Faithful

by S. A. Wolfe

  “I was good at testing, academically and physically, and they saw me as a perfect fit for undercover work, another reason why I don’t have tattoos as you so eloquently keep asking. I didn’t want any identifiable marks on me.

  “When we were working on the Marchetto mob case, I had two identities going. One was as a close pal of one of Vinnie’s guys. My hair was dyed brown and short, and I dressed better and used a heavy New York accent. When I was on detail following Vinnie’s son on various campuses, I was blond again, short hair, fake glasses, the khaki and polo crowd you referred to … yuppie, geeky student.”

  “I would love to see you like that.” When I tweak his chin, he turns to look at me, amused.

  “Never again. Now I’m just me, but for the five years I worked in CID—”

  “CID?”

  “Criminal Investigation Division. I couldn’t get enough of that life—playing someone else twenty-four hours a day and bringing in some of the shittiest criminals ever. I knew I never wanted to do white collar cases or have a desk job. I liked being out there every day, playing a role, being smarter than those sleazy guys, and then hauling their asses in with the team.

  “Some of the other men and women in my unit were married, so I’d take the most time-consuming cases, some of the real dirty ones. It left no time for my family or my girlfriend at the time, but I didn’t care.”

  “Ah, a girlfriend.”

  “That was a long time ago, and my job didn’t work with our relationship.”

  “So, bye, bye girlfriend.” I sound a little too happy about that, but Cooper doesn’t seem to notice.

  “The job was a rush, and I didn’t think I’d ever get sick of it. It was the last gig that did me in. We were working on bringing in a big drug dealer, but we were going after some of his distributors. Like any other day, I was dressed as my usual self because, well, the look works. I’d put my hair in a tail, wear a leather jacket, use the bureau issued luxury car to look like a buyer, and do my bit.

  “I was going into a dealer’s place, someone I had never met before. The successful guys are careful, meticulous and shrewd, and usually set up locations for our meetings or drug buys. On the last gig, when I pulled up to the location, I knew something was wrong. The guy had us meeting at a rundown house where someone actually lived. So either it was his home or a very bad location, but the conditions told me something was wrong.

  “When he answered the door, the guy was in his robe, and I could see the track marks up and down his arms and legs. I was used to meeting with drug dealers who were smart, sharp-dressed businessmen who moved large quantities. This guy was a heroin addict. He had gone off the rails. Still, I went inside the house.

  “It looked like an abandoned home with garbage and filth everywhere. It wasn’t even fit for rats. I had plenty of back-up people in the two-block radius, and I could handle myself if it was just this skinny strung out guy, so I wasn’t really nervous.

  “He walked me to a back bedroom where he was stashing thousands of bags of heroin. It was a sloppy, unprofessional set-up; I’d never seen a dealer at the top of his game operate this way. Obviously, the guy was on his way down and going fast. I didn’t give a shit about him, though.

  “It was then I heard someone moaning in pain. It was coming from one of the other bedrooms. This dealer was completely strung out and slow, so I just pushed past him and went to check out the other rooms. I almost threw up when I walked into a bedroom.

  “There wasn’t any furniture, just a dirty mattress on the floor and three emaciated toddlers. Next to them was an older boy, about ten, and he was chained to the radiator. They were starving to death. The dealer was their dad, and he said he was willing to sell the boy if it would help the deal.

  “That’s when it hit me. I had to fight back my instinct to take out my gun and blow his head off. That’s all I wanted to do. The feeling and raw emotions were so powerful I was willing to kill someone. There was no provocation from him, but I felt myself losing control, thinking that I could fuck procedure and legal protocol and just kill the bastard right there on the spot.”

  “Cooper,” I say softly, “that sounds awful.”

  “I don’t know how I held it together, but somehow, I managed not to kill the guy, and the back-up team came in. The guy went down for the drugs and human trafficking—he had already sold a daughter.

  “When we were clearing the house, we found his wife upstairs, also strung out. When I carried the kids out to the social services van, I almost started crying. I had never seen anything so ugly.”

  I inhale slowly and think about those images. “My life has been a Disney movie compared to that.”

  “Yeah, I think the first decade of my life was pretty sweet, too. Things changed when I hit my teens.”

  Cooper sighs and is quiet for a minute, and I wait, wondering if he’s going to say more.

  “I never witnessed first-hand what soldiers see in war,” he says quietly, “but I remember seeing people jumping from the Twin Towers on a walking history lesson that day, and we were a block away when the second plane hit. The subway shut down, so the teachers were trying to corral all these high school kids towards City Hall Park and get us to walk home across the Brooklyn Bridge. We did eventually, but not before we saw people jumping to their deaths. I thought that would be the most terrifying thing I’d ever witness. It was, actually. Still, I never thought I’d see a father do to his kids …

  “What that fucking lowlife did to his children was an image I’ll never forget. And the seconds or maybe minutes I spent thinking about killing him and covering it up as self-defense made me realize I was done. I was too close to doing something worse.”

  “But you didn’t. You didn’t kill him. You saved those kids.”

  “No one saved those kids. They’re in the system, probably separated. Bureaucracy isn’t humane; it doesn’t love children.”

  “So you resigned because of that case?”

  “I resigned because I realized I had spent five years, twenty-four hours a day with the worst human beings. I liked the people in my unit, but most of my casework was solitary undercover work with the most disgusting side of human nature. I took a month off to get my head back on right, but all it did was confirm that my life wasn’t my own. I wasn’t a hero, and I didn’t feel like I was helping humanity. I was hanging with the worst scum of our species, and I didn’t want the rest of my life to be full of that. The rush was gone, and it all felt too sickening after a while. So, I resigned.”

  While I squeeze his hand, he exhales as though he’d been holding his breath the whole time he was confiding in me.

  “When you decided to resign, what were you planning on doing?”

  “I thought I’d take a few months and travel around the country, visiting some old college friends. I actually headed out to Colorado to do some hiking with friends. I wasn’t there very long when my sources contacted me about Emma applying for a job with Carson’s company. I decided to come back to see if there were any new bites on the Marchetto case and Emma’s ex-boyfriend. We were losing track of him, so that’s when I decided to go meet with Carson. It took some convincing, but after he heard my background and the story behind Emma’s ex, Carson thought it was a good plan to have me on site.”

  “That was a weird situation. Lauren was just trying to help Emma get a job. We had no idea that it would drag Emma’s family and past into the mix. Poor Carson, he was caught in the middle, wanting to help Emma, but I’m pretty sure he was intrigued with you.”

  “I had you fooled, didn’t I?”

  “Oh, yeah. I figured you were some lost dude who ended up in Hera by accident and Carson was being nice by giving you a job at his factory. When Emma’s father was arrested along with the other mobsters and the whole story came out, I was really …” I trail off, not wanting to sound like a raving fan.

  “Really what?” he urges, waiting for me to say something complimentary.

>   “I was amazed that you’d pulled it off. I never would have guessed that you were an FBI agent and part of this grand scheme. You played the casual goofball part really well. Everyone believed that you were one of Carson’s humanitarian projects.”

  As Cooper laughs, the tension he was holding in recedes.

  “I had no idea you were so … smart. But you must be. Carson wouldn’t promote or hire just anyone to take over as his operations manager. He and Dylan have a lot of respect for you.”

  “Is that what made you give me a second look?”

  “No. I was still trying to ignore you,” I blurt out, my face heating with embarrassment.

  Cooper laughs harder. “I love your honesty.”

  “I still don’t understand why you decided to stay here after all the drama with Emma was resolved.”

  “I liked how Carson ran his company, and I liked the people there. Everyone seemed really content with work and their life in this little town. It seemed incredibly normal and quiet compared to where I’d come from. My neighborhood in Brooklyn was dense. My family is large and loud. My career was exciting, chaotic, and dangerous. And then, one day, I started to dislike all of it and wanted to live a different way. I was at the top of a mountain in Colorado, and the peace was humbling. I needed more of that. Then, when I met Carson and he walked me around the factory and the studio, I got a very good vibe from the people and the place.”

  “It’s still strange. People usually wait until their sixties to hang it up and move to a little town. Hell, I was born and raised here, and I still sometimes think I’m missing the whole world by staying.”

  “You won’t miss anything if you travel a bit. This is a good place to come home to. You should take a trip with me. We’ll go hiking in the Colorado and Washington—”

  “Have you not learned anything about me today? I don’t like hiking. I’m lying on this rock, waiting for my airlift.”

  Cooper laughs again and I join in. “We could go to Istanbul. You’d love it.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Years ago, I had a short break between college and joining the police force, so I travelled with a college friend who was from Greece. It was great. We were broke, but he had friends and family in a few different countries, so we slept on couches and in hostels and ate at open street markets. I wouldn’t make you sleep on any couches, though; I’d take you to a hotel.”

  “It’s always nice when a guy offers to take you to a hotel so he can get in your pants.” When I playfully slap his stomach with the back of my hand, he captures it and rolls towards me, his lips instantly on mine in a short yet sweet moment.

  “I’m not going to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for,” he says with his lips a few centimeters above mine. “I have plenty of time. I’ve already waited a year, and I figure I’m the only available guy in town you could possibly be interested in, unless you’re still hot for the high school quarterback or the rich town lawyer who was born two centuries ago.”

  “You’ve also bagged plenty of women since you’ve been here. I hear everything in the diner.”

  “First of all, stop saying bagged or banging. I’ve been out with a few women, some of whom asked me out. So there. But I don’t bang women.”

  “Okay, so you’ve fucked a few women because there are plenty of young, pretty women in the area, especially during tourist season. And I know all about you and the Pilates chick.”

  “We weren’t serious or anything.”

  “I didn’t say you were, but you kind of picked up where Dylan left off.”

  “Shit, Imogene. I’m twenty-nine and have a dick. I have to use it sometimes, but I’m not setting records with nameless women every week.”

  “I totally understand.”

  “I don’t like the way you said that,” he says with a tinge of irritation in his voice.

  “I like kissing this,” I say, swiping my finger against his soft lips. “But I need to stay away from this.” I swiftly reach my hand down between us and cup the growing bulge in his groin.

  “Ah,” he grits out.

  I release my hand and smile sweetly.

  “You’re going to lose this bet, muffin.” He pulls me up to a sitting position and sits back on his knees.

  “Yuck, don’t call me that. And I said I’d take you out for dinner, and you don’t even have to cut your hair or dress like a yuppie. Let’s just get off this kcuffing mountain already. I’ve had enough.”

  I wouldn’t mind going out with Cooper. It feels good to be with a man who is genuinely engaging. The conversation alone is enough for me, but the physical attraction is downright thrilling. However, sleeping with Cooper would surely upset the delicate balance of the entire universe, and I’d end up as the scorned muffin among my family and friends while Cooper could merely move out of town if things became uncomfortable.

  “You deserve muffin for thinking I’m a sleazy jerk with women.”

  “You’ll get over it. Another pretty blond will want you to have your way with her, and you two may even get married and have beautiful blond babies together.”

  “That won’t work,” he responds, frowning. “I’ve always been partial to brunettes.”

  Thirteen

  I spend the next three days putting in eighteen-hour days, completing necklaces, uploading new inventory to our website, and talking to potential retailers for our line.

  Lauren’s pregnancy leaves her tired at odd hours to the point where I catch her occasionally falling asleep sitting up with beads in her hand; as a result, I encourage her to nap while I pick up the slack.

  I think about Cooper constantly. Being attracted to one man in a hundred-mile radius, of course, he’s frequently in my thoughts; especially when I go into the pantry where I practically stripped for him or the TV room where I slept on top of him.

  Fortunately, Cooper has been busy working long hours, handling a huge shipment of lumber that came in and large delivery orders of furniture that need to go out. He called to see if I was ready for a public dinner date with him, and I managed to stall him, citing my workload and exhaustion. It was a stupid excuse and made me sound like I was eighty-five instead of twenty-five. However, Cooper didn’t let my poor acting skills deter him. To rile me, he got the last word in: see you at dance class, muffin.

  Lauren and I finish our work for the evening then put our heels in a grocery bag before heading out the door to the dance studio near New Paltz. We’re dressed in our work clothes, jeans and T-shirts, but the dance instructor, Rafe, insisted that the women bring heels that will be similar to what we’ll be wearing at the wedding. Since Lauren special ordered the bridesmaid dresses, I have no idea what they look like, but she informed me that we’re wearing two-inch strappy heels. Nice and cryptic. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lauren puts us in puffy, orange chiffon dresses so we resemble pumpkins next her princess ensemble. Although, I love her enough to let her do whatever she wants with me as long as there are no tiaras or wands.

  When we enter the dance studio, the men and women are there, all except Cooper. Archie, Lois, and Eleanor are seated in the chairs along the back wall.

  “Oh, great, we have an audience,” I say to Lauren.

  “And our parents are here, too,” she adds. Sure enough, sitting along another wall are my parents, Pam and Mark, and Lauren’s parent’s, Nina and Garth.

  “They all have cameras,” I grouse.

  “Let it go, Imogene. I’m an only child so my parents are making a big deal out of this. It’s their one shot. And your parents are probably thinking the same thing.”

  “But I’m not getting married.”

  “Maybe they think this is the closest you’ll get to the altar since you’re driving every guy away.” She smirks.

  “Funny. At least I won’t have to upchuck during the dancing. Maybe they want to film that.”

  Lauren laughs and then surprises herself with a small belch. “God, I hop
e I don’t get sick,” she says, covering her mouth.

  “Hey, babe,” Leo says, coming towards us with a big, goofy grin. “Ready to dance?”

  “No,” I reply for Lauren.

  “Yes, let’s get this party started!” Lauren pumps her fists as she and Leo walk towards Rafe and the others. Our cheerleader is back.

  “Oh, fun,” I mutter to myself just as Cooper enters the studio, looking a little too excited.

  “Happy to see me?” His arrogant smile is breathtaking, inducing that wretched involuntary smiling on my part.

  “I can’t wait to do the two-step with you,” I say with artificial glee.

  “It’s a waltz, and you’re going to love dancing with me.”

  “I think you have waltzing confused with something else,” I say, making him chuckle as if that’s exactly what’s on his mind.

  I’ve had a lot of dirty thoughts about you, too.

  He leans down to my ear. “It’s nice to see you, too,” he says in a husky voice before giving my cheek a quick peck.

  Before I can respond or settle my goose bumpy arms, Rafe calls us to the center of the room. Cooper puts his arm across my shoulders, leading me over to the others as though we’re a couple. I pull away to join the women by the mirrored wall where we exchange our sneakers for heels.

  Rafe is a very lean, thirty-something-year-old who looks every bit the professional dancer. He’s quite polished in black dress slacks, shiny black shoes, and a vibrant blue oxford. He takes his ballroom dancing seriously and isn’t pleased that we have arrived in jeans.

  He takes one look at Carson and Cooper, their long hair and unshaven faces, and shakes his head. “Gentlemen, I hope you can make a little more effort for Lauren’s wedding.”