Chapter 8
Monty pulled through the security gate at Jack’s and made his way toward the house. During the drive, his mind had been filled with the irritating, frustrating, maddening, and absolutely distracting Angel Cartwright. He tried to tell himself the gentle kiss he gave her meant nothing, but Damn, if that isn’t driving me to distraction!
Arriving at the house, he met several of the others coming in at the same time. Blaise and Chad were back from D.C. and had already arrived. As everyone gathered around the main conference table, Jack eyed Monty. “Get anything from Ms. Cartwright?”
Reporting as succinctly as possible, he related what happened last night, both from his perspective and what she had explained. As his story came to the incident in the hotel room, the incredulous, and even angry, looks were shared by all.
“I don’t care what her dad and brother taught her, going into a hotel room with someone she thought may have done something to her friend was crazy-ass irresponsible,” Jude said, with nods of agreement from the others. His fiancé, Sabrina, assisted the Saints when they were helping her grandmother, but his heart still stopped every time he remembered that she had been kidnapped in the process. Jude decided then and there—no more investigating for her.
Monty continued to explain the subsequent events at the hospital and then this morning’s conversation.
“I’m surprised you didn’t bring her in with you this morning,” Marc added.
“Yeah, well, I tried. She’s as stubborn as she is beautiful.”
The other saints grinned as Monty drummed his fingers on the table. “Beautiful?” Blaise asked. “Hmmm, maybe I need to check on the intrepid Ms. Cartwright.”
Monty’s gaze jumped up to Blaise’s. “Oh, no you don’t. She’s mine to take care of.” Seeing the grins around the room, he immediately tried to back up. “Not like that,” he protested. “I just mean since I’m heading this case, she’s mine to…oh, hell, I don’t know what she is.”
The others laughed; this time, recognizing the signs of another Saint falling. “Don’t fight it, bro. If it’s happening, there’s nothin’ you can do to stop it,” Cam advised, fist bumping Bart sitting next to him. The two friends had found love with the last two big cases the Saints had investigated.
“Do we need to be concerned about Ms. Cartwright’s safety since this mystery guy is still missing?” Jack asked.
“She’s at her bakery now and lives above it. I’m going back over there this evening. I did promise to keep her up on whatever we’re finding out and she gave her word that she would not attempt to investigate anymore.”
That settled, Blaise and Chad began reporting what they found out in D.C. “Marcia Creston’s reputation for being driven in the workforce…and driven in the bedroom, extends to her friends outside just this area. Although, other than her sorority sisters, she really hasn’t stayed in contact with too many of her college friends,” Blaise said, running his hand over his clean-shaven face.
Chad spoke up, “There was a Colonial Financial Group branch in Arlington and we found a few employees had transferred from the Charlestown office to there when Marcia took over. A couple of the men seemed to hold a grudge.”
“You get anything else?” Monty inquired.
“Nah. We knew Luke was running their financials and sent him the names of the few friends we talked to,” Chad added.
“What about the security camera from the bar last night?” Jack asked.
“Got it here,” Luke replied. “I’ll send it to everyone’s tablets.”
“You looking for the man at the bar?” Bart asked. “Think we can get an ID on him?”
“Gonna try. I talked to Mitch this morning and he’s working with the hotel manager and trying to get prints lifted from the room.”
Marc quipped, “Fuck, lifting prints from a hotel room would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.”
“Right now it’s the only lead we’ve got. Keep working it, guys. Marcia Creston’s now been missing for about thirty-six hours,” Jack ordered, his reserved demeanor firmly in place.
The meeting ended and everyone dispersed to their assignments. Monty shifted to a desk, taking his tablet with him. Pulling up Eclipse’s security cameras from last night, he watched. His eyes moved over the vision Angel presented. Dressed to perfection. Hair, a riot of her—what did she call it? Oh yeah, her signature colors.
The mystery man was good at keeping his face turned toward her and not the camera. He’s been there before. He knows to where to look to avoid the camera.
He watched the tapes over and over, but the view never changed. Nothing. Abso-fuckin’-lutely nothing. Except for her. He paused at the second she threw her head back and laughed. Reaching out his finger he traced over her image, committing it to memory. His phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts and he answered to find Mitch on the line.
“Monty? I wanted to let you know first, although right now, someone is informing the Senator and his wife.”
As though plunged into icy water, a cold dread hit him as he waited for the news.
“Marcia Creston’s body was found this morning.”
“Fuck!” he growled.
“There was nothing we could have done,” Mitch added. “It looked like she had been dead about twenty-four hours, but we’ll know more when the medical examiner is finished.”
“Where was she found?”
“A farmer’s field, about five miles outside of town. She was shot at close range.”
“Send me what you’ve got. I’ll tell Jack and the men,” Monty said, as his mind jumped to the beautiful baker who also needed to be told.
After another few minutes, he disconnected and glanced over at Luke. “Call the others back in. Hopefully, they haven’t gone too far.”
Thirty minutes later, they gathered around the table once again, with Mitch on the conference video.
“The initial report is in. Marcia Creston had sexual intercourse but there is no evidence of forced trauma. The medical examiner concludes that it was consensual. In fact, other than the gunshot wound, there are no other wounds on her body. No signs of struggle, no cuts, abrasions, or bruises.”
“So she knew her murderer,” Blaise surmised.
“Or at least, knew him well enough to have sex with him,” Bart replied. “He could have been a one-night stand. She might have known nothing about him other than he was a body for a night.”
The idea of how close Angel was to the same outcome had Monty’s heart pounding. And now…he needed to tell her about Marcia.
*
Three hours later, Monty entered the bakery, this time, less overwhelmed by the abundance of color. The front was completely glass with the words Angel’s Cupcake Heaven scrolling across the windows. The establishment was long, with display cases along the right side. Three walls were done in contrasting colors of pink, purple, and teal. Of course, he realized. When she referred to her signature colors, she meant in everything. The back wall included a mural of a medieval monk baking in an old stone oven.
Tables lined the left side and as his eyes moved toward the back, he saw a much larger seating area filled with little girls. Recognizing a birthday party in full swing, he watched as Angel came from the back with a platter of cupcakes, similar to the ones at his niece’s party. Her smile was genuine and from his distance, he could see that she used makeup to cover the bruises on her forehead and replaced the large bandage from the hospital with a much smaller one.
“Can I help you, sir?” a spritely voice from behind the counter asked.
At first glance, he did not see anyone until he moved closer. A short teenage girl worked the counter and stood on her toes smiling at him. An older woman came from the back, filling the cases. Both women wore pink polo shirts with their names embroidered in swirls over their hearts under the initials ACH.
He leaned closer to the older woman and asked, “Will the party be over soon?”
Helen glanced at the group and then back to him, uncertainty on her face. “I..I—”
“Ma’am, I need to speak to Ms. Cartwright and it’s serious. When I talk to her, she’ll need to be alone and will need someone to close up the shop today.”
“Is this about that friend of hers? The missing one?” Helen whispered. At his nod, she turned, grim-faced, toward the girl. “Chelsea, keep things going up here until I come back.”
Helen walked to the back, over to Angel and whispered in her ear. Monty watched as Angel’s eyes immediately cut over to his, a question in her expression. Not giving anything away, he willed her to not make a scene.
Smiling at the children that were already finishing the pile of cupcakes, she spoke quietly to Helen, who then moved over to the party. He watched as Angel walked toward him, her smile was in place but her hands nervously fluttered by her side. He stepped closer to the door as she neared, wanting as much privacy as possible. She stopped directly in front of him, her hand reaching for his arm.
“What?” She swallowed hard several times as her voice cracked, but managed to speak again, “What do you need to tell me?”
Monty raised his hand, clasping hers in his warmth. His voice, low and smooth, said, “Cupcake, let’s go up to your place.” He could see her start to protest, then stopped. Glancing back at Helen and receiving a nod, she turned back to face him again. Her mouth opened and closed twice but no words came out. Finally nodding, she allowed him to lead her to her apartment.
Once inside, Monty, with their fingers still linked, led her to the sofa and sat down, gently pulling her down next to him. She peered deeply into his eyes, both her hands now firmly clasped in his.
“I’m afraid for you to speak,” she whispered, searching his eyes for anything other than dread.
“Angel, I’m so sorry—”
“She’s dead isn’t she?” she cried, her fingers digging into his.
In a flash, all the times as an FBI agent he had to tell a family member their loved one was dead flew through his mind. It was business. Painful, but business. But this? Fuckin’ hell! Knowing his words were going to cause Angel pain slashed through him.
“Yes, she’s dead. Her body was found this afternoon.”
For a second he was not sure she had heard him. Her face, motionless. His fingers flexed on hers and he watched as her face crumpled. She pitched forward toward him just as he pulled her into his embrace. No sound came from her at first, then a wail erupted from deep inside as the sobs consumed her. Nothing was said for several minutes as her body jerked against his. He willed his strength into her, knowing it was little he could offer.
“I…I…was…so…a…afraid…this was…going to be…what…you were going…to tell…me,” her voice hiccupped between sobs.
He rubbed her back, murmuring comforting words in her ear over and over until the sobs slowed. For a while she sat, her face tucked under his chin, as the steady beat of his heart pounded underneath her palm resting on his chest.
Taking several shuddering breaths, she gradually calmed. “I don’t care what anyone else says, she was a good person…a good friend.”
“Tell me about her,” he said softly. She leaned back and looked at him in doubt. “No, no,” he assured. “Not me, the investigator. Just talk to me, the…uh…friend.”
Nodding thoughtfully, she looked over his shoulder as memories flooded back. “Her parents were wealthy, but she never acted like it. She could have pledged any sorority, but wanted to be with our group. We were simple, but really did a lot of community service and she said she liked that. She never forgot birthdays and stepped in to help in ways that didn’t make you feel obligated.”
“How’d she do that?”
Leaning over to grab a tissue, Angel wiped her eyes and nose before continuing. “When I first opened my bakery, she believed in me. Encouraged me. But knew that business would be slow to start. She got her mom to use me to cater some of her parties. She was always doing things like that to help and never asked for anything in return.”
Monty encouraged her to talk, to remember, to begin to grieve. He held her close for over an hour as she leaned into his strength. Finally, she shifted back against the cushions, taking a deep breath. Looking to the side, she saw her mascara stained tear trails all over his shirt and weakly moved her hand to touch the wetness. “I’m sorry. Now, I’ve ruined two of your shirts.”
He glanced down at the evidence of her grief on his shirt, usually hating for his clothes to be mussed, and lifted his gaze back to her watery one. “No worries,” he promised and meant the words.
Nodding, she heaved another huge sigh before saying, “I’ve got a lot to do. I’ve got to call the other sisters. Talk to Marcia’s parents. I’ll need to—”
“Take it slow, Cupcake,” he said, linking his fingers with hers again as they sat side by side on the sofa. The evening sun warmed the colors in the apartment, as well as glistening off her hair. Tucking a wayward strand behind her ear, he advised, “You’ve got time to take care of everything.” Turning her face toward his with his fingers on her chin, he added, “I’ll help. I’ll do anything to help.”
She looked at him, her brow knitted in confusion. “Why would you help, Monty?” Her eyes sought his as she leaned slightly closer to him.
He brought his face to hers, holding her gaze. “Because I care, Angel. I care.” With that, he leaned the rest of the way in, sealing his lips over hers. Her lips were just as he imagined. Soft. Pliant. Tasting of bubblegum.
Angel leaned in further to the kiss. His lips were firm and bold. Soft and strong. She felt his tongue sweep across her seam and she opened for him. He owned the kiss as though he wanted to own her body and at that moment she could think of nothing else but the pleasure he gave. She brought her hands up to his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him in closer.
Growling in her mouth, Monty wanted to run his hands along her body, but forced them to just hold her instead. She tasted of heaven and her silky hair caressed his skin as he allowed the colorful strands to slide over his fingers. Moments later, reality pushed its way into his consciousness and he pulled back, resting his forehead on the non-injured side of hers.
Both gulped in air, the kiss having robbed them of oxygen while supplying them with everything that seemed necessary.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly, then looked at the hurt flashing through her eyes. “No, no, I mean, I’m sorry for taking advantage of your vulnerability.”
She stared long and hard at his face, dropping her eyes to his lips. “It’s okay,” she said. “I needed to connect with another human.” Then, almost as an afterthought, added, “And I needed it to be you. I wanted it to be you.”