DADDY WITH A BADGE

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  Danni considered, then frowned. "How much prison time would he have to serve for bigamy?"

  "Best case scenario, eighteen months. Realistically, half that."

  Next to her Rafe tipped back his chair, his gaze fixed on a spot on the wall opposite. Long blunt fingers laced over his flat midriff, he appeared relaxed, even disinterested. She knew he was anything but.

  Mark would have already made the decision for her, she realized. Dutiful wife that she'd been, she would have meekly acquiesced. Last night she'd accused Rafe of being arrogant and controlling. But maybe he was simply taking care of her again. Her big, sweet protector with a heart of gold.

  Her face softened as she called his name. Turning his head, his oddly brooding gaze sought hers. The impact was immediate, a shimmering feeling of awareness on so many levels. "Aren't you going to offer your take on this?" she asked.

  His mouth flattened. "Cut him loose and he'll rabbit before the ink is dry on the probation agreement."

  She took a careful breath. "The woman who … died, she wouldn't have let him plea bargain, would she?"

  She saw the truth in the depths of his silvery green eyes. "This has to be your decision, Danni." His voice had a rough burr of understanding that warmed her heart. "There's something I want you to consider carefully before you make it however."

  "What's that?"

  "If you reject this offer, and Folsom is released on bail, odds are he'll try to shut you up before you can testify the way he did Alice. The only way to protect you and Lyssa is to hide you someplace where he can't get to you. It could mean weeks, maybe months in seclusion."

  She felt a quick stab of fear. "I never thought of that," she admitted in a strained voice.

  Seth leaned forward to say, "Rafe's right, Doctor. Folsom is as ruthless as they come."

  She turned her attention inward, to the small precious child Folsom had given her. Could she really take the stand and testify against her baby's father? More significantly, could she put this child and Lyssa at risk for the sake of a principle? Out of a sense of morality and justice that a goodly segment of society considered outmoded?

  It was time she stopped caring what others thought or wanted or told her to think or want or do. It was time the Princess stepped out of the fairy tale and into the real world. Her jaw firmed, and a calm spread through her.

  "No deal." She meant to look at the prosecutor when she voiced her decision. Instead she found herself looking directly into Rafe's beautiful eyes.

  The flash of admiration she saw there was almost as comforting as a hug.

  * * *

  The hearing had been an anticlimax, a ritual repeated so many times it seemed almost like a play performed by rote by actors bored with their chosen roles.

  On the other hand, Judge Paul Bonaventure exactly fit Danni's idea of all a jurist should be. In his late forties or early fifties, he had lean, aesthetic features dominated by an impressive Roman nose and a resonant tenor voice. Seated at the bench which offered both majesty to his office and a superior vantage point from which to observe both participants and spectators, he'd exerted total control, both emotionally and procedurally.

  Even Tandy lost some of his studied flamboyance. Or perhaps he'd feared the judge's reaction. Given Judge Bonaventure's austere countenance and no-nonsense demeanor, she doubted he tolerated histrionics in his courtroom.

  In what seemed like a dry-stick caricature, both counsels played the expected parts after which the judge set bail at five hundred thousand dollars. After much consulting of schedules, the trial was set for the first week in August. Tandy had asked for an additional month, but Ms. Hall-Jones had cited Danni's advancing pregnancy as an argument against delay. The judge had ruled in her favor.

  Unable to come up with the ten percent required by the bail bondsman, Jonathan had been taken back to county jail. Before he'd been shackled and led away, however, he'd given her a long searching look, his eyes full of bewildered hurt. I love you, he'd mouthed before the marshal had prodded him to move along. She'd nearly been sick.

  It had been a masterful performance, however, one the prosecutor had noted with some alarm. After arranging a date for the middle of June to go over Danni's testimony, Ms. Hall-Jones had departed in a burst of energy and verve, leaving behind a lingering hint of electricity and Opium perfume.

  Now, nearly an hour later, Rafe and Danni sat in her favorite corner by the window in a family owned café near her office, having lunch. Seth had begged off, preferring a visit to Portland's famous Powell's Books which occupied a full city block in the heart of the downtown district.

  It was still early, and the regulars had only begun to drift into Allegro's. Mama Allegro's eldest son, Tito, cooked on Fridays. Recently dumped by his girlfriend, he'd taken to playing vintage Billie Holliday through the superb speakers tucked unobtrusively in Mama's forest of prized lemon and pomegranate trees. Now and then Tito's voice singing along with the fabulous Billie could be heard drifting from the kitchen.

  It was a great place to be on a sunny Friday afternoon.

  Danni normally left feeling pampered and relaxed. Today, however, she was too wrung out to do more than pick at the chicken and avocado salad Rafe had pressed her to order.

  "I wondered how I would feel when I saw him again," she admitted, poking at a cucumber slice with her fork. "I expected to feel anger, but for a moment, when I saw the chains and that horrible orange suit, I actually felt sorry for him."

  Rafe had been wound tight most of the morning. He'd managed to keep most of his concentration on the proceedings, but a part of him had been actively observing Danni and her reactions. He'd been worried sick she wouldn't be able to handle the stress. With only a few wobbles here and there, she'd held solid. He'd made the mistake of thinking she'd finally seen Folsom for the scum he was.

  It was raw fear he felt now, fear for what her soft heart might lead her to do. Fear that led him to use his voice like a razor to slice through those rosy illusions. "For a smart woman you can be incredibly naive, Doctor," he taunted.

  Even before he finished, her head shot up so fast her thick glossy mane swung wildly against her neck. Dark eyes snapped to his and seethed. "I beg your pardon," she grated through a tight jaw. A pulse hammered at the base of her creamy throat. It was the same spot where his lips had teased her into a low moaning sob less than twenty-four hours ago.

  Wired as he was, it was an easy step from wanting to shake her into facing reality to simply wanting her. It clouded his mind, this need he had for her. It made him edgy and impatient and vulnerable. It made him push past tenderness to real anger.

  "Letting yourself feel anything but disgust for a man like Folsom is just plain stupid, Daniela. Worse, it's like handing him a knife, then baring your throat to the blade."

  Horror crossed her face before she drew it back. "I know that, Rafael. I was merely sharing my feelings with a friend." Her mouth took on a stubborn line. "A friend who is very lucky he isn't wearing my salad at this very moment."

  He froze, his mind scrambling to take in the sudden glint of laughter in her eyes. "Hell," he muttered, feeling like an ass. He did his best to shore up his crumbling dignity with a scowl. It was about as effective as the cold shower he figured he'd be taking as soon as he got back to the motel.

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  « ^ »

  Seth was already in the room when Rafe returned a little past one, his carry-on bag open on the bed he'd used. It was nearly full, the contents shoved in so haphazardly Rafe actually winced. With eight people stacked into four rooms of a single wide trailer, neatness had been a must. It was a habit he'd never shaken.

  "How about we grab some dinner in one of the seafood places by the river before we head to the airport?" he suggested as Rafe unclipped his weapon and dropped it onto his own bed.

  "Sorry, partner, I'm having dinner with Daniela."

  Seth's patrician brows shot up. "Damn, you work fast."

  Rafe met
hodically emptied his pockets onto the built-in dresser. "If you call twenty years fast."

  Seth tossed his sneakers into his bag. "No offense, but this morning at breakfast I got the distinct impression the daughter isn't your biggest fan."

  "I'm working on that." He stripped off his suit coat and hung it up. "She was smitten with you, though," he said as he unbuttoned his cuffs. "Even laughed at your lousy jokes."

  Seth took a jumble of underwear from the drawer and stuffed it into his bag. "Everyone laughs at my jokes, but you. Might make a man doubt himself, except everyone knows Rafe Cardoza doesn't have a sense of humor."

  Surprised, and a little irritated, Rafe shot him a look. "Tell one that's funny instead of corny and I will."

  The kid grinned. "Any idea how strong Fabrizio's gonna hold on testifying if Folsom reaches out to her?"

  "She'll hold."

  Looking thoughtful, Seth set the bag next to the door, then flopped like a loose-jointed puppet into one of the chairs. "Assume you arranged with Randolph to get a heads up if Folsom makes bail?"

  Rafe pulled off his tie. "Yeah, but I'm thinking of staying over a few days."

  "Probably be a good plan, yeah." Seth stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Want me to stick around, too?"

  "No, but keep yourself loose and your phone charged."

  * * *

  "So how's the party?" Danni asked when Lyssa called around seven.

  Since the accident, Lys was obsessive about checking in often when she was away from home. It was reassuring to Danni as well.

  "It hasn't really gotten started yet," Lyssa said, raising her voice to be heard over the rock and roll pounding in the background. "Only a couple of the girls have shown up so far."

  "It's early." Danni clamped the phone between her shoulder and ear in order to insert the pearl teardrop into her other earlobe. The heirloom earrings had belonged to her mother's grandmother first, and then her mother. Now they were all she had left of the family pieces she'd cherished. She still had them only because she'd worn them on the plane to London.

  "So what are you doing tonight?" Lyssa asked.

  "Rafe invited me to dinner as a thank you for feeding him last night."

  "He just wants to sleep with you! I could tell from the way he was looking at you."

  A frantic guitar riff assaulted her eardrums, making her wince. "Lyssa, men often look at women that way. A strong sex drive is hardwired into them in order to perpetuate the species. It's nature's way. But wanting and doing are two different things."

  "I don't like him," Lyssa said stubbornly. "And I don't want you to go out with him."

  Danni bit off a sigh. "I absolutely respect your feelings, sweetie, but this is a decision for me to make alone."

  "I knew it! You want to have sex with him, too, and I think it's disgusting!"

  "My sex life is my business, Lyssa, and I don't intend to discuss it with you."

  Danni heard what sounded like a sob before Lyssa hung up on her. She disconnected, then stood with the receiver in her hand, worrying her lip. Part of her thought she should call Lys back and talk this out immediately before it had a chance to fester. Another part knew that her daughter needed time to work things through. She was still waffling when the doorbell rang.

  By the time she made it downstairs, she was as giddy as that starry-eyed girl who'd slipped out for a midnight adventure with a green-eyed charmer with magic in his smile and a body that made her mouth water.

  It's just dinner with an old friend, Danni, she reminded herself firmly as she reached for the doorknob. She took a moment to smooth a nonexistent wrinkle from the loose fitting yellow silk chemise, part of the communal maternity wardrobe that had come to her by default after Liza's tummy had outgrown it. Then, with her armor firmly in place she pulled open the door.

  "Right on time," she said briskly.

  His grin flashed. "Two minutes early by my watch."

  He had changed from his suit to tailored gray slacks and a pale blue Oxford cloth shirt with a button-down collar. His hair was clean and shiny and, as usual, any style had been left to chance.

  She started to invite him in, then froze. He'd brought her flowers, snowy white peonies in a nest of silvery lace. "Oh my," she said softly, staring helplessly at the shimmering blossoms.

  He shifted, his jaw tightening. "Some guy on the corner had these for sale cheap," he said, all but shoving them into her hands.

  Unable to resist she buried her face in the fluffy petals and breathed in a honeyed fragrance that made her senses swim. Her mother had planted peonies on the day she'd found out she was pregnant with her fourth child. The child that was Danni.

  White peonies for the daughter she'd always longed for. With this same heavenly smell that wafted through the open windows in the summer. As a child she'd lain in bed and pretended it was her mother's perfume she smelled. Had she told Rafe that? She couldn't remember.

  Slowly, she lifted a bemused gaze to his. The sensuous gleam in his silvery green eyes had those soft little ribbons of desire winding around her heart again. "You aren't by any chance trying to seduce me, are you, Agent Cardoza?" she challenged when her breath steadied.

  "Absolutely." His lips curved into a lazy grin that had a sly little hook at one end. "How am I doing so far?"

  It was the grin that kept her from grabbing him by the front of that starched blue shirt and hauling him inside. "I'll let you know after dessert."

  Lifting a hand he touched one of the blossoms. "Sure you don't want to have dessert first?"

  Feeling young and free and very sexy for the first time in months, she allowed herself a slow, sly smile of her own. "Not a chance, Agent," she declared, letting her voice go sultry. "I'm eating for two now, and baby has a yen for something sinfully rich and gooey tonight."

  He sighed. "Guess I can hang on a little longer."

  At least she wouldn't be a pushover this time, she told herself firmly as she challenged him with a look. "If I don't agree to go to bed with you, do I have to give these back?"

  "Absolutely."

  Laughter bubbled past the lump in her throat. "Aunt Gina was right—you are a bad influence on me."

  "God, I hope so." Without waiting for an invitation he stepped over the threshold, forcing her to move backward. He closed the door and locked it before turning her way again.

  "Do come in," she muttered, but her heart was already racing. She felt the heat of his body and a coiled kind of tension running through that lean powerful body. His skin carried the scent of a recent shower and the wind. Clean, honest scents, with no pretension.

  Crowding her a little, yet careful not to crush the flowers she held like a shield against her breasts, he reached up to touch her mother's earring. "Funny, I've always pictured you in pearls," he murmured as he slid his hand along the curve of her jaw. Rough callused skin against soft and pampered. Excitement shivered through her. "Even that night by the pond, with your hair wild and your nails ripping my shoulders bloody, you never lost that regal look."

  She frowned. "I never … I wouldn't rip you."

  "Want to see my scars?" he challenged with a grin.

  "I'll pass, thank you."

  Grin fading, he settled his hands on her shoulders. "You marked me good that night in more ways than you know," he said in a tight, angry tone that belied the heat in his eyes. "No other woman has ever made me burn the way you did."

  Her mind stuttered. "Oh Rafe, I wish—"

  The phone shrilled, drawing her quick startled gaze to the hall table where she'd put it before opening the door. "That might be Lyssa," she said before turning to answer it.

  Frustration tightened his face. "I'll put these in water," he said, taking the flowers from her.

  "There's a vase under the sink," she said as she picked up the phone. Before she could answer, he ducked his head and kissed her so fiercely her mind went blank.

  "Hold that thought," he said with a cocky grin before heading for the kitchen.
/>
  She was smiling as she answered.

  "Hello, love. Missing me, I hope?" It was the same resonant purr that had whispered words of love in the darkness. Now the very sound sickened her.

  Her breath hissed in. Her heart thudded painfully. "Don't call me that," she ordered sharply. "I'm not your love. I never was."

  "Ah, you wound me deeply, darling Danni."

  Her fingers clenched tighter around the portable receiver. "Believe me, I'd like nothing more."

  His laughter was an obscene joke. "This is all a mistake, Daniela. I was in a financial bind and I was too embarrassed to tell you. But I swear I intended to pay you back every cent."

  "Save your breath, Jonathan. Or should I say Jacob Folsom."

  "I can explain—"

  "Don't bother. I'm hanging up—"

  "I put that brat in your belly, Daniela. Nothing you can do or say will change that."

  She went cold. "Wrong. My baby was fathered by a man who never existed."

  "Oh he exists, all right. Daniela," he declared in an oily tone that had her stomach roiling. Worse were the crude gutter words he used to describe their wedding night. Forcing her mind away from the ugly images, she drew a steadying breath.

  "It's tempting to hate you, Folsom, but you're simply not worth the energy it would take."

  His soft laughter was more chilling than the filthy words. "If it's a boy, I hope you'll name him Jacob after his father. Jacob Peter Folsom, Junior. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

  * * *

  Rafe was stabbing the last stem into the vase when he heard her enter. Feeling like a kid showing off for his best girl, he turned to give her a good look at his handiwork.

  It took him a full half second to realize she looked stunned. "Danni? Is it Lyssa?" he demanded, already moving,

  "No, thank God. Not this time anyway." She drew a shaky breath and even managed a smile. "You'll never guess who that was," she said, her voice thin. "Or maybe you would, come to think of it."

  He went still. "Folsom?"