THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

both. He’ll kill me, and anyone who helps me is in just as much danger. I couldn’t live with it if something happened to you because of me.”
    No one was going to kill her.
    Her distress was sincere. This hunted woman put his safety ahead of her own.
    It happened again. The lines between black and white blurred a little more.
    He’d always been the toughest kid in his class, never bested by an adversary from football to martial arts. He’d been his sister’s protector, his squadron’s leader and the first to race toward the enemy.
    No one had ever stood between him and a threat.
    He’d learned to defend himself at a young age both physically and emotionally with no one to rise to his defense. The depth of Angel’s concern pushed him into turbulent emotional territory, with no navigational charts.
    In the same breath she had refused to answer his questions, aggravating him beyond reason, then confused him with her selfless consideration for his safety.
    His world to this point had been simple.
    Everyone was primarily either good or bad. Guilty or innocent. Black or white with not a whole lot of gray.
    How was he going to figure out where Angel fit in that world?
    Not knowing was giving him hell.
    He had resources to call on who could help her, but he had to know she wasn’t in some kind of serious trouble with the law.
    Somehow, he doubted that would change her mind. “I need you to trust me.”
    She didn’t hurry to answer, a sign that she gave consideration to what she intended to say. “The funny thing is that I do trust you, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to put you in the middle of something you aren’t responsible for. The less you know, the better. I made a bad choice. Now I need to fix my mistake and I can’t guarantee this isn’t going to turn out badly.”
    Zane sighed. Convincing her to go to the police might be his best recourse after all. The longer he delayed, the higher her risk was of injury or capture by the wrong people. “Since this guy is so dangerous, why don’t you go to the police?”
    Her face turned guarded. “No. He, uh, has contacts everywhere. I can’t risk talking to the police.”
    “Even if I vouched for someone in law enforcement? There are laws to protect women from men who stalk and brutalize them, regardless of the circumstances. Especially when the guy tries to shoot you.”
    She shook her head. “It’s more complicated than being stalked.”
    There it was again. That bad feeling that she hid something not quite kosher. By the end of the day, he would have a fingerprint if he had to tie her down.
    She squinted her eyes at him then. “Why do you carry a gun in your truck, Zane?”
    “I have a permit to carry concealed. Not everybody you meet in the cargo business is nice.” Especially when the DEA asked him to take contracts with less than savory characters at times. A frown furrowed her brow. Please don’t press that point. Zane’s cell phone rang in the distance. Saved by the jingle. “Don’t move.”  He retrieved the phone. His pulse jumped when he recognized the High Vision dispatch number.
    This was the call he’d been waiting on.
    What was he going to do with Angel if he had to fly out?
    Zane stood where he could watch her from the doorway while he answered out of her hearing.
    “Black here,” Zane said.
    Samuel Ritter’s familiar voice started issuing instructions, as usual. “You’ve got a pickup at Bentley Field near St. Simons Island in south Georgia for High Vision this afternoon. Has to arrive in Ft. Lauderdale in time for a transfer to Miami by 1900. A High Vision representative will meet you at Sunshine Airfield when you return.”
    That wasn’t the location or shipment Zane expected. “I didn’t think your company had a branch there.”  Plus Zane had never brought any of their cargo shipments back to Sunshine Field.
    “We don’t. The chief financial officer has a home on St. Simon’s Island,” Sammy clarified. “This shipment is specifically for him.”
    Damn. Flying something for the CFO was a positive sign. And a test, he’d bet. He didn’t care as long as they gave him the cargo contract. Zane checked the clock on the microwave. Making the run was no problem, but he couldn’t leave Angel alone.
    “I can be there by one o’clock. What can you tell me about the load?” 
    “All I’ve been told is it’s a high-priority shipment from the CFO’s wife, something personal. They’ll let you inspect the