THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

whitewashed, single-story office building that served as the terminal, he slowed to speak with a leather-faced elderly man who stepped from the office door.
    Rolling down the window on his truck, Zane forced civility back into his tone. He liked the old guy and managed to smile when he called out, “ Hola, Salvador .”
    Salvador’s sole purpose in life these days was to make coffee in the airfield office and offer a game of checkers to anyone willing to be beaten by the wily opponent. Long since retired from managing the terminal, he was unwilling to abandon the airport entirely.
    “ Buenos dias, Señor Jackson .”
    Zane chatted amiably in Spanish with Salvador about the airport activities of the past few weeks. Zane kept his language skills sharp though he used them sparingly. It was amazing what someone would say when they thought you couldn’t understand their language. Vance and Ben had made good use of a few tidbits Zane had gotten in just that way.
    Talking to Salvador reminded him he would be in hot water with Suarez, a client waiting on two packages. In a hurry to get the cup with Angel’s print back to Ben, Zane had stayed in Jacksonville only long enough to pick up Suarez’s first package when he learned the second one had been delayed in customs.
    Suarez had been more trouble than the money was worth and every shipment turned into a pain in the ass, but he was a client and Zane tried his best to make the man happy.
    With a nod goodbye, Zane moved on to the last building. The overhead door to his hangar stood wide-open, allowing access to anyone, but he had no worries. His mechanic was bent over the Titan, working neck-deep on the scheduled service required before Zane could fly again.
    As he strolled by, the mechanic had his head down looking for something and talking ... to himself? No, he had a Bluetooth receiver hooked on his ear. He lifted a finger off his flashlight in acknowledgement and turned as though to stop what he was doing. Zane waved him off and headed through the hangar and down a short hall to the storage room. He needed a stack of rags to replace the ones he’d used cleaning up the damn fingerprint powder yesterday.
    Just as he reached for the door, a crinkling sound on the other side stayed his hand. Had a cat or raccoon gotten in there? A cat wasn’t a problem, but he wanted no part of a cornered raccoon.
    Rotating the handle slowly, he eased the door ajar and peered inside.
    No wild animal. At least he didn’t think so.
    A fine-looking derriere, covered by a pair of faded jeans, was stuck up in the air in full view.
    Bent over at the waist, the denim-clad owner inspected a large package on the floor.
    Zane’s gaze skimmed down to the yellow running shoes.
    It couldn’t be.
     
    Chapter 11
     
    Where is that blasted package?
    Angel leaned down to read the label on another odd-shaped box. Assorted shipping containers and mechanical parts covered every inch of the disorganized storage room from cluttered floor space to packed shelves.
    None were addressed to the Gulf Winds Marina.
    She lifted her hands to her hips as she straightened up.
    Iron fingers locked around her wrists, snatching her hands behind her.
    “Oh, oh ... no.”  She wrenched around to see who held her prisoner and came face-to-face with the pilot who’d saved her. Staring up into his narrowed gaze, every coherent thought fled her mind.
    “Nice to see you again, Angel.”  Rich brown eyes walked up and down her. He’d said her name with just enough edge to sound mocking as if he’d just figured out she was anything but. “The Annie Hall look’s different. Incognito?” 
    His warm demeanor from the day before was gone. His eyes now flashed stormy-dark. Just as angry looking as he sounded.
    She dropped her head down and her shoulders slumped from relief. He didn’t appear happy to see her again, but at least he didn’t sound as though he wanted to kill her.
    Twisting around for a second glance, Angel realized she might need to revise her first impression. She was neck deep in trouble with him. They hadn’t parted in the best of circumstances. Getting back into his good graces as quickly as possible was her first mission.
    “Hi. How are you?”  She lifted her eyebrows up, reaching for hopeful in her voice.
    “How am I? As in, was the flight back smooth? Or as in, how did I get away from your buddy?”
    “I’m sorry about that,” she whispered. What had Vic done after she’d left? It dawned on