getting on a bus and she has a baby and some tall guy with her.”
Dane went still, then shot to his feet. The baby had been here with her? “Are you sure it’s a baby?”
“Bundled up in a blue blanket, cradled in the guy’s arms. I don’t think it’s her groceries.”
“Who’s the guy? Are you certain he’s with her?”
“Tall, dark hair, sunglasses. Wearing a leather bomber jacket and worn, ragged jeans. He’s holding her arm, they’re chatting like old friends. You want me to find out?”
“No.” His hand clenched iron-hard on the phone, and Dane decided he’d figure that one out on his own. “Just concentrate on the woman. You can see if he goes home with her, but other than that, ignore him.”
“I’m on it. I’ll get in touch when we reach a destination.”
Again Dane hung up the phone, only this time he used a little more force than necessary. Damn her, had she been lying all along? Why would she bring the baby and a boyfriend with her when she claimed to have missed him—Derek? Didn’t she think that was a bit risky, considering he could have followed her out?
He seethed for almost a half hour before Alec called him back with an address. The guy with Angel had in fact gone into the same building, and the building was located in one of the less auspicious areas of town. Dane pulled on his coat and put everything back into the shoe box, tucking it beneath his arm. He couldn’t risk leaving anything behind where his family might find it. He locked the office on his way out.
Angel Morris thought she knew how to deal with him, but she was judging her moves on how Derek would react. Dane wasn’t a game player, never had been and never would be. His family had figured that out too late; the sooner Miss Morris figured it out, the quicker they could get things settled. He intended to explain it all to her this very day.
WITH THANKSGIVING not too far off, many of the houses had Christmas decorations already up. All the shops he passed had their front windows filled with displays. But as he neared the address given to him by Alec, the spirit of Christmas melted away. Bright lights were replaced with boarded-up windows. Graffiti rather than green wreaths decorated the doors. None of it made any sense. Dane knew Angel had lived in a very upscale apartment complex while working for the Aeric Corporation. He knew from her file that she’d lost her job there after Derek had taken information from her to assure the success of a hostile takeover. But surely she wasn’t destitute. She’d made a good yearly wage.
Wary of the denizens in the area, Dane parked his car in a garage and walked the last block to Angel’s home. The bitter November wind cut through his clothes and made him shiver, but filled with purpose, he easily ignored the cold. When he reached the brick three-family home that matched the address Alec had given him, he gave a sigh of relief. Calling the house nice would be too generous, but it was secure and well-tended, located on a quiet dead-end street of older homes. Angel and his nephew should be relatively safe here.
At least until he moved them.
The front door wasn’t barred. He entered a foyer of sorts and looked at the mailboxes. There was no listing for an Angel Morris, and he frowned. Then he saw an A. Morton and his instincts buzzed. Going on a hunch, he figured that had to be Angel. Why would she hide behind an alias, unless she had a reason to hide? He recalled his purpose in first starting this ruse. Though it was obvious she knew nothing of Derek’s death, he couldn’t discount the possibility that she might have helped set him up for the fall, even innocently. She certainly had plenty of reason to hate him and want him out of her life, and she professed to fear his family, so why then had she approached him today? Because she was surprised he wasn’t dead? Did she have contact with an insider who had informed her of his resurrection? Very few people were privy to the fact of his and Derek’s relationship.
The apartment number listed was on ground level and he went to the door, then knocked, bracing himself for the sight of her again. She’d really thrown him for a loop with her sensual response to him. And he knew in his gut her reaction hadn’t been feigned. Just remembering it made his every muscle tense.
“Come on in, Mick.”
Dane tightened his