The Angel And The Outlaw. Ingrid Weaver
Hayley knew that wasn’t true. He was taking the stairs two at a time and wasn’t even breathing hard. She could feel the strength in his hands and in the corded muscles along his arms and shoulders. “Put me down,” she said. “I want answers.”
He didn’t comply until they reached the landing at the top of the stairs. He bent his knees and let her slide off his shoulder until her feet touched the floor.
There was a varnished wood door in front of them that looked identical to the one at the front of the building. A lock with a numbered keypad was set into the wood below the knob. Hayley had barely registered these facts when Cooper punched a combination into the lock and swung the door open. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside with him.
After the dim staircase, the brightness of the room they entered made her squint. The place was big, appearing to stretch away from her the entire width of the building. She glimpsed a large unmade bed on a low platform in the far corner, some overstuffed couches and a leather recliner in the center of the room and the gleam of stainless-steel kitchen appliances set into a U-shaped counter to her right. Dominating everything was a long wall with three multi-paned warehouse-style windows that overlooked the same overgrown orchard she had seen from Cooper’s office.
But she had no chance to take in more detail. Cooper grasped her cheeks and turned her face to his. “Hayley, you have to stay here,” he said. “Keep away from the windows. Don’t open the door to anyone except me.”
Out of principle she didn’t like taking orders any more than she allowed anyone to manhandle her, but she could see the anxiety on Cooper’s face was genuine. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t want you involved in this. I warned you that you’re out of your league. You should have stayed away.”
“Cooper—”
“I’ll explain later.” He dropped his hands and returned to the door. “I’ve got to go.”
She ran after him. “Cooper, wait!”
He paused in the doorway, his body hard with tension. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I can’t, Hayley. It’s already been set into motion.”
“But what are you doing?”
“Applying for a job.”
“With Oliver? I thought you wanted to see him punished.”
Cooper’s gaze was like ice as it bored into hers. “I’m an ex-thief with a criminal record and a public grudge against the man Oliver murdered. Those credentials will get me places that you and the law could never go.”
She stopped before she reached him. She tried to think, but it was hard. Too much was happening too fast. “I still don’t understand.”
“You’re a bright woman, Hayley.” He turned away. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Oliver Sproule sat completely still, his hands folded neatly on his crossed legs. Two of his men stood behind him, their bulk a marked contrast to Oliver’s greyhound-slender frame. Against the dark backdrop of their suits, his hair shone like platinum.
He hadn’t moved since he’d taken the chair Cooper had offered. Not one fidget of his manicured fingers, not one rustle of his silk suit, not even a scuff of his hand-stitched shoes. He was as composed as a corpse.
Cooper didn’t like it. He’d never met anyone who was so difficult to read.
Yet by his very composure, Oliver revealed something basic about his character. He was a control freak. That’s why he’d shown up three hours early. It was also why he’d elected to have their meeting in the barroom at a table of his choice rather than in Cooper’s office.
The fact that he’d chosen to meet in Cooper’s territory instead of his own had provided yet another opportunity for one-upmanship. A second car had arrived while Cooper had been busy with Hayley. In addition to the two goons at the back of Oliver’s chair, there were several more at each exit and another four in the parking lot. Oliver’s men outnumbered Cooper’s by more than four to one. He’d essentially turned Cooper’s turf into his own.
Cooper couldn’t let him see how much that part of it bothered him. The Long Shot was his.
“While I’m flattered that you would like to do business with me, Mr. Webb,” Oliver said, “I’m curious to know why.”
Cooper hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and leaned back in his chair, endeavoring to keep his body language casual. “Money. Why else?”
Oliver arched one platinum eyebrow. “Indeed.”
“I figure you could be interested in some extra cash flow now that you fixed your legal problems.”
One corner of Oliver’s upper lip lifted in a barely suppressed sneer. The first chink he’d allowed. “Go on.”
“Congratulations, by the way,” Cooper said. “Nice piece of work on that verdict.”
“I fully support the justice system in this great country of ours.”
“Yeah, I bet. I would have popped Tavistock myself if I’d had the chance.”
“It was an unfortunate accident.”
“Sure. Whatever. The thing is, I’ve been wanting to get some action going but I need a way to move the merchandise. My former associate who used to handle that for me is doing twenty to life.”
“I don’t run a van line, Mr. Webb.”
“I thought you would know the trucks are my specialty, Ollie.”
The nickname brought on an eyelid twitch. Oliver regained control and regarded him stonily.
Cooper decided it was time to get to the point. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I bring you some TVs. You find a buyer, you take ten percent of the proceeds.”
“Sixty.”
“Twenty, and you provide storage until the merchandise can be moved.”
Oliver snapped his fingers. The men behind him stepped forward and drew back his chair as he stood. “Forty percent and secure space in my warehouse where you can unload.”
Cooper got to his feet. “You’ve got a deal.”
“Agreed.”
Cooper nodded and held out his hand. “Great. I’ll be in touch.”
Oliver slid his palm against Cooper’s and gave him a token squeeze. He moved toward the exit, his bodyguards falling into step behind him.
Cooper waited until he saw the cars pull out of the parking lot, then carefully wiped his right hand on his pants. The groundwork had been laid. He’d established an angle that would get him into the organization, just as he’d planned.
That didn’t stop him from feeling dirty.
It had been seven years since his last job. Four years since he’d made his promise to Tony. He’d become accustomed to feeling…clean.
Soap and clothes won’t change who a person is.
That’s what he’d told Hayley. Had she realized he hadn’t only been talking about her?
He helped Pete finish the preparations for the day, then left him to manage the bar while he headed upstairs. There was no sound coming from the other side when he reached the door to the loft. He didn’t think Hayley could have gotten out—he’d instructed Pete to keep an eye on the staircase during the meeting with Oliver to make sure she remained out of sight. But Cooper had made no attempt to mask the noise of his boots on the steps. He’d expected her to meet him with more questions and demands.
As soon as he unlocked the door, the reason for her silence became obvious. She had fallen asleep in his chair.
Cooper eased the