.38 Caliber Cover-Up Page 8

  “The DEA doesn’t know what I do for Pike.” Wow, he’d just taken a huge leap, and from those wide eyes of hers, she had no clue what circle he’d brought her inside. “As far as I know, Walter had never told Marilyn about the men and women on this wall. You’re the first person I’ve ever told, Darby.”

  “This doesn’t make sense.” She shook the curls back from her face. “You’re undercover and everything’s cloak-and-dagger to you. For goodness sakes, you even wear one around your neck. But that’s not reality. Michael did not nobly sacrifice everything—his family and future—so he could become a dope dealer for a police academy instructor.”

  He caught himself fingering the charm.

  “Part of the reason Pike’s system works is because no one ever knows.”

  What to say? He was back to that honesty thing again. He expected it from her. He could see in her eyes that she expected it from him. But it had been a long time since he’d done honest. What man in his position did? He might not, but maybe…

  A cowboy. A trustworthy cowboy. Could he do a good ol’ Texas boy for Darby like he did the lieutenant for the Sergeant Major?

  “Pike was probably meetin’ Michael when they were ambushed. They were fixin’ to send me the map. My instructions were to meet O’Malley—but no where or when was included. More than likely, I was supposed to meet up with your brother, instead of you. Whoever killed Pike snatched the photo with the map from him that night, but didn’t know how important it was.”

  “And what is the significance? It’s a picture of you with Pike on a dock.” She turned to the other pictures hanging on the wall. “They’re all of different people with Pike on a dock. Different, but exactly the same.”

  “Pike used the pictures to send us messages. We each had a copy. We knew the picture was from him and that he needed to meet with us.”

  “Sort of an instant trust-the-messenger confirmation.” She shrugged. “That was a nice old-fashioned touch. There couldn’t be any other reason why these twenty or so pictures are here?”

  When did he start caring if someone believed him? And did she? He was telling the truth. Her eyes studied the photos and cut to him, then quickly back. He’d been able to read everything about her, but not this.

  “It’s your time to come clean. The scrawl on the back of the picture, what does it say?”

  She raised her eyebrow, questioning his right to know. Her serious look changed and she broke into a smile he normally would want on her face all the time. Then she laughed.

  Darby laughed, holding her sides and almost doubling over. A laugh deep and…contagious. If it weren’t at his expense he might have joined her.

  “Oh, Erren, and just when I was beginning to trust you. Seriously, cut out the John Wayne overkill.” Darby forced herself to stop laughing, but snorted and laughed harder.

  Erren stood straight, his palms open to her. A classic pose of entreaty, which seemed a bit too practiced. Darby had a little training in reading body language, too. During the past twenty-four hours she’d been too closely involved with the situation. It was time to use her knowledge and see if Agent Rhodes was continuing to lie.

  “Every word I’ve said to you is the truth.” He overstated the words, as if they were uncomfortable, forced.

  “You don’t have to change personalities to convince me. What you’re saying makes sense. Oh, don’t try to deny it.” His dropped g’s were so obvious. “The minute you thought I didn’t believe your story, you began a country-boy drawl.”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said.

  Was that a flash of hurt? There was an unusual look in his eyes. It couldn’t be. Erren Rhodes—if that was his real name—knew how to manipulate people. He’d gotten by her father easily and the Sergeant Major wasn’t fooled by men who knew the right things to say but had no heart.

  Integrity and strength were more than mere words to her family.

  “You’re a master at working the situation to your benefit. How are these circumstances any different?” Something she needed to remember. She could only trust him so far.

  “I’ve lived this fiction long enough that it’s a natural part of me.” He crossed his arms and gave her a believe-me-if-you-want shrug. “Kind of ironic that this is the first time in seven years I’ve said more than two lines of truth and you don’t believe me.”

  The shrug wasn’t planned, but revealed a glimpse of a wounded male ego. Because she’d doubted him? It seemed that her Knight Errant really was uncomfortable telling the truth. He tapped his forefinger against his arm, waiting, perhaps unsure how to proceed. He took a deep breath and cracked his lips to speak.

  “Don’t say anything else.” She raised her hand to stop him from explaining or moving. “You’re here to find Pike’s murderer and you believe that person is Michael. If you want evidence to use against my brother, you won’t find it.”

  He’d been reading her like a book since they’d met. Now she’d turned the tables by seeing through his little cowboy act. She was curious how he’d react, but there was more important information to process.

  She studied the pictures on the wall, expecting some clue to jump out and guide her. The simple plastic frames seemed out of place against the real-wood panels covering the walls.

  The one place she couldn’t look was at him. The way his biceps tightened as he crossed his arms, the way his lower lip almost pouted. While he waited for her to speak. Very tempting, and very unhealthy. She hid the tingle that sprouted wings up her spine.

  She couldn’t get the taste of him out of her mind.

  When she looked at him, there was something in his Kentucky-bourbon eyes that made her want to have faith again. Faith in herself, faith in her brother, faith in Erren.

  Okay, faith or sex.

  Why try to deny she loved his physique? The man’s body screws up my warning system. She couldn’t trust herself no matter how much she wanted to trust him.

  Her mind reeled. Trust him or not. Believe his story or don’t. Even before she could accept Michael’s involvement with Pike, she needed to believe.

  The concept of sweet, old Walter Pike having his own undercover agency was just too Charlie’s Angels. It raised questions she didn’t have time to answer. Concentrate. One thing at a time.

  Erren moved a step closer, lifting his hand to touch her arm. She stepped just out of his reach.

  “I suppose you’re in a hurry to get things started? To dig deeper?” she asked, inwardly wincing at the double entendre.

  “So you believe me?”

  “Your story is so farfetched.” She took a step away. Not running, only moving from the intense passion now apparent in his eyes. “Don’t you think we need to contact someone? Surely there’s an authority who knew what Pike was up to? Someone who knows who all these people are? Someone who can help? How can you expect the two of us to get everything done or to—”

  “Take a deep breath, Detective O’Malley. We have all day to determine what our next move will be.”

  “Hmph…as long as that?”

  Somehow Erren was next to her, touching her shoulders, turning her to face him. She had to look, a small tilt of her head and there he was. All of him—scraped forehead, purple bruise on his cheekbone, a knife wound in his side and broken nose. But she could only see his lips.

  “Yeah. We need to finish what Walter asked us to do.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and tugged her to his body. “My gut tells me we’re getting close.”

  The intensity in his touch made her stomach quiver. She wanted him to kiss her. For real. Not in response to taking his mind off of their situation, but to intentionally focus on her lips.

  “Wait a minute.” She placed her hands on his chest to stop herself from completely leaning into him. “I haven’t said I believe you.”

  “If you didn’t, I’d be knocked to the ground and you’d be hightailing it out of here in the truck.” He grinned.

  Her hair had sprung into her face. Erren looped
it around her ear again. His touch sizzled against her skin. It was effortless to accept his hand cupping her cheek and gently moving beneath her chin, taking her directly to a kiss.

  Wham.

  There was nothing gentle about the fierce way he claimed her mouth. Nothing gentle in the confident way his arms circled her body. Nothing gentle in the positive response every inch of her wanted to return.

  His fingers tiptoed under her windbreaker and she began to suffocate. Yearning was too light a word for what she…required. Could she be bold? Could she forget the responsibility…?

  Hell, yes, she could. Her hands mirrored Erren’s and soon led the way across his triceps, his pecs, his abs. She wanted skin. His skin. Her fingers demanded the smooth contours of his muscles.

  She tore her mouth from his, but his lips continued their quest, leaving a shuddering trail of nips to the hollow of her collarbone.

  “Take your shirt off.” There, she’d said it, commanded it with a gasp, but commanded.

  And he obeyed.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gone was the fake John Wayne accent. His voice was strong yet held the slight twang of a natural Texan.

  They broke apart long enough for him to pull the T-shirt over his head and let it fly across the room, hitting a lamp that wobbled yet didn’t fall. His fingers came back to her windbreaker and began to lower the zipper.

  It was time to take what she wanted. Just a few minutes to stop thinking about obligations or proving her brother’s innocence. She could trust Erren for a few moments.

  “I’ve been waiting all morning to do this,” he said.

  “It is kinda hot in here.”

  “Not nearly hot enough.”

  He kissed her again, hard. Not frantic, but…scorching. He tasted of the coffee and the jalapeños he’d added to his What-A-Burger for breakfast. His mouth opened enough to make her more curious. She twirled her tongue to evoke a low moan that vibrated through Erren’s entire body. He shifted closer, making her aware of his reaction.

  Connecting with his skin, her sense of touch came alive. One hand wrapped around his neck, leaving her thumb near his pulse point. His blood battled through his veins in time with her own.

  While moving the zipper, the backs of his fingers skimmed her breasts and she echoed his throaty growl. Her body’s unfamiliar response to this almost stranger shook her to her core. It was happening so fast, but she didn’t want it to slow.

  His hot palms slid around her waist and up her back, leaving a fire trail in their wake. His mouth took charge, tilting her head farther back, creating another burning trail down her neck.

  One minute she’d accused him of trying to trap Michael and the next she was certain he was there to defend her brother.

  His deft fingers popped the hooks of her bra.

  Was she certain?

  “Wait.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wait?

  The word popped into Erren’s consciousness several seconds before his body could stop consuming Darby’s flesh and he could almost think again.

  “Erren, please.”

  Please what? Please get her naked? Please devour her breasts with his mouth? Please take her to bed? I’m trying, darlin’.

  His mouth pushed past the no-nonsense bra, inching its way to reveal more creamy white flesh. His tongue could almost expose a rosy nipple.

  “Erren, we have to stop…”

  Her hand left his neck and gently pushed at his shoulder. There was definitely another firm grip on his uninjured side, keeping him from grinding into her body.

  Stop? She meant stop.

  Pulling away from her was more than difficult. He desired her with a fierce hunger he didn’t understand. But he did. Pull away. It was hard to catch his breath. Hard to relax…everything.

  She turned her back to him, but he noticed how her hands shook trying to zip her windbreaker back to her neck. So why had she stopped?

  The sparks flying between them could catch the cabin on fire. If she hadn’t hesitated, they would have been in bed two minutes ago. More likely only making it to the lounger a few feet away. The picture his mind conjured of her sitting on top of him made him shudder.

  Hell and high water!

  It was going to happen. He’d never wanted a woman so badly and it would happen…today. He had no doubts. But it was a damn good thing she’d halted them. He didn’t have any condoms.

  “I think I’ll hit the local store and grab us some food.” And a large box of protection. “Want anything in particular?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Erren, you know we can’t.” She shook her head, dropping her eyes to the floor.

  Maybe not for food, but it sure seemed like her body craved me a minute ago. Did her voice sound overexerted? Maybe a little too breathy? Good, she deserved equal torture.

  “No telling how long we’ll be here. Makes sense to buy supplies.” Definitely makes sense to get “supplies.”

  “What? We can’t stay here,” she said. “My brother could be in danger.”

  “Your brother has two armed police officers guarding him. This place is safe. No one knows about it.”

  “If it’s one of Pike’s properties, someone will eventually find it. They may be on their way right now.”

  “Naw.” He tugged the T-shirt back over his head.

  “That’s your explanation?” Her voice was beginning to change octaves, higher, more stressed, angry. “This place is safe and I should take your word? Whoever is out there looking for us has been one step ahead the entire time. They ambushed you, tried to kill me, ransacked Pike’s house. They seem to know about everything.”

  “Darby, don’t worry about it. No one knows about this place.” He patted his pockets—keys were still there. His gun was still at his belt in the small of his back.

  “We’ve been shot at twice. Men are trying to kill us. My brother’s in a coma. Pike is dead. And I shouldn’t worry?”

  “The cabin isn’t in Pike’s name. It’s mine.”

  “TIME TO EAT, partner.” It didn’t hurt to remind Darby they were both on the same side of this fight. Maybe reluctantly, but on the same team. She’d been very irritated at him when he told her the cabin belonged to him. Maybe irritated wasn’t the right word. More like furious. Or enraged he hadn’t been truthful from the beginning. Surely she realized secrets were a necessary part of being undercover.

  But fair was fair. She hadn’t answered his question regarding the scribble around the map to her house either. And she’d started the note-taking again.

  During the past hour, she’d removed the pictures of Pike from their frames and replaced each on the wall. She’d stood in front of the same photo since he’d heated the baked potatoes.

  “Food’s ready,” he said again to break her concentration. Concentration on what?

  “I know this woman’s face. The twelfth recruit.”

  “Who?”

  “Twelve pictures over from yours. The twelfth person recruited.” Her slender finger tapped her chin. “I think she was killed two months ago in the line of duty.” She switched her focus. “And the fifteenth recruit… This guy is an assistant district attorney, one of the better ones. He has a phenomenal conviction rate.”

  “Barbecue’s ready.”

  At least she was talking to him again. He didn’t care much for the silent treatment he’d received before leaving for the food. He’d thought about eating on the screened back porch, but it was much cooler inside. As much as he wanted Darby hot again—and writhing in his arms—he shouldn’t.

  What was he thinking? He glanced at the twelfth recruit, as Darby called her. It was possible someone had taken her down as well as Pike. Was it connected?

  Sandra Baker had been a good cop. More experienced than Darby. These guys definitely knew Darby was involved, either before or after he’d led them to her house, but involved enough to want her dead. He’d made a mistake bringing her into the mix and couldn’t compound that by sleeping with
her.

  “There’s an extra nail,” she said and joined him at the small dinette. “I didn’t notice it earlier.”

  “That’s probably where your brother’s picture hung,” he answered. “I can only assume why Pike took it down. Either it was to get a message to Michael, or to one of us about him.”

  “What sort of message?”

  He shrugged, taking a bite of the barbecue. He could avoid a direct question, too. “You seem to accept what I’m saying about Pike now.”

  “The jury’s still out.” She shrugged, the gesture not escaping his attention as an imitation of his movements. “Have you worked with any of these men or women?”

  “Pike brought me in once or twice.” He lied. They spoke all the time. “Mainly when he needed me to help with something they were working on.” He lied again. He knew how the operation worked. “He bragged on your brother though. Said he was as good as me.” Impossible or Michael wouldn’t have been shot. “Do you like the barbeque?”

  “For the record,” she said, taking a bite of the meat, “I still have my doubts about your explanations. Where did Pike get the funding? What did he do with the information he collected?”

  He shoveled a fork full of food into his mouth, and then another, to keep from answering her questions. Evading seemed easier than lying about Pike. Whatever happened to the organization, it wouldn’t—and shouldn’t—involve her. If she found out much more, she’d never be able to go back, and he wouldn’t be able to protect her from what he knew about the dark side of being one of Pike’s Guys.

  “Being one of Pike’s secret men would explain why a kid who had never been in trouble a day in his life could one day be at the top of his Academy class and the next resigning to avoid prosecution.” She pointed her fork at him while she spoke. “Then it was an arrest for drugs with a girlfriend we’d never heard of who supposedly got him in with the wrong crowd. It wasn’t him.”

  He’d never thought about the lies before. They came so naturally now.

  “It’s all part of his cover. Attempting to determine the why behind everything will only drive you crazy.” He watched as Darby chowed down on the pulled pork. For someone who said she wasn’t hungry approximately every ten minutes, she wasn’t afraid to put it away.