little puttana has taken a liking to ending people's lives."
Angela studied the instruction booklet another minute until she figured out how to put the conversation on speaker. Once she was sure it was still recording, she stood, suddenly antsy and impatient. She pulled the curtains back from the sliding glass doors and stared out at Lake Michigan. It was one hell of a breathtaking view but not one she appreciated at the moment. Mario also knew Jake was here. How did he know? Did Mario have eyes in the lobby? It wouldn't surprise her a bit if he did. Was Jake the only one in Chicago, or had his entire family come out here? Either way, there was a mark on his head.
Angela turned away from the panoramic view out her window and stared at the small black box. Mario had said the private investigator went to California and hired King to take him down. Was he talking about her father?
"Dad," she whispered, hurrying to her purse and pulling out her personal cell phone. The track phone she'd bought to use while undercover was next to it in her purse. She checked her personal cell, noting the missed call from her father and that he'd tried calling over an hour ago. Angela had her phone on Silent, which her father knew. They'd also agreed, until the case was over he wouldn't leave voice-mail messages. She cleared the missed call and put in a call to her father.
Staying close to the black box on the table, she studied it as she listened to her father's phone ring. Even though the conversations would be recorded, Angela wanted to know immediately if crucial information was revealed. When the call went to voice mail she hung up and put her phone on her bed next to her purse.
Mario wasn't talking at the moment and Angela rewound the recorded conversation and hit Play.
He did say the private investigator went to California and hired King. Mario hadn't said "a private investigator" but "that fucking private investigator." And he didn't say "Kings," or "the King family." He'd said "King," as in one person.
The image of Jake standing in the lobby, staring at her and offering her a final salute, appeared in her mind again. Immediately her insides tightened. As much as she was dying to know if her father had hired Jake and brought him out here to help her, at the same time Angela wasn't sure she wanted to talk to her father about Jake. Possibly it was leaving her mom when she was sixteen and moving in with her father, all of her teenage rebellion already focused on her mother, that had allowed Angela to build such a strong friendship and alliance with her dad. For whatever reasons, she and her dad were very close. She couldn't remember him ever yelling at her the way her mother had or treating Angela like a child. The bond she and her father had was based on love, respect, and sheer enjoyment of each other's company.
A year ago Angela hadn't given a thought when she'd shared the events of her evening with Jake with her father. They'd been in the middle of a case, hot on the pursuit of Marty Byrd. When she'd told her dad how she'd shared some crucial information with Jake, her father had immediately accused Angela of being infatuated with the man. Other daughters might have disputed such a charge, but Angela and her father had discussed her feelings, Jake's character, and the kind of man that would make Angela the happiest. The conversation was quickly forgotten the next day when they learned what Jake did with the information Angela gave him.
Jake had messed up her plan for attack a year ago. The second she had let him know where Marty Bird was, Jake and his family had hurried down there and blown up the damn mansion. All chances of learning anything about the game had been shot to hell. Her father knew how Jake screwed everything up for them. Would her dad seek Jake out again, in spite of what Angela had told him, to help Angela and be her backup?
"Damn it," she hissed, and dragged her fingers through her hair, tangling it and
Angela studied the instruction booklet another minute until she figured out how to put the conversation on speaker. Once she was sure it was still recording, she stood, suddenly antsy and impatient. She pulled the curtains back from the sliding glass doors and stared out at Lake Michigan. It was one hell of a breathtaking view but not one she appreciated at the moment. Mario also knew Jake was here. How did he know? Did Mario have eyes in the lobby? It wouldn't surprise her a bit if he did. Was Jake the only one in Chicago, or had his entire family come out here? Either way, there was a mark on his head.
Angela turned away from the panoramic view out her window and stared at the small black box. Mario had said the private investigator went to California and hired King to take him down. Was he talking about her father?
"Dad," she whispered, hurrying to her purse and pulling out her personal cell phone. The track phone she'd bought to use while undercover was next to it in her purse. She checked her personal cell, noting the missed call from her father and that he'd tried calling over an hour ago. Angela had her phone on Silent, which her father knew. They'd also agreed, until the case was over he wouldn't leave voice-mail messages. She cleared the missed call and put in a call to her father.
Staying close to the black box on the table, she studied it as she listened to her father's phone ring. Even though the conversations would be recorded, Angela wanted to know immediately if crucial information was revealed. When the call went to voice mail she hung up and put her phone on her bed next to her purse.
Mario wasn't talking at the moment and Angela rewound the recorded conversation and hit Play.
He did say the private investigator went to California and hired King. Mario hadn't said "a private investigator" but "that fucking private investigator." And he didn't say "Kings," or "the King family." He'd said "King," as in one person.
The image of Jake standing in the lobby, staring at her and offering her a final salute, appeared in her mind again. Immediately her insides tightened. As much as she was dying to know if her father had hired Jake and brought him out here to help her, at the same time Angela wasn't sure she wanted to talk to her father about Jake. Possibly it was leaving her mom when she was sixteen and moving in with her father, all of her teenage rebellion already focused on her mother, that had allowed Angela to build such a strong friendship and alliance with her dad. For whatever reasons, she and her dad were very close. She couldn't remember him ever yelling at her the way her mother had or treating Angela like a child. The bond she and her father had was based on love, respect, and sheer enjoyment of each other's company.
A year ago Angela hadn't given a thought when she'd shared the events of her evening with Jake with her father. They'd been in the middle of a case, hot on the pursuit of Marty Byrd. When she'd told her dad how she'd shared some crucial information with Jake, her father had immediately accused Angela of being infatuated with the man. Other daughters might have disputed such a charge, but Angela and her father had discussed her feelings, Jake's character, and the kind of man that would make Angela the happiest. The conversation was quickly forgotten the next day when they learned what Jake did with the information Angela gave him.
Jake had messed up her plan for attack a year ago. The second she had let him know where Marty Bird was, Jake and his family had hurried down there and blown up the damn mansion. All chances of learning anything about the game had been shot to hell. Her father knew how Jake screwed everything up for them. Would her dad seek Jake out again, in spite of what Angela had told him, to help Angela and be her backup?
"Damn it," she hissed, and dragged her fingers through her hair, tangling it and
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