Veiled Intentions

by Delores Fossen

  A lecture that didn’t come.

  “She wouldn’t have appreciated the help anyway,” Garrett grumbled.

  “That was my guess, too.”

  Now there was some profanity, but it wasn’t aimed at Joe. “It doesn’t make it any easier to watch.”

  Joe settled for a “No.”

  The conversation might have lacked quantity, but at the end of the next pause, Joe felt as if he’d reached some sort of truce with Katelyn’s brother. It was a truce he hadn’t even realized he wanted until it happened.

  “So the next step is to speak to Fiona Shipley?” Garrett asked, getting them back into a comfort zone they both understood—the job.

  “I’m waiting for her to return my call now.” He checked his watch. That wait was now on its third hour. “I got her cell number from Dr. Kent and left her a message.”

  “Kent, huh? That’s an interesting source for that particular bit of info.”

  Yes, Joe thought so, as well. “Sometimes, Garrett, I wonder if all four of them aren’t in on it. Like some conspiracy to cover up something that got botched either at Perfect Match or Kent’s office. They just keep coiling and winding around each other like a nest of vipers.”

  If he thought for one minute it would stop the sniper, Joe would haul all of them in and lock them up for as long as possible. Without physical evidence to connect them to the crimes, however, that lockup wouldn’t last long. They’d lawyer up and be out before the ink dried on the paperwork.

  There was a tap at the door, and he opened it to find Katelyn standing there. “Hello, Garrett,” she said, leaning closer to the phone. “Thin walls,” she added when Joe just looked at her.

  “Thanks for the BMW info,” he told Garrett. “I’ll let you know how it goes with Fiona.”

  “If it goes,” Katelyn corrected when he hung up.

  “It’ll go.” But Joe was beginning to doubt it himself. If she didn’t call soon, they’d have to look for her. Fiona was the one player in all of this that they hadn’t had a real chance to question. Joe had absolutely no proof, but the feeling in his gut told him that she had information that could help them get a handle on this case.

  Or else she was the killer.

  But either way, he needed to talk to her. With the wedding only a day away, that talk had to come soon.

  Joe watched as Katelyn peeled off her jacket, and in the process he felt his body rev up for all sorts of carnal possibilities. A glimpse of her lacy bra egged those possibilities on even more. But they came to a quick crash and burn when she reached for the first aid kit.

  “Another scratch?” he asked. Joe tried to keep emotion out of his voice, but the battle was lost before he opened his mouth.

  Katelyn shook her head. “Same one.”

  She quickly tossed the old bandage in the trash. It wasn’t so fast that Joe didn’t see the fresh blood.

  “That fight with Donovan,” he mumbled.

  Hell.

  “It’s no big deal.” She wiped the wound with antiseptic, hissed out a breath at the inevitable sting and put on a fresh bandage. “I just didn’t want to get any blood on the wedding dress when I try it on to make sure it fits.”

  He was glad Garrett wasn’t around to hear that one. Heck, he didn’t even want to hear it, so he focused on the second part of her oh-so-casual comment that wasn’t anywhere in the realm of being casual. “What wedding dress?”

  She turned and went into the bedroom. “It was in that box Brayden gave you.”

  And now it was on the bed. The corner of the large rectangular box was lifted slightly, and Joe caught a glimpse of ivory silk.

  “Look the other way,” she instructed. “I’m about to strip down to my underwear.”

  His body revved up again. “Modest?” Hard to believe, especially since they had a go at each other in the bathroom the night before.

  “No. Considering you’ve already seen me naked, modesty would be pointless. I just don’t want you looking for any bruises that Donovan might have left on me.”

  Another immediate halt on the revving. With lots of effort, he could ignore the blood comment but not that one. “Damn it, Katelyn, did he hurt you?”

  “No, but he likely bruised me when he slammed me against the wall.” She discarded her top on the bed and unzipped her skirt. “Don’t worry, I’m positive his bumps and bruises outnumber mine, and I seriously doubt he’ll be able to sit for a while.”

  That didn’t help one bit. “This isn’t a contest. Or a joking matter.”

  Huffing, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the dress from the box. But her attention wasn’t on the heap of silk, lace and seed pearls. Her eyes lifted to connect with his. “Don’t you think I know that? Care to guess what was going through my mind while I was ramming my knee into Donovan’s reproductive organs? I was thinking, no, worrying about you. I was afraid if you came in with guns blazing and fists flying, you’d get hurt.”

  “Guns blazing and fists flying?” Joe was on the verge of telling her that those things would have never happened. Never. But it was too uncomfortably close to a lie. The truth was he’d considered blazing guns, flying fists and any other extreme force when he saw Donovan swing that punch at Katelyn.

  “Great,” she mumbled. “Brayden didn’t pick this out. This is my mother’s dress.”

  It took Joe a moment to pound down the anger he was still feeling over those possible bruises, but from the groan that Katelyn made, it was obvious they had another problem to deal with first.

  “It’s a message,” she went on. “Like the one in that scene from The Godfather when they sent the fish wrapped up in the newspaper.”

  Joe shook his head, sure he’d missed something. “I don’t make the connection.”

  “It’s my mother’s way of saying ‘I know you won’t do anything that’ll result in bullet holes or bloodstains on this wedding dress since it’s practically a family heirloom.” Katelyn gave a heavy sigh. “She’s worried about me.”’

  “Well, that makes two of us.”

  Except he knew it wasn’t limited to such a small number. There was Brayden, Garrett and probably a whole multitude of other O’Malleys. Joe would have loved to say that their concern wasn’t warranted. But it was. In less than twenty-four hours, the undercover assignment would take them in the direction of the church—and the sniper.

  He was still in knots about that when he felt her fingertip skim over his stomach. His bare stomach. “Your button’s undone,” she said, remedying that for him. Well, she remedied it after another brush of her fingertip.

  “You’re trying to distract me from those possible bruises,” he let her know.

  “Yes, I am.” She smiled, undid the button again and planted a kiss on his stomach. “Is it working?”

  He fought to hang on to the anger a little longer, but it slipped away. “Like a charm.” And because the distraction felt so damn good, he slid his finger over the lacy edge of her bra. White lace. Against her cream-colored skin. Talk about erotic. Of course, it was highly possible it was erotic simply because it was Katelyn’s bra, Katelyn’s breast. “What can I say—I’m easy.”

  “You’re a lot of things, Sergeant Joseph Luis Rico, but easy isn’t one of them. In fact, I’d say you’re the hardest thing in my life right now. And no, there are no raunchy hidden meanings in that.”

  Joe smiled anyway and pushed the thoughts of bruises and snipers aside when she grabbed a handful of his shirt and hauled him onto the bed with her. He landed on top of her, but like the previous night, she quickly did something about that. Katelyn shifted, rolling them both over the soft mattress, and when she’d finished the rolling she was on top, straddling him.

  “Control issues?” he asked.

  But her mouth was already swooping down on his. Fast. A hungry kiss that left no doubt that she wasn’t after conversation. It was next to impossible to argue with that, even though he should be arguing. Instead, he was just thankful he’d picked up some cond
oms when he’d filled up the car with gas at the nearby convenience store.

  Joe reached up, opened the front closure on her bra and had the satisfaction of her breasts spilling out into his hands. She was small. Firm.

  Perfect.

  He cupped one, then the other and ran his thumbs over her nipples. It was obvious she enjoyed it from the way her mouth opened, and the soft sound of pleasure she made.

  Katelyn didn’t take the time to savor that pleasure, however. She pulled off her skirt, dragging it up and over her head and flinging it aside. No pause. No hesitation. She went after his belt and zipper. And Joe surprised her, and himself, by catching on to her wrist to stop her.

  “Control issues?” he repeated. “Claustrophobia? Is that why you like to be on top?”

  She gave him an all right, here goes huff. “The missionary stuff is just a little scary for me, okay? It’s that whole being passive part.”

  “Passive?” Sex with Katelyn was anything but passive.

  Another flustered huff. And a hesitation. “It just doesn’t feel right. Or fair. It’s almost no work being on the bottom, but yet I’d still get all the…benefits.”

  Interesting. She carried her belief in the bedroom that she had to work twice as hard and twice as long to get what she wanted.

  As her cue that the conversation was over, she leaned down and went after his neck with a kiss. She didn’t stop there. Katelyn slid her hand over the front of his pants, a move that had Joe going from seriously aroused to rock-hard. “But if it’s something you want—”

  Joe ended that with a kiss of his own. “The only thing I want is you, Katelyn.”

  That slowed her down. She lifted her head, and her gaze met his. In the depth of those green eyes, there was concern that he was sure was mirrored in his. Concern they might have actually discussed.

  If his cell phone hadn’t rung.

  Cursing, she rolled off him so he could snatch the ringing annoyance that was still clipped to his belt. “Hello,” he barked. And this had better be important. Critical, even.

  “Joe?” the woman said.

  Even with the untimely interruption and his reaction to it, it only took him a split second to realize it was Fiona Shipley. He said the woman’s name aloud so that Katelyn would know, as well. She moved closer to him so she could hear the conversation.

  There wasn’t much to hear.

  “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop at the intersection of Highway 1604 and San Pedro,” Fiona instructed. “You know the place?”

  “I’ll find it.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in one hour. And Joe? My advice is to watch your back. Someone’s been following me. I think it might be this sniper.”

  And with that, Fiona hung up.

  “I GUESS IT WON’T DO any good to remind you this could be a trap?” Katelyn asked.

  Joe shook his head, his attention not on her but on driving through the massive parking lot that serviced not just the coffee shop but at least a half dozen other businesses. “What would you do if Merrick, Kent or even, heaven forbid, Donovan called and asked you to meet them?”

  It was a cheap—and incredibly effective—way to win an argument.

  She’d go, of course. With backup. Which Joe had, since there was no way she’d let him do this alone. That’s why Katelyn had worn jeans and a T-shirt and stuffed her hair beneath a Rangers baseball cap. It was as close to a disguise as she could get on such short notice. The plan they’d put together on the drive over was for her to do surveillance from the car and alert him via the communicator if anyone suspicious approached the place.

  “What about Fiona’s someone’s been following me. I think it might be this sniper comment?” Katelyn reminded him. “Think it’s true?”

  “Could be.”

  And that was all the more reason to stay alert. She didn’t want the sniper or anyone else sneaking up on them.

  Joe drove slowly past Java Dan’s. It wasn’t exactly quaint and cozy with the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that fronted the place. Even though there were only about a half dozen customers, with those windows and jammed parking lot, it’d be next to impossible to make sure someone didn’t pull out a rifle and start firing right through that glass.

  “I’ll sit in a booth near the back,” Joe commented, obviously addressing her concern before Katelyn could even voice it. Something he did often. It was almost as if they could read each other’s minds.

  Almost.

  The big exception to that was all the personal stuff going on between them. Other than his the only thing I want is you, Katelyn comment on the bed, they hadn’t talked a lot about, well, their feelings.

  She took the blame for that though.

  She’d done the majority of the stonewalling, but she wouldn’t be able to keep it up. Eventually, they’d be alone. Eventually, the phone wouldn’t ring, and they’d get around to having that mind-blowing sex that she’d been fantasizing about. In addition to a thoroughly enjoyable experience, which it would certainly be, it’d create a bond between them that even her surly attitude and devotion to the badge might not be able to break.

  Still, that wouldn’t stop her.

  Whatever was brewing between them wouldn’t be put off by her doubts. Or her fears.

  Frustrated at her inability to keep her mind on the mission, Katelyn checked the time. Since they’d left not long after Fiona’s call, they still had a good fifteen minutes to spare. Well, unless the woman was the always-arrive-early type like Katelyn was. If so, then Ms. Shipley might come walking up at any moment.

  She glanced in the vanity mirror to make sure her too-visible hair hadn’t escaped the cap, and while she was tucking and hiding, something occurred to her. “How about this? I’ll take one of the booths on the right, facing the window. That way, I can make sure no one comes in unannounced. You take Fiona to a booth on the other side of the shop.”

  “And what if she recognizes you?” Joe asked.

  “That’s what outstretched newspapers are for. I’ll buy one on my way in. Look,” Katelyn added when she saw the hesitancy in his eyes. “This might be the only chance we get to talk to Fiona. She might know something that can help us stop the sniper.”

  Joe glanced at the coffee shop. At her. And then at those windows. He shook his head. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  Too bad she couldn’t promise him that.

  Katelyn wished him good luck and got out before he could change his mind. Keeping a vigilant watch and trying to stay inconspicuous, she hurried across the parking lot and into the shop. As planned, she bought a paper and ducked into one of the booths.

  And waited.

  Joe came in several minutes later, and he took the only booth that was available on the far side of the room. He was visible, but barely. Katelyn had to scrunch herself in the corner to keep him and the windows in sight.

  “Equipment check,” she whispered into her communicator.

  “I hear you,” Joe responded.

  So the equipment cooperated. Hopefully, everything else would. She hated stakeouts in public places. There were just too many factors she couldn’t control.

  The door finally swung open, and Fiona walked in. Obviously this was not one of her better appearance days. Dressed all in dark colors, she had her hair pulled back and was wearing a pair of large-lens sunglasses.

  “Joe,” Fiona greeted.

  Katelyn had a nervous moment when the waiter blocked her line of sight, but thankfully Joe and Fiona ordered quickly, and the man moved.

  “I guess you know about the other couple who were shot last night?” Katelyn heard Joe ask the woman right away.

  Fiona nodded and pulled off her sunglasses. Katelyn carefully examined her expression now that she could see Fiona’s eyes. Her attention wasn’t on Joe but the windows. Yes. She was definitely watching her back.

  “Both survived,” Joe continued. “A lot better outcome than the first couple, that’s for sure. What were their names? Something like Ra
lph and Gail?”

  “Raul,” Fiona corrected. “We dated, briefly.”

  Joe didn’t respond to that right away. He waited until after they had their coffee, and he took a long sip. It was a good strategy. Fiona was obviously uncomfortable with the silence and began to fidget with her sunglasses.

  “The police questioned me about the deaths,” Joe finally said. “I guess they did the same to you?”

  “I’ve been, uh, unavailable.” Fiona glanced out the window again. Katelyn did the same.

  A longer pause this time for Joe. “You said something on the phone about being followed?”

  “I think it might be the sniper.” But then she immediately shook her head. “Or else it’s Addison Merrick. That’s one of the reasons I agreed to see you. I noticed you’ve been visiting him a lot—”

  “How did you know that?”

  A spark of surprise. Followed by more fidgeting. Another glance out the window. A glance that turned into a full stare. Katelyn followed the woman’s gaze to see what had captured her attention and saw the black BMW cruise by.

  Judas Priest.

  “The BMW’s back,” Katelyn whispered into the communicator. She moved out to the edge of the seat in case she had to use her weapon.

  “You were saying something about Addison,” Joe prompted Fiona.

  She nodded and moistened her lips. “I wondered if he’d said anything to you about me?”

  The car turned, circled and came back toward the coffee shop. If it was Donovan, he was either stupid or desperate. But the real question was, what had made him want to follow Fiona?

  Or had he actually followed Joe and her?

  Of course, there was also the stomach-churning possibility that it wasn’t Donovan at all. Maybe Donovan wasn’t the only person with access to a black BMW. Maybe it was Merrick. And maybe Fiona had been right, and it was the sniper following her.

  If so, this visit could turn deadly in a hurry.

  “Addison’s mentioned you a couple of times,” Joe told her. Practically a lie, but it seemed to get Fiona’s concentration back on him. It also helped her temporary attention deficit when the car darted out of sight again.