by Dianna Love
He sat up, then stood, rubbing his hands over his face through his hair, and pulling on his running shorts. “I’m not sending you to the door to handle my ex-wife at seven o’clock in the morning.”
“You’re going to open the door looking like that?” She pointed at the tent between his legs.
Damn. Right again. He pointed at her nipples, still predominantly on display under his shirt. “You’re going to greet them like that?”
Celina glanced down, crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’ll throw on a sweatshirt.”
She left the room and Cooper heard her bare feet padding quickly on his hardwood floors. He glanced at his bed, and even though he was in a pickle, smiled to himself as he too jogged across the hardwood to the bathroom.
Celina fought with her sweatshirt as she walked into the kitchen to open the door for Melinda and Owen. The tight sleeve of her right arm snagged on her cast and she had the shirt half over her head, half not, when Melinda opened the door and pushed Owen through it in front of her. Cooper’s ex stopped at the sight of Celina and lowered her Gucci sunglasses an inch on her nose. The two women stood staring at each other.
Melinda was at least six inches taller than Celina, owing part of her height to a pair of embossed leather heels. Her natural blond hair was long and straight and pulled up in a partial ponytail, partial bun on top of her head with a set of polished black chopsticks embedded in it. The perfect weapon, Celina thought, to poke someone’s eye out. Someone like the woman sleeping with her ex-husband.
“Hi,” Celina said cheerfully as she shoved her left arm in the sweatshirt and snugged it down over Cooper’s t-shirt. Melinda’s dark brown eyes ran an accusatory lap from Celina’s head to her feet. “You must be Melinda.” Without thinking, she offered her right hand. “I’m Celina. We spoke on the phone last night.”
Melinda regarded her hand and the accompanying cast. She didn’t accept Celina’s handshake.
Celina punched in the code on the security alarm by the door under Melinda’s unwavering scrutiny. Then she smiled at the young boy with his guitar case standing beside his mother. He was older than the picture on Cooper’s dresser. His hair was longer, curling on the ends, and blond like his mother’s, but his other features matched his father’s right down to the tiny cleft in his chin.
“And you must be Owen,” Celina said, still forcing brightness into her voice as she came back to a spot in front of him. Using her left hand, she gathered her hair and pulled it out from under the sweatshirt’s collar, and this time extended her hand to shake Owen’s. “Your dad tells me you’re quite a guitar player.”
Owen nodded and shook her fingers, his eyes darting to his mother, back to Celina. “My friend plays too,” he told her. “We’re going to have a garage band this summer.”
Celina smiled an honest smile this time. “That’s cool.”
“Where is Cooper?” Melinda looked past Celina with efficient dismissal in her tone and her body posture.
“He’s in the bathroom,” Celina said. “He just woke up.”
Melinda pressed her red glossed lips into a tight line. “He just woke up?”
Celina felt her true smile fading. Fast. “Yes. As I explained to you on the phone, he’s been working the Londano case all week. Last night was the first sleep he’s had in the past seventy-two hours.”
“I see,” Melinda said, but the tone of her voice said she didn’t buy it. “Owen, honey, take your guitar into the living room and practice that new chord Brian gave you last week.”
The boy gave Celina a look that said sorry as if this was a cue he’d been given from dear old mom before and he knew what was heading Celina’s way. He picked up his gig bag to clear out.
Once he was out of hearing distance, Melinda stepped forward, glaring down at Celina. “You spent the night here.” It was not a question, not even a rhetorical one. It was a statement. The start, Celina knew, of an ass chewing.
“Yes,” Cooper’s voice came from behind Celina. She turned to see him sauntering into the kitchen, sport pants falling appropriately in all the right places. “She’s under my surveillance at the moment. Why are you here so early, Mel?”
Melinda drew herself back, straightening her already ramrod stiff posture another fraction of an inch. “Steven and I are going to Vegas for the weekend. I told you that. We’re flying out of LAX this morning. That’s why I had to drop Owen off now.”
“Dad!” Owen shouted as he flew back into the kitchen, drawn by the sound of his father’s voice. Cooper opened his arms and the boy jumped into them. Cooper picked him up and gave him a bear hug.
“How y’doin’, buddy?” Cooper held Owen in one arm, used his free hand to tousle the boy’s hair.
“Good,” Owen mimicked his father, running his own smaller hand through Cooper’s short cut.
“We going to have fun today?”
Owen nodded. “Yeah.”
“Did you practice Dirty Little Secret?”
Owen’s head continued to nod. “I’ve got it down cold.”
Cooper bear hugged him again. “That’s my boy.” He put Owen down and looked at Melinda over his son’s head. “Let me talk to your mom a minute and then you can play it for me.”
Owen shot Celina another of his knowing looks. “All American Rejects?” Celina asked him. “You can play a song by them?”
A tiny smile tugged at Owen’s mouth and he glanced at his dad.
“He plays all kinds of alternative rock,” Cooper said, acknowledging Owen’s competence. Celina saw the boy swell with pride as Cooper winked at him.
Celina widened her eyes. “I love that song. Would you play it for me?”
When Owen nodded, Celina started for the living room, following him. She gave Cooper a supportive smile as she passed and he smiled back, gratitude in his eyes.
As Owen plugged his guitar into a small amp, Celina heard Melinda’s voice, sharp as steel in the kitchen. “You promised me you’d never bring one of them here.”
One of them. Girlfriend? Taskforce agent? Celina couldn’t make out Cooper’s reply, only the low sound of his voice, but Melinda’s came through loud and clear again. “She shouldn’t be here. I won’t have her here. She’s a danger to Owen. To you.”
And then the rest of the conversation was lost as Owen placed his fingers on the strings, the first chords of Dirty Little Secret filling the room.
Thirty minutes later, the smell of cooking filled Cooper’s nostrils as he opened the bathroom door. Bacon, eggs, toast, onion, and pepper scents made him breathe deeply. The sound of a pan banging into another, a piece of silverware hitting a bowl, echoed down the hallway. Homey sounds, he thought. Like someone lives here besides me.
He’d showered, shaved, and tried to figure out what he was going to do with Owen and Celina both.
Worst-case Scenario One: he let Celina go to L.A. with Thomas and Valquis snagged her.
Worst-case Scenario Two: he kept her home with him and Owen, and Valquis snagged Owen.
Cooper’s gut hurt at either thought. He couldn’t keep them together without risking Owen’s life and that was one thing he would never do.
Celina was at the stove, moving a spatula around in a pan of scrambled eggs. Her back was to him as she stared down at the food in front of her, but she wasn’t standing at the stove alone. Thomas was leaning one elbow on the counter, his body open toward her as he stared up at her face, smiling. He was entirely invading her personal space, talking in a soft, low voice, and waiting expectantly for…what? Was he trying to coax a smile out of her?
Worst-case Scenario not involving Petero Valquis or Emilio Londano: Celina fell for his partner.
And they lived happily ever after. Right under Cooper’s nose.
“Hey, Dad.” Owen sat at the kitchen bar, scooping scrambled eggs into his mouth, a crispy slice of bacon in one hand. He had a tall glass of orange juice in front of him as well as a second glass full of milk. A milk mustache was growing on his top lip.
Cooper was all Owen had standing between him and a cruel psychotic killer. Celina, while vulnerable because of her injury, was still a trained FBI agent with a host of her Fed counterparts and the entire SCVC taskforce trying to protect her. She didn’t need Cooper. She had Thomas.
“Hey, buddy.” Cooper gave Owen’s head a rub as he walked by him.
Thomas nodded at Cooper but didn’t give up his stance next to Celina. She turned from the stove and smiled at Cooper. “Are you hungry? I made breakfast.”
“Smells good.” Cooper set his empty coffee mug on the counter and refilled it from the pot. His cutting board was out with a sloppy pile of diced tomato, onion, and pepper sitting beside a chopping knife. A loaf of bread was open, the toaster humming as it did its thing.
“Thomas, pour Cooper some orange juice,” Celina ordered and Thomas blinked at her. He straightened up slowly when Celina waved the spatula at him before she flipped a pile of hash browns over in a second skillet.
The younger man gave her a half-salute and ignored Cooper’s smile. Cooper joined his son at the breakfast bar, watching Celina cooking at his stove. He liked seeing her there. Liked having someone in his kitchen fussing over him. It had been a long time and only now did he realize how he’d missed spending these little everyday moments with someone. He wished he could stop time at the moment and just enjoy it.
And he wished like hell Thomas would fall over and die.
While he was at it, he’d throw in a wish that Londano and Valquis would go straight to hell and stay there.
Five minutes later, Cooper was scooping up scrambled eggs topped with the tomato and onion mixture. The bacon was crisp, the hash browns were perfectly browned, and the juice was cold.
But Owen was now off in the living room watching cartoons and Thomas was sitting next to Cooper, eating his own pile of eggs and hash browns, and sending Cooper distinctive male posturing messages.
Cooper ignored his younger partner and focused on his food.
“Hot sauce,” Celina said, plunking a bottle on the bar next to Cooper’s plate. “I figured you’d want some on your eggs.”
She stood on the other side, munching toast and casting furtive glances at Cooper’s plate to see what he was eating. He caught her gaze and held it. “Thanks, but it doesn’t need any. It tastes delicious just the way it is.”
He winked at her and she blushed.
His cell phone rang; caller ID saying it was Dyer.
“Navarette found GHB in Forester’s blood,” Dyer said without preamble.
“The date rape drug?”
“Yep. Probably how Valquis got him in the laundry cart and out of the hotel without a fight. Navarette believes he was only tased afterwards, like after the drug wore off.”
Switching gears, Cooper lowered the phone from his mouth and said to Celina, “You ordered room service that night at the hotel, right?”
“Forester ordered a pizza,” she said.
“He drink anything with it?”
“A Coke.”
“You drink any?”
Celina shook her head. “I drank the Dew you brought.”
Cooper raised the phone back to his lips. “Is it possible Val meant the GHB for Celina?”
“Anything’s possible. Navarette said there was a significant amount in Forester’s blood. If Valquis intended it for Celina, he meant for her to die.”
Cooper stared at Celina across the counter, a white-hot rage poking at his gut. “Make sure Carlsbad PD checks the remains from the food service tray to see what they can find.”
“Already called Sam. You going to L.A. for the news conference?”
“No,” Cooper said, hating the word. “But you are. The conference is scheduled for eleven o’clock. Thomas and Celina will pick you up in thirty minutes.”
Cooper saw Thomas stop eating out of the corner of his eye. Give him a look. There was a slight pause on the other end. “Coop, you know I’d do anything for you. I’d give my life for Celina. But I can’t protect her from Valquis if it comes down to it.”
Turning the bar stool, he faced Thomas. “Val isn’t the one that worries me,” he said softly and saw understanding flash in Thomas’s eyes. Saw the grin tweak the corners of his partner’s mouth as he tried to hide it behind his glass of milk.
“Thirty minutes,” Cooper said into the phone. “Be ready.”
“Where are they going?” Owen said from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at him as Cooper ended his call. Owen moved his gaze from his dad to Celina. “Can I go too?” he asked her.
“It’s a news conference at FBI headquarters in Los Angeles,” she told him. “Boring stuff for a kid.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about a fugitive. A bad man who escaped prison and is hurting people. Your dad and Thomas and I are trying to stop him.”
“Uncle Dyer too?”
“Yes. Uncle Dyer too. A lot of people, FBI, DEA, and some others are all working together to stop the bad guy.”
“The news conference,” Cooper told Owen, “is to let everyone know what this bad guy has done and to warn them to stay away from him and call the police if they see him.”
“I saw his picture on the news last night.” Owen pointed at Celina’s wrist. “He’s the man who hurt you, isn’t he?”
Celina nodded.
“Can kids come to FBI headquarters?”
“No,” Thomas said in unison with Cooper.
The truth was, kids could and did often come to FBI headquarters to the daycare services on the fifth floor while mom or dad worked. Cooper knew if Celina called Dupé, she could get permission to bring Owen, but she wouldn’t do it, even if Cooper wanted her to.
From the way her eyes avoided his and the set of her lips thinned to a tight line, Cooper knew she was about to leave him, whether he liked it or not.
He definitely did not like it.
Chapter Thirty-one
Owen needs a dog, Celina thought. A big-hearted Golden Retriever who would follow the boy around, lie down beside him, and listen to him talk. A silent but kind friend who would give him undivided attention and never send him out of the room or make him feel uncomfortable.
It was easier to think about Owen than her own predicament. Easier to conjure images of Owen and a dog chasing each other in Cooper’s yard, jumping in the pool and sleeping in front of the television. It was easier to imagine Owen burying his face in the soft fur of a lovable dog than to watch Cooper’s stiff posture and damning stare as she climbed into Thomas’s hybrid car.
It had to end here, with her walking away. Being around her made Cooper and Owen easy targets, and she loved Cooper too much to go on endangering him, endangering his son’s future. She’d known she’d have to leave him, stop their relationship even as she sat on his bed seducing him that morning.
A desperate sadness welled up inside her. This was it. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine, preparing to leave Cooper behind as Thomas started the car. She shut her eyes against the sun, against Cooper’s glare. Deep inside, she wanted him to knock on the window, stop Thomas from pulling away, and beg her to be careful. Anything. A gesture to let her know he loved her.
As the car made its way down the long, sloping drive, there was no knock on her window, no shout telling Thomas to stop. In her mind, Celina called up Owen’s face again, a smile breaking over it as he ran with the imaginary dog through his father’s backyard. He was safe. Cooper was safe. That was all that mattered.
“Don’t lose her,” Cooper said to Dyer on his cell phone. He stood in his driveway watching Thomas’s car drive out of sight.
“Of course not,” Dyer replied, his voice edged with impatience. “Did you tell her how you feel?”
Cooper moved the phone away from his mouth, blew out a tight breath. Re
turned the mouth piece to his lips. “Of course not.”
“Why the hell not?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Jesus, you’re a jackass. You just blew what is probably your only chance to tell her you love her.”
“I don’t—” Cooper stopped himself. Could he honestly say he didn’t love her?
He could say it, but he’d be blowing smoke. Dyer wouldn’t believe him.
“Save the denial. You’re in love with her and she’ll be going home with Thomas after the news conference. Or maybe she’ll come back here with me. But I guarantee she will not come back to you.”
Cooper squinted at his now empty driveway. “What are you talking about?”
“The table has turned, my friend. Celina now feels responsible for you. She told me she was leaving you because she didn’t want to cause you problems. Not with Melinda. Not with Owen. And especially not with Londano.”
From the moment she’d told Owen no, that he couldn’t come to FBI headquarters, Cooper had known Celina’s intentions. Maybe even before that. In his bedroom, when she’d told him she was going to the news conference…maybe then he knew it. Felt it in his bones. “She can’t possibly believe—”
“Hell, yeah, she does. She believes in you and she believes in happy endings. Only, I think you’ve finally convinced her there will never be a happy ending for you and her.”
“I couldn’t lead her on. We don’t have a future together.”
“Like I said, you’re a jackass.”
“Why is it other people disagree with you, they’re blockheads, but with me, I’m a jackass?”
“Because you are.”
“Anything new on the investigation?”
There was a slight pause as Dyer gave up the inquisition and shifted gears. “Londano’s right-hand man south of the border made an impromptu move last night. Allende’s been on holiday in Cozumel for the past two weeks. He came rushing back home to Mexico City last night.”
