Uh, oh. She wasn’t sleeping.
She was crying.
∞∞∞
“Piper?” Zach stood at her door. He should have tugged on his button-up shirt, but when he’d heard the soft weeping, he’d sprung from the bed and come straight to her door. “You all right?”
He pressed the door open, and there she sat on the mattress, in just a t-shirt, her knees hugged at her chest, her long, bare legs folded up. Her hair tumbled all around her shoulders, and her cheeks were wet.
“Hey, girl.” Without thinking whether or not he’d be welcome, Zach fell to his knees beside her and took her in his arms. Her cheeks pressed to his shoulder, wetting his skin through his thin t-shirt. She was soft and vulnerable in his embrace, her legs across his lap, her arms entwining at his back as she melted against him. “You want to tell me about it?”
She drew a shuddering breath, which made him realize just how long she must have been feeling this way. He should have turned on that intercom earlier, or somehow he should have known. He was her husband, after all.
“You can tell me. I’m your husband. We’re in this together, you know.” He didn’t have a lot of experience at being a comfort to a woman in distress. Most of the time, if a woman he was dating was crying like this, it was based on something he’d done, like break up with her, and there was nothing he could do to fix that emotion, other than take her back, which never would have been the right decision. He didn’t think these tears were his fault, but he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.
“My husband,” she said with a quavering whisper, her breath hot against his neck. “It sounds so foreign.”
At least she was talking now. That was a start. She smelled so good, though, which wasn’t doing much to help his own problem. Maybe this plan to come in and press her to him in the middle of the night wasn’t so good for his own psyche.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, hoping for an answer he knew she wouldn’t give. “I did promise to be your husband.”
And to love and to cherish her. But also to honor her. And he had to prioritize that one, unfortunately for the chemistry that was telling him otherwise, while the skin of her bare legs was centimeters from his reach. But he’d promised to honor her. She’d saved herself for one man—and Zach either intended to help her keep that promise intact for whoever that man was she eventually chose to marry and give herself to—or else to be that man.
He preferred the latter.
Especially in the dark of her room, with Piper in his arms, smelling like femininity and flowers.
However, he recalled his initial thoughts about her, back in the elevator—the words shimmy and groan came to mind—and shame filtered through him. Piper Quinn wasn’t that girl. She was something different, something pure. Sure, his initial response had been strong physical attraction, but even as that grew, so did other ideas about her character and her good soul.
He wouldn’t just obey, like he’d announced to her a second ago. He’d honor.
And unless he was more careful, love.
Whatever it was that’d raised her tears, Zach needed to get to the root of it and put a stop to it. He glanced around this room. It was as cramped as it was in the daylight, but it was also lit by tiny lights. What were they? The pinpoints of florescence made this place feel like a fantasy. They made the dark room feel hung with stars.
Zach held her to his chest a long time, until her breathing returned to a normal rate and her muscles relaxed. Piper’s head dropped against his shoulder.
She’d fallen asleep in his arms.
Carefully scooting to a reclining position, Zach leaned up against the wall, a pillow behind his back, and Piper didn’t stir. Every breath calmed him as well, and he let his eyes drift shut, but the little lights on all the walls remained as an afterimage there as he slid into sleep as the husband of Piper Travis.
∞∞∞
An hour before dawn, Zach’s internal clock woke him as always. He was cricked into a strange position on this demonic twin-sized mattress that clearly had a slow leak, since his lower half was now making contact with the wood slats of the floor through two thin layers of vinyl.
His eyes shot open. Piper’s hair was draped across his neck, and her head fit into the crook of his shoulder perfectly. She was still sleeping in just her Neil Diamond t-shirt. His fingers were touching her lower back where her t-shirt had come up.
He should go. She wouldn’t want to wake up and think they’d slept the whole night together. In truth, it’d only been three or four hours. A nap, really. He could talk her out of any panic she might conjure up.
However, the thought that had awakened him this morning wasn’t for Piper’s honor, though it should be. It was about that ICE agent, Valentine.
Zach did his best thinking via his subconscious sometimes, which often worked overtime while Zach slept. He’d learned to never discount any idea he got first thing in the morning.
And this morning, Valentine was stomping all over his thoughts in her spiked stiletto heels.
With a silent groan, he extracted himself from Piper’s embrace, hoping she wouldn’t awaken. She didn’t. He spread a blanket over her, and then padded down the hallway, after a bathroom break and quick tooth brushing, and pulled out his phone. He searched Agent Valentine’s name as he sat on the sofa in the living room, making notes as he went.
Nicole Valentine. San Antonio, Texas.
There were a lot of them, common name, mostly social media accounts. He skimmed past them and then clicked on a news filter.
Lots of results, but all described her arrests and case work. Turned out she was a serious player at ICE, whether her wardrobe suggested it or not. Sixteen arrests in her first week on the job. Coordinated a major roundup of drug-running illegals out of Central America and got them deported faster than any other agent on staff. Agent of the Year—five times.
The list was impressive, and troubling. The woman was devoted to her job. Passionate about it.
Still, something nudged him to keep digging. In his case-prep experience, the most informative, deep-background results were rarely on page one. So Zach read, read, and read, and then—jackpot. An archived file from a small border town newspaper came up.
Border Agent Shot by Illegal Immigrant, Leaves Wife, One Daughter to Mourn.
It was from almost thirty years ago, but in the attached family photo he still recognized some features of Agent Valentine, despite the layers of makeup and the inappropriate clothing she’d worn a couple of days ago.
Well, well, well. Agent Valentine had a vendetta. A tragic story, too. He couldn’t help feeling bad for her. He’d lost a father too, in his own way, but Zach hadn’t let it sour him or turn him into the heat-seeking missile it seemed Valentine had allowed herself to become.
We all choose our own reactions to the trials life throws at us. We can get softer from them or harder.
Valentine had petrified.
Zach pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing them for clarity that didn’t come. All he knew was a vendetta was a much more formidable enemy than a duty to one’s job.
A clinking sound came from the kitchen, and Zach emerged from his research cocoon to notice that the clock had advanced well past dawn. Stretching and working the crick out of his neck, he went to see what was going on, and to grab something to eat.
When he realized they had no food. They’d have to fix that. If they lived here as a married couple, the cupboards had to look like it.
“We have two things to discuss,” Piper said, as he came in. She looked fresh and clean in a bathrobe tied at the side of her waist, overlapping at her chest. His eyes trailed over the whole package: her long hair, hanging damp at her shoulders, the brightness of her eyes, the pink polish on her toenails.
“Oh? Is one breakfast?”
“I wish. But one does involve food.”
“I’m too hungry to discuss that. Tell me the other one first.” Zach went around opening cupboards, hopin
g in vain for a leftover box of Cheerios from the last inhabitant. No dice. “Unless it involves cleaning the garage or the rain gutters.”
He was glad again that the rental agreement came with a gardener for now. He had too many other irons in the fire to worry about mowing a lawn.
“Oh. Home maintenance projects. We really ought to look like we’re doing those together, in case the neighbors get interrogated. Don’t you think the spy-agent-whatever will ask the neighbors about us?”
“Fine. We can kiss good-bye out front every morning before we leave for work.”
“Oh. Okay.” She’d faltered a little there, so Zach quickly threw out another suggestion.
“And we’ll plant a tree.”
“Oh, good one!” Her eyes lit up. “Nothing says we’re-planning-on-the-long-term like a tree.” She reached for his hand. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
He did, sometimes, but it never hurt to hear it from a gorgeous girl in a bathrobe in the morning.
“What were you really thinking?” he said, getting a couple of glasses from the cupboard and filling them with tap water, one for each of them. “Newspaper subscription in both our names?”
“That would seem like overkill, don’t you think? Trying too hard.” She sipped her water, sitting at the café-sized table beside the fridge in their ridiculously small kitchen. A woman with Piper’s cooking skills deserved a huge chef’s-style space, but she seemed perfectly satisfied with this.
Possibly because she didn’t see it as permanent. He battled the hint of irrational disappointment that accompanied that thought.
“Nobody our age reads the paper except online. So you’re probably right.” All the men at CBH did, though, so he was going to consider it anyway.
“I’ll give you a hint.”
Piper took his left hand and turned it over. She traced the back of it, running her fingertip across the back of his third finger over and over. His mouth went dry, and he had to stifle a shiver. When this woman touched him like this…
“I like this hint.” Her touch could be the hint to a lot of things. “Keep hinting.” He closed his eyes.
But Piper laughed.
“You’re supposed to guess.” He refused, and she finally said, “Ring. I have one, but you don’t. What size do you wear? I’ll see if I can buy you one today while I’m downtown. You have to have a ring.”
“We’ll go together. I’ll come by when you finish at the restaurant. We have a couple of papers still to sign. Plus, you need to meet Grandma Vada.”
“Grandma Vada! Yes, please.” Piper’s mouth pulled into a wide smile, the happiest he’d seen since they started the moving process yesterday. Seeing it relieved him. After her tears last night, he’d been concerned he might not see that smile again, that he’d broken her somehow.
A text chimed on his phone.
“It’s from work.” Whoa. Wednesday morning. He’d been gone from Crockett, Bowie, and Houston for two full days, since midnight Sunday, the longest vacation he’d taken since getting hired six years ago.
“Don’t they even leave a man alone if he’s on his honeymoon?” she asked, sipping her water again. “They’d better give you the promotion if they demand this much of your attention.”
But Zach was reading the text. If you’re in town, Mr. Travis, you and your bride are invited to a special spouses’ dinner next Wednesday night at the Crockett estate. You’ll get an official letter later, but with your recent marriage you’re qualified to attend. Bring a dish to share.
Excitement exploded through him. Yes! Barrier number one, dropped!
“You look happy. I never expected a lawyer to get so ecstatic about a work text. You win a case or something?”
“Crossed a hurdle toward my promotion—with your help, Mrs. Travis.”
“That’s great.” Piper reached under the table and squeezed his knee, her robe slipping and showing a bit of a bare shoulder. “What kind of hurdle?”
Uh. Hurdle? Oh, yeah. He dragged his eyes from her skin and answered—almost coherently.
“We’re invited to dinner officially. The potluck for work.” If they could make it there, convince the partners that he and Piper were a real thing, and that he ought to be included in their world as a partner, then…mission accomplished. The spouses’ potluck was the equivalent of showtime for Zach’s cause.
A second text came in. There will be the annual couples’ quiz night. Know your wife, win the prize of your life.
Couples’ quiz!
Chapter Fourteen
Piper washed the last copper pot, dried it shiny with a towel, and hung it on the rack above the cook stove—more ready to leave Du Jour than any other day since it opened. They’d slipped away as soon as she did all the garlic and parmesan grating, and Piper had bought his ring. It weighed about a thousand pounds in her pocket, but he’d told her to wait and give it to him later—when it could build the best moment. Meanwhile, butterflies about that impending moment, plus meeting his grandma with the Darth Vada tattoo, kept Piper off balance all through lunch.
“Not my finest hour.” Piper pulled her apron strings untied and wadded the apron in a ball. “Sorry, Mitzi.”
“You’ve never had three plates sent back.” Mitzi was totaling receipts and inputting numbers. “I’m glad I invited Ignatius yesterday instead. He raved about that lunch.”
“Why didn’t you let me meet him? I kept scorching the Alfredo sauce. I don’t know where my head was.”
“I can guess.” Mitzi arched an eyebrow. “And I’m thinking it has to do with where you’ve spent the last couple of nights and with whom.”
Piper’s mouth dropped open to protest, to tell Mitzi it wasn’t like that—but she had to keep the full truth of their platonic relationship under wraps.
“Ignatius had to eat and run. Did I tell you how much he liked the food? He said he was going to bring in friends to taste it, since he has people visiting from out of town in a week or so.”
That was nice. Piper had other things weighing on her mind. “Did I tell you we bought a house?”
“You what?” Mitzi blinked in surprise, not horror. And rather than berating her for her speed-track, instead Mitzi clapped with glee. “We have to have a housewarming party.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. They could invite that nosy ICE agent, and—
A knock sounded at the front door. Zach? Piper’s heart leapt. Usually he would come to the back, so it took her off guard.
“I’m sorry. We’re closed.” Garrett was at the door shooing someone away. “We close at two. But tomorrow’s Friday, and Friday’s lunch will be delicious too. Come back by at least one-thirty.”
But the person wouldn’t leave. And it wasn’t Zach. Piper came and stood shoulder to shoulder with Garrett.
“I’m here to see Piper Quinn.” The woman wore a business suit and was holding up a wallet open to an ID badge. “Also operating under the false identity Piper Travis.”
“I’m Piper Travis.” Piper motioned for Garrett to go back to wiping down tables. “And it’s not some kind of alias, thank you very much. Like Garrett said, we’re closed.”
“I’m your case worker, Miss Quinn.” The woman had long bottle-blond hair, collagen-filled lips, and an attitude. “What I’m here to find out is why, if you’re so recently married, you are not on your honeymoon.”
“Maybe you’ve noticed I have a business to run.” Piper didn’t owe this woman anything. She didn’t even owe her the time of day. For Piper’s so-called case worker, she sure did seem like she had a bias against her already. Weren’t case workers supposedly on the victim’s side? Piper nearly shut the door on her, but the woman stuck her foot in it to stop her.
“Surely, a honeymoon takes precedence.”
“I’m the only chef at Du Jour. Restaurant chefs don’t take vacations, not in the first year of operation.” And definitely not when a Texas Star was on the line.
Which reminded her—a food critic from Texas Foodie could
be coming to Du Jour any day now. He might have come today! Scorched Alfredo sauce day. She felt sick.
From behind Piper came Zach’s voice.
“What’s going on?” He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Piper, who was still facing off with the ICE person in a stare-down at the door.
“I don’t know what she wants, unless it’s to accuse me of not going on a honeymoon.”
“Oh, we’re on a honeymoon, all right, Agent Valentine.” Zach slid his arm around Piper’s waist.
Piper stared at the woman that must be Agent Valentine. Zach’s description had been unflattering then, but not quite adequate to describe the extent of the venom being menaced at Piper today.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have things to do right now.” He tugged Piper closer so her hip hit his. “And you don’t have a warrant. Goodbye.”
He shut the door on her, and they watched her stomp past the window in the alleyway toward her dark sedan.
“Is irritating her the right thing to do?”
“She’s not on your side, Piper. I’m glad you didn’t open the door. You didn’t have to, and by refusing you might have ticked her off, but you also didn’t grant her access to your private life. Good instincts.”
His compliment lit a little fire in her.
“Thanks. I have something for you.”
Up came Garrett and Mitzi.
“Who, exactly, is this? I thought we didn’t let customers into the kitchen. Food safety, all that.” Garrett frowned—until he recognized Zach’s face. “Hey, you’re the two-hundred-dollar tip guy.” His face broke into a wide grin and he gripped Zach’s hand, pumping it up and down. “Are you two dating or something?”
“Actually, we’re married.” Piper reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the ring. “We’re glad the two of you are here, so you can witness this. Zach’s wedding ring took a few extra days to arrive. Wanna video it?”
Garrett whipped his phone out in an instant. “Absolutely.”
“With this ring, Zach…” She knew it sounded cheesy, but she didn’t care. “You me wed?”
Illegally Wedded Page 20
