The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  Outside the Durango, teenagers enjoying a snow day pumped a few dollars’ worth of gas into their rusting cars and grabbed Cokes inside the convenience store. Dickie Jagger was on ice at the local sheriff’s department waiting for the judicial system to extradite him back to California, but the sense of satisfaction Cooper usually felt after nailing a perp was absent. While the rest of his team celebrated back at their hotel with pizza and Coronas, Cooper sat in the parking lot and gave himself one more mental kick. He’d screwed up. Royally.

  How could he explain to Celina what he couldn’t explain to himself? How he’d let Dyer go off on his own to track Valquis. How he’d never suspected that Val was leading his best friend and partner on a wild goose chase, just to send Cooper and the rest of the SCVC unit a message. How he wasn’t there to stop the beating. How he hadn’t found Dyer in that hospital for three days.

  Three fucking days.

  Seeing Dyer in that bed, helpless, paralyzed and one step away from life support, Cooper had lost it. His hatred for Petero Valquis and Emilio Londano had warred with his feelings of total helplessness over Dyer’s condition. What he couldn’t explain to Celina, then or now, was how he of all people had let Dyer get hurt.

  And that he couldn’t beg, bargain, or sell his soul to turn back time and make things right.

  Cooper had picked up the phone a hundred times to call Celina, even when Dyer insisted he didn’t want her to know. And every time he’d had the phone to his ear, his pulse raced and words had evaded him. Even now, he could do little more than simply gut out the facts to her.

  Closing his eyes to fight off the memories, he listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers gutting out their own angst. Dyer, being the man that he was, had told Cooper repeatedly to get over what had happened. Move on. He wasn’t happy about the wheelchair, but he was damn glad to still be breathing. He was back at work for the DEA, albeit at a desk now, and continued to take physical therapy. Dyer had never let anything keep him down for long. He’d given himself a whole week to work through his anger, depression, and grief over the loss of his legs and then he’d told Cooper one day to get lost.

  “I’m alive,” Dyer had said, rubbing his hand over his newly grown bush of beard, “and I’m going to live, damn it. I’m not going to hold your hand and endorse your fucking guilt complex, Coop, so get the hell out of here and go save the world.”

  Cooper smiled, opened his eyes.

  Three girls in their early teens jostled each other, laughing as they filed out of the convenience store’s front doors. Each was dressed identically to her friends in tight jeans and puffy nylon coats. As they walked in front of the Durango, each carried a pop and a bag of M&Ms.

  A high-def image of Celina’s full lips sucking blue M&Ms into her mouth rose up in Cooper’s mind. Jesus, she made him crazy. He’d put himself on the Jagger team just so he could come to Des Moines and try to see her, knowing exactly how he’d react when he did. Even after all these months she could do the simplest thing and send his libido into overdrive. All that flawless skin and those righteous curves.

  And a superhero complex bigger than his own.

  “…I had hoped to offer myself as a trade to Annie for her kids.”

  A superhero complex channeling Mother Teresa.

  “I just didn’t want those kids to get hurt.”

  Shit. When he’d seen her, not in the rush of the adrenaline-fueled take down, but back at the Fed building, he’d so totally lost the ability for coherent thought, he’d stopped breathing and nearly grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her just to make sure she was okay. She looked so damned good in her simple black turtleneck and jeans. Those red boots. Her cheeks still rosy from the cold air…

  Then, when she’d told him her plan to trade herself for Richardson’s kids, he’d almost grabbed her to shake some sense into her. What was she thinking?

  But the worst thing about their reunion was how she went from flirting with him to despising him in a heartbeat when he explained—tried to explain—why he hadn’t told her about Dyer.

  She was right. He was unbelievable. He should have told her. He should have called and checked on her.

  Slapping the steering wheel, Cooper shoved the Durango in gear and pulled back out onto the highway. He couldn’t go back to San Diego without setting things straight. Couldn’t look at Dyer now without remembering the hurt and sadness and anger he’d seen in Celina’s eyes.

  Cranking the radio up louder, Cooper pressed the accelerator and gutted it out along with the Peppers.

  Chapter Six

  Crossing the one-way downtown street, Cooper entered the complex that housed the FBI. The building was well-worn but architecturally interesting with gothic details all over the façade. He flashed his badge at the elderly black security guard and the man nodded, giving him a semi-salute with his hand. “Back for more?” he asked, his grin sporting a gold tooth.

  “Can’t get enough of this place,” Cooper lied.

  The guard chuckled. “Miss Celina makes it an attractive place to visit.” He winked at Cooper. “Stay outta trouble.”

  At that moment, Celina burst out of the frosted glass door of the FBI office, a backpack on her shoulder and a box crammed to the brim in her arms. Her dark eyes were narrowed to slits and he thought, uh-oh.

  Forester had his hand on her elbow, trying to keep up with her, but Celina walked faster, shaking off his hand. “I do not need an escort to walk twenty crappy steps out of this building.” She bee-lined straight for Cooper.

  Cooper stopped in his tracks.

  Forester tried to catch her. “Enough crap, Davenport.” His hand touched her elbow, grabbed for purchase, and somehow Cooper knew what was coming.

  “You can’t quit over this,” the chief said.

  Quit? “You quit?” Cooper echoed.

  Celina’s narrowed eyes glanced at and dismissed him all in one motion. She stopped and Forester barely avoided crashing into her. His face was puffed up like a bulldog and he was breathing hard. He righted himself, but left his hand on her arm.

  “I’m not the one who messed up.” Cooper recognized the dangerously low tone of her voice, and almost took a step back as she went for Forester’s throat. “And I won’t be the fall guy for you or Quarters. Your big picture mentality almost got two innocent kids killed today. I will be taking this to the Assistant Director in Charge and the Deputy Director, and if all else fails, by God, I’ll take it all the way to D.C. and Director Moeller himself.” She drew in a breath and let it out sharply, and Cooper was relieved that her hands were full. Her sidearm was in easy reach. “Now, get your hand off my elbow.”

  Forester stared her in the eye for a second before releasing her. “You walk out of here, Davenport, and your career with the FBI is over.”

  Oh, Christ. Don’t challenge her.

  Celina’s chin raised a notch. She glanced at Cooper and back at Forester. “Then I’ll go to work for the DEA,” she said, and Cooper found himself taking the box from her arms as she shoved it at him.

  Forester finally registered that Cooper was witnessing this exchange. The chief sent him a look that would have made a lesser man piss his pants.

  Heading for the door, Celina hiked up the backpack sliding off her shoulder and blew a kiss at the security guard. “Take care, Lawrence.”

  “You ain’t leavin’ us, are you Miss Celina?”

  “Afraid so. Don’t forget to take your blood pressure medicine.” She pushed the door open with her butt. “Have Ronni remind you, okay?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he answered, a hang-dog look coming over his face.

  Celina waved at him as she walked out and shot one more round of daggers at Forester.

  Forester stared at the closing door, then turned on Cooper. “Your supervisor’s going to hear about this.”

  Cooper tried to raise his hands, found them full. “What did I do?”

  “Go back to California where you belong, Harris, before you do something really stupid and
find my shoe buried in your ass.”

  Forester disappeared behind the frosted glass, and for a split second, Cooper considered showing the chief his own shoe, but in his years with the DEA, he’d learned not to waste time on people and situations that did not further his purpose. Losing his temper with the Des Moines Unit Chief would only endanger his prestigious position with the SCVC taskforce. That did not serve his purpose.

  Besides, karma was a bitch and it looked like Forester was due for a visit right along with that fucker Quarters.

  Looking out the front door again, Cooper followed Celina’s progress across the one-way street toward the parking garage. She’d just quit because her job had come in conflict with her personal ethics code. Cooper remembered a time when he’d almost done the same.

  A wise mentor had showed him the value of balancing judgment calls while keeping his ethics and morals intact. Hard to do, especially after seeing the rot-gut shit of the underground world for years. His deep-seeded ethics and morals had sometimes taken a backseat to his all-encompassing desire to clean up that world. He rarely thought in terms of ethics anymore, just laws.

  Like today. He hadn’t given much thought to Richardson’s kids. If he’d thought about them, it would have bothered him, and he couldn’t perform his job properly if he was bothered over the ethical dilemma they presented. Arresting their mother and her boyfriend in front of them wasn’t a day at the park, but letting the two criminals go wasn’t an option. The damage they had done, and would continue to do to innocent lives, warranted definitive and immediate action. How could you balance that with two innocent children? It was a no-win situation.

  “You goin’ after her?” the guard asked, bringing him back to the here and now.

  Cooper started for the door. “Yeah, I’m going after her.” Using a shoulder, he pushed open the door. “God help me, I never could resist trouble.”

  Standing by her Civic hatchback in the parking garage, Celina waited for Cooper. Her cheeks were hot, even though she could see her breath puffing out in little white clouds. Her heart hammered in her chest and her palms were sweating. It wasn’t bad enough she’d quit in the heat of the moment, but then she’d forced a showdown with Forester in front of Cooper. Not an impressive move for someone trying not to look inexperienced and overly emotional. Someone trying to prove her team-oriented approach to work so she could get back on his team.

  Damn. This day was spinning further into the realm of unbelievable. Getting shot at. Running into Cooper. Finding out he had lied, if only by omission, about Dyer. Then Forester and Quarters trying to intimidate her during the debriefing and when she’d questioned their hasty and ill-thought-out take-down plan, they’d tried to stick her on administrative leave.

  Administrative leave. The words stuck in her throat, clogging it.

  Already on edge and emotional after her argument with Cooper, she’d let her temper get the better of her. Damn Cuban temper.

  Cooper entered the parking garage and stopped, eyes squinting at the change in light as he scanned the area looking for her. When his face registered her presence, Celina didn’t know what to do. Smile or cry? Apologize or demand an apology from him? Fall at his feet and beg him to take her back to California or grab her box and run from the lecture she knew was coming?

  Undecided, she brought her hands up to her mouth and blew warm breath on them as he approached. His face was expressionless as she stretched out her arms to take the box filled with her scant personal stuff, but he stopped far enough back she couldn’t reach it. “You ever do anything half-assed?”

  Celina searched his eyes for any trace of humor but what she saw was unreadable. She shored up her backbone just in case he was going to start the lecture. “No.”

  It was at least a full thirty seconds before Cooper smiled. “Me neither.” He bypassed her, opened the hatch of the Civic, and dropped the box into it. Shutting the door, he leaned a hand on her car. “Buy you a beer?”

  Letting go of the breath she was holding, Celina’s heart hammered in a different rhythm. Heat bloomed in her stomach as well as her cheeks. She decided to throw her last ounce of luck out as a wager. “Only if dinner’s included, and only if we stop by Child Services and check on Annie’s kids first.”

  This time Cooper extended the silence for a full minute before he answered her, and there it was again, that almost palpable sexual energy. “You know, Celina,” Cooper started.

  And then Celina heard her name echo off the concrete walls around her. “Davenport!”

  Go away! Celina wanted to shout back. Cooper was just about to say something like I’ve missed you or I’m sorry I didn’t call you. Come back to the SCVC with me. Celina didn’t care if there was a full-blown blizzard and an all-out terrorist attack descending on them at that very moment, she didn’t want to be interrupted.

  As Cooper turned and Celina leaned around him to see who was calling her name, she closed her eyes in dismay.

  Dominic Quarters, complete in parka and boots, jogged toward them.

  She’d gotten out from under Quarters’ thumb in California, only to end up under it once more here. It was like career stalking. The man would not leave her alone.

  But she’d just quit. Nothing he could do to her now.

  “Celina,” he said, as he came to a stop near them. He gave Cooper a dismissive once-over. “This has all been a terrible misunderstanding.” He smiled at her; the same smile he’d given her earlier that afternoon in the Hy-Vee parking lot when he’d suggested she act as an Avon lady.

  Unbelievable. Even after putting her, Ronni, and Annie’s kids in danger, and sticking Celina on administrative leave, he still had hopes she’d get busy with him.

  “Tensions are running high and, well, my god,” —he forced a sad face— “you were shot at earlier. You’re stressed.”

  Reaching out, he tried to rub her arm, but she jerked it away. Cooper leaned back against a black Durango parked behind him and crossed his arms, open interest on his face.

  “You’re emotional right now,” Quarters continued. “I understand that. Believe me, I do. But quitting isn’t the answer.” Moving so he could put his arm around her shoulders, he drew her away from her car. “Let’s go back to my office and talk about this. I’ll make some reservations at Luigi’s and we can discuss your future over dinner.”

  Celina almost laughed. Instead she rolled out from under his arm, shoved him away. “No thanks. In case I haven’t already made this clear, which I’m pretty sure I have, that scenario is never going to happen in this lifetime.”

  Opening her car door, she met Cooper’s stare over the frame. “Mexican sounds good. There’s a great little mom-and-pop restaurant a few miles from here. You want to ride with me or follow?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. Straightening, he uncrossed his arms and gave her a small salute. “I’ll follow you.”

  Celina started the car and cranked the heater, relieved to be out of Quarters’ reach. As she put the car in reverse and drove out of the parking spot, Quarters said something to Cooper. Cooper’s response was delivered with a finger to Quarters’ face. Celina chuckled as Quarters stepped back and narrowed his eyes. Cooper smiled, patting him on the shoulder and walking around him to get in the Durango.

  A minute later, at a stoplight, Celina snuck a look in her rearview mirror at Cooper idling behind her. Forget The Beast. The Terminator was back, his dark eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, jawline set belligerently. One hand was on the wheel of his SUV and he appeared to be staring back at her, but she couldn’t be sure.

  She glanced away, convinced he looked more like a dangerous criminal than a man of the law.

  Running her hands through her hair, Celina pulled it away from her face and secured it with a rubber band. As the light turned green and traffic started to move, she gave Cooper another glance and found she still couldn’t decide if he was looking at her or not.

  Reaching over to the passenger seat, she retrieved her sunglasses and
slid them on before shifting the car. Looking up in the rearview the next time, she saw Cooper was smiling.

  The restaurant was on the outskirts of town, set off the main road a hundred yards with a gravel parking lot and a trailer park atmosphere that made Cooper’s skin tight. In ten years as a DEA agent and the three years before that as a street cop, he’d spent a fair number of nights in dives just like this one, hanging out with narks and drunks and losers in order to peg his criminal.

  “You look like you’re about to have a tooth pulled,” Celina said, her boots kicking up little puffs of snow as she walked toward him. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her full lips now sported pink lip gloss that matched her rose-tinted sunglasses. Between the clouds and setting sun, Cooper knew she didn’t need the sunglasses. He also knew the lip gloss was for him.

  Forcing his attention away from her lips, he scanned the rusting gutters, the lopsided sign claiming authentic Mexican food, and the peeling beige paint. The place was only one step below the Child Services building they’d just left. “Makes me want to get back on the first plane to San Diego.”

  “We’re here for the food, not the décor.”

  “True, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re afraid to be seen with me.” He wished she’d lose the sunglasses so he could see her eyes. Those eyes that had been so much a part of his fantasies in the past year. “Afraid some of those suits in your office will see you having dinner with a DEA man?”

  Celina removed her glasses like he wanted. Her brows flexed down as she tried to decide if he was joking. “There are only two things I’m afraid of, Cooper, and neither of those concerns what my coworkers think about my personal life. I admire and respect you and if you’d prefer a nicer building, I’ll take you across town, but the food and the service won’t be as good.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Your choice.”

  He didn’t give a rat’s ass where they ate so long as he got to look into those eyes and feed another fantasy. She was still pissed about the Dyer thing, and, like Quarters had mentioned back in the parking garage, she had been shot at earlier. With a sawed-off double-barreled cop killer. That wasn’t an experience most people shrugged off easily. Even experienced agents like him.