DADDY WITH A BADGE

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "I assume you told her you'd filed for divorce."

  "I tried. She got hysterical, so her therapist and I decided to downplay it until the divorce was final."

  Rafe used the bread to sop up the last of the clam sauce. His appetite would have been gratifying if she weren't so worried about Lyssa. When his plate was empty he pushed it aside and reached for his coffee again. Instead of drinking, however, he gazed down at the contents for a long moment before settling those startling green eyes on her face.

  "Guess there's no easy way to say this except straight out. There's a possibility your marriage isn't legal."

  She stared, her heart thudding. "But … but we went to a justice of the peace recommended by the captain of the ship. He assured us a Mexican marriage was recognized as legal in the States."

  "I'm sure it is. But Folsom did use an alias which clouds the issue." He took a sip then, draining the mug before returning it to the mat. "There's something else, too. We found Folsom by running a trace on marriage licenses. Back in '85, he married a woman in Bellingham, Washington. She still lives there." His expression turned gentle. "Unless he divorced her without her knowledge, they're still married."

  Her mouth went dry. "What … what did Jonathan say about that?"

  "Nothing about his marriage. Told her the arrest warrant was simply a case of mistaken identity. She believed him."

  She felt a sharp pang of disgust, most of it directed against herself for being equally gullible. "Why shouldn't she believe him? The Weasel's an expert at lying to women." Suddenly she felt the baby give a hard kick, and she uttered a startled gasp.

  Alarm shot into Rafe's eyes. "Are you okay?" he demanded in a sharp tone.

  She gave a shaky laugh. "The little stinker just gave me a heck of a hard wallop. It's the first time it's actually hurt."

  His gaze dropped to her stomach and lingered. For a moment she thought he looked sad. "Picked out a name yet?"

  "Not yet. Lyssa and I have been going through a book of names. Lys was named for Mark's grandmother so I never really had a choice." She took a sip of milk. "There've been some interesting studies on the impact of a person's name on their personality, and even their choice of profession. For example, one researcher found a statistically significant number of surgeons named Cutter."

  He lifted his brows. "Folsom is the name of a prison. Think that's an omen?"

  "I fervently hope so." She smiled. "Did you know that Rafael means a gift from God?"

  His face closed up. "I was named for Rosaria's oldest brother who was drowned trying to swim the Rio Grande."

  "Stacy MacAuliffe who lives on the other side of Case and Prudy named her oldest daughter Victoria as an affirmation after her ex-husband raped her." She stared at the lavender roses in the pale blue vase in the center of the table. "I want this baby to have a strong name. A … brave name." Suddenly self-conscious, she lifted her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get philosophical."

  He gave a little shrug. "Guess my question would be whose name you're going to put down as the father?"

  "Certainly not Jonathan's. I … oh my God, if we aren't legally married, that means this baby is a—" She stopped abruptly, her face turning hot.

  "A bastard," Rafe finished for her in a voice without expression.

  "Legally, I suppose that's true. Fortunately, being born to a single parent is perfectly acceptable in today's times." But was it really?

  "Can't help wondering how El Jefe will take to having a bastard grandchild, though," Rafe said, watching her with enigmatic eyes.

  "He'll be fine with it," she declared firmly.

  It was there again, that hard glinting look that shivered through her from the inside out. "Guess it's different when it's his own flesh and blood at that."

  "He always liked you, Rafe."

  "But not enough to accept me as a son-in-law."

  She took a breath. "Would you have married me if Eddie had given you the choice?"

  "Yes, I would have married you. And it would have been hell for both of us."

  "I know it would have been difficult, but—"

  "Not difficult, impossible. All I had to offer you was one third of a bed in a trailer with seven other people."

  She frowned. "Don't be ridiculous, Rafe. We would have lived in my house until we finished school."

  "No, Danni, we wouldn't. A man provides for his own wife. He doesn't accept handouts." His face shuttered, he got to his feet and picked up his plate. "Finished?" he asked, glancing at hers which was still half full.

  "Yes, but I'll take care of the dishes," she said hastily, pushing back her chair. "You're a guest."

  His grin flashed, folding those irresistible creases into his cheeks. "I intend to be more than that, Princess." This time the look in his eyes was far too easy to read. Her body turned soft inside, and her breath seemed to shiver through her throat.

  It stunned her to discover how vulnerable she was to him, even now. As soon as she'd felt his mouth settle over hers, she'd held nothing back, perhaps because she'd had no warning, no time to erect defenses.

  Instinct told her he hadn't planned to kiss her. She could have resisted deliberate charm. No, it hadn't been contrived or, she suspected, even expected, that wild conflagration that had flared between them. Now, however, her body felt incredibly relaxed for the first time in months. Silk inside as well as out.

  "I'm not ready to make that decision, Rafe," she said, for her benefit as well as his. "I may never be ready."

  "I've waited twenty years. Guess I can wait a little longer." His grin flashed again, as potent as wine on an empty stomach. "But not forever."

  For sex, not marriage, she thought as he turned to carry both plates to the sink. When she didn't move, couldn't move, he shot her a glance over his shoulder.

  "Go talk to your daughter, Danni," he ordered quietly. "Right now, I suspect she needs you even more than I do."

  * * *

  "Jody's mom let her get a whole new outfit just for the party," Lyssa muttered dejectedly as she tossed another rejected top onto the mound of discards on the bed. "All the other girls will probably have on new stuff, too. Everyone's seen everything I own about a million times."

  "What about this one?" Danni asked a little desperately as she took a silky chartreuse blouse from the back of the closet. "Look, it's still got the price tag on it," she added triumphantly. "No one can possibly have seen it."

  Lys dismissed the pretty top with a disgusted look. "That's because the color makes me look putrid." Lys sat down on the edge of the bed and stared up at her angrily. "I'm not going unless I get something new."

  Sighing, Danni returned the top to the closet before turning to face her unhappy daughter again. "Sweetheart, I wish you could get a dozen new things, I really do, but we just don't have the money right now."

  "You could ask Grandpa Mancini or Grandpa Fabrizio. They have lots of money."

  "I could, but I won't," Danni said firmly. She'd drawn the line herself. Only in the case of an emergency like the need for transportation or money for Lyssa's medical care would she ask for help. It was a matter of pride, and since that was about all she had left, she didn't intend to squander it on trivialities.

  Lyssa's face turned red as her Italian temper let loose. "You just want to punish me because Jonathan loves me better than you!"

  Danni stared. "What are you talking about?"

  Her eyes glistened with angry tears and her mouth trembled. "He said I was his own special girl, just like Daddy always said."

  "Perhaps you were," she said carefully. "But he still left us."

  "You must have done something to make him go away."

  "Of course I didn't, Lyssa. I loved Jonathan. Or the man I thought Jonathan was. But he was lying—"

  "He wasn't! You can't make me believe that! You must have said something to him. Something mean and hurtful." Her voice broke, and the tears overflowed. Angrily, she dashed them away. "I hate you for driving him away!"


  Even though Danni realized that it was healthy for her daughter to vent her emotions, the violence of Lys's feelings shook her to the core. Where had this come from? "Lyssa, listen to me, you're upset, but—"

  "He's probably tried to call me and you won't give me the message because you're jealous."

  Danni took a step forward, only to have Lyssa leap from the bed and move out of her mother's reach. Danni stopped and dropped her arms to her sides.

  "Of course I would tell you, but he hasn't called either of us," she said, digging deep for the patience and understanding Lyssa needed right now.

  "How do I know that?" Lyssa lashed out, her eyes flashing. "How do I know you're not the one who's lying?"

  Her legs were suddenly unsteady, and bile scoured her throat. She swallowed, but the sickening taste remained. "Because I've never lied to you," she declared in a low soothing tone designed to defuse the anger.

  "Then tell me where he is!" The desperate note of pleading in Lys's voice reminded her of how young and vulnerable her daughter really was.

  Aching inside, she took a deep breath, determined to tell Lyssa the truth, but the words dammed in her throat. It was the wrong time to tell her about Jonathan's arrest. First she needed to prepare her.

  "Lyssa, honey, I know this is difficult for you to accept, but Jonathan isn't the person you thought he was. In fact, he was even using an assumed name. His real name is Jacob Peter Folsom, and he's conned a lot of other women before me."

  "I don't believe you!" Lyssa shouted, the anger surging back. "You're lying!"

  "No, she's not, Lyssa," Rafe said from the open doorway. There was steel in his deep voice that had Lys's eyes widening. "Your mother is only trying to spare you more pain."

  Danni realized what he was about to do, and lifted her hand to stop him. "Rafe, don't," she pleaded quickly. "She's upset."

  "If she wants to be treated like an adult, she'd better start behaving like one instead of throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat."

  Lyssa's jaw dropped before she rounded on her mother. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that?"

  Danni's own temper spiked, but she managed to keep it from showing. Later, when this was all over, her daughter definitely needed an attitude adjustment. "Lyssa, please. Rafe's only trying to help."

  Lyssa's face was scarlet and her eyes were filled with a desperate kind of fury. "He doesn't belong here. Tell him to go away, Mommy."

  Danni felt her stomach lurch, and drew a quick breath as she gave Rafe a beseeching look. "Maybe you should go."

  Irritation crossed his face, giving it a harsh look. "You don't need this kind of grief right now, Danni."

  "Please, Rafe. Let me handle this my own way." Rafe took in Danni's shadowed eyes, and knew what it was to feel both frustration and tenderness. The first he dealt with on a daily basis. All cops did. It was the latter that shocked him. He hadn't even known the man he'd become was capable of tenderness.

  "Twenty minutes," he said, giving in with great reluctance. "After that, I'm handling it my way whether you agree or not."

  * * *

  Rafe was standing at the front window, looking out at the lights of Vancouver, Washington, on the other side of the river. In his hand was the ubiquitous mug. The man seemed to live on coffee, she thought wearily. As she stepped into the living room he turned a searching gaze her way. "Well?" he demanded impatiently.

  Danni didn't bother to hide her resentment of his highhanded behavior. "I told her. She didn't take it well, but I finally got her calmed down. I came down to make her some hot chocolate."

  "I'll do it. You sit down before you collapse."

  "I'm not about to collapse," she exclaimed angrily. The need to vent was stronger than her will to resist, she realized as she took another quick breath. "Ever since you walked into this house last Friday night you've done nothing but issue orders and expect everyone around here to say 'how high should I jump, master'?"

  His expression turned sardonic. "Not you, Daniela. If you're not hanging over the john or folding up like some kind of melodramatic heroine, you're letting your daughter treat you like garbage, like no mother should ever be treated. So, yeah, somebody needs to take charge. Since I don't see anyone else stepping forward, I guess I get the job by default."

  That stung. She refused to let it show. "Point taken," she said coolly. "Now, if you're quite done, don't let the door hit you on the way out, Agent Cardoza."

  His grin flashed. She told herself she was immune. "That lady of the manor thing you do so well might work with some guys, Danni, but I remember how the Princess begged the peasant boy to make her a woman."

  She sucked in hard, and her face grew hot. Tears of humiliation pressed her throat. "Did you enjoy it, Rafe? Having me beg?"

  Impatience crossed his face. "I'm damned tired of getting slammed because I wanted your first time to be a lot more special than that would have been." His jaw tightened. "God knows, if I had it to do over again, you never would have left that pond a virgin."

  She glared at him. "That wasn't my choice," she muttered. "I was willing."

  "Believe me, honey, I remember!"

  She saw the gritty frustration on his face and realized she was only wasting precious energy arguing. "Oh go ahead and do whatever you want to," she muttered, sinking into her favorite corner of the sofa. "When you're done, however, we're going to get some things straight, you and I."

  His mouth thinned. "Count on it."

  * * *

  Bypassing the living room, Rafe took the hot chocolate directly upstairs. Lyssa's room clearly belonged to a younger child who would appreciate the frilly curtains and canopy bed. A doll collection occupied the top two shelves of a built-in bookcase encompassing one entire wall. The lower shelves were filled with children's games and books.

  The lights in the room had been extinguished, but there was enough light pouring through the door for him to see Lyssa curled into a fetal position beneath the pink-and-white checked comforter. Cheek buried in the pillow, she glared at him as he approached.

  "I wish Jonathan had shot you and run away when you tried to arrest him," she said in a fierce little voice.

  Rafe ached for the kid. Disillusionment was a bitch and a half. "You're entitled to wish anything you want, sweetheart."

  "Don't call me that! I hate you."

  He put the cup and saucer on the table next to a lamp with a fringed shade. "You won't believe this now, Lyssa, but there are some people in this world who are pure evil. They don't care about anyone or anything but their own wants and needs and pleasures. The man who married your mother is one of those people. He'll say or do anything to get what he wants. He used her and he used you to fill his own pockets. He's done it before and if we don't find a way to lock him up for a long time, he'll do it again."

  Her face darkened. "You're right, I don't believe you."

  "I'm sorry about that." He hesitated, then sat down on the side of the bed. With a little cry of protest, she scooted to the far side of the mattress. He refused to let her see his annoyance. "Your mother loves you very much, Lyssa. You are the most important thing in the world to her, and that's the way it should be. But she's also under a great deal of stress right now. I don't know if anyone told you how sick she was on Friday night."

  "It was just the flu," she grumbled. "She was already feeling better when I got home."

  His patience thinned, but held by a thread. "She's going to have a baby. That takes a toll on a woman even under the best of circumstances. And your mom's not as young as she was when she had you, which makes it even rougher on her. She needs your help, not more stress."

  Guilt crossed her face, and she closed her eyes. There was more he figured needed saying, but he remembered Danni at this age. Getting her to admit she might be wrong on the first try had been damn near impossible, so he'd learned to coax her into it, little by little.

  "Given how smart your mom is, I figure you're no slouch in the brains department. So why don't you
think about all your mom has been through these past couple of years and see if you can't figure out some things you could do to make it easier on her?"

  She didn't react. He realized he was disappointed. So much for his wise old uncle act, he thought as he got to his feet.

  "Good night, niña," he said quietly. "Sweet dreams."

  "Go to hell," she muttered before pulling the covers over her head.

  * * *

  Telling himself he was damn glad Lyssa wasn't his problem—and never would be—Rafe headed downstairs. Braced for the blast he figured was coming, he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when he arrived in the living room to find Danni curled up into the sofa cushions, sound asleep.

  He rubbed his hand over his heart, then realized what he was doing and shoved it into his pocket instead. Because he wanted to settle down beside her and cradle her in his lap, he turned instead and walked toward the kitchen.

  Committed to truly being off duty for a few hours at least, he'd left both his cell phone and his beeper in the briefcase along with his weapon. Frowning, he took the card with the motel's number from his wallet and punched out the numbers on the wall phone.

  "Room 112, please," he said when the switchboard answered.

  Seth answered on the second ring. Rafe heard a ballgame in the background. "Gresham, here."

  "I'm bunking out tonight. Pick me up at Dr. Fabrizio's at seven tomorrow."

  "Got lucky, did you, compadre?"

  "None of your damn business, and if you don't want to end up guarding some congressman's dog for the next twenty years, you'll pretend we didn't have this conversation."

  "What conversation?"

  Rafe waited to chuckle until the line went dead. The kid had potential, he thought as he switched off the light and left the kitchen.

  * * *

  It was the usual middle-of-the-night call of nature that woke Danni a little past midnight. Her neck was stiff and her arm had fallen asleep. She wiggled her fingers, then winced when pins and needles ran through from the fingers to her shoulder.

  The living room was dark, but Rafe had left the light on in the entry before he left. He'd obviously draped the duvet from the bed upstairs over her as well. Moving slowly, she uncoiled her legs and dropped them to the floor.