Outspoken Angel (11 page)

“Don’t worry, Flash,” she chided. “You’ll be
the first to know if I see the boogeyman.”

* * *

Under the cover of darkness, he crept to the
front door of the house, careful not to bang his gift against the
door as he laid it on the welcome mat. He chose this token of his
admiration carefully, remembering Cameron’s love of pretty things.
He smiled confidently. She’d be so surprised when she discovered
his generosity.

He opened the lid of the box and ran his
fingers over his offering. Satisfied he’d chosen wisely, he tucked
a small white envelope inside and replaced the lid.

Glancing over his shoulder, he reached for
the doorknob and hoped to find it unlocked. He frowned as the knob
twisted in his grip and easily moved from left to right and back
again. Bracing his shoulder against the door, he pushed to no
avail. Cameron never locked her doors; she trusted the security
system to do its job.

He paused, puzzled at this unexpected
obstacle. Shrugging away his concern, he pulled a pick from his
pocket, inserted it into the lock, and jiggled it from side to
side.

* * *

Max sat straight up in bed, awakened by an
unfamiliar noise downstairs. Accustomed to Cameron’s late night
adventures to the kitchen, he was fairly sure it wasn’t her.
Pulling on his jeans, he crept out of the bedroom into the hall. He
paused at her bedroom door, satisfied when he heard her light
breathing float through the air. As he descended the stairs, his
expert night vision allowed him to see the doorknob twist from side
to side.

He inched closer to the door to look through
the peephole, startled when his left foot brushed against something
solid in his path. Shifting his weight from his left foot to his
right, he cursed as a blood-curdling howl shook the walls.

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

Excruciating pain in his left foot caused Max
to glance down at his feet, only to find Maxwell pinned to the
floor, with his paws flailing in the air and howling at the top of
his lungs. Max took another look at the doorknob just as the
security sensors registered his sudden movement. The sirens wailed.
The doorknob stilled and the security light flashed to reveal the
empty porch, except for a long, white box lying next to the door.
The angry cat took one more swipe at Max’s foot before it fled to
the safety of another room.

Max hobbled to the bottom step, stretched his
legs in front of him, and folded his arms behind his head.

“Max!” Cameron raced down the stairs two at a
time, her blonde curls tousled from sleep. “Are you okay?”

He reclined on the stairway as his foot
throbbed and watched her punch her code into the security pad. As
soon as the sirens quieted, she knelt beside him and ran her hand
down the side of his face. Her sweet candy smell invaded his senses
and wrapped him in another round of heat.

“Max?!” She slapped his cheek. “Answer
me!”

“I thought you were talking to the cat.”

“The cat?” She turned to look around the
room. “Maxwell isn’t here.”

“I stepped on him.”

“You stepped on Maxwell?” Her eyes widened.
“My poor baby! He’s probably hiding.”

“I’m bleeding,” he said through gritted
teeth.

Her features softened as she leaned down to
look at his foot.

“He must’ve really been mad at you.” She
traced the edges of the raw scratches with one finger. “These are
ugly.”

He sat motionless while she made her
analysis.

“What were you doing down here, anyway?”

He studied her for a moment and wondered if
she really wanted the truth. “Someone was trying to get in the
house.”

Her rosy cheeks turned ash white. “Who?” she
whispered.

“Don’t know,” he muttered. “Your crazy feline
scared them away.”

When her shoulders slumped and she tucked her
bottom lip between her teeth, he thought she might actually fall
apart - until she pinned him with a fiery gaze.

“If it weren’t for my cat, you and I both
would’ve been toast.”

Max wasn’t quite sure exactly what prompted
his next move, the jagged, bloody scratches on his foot or the smug
expression on her face, but his anger and frustration refused to be
restrained any longer.

“Look here, Princess,
I
heard the
noise.
I
stood in front of the door when the doorknob moved.
If your cat had been asleep instead of on the prowl, I could’ve had
the intruder by the scruff of the neck and all this would be over.”
He paused for moment to re-fuel. “Why can you not see how serious
this is? Someone intended to enter the house, while you were
asleep, and I can guaran-damn-tee you it wasn’t a booty call.”

She blinked several times, almost as if she
used her long eyelashes to snuff the fire in her eyes. “I’m sorry,
Max.”

Finally. Except, now that his anger had
worked itself free, Max felt a slight nudge of guilt. “Don’t be
sorry, be careful.”

She gave him a half smile. “I have a
bodyguard to protect me, remember?”

Her light teasing knocked the fight right out
of him and he squeezed the top of her shoulder. “He can’t get past
me, but you’re making my job almost impossible.”

Max fully expected another argument. Damn his
big mouth. Just when he seemed to have pounded the danger of her
situation into her thick skull, he let his ego barrel through. Did
it really matter that she made him look like an amateur? From the
very first insult she’d slung at him, he’d learned it was best to
let her believe she was in control. And that would continue to be
his strategy. Even if it made him look like an idiot.

“That makes things much more exciting,
Max.”

It took him a minute to realize she’d
responded to his earlier impossible comment - without an argument.
“Exciting doesn’t quite describe it,” he mumbled.

Another light-hearted giggle floated across
his ear. “Let me clean those scratches.”

“Wait, there’s one more thing.” He squeezed
her shoulder again. “You have a gift.”

“What kind of gift?”

“There’s a box on the porch.”

In usual act-before-think tradition, Cameron
pushed herself off the step and started toward the door.

He managed to grab her forearm before she
could flee. “Hold up, Speedy Gonzalez. Don’t touch anything. There
might be fingerprints.”

By a pleasant stroke of luck, she stopped and
propped herself up against the banister. Satisfied she understood
his warning, he ran his hand over his head and limped to the
telephone to call the police.

As he pushed numbers, another thought crossed
his mind. Why didn’t the alarm company call when the sirens
sounded? No way had Cameron turned them off in time.

Max lifted the phone to his ear. Dead air. It
was a long shot, but maybe he could keep this new development from
her. He disconnected and made his first attempt. “Don’t you need
some ice cream after all this?”

Cameron raised an eyebrow and crossed her
arms. “What’s wrong, Max?”

One more time. “Nothing, I just know you like
chocolate ice cream.”

“I like many different kinds of ice cream,
but that doesn’t answer my question.”

He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “No dial
tone. The phone line’s been cut.”

“How do you know?”

“Want me to leave you here and go check?”

She dropped her arms and pushed off the
banister. “No. I’m going to get the ice cream.”

While she rummaged in the kitchen for ice
cream, he ran upstairs, grabbed his cell phone and called the
police. By the time he arrived back downstairs, she was seated on
the bottom step and licked chocolate ice cream from a silver
scoop.

“No spoon?” he drawled.

“This works better. Wanna lick?”

He shifted. Oh man, did he want a lick.

“Go get dressed,” he told her as he pushed
his phone back into his pocket. “The police are on their way.”

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing, as far as
I’m concerned, but the officers won’t investigate much if you
wiggle your ass in those short shorts.”

Cameron stood and dropped the scoop back into
the bucket of ice cream before handing it to him. “Like this?” She
swung her hips as she turned and climbed the stairs.

His eyes caressed her as she walked, the
motion of her shapely hips whetting his already ravenous appetite.
She paused on the top stair and peeked over her shoulder.

“Oh, Max,” she chided while she batted her
eyelashes, “you can unwrap your gift later.”

Max clenched his fists, both irritated and
excited, and almost lost control. In his current state of arousal,
it would only take a minute to take the edge off. They probably had
at least ten minutes. He swore under his breath. Who was he
kidding? Ten minutes wouldn’t be near enough. Hell, ten days might
not cut it. Succumbing once again to self torture, he sat back down
on the stairs, crammed the scoop into the ice cream and then lifted
it to his mouth.

* * *

After what seemed like hours of questioning,
Max crowned the situation fully investigated and ushered the
policemen to the door. And after several more minutes of persuasive
conversation, he sent a surprisingly docile Cameron off to bed. He
brandished his cell phone and dialed for back-up. There was only
one option. He’d assemble his team. First up, Brett Steele.

A SEAL once under Max’s command and now a
member of SEALs, Inc., Steele possessed the unique skill of
surprise attack. Labeling himself a surfer dude, Steele used his
laid-back, what-the-hell attitude to charm his way through an
investigation and gather Intel from even the most hardened sources.
Steele’s theory was that even the bad guy had his balls squeezed by
the warm, willing noose of his woman’s fist, and his standard m.o.
was to seduce information from her. Even with a couple of close
calls, Steele managed to complete his mission.

“Yeah?” Steele croaked over the line.

“Steele.” Max noted the rustling of bed
sheets in the background. “Are you alone?”

“Unfortunately,” Steele groused. “What’s
goin’ on, Captain?”

“We have a new case.” He winced from the
sting of his battle wounds. “Target with a stalker.”

“Male or female target?”

“Female.”

“24-hour surveillance?”

“Yes.” Max ignored Steele’s jab. “He’s a
determined lunatic. So far, he’s tried to kidnap her at the mall
and tonight, he tried to break in the house.”

Steele whistled under his breath. “Man, he’s
an idiot to take you on. What’s your strategy?”

“Sticking to Cameron doesn’t give me much
time for strategy.”

A tense silence vibrated the phone line
before Steele cleared his throat. “Did you say Cameron?”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose.
Here
it comes
. “Yeah, why?”

“The same Cameron who packaged her last
stalker with high heels and pantyhose?”

“Yes, and the same stalker. He manipulated an
early release and tracked her down. I’m not sure if he’s stupid
enough to think she would go back to him, or if he’s out for
revenge.”

“Crazy bastard,” Steele muttered.

“The police can’t do much. They issued an APB
and assigned a patrol to the house. He’ll slide right by. I need
you to tail him.”

“I’m on it. I take it you don’t want her to
know.”

“Absolutely not.” Max rubbed his aching
temples. “And don’t let her bust you this time.”

“I’ll be invisible. Want me to call
Shadow?”

Max chewed that over. Shadow was the best
tracker he’d ever trained, and his marksmanship was second only to
Steele. Maybe next time. “No. He’s working the Ellison case.”

“Affirmative,” Steele said over a snicker. “I
can’t wait to see Cameron in action.”

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

Cameron wasn’t sure which had awoken her, the
morning sunlight streaming through the opening in the curtains or
all the racket coming from downstairs. She poked her head further
under the covers and turned over.
It’s too early for this
.
She hadn’t slept much last night, and when she had slept she dreamt
of Max. Then she woke up hot, sweaty, and achy.

Maybe coffee will help
. She threw on a
pair of shorts and a tank top as she went out the bedroom door,
padding barefoot down the stairs. Shaking the sleep from her eyes,
she stopped in the middle of her descent.

Her house was a wreck. Men drilled holes and
hammered nails in her walls, electronic gizzmos and gadgets
decorated the carpet, and wires wiggled out of the walls and hung
from the ceiling. And standing right in the middle of all that
chaos, barking orders at everyone, was Max, the invincible mountain
of a man who vowed to protect her with his life. Maxwell meowed,
rubbed against him, and zig-zagged back and forth between the tree
trunks Max called legs. Max reached down and scooped the big grey
cat into his arms, scratched him under the chin, and cradled him
against his beefy chest. Her breath hitched. What she wouldn’t give
to trade places with her cat.

It was at that exact moment she knew she was
in love with Maximilian Sterling.

She propped herself against the wall and
digested that realization. Max was one fine specimen of male, rock
hard and steel-plated from the tips of his toes to the top of his
shiny, smooth head. But her interest only began there.

Past his impressive exterior lay his
compassionate heart and tender thoughts, both of which she had
witnessed firsthand. Bound and determined to single-handedly
protect her from Vince, Max portrayed the ultimate warrior,
complete with a brash, bad-ass attitude. Yet when he felt her fear,
he was a mushy, cuddly teddy bear and opened his arms to surround
her with comfort.