Bounty Hunters: 03 Stay Hungry (30 page)

"You know what I mean." The smile she gave him now didn't glow like the ones she'd offered when he made love to her. "The sex was incredible. More than incredible. I could sing your praises all night. But I'm sure you've heard it all before."

Angela bent down to grab their clothes, scooping the entire pile into her arms. He wanted to grab her, force her to admit it was more than sex. The emotions he'd sensed streaming from her before, were now in tight check. She'd covered them up, apparently believing he would somehow hurt her otherwise.

"Before doesn't matter," he said, following her when she left the bedroom and walked across the hall to a small bathroom.

"Well, some of it does. Tell me what you meant when you said earlier that suits and uniforms were all around you as you struggled to gather information to help me nail this case." Angela dropped their clothes on the closed toilet seat lid, then reached around her shower curtain and turned on the water. Once again, she didn't bother with lights.

The darkness suited him fine. Just as it suited him to discuss the case. There would be time later to open up to each other and share their feelings. He would damn well see to it.

"What I meant was that I called the crime in," he began. "I talked to a Detective Ames and he was excited as hell to come flying down there. Of course once he did, his uniforms didn't want me anywhere near the crime scene. It took more than a little bit of work to get close enough to take a good look at the kidnapped victims."

"Did you see Marianna?" Angela was stepping into the shower but turned quickly, her eyes wide as she asked.

He hated disappointing her. "No, and I almost got hauled down to the jail when I ignored the cops and kept looking for her."

They didn't take long in the shower, although she had good, strong water pressure and Jake would have enjoyed soaking under the hot pellets of water for a few. Instead they each made quick work of rinsing away signs of their lovemaking while Jake shared with her what had happened from the point when he arrived at Mandela's house, to following the two black SUVs and large truck across town, and finally to how he'd crawled across the field.

"Thank you for risking so much," she murmured, grabbing the towel hanging on her towel rack and handing Jake a folded towel that was on a shelf over her toilet.

"This is what we do, Angela."

"I know, but you were ordered away from the crime scene yet persisted so you could try and find Marianna. That means a lot, Jake. Not to mention you called the cops when you knew what their take would be on bounty hunters. And Detective Ames is a good man, by the way. My father has worked with him for years."

"There wasn't any way I could let them lift off with all those kidnapped victims. Too many families have been heartbroken for who knows how long since each one of those people went missing."

Angela sighed. "You're right. Good call."

She left him alone in the bathroom, not saying anything else. After dressing and feeling incredibly rejuvenated, Jake found Angela in her living room, standing in the darkness and peering out front around her closed curtains.

"They're going to find us," she said, not turning around. "What did you find on-site during the bust, anything?"

"Actually, yes." Jake pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket. "Obviously I couldn't lift evidence, although I was tempted."

"What?" She turned to face him, her thick black hair damp and falling down her back. She'd changed clothes and the plain blue T-shirt she wore and blue-jean shorts couldn't hide her incredible figure. If she was trying for nondescript, it was probably the closest to it she'd be able to pull off.

"I took pictures." He held up his phone and watched her stare at it.

Angela's green eyes were bright even in the dark room. The way she stared at his phone, as if she could pull from it every image he'd photographed, was fascinating to watch.

"I only had a couple minutes at the back of the truck." Jake pulled up the images on his phone, and Angela moved next to him. There was a hint of rose about her, as if she'd sprayed perfume on after dressing. Did she do that for him?

"They're hard to see. What is this?"

"It's a picture of all the dog crates in the back of the truck."

"Where all the kidnapped victims were," she said, remembering what he'd told her and nodding slowly. "I can't tell how many are there."

"Do you have an e-mail address I can send these to?" he asked, flipping to the next picture for her, which was a shot of the men loading one of the crates into the plane. "They'll be easier to see on a computer screen."

She was pure-blood detective, every inch of her honed in on learning every clue, dissecting every bit of evidence. Watching her nibble her lower lip, look at the pictures he'd taken, then raise her attention to his face made him hard all over again. It didn't matter if Angela wore top-of-the-line, brand-name outfits or simple shorts and a T-shirt, there was an air of erotic beauty about her that was breathtaking. She was the perfect combination of beauty and brains that he never realized he'd been searching so hard for all his life.

"The glow of the computer screen would give us away. I'm actually surprised no one has shown up here yet."

"I'd like to think they're busy questioning Mandela."

"Wait a minute." Angela hurried around him to her luggage, grabbed one bag, then almost ran up her stairs, calling over her shoulder, "We'll use my laptop. We can set it up in my bedroom closet. That way the glow won't be visible outside."

A few minutes later Jake was e-mailing all the pictures he had taken to Angela, who was downloading them as they entered her in-box. She sat cross-legged on her closet floor, which was a fairly large walk-in.

"You know this closet helped sell me on this place," she offered, looking up at him with the same grin she'd given him when they were making love. It was a grin of passion, and he swore anytime he would see it on her face he would immediately be hungry for her. "I never thought it would be this useful for detective work, though," she added, laughing. "We need to set up my spy equipment, too. If there is anyone at Mario's home, maybe we can get a clue what is going on right now."

"Okay. That's all of the pictures." Jake shoved his phone into his pocket. "I don't think I can sit on the floor in there with you. But I'll grab your equipment. Where is it?"

"Nothing about you is small," she said, and color washed over her cheeks. Blushing didn't seem to bother her. He was still blessed with that incredibly vivacious smile.

"My mom fed me well." He shrugged and grinned at her.

Angela stared at him a moment, her smile fading but the glow in her eyes remaining. She was processing something about him, and he wished like hell he could get into her thoughts. The moment passed, though, and she returned her attention to her laptop. "There's a false bottom in my black suitcase. My listening devices are in there."

When he returned to her bedroom a few minutes later, Angela had shoved all of her hanging clothes to the back of the closet, almost doubling the space. She still sat cross-legged, her fingers hovered over the keys, and grinned up at him.

"Is there enough room now?"

She wanted him sitting in here with her. God. Jake almost felt light-headed from the pleasure that swelled inside him. "Let's see," he said, entering her walk-in closet and managing to sit on the floor by the door and put the equipment he'd brought upstairs in between them.

They worked silently next to each other, situating the monitoring box and opening pictures. Within minutes, they had the most cramped detective office Jake had ever imagined seeing. And they were up and running.

Jake switched channels, flipping from the bugs on the patio to the bugs in Mario's room. He started thinking the one she'd put in his room might be dead or discovered. There wasn't any sound coming from it at all. He heard a hum from the one on the patio. When he switched over to the one in the limo, it was silent as well.

"Oh my God! Jake," Angela cried out, reaching for him and grabbing his arm. "I don't believe it. Crap. You've done it!"

He stared at her, tried glancing at the laptop, but didn't have a chance when she damn near knocked it off her lap as she tried leaping over the equipment on the floor between them and into his arms.

"You're the best, the absolute best!" She laughed, managing to wrap her arms around him.

"So you've told me," he answered with a lazy drawl, and held her to him. "What wonderful thing have I done this time?"

She slapped at him playfully when she pulled away, then rebalanced the laptop on her lap. "These pictures. One of them was a page of links. I was going through them and look!" She pointed at the screen.

"Crap," he hissed, staring at a sign-in page. "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's the game," she said in awe.

"And we don't have the password."

"Once we break into this we'll have all the answers. I'm sure of it."

"But we don't know the password."

The image of Earth, spinning on its axis, kept the screen from going idle. Next to it in a thin black cursive font were the words "
Who shall rule the world?
" As the Earth rotated, different countries were highlighted. Underneath the spinning world was a place to enter a screen name and password.

"The program might be set up to lock-up if you enter the wrong password more than a few times," Angela pointed out. "You know, the way financial websites are usually set up."

Jake typed in
Ruler
for a screen name and
number one
as a password. A cartoon image appeared next to the boxes where he typed the information and pulled a gun on him, firing and causing the screen to melt.

"Oh my God," Angela gasped. "No!"

In the next second, the screen reappeared, informing him he got the screen name and password wrong. "I'm going to bank on the fact that the FBI is trying to break into this Web site, too. Assuming they've gotten it wrong the first few times, hopefully our little cartoon gunman will be patient with us."

"I hope you're right," Angela whispered. "Try Mandela as his screen name."

"Any suggestions for a password?"

"Umm ... try 'family.'"

"'Family'?"

Angela shrugged. "Mario made a big deal of how important family was to him."

"Which is why he killed his uncle in cold blood," Jake grunted, but typed in
family.

This time the screen didn't melt. Instead the cartoon gunman appeared, blew on his smoking gun as the words appeared below telling them they got the password wrong.

"His screen name is Mandela!" Angela shrieked, so excited she jumped. The laptop slipped in her hands, and she grabbed ahold of it, bracing it. "Okay, now for the password."

"Try 'Italy,'" he suggested.

Mandela wasn't the family man or loyal patriot. The password wasn't "Italy." He'd filled Angela with a bunch of crap, and although Jake knew she despised the monster, it was hard not taking some things at face value when the person saying them sounded so sincere.

"I have an idea," Jake said, and leaned over the listening equipment again, reached in front of her, and typed on her keyboard. Sucking in a breath, he tapped the mouse, and the screen changed. Her laptop hummed and the two of them stared at the screen, silence building in the small closet.

"Oh my God," Angela whispered, her shock apparent as she stared at the screen slowly downloading on her computer. "What was the password?"

"I'll tell you later." He'd just proved Mandela was the grotesque monster Jake already knew him to be. "This is one hell of a program," Jake said, changing the subject.

Angela looked over her shoulder at him. "What was the password?" she asked again.

If Jake thought he'd found a woman he could protect from all evil, Angela was letting him know with one hard, cold stare that wasn't the case. "Tell me," she demanded, her eyes darkening with her tone.

"The password is 'AngelaMustDie.' One word. Each new word starts with a capital letter."

Angela blew out a long breath, shaking her head slowly as she stared into Jake's face. "Sure sorry to disappoint him," she grunted, then returned her attention to the screen. "Not only am I going to live. I'm going to watch that bastard rot in hell."

Jake's insides swelled. "Pride" didn't quite describe the emotion that swelled throughout him. Angela was tough as nails and softer than silk. At that moment, she reminded Jake of his mom. Worse yet, he never would have thought a woman with such attributes would turn him on so much. His mom would have a field day with that one. Jake groaned inwardly and shoved the image of his mother's gloating smile out of his head.

"Here's the map. It is a board game!" Angela didn't shout this time, but her excitement was apparent. "The players. Jake, look, there are the names of the players."

Jake looked. Mandela was player number three. Player number two was Brutoli. There was only one other player, player number one. Jake stared at the name, Cooper.

"Evelyn Van Cooper," Angela said out loud, voicing his thoughts. "And player number two?"

"Brutus Brutoli," Jake said, already shifting his attention to the rest of the board game.

"Now we have all the names. If Marianna is with one of these monsters we're going to find her!" Angela shot a hard look at Jake but returned her attention to the laptop, opening a new search bar page.

"What are you doing? We need to see if the board game shows where they're going to attack next." Jake reached for the laptop.

Angela moved her shoulder, turning at a slight angle to block him, although she didn't appear to focus on her actions. "How is 'Brutoli' spelled again? What is his first name again?" she asked, flipping to the game, then back to her new search bar. "I'm going to find out everything there is to know about these sons of bitches. Hopefully we can figure out where they have their armies set up. Once we know, we go into both camps and take them out. Maybe Marianna will be with one of them." Angela stopped for a breath and looked up at Jake. "It sounds sane to be able to pull that off within the next twenty-four hours, right?"