Jake wiped away his smile and forced a suitably serious expression. He thought for a moment about the new students: Emily, Angel and Kirk.
Of the three, the only one that had made any sort of impact was Angel. With her wild dark hair tumbling past her shoulders and a pronounced swagger, he was ashamed to admit, she’d captured his attention. But obviously she was too blatant, too in-his-face to be an undercover cop.
“Well?” Tom’s gaze was sharp and probing.
“Nope.” Jake shook his head. “Not an undercover cop in the group.”
The pen ceased its tapping, and Tom’s sudden sigh of relief caught Jake off guard.
“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me,” Tom said.
“What does it matter?” Surprise made Jake speak freely. “The others didn’t cause any problem.”
“You’re right,” Tom said. “I just like to know who is in my school. If you hear anything…”
The principal’s sentiment made perfect sense. His ultimate responsibility was to the students, and it certainly wasn’t too much for a principal to expect to be informed if he had cops posing as students in his school.
“You can count on me,” Jake said without hesitation. “If I get even the slightest hint someone’s not who they appear to be, you’ll be the first one I’ll call.”
Chapter Two
Angel spotted Crow instantly. She couldn’t believe a man who’d just turned thirty-two years old could look like he was twenty-five. He sat on a bench beneath a huge sycamore, using the tree as a backrest. With eyes narrowed to block the sun, he gave the appearance of being half asleep. Angel knew he missed nothing. Not the way the mothers gathered their little ones when they ventured into the leafy shade, not the curious glances of the elderly walkers circling the park and not Angel’s approach from the south.
She slid down the bench feeling ridiculously small and fragile next to his bulk.
He didn’t utter a single word but she could tell her lateness had put him off. Salvador Tucci was not a man to cross. Friends had nicknamed him Crow because of his shoulder-length hair and black belt in karate. Eyes that glittered with a savage intensity and a snake tattoo encircling a muscular bicep only added to his menacing appearance.
“You’re late.” He scowled. “I just about left.”
“Yeah, right.” Angel snorted. She’d grown up on the tough streets of East St. Louis, and if he thought these intimidation tactics would keep her in line, he’d best think again.
Crow shot her a sideways glance. “What kept you?”
“A teacher wanted to talk to me.”
His gaze sharpened and his eyes glittered like hot coals. “Which one?”
“Jake Weston.” Angel popped another piece of gum into her mouth and licked the sticky sweetness from her fingers. “Man, that guy is hot.”
Crow’s eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a thing for him.”
“Me?” Angel laughed. “I’m supposed to be in high school, remember? Besides, you know my heart belongs to you.” As if to illustrate, she slipped her arm through his and gazed adoringly into his dark-as-midnight eyes.
A look of such disgust crossed his face that Angel couldn’t resist a giggle. The sound was so light and carefree, so teen-like, she had to do it again.
Before the second giggle was half out, Crow grabbed her and with one fluid movement deposited her firmly on his lap. Before she could react to the strange turn of events, he lowered his lips and kissed her neck.
Instinctively she pulled back, but his arms tightened around her like steel bands. She struggled, panic welling up from deep inside despite her efforts to squelch it.
“Stop it!” she said with as much force as she could muster and still keep her voice low.
He ignored her and lowered his head, his mouth nuzzling her neck.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Had the man flipped out? She increased her efforts and seriously contemplated screaming if his lips dipped any lower.
As if he could read her mind, Crow momentarily lifted his mouth from her skin, an unmistakable warning in his eyes. “Loverboy is on his way.”
“Wha—?” Her mouth opened, and Crow’s lips closed it.
“Angel?” Jake Weston’s voice radiated concern.
She jerked back. This time Crow let her go. Angel tumbled off his lap and onto the bench, her breath coming in short puffs.
“Mr. Weston.” Angel resisted the urge to straighten her shirt, and leisurely sat up, meeting his disapproving gaze with a defiant one of her own. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you have a minute?”
Not only didn’t he answer her question, but his request sounded suspiciously like a command.
Angel shot a sideways glance at Crow to see if he’d noticed that Jake Weston sounded more like a jealous boyfriend than a concerned teacher. For a second, she swore she saw a hint of amusement in Crow’s eyes, but the irritated scowl on his face told her she must have been mistaken.
“I need to speak with you,” Jake repeated, slanting a glance at Crow. “Alone.”
Angel hid a smile. If looks could kill, Salvador Tucci would be laid out cold as stone on the bench next to her.
“Crow, babe.” Angel ran her hand lightly up his heavily muscled forearm. “I’ll catch you later. Okay?”
Crow rose from the bench and pulled Angel up with one hand. He ignored the teacher. There was no kindness in the gaze he fixed on Angel and no hint of an idealistic cop in his steely eyes. “Just make sure you get me what I want.”
Without another word to either of them, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the wooded area to the north.
“What he wants?”
“You don’t want to know.” Four years of working the streets had given Crow a gritty edge, sometimes making the role he played all too believable. Angel’s gaze shifted to the now empty playground area. “C’mon, let’s swing.”
“I don—”
“It’s a kick.” She grabbed his hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity that surged at the touch. “You’ve got to try it.”
He pulled his hand from her grasp, but followed her to the sandy enclosed area and took a rubber U-shaped swing next to hers.
Instead of pushing off, he twisted in his seat, his gaze thoughtful. “I can’t figure you out.”
“What you see is what you get.” She’d expected him to smile at her response, but he just continued to stare at the mass of chains looped about her neck. Her hand self-consciously rose to cover the silver cross.
“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “I think there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.”
A shiver traveled down her spine. There was no way he could know. “I’ll tell you my secrets,” she said. “If you tell me yours…Jake.”
“Mr. Weston,” he said automatically.
“I like Jake better.” She flashed him her most engaging smile.
“Mr. Weston,” he said firmly.
Angel scuffed the toe of her shoe into the sand and shook her head. “You’re no older than Crow, and he’d split a gut if I called him ‘Mister.’”