The Angel and the Outlaw Read online

  And just like that, his own body responded. Blood surged into his groin so fast his mouth went dry. He imagined slipping his hands under that loose shirt, sliding his palms to her breasts, stroking his thumbs across those tight little nubs…

  What the hell was he thinking? He could control himself better than this, couldn’t he? He backed up to hitch one leg over the corner of the desk and strategically positioned the folder he still held across his lap.

  She yanked the neck of her sweatshirt into place to cover her shoulder. “That’s not the kind of information I offered to share, Cooper.”

  “Right.”

  “We might be partners, but what I wear or don’t wear is none of your business.”

  “Fine.”

  “If you got the wrong idea about the nature of our relationship because of the incident last week—”

  “The what?”

  “The kiss. It wasn’t intentional. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “Yeah, you made that pretty clear.”

  “Good. I don’t want things to get, uh…”

  “Hot?”

  “Awkward.”

  Awkward didn’t come close to describing what would happen if he did what he wanted to do to that drooping sweatshirt of hers with a roomful of cops looking on.

  He moved his gaze to the largest of the photographs that sat beside the lamp on the ledge at the back of the desk. It was Adam Tavistock. Judging by his crisp new uniform and the proud smile on his face, the picture must have been taken at least twenty years ago, shortly after he had joined the Latchford force. Adam was looking straight at the camera, so it seemed as if he was staring right at Cooper.

  That did the trick better than a cold shower.

  Cooper blew out a slow breath as the pressure in his jeans subsided. He used the folder to gesture toward the photograph. “Except for the blond hair, your brother didn’t look much like you.”

  There was a silence before she spoke. Her voice was strained. “I resemble our mother. He took after our father.”

  Cooper shifted his gaze to another photograph. Adam was in a football uniform this time. He stood in front of a set of bleachers that looked a lot like the ones behind Latchford High. An older man stood beside him, his arm around Adam’s shoulders. They were the same height, both had the same pale, slightly down-turned eyes and their long chins were almost identical.

  It was an old picture too, yet Ernie Tavistock was easy to recognize, even without his uniform. He’d been a high-profile police commissioner before his retirement. Rumor had it that Sproule had exerted pressure on his friends in the mayor’s office to force the senior Tavistock out so he could replace him with a cop he could buy.

  It wasn’t going to be easy to bring Oliver Sproule down. Cooper was going to need all the help he could get. It would be plain stupid to let his libido alienate Hayley when they had barely gotten started.

  Cooper returned his gaze to Hayley. She was staring past him to the picture of her brother and father.

  Usually he found her easy to read, but for once, he couldn’t identify her expression. It wasn’t exactly grief. It was closer to longing.

  It struck him then. There were no pictures of Hayley in the room. There were only pictures of cops like her father and Adam. Adam in high school. Adam at his graduation. Adam who would have been one hell of a tough act to follow.

  Hayley’s feelings for her family had to run deep—she was wearing herself out trying to avenge her brother’s murder—yet from the look of things, the Tavistock men hadn’t found time to take a snapshot of her.

  Damn, that had to hurt.

  Cooper had a sudden urge to pull her into his arms. It wasn’t from anything as simple as lust. It would have been easier if it was.

  She rubbed her palms briskly over her sleeves and looked away from the picture. “Most of what I’ve gathered is in the boxes on the floor.”

  He wrenched his gaze away from her and glanced down. Cardboard file boxes were lined up in a row in front of the nearest bookshelf.

  “The boxes are labeled by date,” she said. “There are newspaper clippings, a transcript of the trial and the notes I made of my conversations with the D.A. There’s also the report from the private detective I hired, but it doesn’t contain anything that I don’t already have.”

  He was impressed by the amount of work that must have gone into assembling the material. It was a lot of information by anyone’s standards. No wonder she didn’t sleep much.

  “You’re welcome to look through everything, but I’d prefer it if you leave the files here. I’ve taken seven months to put them together and they would be difficult to replace.”

  “Sure.”

  “Same with Adam’s notebook. It’s the only useful thing I found when I cleaned out his apartment. Aside from that, he didn’t bring his work home.” Hayley moved her chair aside and reached out to close the lid on her laptop. Although Cooper sat on the desk beside the computer, she was careful not to brush against him. “The file you’re holding contains some of the information I have on Latchford Marine.”

  Her scent distracted him. So did the lock of hair that had slid loose from her scarf and swung against her cheek. His hand itched to smooth the hair back, to feel it twine around his fingers….

  He flipped open the folder and scanned the first few pages.

  Latchford Marine was the town’s principal employer. It was an outboard motor assembly plant, run by Sproule as a money-laundering front for his more profitable businesses. Cooper already knew that much, but Hayley had added details to back it up. He couldn’t make much sense of the numbers, though.

  “They shut down one of the production lines last summer,” she continued as she repositioned her chair a yard away from the desk and sat down. She stacked her bare feet on one of the casters and tucked her fingertips under the outside of her thighs.

  He looked at her defensive posture. Was it because of him, or because of this room? “I remember. The layoffs hit the town hard. Business at the Long Shot was down twelve percent in August compared to the year before.”

  “Despite that, Sproule built a new warehouse on the Latchford Marine property.”

  “That’s right.”

  “They’re currently bringing in parts from overseas so they can restart the line.”

  He frowned. “That’s news to me.”

  “It doesn’t make sense from an economic viewpoint. I did a rough projection that showed the added transportation costs will mean they’ll be running at a serious deficit. I think this might be connected to what Adam uncovered. He circled the dates of the layoffs and the beginning of the warehouse construction in his notebook.”

  “I’ll have access to the new warehouse tomorrow night. It would be a good time to nose around a bit and see what’s going on.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “That’s when I officially start working with Oliver.”

  “What will you be doing?”

  He considered not telling her. It wasn’t a matter of trust—she had nothing to gain by double-crossing him. It couldn’t be a matter of conscience since he’d given her fair warning that things would get dirty.

  It was because of the expression he’d seen when she’d looked at that photo. That longing. That hopeless yearning to belong. It stirred something protective inside him…

  “Cooper?”

  Aw, hell. If he didn’t tell her, she might try something on her own again that would screw this up for both of them. He closed the folder, replaced it on the pile on the desk and got to his feet. “I’m going to steal a truck and hijack a shipment of TVs. Want to come?”

  Chapter 5

  Through the small, rain-streaked windows that flanked the bunk at the back of the truck cab, Hayley couldn’t see anything except one gray brick wall of the Hammond electronics plant, a chain-link fence at the edge of the floodlit yard and asphalt shining with puddles. Yet with her senses enhanced by anxiety, she was excruciatingly aware of everything that was takin
g place in the trailer behind her. Each scraping clank, each muffled thump, every whine of the electric forklift and thudding vibration of work boots on the metal floor meant another pallet of televisions was being loaded into the truck.

  Hayley backed away from the window, inching across the mattress until she reached the darkest corner of the bunk. Drawing her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs. Trying to calm her nerves, she focused on the sound of the rain on the cab roof instead of the noise from the trailer. Yet as the minutes dragged past, her worry grew.

  Any second now they would be found out. Someone on the loading bay would realize they were impostors and raise the alarm. Cooper would be caught. She would be discovered. Both of them would be arrested.

  If her brother was still alive and had worked in Hammond instead of Latchford, he could be the one to snap on the handcuffs. And if her father ever heard what she’d done, the shock could very well kill him.

  Why on earth had she agreed to this?

  She bit her lip, pressing her forehead to her knees. She knew very well why she had agreed. This was the first step in Cooper’s plan. It had seemed logical when he’d explained it to her yesterday. He’d claimed it would be simple, that there was zero risk of violence and no one would get hurt.

  She had insisted on being included. After all, she had said she would do anything to bring her brother’s murderer to justice, hadn’t she?

  This truckload of stolen goods would be Cooper’s passport into the Sproule organization. In addition, the sleeper compartment of this truck would provide the perfect means to smuggle her into the warehouse where she should be able to access one of the Latchford Marine computers. With any luck, in a matter of minutes she would be able to find out more than she had accomplished in months. That was too good an opportunity for her to pass up.

  There was a prolonged rattling clank from the back of the trailer, followed by two metallic thuds. Hayley shuddered and hugged her legs tighter. She had dressed in black jeans and a black cotton sweater. Cooper had said dark clothes would help her blend into the shadows once she got into the warehouse office—but her hands were shaking so badly now, she doubted whether she would be capable of working a keyboard even if she did make it that far.

  Footsteps approached the driver’s side of the truck. The cab rocked as the door opened. Hayley lifted her head in time to see the short curtain that separated the sleeping compartment from the front of the cab swing outward, letting in a gust of cold, damp air. Light showed at the edge of the fabric. The driver’s seat creaked.

  She held her breath and concentrated on remaining motionless. Oh, no. No. Please don’t look back here. Please—

  The door slammed shut, the light went out. An instant later, a familiar voice sliced through the darkness. “Hayley? Are you okay?”

  It was Cooper. Hayley exhaled on a rush of emotion. There was relief, but it was sharp and fast, only temporary—she knew this night was far from over. Yet tangled up with the relief, there was a quick stab of awareness, an involuntary surge of warmth at the sound of her name spoken in Cooper’s deep, rich tone.

  Awareness? Oh, Lord. Not now. Not him. “I’m fine,” she said, uncurling from her crouch. On her hands and knees she moved forward. “Is it done?”

  “So far, so good.” The engine turned over a few times, then caught with a deep rumble. “Better stay out of sight until we clear the yard.”

  The exhaust stacks on either side of the cab vibrated against their clamps. There was a hiss, a slight jar, and the truck started to roll forward. Hayley grasped the edge of the mattress to hold herself steady. The wheels splashed through the puddles, moving them toward the exit with agonizing slowness. Through one of the side windows she glimpsed two men walking toward a pair of parked cars. One man lifted his hand toward the truck. “Oh, no,” she said. “Cooper, what do you think he wants—”

  Before she could finish the question, two quick blasts of an air horn boomed through the truck.

  “He was saying thanks,” Cooper said. “I just told him ‘you’re welcome.’”

  Hayley craned her neck to watch as the yard fell behind them. The men got into their cars. Headlights blinked on. “He’s thanking you for stealing these televisions?”

  “They don’t know that. These guys are glad I got here early so they can go home. This was their last shipment of the day. Hang on, there’s a sharp right turn coming up.”

  Hayley braced herself as the truck swung onto the street that ran in front of the plant. She watched another long gray building slide past, a chemical plant, then another parking lot. They were traveling through an area of small and mid-size factories, the majority closed for the night. Hayley waited until they had turned a second corner and started to pick up speed before she parted the curtain and dipped her head to look out the front windshield.

  In a sense, the scene was eerily familiar. The steady beat of the wipers and the flaring circles of streetlights on the glass reminded Hayley of the night she had met Cooper. So did the kernel of hysteria in her stomach that she was trying her best to suppress.

  Only this time Cooper wasn’t driving his shiny black pickup, he was driving an eighteen-wheeler that bore the distinctive gray-and-white silhouetted wolf logo of the Pack Leader Express courier company.

  “This should be far enough,” Cooper said. “You can join me up front, unless you want to have a nap while you’re back there.”

  “I don’t always fall asleep, Cooper.” She swung her legs off the mattress, climbed down the steps from the sleeping compartment and dropped into her seat. Hunching her shoulders, she tucked her fingers under her thighs.

  Cooper brushed his hand down her arm. “Hey, relax. This was the easy part.”

  Beneath her light sweater, her skin tingled at his brief caress. The interior of the truck cab was big, yet she was vividly aware of Cooper’s presence. His scent. The way his thighs flexed as he moved his long legs to work the pedals…

  The awareness had to be partly due to anxiety—all her senses were enhanced—yet she knew his presence could make her heart race, no matter what they were doing. He was just that type of man. She leaned away from his touch. “I can’t believe they’re letting us drive away like this.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” He returned his hand to the gear-shift. “As far as the guys on the loading dock know, they were only doing their jobs.”

  She looked at him. He was wearing a ball cap pulled low over his eyes and a rain-spattered dark-gray jacket, both of which bore a patch with the Pack Leader Express wolf logo just like the truck.

  She’d had doubts that the ruse would work. It had seemed too simple. The load of televisions had been scheduled for pickup tonight—all Cooper had done was to show up in a courier truck half an hour early. “What’s going to happen when the real driver shows up looking for his load?” she asked.

  “By the time he gets there, the place will be locked up for the night. He’ll probably figure someone at the plant got the times mixed up.”

  She rocked forward so she could see the mirror that was mounted outside the passenger door. The curb stretched into darkness behind them. The only lights she saw were streetlights, not the flashing red of a police car. “But when the theft does get noticed, it’s going to be reported.”

  “No, it won’t, Hayley.”

  “Why not? There must be close to a quarter million dollars worth of goods in this truck.”

  “The owner isn’t going to go to the police. I guarantee it.”

  She returned her gaze to his face. In the sliding bars of light from the street lamps, his expression was difficult to distinguish. “I don’t understand this, Cooper. How can you be so sure?”

  He shifted gears, lining the truck up for the ramp that would take them to the Interstate. He didn’t look at her. His attention appeared to be completely focused on the task of keeping the heavy vehicle steady on the rain-slick pavement. It wasn’t until he had brought the truck up to speed and merged into the
traffic that he finally replied. “The main thing to keep in mind is that as far as Oliver is concerned, this truck and everything it’s carrying are stolen.”

  “What do you mean, ‘as far as he’s concerned’?”

  Cooper pulled off his ball cap and dropped it between the seats, then raked his hand through his hair. For the first time tonight, he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Technically, I haven’t really stolen anything.”

  Hayley looked pointedly at the telltale wires that hung under the dashboard. “How can you say that? I saw you break into this truck. I watched you twist those wires together to start it.”

  “I’m borrowing this truck.”

  “But—”

  “I hot-wired it to make it look like a theft so the man in the courier company who arranged to leave it at the rest stop where we picked it up won’t be held liable if something goes wrong, but he knows he’ll get it back when I’m through. He won’t report it stolen unless I don’t return it by the morning.”

  Hayley leaned forward to look in the rearview mirror again. She focused on the trailer rumbling behind them. “What about the televisions?”

  “I’m collecting them as payment on a loan.”

  “A loan? What kind of banker would…” Her words trailed off. She remembered what Cooper had said about bankers last week. She twisted on her seat to study him more closely. “Does this have something to do with that mobster you told me about who financed the Long Shot? Tony Monaco?”

  He gave her a sideways glance. The lines beside his mouth deepened. “Tony wouldn’t appreciate being called that. I told you, he got out of the business. He’s strictly legit now.” He hesitated. “Well, mostly.”

  She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. With everything else that had been happening, she had managed to put Cooper’s connection to that mob—no, former mob boss—to the back of her mind. Oh, God. What exactly was she mixed up in? She made a gesture with her hand for Cooper to continue.