Chances Are - By Christy Reece Page 0,81

Jake had been exhausted. His plan was to give McCall a brief report of the successful op and then go looking for Angela. He’d been so tired that the only thing keeping him from keeling over was the need to see her and get everything out in the open. It had been simmering in him for weeks.

Despite his exhaustion, when he’d heard Cavanaugh’s request, he had been about to offer his help. Even though he wanted to get the confrontation with Angela over as soon as possible, his duty to LCR overrode his personal needs. The instant he’d learned who one of the operatives in danger was, his offer became something else. Nothing could have stopped him from joining the op.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I don’t think Gardon will be calling on LCR again.”

“So what went down inside?” Angela said.

Thorne, who usually had a semi-pleasant expression on his face, looked pissed as he said, “When we got inside, we were greeted by Rupert’s friends. They were all wearing the same outfit—AK-47s.”

“It’s a wonder they didn’t shoot you as soon as they saw you,” Angela said.

Thorne grinned, his grim expression replaced with his usual humor. “Yeah, well, just cause the idiots had the weapons didn’t mean they knew how to use them. We got two of them disarmed quick.” The grin disappeared as he added. “The other one got off a few rounds before we could neutralize him. That’s when Gardon forced his wife out of the house.”

And Jake would never forget what happened next. Seeing Angela in that kind of danger was the stuff of nightmares. But damn if she hadn’t handled herself like a pro.

He’d had a month to think about what he’d done and now, nothing was going to stop him from saying what he needed to say. Problem was, did she want to hear it? Other than her initial “What are you doing here?” Angela hadn’t spoken to him, had barely even looked at him. Was he too late? Had he fucked it up so bad, he couldn’t fix it?

No, he refused to believe that. She’d damn well listen to him…she had to.

Cavanaugh took a long swallow from his beer and stood. “I’m headed to my room for some shuteye. The plane leaves at 0700.” He shot a glance at Thorne. “You coming?”

His gaze going from Jake to Angela, he slumped back in his chair with a lazy grin. “Nah. Think I’ll stay a while longer.”

The grin turned to a painful grimace when Cavanaugh’s hand landed hard on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Thorne.”

Jake threw Cavanaugh a grateful smile while Thorne winked at them both and got up. “Come to think of it, I am kind of sleepy.”

The two men disappeared out the door, leaving Jake and Angela alone at last. Unsure how to start, he cleared his throat. He’d never been one for declarations so dammed if he could figure out the exact words he wanted to say, especially about something this important. After having had weeks to think about it, one would think he’d have a whole speech prepared. But instead of spilling his guts, he heard himself say, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Completely fit. I think the scars on my feet will completely fade with time.”

“That’s good.”

Hell, he felt like he had sawdust in his mouth. Swallowing, he was about to say something hopefully meaningful when she gave him unexpected news.

“Delacourte’s dead.”

“What happened?”

“Someone got to him in jail. The theory is that a relative of one of the victims paid to have him killed.”

“The world’s a better place without him.”

“I agree.” She looked down at her hands, a clear indication that she was uncomfortable.

Jake cleared his throat. “Can we go somewhere and talk privately?”

She looked around. “This isn’t private?”

“Not the kind I’m going to need.”

“I see.” She grabbed her purse and slid off her stool. “We can go to my hotel room.”

Angela watched as Jake shoved his chair back and threw money down for their tab. Why was he here? The moment she had seen him, all she could think about was throwing herself into his arms. If Beatrice Gardon hadn’t had dynamite strapped to her body, that’s exactly what she would have done.

Was he going to try to talk her out of being an operative again? She was tired and vulnerable tonight. If he asked, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t at least tell him she would think about it just to have him hold her again. Angela hated that she was so weak but