“Lookie, lookie, here!” Darian teased.
Alex’s heart pounded inside his chest in panic as he quickened his pace down the rest of the stairs, eager to snatch them away and wipe the smug grin off his friend’s face. “These are very sexy, Alex. The woman attached to them must have melted your cock off,” he said.
“Give them back. Now.” Alex’s voice was ice cold and hard.
“Whoa, hold up, dude.” Darian held both hands in front of him in an effort to ward off Alex’s advance, the panties dangling from one hand. “I found them on the floor. What’s your probl—”
Alex grabbed the panties and scowled at him. “I said give them to me, Darian!” Sucking in his breath, he moved quickly into his den and opened the lower left drawer where the red file was hidden. He ran his fingers over the fine material and lace, remembering how he’d peeled them off Angel, before leaving them in the drawer and returning to the living room.
Alex gathered the keys for his Audi from the coffee table. “Let’s go.”
“Dude. Are you seriously not going to tell me about those panties? Shit, they’re sexier than hell!”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Why? Dude, it’s killing me! I can’t believe Angel gave in on the first date. Man, you’re my hero.”
“Shut the fuck up. It wasn’t like that. She didn’t give in. I did.” Alex grimaced when he said it, revealing more than he intended.
“What?” Darian burst out happily. “I think I just came in my shorts.”
Alex ran his hand across his jaw in exasperation. Jesus Christ. They were out of the apartment and taking the elevator down to the garage when he made the decision that he would drive separately from his friend. “I had no intentions of sex last night. I respect her, and I didn’t want her thinking that Whitney’s twisted description of me was correct.”
“Alex. Of course Whitney’s description was right. You’ve been an unemotional prick and you know it.”
“Well, I never gave a shit before. End of interrogation.”
“Wow. The mighty Alex Avery is being led around by his dick when he said it’d never happen. If that isn’t classic, I don’t know what is.”
Alex chuckled to himself. Well… at least it was a happy dick. Fucking ecstatic!
Angel threw her dictation recorder down on her bed and flopped back on her pillows as her stomach rumbled. It was after seven and she’d been poring over the case files for the past eight hours. Once Becca and Jillian left after a late breakfast, she’d turned off her phone and immersed herself in the task of analyzing the tests and listening to the interviews again and again.
Mark Swanson was an evil bastard. There was no getting around it. He was well known and had a successful chain of dry cleaners that his grandfather had started fifty years earlier. He was connected with important people and his businesses were located all over the greater Chicago area. Everyone knew his smarmy face because it was plastered all over the advertising for Swanson Cleaners. Angel shuddered just thinking of that face. He was guilty as hell and she knew it in her gut. She had a sixth sense about scum like him, but she didn’t have a thing to pin on him.
Angel ran both hands through her long hair and took a deep breath. She was frustrated, listening to his calm tone, methodically describing his relationship with his stepdaughter; completely different than how she described it. He was cold and emotionless. An icy shiver ran through Angel in reaction, the hair on her arms standing straight up.
The girl, on the other hand, was emotionally broken and terrified. It was obvious which of the two was telling the truth. The problem was, the prick had mastered his answers to the standard tests, completely fooling them. Even the polygraph that he’d taken he passed with flying colors. The fucker didn’t profile like an abuser or rapist, and her professional reputation rested on her honesty in what she found in the results. When he left her office the week prior, he’d been smug and condescending; threatening.
“Make sure to get your notes all organized, little lady, and the results are what they need to be. Right, honey? Then we’ll all live happily ever after.”
“Just get out of my office. You can’t fool me.” Her voice had been cold as ice, but deep down, she was scared. He was dangerous and thought himself untouchable.
“And you should hold your tongue if you know what’s good for you, eh?” He’d reached out and touched her chin with his index finger, to which Angel had immediately batted his hand away and glared. Swanson simply grinned and walked out like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Her chest tightened in disgust. He had no fear of being caught or he wouldn’t be so forthcoming with his threats. He had no conscience, no remorse. “Slimy bastard. This is when I hate my fucking job. Uuughhh!” she screamed into the empty air.
The hearing was in two months, but her deposition was Tuesday. There was nothing left to do tonight, and her plans included getting a bath and making something simple to eat. Her apartment was quiet as she walked through the living room on her way to the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the large bouquet of purple lilies on the square, dark wood coffee table in front of her plush olive green suede sofa. The apartment was clear of clutter, but the furniture was a mixture of modern lines and lots of luxurious comfort; plush cushions, dark wood, and slate tiles in the entryway and bathrooms.
Becca wasn’t happy when Angel brushed over the details of her date with Alexander Avery, but all she shared was that he was charming and a few elegant details about the restaurant. She ran her hand over the marble countertop as she passed; thoughts of the more intimate moments came flooding to the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t ashamed of what happened, but something inside her wanted to keep those surreal moments to herself. Maybe it was because she didn’t want Becca to know she’d succumbed just like every other weak-willed woman in Alex Avery’s sights. Maybe it would hurt less when it ended if she could pretend it never happened, and she wouldn’t be able to do that if her best friend knew the details.
The two phones were sitting on the island and Angel stopped herself, a strong urge to turn them on just to see if he’d called. She left her phone where it was and picked up the one from Alex. As she looked at it, knowing she was about to give in, her heart started to hum. What if he didn’t call? As hard as it was to admit, she wanted to see him, hear his voice. She closed her eyes and turned on the phone. Even if he did call, she wouldn’t be able to get the message. What was the password to the voicemail? He hadn’t said.
The screen lit up as the phone turned on, and there were no missed calls. Her heart fell and her cheeks burned with a flush.
This is what I get for fucking him last night! I should have trusted the logic and not given in to the goddamn lust. Angel was angry at her weakness… for allowing the faintest hope that he was different. Until that second, she hadn’t really known how badly she wanted him to be more than Whitney said he was. She really wanted him to be as perfect as he seemed.
Angel sucked in a deep breath and scowled, trying to push down the disappointment that left her reeling. She went to the cupboard and pulled out some angel hair pasta, then to the refrigerator for parmesan cheese, fresh garlic, tomatoes, parsley, and butter. She decided she needed some wine to take the edge off of her emotions and she opened a bottle of chardonnay that was chilling in the refrigerator.