Chapter Two

Other than that first brief inspection of the scene, Angel avoided looking at Heath’s body as she focused on deciding her next step. She could call the police…however, the evidence against her seemed solid. She hadn’t discovered any proof that another person had been in the room, and she knew for a fact someone else had been there. Because she hadn’t done this.

No doubt, her prints would be the only ones on the knife lying on the floor next to the bed. Someone had done a thorough job positioning her to take the fall. If she’d planned this hit, she would have also paid off a few people to say they’d heard her and Heath arguing at or after the party. No doubt, helpful witnesses would surface as soon as the news broke.

Josiah Thorne, her boss, would get her out of the situation eventually, if he could. But that would take time. Time she didn’t have if she was in jail. Or if the cops believed her and she was embroiled in an official investigation. Not if she wanted to launch her own.

Until she knew who did this, dealing with the legal system wouldn’t be safe. Whoever set her up were professionals. They knew exactly how to plant evidence so she would be the main suspect. She could only trust Thorne and her small team at Phoenix. They were like family.

Everyone else was an unknown.

She brushed aside the last cobwebs of the sedative and her instincts kicked in. Her next step was to get out of there before she was caught red handed. Literally. For a moment, her heart filled with sadness at the loss of the man lying in the bed. While their relationship had been strictly client/bodyguard, she’d liked and respected him as a person.

He’d told her many times how he trusted her with his life.

And she’d let him down in the worst possible way.

Putting aside the deluge of guilt, she worked out the details of her escape plan. No marshal worth their badge went anywhere without having a bolt plan. Normally, it would include the person she was protecting, but now it was to save herself.

From earlier surveillance of Heath’s condo at 181 Fremont, she knew the cameras in all seventeen elevators were well monitored. The two main stairwells, however, only had active cameras on every fifth floor, alternating. No sane person took the stairs in a skyscraper.

She might have been able to hack into the building’s security system to mitigate the cameras, but she quickly discovered the intruders who’d set her up had also taken her laptop. All the more reason to find them.

And make them pay.

Changing out of her bloody clothes, she threw them in a bag and pulled on a clean outfit and sneakers. Her platinum blond hair had splashes of red stains through it. She pulled it back and shoved on a ball cap to cover the blood.

She paused by the door before slipping out into the hall and heading for the stairs. There were only two other residences on this floor and it was still early, but she held her breath as she rushed past the other doors.

Down two floors, she took that corridor to get to the stairwell on the opposite end. Down the next three and across that floor. Heath lived on the sixty-seventh floor. It would have taken a long time to get to the lobby at this rate.

Good thing she wasn’t heading for the lobby.

The main entrance was covered by cameras and security. She knew she couldn’t simply walk out of the building without being recorded. Fleeing in disguise would make her appear all the more guilty.

She continued down to the fifty-fifth floor—to Heath’s safe house. She’d suggested he rent the place under a fake name so he had a place to go in case his apartment was compromised. It wouldn’t be linked back to her, and it would take weeks for them to track it back to Heath.

The scent of new paint and drywall hit her as she entered the apartment. Dropping her go-bag, she hurried directly to the shower, wanting to remove the evidence of her failure.

“I’m sorry, Heath. So sorry.” A few tears escaped, but she quickly choked them back. U.S. deputy marshals didn’t cry. They didn’t allow emotions to get in the way of their duty.

The two times she’d broken that rule she’d paid dearly. The first time was when she’d lost perspective on her first partner at the Marshals Service. That mistake had nearly cost her life. She’d quickly learned not to let her heart get involved on the job.

She’d liked Heath, and they’d had a lot of fun playing a happy couple. But it had been a job and nothing more.

She swiped her last tear away and sighed. She knew Heath would have forgiven her if he’d been there. He probably would have told her she couldn’t have been any more careful. They’d never eaten or drunk anything that hadn’t been inspected by someone she trusted. Even bottled water had been dipped for contaminants.

She’d done everything right. She didn’t know how someone had managed to incapacitate her and kill the man she’d been entrusted to protect.

Pink water swirled around her toes before escaping down the drain.

Heath Zeller was gone, and his life’s work, his legacy, was in the hands of his murderer. As Angel stood there dripping, she vowed to get it back.

And to do that, she had to find the real killer.