THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

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 where he stood. And the compass was dead-on. That meant the thing was non-magnetic. Probably made of solid gold.
    Damned expensive paperweight.
    What was this thing doing in his aircraft?
    There was only one reason for a compass to end up lost in his airplane last night. A passenger had lost it.
    And he’d carried only one passenger in months.
    Angel.
    Zane grinned at this break. Lifting a print from the pebbled surface was beyond his skill level, but if he could convince Ben to do a little overtime, the genius print matcher would have an identity for him by Thursday morning.
     
    Chapter 8
     
    Mason assessed each of the six men standing in a line on the back lawn of his property. Long shadows stretched from the trees behind them as if the setting sun wanted to point out each one responsible for the fury burning his scalp.
    Someone needed killing.
    It was beyond the pale that these men had lost Angelina. He hired the best when it came to security for a reason. Jeff had been the exception and he’d been around for a long time. He’d been loyal, certainly.
    But he’d outlived his usefulness.
    Jeff should have been able to keep Angelina contained.
    And yet in hindsight, Mason could understand Jeff’s screwing up.
    But these men?
    Ten armed and dangerous guards, including these six, had allowed one woman to escape.
    He couldn’t tolerate ineptness and every one of these men knew it. But now was not the time to vent his frustration. Now was the time for results. The best way to get what he wanted was to offer an incentive. “Kenner will go over the plan when we’re through here. I want Angelina back. I’ll award a half million dollars to the man who brings her in alive and with the eight coins she stole from me.”
    A pittance compared to what those coins – and vengeance – were worth.
    Six sets of eyes stared back with cold confidence.
    Kenner ordered the men to meet him in the guard quarters. Once they dispersed, Kenner told Mason, “We need a tracker.”
    “Agreed.”  Mason had men in Jacksonville checking every way out of the city by public or mass transportation. “Get a list of the best who can be discreet. I’ll be in my office.” 
    When he walked into the office in his private estate outside of Raleigh, he eyed the glass case where he’d placed the coins. He’d been certain that Angelina believed him when he told her he had eye witnesses willing to testify that she was seen leaving the museum at the time of the coin