Agent in Training

by Jerri Drennen

  It was probably some disgruntled agent attempting to drive her out of the agency.

  Could Nicholas be behind this?

  No, he was in the hospital. One of the photos had obviously been taken yesterday and Trent was hardly up for traipsing around Washington DC with a camera. But if it wasn’t him, then who? And why had they done this?

  Shiloh shook her head. A strand of her hair pulled loose from its tight constraint. She dried her shaky hands and tucked it back behind her ear.

  Whoever sent those shots was going to find that she didn’t give in to threats, or to stupid jokes orchestrated by these testosterone-happy Neanderthals. When she discovered who sent the photos, he’d be terminated immediately.

  A quick glance in the mirror showed dark circles under her eyes. She was aghast at how tired she looked. Tired and frustrated. Would she ever get a handle on this job and manage to have reasonable time for her father? Both were demanding, although if she had to make a choice, her father would come first.

  She stifled a yawn. Her father was most important right now, then maybe a few hours of sleep.

  Nicholas walked to the agency’s revolving doors with a spring in his step. He’d recuperated for two weeks now and he was finally getting back to work.

  Two weeks of hanging out at his apartment watching reality TV, had just about driven him over the edge. Who thought up this crap anyway? A guy. A room full of women… and the man only got to choose one.

  Nick snorted. He’d never had a serious relationship in his life. Look where love had gotten his mother––alone and heartbroken. Who wanted that? The one and only time he even entertained the idea of caring for someone, he’d gotten shot down. Never again.

  He rode up in the elevator with a pretty blonde from payroll, who smiled instantly when she saw him.

  “Hi, Nick. I’m really glad to see you back. We all missed you around here.”

  He returned her grin. “I’m not sure if our director would agree with that.”

  The elevator stopped and the doors opened again. This time the director stood outside, in person, holding an armful of files. When she saw him, she visibly cringed.

  “Are you going up?” Nick’s words were issued as a challenge.

  She stepped into the elevator, though he could tell by her stiff demeanor, she didn’t want to.

  “Here, let me take those.” He grabbed for the files, but she refused to release them.

  They stood facing each other, neither giving an inch.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, her gaze connecting with his lips.

  A strange fluttering sensation hit Nick’s gut, and he abruptly let go. The files landed in a disorganized heap on the elevator floor. She moaned.

  Silence filled the car until the payroll clerk knelt down. “I’ll get them.”

  The walls closed in on Nick. The green light above him flashed in slow motion as each floor was passed.

  Finally, when the elevator door opened on Nick’s floor, he leaped over the pile of papers and got off. "Sorry," he said right before the doors closed again.

  Shit, first day back and he’d already done something to piss off the director. But that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment. What really bothered him was the way he’d felt when she’d eyed his lips—the way his stomach reacted to it. He’d never felt that way before and that didn’t sit well, especially when the Iron Maiden had caused it. From now on, he planned to avoid her. Because if he didn’t, he could end up in a bigger mess, and that was the last thing he needed when he was trying to keep his job.

  He entered the precinct office and was instantly bowled over by the large banner welcoming him back. Hank stood under it with two cups of coffee in his hands and a grin so big, he looked like the Grinch.

  “Hey, partner. It’s about time you got your lazy ass back to work. I’m sick of doing your paperwork.”

  Nick took the coffee and slapped Hank on the shoulder.

  “Glad to be back. There’s just so much Jersey Shore you can watch before you realize those people have to be actors. No normal, everyday person would be that stupid.”

  Hank laughed.

  “So what’s on the agenda for us?” Nick walked to the far wall and glanced at the roster board which read: Trent and Dawson. Desk jobs until further notice.

  He turned to Hank. “What? This is crazy. Why are we deskbound?”

  Hank leaned against the wall and shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s been like that for two weeks. I thought it would change once you got back.”

  To hell with staying away from her––not with this turn of events. “I’m not putting up with this.” Nick headed for the elevator again. “I’m going upstairs and talk to the Ice Princess myself. I want to know what’s going on. And why.”

  “You’re just going to make matters worse, Nick.”

  “No, I won’t. I just want to find out why we’re getting this crap, that’s all.”

  He wasn’t going to allow Director Templar to destroy any chance he had to save his career. She would either give him an assignment, or he’d reveal to the higher-ups that she’d made a pass at him. It was completely up to her. Either way though, he’d win.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Shiloh had finally managed to get her files in order when her door flew open. Nicholas stalked into her office, his face distorted with anger.

  “Why are Hank and I on desk assignment?”

  She stared at him. “Agent Trent, you can’t just barge into my office and demand answers. If you want to see me, make an appointment with Sandra.” She opened the file in front of her and focused her attention on it, hoping he’d get the message and get lost.

  “I’m not making an appointment. You’re going to tell me why you put us on light duty, and you’re going to do it now. I’m completely recovered. I insist you give us a real assignment.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her response.

  Shiloh tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be the judge of what you can do, Agent Trent. I feel you’d be more useful in the office. Now, I’m busy. I don’t have time for this.”

  He slammed his palms on her desk and glared at her. “You’re going to make time or I’m going upstairs and tell the powers-that-be that you made a pass at me.”

  Shiloh smiled at his threat. “You just do that, Nicholas. Because when you do, I’ll tell all of them about how you offered your services to me. And I’m not talking about your professional services.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about my little visit to the hospital. Sure, you were a bit looped, but you offered to screw me for the sake of security. Don’t you remember?”

  He swallowed and his eyes glazed over.

  “Did I kiss you?”

  Her gaze met his. “Yes.”

  “Shit. I was out of it. I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought it was a dream.”

  “More like a nightmare.” Shiloh jumped up, bumped the desk, and caused the stack of files on top to slide off in a domino effect. They landed in a heap on the floor, blanketing her gray carpet.

  A fresh wave of anger surged to life. “I just got those files in order after the elevator. You’re a nuisance, do you know that?”

  Nick looked at the papers scattered over the floor, then back at her.

  “I guess so.” He knelt and drew in a pile. A picture among them clearly caught his attention.

  “I’ll get those.” Shiloh tried to get to the snapshot before he could, but wasn’t fast enough.

  He grabbed the photo and read the red print. “What’s this?”

  Shiloh tried to take it from him, but he hung on, his knuckles whitening from the grip.

  His gaze bore into her. “Where’d you get this?”

  She sighed with resignation. “I found it on my office floor last week when I came up from the weight room.”

  “Did you show anyone?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just a prank.”<
br />
  His features took on a chiseled coldness. “Bullshit. This is a threat to your life.”

  “What do you care? I’m sure you’d like to see me six feet under anyway,” she shot back.

  “I know we don’t see eye to eye on anything, but I sure as hell don’t want to see you get hurt. You need to tell Danfield what’s going on—have these photos fingerprinted.”

  Shiloh turned away. For some reason his concern pissed her off. “I’ll take care of it. Now, could you please leave so I can get some work done?”

  He hesitated. “Let me help you pick up these files first.”

  He gathered some of them, then looked at her. “Sorry about the elevator.”

  “Forget it.” She knelt and picked up some papers. When she reached out for a sheet, she accidentally brushed his hand. The brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, a sensation that confused her even more.

  She glanced up and saw the same bewildered look on his face. He’d felt it too. What was happening between them? First the kiss, now a spark from a simple brush of his hand...

  She looked away and hurried to collect the remaining files. She could hardly breathe. The sooner she got the folders in order, the sooner the cause of her discomfort would leave.

  Nick swallowed the lump in his throat as his gaze took in the director’s knees peeking out from under her skirt. She had an awesome pair of legs. Long and shapely. Images of those legs wrapped around his waist sent blood rushing straight to his groin. The desire to touch her became almost overwhelming.

  He had to get out of there before she noticed the hat rack in his pants. And if that happened, he didn’t have a hat handy to hide it from Sandra either. If he left in this condition the secretary would naturally assume something was going on between him and Shiloh. Which sure as hell was at the moment. Just what though, he didn’t know.

  Nick had never had an instant reaction like this to a woman before. Well, at least not since his high school days. Mrs. Braden had aroused his hormones in History 101, but that was when all he could think about was getting some. He imagined, because of her age, she was a woman of the world, experienced… an expert. He was beyond that now. Wasn’t he?

  He rose carefully and placed the files on Shiloh’s desk. Without being too obvious, he adjusted his clothes, and prayed she hadn’t seen the bulge in his pants. The last thing he needed was for her to think she stirred something in him. She’d probably laugh in his face, and his deflated ego had enough to deal with. At the moment he wished something else would deflate.

  “Yes, let’s forget it.” He cleared his throat when he heard his voice crack. “You have a nice day.”

  He walked out and closed the door. Have a nice day. What the hell was that?

  He shook his head, but made sure he smiled at Sandra on his way out.

  Nick couldn’t believe how dumb he felt. Could he have sounded more like an idiot?

  As he took the elevator down to his office, he shook off sexual desire and turned his mind to something else. The picture in the director’s office, the one with blood on it. He assessed the threat the words on the photo had implied. Who would have sent her a picture like that? Obviously, someone with a vendetta against her. Nick wondered if she’d thought he sent it. Would she assume he was capable of something so awful?

  He hoped not.

  One thing was for sure, the picture had been a definite warning, and if she didn’t take it seriously, he sure as hell would. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her if he could prevent it. He may not exactly like her as director, but for some strange reason he felt protective of her––cared for her as a woman.

  Probably his single mother’s upbringing. He’d always been a sucker for a woman in trouble, and Shiloh would be no exception… if she were in trouble.

  What confused him was that something weird was going on between them. He found himself physically aroused whenever they fought. Could it be some kind of sick foreplay? He’d heard of such things, but had always thought it was something a talk show made up for a boost in their ratings.

  Maybe he needed professional help? A good shrink who dealt in strange sexual issues? It couldn’t be normal for someone to get turned on by arguing with another person, could it?

  Shaking his head, Nick entered the office, pushing Shiloh and his feelings away until he had more time to examine them. Apparently he had a ton of paperwork to do right now.

  “Daddy, drink this.” Shiloh placed the cup of juice to her father’s lips and waited for him to take a sip. On the last two visits to the nursing home, the nurses told her he’d been very quiet. Withdrawn, maybe even depressed. They hoped she could somehow draw him out of his shell.

  After he’d taken a drink, she set the cup down on the bedside table and picked up one of his favorite books of poetry by Shelley. “Would you like me to read to you, Daddy?”

  He just sat, staring at the wall, as if he hadn’t heard her.

  “Is something wrong, Daddy?”

  His gaze darted around the room, then settled on her. “He said if I told, he would hurt you.”

  “What are you talking about? Who?”

  “That man.”

  Shiloh thought it had to be the dementia talking. “What man?”

  “The one who talked to me outside. The nurse left to get me a drink. He was hiding behind a tree in the yard and told me that you were bad. And if I told anyone about his visit, you would get hurt.”

  Shiloh inhaled as panic set in. Someone knew her father was there at Oak Haven and that person was threatening her through him. How could anyone be so cruel? Her father was paranoid enough.

  “Daddy, nothing is going to happen to me. I’ll be fine. You know I can protect myself.”

  He didn’t look relieved, but rather, was becoming more agitated.

  “He told me that you were a slut. Are you?”

  Her eyes instantly burned with unshed tears. Shiloh wasn’t sure if he meant what he said or if it was the disease talking again. “No, Daddy. He lied to you. I am a good girl. You know that.”

  “Your mother was bad. You aren’t going to take after her, are you?”

  “What do you mean? Momma was good.”

  He snorted. “She was a whore.”

  “Why would you say that, Daddy? Momma was always home. She would never have cheated on you.”

  He turned away, refusing to say any more.

  Shiloh couldn’t believe he would say something like that about his wife… her mother. He was wrong. This was the disease talking. It had to be, because the woman she remembered was perfect. Nothing like what her father insinuated. He must be confused again.

  But the strange man he mentioned talking to on the grounds worried her. Could it be the same person who sent her the pictures?

  Either way, she would inform security to watch her father more closely from now on.

  If someone intended to get to her through him, they would have to think again. She’d give her own life to keep her father safe, and nothing, or no one, was going to take him away from her before this cruel disease did.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nick handed Hank a cup of coffee and sat across from him at his desk. Two weeks of filling out paperwork was starting to wear on his nerves.

  “Want to go to Ryan’s after work and have a drink?” Hank asked. He stood and stuffed a stack of papers into a file cabinet.

  “Sounds good. I could use a night of wine, women, and song.”

  A wide grin crossed Hank’s face. “Care if I invite Sandra to come along?”

  “Only if you promise not to make out in front of me. It’s been awhile.” Shiloh’s luscious lips stole into Nick’s thoughts and his jaw clenched. Stop it, Trent. All you need is to start fantasizing about the Ice Princess again. Each day he seemed to remember more details of the dream that was not a dream. It was driving him crazy and he didn’t know where the meds ended and reality began. “Wait, aren’t you worried about running into someone you know? You and Sandy are
taking quite a chance dating in the first place.”

  Hank ran a hand through his light-brown hair and leaned against the cabinet. “We’ve talked about it, but we don’t care. We want to be together.”

  Nick tipped his cup to his partner. “Glad to hear that. Obviously, the two of you really like each other.”

  “I really care about her. She’s great. I want you to get to know her a little better. Then you’ll see why I can’t stay away.”

  “So let’s finish this paperwork and get the hell out of here.” Nick picked up his pen and smiled to himself.

  It was good to see his partner happy. Sandy seemed good for Hank. As for himself, he wasn’t ready for any kind of commitment and wouldn’t be for a long time.

  Three hours later, a casually dressed and freshly-shaven, Nick walked into Ryan’s. He glanced around the bar for Hank and Sandy but didn’t see them. He frowned but then his cell phone rang. He unclipped it from his belt and looked at the call display. Ah.

  “Trent here.”

  “Sorry we’re not there yet, Nick. Sandy had to wait for a call from her mother, so we’re running a little late. Order a drink. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll be sitting at the bar.” Nick ended the call and headed for the long circular bar against the mirrored wall at the back. He wove his way through a group of Alpha-Omega-Phi Sorority students then spotted a woman at the far end of the bar whose hair resembled a fine red wine—the same shade as…

  His heart picked up speed, beating like a jackhammer. Could it really be her? The Ice Princess—old Iron Maiden herself? Here at Ryan’s? No, it couldn’t be. Why would uptight Shiloh Templar be in such a place?

  Nick rubbed his jaw. Maybe she wanted to pick up a man. He was a man. Probably more man than she could handle. Okay, where in the hell did that come from?

  He knew he’d be crazy to come-on to the director, though a part of him wondered if she’d take the bait. An insistent part of him.