Agent Daddy

by Alice Sharpe

“No.” He said it in such a way that she knew the subject was closed.

  “We’re safer near you than away from you, Trip. Besides, they may not be coming at all.”

  “Maybe.”

  He needed comforting and so did she. As she put her arms around his solid torso, the warmth of his body seeped into hers. A hard bulge under his suede vest reminded her he wore a gun in a shoulder strap, that he took the threat against the house and the people inside it very seriously. “I’m sorry about the agent,” she said as his arms circled her. He held her so close it was hard to breathe. That was okay, she needed his closeness way more than she needed oxygen.

  “Every law enforcement agent knows this is a possibility,” he said.

  “His poor wife.”

  “Yes.”

  She looked up at him. His mouth was very close, his face crisscrossed with shadows. She took a deep breath as she peered into his dark eyes and said, “Someday you’ll fall in love.”

  He ran a finger along the small scar and across her lips. “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, of course you will.”

  “Will she be a blonde with big blue eyes?”

  “She’ll be brave,” Faith said. “She’ll be fearless.”

  “She sounds rather formidable.”

  “She’ll know what she wants. Who she wants.”

  “And that someone will be me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lucky me,” he whispered. His lips brushed her forehead, then her ear, and he added, “I know I’m going to regret this,” and in the next moment his lips touched hers.

  The house might be very quiet, but the thundering in Faith’s head sounded like a herd of wild horses unleashed. His mouth was incredibly soft, welcoming, a homecoming for her soul. He gathered her around the waist and held on to her as though she might slip through his grasp, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders to keep from spinning to the ground. He whispered against her ear, “Tell me right now to get my hands off you.”

  “I—”

  “Because if you don’t, there’s no stopping. Not tonight, not ever again. This is fair warning. Think about what you want. Last night you were so sure.”

  This was closeness, this was merging, this was needing and being needed. It didn’t mean she was backing away from her goals, it just meant that she wasn’t being rigid.

  That was her story and she was sticking with it.

  “Ssh,” she said as she claimed his mouth.

  Chapter Ten

  The trip from the upstairs of the house to the cabin happened in a daze. Trip left her side but once, and that was to talk to a guard he’d posted in the kitchen.

  Once in the cabin, they turned on no lights, but the moon had broken through the cloud cover and streamed in the skylight, bathing the cabin in shimmering silver.

  With the door locked behind them, they once again fell into each other’s arms. She was glad he wasn’t asking her to explain her change of heart when it came to making love—she really had no sensible explanation except that she knew she had to have him, even if it was just once. Anyway, what did good sense have to do with emotions as vibrant as those she felt when Trip took her in his arms?

  He gently pushed her onto the bed in a sitting position and knelt before her, unlacing her shoes, slipping them from her feet. Next came her socks, and then he pulled her upright. As she stood in the moonlight, he unzipped her trousers and pulled them down her legs, steadying her as she stepped out of them. She could feel the suppressed energy in his hands as he unbuttoned her blouse and released the front closure on her bra, freeing her breasts. She stood naked before him, and she watched as his gaze caressed her like loving hands. When his gaze lingered for a moment on the scars across her abdomen, she started to cover herself. He caught her hands.

  “Don’t hide,” he whispered.

  “But the scars—”

  “Are part of you. They’re nothing to worry about.”

  She had to see him naked, too. Stepping closer, she slipped his vest off his broad shoulders and added it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He unbuckled the shoulder holster and took it off, laying the gun aside, and then she slowly undid his shirt buttons, pausing when she got to his waist, where she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He helped her by taking off his shirt and then she pulled his jeans down his long legs and then his underwear until he stepped free of his clothes and stood before her cast in pewter, as perfect as a man could be, the visible signs of his excitement making Faith quiver inside.

  She touched him as his fingers caressed her breasts, ran down her stomach, slipped between her legs. In the next instant, their bodies pressed together in a desperate attempt to get as close as possible, until he lifted her from her feet and she wrapped her legs around him. They tumbled onto the bed, penetration coming as long, deep thrusts with no more preamble. She dug her fingers into the solid mounds of his buttocks, head back, eyes closed, until his mouth once again found hers and his tongue plunged the same way his pelvis did. The world shrank in on itself, reduced to two people and the passion that burned the silver night until their groans of fulfillment merged into one.

  She had no idea sex could be this way. That it could consume like a forest fire, and yet leave a person feeling renewed and not damaged, that need could rise and fall like a frantic pulse until a deep peace fell, an all-consuming lethargy.

  Sometime later, he kissed her awake. “I have to go,” he said softly as her eyelashes fluttered open. She reached for him as he sat up.

  “Where are you going?”

  He leaned over and gently kissed her lips. “Back inside.”

  Of course.

  “I don’t want to,” he added. He kissed her again and then got off the bed. She watched him dress, the sight of him in the moonlight arousing every sense. The bed felt lonely without him.

  He murmured good night as he slipped out the door. The lock sprang closed behind him.

  TRIP SAT IN THE TRUCK for a moment, watching Faith walk into the school, reluctant to leave until the doors closed behind her.

  It wasn’t just that watching her was such a fine way to spend a few moments, although there was always that. He blinked a few times to purge the memory of her naked body from his mind, knowing if he let it dwell there he’d be happy to sit like a moron for hours.

  Oh, the sweet, sweet softness of her. The smoothness, the roundness. The sounds she made, the way she held on to him, the feelings she stirred so deep in his body that it surely had to touch his soul. A man could become addicted to a woman like Faith. Hopelessly addicted.

  She looked over her shoulder at the door and the flash of a smile touched her lips, then she disappeared. He grinned to himself like some lusty schoolboy, already planning the next time they’d meet, the next time they’d be alone.

  For some unexplainable reason, he flashed back to the bus disaster, to the woman he hadn’t been able to save. For the first time since it happened, he felt a sense of peace about it. The regret and sorrow would always be there, yes, but now he knew he could put it in perspective. And he knew he had Faith to thank.

  He finally headed over to Shay’s Diner. He’d seen the sheriff’s car in the lot on his way into town and hoped to catch him before he left. He was relieved to find the cruiser still in the parking lot.

  Trip entered the diner, taking off his hat, greeting a table of ranchers who had been friends of his father’s. All of them were over sixty now, hard-bitten men with rangy bodies and weathered skin, meeting to talk about feed and livestock and market prices. He knew he would be welcome to join them by simple virtue of his father’s reputation, but he wasn’t really one of them. He thought he’d probably never be one of them, not in any valid way.

  He was an imposter, and he knew they knew it.

  He looked around for Marnie, but she must have been picking up an order in the back, as she wasn’t working the coffee carafe as usual. The sheriff had a booth to himself. Trip slid in across from him and th
e two men greeted each other.

  “You want to know what I’m doing about David Lee,” the sheriff said, as he shoveled in a forkful of hash browns.

  “You’re a mind reader.” Trip turned his coffee cup over and looked around for someone to fill it.

  “We found paint on Miss Bishop’s car and one tire track up near where she went off that we can’t trace to her vehicle or yours. The state lab has everything we’ve collected.” He took a long swallow of coffee. “When we get a definitive lead on the color and tire size of the vehicle we’re looking for, we’ll start in on David Lee’s buddies. I got a deputy trying to break alibis right now. Hell, you know the drill.”

  A waitress Trip had seen a couple of times before sidled up to the table. “What’ll you have?” she said while filling Trip’s mug.

  “Just coffee, thanks.” She was off in a flash. The place was packed and seemed short-staffed. Trip watched Torrence dip his toast into his egg yolk before adding, “Lee threatened Faith last night.”

  “So she told me. Did she file a complaint with Chief Novak? Is she going after a restraining order?”

  “That depends on Lee’s next move. Novak said he’d talk to the guy.” He didn’t add that he thought another conversation with Lee was a waste of time.

  “I’ll call the lab today and see if they have anything, try to hurry them up.”

  “Thanks. And then there’s the matter of my babysitter. Novak is sure Gina’s boyfriend has something to do with it, but the boyfriend says he’s innocent, and for some reason I believe him.”

  “You’re talking about Peter Saks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Another troublemaker. He was in the diner yesterday morning, throwing his weight around, giving everyone grief.”

  “I don’t get why Gina’s mother and the chief are so complacent about the fact she left and hasn’t checked in. I’ve been calling the mother every day and she can barely drum up the enthusiasm to talk to me.”

  “I heard the girl has a history of running off.”

  “Still…”

  Just then, a raised voice boomed through the diner. It seemed to come from the direction of the kitchen. A man burst through the double doors, looked around the room and zeroed in on Sheriff Torrence.

  In a flash, the man was out from behind the counter and threading his way through the restaurant. He stopped in front of Torrence and said, “What are you doing about it? What is anyone doing about it? My God, how long has she been gone?”

  Trip stood up. The newcomer looked like he was in his late thirties, tall, athletic build, dark blond hair and a prominent Adam’s apple. He was dressed in a crumpled gray suit and he’d pulled the knot on his pale blue tie away from his neck.

  “Sit down,” Trip said firmly.

  The man looked at Trip as though he’d suggested flying to the stars, but he slid in next to Torrence and folded his hands in front of him as though to keep them from pounding on something. “What are you doing to find her?”

  How was this guy related to Gina? Maybe a father or an uncle. Maybe Gina’s mother was finally getting concerned. He felt a tremendous wave of relief flood his nervous system. Finally someone was taking the disappearance of the girl seriously.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me your name?” Torrence said, as he pushed his half-eaten meal away. “And who are you talking about?”

  “My wife, for God’s sake. Don’t tell me no one knows she’s gone.”

  Gina, married?

  “And your wife is—”

  “Marnie Pincer. I’m Nate Pincer.”

  Trip’s relief washed away as quickly as it had arrived. He looked closely at Nate Pincer, trying to remember his and Marnie’s courtship. It was a blur; he’d been getting ready for college, hadn’t been to the wedding.

  What had Marnie mentioned about her husband? He traveled a lot on business. That’s right, he represented a line of high-end office furniture.

  “When’s the last time you saw your wife, Mr. Pincer?” Trip asked.

  Pincer was too upset to question Trip’s authority to ask questions. “Two days ago. No, three. I left after work that day to drive up to Seattle. I had appointments up there. I was supposed to come home last night, but I think I got a mild case of food poisoning from the crab salad I ate for lunch.” He exhaled heavily. “Anyway, I couldn’t keep driving so I checked into a motel and tried to call Marnie to tell her I wouldn’t be home, but she didn’t answer our phone. The damn woman refuses to get a cell phone.”

  “Did you find it unusual she didn’t answer?” the sheriff asked.

  “No, Marnie has lots of friends—she often goes to a movie with one of them or gets together to play cards. I planned on calling her back later, but I fell asleep. Woke up this morning and drove straight into town, dropped my bag off at the house and came over here to see her.”

  “Did your house look normal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did it look as though there had been trouble there? Broken windows, that kind of thing.”

  “No, no, nothing.”

  “What about her car, Nate?” Trip asked. “Was it at your house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t you think that was odd?”

  “I figured she caught a ride with Doris or one of the other gals. She does that sometimes.”

  “And you asked in the kitchen if anyone had seen her today?” Trip asked.

  “Yeah. They said she went home yesterday right after the breakfast service because she didn’t feel good. Maybe it wasn’t the crab salad that made me sick, maybe she and I had a virus or something and it hit us on the same day.”

  “You and Marnie getting along?” Torrence asked, his voice casual.

  “Yes. What a question!” Nate snarled. Had there been a slight hesitation before he spoke?

  “I suppose you called her friends?” Trip said.

  “Not yet. I was so sure she’d be here. She was on today’s schedule, she never misses work. Never.”

  Torrence put his napkin on his plate. “Let me out of here. I’ll go ask some questions.” Nate slid off the bench seat and Torrence got up. He made his way to the kitchen with his characteristic self-assured stride.

  Nate shook his head as he seemed to collapse onto the seat.

  “Did you call the hospital?” Trip said.

  “This is a small town,” Nate answered. “Marnie knows everyone. If she was at a friend’s house or sick, someone would have notified me. Why didn’t she call? She expected me home last night. If someone gave her a ride somewhere, why don’t they call me?”

  All good questions. Trip had years of practice masking his emotions, so it was with calm detachment he said, “Torrence will find her.”

  Nate looked hopeful. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Sure,” Trip said.

  “You think she’s just at a friend’s house or something?”

  “That’s the way these things usually work out,” Trip explained, but the truth was he felt uneasy. There were two women missing now, and experience warned him their disappearances were connected in some way. On the other hand, Gina might have met some new guy and gone off on a lark, and Marnie Pincer could have had a fight with her husband and be cooling off somewhere. She was a grown woman, and nobody even knew how long she’d been gone.

  FAITH WRAPPED UP HER day at the grammar school to find the keys to the red sedan, its tires properly inflated, waiting for her in the office. Once inside the car, she discovered a piece of paper taped to the steering column. Unfolded, it revealed a red heart, and written within the heart it said simply, “Sorry I can’t meet you. Please go straight home before it gets dark. New developments.” It was signed with a T.

  She smiled despite the portentous feel of the words new developments, and even ran a fingertip over the lines. The heart was hand-drawn and wasn’t much more refined than those her students produced, but it was a work of art to Faith, and she tucked it away for safekeeping.
<
br />   New developments. That was a wide open field if ever she heard one. First thing that came to mind was something to do with David Lee, but there were other names that followed. Neil Roberts, Gene Edwards, Gina Cooke, even the dead agent in Idaho whose name she couldn’t recall. Her gaze strayed repeatedly to the rearview mirror as she drove home.

  Home. Deceptive word. A word with connotations that didn’t really fit her situation. But for now she let the word and all its meanings wrap her like a warm blanket. She was going home to see Trip, and that’s all she really cared about at the moment. She’d figure out the rest later.

  Much later.

  There was a different armed guard at the Triple T gate, and as he moved to help her, she gazed down the long line of fencing in an attempt to see if the entire place was surrounded. It had to be, didn’t it? Wouldn’t the cows wander off if it wasn’t? She’d heard the ranch hands talking about mending fences and moving cattle and using the tractor to get feed to different pastures, but it was all so foreign. Peering now into the waning daylight, she could make out dark brown shapes near the top of a rolling hill. Part of the herd, no doubt, maybe the very cows she’d heard lowing as she lay awake last night once Trip left her bed.

  Just how big a ranch was the Triple T? How much land, how many head of cattle? She knew they used horses to work the ranch during the summer, but she hadn’t gotten down to the barn that housed them yet. There hadn’t been time to find out any of the details, and she thought ahead to the next two weeks and what she might learn.

  She drove up to the house to find Mrs. Murphy standing at the kitchen door with a bubbly looking Colin attached to her hip. The housekeeper looked anything but bubbly.

  “Is Trip here?” Faith asked as she approached, and as usual, the baby reacted to her by kicking and squealing and reaching for her. The little guy was a real ego booster, for sure, and she took him from Mrs. Murphy, kissing his cheeks and nuzzling his sweet neck.

  “No, he called a while ago, said he was caught up in some doings in town. If you can watch the wee one, I’ll walk down the to the machine shop and get Noelle.” Her lips thinned. “She’s been following George Plum around today. I swear that man spoils her rotten.”