THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

that he’d offered her a position in his warehouse.
    And she’d been his best employee, busting her butt above and beyond in every aspect of her job.
    How could he have misjudged her so badly? He’d been certain she’d play ball once he brought her into the secret side of his international organization. Who’d have expected an ex-con to possess an honest streak?
    Mason asked, “What’s next?”
    “Just got the background on that pilot who picked her up.”
    “Vic said the guy didn’t know anything about her.”
    “Could be, but he flies out of a Ft. Lauderdale airfield.”
    Mason considered everything. “You think they’re working together?”
    “Hard to imagine, based on her info in the file you gave me. The pilot checks out like Mr. Clean, nothing to indicate any connection between those two or between him and you. But she probably found out where he lives or at least where he keeps his plane.”
    “And the little bitch went running down there looking for a shoulder to cry on and a place to hide,” Mason thought out loud.
    “Want the pilot picked up?”
    “Not yet.”  Mason hadn’t reached this point in his life by allowing anyone to intimidate him, but that fucking Czarion had warned him against drawing the attention of law enforcement. “Find her and put a tail on the pilot. Grab her the minute you can, but catch her alone. I want her by Saturday and without drawing attention. Call me as soon as you have her. Do whatever it takes, but make sure she’s alive.” 
    “Will do.”  The connection ended.
    When the time came to end Angelina’s life, Mason wanted that privilege. He just hoped he hadn’t given CK too much leeway with capturing her. CK could stretch the meaning of “do whatever it takes.”  The downside of dealing with this bounty hunter was his rumored sex binges.
    Mason had wanted Angelina from the minute she’d walked into his warehouse and would have enjoyed her at his compound the first time he’d visited her here if not for her ill-advised attempt to flee. He’d been forced to teach her humility, then wait on her recovery.
    Silly twit. She’d been useless for days after that, unconscious most of the time. When he found her this time, he’d bring her to heel, but with restraint. He wanted her fully aware and pleading for mercy when he took her.
    Just as soon as he had the coins in hand and Czarion off his back. She’d pay for that, too.
    No one humiliated Mason and lived.
     
    Chapter 17
     
    Angel struggled, her feet wouldn’t move. Couldn’t run.
    She came awake with a start and pushed up on her elbows.
    No men with guns. No dogs. No Mason.
    Her feet were tangled in a sheet. She fell back against the gigantic bed, smelling Zane as if he slept next to her.
    She missed him. No reason to miss someone she shouldn’t even be hanging around, but she did and had awakened an hour ago searching the room for him before crashing back to sleep.
    Shouldn’t have fallen back asleep and opened the door to nightmares.
    Mason’s ice-blue eyes had seemed so real her skin still crawled at the thought of him touching her. She shook it off and climbed out of the gigantic bed, stretching her stiff muscles. The room felt big and protective, like Zane. A framed photo on a teak chest across the room caught her eye. Using the tail of her T-shirt as a barrier against touching the frame, she carried the photo to the window.
    She angled the picture under the light. A much younger Zane hugged a teenage Trish who was dressed in a graduation gown. Pride burst through his wide grin. The man was seriously hot without the smile, but add that and his desirability stock went up triple.
    Trish had been blessed with the devotion of an older brother.
    What would it have been like to grow up with a strong, protective male watching over her?
    All Angel could credit her father with was feeding and clothing her and her mother. He’d been more a stranger than a parent. She’d never questioned his late night security work. Not until a detective had snapped handcuffs on her wrists, then charged her with delivering drugs for her father.
    She’d received a crash course in the world behind bars.
    Honesty had always been her policy – a trait learned at her mother’s knee long before alcohol had changed that – but the detective had taught Angel the fallacy in being forthright. She’d spilled everything, answering every inquiry he put to her in the interrogation room. She’d been sure she’d walk