by Janet Eaves
“Both.” He glanced at Lillie. “Jim’s outside. Go see what he’s got.”
Lilly shoved the last of her pastry into her mouth and jumped to her feet. She chewed quickly, swallowed, then flashed Polly a smile. “Do you need anything?”
Polly shook her head. “No. Go. I’m good.” She grinned though her heart felt weighed down. By now, she should have been used to the dynamics of the two best friends and their loving husbands. The women kidded each other all the time about how wonderful and fulfilling their lives were. And sex, in all its forms, was discussed between them—a lot. At first it made her uncomfortable. Now it only made her jealous. Not only that she didn’t have a man who adored her and babies already here or on the way, but that she wasn’t a real part of the friendship the women shared, even though she knew they were doing their best to include her.
The problem wasn’t with them—they were great. The problem was clearly hers. She just couldn’t get past some invisible wall that made her hold back even when… no, especially when, they tried to get close.
Staying emotionally detached had been a great and necessary part of who she was when she was working for both agencies. Being a sniper—slash—assassin for the Federal Government had utilized skills she’d been born with and learned growing up on her parent’s farm just outside of town. Her God-given ability to learn quickly and adapt to whatever and whoever the Agency need her to be, along with learning to shoot and hunt with a father who made her into the son he’d never had, had moved her quickly though channels that would have taken much longer otherwise. But the one thing she hadn’t been born with, or been taught, made her even more valuable as a killing machine.
Both her mother and father, two people who had never harmed another, had been murdered in cold blood during a weekend trip to Memphis, a holiday her mother had planned for with such excitement. Something inside of her had died that day. She had gone from being a happy-go-lucky girl into a cold-hearted bitch according to some, and a useful cog in the giant government wheel to others.
Her need to find her parent’s killers and take vengeance had been her only life’s mission. One of the FBI agents working the case had found and interviewed her during his investigation. He’d seen something in her, perhaps it was desperation, perhaps naiveté. Whatever it was, he’d come looking for her months later and redirected her life, and her mission, from one of vengeance to one of justice. Although there were times she wasn’t sure there was a difference.
After her initial training, she’d needed an alter ego. One who could walk through society like everyone else, or more importantly be invisible. The agency had a special plan for her there, too. Those she’d worked with in D.C. knew she handled witness relocation for both the innocent and the guilty when that need was warranted. What even her immediate supervisor didn’t know was that she hid the people he assigned, and sometimes, when those above his head gave the order, she disposed of them permanently. Since those who were assigned to her only reported to her if their relocation had been compromised, no one ever questioned her actions or the lack of communication following a protection move.
It was ironic really. She was known as “The Eraser.” The agent who was so good at hiding her charges that nobody outside or inside the agency could find them, when what she really was, was a fraud. A liar. A killer.
It wasn’t something she could do anymore. The driving need for vengeance following her parent’s murders had long since lost its sting. The patriotic fervor that had allowed her to kill another human being had mellowed. She still had great love for her country, but the thought of killing again just wasn’t in her.
“Polly? Are you in there?”
Polly blinked, then blushed, realizing she’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t been paying attention. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”
Suzie rose with the baby and stood in front of her. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Polly nodded. “Fine. Just a little tired. Please go on.”
Suzie studied her a moment then nodded. She walked to the kitchen door to join her husband. They paused, side by side, Brad’s arm around her, the child nestled snuggly between them. “Catcher said he’d be over in a couple of hours. Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”
Yes, please stay and remind me of all that I have missed out on. “Not on your life. Go play. I’ll deal with him.”
Suzie’s eyes sparkled. “I just bet you will. I’ll have Martha come over later if we decide to stay out late.”
Polly held up her hand. “Please don’t—don’t send anyone. I’m fine. I need to start taking care of myself.”
Uncertainty clouded Suzie’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Completely.”
“Well then,” Suzie grinned. “I’m off to play.”
Finally alone, Polly turned her chair so she could feel the wind on her face. Peace and quiet were one of the lovely benefits of staying that the Bed & Breakfast. Suzie’s business was a reflection of the woman herself: a little of this, and a little of that, and a lot of whimsy thrown in.
The Victorian structure was decorated in beach colors—soft turquoise, aqua’s, and sand, with pops of deep blue glassware and beading. Lush green plants in every imaginable size fought for space with freestanding art. The exterior was a soft yellow, which made her think of a large sun in the middle of an incredibly diverse and exceptionally well tended garden. The house sat well back from Lake Road at the front, and led through a small forest to Legend Lake at the back. If she was ever truly free of The Agency, she’d love to have something as secluded.
She closed her eyes, absorbing the silence of the afternoon. As time passed, she heard the things that made-up the great outdoors beyond the mesh covered windows. The buzz of busy insects flying around. The call of birds to one another. The wind swooshing through the trees and around the house as the breeze periodically increased then waned.
Her head bobbed, making her realize she was nodding off. The thought of a nap, on her cool sheets, seemed just the ticket. After all, Catcher wasn’t due to pick her up quite yet, and she had the house all to herself.
Polly made her way to her room, stripped off the large cotton shirt Catcher dropped off with the shorts earlier, and worked off the sweat pants she’d chosen to wear that morning in spite of Catcher’s instructions. She pulled back the comforter and slid between the sheets, enjoying the coolness against her skin. Within seconds, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Six
Catcher sat on one of the many wooden benches situated at the south-easternmost corner of Legend Park. The family friendly facility, with its large jungle-gym, assortment of picnic tables, and bandstand type gazebo, was located just off Main Street, directly across from The Old Meeting House, which was purported to be the first brick building erected in Legend.
The morning couldn’t have been more perfect, weather-wise. Unfortunately, the weather seemed to be the only good thing that was going to happen today. He was waiting for his contact, a Michael Baits, who would update him on the agency’s decisions regarding his request. The information they needed to share was too sensitive to discuss over cell phones. Though he felt the possibility of anyone in Legend monitoring the airwaves slim, he couldn’t take any chances.
He was worried. The agent was two hours late and he was going to have to leave soon to take Polly to the doctor. That visit, with her attitude about going, wasn’t exactly going to improve his day. He shook his head, torn between aggravation and admiration for the agent he’d all but worshiped since first learning about her. She had perfected a skill in helping others, making it an art form, and he’d been smitten for a long time. When he’d found out she’d been severely injured he’d jumped at the chance to be the one to bring her back.
The Agency brass made it clear that he was being handed one of their most important agents. That he was to do whatever it took to get her back on her feet and ready to resume her duties. And if he couldn’t do the job, the
y would send someone who could. When he’d expressed curiosity regarding their obvious anxiety in regards to Agent Chapman’s health, he’d learned some things about her that had literally knocked him for a loop.
Now he wasn’t so sure how he felt about the woman, but he did know that his feelings didn’t weighin. He had a job to do and he would do it. And if Polly Chapman knew what was good for her, she’d work as hard as she could to get healthy. If she couldn’t, they were both up a creek.
“Stevens?”
Startled, Catcher looked up from his position on the bench. He had to place his hands over his eyes as the sun haloed the man’s form, casting the man’s features in shadow, and nearly blinding him. When he started to rise, a firm hand pressed him back down. With pinpoints of light dancing in his sun-scalded eyes, he fleetingly noted the three writhing, entwined snakes tattooed on the agents wrist.
“Stay still and listen. I’m being followed.”
Catcher’s heart kicked inside his chest as his attention was drawn to the agent’s statement. The day was getting worse quickly. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve been tailed since leaving Washington. Take these,” he said, slipping Catcher a thin yellow envelope. “Took hours but I think I lost whoever it was, but keep your eyes open. Don’t follow me out.”
Catcher stayed where he was as the agent pivoted, then walked towards the front entrance of the heavily treed park. Fortunately, he’d parked to the south of the park, in the large lumber filled lot of the local Farmer’s Co-op, and only had to slip out through the black iron gate behind the large bandstand.
He diligently perused his surroundings but saw nothing out of place as he made his way to his car, then continually checked his mirrors as he drove. Once he was certain that he was completely alone, he headed to the B&B, hoping whatever was going down didn’t have anything to do with his client.
Chapter Seven
“You’re doing great. Keep it up.”
Polly wanted to throw the seven pound dumbbells she held in each hand at Catcher. For the last two weeks, she’d worked as hard as her body had allowed, which had been a real eye-opener since her body didn’t respond as it once had. Not even close.
“Okay, take a break.”
Exhaling heavily, Polly lowered the weights to the bench. “I’m not getting any stronger,” she panted, disappointed.
Catcher walked over and straddled the bench next to her. As always, he smelled heavenly and looked like the poster child for sun-kissed, healthy living. She licked the scar on her lip, something she did whenever the urge to take a taste of him surfaced.
She didn’t know when it happened. Whether it was the kind way he’d handled her when she first started working horribly lax muscles. Or the way he made her forget she was as ugly as an old tree stump when he took her out and about, making her laugh at life again with his slightly sardonic sense of humor. She flexed her fingers, as they always got stiff after she’d held the weights for a long time.
“Yes, you are. You’ve improved a lot. You can’t undo months of inactivity in a couple of weeks.”
And then there were times she just wanted to pinch him.
He took her hands and started massaging them, something he did often, and something that always sent tingles up her arms. He touched her in one way or another, all the time, seemingly oblivious of the fact that her body was still alive enough to become aroused.
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes on his, as his masterful hands slid up her arms, spreading those tingles across her chest, pebbling her nipples. His gaze flew from his hands to her eyes; a slight smile touched his lips. “Feel good?”
Polly nodded, hoping he had no idea what he was doing to her. “I wish the rest of me felt as good.” She flushed. “I mean, as loose.” Oh, heck! Not any better. “I’m still so stiff,” she clarified, completely mortified that he nearly had her stuttering.
Catcher studied her seriously, then nodded as if he’d come to some profound conclusion. “Come with me.”
He pulled her to her feet and, keeping a hold on her hand, walked from the freestanding garage Brad Matthews had built soon after Polly arrived. The ever-generous Matthews had done so much for her, making the new garage into a weight room to help with her therapy. And there was no way she would ever be able to repay them for all their support, though she was certain her employer had seen to everything financial.
Polly tried to hide the smile tickling her lips. No doubt, the money paying for her recovery came from the government’s secret fund. A fund that was built on five hundred dollar wrenches, and thousand dollar toilet seats. After all, she didn’t exist, so company insurance was out of the question.
Soon they arrived at the sun porch. He released her long enough to push all the furniture to the walls, flipped on the small stereo receiver in the back corner of the room, adjust the knob to a station with the sounds of soft string music, and then he pulled her into his arms.
Heart pounding, Polly followed his lead, swaying to the music, unable to say a word. She closed her eyes, trusting in his ability to move her safely around the room. Relaxing as much as her aroused body would allow, she laid her head against his jaw. “I used to love to dance,” she confessed, mostly to distract herself from attacking him.
Catcher turned his head towards her, and whispered in her ear. “Used to?”
Polly nearly moaned aloud as his breath tickled her ear. Keep talking, she told herself. Just keep talking. “Yes. I did have a normal social life, when I wasn’t working.”
Catcher moved slowly, pressed against her, making her think of other things she used to do. Refusing to consider the consequences, she lifted tired arms and ran her fingers through his silky curls. She smiled to herself when he pulled her even closer. Snuggling in, she nuzzled his neck, tempted, but not really bold enough to kiss it, or him.
Aching desire was something she hadn’t experienced since her injuries. Whether it had to do with the maniac who’d taken her down, or the broken body she barely recognized as her own, she couldn’t tell. But she felt it now, perhaps as strongly as ever, and she wanted so badly to give into it. “Catcher?”
“Hum?”
“This is wonderful.”
He turned, lowered his head, placing his lips barely an inch from hers, before dipping her back, forcing her back into an arch. Slowly he pulled her back up and stepped back, releasing her. “See? All you need to do is relax. You aren’t as stiff as you thought.”
Catcher reached over and turned off the radio, and Polly decided pinching wasn’t good enough for him. She was going to have to kill him.
****
“I saw you guys dancing,” Suzie said, grinning as she furiously chopped broccoli and carrots without even looking down at her cutting board.
“It was therapy.”
Suzie raised her brows and stopped chopping. “If that was therapy, I want some.”
“Down, woman,” Brad commanded from the kitchen table, smiling at his wife while he bounced their son on his knee.
“Oh, take Peter and change him, please. I can smell him from here.”
Brad made a face at Polly. “This has nothing to do with my son’s diaper. She just wants to get me out of the way so she can grill you.”
“Out!” Suzie commanded, then patted her husband’s butt as he passed by with an, “I’ll grill you later, babe.”
Polly couldn’t help the envy. There was just so much a woman could witness, she decided, before jealousy reared its ugly head. “You guys have it all.”
Smiling at the complement, Suzie snagged a bar stool and sat next to Polly. “Okay, we know I’m getting sex regularly, what about you?”
“Straight to the point.”
Suzie shrugged. “No sense in wasting time. So what gives? Orgasm, or no orgasm?”
Polly burst out laughing. “You are awful!”
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Suzie nodded. “I know. Sorry. Okay, so what’s the problem?”
�
��What do you mean? Stevens and I are just therapist and patient.”
Suzie made a ‘raspberry’ sound with her lips, then returned to her counter and cutting board. “Give me a break. Every time I see you two together either you have puppy eyes, or he has a hard-on.”
Seriously laughing now, Polly nearly fell off her stool. “Oh, shit! You have got to stop!”
“I’m serious. Have you seen the size of that man’s package or not?”
Shaking her head, Polly held her aching sides. “No!”
“Then we need to fix that.”
Polly couldn’t decide if she was more mortified or intrigued. “He isn’t attracted to me.” She made a face. “Who would be?”
Suzie looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous!”
Polly snarled her nose. “Please! I’m completely scarred.”
Suzie leaned over the counter, lifted her hand to Polly’s face and traced the pucker above and on top of her lip. She continued to study Polly’s face, her eyes lingering just a second longer on each of the remaining scars. “So, you have a few scars. They don’t define you, unless you let them.”
The laughter died within her. Suzie was right. She’d spent so much time mourning what she’d lost, she’d allowed herself to become not only one of Karl’s victims, but a permanent one. And not just in the physical sense. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then pulled Suzie’s face to her own and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “You are brilliant. Thanks!”
The startled look on the proprietress’ face had her laughing again.
“We’ve really got to get you a man.”
Polly bit her bottom lip to get herself under control. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so hard or felt so free. The impulsive move was certainly out of character for her, but it felt so good to do something without weighing the consequences first, that she couldn’t apologize. “Well, you deserved it. You crack me up.” She sobered. “And you’re so right. I guess I hadn’t realized that I’ve been stuck in my own funk.”
