THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

You’d think it was the crown prince of Europe with all the security that showed up.”
    That didn’t sound right. “Supposed to be cargo, not a passenger.”
    “Depends on how you look at it. You’re the limo ride for a little white mutt headed to Miami for a weekend of R&R with his four-legged lady.”
    Zane flipped through his memory bank on the corporate management of High Vision. Their CFO and his wife raised champion Bichon Frise dogs, including a stud worth more than a lot of people earned in a year. He understood the lack of information when Sammy had called Zane about this load. The CFO was worried about the animal being stolen during transport.
    Now he put it all together. “Don’t tell me TAF’s waiting for me.”
    “Okay, I won’t. I hate being the bearer of bad news.”
    Damn, it was TAF, the moniker for Treat Animals Fairly. A bunch of PETA wannabes that caused more trouble than good. “Just my luck. See you in a few.”
    “Not me, flyboy. I just bought a new bass rig with a hot Mercury outboard. I’ll be on the water by sunset. Catch you next time.”
    No wonder the High Vision CFO had kept the identity of the cargo secret. In addition to assuring his wife’s prize show dog was safe, the CFO wanted to avoid any media when it came to TAF, which was always negative.
    Obviously, TAF had better intel than anyone realized.
    This bunch did not want to cross him, not with Zane so close to signing a contract with High Vision.
    He always went for a smooth landing, but he outdid himself on this one. Angel didn’t say a word, but her eyebrow lifted just enough to tell him she’d noticed. At the terminal side of the runway, Zane swung off and parked on the ramp then took in the waiting congregation.
    Two elderly women, linked arm-in-arm, were dressed in matching flowered, short-sleeve dresses that fell midway of their chunky calves. Black ankle-high boots complemented their military-style buzz cuts.
    A wiry little man held down his dirt-brown hat against the wind swiftly kicking up dust. Standing next to him was a middle-aged, flame-haired woman and a short man almost as wide as he was tall. Sunshine glinted off of the thin brown hair covering his basketball-shaped head.
    Zane unbuckled his seatbelt and slipped out of the cockpit. When he opened the cargo door to step down, loose sand blasted his face in a rush of burning air. A hand pushed against his back and he turned to find Angel climbing out.
    “What are you doing out here?” he asked.
    “I’m your translator, remember?”  She didn’t even try to hide the smile that came along with the sarcasm. “If you handle this group anything like you did Mr. Suarez, you’ll be lucky to stay in business through next week.” 
    Feisty thing. Keeping her within reach might not be a bad idea. “Stay close to me. This bunch can be a roaring pain.”
    Zane stepped past the nose of the plane and the odd group advanced several feet. The skinny guy fighting to keep a crinkled hat on his head cleared his throat and spoke.
    “I’m Earnest Earwood. We represent TAF, which stands for Treat Animals Fairly.”  Each word tumbled from his mouth like a telegraph operator reading a message. “We’re here to protest your part in the mistreatment of animals.”
    One of the two gray-haired women standing with their arms linked spoke up. “I’m Berta Nielson and this is my sister, Valerie.” 
    Valerie jumped in. “We don’t think these poor animals should be put through pain and suffering.” 
    Berta pointed at Zane. “How would you like to be faced with the same future?”
    The dog was headed for a weekend of rousing sex with a ready and able partner.
    Zane would love it. He smiled. “I could tolerate it.”
    Valerie’s faced screwed into the shape of a dishrag after heavy use. “That’s appalling. What kind of man are you?”
    One that hasn’t been with a woman in way too damn long , Zane thought remorsefully. “You don’t think my cargo deserves to be used in an experiment?”  He was trying hard not to chuckle.
    Angel arched an eyebrow at him.
    “No animal should be put through that kind of suffering.”  The redhead had a high-pitched voice, painful to hear. “We’re the Thorntons and we’ve spent our lives protecting animals.” 
    Most of the critical laboratory shipments for High Vision were handled in the middle of the night, just to avoid TAF groups showing up to protest. This disorganized association was composed of radical