Read Online THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set) by Norah Wilson, Dianna Love, Sandy Blair, Misty Evans, Adrienne Giordano, Mary Buckham, Alexa Grace, Tonya Kappes, Nancy Naigle, Micah Caida - Free Book Online
Authors: Norah Wilson, Dianna Love, Sandy Blair, Misty Evans, Adrienne Giordano, Mary Buckham, Alexa Grace, Tonya Kappes, Nancy Naigle, Micah Caida
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Vance.”
Ben’s pause stretched too long. “Zane ... Buddy, what’re you up to?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I stop by.” Zane wasn’t ready to discuss this yet, not even with Ben. And definitely not over an unsecured cell phone.
“Don’t mess up your gig with the agency.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Wheels turn slow in the dot gov,” Ben sympathized, using current computer-based slang for government agency. “But investigating on your own is bad juju. If you get into deep water, they won’t blow a big investigation to pull you out.”
Too late for that advice. “I hear you.”
Ben made a grumbling noise but didn’t push his point. “Get me a print as soon as you can and I’ll try to turn it around quick.”
“Thanks, man. See you later.” Zane swung into the terminal of Sunshine Airfield and parked next to the Titan. He yawned as he opened the cargo door then jerked his head back. Good God. Mouse stink left over from the critters woke him up like no caffeine could.
A slash of light from the late afternoon sun reflected off of something small just beneath the copilot seat.
Standing on the ground, he moved his shoulders down to eye level with the corner of the seat. He leaned close to confirm what he saw.
A silver band.
Sometimes the best tool was his small pocketknife. He used the blade tip to move the band out from under the seat. It had been cut in half and crimped in several spots.
His stowaway had made good use of the time when he’d left her in the Titan while he met with his High Vision representative. This had to be a tracking device. And he’d bet she’d used his tools to cut it off of her arm.
He’d lift a print off of this .
Zane could do that, thanks to Ben.
When Vance had offered Zane serious cash for keeping his ears open and passing on any tips that would help the DEA, Ben had spent a day teaching him how to pull fingerprints just in case . He’d given Zane the small box that contained aluminum dusting powder and a zephyr brush. Wearing latex gloves and safety glasses, he brushed everything that Angel could have come in contact with, including the silver band and the tools in his toolbox.
A half hour later, he hadn’t found a single fingerprint, meaning she’d intentionally wiped the areas clean.
Not an encouraging sign for a person with nothing to hide.
And now he had to clean the damn powder off of everything in the cabin.
Who was she hiding from? He’d searched online for any police activity in the Raleigh area from the night before. Nothing significant had shown up, leading him to believe someone chased her for personal reasons.
Hack said the guys who’d come barreling into his airport had left just as quickly. And that the vehicles had some sort of triangle logo on the car doors. Whoever chased Angel had deep pockets.
The lack of fingerprints stumped Zane.
Why would she go to the trouble of hiding her identity from a pilot? Did she think he’d call in the police?
Probably. That’s what he would think, if he were in her grubby yellow running shoes. In fact, he’d offered to call ahead to have the police meet them in Jacksonville.
Damn. That had to be why she ran.
But what did she have to hide?
Someone wanted her back badly enough to band her with a tracking device and send men who played rough.
Zane clenched his fists. Spineless bastard. He’d seen the brutal marks on Angel’s body. He couldn’t blame her for covering her tracks so well, but he should have pushed for more information, a last name at least.
Even as he considered it, he knew it wouldn’t have happened. Pushing a terrified woman ranked right up there with booting a puppy.
He wiped the powder off the toolbox then picked it up to reposition it, and something gold rolled out from behind it.
He snapped on his latex gloves again and lifted the small ball up to view.
On a flat side of the golf-ball-shaped object, an embedded compass gave him a northeast heading from
Ben’s pause stretched too long. “Zane ... Buddy, what’re you up to?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I stop by.” Zane wasn’t ready to discuss this yet, not even with Ben. And definitely not over an unsecured cell phone.
“Don’t mess up your gig with the agency.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Wheels turn slow in the dot gov,” Ben sympathized, using current computer-based slang for government agency. “But investigating on your own is bad juju. If you get into deep water, they won’t blow a big investigation to pull you out.”
Too late for that advice. “I hear you.”
Ben made a grumbling noise but didn’t push his point. “Get me a print as soon as you can and I’ll try to turn it around quick.”
“Thanks, man. See you later.” Zane swung into the terminal of Sunshine Airfield and parked next to the Titan. He yawned as he opened the cargo door then jerked his head back. Good God. Mouse stink left over from the critters woke him up like no caffeine could.
A slash of light from the late afternoon sun reflected off of something small just beneath the copilot seat.
Standing on the ground, he moved his shoulders down to eye level with the corner of the seat. He leaned close to confirm what he saw.
A silver band.
Sometimes the best tool was his small pocketknife. He used the blade tip to move the band out from under the seat. It had been cut in half and crimped in several spots.
His stowaway had made good use of the time when he’d left her in the Titan while he met with his High Vision representative. This had to be a tracking device. And he’d bet she’d used his tools to cut it off of her arm.
He’d lift a print off of this .
Zane could do that, thanks to Ben.
When Vance had offered Zane serious cash for keeping his ears open and passing on any tips that would help the DEA, Ben had spent a day teaching him how to pull fingerprints just in case . He’d given Zane the small box that contained aluminum dusting powder and a zephyr brush. Wearing latex gloves and safety glasses, he brushed everything that Angel could have come in contact with, including the silver band and the tools in his toolbox.
A half hour later, he hadn’t found a single fingerprint, meaning she’d intentionally wiped the areas clean.
Not an encouraging sign for a person with nothing to hide.
And now he had to clean the damn powder off of everything in the cabin.
Who was she hiding from? He’d searched online for any police activity in the Raleigh area from the night before. Nothing significant had shown up, leading him to believe someone chased her for personal reasons.
Hack said the guys who’d come barreling into his airport had left just as quickly. And that the vehicles had some sort of triangle logo on the car doors. Whoever chased Angel had deep pockets.
The lack of fingerprints stumped Zane.
Why would she go to the trouble of hiding her identity from a pilot? Did she think he’d call in the police?
Probably. That’s what he would think, if he were in her grubby yellow running shoes. In fact, he’d offered to call ahead to have the police meet them in Jacksonville.
Damn. That had to be why she ran.
But what did she have to hide?
Someone wanted her back badly enough to band her with a tracking device and send men who played rough.
Zane clenched his fists. Spineless bastard. He’d seen the brutal marks on Angel’s body. He couldn’t blame her for covering her tracks so well, but he should have pushed for more information, a last name at least.
Even as he considered it, he knew it wouldn’t have happened. Pushing a terrified woman ranked right up there with booting a puppy.
He wiped the powder off the toolbox then picked it up to reposition it, and something gold rolled out from behind it.
He snapped on his latex gloves again and lifted the small ball up to view.
On a flat side of the golf-ball-shaped object, an embedded compass gave him a northeast heading from
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