by Angi Morgan
“It shouldn’t upset me. I’ve had more than a couple of years to get used to the idea. The harder I tried to get him to fly straight, the less he came around.”
Behavior he understood well. “The last few years my grandmother was alive, I saw her only on special occasions. It was rough transforming back into the kid she knew. It was easier to be the undercover. At least as the doper, I knew the rules.”
And didn’t have to lie to my only living relative.
The look on her face wasn’t pity. Nor was it envy. Curiosity, maybe? She seemed to be holding back a question. Her eyebrow arched and the unusual look was gone.
“Something’s been bugging me since Pike’s house. Why was the food cleared out of the fridge? They must have been looking for something small. Something that could have been hidden even in ice cubes…” The fork stopped bouncing around her fingers and dropped to her empty plate. “Erren, we’re looking for digitized files.”
“The old man never liked technology. He liked paper. Real files. An actual photo.” He took another bite. “Thinking he put everything on a CD is pushing it. Walter was totally lost when you mentioned thumb drives, WiFi or electronic mail boxes.”
“But not my brother. Don’t you see—” she placed her hands on the edge of the table “—Michael loves everything new. The smaller the better. Except guns.”
He had his doubts that Pike would switch his standard exchange of information for this one operation. She scooted away from the table, catching the chair before it toppled backward, hurrying into the main room.
“We’re looking for some type of flash drive or a memory stick.” Excitement hummed through her movements as she searched through the few books remaining on the shelves. “Where should we look? Is there a camera or anything electronic stored here somewhere?”
“Nope. Guess I’ll clean up.”
His afternoon priorities had shifted. Instead of getting Darby excited with the thought of sleeping with him, she was thrilled to search through every box in the place. But it wasn’t necessary. He knew the drill.
“Pike wouldn’t have left the files here, Darby.” He carried the plates to the kitchen counter and put the containers of food in the fridge.
She stopped searching the only drawer in the living area, having found only old flashlights and candles his mother had stored there. The cabin was one big family area, no hallways, only one medium-sized square with limited furniture. Two bedroom doors on one end of the cabin with a bathroom between them on the outside wall. Nothing fancy. Remembering how many times he’d been here with his mom and dad put a lump in his throat. He’d thought about his parents more in the last fifteen hours than he had in five years.
Darby parked her hands on her hips—a tall, slender reflection in the window above the sink. “You always have the right answer, don’t you? Always so sure of everything.”
“Not everything,” he mumbled. I thought this afternoon would go a little bit differently.
“What’s that? Oh, you mean mistaking me for my brother?” She laughed, more bitter than a genuine laugh from her heart.
“A laugh from her heart.” Are you kidding me? Dang, boy, what’s wrong with your manly brain? Stop thinking like a horny sap.
“I only meant that since I cooked, you should clean.” He turned just in time to feel her hands shove at his chest. “Hey, what’s that for?”
“You’re so…so…irrr.” She threw her hands in the air, frustration replacing the excitement from moments before.
“If you don’t do dishes, just say so.” He set his butt in a kitchen chair, partly to keep his hands to himself and not act upon the thoughts he’d had of getting her into bed all afternoon. And partly because he was clueless. But any male could have sensed an explosion was just minutes away.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” She hit her legs with her fists. Then lightly tapped the counter, visibly showing her aggravation at his lack of response.
Okay, only seconds away. He crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his hands from reaching out to pull her to his lap.
“Why aren’t you in a hurry? We know what we’re looking for, so let’s look.”
“We need a break, Darby. Adrenaline only works for so long.” He had enough experience to know Darby was ready to crash and burn. She’d had a ton piled on her in a short amount of time, and she’d been magnificent, but they both needed rest or they’d do something stupid. And in his world, stupid got you killed.
“How can you be so…so…relaxed?”
“I am not relaxed. I’m tired. This is a safe house. We can sleep and regroup here.” For once in his life, he didn’t want to lie. Not to her. But it was not the answer she wanted. “You need to calm down.”
Judging from the angry look in her eyes, that was an even worse thing to say.
“What I need is to find Pike’s murderer and clear my brother’s name.” The look she shot him may have thrashed lesser men. “You’re acting like we have all the time in the world. God knows what could happen to Michael while we’re resting.”
“Look, you’re frustrated. And that can make you act irrationally.” He propped his feet up on the chair she’d occupied moments before during their nice, quiet lunch.
“What was I thinking, trusting you for even two minutes?” She kicked the chair from under his feet, toppling it to the tile floor. “Where are the keys? You want to play it safe? Fine. Stay here.”
“You need to man up—or find the female equivalent.”
“I didn’t grow up with any female equivalents. Three brothers and a father who didn’t care about cuts and bruises taught me to take care of things myself.” Darby paced the floor, shaking her hands, trying to put out an imaginary fire.
Energy vibrated from her. “I can’t do nothing.” He’d left the keys on the bookshelf next to the door. She found them, right next to their guns.
The steam in her kettle was building up to blow. He couldn’t feed her emotional breakdown, but was at a total loss as to how to stop it. He had zero experience with this sort of thing.
“You stay here and get your rest,” she said.
“We are not leaving yet.” He rose from behind the table and paced his moves to match hers. She glanced away; he took another step. He tried to show he was calm and cool, even though his brain couldn’t settle on a course of action. She had a gun. Holstered, but loaded. “Come on, Darby. Think logically. There’s nothing we can do right this minute.”
“Except rest, right?”
So she had seen the condoms in the grocery sack. “Give me the keys.”
“Sean’s truck and I are returning to Dallas. I’ll find the package without assistance.” She put the Glock down the back of her pants, and tossed and caught the keys.
He took a longer step toward the front door. So did his opponent. “Look, Darby, you aren’t thinking about this logically. You need rest. Real sleep, muscle regeneration, new brain cells.”
“Please cut the crap and move out of the way.”
“No.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance, prepared for a shove.
She unzipped her jacket to reveal the souvenir T-shirt she’d retrieved with her purse from the truck. She stretched her arms behind her head. “I can handle myself. I took Michael down in three rounds once.”
“I am not your brother Michael.”
“Afraid?” She bent at the waist, sending her cute little behind in the air.
Afraid? Hell, yeah, he was afraid. But not of her throwing a good jab or left cross. Man, she was sexy right now and that was dangerous. “Partners don’t use each other for springboards following the perp. They agree to both stay or both go. And I’m staying.”
She was furious. He could see it in the tightness of her lips and set of her chin. She was past hot steam and the kettle was dry—an explosion imminent.
“You don’t know what it’s like to do nothing. You have no emotional investment in this.”
Erren stared at her, feeling like she’d sucker-punched hi
m. The hell of it was, he was getting emotionally sucked further and further in by the minute. Now that was dangerous. “Think smart, not with the heart.”
“Maybe they’re not mutually exclusive. Now get out of my way.”
“You want to leave, you’ll have to get past me.”
She shoved the keys deep into her pocket. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He tightened his grip on his arms. If he touched her, it wouldn’t be in a sparring match. He wanted that skin perfectly white, not bruised by his hand. The next time his fingers grazed her, it would be wrestling of a different sort. “If you’re convinced you’re doing the right thing, prove it. Take me down once, and I’ll let you call the shots.”
Light on her feet, Darby moved toward him to throw a punch at his right shoulder. He dodged.
“Didn’t your daddy teach you any dirty tricks to use on all those military privates who dated you?” He retreated two steps. He gestured for her to come after him.
“You’re infuriating.”
“See, you’re overreacting to my comments and not thinking clearly.”
The more he spouted off, the less accurate her punches became. She threw another, and he stumbled backward into the lounger, ducking a right jab. She threw a series, and he stayed one step out of her way.
“Damn it, Erren, engage me.”
She was too emotional. When she threw another lefty punch without much sizzle, he caught her hand and pulled her to his chest. Trapping her arms by her side, he hugged her. She didn’t try to get away. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think she knew she was crying.
When she relaxed against him, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his parents’ bedroom. She needed sleep. Solid, uninterrupted sleep. They both did.
But sure as a rooster woke at dawn, he was locking her door to keep himself from coming back.
Chapter Eight
Darby awoke with a start. She’d been dreaming of cornfields, miniature aliens and dodging bullets. She wanted to forget the strange images her subconscious had conjured. Familiar faces on neon-green monsters, chasing her through a maze of cornstalks that grew higher than she could see.
And through it all, Erren had been by her side, cupping her face with his strong hands, wrapping her hair around his fingers, smoothing away her tears with a soft touch.
A very weird dream.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she searched for a clock in the cabin bedroom. Nothing. No ticking. But she’d heard…
Not ticking, it was scratching.
Wait. Rustling. The sound was real, not a remnant from her dream.
Real and outside.
She must have slept the day away. It was almost dark. Shoes? Gun? Nothing.
Where are my shoes? And where the heck did I put my gun?
Right next to Erren’s on the bookshelf near the kitchen. Exactly where they’d left them during their meal.
Booted feet would have been nice, but barefoot she could creep across the floor silently. She tiptoed through the bathroom to the second bedroom, straining to hear. There it was again. A scrape against the house…or a branch. Then a shadow.
She pushed the door open without a creak and saw and heard Erren’s deep-in-sleep breathing. Her partner’s lap was layered with papers, at his feet a trunk that hadn’t been there previously.
It wasn’t the time to think about him lying there clean-shaven, in swim trunks or that he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. She concentrated on the noise outside, not the body she wanted to gently awaken with her touch.
Someone tromped around the corner of the house. The gate leading to the back porch sighed a heavy, rusty groan. Reflecting the life of something old and little used.
It might be safer to awaken sleeping beauty from his lounger, but he hadn’t awoken easily that morning and he might be noisy. Better to take whoever was sneaking through the back door by surprise. She made it to the kitchen, wanting the cast-iron skillet she’d seen earlier. The doorknob turned. Out of time.
Darby knelt on the floor, sinking below the counter separating her corner from the family room.
One man entered the unlocked door with caution. He took one step, stumbling in the semidarkness against one of the dining chairs.
The snoring stopped. Erren was awake.
The man had his back to her and she leaped to knock whatever he held out of his hand. Police protocol be damned. He wasn’t much competition. Nothing like Erren, who had blocked and dodged her easily. This man was almost bumbling in his awkwardness.
Again she caught the man off guard, threw a right cross and he went down to the floor.
The lights flipped on. Erren was awake.
“Darby,” Erren said from across the room. “Um, I think ADA Thrumburt would like you to get off his chest.”
“Who?” she asked. She looked at the guy she had pinned to the floor. The fifteenth recruit. Perfectly pressed shirt, wimpy arms and a confused look plastered to his face.
“I guess we don’t need to test your fighting skills.” Erren set his gun back on the bookshelf. “Brian, meet Darby O’Malley.”
Darby moved to one side of the assistant district attorney, careful not to put a knee in an embarrassing spot. She picked up his round, wire-framed glasses and held them in one hand while offering her other to help the young man stand. He clumsily took advantage, almost pulling her off her feet in the process.
“My apologies. I thought you… Well, it looked like you had a weapon.” His “gun” turned out to be a flashlight that had rolled to the middle of the room when she’d jumped him from behind.
“Totally my fault. I should have knocked louder, but Erren expressed my need for discretion. He asked me to leave my car up the road. I’m afraid I got turned around and came via a path instead of the drive.” The ADA dusted his suit pants while he spoke. He was still wearing his tie and jacket, which seemed so out of place in the rustic cabin especially as Erren was wearing swim trunks.
It was almost comical how the Dallas ADA looked like a classic geek compared to Erren, who was such a jock. An old smear of an ink stain on the back of Brian’s hand seemed to confirm his clumsiness.
“But you made it,” Erren said casually. “I’ll see if I can dig something up for you to wear, Darby. We need clean clothes for what I have in mind. And you may want a shower.”
He threw the comment over his shoulder as he disappeared into a bedroom. Once again, totally confident in his take-charge attitude, leaving her in the dark. She might just have to communicate with him about that—maybe with the skillet. The ADA looked at her while adjusting his glasses, then pulled them off, removed an actual handkerchief from his pocket and wiped them clean.
“I know we haven’t met, Ms. O’Malley, but I’m very familiar with your work.”
“That would be my brother.” She assumed he was making the same mistake as the infuriating man who’d just left her alone with instructions to strip and shower.
“Oh, no. I’m familiar with your brother as well. But your interviews in the Dallas Narcotics Division have made my job much easier. You’re very thorough.”
“Thanks.” At least someone appreciated her ability. “I’m at the academy now.”
“Yes. Darn shame if you ask me. You’ve been a tremendous asset.”
“Guess you two finished the introductions,” Erren said, tossing her a shirt and shorts. “Brian, time to get started. Darby…”
Yes, he’d made a thumb motion over his left shoulder, instructing her to hit the shower. Absolutely no way. If he thought she would calmly walk into another room and let him plan the next steps without her… Well, she…
No tantrums.
No arguments.
She took a seat, put the clothes on the table and gestured for their visitor to join her.
Brian sat.
Erren pulled her chair, scooting her away from the table. “Listen, hon.”
“Hon?”
“I need a couple of m
inutes alone with Brian.” He leaned in close but didn’t lower his voice. “I promise not to keep any secrets.”
“I don’t believe you,” she answered.
Brian looked around the room, “I can wait outside if you need a moment of privacy.”
Erren placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, keeping him in the chair. “That’s not necessary. Darby really needs a…” He sniffed. Loudly. “A shower.”
He’d sniffed her and made a face. He wrinkled up that broken nose of his and implied that she smelled. It didn’t matter if she did or not. She wasn’t leaving.
“I’m sure we’d all be more comfortable if I stepped outside.” Brian tried to rise again.
Erren’s body language changed. Instead of the relaxed jock with fantastic muscles, he became the man who claimed he wasn’t lying. Everything about his demeanor tightened, became edgy. And instead of making her jumpy, she softened, unable to resist the appeal he might actually be telling the truth.
“I need a minute with Brian. What I’m discussing doesn’t concern your brother.” It looked as if he forcibly relaxed his features. “Please?”
It was easy to see the word please wasn’t in his vocabulary. Had been hard for him to add, harder still for him to mean it. He tightened his abs, waiting for her answer. She recognized his tell. A very nice-to-look-at reaction, normally hidden under his shirt and one he didn’t seem able to control. He was so uncomfortable telling the truth, his body reacted to it like a lie.
“Since you asked so nicely.” She pushed farther away from the table, completely convinced she was making the wrong decision, but also at ease that she could finally see through her partner’s facade. “I’m famous for a six-minute shower in my family. One bathroom, four men.”
“You’ll find everything you need in the cabinets.”
Erren took her seat at the table as she scooped the clothes he’d thrown her and retreated toward the room she’d slept the day away in. She was making a graceful exit until she turned the knob and found the door locked.
