Undercover Daddy

by Katherine Deane

  * * *

  Her legs were burning, her arms felt like lead, and she was sweating more than a new recruit halfway through the first day of training. The last thirty minutes had been intense, but totally necessary. She felt like a haze had lifted and she could think clearly again. Connor always pushed her hard, but today he was working her harder than ever before, and she couldn’t help but feel proud. She appreciated that he didn’t treat her as inferior because she was a woman, or because she was smaller than him. In fact, sometimes he reminded her of how her father used to push her. But Connor at least acknowledged when she did well.

  “Don’t give up now. You’re doing great. One more set then you can stop and recover. Go!”

  They fell to the mat and pumped out ten pushups. She stopped watching him out of the corner of her eye, and focused on her own form and breathing. Her arms were wobbling and sore, and she only pushed a third of the way down for her sixth pushup.

  “Do that one over.”

  Damn. She pushed back down and sloppily made her arms extend. Two more. She was about to fall face first when a strong grip grabbed onto the back of her shorts. “That one was good. Three more and you’re done. All the way down, Pip. Come on, you got this.” He held her shorts, and pulled just enough to help her make the finals, and she sagged to her knees out of breath.

  “Don’t stop yet.” He smacked the back of her shorts. “Abs.”

  She lay down on the mat and grimaced her way through the leg press-ups and twisting abs and upper abs. God, she had never been so close to puking in her life.

  “Keep going.” He didn’t even sound out of breath as he finished his final set while directing her.

  She was in good shape, but he had them doing a kamikaze set from hell. And she was about to burn out in a blaze of sweaty glory. She finished, and got to her feet as quick as she could. She wasn’t going to let him better her in this last part. No guts, no glory. Speaking of that… She ran over to the bucket in the corner and dry heaved for a moment.

  “We’re done.” He held out a towel for her, and she took it and wiped her mouth.

  “Bull…” Slow breath in, slow breath out. “Shit.” Another slow set of breathing and the yucky feeling passed. “I’m good.”

  “All right, Pip. Bag.”

  The last set was a combination of punches, roundhouse kicks, uppercuts, and sidekicks—twenty sets against the bag as hard and fast as they could go. She punched, kicked, and yelled as hard as she could, only finishing thirty seconds behind Connor.

  They both sat down on the mats and drank their water in healthy gulps.

  “Awesome job. I knew you could push through.”

  “Thanks.” She returned his fist bump, disappointed and conflicted. As much as she wanted for them to be equals, sometimes she wished he wouldn’t treat her like one of the guys, fist bumps included. Sometimes, like right now, she wished he would pull her into his arms and call her good girl and tell her how proud he was of her. Maybe take her on his lap and kiss her forehead. Tell her she amazed him. She would stroke the stubble on his cheek against her forehead and nuzzle into his chest. Just for a little while. Then they would get back up and go to work—equals, fist bumps and all.

  She shook her head in an attempt to shake the silly thought right out of her head. They were equals. And she had never had snuggles or words like that growing up, so why would she need them now? “You ready to spar?”

  “You’re not too tired?”

  “To take down a big lug like you? Never.” She smiled, stood up, and reached her hand down for him to stand up.

  “All right. But first we need to make a decision about this mission.” He climbed into the ring and held the ropes for her to climb through. “Are you taking it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who’s your partner going to be?”

  “Don’t you mean Who’s your daddy?” She grinned.

  “Who’s your daddy?” His eyes darkened and he looked like he was about to devour her.

  She swallowed and took a step back. “I’m still thinking about it. I’ll let you know after we’re through.”

  “All right.” He turned fully to her and bowed. Their sparring was pretty much a no-holds-barred free-for-all including street fighting, martial arts, and anything they else they could come up with. Connor had even denied the no groin kicks rule that everyone else used. He had told her once before that if she had it in her arsenal, she should use it, and if he was that ignorant of his surroundings, he deserved to get kicked in the balls. So, almost no rules. She never held back with him. But Connor still didn’t fight dirty with her. It pissed her off. But he usually wiped the mats with her anyway, so she couldn’t complain too much about him holding back.

  She bowed in return, and they faced off.

  “Anything goes today?” he asked before stalking toward her.

  “Yeah, sure.” He would still hold back. Anything goes probably meant he would try to take her down quicker and louder.

  ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ blared from the radio as they kicked, blocked, and punched, neither making a real connection; the sounds of soft grunts, thumping music, and heavy breathing echoed throughout the room. Connor led with a punch to her left, which she deflected easily. Her confidence growing, she roundhouse kicked at him, and sent her elbow flying toward his face. A satisfying sound meant she had made contact with his cheek and she looked away for a moment. That lapse in concentration cost her. She was flung unceremoniously over his hip, and he smacked her ass twice—hard.

  “Ow!” She wrestled out of his grasp and pushed away from him. “Low blow!” It hadn’t hurt that much, but it embarrassed her to have been caught in that position.

  He just stood there grinning at her with a cocky smile, enraging her even more. She flung herself at him with a front kick, two hard punches followed by another punch, but he easily diverted her energy and sent her back over for another hard slap.

  Rubbing her bottom cheek didn’t seem to help at the moment, and she was too furious to calm herself. She kept striking, but he kept dodging. Which made her angrier.

  “Get yourself under control and focus,” he barked. “Follow through and stop leaving yourself open for attack.” He circled her menacingly, and the only thing she could think of was covering her ass. Damn him.

  “This isn’t fair. A perp wouldn’t try to spank me if I lost concentration! Asshole!” She flung another insult-laden hook kick at him. “You’re not following the rules!”

  “What rules, Pip?” He punched out, and she defended with an upper block. “We don’t have rules in this square, do we?” He kicked, and she deflected and punched back. “Unless you want me to go easier on you? Do you, little girl?” He was taunting her. Throwing everything she had thrown at him over the past several years back in her face. Bastard. “You can’t hang, so you want me to lower my standards so I don’t hurt your precious little feelings? Princess?”

  “Ah!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and threw her whole body against him, knocking him to the mat.

  He easily flipped her over onto her tummy and slapped her ass. The heat built in her whole body and she felt like she could hump the mat right there as he smacked her bottom again. She grunted when he rolled her over onto her back, straddling her and holding her hands on the mat above her head. His eyes gleamed. The look in his eyes filled with danger, lust, and a hunger she had never seen before.

  “Do you yield, Pip?” Those firm lips spoke above her, and she wanted to bite and suck them. Lick them. His hard length pressed into her thigh. He leaned down closer, and she could smell his aftershave. Woodsy, a hint of patchouli. His sweat intermingled, making him all man. All Connor. “Do you yield?”

  “Fine.” She struggled against his hold, becoming more aroused when she couldn’t get out of his grasp. “Okay, okay. You win this round. Let me up.”

  “I’ll let you up when you answer one question.” He leaned so close their noses almost touched, and he whispered into her ear,
“Who’s your daddy?”

  Well, hell, her panties just caught on fire.

  “I guess you are.” She wouldn’t have it any other way.

  He let her up, and she scowled and rubbed her bottom.

  “Did you have to be so mean?”

  “I wasn’t mean, and you know it.” He clapped her on the back as a small group of officers came in to work out. “My place, eight p.m. We have a lot to do to prepare for this thing.”

  “All right. I’ll pick up Chinese on my way. Want anything else?”

  “Well, Daddy wouldn’t mind a hug.” He teased her loud enough for the rest of the officers to get a chuckle. The whole force would know about this mission by tonight. Cop life.

  She grinned at him. “Well, I guess I can give Daddy some sugar.” She strode forward and punched him in the middle of his stomach, sending him and the other officers into loud guffaws.

  “See ya tonight, Daddy.” She winked and sashayed out the door.

  Chapter Four

  Eight p.m. on the dot. She was pretty proud of herself for making it right on time. Of course, she had arrived twenty minutes early and sat in her car wondering if she was really going to follow through. But he didn’t need to know that.

  Connor answered the door wearing jeans and an old AC/DC t-shirt. She smiled, picturing a younger version of the straitlaced boy next door rocking out and head banging to old eighties music. A good boy like him, he’d probably never smoked a joint or drank alcohol as a teen.

  “Come on in, Pip.” He took the bag of Chinese food from her and led her into his apartment. She shut the door behind them and locked it—something he often warned her about. Lock your door. Cell phone in your pocket or purse, watch your environment. The man was constantly giving her little safety reminders, even though she wore a badge now. It should have bugged her more. But it gave her a warm feeling. He cared. At least a little bit.

  “I didn’t know what kind of wine you preferred, so I have a few to choose from.” He held out a Sauvignon Blanc and a Merlot. “Or I have beer in the fridge.”

  “Real beer or the yucky watered-down stuff they say is half the calories and good for you?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Only real beer in my refrigerator, little girl. If you want to drink healthy, you can have water.”

  She giggled and opened the fridge door, grabbing a couple of beers, handing them both to him. “Looks great. Thanks.”

  They divvied out Kung Pao shrimp, egg rolls, and General Tso’s chicken with extra spice and sat on the couch to eat, chatting amicably. “So, tell me more about living on a farm. What was that like?” She crisscrossed her legs and popped a piece of spicy chicken into her mouth.

  “After my parents died, I was pretty messed up. My aunt and uncle took me in, and helped me get my head back on straight. I don’t how they found the room to fit me in with their five, but they worked it out. If I hadn’t been such an asshole, I might have enjoyed my first two years with them.”

  “Five cousins.” Alex wondered what it would be like to share a room with a sibling. What would their conversations be like? Siblings shared clothes and friends and made each other laugh and had each other’s backs. It sounded pretty dang awesome, so she told Connor.

  He laughed and finished off his eggroll. “It would have been nice if I hadn’t been high half the time, or getting into trouble at school, or vandalizing public property. My uncle helped me through it, and then hooked me up with a mentor right before I graduated from high school. A cop.”

  “My dad.”

  He nodded. “Frank and I kept in touch while I went to college, and when I was ready to join the force, he gave me a letter of recommendation and asked the captain to make me his partner once I graduated from the academy.”

  “He never told me any of this. I always thought you were the golden boy. He seriously thought you walked on water.” She wrinkled her nose and set aside her food. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I can assure you I was far from perfect—I was an idiot, and I didn’t deserve a golden boy status.”

  “Yeah, okay, but you’re definitely the poster boy for idiot kid that turned his life around.” He had gone from smoking pot and rebelling against all authority to being one of the best cops in the city.

  “Anything I’ve done right is because of the help my uncle, aunt, and cousins gave me—and your father. I don’t deserve any accolades for doing my job.” His jaw hardened. “I’m going to get some more rice. Want anything?”

  She shook her head and watched him walk into the kitchen. No wonder her father had adored him so much. He was the classic good cop. Of course her father would be proud. She was, too. But it didn’t mean she wanted to partner with him. And to let him spank her? Her thighs tightened against each other reflexively. Okay, the spanking part and hot sex was totally turning her on. But he didn’t like her. He had made that abundantly clear when she had kissed him. Memories of her father’s funeral flooded back to her, causing her to wince. Thankfully, Connor was in the kitchen, so he hadn’t noticed. As perceptive as he was, he would give her the third degree. And the last thing she needed was to embarrass herself by bringing up memories of her father’s death…

  She had been so devastated. It had been a routine traffic stop. Her father had been murdered seventeen months ago, on a bright, sunny stretch of highway at one o’clock in the afternoon. Her shaky hand threatened to spill her beer, so she put it on the coffee table and tried to catch her breath. The memories continued in full blown color, wide screen, with surround sound. The ambulances, paramedics, fire trucks, police cars, sirens wailing, colors flashing. She hadn’t made it in time to say goodbye, to tell him she loved him. He was gone.

  The autopsy, the funeral procession that had brought an entire city to a standstill as his casket was borne through the streets, the meeting with the lawyers—Connor had been there. She hadn’t shed a tear. So shell-shocked, she had felt numb. Each person who hugged her or shook her hand or handed her a meal to put in the freezer…

  Connor had been there through all of it, accepting baked ziti in a Ziploc bag, lasagna in a tin foil box, blue flowers in a crystal vase, and pink flowers in a white box. Funny, she couldn’t remember the faces of the people who had each come. But she remembered the food, and the flowers. And Connor. He had been her rock, and she hadn’t even acknowledged it. Not until after the burial. After the last shovel full of dirt was placed on her father’s grave. Her great uncle so and so—she couldn’t remember his name—had tried to coax her away and she had refused. She stood there watching each and every shovel full of dirt that hid her father from her. Connor had stood by, watching, waiting, once again pretending to be the knight she hadn’t needed. And when she asked to help with the digging, and the men looked at her like she lost her mind, Connor said something to them quietly, shook their hands, and handed her a shovel. He took off his jacket and laid it on the dirty ground, and she remembered laughing quietly about how dirty it was going to get. And they both scooped shovels full onto her father’s grave. Only five minutes, he warned her. He told her they didn’t want to get the men in trouble so that was all the time they had. So for five minutes all she heard was the echo of dirt as it thumped onto the hard wooden box below. Scrape. Low breathing. And thumps. Then he took the shovel from her, and thanked the men before taking her hand. “It’s time to go, Pip.” And she hadn’t fought him.

  She followed as he pulled gently on her hand and led her to his car, put her seat belt on for her, because she was still watching the men work. The men were burying her father. What if he was still alive? A morbid sense of horror hit her and bile rose in her throat. He could be choking to death, on dirt and lack of oxygen, while these men laid shovel after shovel of dirt on top of him.

  She’d lunged for the door handle, but Connor was at her car door as soon as she unlocked it. Pulling her up onto his lap. Holding her against his firm chest so she couldn’t get back out. She struggled, she fought, she begged, but he didn’t let go. �
��He’s gone, Pip. He’s gone.”

  It took a few moments for those words to really sink in. Her father was gone. She was alone. The heat engulfed her, and she finally could hear everything around her as if she had supersonic hearing. His rapid heartbeat, her shallow breaths, the digging and scraping behind them, crickets chirping. And then he opened the door and stood up, carefully placing her back in her car’s passenger seat. “I’ll drive you home, and walk back to get my car.”

  Connor helped her out of the car, took her into her apartment, sat her on the couch, and got her a glass of water. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She just nodded numbly.

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but squelched it quickly and resumed an air of professionalism. “I’ll check on you in a bit. If you need anything, call me.” He left his business card on the kitchen table. The business number he gave to every other woman in distress. She was a job to him.

  He left, reminding her to lock the door behind her.

  She didn’t cry. Tough people don’t cry, right? That’s what she reminded herself before she tore off her black dress, flung the black pumps into the corner, and fell against the stark white pillows on her bed. She would sleep for an hour, and then head over to her father’s house for the mandatory smile and greet neighbors and family, accept food and flowers, and pretend she wasn’t hanging on by a thread and wanting to sob like a small girl.

  And then there was that stupid kiss…

  Alex shook herself out of the memories and plastered a smile on her face, before Connor came back from the kitchen. She made it through the rest of their dinner and planning without Connor bugging her with an “Are you okay, Pip?” That was good, right?