He knew by her smile that she didn’t care for either. “Both.”
When hell freezes over, Wichita. I intend to follow you around, step for step.
She looked at him, expressionless. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
He glanced at his order, but didn’t pick it up. “I always try to be reasonable.”
“Keep trying,” she murmured.
Garrett looked at her sharply. “What was that?”
Megan finished her drink before answering. She wasn’t about to get anything further out of him tonight, she thought. He was determined to be a tight-lipped, pompous ass. “I think it’s past my bedtime.”
A sense of loss doused him, even though he’d expected that things would turn out this way. “I’ve got a bed upstairs. Save you a trip home.”
Megan smiled, turning down the invitation. Turning away from the temptation.
“I’d only have to go home in the morning. Might as well not put things off.” She rose to her feet. “But thanks for the offer.”
He rose as well, coaxed to his feet by an appetite that insisted on plaguing him. “Speaking of not putting things off—”
“Yes?”
Because he was good at what he did, he figured there was more than an even chance that he wouldn’t see her again—at least not soon. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“I’ve been wondering what it would be like to kiss you.”
Megan wouldn’t have been able to explain just why she felt as if someone had suddenly put a match to her. But she did.
She raised her face slightly, challenging him. “So what’s keeping you from finding out?”
“Not a thing,” he murmured.
Chapter 4
Megan could feel her heart hammering wildly in her chest like a carpenter out of control. Could feel the rhythm echoing in her throat and her ears.
It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, to feel this way. She was a grown woman.
Maybe, a tiny voice whispered, you’re feeling this way because you’re a grown woman.
She couldn’t take her eyes off his, even as he slipped his hands along her face, tilting it up toward him. Even as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Her breathing stopped.
The hammering didn’t.
Over the years, she’d lost track of how many times she’d kissed and been kissed. Precocious, she’d started out on the road early, when she was barely thirteen, with a game of Spin the Bottle. Kissing had always been enjoyable—even pleasurable—with the right partner.
But she’d never before felt anticipation stop the air moving in her lungs.
Well, except for the first time. And that had been a huge disappointment.
Just like this was probably going to be.
A feeling of heated curiosity slowly forged its way through his veins, and Garrett cupped her face and touched his lips to hers.
She tasted of wine and promise. And of sins yet uncommitted.
Intrigued, looking for bottom, Garrett deepened the kiss. And found there was no bottom. Only an overwhelming sense of wonder.
Curiosity took him prisoner.
The napkin she’d forgotten to leave on the table slid from her fingers to the floor. Before she realized what she was doing, Megan had dug her fingertips into his shoulders, for balance.
And to keep from being swept away.
Struggling for air, for her own depth, knowing she’d be lost if she didn’t do something immediately in self-defense, she kissed him back. Long and hard.
And disintegrated his kneecaps. Both of them. He could feel them going in unison. Garrett could have sworn he heard thunder roaring in his ears as well.
He wanted more.
An intrusive noise, occurring somewhere along the perimeter of this world that contained only two, finally registered. It forced Garrett to draw away from the feisty little private investigator with the wicked, wicked mouth and the seductive attitude. Their waiter was clearing his throat, making his presence known as politely as possible.
Releasing Megan, Garrett looked at the man expectantly. The waiter looked straight him, his face sober, as if he hadn’t interrupted anything unusual.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
Yeah, there was going to be something else. But not here and not now, Garrett thought. But there was going to be something else. He made that promise to himself.
Garrett tested his throat by clearing it first. It was a wonder she hadn’t disintegrated his vocal cords, he thought. His eyes shifted to Megan. “Dessert?”
She almost laughed at the deadpan. “I’ve already had mine.”
“Yeah, me too.” He looked at the waiter. “You can bring the check.”
Megan stepped back, surprised that she still could. For a second there, her legs had felt as wobbly as gelatin. Uncertainty took a toehold. Wichita looked as if he was getting ready to go upstairs—with her. But suddenly, she wasn’t ready to continue the game. Not just yet.
“Don’t leave on my account.” She nodded at his plate, already distancing herself from the table. And from him. “Enjoy your French dip,” she said over her shoulder. Then she walked away.
He would rather have enjoyed her.
Business first, pleasure later, he warned himself. He remained where he was, watching her go. It was a moment longer before he trusted his legs enough to attempt to sit down. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by collapsing into the chair.
The lady, he mused as she disappeared from view, was every bit as lethal as she looked.
“And you kissed him.”
His voice ringing with disbelief and amusement, Sam Walters crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the edge of Megan’s desk. Well, well, well. He had to admit to himself that this certainly was an interesting footnote to her narrative.
Megan frowned at his tone. She’d come in early, hoping not to find anyone at the office. There were several things she wanted to check out before she got back to the Teasdales. She wanted to do it without interruptions.
But her plans evaporated when she discovered that both Sam and Cade were already there. Working on separate cases, all three of them had independently chosen to start at seven a.m.
Sam, winding up his own case, had wanted to know how hers was going. She found herself fielding one question after another.
In an unguarded moment, because last night had left her a little shaken and bemused, she’d told him what had happened in the restaurant.
Turning away from the computer, she dragged her hand through her hair. “Yes, he kissed me.”
She dearly regretted having slipped and told him this. She shared a lot with Sam, but this kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda. The very fact that telling him bothered her upset Megan even more. It made the moment—the kiss—out to be something more important that it was.
She and Sam had been friends ever since tenth grade. It was she who had brought Sam into the agency. Megan was as close to him as she ever allowed herself to be to anyone. For all intents and purposes, Sam was family.
And right now, he was annoying.
Sam had to admit that he was amazed. More than once, he’d seen Megan weave her webs when she was after something, but he’d never known her to get tangled up in the threads before. This was something new.
“Right in front of everybody?” He was trying to picture it in his mind. It didn’t quite jibe with the private Megan he knew.
Sam glanced up to see that Cade was standing in the doorway. One-quarter Cherokee, one-quarter Navajo, there were times when Sam thought the man seemed to be part spirit, materializing before anyone knew he was there. Sam’s guess was that Cade had heard everything that Megan had to say about the runaway case.
“I was only trying to get information out of Wichita. Is that clear?”
“A lip-to-lip transfer.” Sam nodded his head sagely. “Must be something new.” He looked over his shoulder toward the doorway. “You hear about it,
Cade?”
There was just the slightest hint of a smile on Cade’s mouth. “News to me.”
Terrific. Now she had both of them in here, acting like annoying little brothers. She glared at Sam. It served her right for sharing anything.
“This is the last time I answer any questions around here.” Sam laughed in response, and even Cade allowed himself a full smile. She gave up. “You two are hopeless. You know that, don’t you?”
Cade crossed to her, laying a friendly hand on her shoulder.
“Never hopeless, Megan. Always hopeful,” he corrected. It was a motto he lived by. Until he found his son, he had no other choice but to embrace it. “So where do you go from here?”
Because Cade’s only real rule at the agency was to be informed about the cases they undertook and then to keep at least nominally apprised of strategy and progress, Megan had already dashed off a quick note about her plans.
Since he was asking her, she assumed he hadn’t seen the note yet.
She glanced at the last screen she’d pulled up on the monitor. She was logged on to the Missing and Abused Children web site. There was nothing listed here, either. No one had bothered to input any data on Joe Stafford. She supposed that since he’d turned eighteen recently, he no longer qualified as a missing child.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t one.
With a sigh, she closed the program.
“I’m going to go back to the Teasdales to find out if any of their credit cards are missing.” Garrett’s appearance at their house yesterday had made her forget to ask about that. She upbraided herself for the oversight. And for her response to him. That made two things she held against him. “Maybe there’s a paper trail I can follow. If all else fails, I intend to tail Wichita.”
There’d been something in her eyes when she mentioned the DEA agent that had given Sam pause. If anyone had asked, he would have said that Garrett Wichita had better watch his back.
Still, Sam couldn’t resist. “Liked communicating with him that much, did you?”
Her frown deepened. “Can it, Sammy. Just because we’re supposed to be friends doesn’t mean I can’t use you for target practice.” She looked at Cade. At least she could always depend on him to be serious, and she proceeded to fill him in on Kathy’s association with Velasquez.
With her former FBI training, Cade knew that Megan could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop him from being concerned about her. “Her parents know?”
She laughed shortly. “No, thank goodness.” They were worried enough as it was. News like this could kill them. “From what Wichita said, I don’t think Kathy really knows what she’s involved in. According to him, Velasquez likes them naive and innocent and underage.”
The phone rang. Sam, who was closest to it, leaned over and picked up the receiver. “ChildFinders, Inc. How can I help you?” It was an opening phrase that had brought so many cases into their lives in the last two-and-a-half years. And to Sam, it had brought more. It had brought Savannah and her daughter, Aimee, and forever changed his life for the better.
He paused now, listening. A look of recognition came over his face, and his eyes shifted to Megan.
“She’s right here. Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, Sam quietly said to Megan, “I think you just got your first break.” He held out the receiver to her.
She had no idea what he was talking about, but she had a pretty good idea she knew who had to be on the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
She heard Judith Teasdale’s breathless voice in her ear, slightly muffled and indistinct. Megan’s guess was that the woman had been crying. Was probably crying still. She remembered coming up on her mother.
Don’t cry, Mommy, please don’t cry.
I can’t help it, Megan. The tears just won’t stop coming.
“Megan, she called,” Judith was saying. “Kathy called—” Her voice broke. It was a moment before she could continue. Megan heard the woman say, “No, I’m not all right, how could I be?” and knew that Warren was there with his wife. “Kathy’s in terrible trouble,” Judith told her. “I just know it.”
It didn’t take an expert to see that Judith was on the verge of becoming incoherent. The stress was beginning to tear her apart.
“Calm down, Mrs. Teasdale.” Megan kept her own voice steady, though it wasn’t easy. If Kathy had made contact, there was a strong chance that the case could all be wrapped up before the weekend. “What did she say to you? Try to remember her exact words.”
She heard Judith draw a deep breath before saying, “Her exact words were ‘Help me, Mom.’”
Megan could hear Judith’s voice filling with tears again. She had to keep the woman focused. “Did she tell you where she was?”
“No, no she didn’t. She was talking crazy. Crying. Megan, I’ve never heard her like that. I couldn’t make any sense out of what she was saying. She kept apologizing, telling me she was sorry. Asking her father and me to forgive her. Said she didn’t know what she was doing, and now it was too late. She was afraid,” Judith said, sobbing. “Very, very afraid. I tried to tell her that it wasn’t too late, that it was never too late. That we’d come and get her—her father and I. All she had to do was tell me where she was. But she wouldn’t. That was when she said that he’d kill us if we came for her.”
Megan thought she knew who Kathy was referring to, but for Judith’s sake, she played dumb. “‘He’?”
For a moment, Megan debated putting the call on the speaker phone so the others could also hear, then decided against it. She didn’t want any extraneous sound throwing the woman off.
“I guess she must have meant Joe. I tried to reason with her, to tell her that we would handle everything. All she had to do was tell us where to find her. The last thing she said was that she couldn’t. And then she hung up.” Judith began sobbing. “How can I help her, Megan, if I can’t get to her?”
Wichita had asked permission for a tap. It had to be in place by now. If she were to make a calculated guess, Megan would say that the machinery had already been in place and running when he’d asked the Teasdales’ permission yesterday.
“How long was Kathy on the phone with you?”
With obvious effort, Judith collected herself. “Not long. She talked very quickly. At first, I didn’t even know that it was Kathy. It just didn’t sound like my baby.”
Megan guessed that the teenager was probably coming off a high, or about to take flight, and had clutched to the last ounce of common sense and courage she had in order to make the call.
“What did he do to her, Megan?” Judith demanded.
Nothing irreversible, I hope.
. “First we get her back, then we sort out everything else,” Megan promised. “You did very well, calling me, Mrs. Teasdale. Let me talk to your husband, please.” She heard the receiver being transferred, then Warren’s deep voice came on the line.
“Megan?”
“Hello, Mr. Teasdale. Don’t talk, just listen. I hate to add to your concerns, but if you have any kind of a tranquilizer in the house, I’d suggest you have your wife take it. Not enough to knock her out, just enough to calm her down a little. Do you understand? She sounds on the verge of a breakdown.”
There was pain in Warren’s voice. “You’re right, she is. I’ll see what I can find.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a little while. One more thing—can you remember what time Kathy called?”
“Just a few minutes ago. We called you immediately after she hung up.”
Glancing at her watch, Megan approximated the time and jotted it down.
Shouldn’t be a problem pinpointing the call, she mused. What would be a problem was getting the DEA to share the information. But that was what connections and unreturned favors were for.
“Thank you.” She put down her pencil. “Hang in there, Mr. Teasdale. It’s almost over.”
Hanging up, she looked at Cade and Sam. Neither one h
ad moved since the call had come in. It was great, she thought, knowing you had a support group always watching your back. Knowing you had people you could always count on. Her mouth curved. Even if the “group” only consisted of two guys.
Megan leaned back in her chair. “Okay, who do we know in the DEA or with connections to the DEA?”
“Why?” Cade asked. “What’s up?”
She’d already filled Sam in on Garrett’s background. She didn’t know how much Cade had overheard.
“They have a phone tap on the Teasdales’ phone. Had it there since yesterday. That means when her call came in, they got a lock on the general location, if not the actual number. To get that location, we need someone on the inside. Wichita doesn’t strike me as someone who willingly plays well with others and shares, unless there’s something in it for him.”
Cade shook his head. “The DEA is a little out of my league.” He’d been a writer before opening ChildFinders, Inc. Megan and Sam were the ones with law enforcement connections.
“Sam?” she said.
Sam appeared dubious. “I’ll make a few calls, but nobody comes to mind right off the bat.” He looked at Megan. “I always thought government agents were your realm, Megan.”
“I never got into that part of the alphabet,” she quipped, frustrated. “Why don’t you make your calls?” She pushed the telephone toward Sam.
He picked up the receiver, then thought of his wife and the way he’d met her. When Savannah had come to him, asking him to locate her kidnapped daughter, she’d only made one stipulation. She’d wanted to come along with him on the investigation.
Holding the telephone receiver aloft, his fingers poised over the keypad, he looked at Megan. “I’ve got another idea.”
Garrett sighed, feeling more dead than alive. He’d spent the night seeking peaceful oblivion on every part of the damn mattress, only to fail.
You’d think by now, after all this time, he would have become accustomed to sleeping in strange places. He’d done it for more than half his life, both privately and on the job.
But it seemed that the only place he actually got a decent night’s sleep was in that small two-bedroom house he had bought five years ago and made his home.
A Forever Kind of Hero Page 5