THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

he’d say how he’d wanted to give her a second chance, thought she’d changed her ways since being released from prison. Felt sorry for her when she came to him looking for a job, but couldn’t resist when she stripped in front of him, then threw herself at him.
    He was a guy, after all. He’d bow his head in fake shame over his one weakness.
    Everyone would turn suspicious eyes on Angel at that point.
    Then Zane would get involved and try to convince the FBI that Mason was lying because Zane had met her when she escaped Mason.
    By the time the FBI went to the airfield to corroborate that, anyone who’d been around that night would be gone or dead. More innocent lives on her conscience.
    It would continue to spiral out of control until Angel ended up in prison and Zane was accused of helping her, maybe landing in prison, too. Or dead, which was a more realistic possibility.
    A possibility she could not let happen.
    No, she would keep him out of this and get the heck away from him as soon as she could do it when he wouldn’t be able to follow. She’d panicked and run here as the only safe place she knew, but nowhere she stayed was safe.
    If she hadn’t promised not to leave tonight, she’d be gone now.
    Grabbing the T-shirt, she stalked into the bathroom and cranked the shower lever to one degree below lobster-boiling temperature. The scalding water charged over her screaming muscles, drawing out the tension.
    Showering at any opportunity, and alone, was a luxury she never took for granted and rarely passed up.
    Refreshed, she dried her hair quickly before relaxing on the leather sofa. She started to wipe everything down, but she’d been forgetting around Zane, a couple of times. And why should she continue with her habitual cleaning here at Zane’s apartment?
    It wasn’t as though a pilot would care if she left a fingerprint, or would have reason to watch for them.
    Finding the television remote, she flipped channels until local news crawled across the screen. A perky anchorwoman shared the latest stock market concerns and weather before moving to national interests.
    Angel had curled up against the wide armrest of the sofa and almost drifted off to sleep when a news report broke through her slumber.
    “The body found in a dumpster near Raleigh, North Carolina has been identified as Jeff Jurnowski,” the news anchor announced. “Initial report on cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head. The police have several leads, but are not discussing those at this time.”
    She sat up, paralyzed by the words.
    That was Mason’s former employee, Jeff. With the bullet hole in the head Mason had put there to teach her a lesson.
    Jeff had been nice to her, even showing her a picture of his pet Beagle. He’d worked on the wrong side of the law, but no one deserved to be murdered in cold blood.
    The news report rattled her. Mason wasn’t stupid. Jeff had been shot just days before her escape. His body hadn’t just disappeared and shown up in a dumpster by mistake. Not when Mason could make use of it. What was Mason up to?
    Her hands trembled when she lifted the remote to click up the volume.
    The news anchor finished with, “The authorities are running fingerprints found on the man’s possessions. His employer, Mason Lorde, has issued a statement of the company’s sympathy over the loss of a respected employee. Lorde went on to say he will aid the police in any way and alluded to a female employee who went missing around the time of Jurnowski’s death. Police refused to comment on whether the female is a suspect in the case, but said they are working all possible angles. They are not releasing her name at this time.”
    Angel’s mouth fell open. ...authorities are running fingerprints found on the man’s possessions. She’d touched the photo of Jeff’s dog.
    Mason intended to hang Jeff’s murder on her.
     
    Chapter 29
     
    Zane shuffled through the front door with Trish and a pizza. His sister’s glum face and quiet countenance were a result of his own discontent.
    He’d decided to bring her home rather than spend two hours on the road delivering her to the house she shared with Heidi. Worry about Angel slipping away had driven that decision.
    Women would put him in an early grave.
    “Sorry to screw up your evening,” Trish whispered with a slur. The anguish in her upturned face told him he’d hit a nerve with his black mood.
    The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his sister, especially in