Mrs. Sweet glanced toward him and smiled. “I’llberight there.” She looked at Angie one last time. “Thank you.”
The woman vanished into the crowd, leaving Angie angry with her client and her sister for putting her in such a situation. She punched the down button, and when the elevator didn’t instantly open, she pressed it several more times as if the machine would sense her frustration and hurry.
“So, it’s Angie Carlson.” The smooth voice had her spine stiffening so sharply that she thought it might snap. Connor Donovan.
“Mr. Donovan, what rock did you crawl out from?”
Chapter 12
Thursday, October 6, 12:30 P.M.
Donovan moved beside Angie, so close she could feel the heat of his shoulder as it nearly brushed hers. “Mr. Donovan? Angie, after all we shared … call me Connor.”
When she’d discovered he’d used her so badly, she’d tried to brush the rejection off and tell herself it didn’t matter. But the wound he’d inflicted had been slow to heal. And there were still days when she feared she’d never really open up to a man again.
“I could call you asshole. Dickhead? How do they sound?” She met his gaze as if leveling the barrel of a shotgun.
His stare didn’t waver. “You have a right to be pissed. I get that. I was a dick.”
“So we can agree on something.”
His grin waned. “Look, Angie, I saw you here today, and I wanted to come over and apologize. I’ve had a chance to rethink a lot of things in the last year, and what I did to you, well, was wrong.”
She’d done things she regretted, and those regrets were part of the reason she was here today. But she suspected Donovan didn’t care about right and wrong. “Beat it.”
“Ah, come on, Angie. Can’t we get a drink?”
The elevator dinged, but a quick glance told her it was stuck on the floor above, forcing her to stand and wait with him. She considered the steps but refused to run from this jerk. “Go away, Donovan. Find another rock to crawl under.”
His easy veneer melted, and something harder and colder appeared. “You can’t cry foul. You are a user just like me. You do what you need to do to win. I’m no different.”
She cleared her throat. “This is not the time or the place.”
“It’s as good as any.”
“Drop dead.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been perched on your self-made pedestal for so long you’ve forgotten you are a muckraker just like me. Let’s face it, sweetie—your talent for nasty is as honed as mine.”
Color rose in her cheeks. “Do you have a point to make, Mr. Donovan? I’ve got work to do.”
“Don’t we all.”
The elevator doors dinged open. To her dismay it was packed. The doors closed.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “Don’t you have something more entertaining to do like pulling the wings off of flies?”
“I’m here about your client.”
“I don’t talk about my clients.”
He leaned toward her. His aftershave reached out to her … it was the same brand. Armani. When he’d first touched her, she’d savored the scent like an aphrodisiac. Now it made her sick. “Not even the dead ones?”
A bitter taste settled in her mouth. “Ah, you are here to use me again.”
“I came to ask questions.”
“Wrapped in sweet apologies.”
“So?”
“No comment.”
“You have no idea who would want to kill such a lovely young woman?”
She glanced at the elevator buttons above the door. It held on the floor above for what seemed like forever. Forget it. She pushed past Donovan with as much force as she could muster and headed down the hallway through the crowds toward the stairs. She’d just reached the door to the stairwell when long fingers wrapped around her arm.
“Don’t walk away from me.” The anger in Donovan’s voice had her readying for a fight as she turned.
“Get your hands off me.” She tried to jerk free, but he held firm.
“Not until you tell me about Sierra Day. What do you know about her?”
Again, she tried to wrench free. “Let me go or I will scream so loud that every deputy in this building will come running. And then you can explain why you were roughing up an officer of the court.” She drew in a breath, fully intending to scream.
He dropped his hand but didn’t move away. He whitewashed his anger with a grin. “Ah, come on for old time’s sake. Tell me what you got on Sierra?”
“Prick.”
The brutally delivered words hit their mark, and the normally iron-skinned Donovan flinched. “Bitch.”
The lame comeback made her laugh. “If that is the best you’ve got then I am not impressed.”
He leaned toward her and said in a voice only she could hear, “The only reason I fucked you was because you were so goddammed pathetic. Like throwing a bone to a starving dog.”
The words pierced the shell she so carefully nurtured and sliced into her heart. Emotion welled up so fast and furious in her throat that it left her breathless.
“There a problem here?” The deep male voice cut through the tension.
Angie glanced over to see Detective Kier. She had never been happier to see the man.
Kier wore a blue sport coat, red tie, and white shirt that could have used an iron. Clean-shaven with his hair neatly combed, he could have passed for civilized if not for the menacing expression on his face.
As much as she didn’t want help from Kier, getting rid of Donovan ranked higher on the priority list. “Donovan doesn’t understand that no means no.”
Donovan muttered something under his breath and stepped back. Though he stood a little taller than the detective, Kier, with his muscular build, looked as if he could make quick work of any challenge that Donovan offered.
“I was just asking her a few questions about Sierra Day.”
Kier rested his hand on his hip, letting his gun peek out from the folds of his jacket. “From what I heard she declined to answer.”
Donovan masked any outward annoyance with a shrug. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t push her for an answer.”
Kier grinned. “And I wouldn’t be doing mine if I didn’t tell you to back off.” His gaze never wavered from Donovan. “Frankly, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to arrest you.”
“On what charge?”
The moment’s diversion gave Angie the time she needed to recover her breath and footing. “Harassment. Battery. Unlawful detention. I’m sure if you gave me a few more minutes I could come up with more charges.”
Donovan glared at her. “That would never stick.”
“Maybe. Maybe, not. But I could create a hell of a legal mess.”
Donovan’s lips flattened. “We’ll catch up later, Angie.”
“I don’t think so.”
He winked at her. “Count on it.”
She tightened her hand on her briefcase handle. “Then count on charges being filed against you.”
“We’ll see.” The reporter darted down the staircase.
For several heartbeats she stood rigid, unmoving, waiting for Donovan to return. Then, certain he’d truly left, she faced Kier. Now he was looking at her with a gaze not so consumed with fury but worry.
Her cheeks flushed. “If you say one comforting word to me, Detective, I’ll sock you.”
His throaty chuckle caught her off guard. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, what would be the point? I’ve heard vampires can’t be hurt. No heart.”
Without missing a beat she said, “With no blood to pump through our veins, a heart is just extra baggage.”
Whatever concern had been in Kier’s gaze thankfully vanished. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He could have just turned and vanished into the crowd, but he lingered a beat.
It was enough time for her to drop her guard for just an instant and say, “Thanks. Donovan was more persistent than I’d imagined.”
“Give me a reason, Carlson, and I’ll haul him to jail.”