.38 Caliber Cover-Up

by Angi Morgan

  “I know.” Darby’s voice was softer, less authoritative than when she’d ordered him into the balloon.

  Erren stayed on the floor of the basket. Maybe if he couldn’t see the dang thing floating in the air, he wouldn’t lose yesterday’s lunch. Maybe he wouldn’t shake right out of his shoes. Maybe. Just maybe.

  Concentrate on the weave of the wicker. It was only a bigger version of the baskets his grandmother made. He could do this. They couldn’t get caught. It was the only way to avoid days of sorting out the truth or being thrown off the case entirely. Nothing to it.

  Maybe.

  Darby climbed in, opened a valve and the smell of propane filled the air. She immediately used a striker to spark a flame. The swoosh of the gas springing to life shot through him with an image of the stupid air sack going up in flames like the Hindenburg.

  The balloon rose and Erren kept his butt firmly glued to the bottom of the basket.

  “What are you doing down there? You need to stand up. It’s a real clear morning. You can see for several miles. Besides, you’re supposed to be proposing.”

  “Proposing?” He tilted his head and watched the wind whip her hair from her face. She really was lovely. “Why would I be proposing?”

  “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?” She quirked an eyebrow at him before returning her attention to the heater. “It’s the only reason the Sergeant Major lets the balloon go up without him. He can’t stand the mushy stuff.”

  “Got it.” There was no way in hell he was standing up. “But I’m not the type of guy to go down on one knee.”

  “Are you at least the kind who can stand up? It’s hard to sell a proposal if the Sergeant Major can’t see you do it.”

  “Not really, Darby.”

  “Are you kidding me? What’s wrong with you?” Her forehead scrunched up with her questions. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

  “No descriptions necessary. I’m—”

  “They’re here,” she whispered strongly. “Stand up.”

  “Can’t do it.”

  “This has happened before?”

  “Every time.” Every rooftop. Every tree climbed on a dare. “As long as I can’t see where I am, I can still imagine we’re on the ground.” The basket swung back and forth like a swing. His body flinched, totally beyond his control. “Except when that happens.”

  “Where’s the big Secret Agent Man saving my life when I need him?”

  Not in this death trap.

  “The Sergeant Major will bring us down immediately if he thinks something’s wrong. Sorry, tough guy, pull it together. Stand up.”

  Her hands were under his arms, tugging, before he could fight it. So he was the big Secret Agent Man? He could play that role. Right? Just another cover. He inched his way to a standing position. His chest tightened to a not-breathing level. The basket swayed a little, but seemed steady enough. They were still tethered to the ground by ropes. He’d seen them before hopping inside.

  “So what do couples do up here when the guy proposes?” His hands shook against the basket’s leather rail. His abdomen clenched, giving him more than his normal workout.

  “They definitely look more excited than you do at the moment.” She took a step closer to him. The basket swayed more. “Erren, look at me.”

  He did. Straight into dark green pools sparkling in the morning sun. It was easy to concentrate on them. To see nothing else as they grew closer and blocked out the treetops serving as their backdrop.

  “Don’t freak out,” she whispered, dusting the top of his shoulders with her fingers. Letting her hands linger on his upper arms wasn’t his choice, but definitely kept her close enough so he couldn’t see his surroundings.

  She drew closer and closer. Each second was imprinted in his mind like a frame of a film. Her actions ticked away like a silent movie. Then her lips touched his. Nature conquered fear.

  His hands were on her slim, firm waist instead of the cool leather trimming the top of the basket. He couldn’t close his eyes completely. He watched her reaction, felt her body relax. She anchored them to the center brace in the basket, but arched her body toward him.

  He’d wanted to kiss her since first straddling her strong body the night before. His fingers inched up under the windbreaker to feel bare skin. No shirt. Interesting. They inched farther, exploring her cool silk, feeling her jump slightly, feeling her body move into his, feeling one of her hands flutter up his back.

  God, her lips were smooth and ideal. Her mouth was warm. A perfect fit. Everything was a perfect fit. They weren’t coming up for air. The kiss kept deepening. Her breasts pressed into his chest. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on them and find out if they were a perfect fit, too.

  “Hey, d’Artagnan,” Sean shouted from below. “Come on down.”

  Darby drew back, leaving inches between them. Her finger caressed the outline of his ear, trailing down his neck and tapped the dagger charm hanging there.

  “You can sit now.” Did he imagine the huskiness in her voice? She broke away from his arms. “I need to open the parachute valve so we’ll descend.”

  Tops of balloons were to his left and nothing but air to his right. Tree tops were in the distance across the field as he stumbled back to the edge of the basket.

  His legs shook and his insides jumped, but was it from the height? Or a green-eyed witch who had taken him flying?

  Chapter Four

  “Time to face the firing squad.”

  Darby muttered under her breath, but Agent Rhodes shifted, letting her know he’d heard the sibling battle cry for facing their father.

  Agent Rhodes… Or should she think of him as Erren after that erotic kiss? She hadn’t meant the distraction to go so far. A little shock therapy to take his mind off his obvious fear of heights. And judging by the raised voices below, everyone had seen her complete enjoyment of his marvelous kissing ability.

  Unfortunately, her head was coming down out of the clouds rather quickly and her feet were about to hit the ground.

  “I can hear the Sergeant Major yelling at Sean for letting the balloon go up.”

  “Are you going to tell me who this Sergeant Major guy is?”

  Erren was still standing. A little rocky on his feet, but he looked much better than when she’d thought he was about to hurl. He made eye contact with her for the first time since their kiss. Whew, what a kiss. The man had a way to focus and bring concentrated effort to the task at hand. He’d been the one who could barely stand. But when her knees got a smidgen shaky, it was his arm steadying her, feeling its way around her waist, discovering there wasn’t a shirt under the jacket. Her body had quickly grown hot enough to keep the balloon in the air without propane, but taking anything off wasn’t an option….

  “Does your brother work for him?” Erren asked.

  It was probably time to break the bad news. “Sergeant Major is short for father. Three boys and one girl and we all refer to him as the Sergeant Major. Even though he’s retired, he’s still U.S. Army through and through.”

  “And you call him Sergeant Major?” he asked, with his eyes closed. Still unable to watch their surroundings.

  “You’ll know why in a few minutes.” Couldn’t he hear the yelling from directly below them? A controlled, raised voice. Nothing so loud the festival participants could hear, but a loud voice nonetheless. She couldn’t hear Sean’s responses yet, but they were almost to the ground. “You better let me do the talking when we land. My father doesn’t deal well with a change in his plans.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Erren looked steadier on his feet. The green hint of nausea was quickly being replaced by a shoulders-back, ramrod-spine, no-frills kind of guy. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Erren had exited the cabin of a military jet.

  “Got a rubber band or something?” He tugged at his hair, shoving the longish locks behind his ears.

  “Nothing.” She patted her pockets to make certain.

/>   “You did not say your sister was in the basket. She’s the one getting engaged?” The Sergeant Major’s voice boomed from beneath them.

  “Not for real, sir.” Sean explained while gathering the ropes. “I couldn’t let the cops take her in. Hear her out.”

  “Cops? Why would they— She is a cop.”

  The ground rapidly approached. Erren ripped a piece of his T-shirt and tied his hair at the back of his neck. He shoved the red, white and blue Don’t Mess with Texas shirt into his pants and pulled them higher on his waist, tightening his belt.

  “Get ready for a bump,” she instructed, attempting to ignore the discussion below, praying her father wasn’t drawing a crowd and watching Erren change personas right before her eyes.

  Gone was the man too afraid to stand up in the basket. He’d been replaced by a man her father would have a hard time finding fault with. Well, except for the small necklace dangling against his tanned neck. And maybe the very intimate, public kiss.

  “You might want to put your dagger in your pocket.”

  The basket touched ground, ropes were tied, they hopped over the side and the chain and charm were gone.

  “What’s the big idea stealing my balloon to avoid questioning, young woman?” Her father didn’t touch her. He had completely dispensed with pleasantries or introductions and gone straight for the jugular…as usual. “I have no use for men who show their affections in public, son. You’re dismissed while I speak with my daughter.”

  “Begging the Sergeant Major’s pardon, but I’m the person your daughter was protecting with that kiss. I believe it’s in your best interest to hear me out.”

  “And who the heck are you?”

  A very good question and one she was curious about herself.

  “Paladin, sir.”

  Her father’s lip lifted, almost growing to a smile before he caught the reaction and put his Sergeant Major face back in place. What was she missing?

  Her father actually clapped a hand on a stranger’s shoulder and led him to his coffee thermos.

  “Spit it out, son. What’s your story?”

  Erren nodded his head but they were too far away for her to hear his words.

  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” her brother whispered behind her, holding her in place.

  She twisted away from watching the clap on Erren’s shoulder to face an awestruck brother, mesmerized by the scene.

  “If you’re witnessing our father miss the opportunity to flail me alive for messing with his—”

  “Our.”

  “The balloon,” she corrected. “Then yes, I guess we’re not hallucinating.”

  She took a step to follow Erren, but Sean tugged on her elbow. She didn’t want her father involved and had no idea what Erren might tell him.

  “Darb’tagnan.”

  She loved the childhood nickname her siblings had given her. The O’Malley brothers had all been the Three Musketeers growing up and one day to join their fun antics, she’d declared herself d’Artagnan. The name had morphed into “Darb’tagnan” and her siblings had developed “four-teer,” a secret language of drawings to bypass random babysitters or adults.

  “Let Paladin the chameleon handle the Sergeant Major.” He waved for her to follow him to the other side of the basket. “What happened to him up there? He did an about-face on the scared-spitless routine. Which is the real him?”

  “That’s the thing, Sean. This guy was sent by Pike and—”

  “Your partner at the academy? Not to be tactless, but how can you believe him? Isn’t he a little late?”

  How much should she tell him? “He had a note from Michael, telling me in four-teer language to stick with him.”

  “And that’s enough to make you run to Michael’s rescue again? You’re determined to believe him? Didn’t his academy embarrassment teach you anything? Or him breaking into your old apartment?” He pushed his hands through his hair, his level of frustration apparent. “God, Darb, our little brother is headed down a path we can’t go. I agree with the Sergeant Major—it’s best to just wait for him to hit rock bottom and straighten himself out.”

  “Don’t you think lying in a coma and being an accused cop killer is rock bottom enough? He can’t defend himself.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I give up.” He stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re going through with this? No way to talk you out of it?” He had one of those big-brother faces on—the kind he gave her when he was in charge after Connor had left for boot camp.

  “I have to find out the truth.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” He took her hand and closed her fingers around a wad of cash. “You’re going to need more. This is all I have on me.”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  She didn’t argue since she did need the money. She only had a twenty in her purse after buying the T-shirts. “Thanks.”

  “Thank me by staying safe and out of jail, will ya?” He gave her a quick hug. “You’re a good cop, sis, and if you need to find out what Michael was doing or how he’s involved…do it.”

  “I will prove he’s innocent.”

  “That’s what I don’t get, Darby. Michael admitted he’s guilty and you still believe in his innocence. We’re all horrible liars, you know that.”

  “I’ll stay in touch, but not with my phone. I’m taking Richard to Pike’s house to have a look around and see what I can find.”

  Her brother nodded toward their father, who still had a hand on Erren’s shoulder, still nodding, not yelling. Strange behavior.

  “Whoever that fellow with the Sergeant Major is, he’s good. Real good. Don’t trust him and don’t…” He arched his eyebrows and gave her a birds-and-bees kind of nod. “You know.”

  Even though Sean didn’t say the words, she didn’t miss his look of “don’t sleep with him.” It would be unethical to sleep with her partner, no matter how incredible of a kisser he happened to be.

  “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR face, son?”

  “Job hazard, sir.” With the exception of last night and perhaps once or twice in San Antonio, he hadn’t been in too many fights. Although he trained most of the time. This one had left him a little ragged looking. The others had broken his nose. Twice.

  “Being roughed up didn’t seem to stop my daughter in the balloon.”

  “My apologies, Sergeant Major.” But he wouldn’t be apologizing to Darby. After this operation was over, he’d be revisiting that scene…if she were open to the idea.

  “Paladin is a character from Have Gun—Will Travel, an old television show from the early sixties I used to watch. My name is Denny O’Malley, U.S. Army sergeant major retired, and where I come from, a man gives his real name and rank. So who the hell are you?”

  He needed some type of connection or cooperation from the Sergeant Major without blowing his cover. It would help to avoid the police, but the people who were after Darby might come after her family. Leaving them blind wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

  “I can’t compromise the situation by giving you my true identity. I won’t sugarcoat my intentions. What I do is dangerous—lethal. Your daughter is key to my mission, and I’ll do everything I can to protect her. What I need for you to do is protect the rest of your family by letting Darby and me do our job. Don’t help us. Don’t hinder us.”

  “That’s quite an air of command about you. Most fathers may accept a strange young man at his word. But I’m not like most fathers.”

  “I do what I have to do.”

  Darby’s father hadn’t removed his hand from Erren’s shoulder. The pressure under the man’s fingertips might leave bruises. The Sergeant Major may not show a lot of emotion, but he could convey his dislike of the situation.

  “Interesting thing about that show.” His fingers relaxed, giving Erren a pat. “Paladin was the protector of the innocent, always portraying a role. Kind of an odd show for someone your age to choose. Maybe you didn’t think anyone would recognize the name or mayb
e you didn’t realize exactly what name you’d taken?”

  He knew. He’d almost chosen the actor from the series, Richard Boone, as the name to go with today, but didn’t want the O’Malleys to think about it too much. Just his luck that Darby’s dad happened to be a fan of Westerns.

  “It’s only a name.” He looked the Sergeant Major in the eye. For some odd reason he wanted the man to trust him. It would be easier to leave without explanations, but he had a strange feeling that the Sergeant Major’s trust was important. “Darby needs to do this, sir. And it should be with me.”

  Sometimes, honesty worked better than lies. Darby was headed their way and he needed to wrap this fatherly talk up quickly.

  “I appreciate your concern, son, but my girl doesn’t need taking care of or my permission to do anything. She was raised to be self-reliant. Nice to know she’s got capable hands along for the ride.”

  Denny O’Malley tapped Erren’s shoulder one last time before placing both his hands behind his back to stand “at ease.”

  “I’m not going to waste my breath telling her she can’t get involved. She’ll do what she wants anyway. But if Michael’s mixed up in this mess, then that’s what it is…a mess. And I don’t want her to ruin her career for that wastrel of a brother.” He shook his head, momentarily dropping his eyes to the ground. “Daunting possibilities and odds with that boy.”

  Erren saw how difficult it was for the Sergeant Major to admit the information about his son. The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each heavy swallow. But however Michael was involved didn’t matter, as long as Darby took him to Pike’s mysterious package.

  “I can’t really say how he’s implicated, sir. Can I count on you?”

  “On me?” The older man stuck out his hand, gripped Erren’s firmly. “Yes, and I’ll keep my boys in line, but—”

  His boys—Darby’s brothers. Sean was here and Michael was missing, possibly a suspect.

  “But?”

  “If you haven’t figured it out yet, you will. Darby doesn’t take orders.”

  “I can handle her, sir.”

  Darby’s father laughed as she joined them.