THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

in anger. The cell phone rang again. Ignore it and finish this conversation or miss talking to Ben, who had to be calling him back?
    He and Angel stared at each other for a nanosecond before he stepped into the room and around the bed to the other nightstand. He snatched up his phone. “Zane, here.”
    “Hey, bud, this is Ben. Man, have you got a hot one.”
    Zane didn’t think he was going to like the news from the level of Ben’s excitement. “What have you got?”
    The sound of papers rustling came across the line and then Ben’s voice. “Her name is Angelina Farentino. She’s got a record.”
    A lead ball landed in the pit of Zane’s stomach.
    “Go on.”
    “She works for Mason Lorde, or she did work for him. Left under questionable circumstances is all I could find out without saying too much. He’s listed as one of the top twenty wealthiest men in the country.”  More papers shuffled and Ben mumbled to himself before he continued.
    “Lorde Industries is one of the largest import-export businesses on the east coast, but he also deals in rare art and collectibles.”
    Oh, yeah, the hits just keep on coming . Zane never took his eyes off of Angel. Watching her and listening to the rundown was tearing his insides apart.
    “What’s on her record?”  Zane knew by the way Angel straightened away from the railing that she’d heard him.
    “She did a year in a New York prison at eighteen for transporting drugs. Her father went down for the charge of dealing and she was busted as the mule.”
    Drugs. Of all the things she could have done, drugs fell way down on Zane’s forgive list after what he’d watched Trish go through.
    He was sure it couldn’t get any worse until Ben remembered one more thing.
    “Zane, buddy, you listening?”
    “I’m here.”
    “If you can’t turn her in, you need to get the hell away from her. She’s hot. The Feds are in serious pursuit of her, too. Hang on.”  Ben’s phone rattled against something solid like he’d laid it down.
    Zane stared at Angel. Her face had lost color on that one question about her record.
    Ben was back on the line. “Her fingerprint turned up on a photograph in the pocket of the guy they found in the dumpster in Raleigh. The one that’s been on the news. Turns out he was one of Mason Lorde’s employees. Worked for him for the last ten years.”
    Zane didn’t think he could take any more, but Ben hadn’t mentioned the coin.
    “Did you run the coin?”
    “Yeah. That’s a Saint-Gauden’s Double Eagle gold coin. Those aren’t easy to come by so I’m betting it came from that heist in Boston last month. I’m not sure yet, because a set of eight were stolen. One coin was a 1933 Double Eagle valued at over seven million. You don’t just find a buyer for these coins, because it’s not legal to even own that one coin. Takes a while to move them.”
    The other seven coins hidden on his boat confirmed Angel had been transporting stolen property. Had that been why she was hiding them? To buy time to find someone who could move them?
    “I’ll get back with you, Ben.” Zane dropped his phone on the nightstand at his right. He was at a loss for words. Did he start with “Why did you do it?” or go straight to “I have to call the police.”
    Like he could just make that decision on the spot?
    He’d made thousands of quick decisions, but his black and white world had turned gray with Angel. He’d rather take a bullet to the gut than see her arrested.
    Angel moved inside the glass doors. “Who are you , Zane Jackson ?” 
    He must have looked surprised, because she said, “I just learned that yesterday while you were gone.”
    Hell and damnation. Trish must have said something. He’d never considered the danger of leaving Trish and Angel alone.
    There was no point in continuing the pretense. He’d have to blow his cover to take her in to the authorities.
    “You’re right. My real name is Zane Jackson. I work with a special task force under the DEA.”
    She nodded slowly. “And that man, your friend Ben, he does, too?”
    Zane nodded, his throat getting thicker by the moment.
    Tears pooled at the corners of Angel’s eyes, killing him. The muscles in her throat moved when she swallowed. Her voice came out raspy with emotion. “So you know who I am and what my background is, or at least you think you know.”
    “I don’t know anything anymore,” he said, despair wrapping his words. “So, maybe the question is, just who are