“What happened?”
With vivid detail, the scene unfurled in his mind like a movie. Time hadn’t managed to mute any of his recollections of that day. Coop could still feel the tug on his shoes from the asphalt, sticky from the July heat. Smell the rancid bite from the Dumpsters at the front of the alley. Hear the laughing cuss words being thrown back and forth as the teenagers taunted each other.
“Strung-out gang bangers were using Tasers on each other. For fun. We tried to break it up. That’s when they dropped the Tasers and pulled out guns. They took down Doug with three bullets to the chest.”
A quiet beat went by, broken only by the lapping of the bay against the pier. Then she asked softly, “Were you hurt?”
“Messed up my knee. I got Doug out of there. So he didn’t have to die in an alley. Raced him to the hospital, and his wife got to kiss him goodbye. But what ate at me was that his death didn’t matter. He lost his life trying to keep some scumbags from jerking each other around. Hell, that wasn’t even worth a torn hangnail.”
“It must’ve been hard. Did you get a new partner?”
He spun around to face her. “No. Once I got out of the hospital, I applied to the Secret Service.”
Again, she took a beat before replying, as though absorbing his words. “Why?”
That, apparently, was the five gajillion-dollar question. His parents, his sisters, his friends, his captain—everyone asked. Their bemused curiosity surprised him. It was just a step up the ladder, not a complete career change. He hadn’t applied to become a tiger trainer at the circus. “Because if I’m going to die in the line of duty, like Doug did, I want it to matter.”
Moss-colored eyes welled with unshed tears, hovering on the brink. “Oh, Coop.”
“Filled out a thirty-four-page application, took the drug test, the physical, the polygraph, the interviews—and waited. I’d worked with them on a couple of the president’s visits to Camp David, so the clearance process was expedited. Took five months instead of six.”
Now that he’d gotten into the story, it felt good to keep going. Like he’d snaked a clog out of his soul. “Once they accepted me, I spent ten weeks in Georgia at the Criminal Investigator Training Program. Then it was back to D.C. for seventeen weeks of the Special Agent Training Course.”
Darcy dabbed at her eyes. “Wow. I thought researching my dissertation took a long time. This was hard core.”
He though back to the blood blisters all over his legs from the rubber bullets. The aching muscles, bruised ribs, the burn in his throat from learning to identify the smell of mustard gas. The day the instructor told them they were meat shields for their protectee. Learning to intentionally step into the path of a bullet. Hard core was a walk in the park compared to Special Agent training. It demanded everything from you, physically and mentally, pushed you to the breaking point, then demanded ten percent more. But complaining about it would just make him look weak.
“Yeah, but at least I got to shower every day. You’re the one who was stuck in the desert without running water for months, right? Everybody’s got issues.”
Darcy set down her drink and gripped the edge of the bench. The move pushed the loose neckline of her dress even lower. Low enough that he guessed she’d left her bra at home. It revealed the shadowy, enticing valley between her breasts. That was enough to jack him up out of the depths of his pity party. No matter how shitty his life was right now, hanging out at sunset with a sexy, smart woman ranked high on the life-is-good scale.
“So, should I be saluting you, Special Agent Hudson? Are you here to celebrate getting your badge?”
Coop felt like she’d just cut his emotional bungee cord with that question. Back he plummeted into the dark place he’d wallowed for the past few days. “Not by a long shot. They released me from training two days before graduation. My knee, the one I hurt trying to cover Doug, is never going to be a hundred percent. Even though I’m at ninety-eight percent. The docs cleared me for duty. But that’s not good enough for the Secret Service.”
Since he didn’t want to see the mixture of pity and embarrassment guaranteed to wash across her face, he turned back to the bay. The setting sun spread pink and purple streaks across the sky. A dull, gray pall hung over the water. The bulbous head of a jellyfish broke the surface.
Darcy’s arms encircled his waist. Coop jerked in surprise, then relaxed into the loose embrace. An empathetic hug had not been on his list of expected reactions. In fact, he’d kind of expected her to walk away from his worthless, sorry ass. Instead, she pressed her chest into his back, cheek pillowed on his shoulder. It soothed him like aloe on a bad sunburn. Not registering any judgment from her soothed him even more.
“Coop, I don’t know what to say.”
Now that, he had expected. “Join the club. Nobody knows what to say. How to deal with me. That’s why my family sent me out here to our beach house. Give me some time and space to get my head together.”
“That could take a while. How together was your head before all of this?”
The teasing jab, delivered while she still hugged him, gave him a dose of normalcy his family didn’t. They all walked on eggshells when they spoke to him. It was about time someone yanked his chain. Coop tugged on her arm until she moved between him and the rail.
“Maybe I don’t need space after all. Maybe what I really need is someone to share my space.” He caged her in with his arms. The scent of lemons and vanilla floated off her waves of hair. Coop buried his nose and took a good whiff. Now he wanted to smell that on her everywhere.
Darcy arched her neck, giving him better access. She flattened her palms against his chest. “Are you asking me to move in with you? Because I think we should at least have dinner before making that sort of commitment.”
“Let’s start small.” Coop used his finger to lightly trace the outline of her bottom lip. It teased a full-body shiver out of her. “Let’s try sharing this space right here.” He moved his hand to anchor in her silky, frothy mass of hair. A light tug lifted her chin and widened her eyes. Coop hovered, a breath away from her lips.
His phone rang. The phone he’d almost left at home. But he’d had faith that his sister would spread the word. Yet a tinny rendition of Tina Turner screaming “We Don’t Need Another Hero” blared out of his hip pocket. Definitely a sister. The good thing about personalizing ring tones to all of them was that he immediately knew who to be pissed at. Either something better be on fire, or somebody be in the hospital.
Darcy laughed and ducked her head. “Go on.”
He punched on the speaker. “Cammie, didn’t Candace talk to you? You’re all officially supposed to leave me the hell alone.” Not willing to let the moment be officially shattered, Coop kept his hand at the back of Darcy’s neck, rubbing with his thumb in a slow stroke.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I had to let you know that Bradley’s on his way.”
“On his way where?”
Darcy smiled at him. Then she palmed his biceps and squeezed. If his sister didn’t state the nature of her emergency fast, the phone was going straight into the bay. A willing woman in his arms was the best pick-me-up he’d found yet. A loving but nagging sister, not so much.
“Bradley’s coming to stay with you,” Cammie said.
The hell he was. Not that Coop had anything against his cousin. They’d grown up as close as brothers. But things were going well with Darcy. Assuming he didn’t screw it up, they’d hopefully need an empty house all to themselves in the next few days. Plus, Brad came with a bucket full of his own shit to deal with right now. Whoever came up with this bright idea better not expect any presents from Coop come Christmas. “Sticking all the problem kids in one place, huh? I thought the beach was my private place to mope.”
“You still can. Just do it with Brad. You might cheer each other up. Honestly, I think he’s
as sick of us looking over his shoulder as you are. Heading to the shore was his idea. He should be there in about, oh, twenty minutes, depending on traffic?”
Crap. Just about twenty minutes to sunset. So much for his romantic date. “Thanks for all the advance notice.” He hoped the thick layer of sarcasm frosting his words came through loud and clear.
“We didn’t want to give you a chance to stop him. Look, when Brad came up with the idea, it was the first non-snarly thing out of his mouth in weeks. I didn’t have the heart to make him wait til you sort out your love life. Sorry. Put some clean sheets on the bed, okay? Love you!” Cammie wisely hung up before Coop could begin to let loose his irritation. Guess Brad would get the brunt of it when he arrived.
“So do you really have a beach house here, or is it more of a commune?” Darcy teased.
“Technically it’s a house. But everyone in my extended family uses it as a landing pad from May through October. Without much notice, as you can see.” He scowled at his phone. “It can sleep sixteen, with eight bedrooms. Fourth of July week, we shovel in a few more on air mattresses. My grandparents knocked it together back in the era of cheap land and big families.”
Her petal-soft fingers continued to rhythmically whisper across his upper arm. “Is this unexpected visitor your brother?”
“Cousin. He’s a cop, too.”
“Hmm. Does that mean he’s coming out here to check on you?”
“Nah. I’ve got five sisters who take care of the coddling. Brad’s fiancée dumped him a few months ago. From the way he bites my head off every time we talk, I’d say he’s not dealing with it well. I think the family sent him out here so they wouldn’t have to stare at his sour puss any longer.”
Darcy laughed. “Misery loves company?”
Coop rested his forehead against hers. “I was looking forward to spending more time in your company.”
“Ditto.”
“Sunset here really is something. They play the 1812 Overture right as the sun sinks below the horizon.” He shut his eyes. Again with the stalling. “Sorry, but I have to cut our date short.”
“There are other sunsets.”
To his surprise, she seemed to be taking being ditched in stride. When he added easygoing to being sexy, smart and not shy about sassing him, Darcy appeared to be his dream woman. Maybe Fate had gotten tired of kicking him in the nuts. Or maybe Darcy really was too good to be true. Either way, he wanted the chance to find out. Easing back, Coop draped both arms over her shoulders.
“Look, I can’t let Brad show up to an empty house. I can leave him to fend for himself any other night, but if he’s as upset as Cammie says, I’ve got to get him settled.” Coop closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nose. God, he hated talking about touchy-feely stuff. But he owed Darcy the full truth for walking out on their date like a complete jackass. “He’s like a brother to me. Brad helped me hold it together when Doug died. Even drove me to my PT appointments for six weeks straight. I can’t let him twist in the wind by himself.”
“I’ll admit the concept is somewhat foreign to me, but all in all, I think it’s sweet that your family is so close.”
Her kisses probably tasted a damn sight sweeter. “I’m sorry. Can we rain check? I’d really like to continue right from where we left off.”
Playfully, Darcy patted her chest with both hands. “Gosh, I don’t think I can give you my phone number. There just wasn’t any room in this dress to hide a pen and paper.”
“No complaints,” he growled.
“But you know where to find me. The 139th Street dune crossing, and about two hundred yards toward the ocean.”
She looked so beautiful. It took a heroic act of will to step away. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your drink. I just really have to run.”
“I get it. Honestly, don’t worry.” Darcy sat back down and picked up her glass, frosted with dripping condensation. “I’m anticipating your being worth the wait.”
“Know what the Secret Service motto is? Worthy of Trust and Confidence. The past nine months can’t have been a total waste, right? Let me assure you, I am definitely worthy of your confidence when it comes to kissing.” He hoped she could see the banked lust burning in his eyes. And not just think it was a reflection of the setting sun.
“Kiss first. Then I’ll decide if you’re worthy of a badge.”
Yeah. It’d be hard not to fall hard and fast for this woman. But with his entire life up in the air, how did a beach fling fit into the picture? Coop looked over his shoulder at Darcy as he strode down the pier. If necessary, he’d lock Brad outside on the balcony overnight to get alone time with Darcy. Brad preferred to sleep with his gun over a woman right now, anyway. Down on the entire female species, Brad probably wouldn’t want to chance hearing any sounds of lovemaking. And there would be screams and sighs and whimpers, no doubt about it. Coop intended to make Darcy very, very sure he’d been worth the wait.
Chapter Five
“I really appreciate you coming with me tonight,” Trina said as she dodged another swarm of shrieking children. None of them topped three feet. All of them were armed with miniature golf clubs. Watching them run and swing with reckless abandon, Darcy wished she still had her full-body pads from her days as goalie on the high school lacrosse team. Who knew mini-golf was a contact sport?
“Thanks to a lightning fast mini-date, I had the free time. But honestly, if I’d known there was even a chance you planned to spend the evening stalking your suspect, I would’ve called off the date myself.”
“Why?” Trina lifted her camera. She’d announced, amidst flinging clothes out of her suitcase, that her cover for the night was to be a vacationing tourist. Darcy didn’t have the heart to point out that she actually was on vacation. So Trina had donned a floppy brimmed hat—even though the sun had set an hour ago—an Ocean City oversized tee, and flip flops. In other words, she looked pretty normal.
The camera was her crowning touch. There were certainly enough kitschy sights around to fill a memory card. Mini-golf courses here were apparently famous for over-the-top themes. On the way in she’d driven past a three-story Mayan temple replica, complete with gushing water and, for no reason Darcy could think of, a fire-breathing dragon on top standing guard. Another had life-size fiberglass dinosaurs, teeth ferociously bared, at every hole. Currently they were hiding at the edge of a cave topped with a Red Baron-esque crashed plane. A steady stream of giggling teenagers posed at the lagoon beneath. Trina, however, used her camera to zoom in on Ivan, atop the suspension bridge. Not a bad idea at all. Far less obvious than the binoculars Daphne had convinced her to leave on the coffee table.
“Safety in numbers, like you said.”
“Aww, you’re worried about me.” Trina’s pleased grin lit up her face.
“A little.”
Already tonight they’d trailed Ivan to Viking Golf, just across the border in Delaware. Well, not so much trailed, but practically run into while on a beer run. Trina insisted they walk the six blocks north to take advantage of Delaware’s tax-free status. The walk turned out to be worth it—for Trina—once they’d glimpsed him putting through the legs of a tall horse statue and its fully armored Viking warrior. Trina all but ran home to assemble her version of an appropriate spy outfit, leaving Darcy to pay and lug home their drinks. They’d gone back to catch him just as he left the course. With the wide, heavily trafficked Coastal Highway between them and their quarry, it was easy to follow him unobtrusively to the next one.
“Does this concern for my well-being mean you’re on board with my Russian pimp theory?” Trina asked.
“No. Not even if he walked out in a white fedora with a purple feather.”
“Ooh, that would be a great look for me, though.” Trina let the camera fall back to her chest. She pulled out her phone and typed in a note. He
r apprenticeship with a fashion designer only lasted half a year. The high-pressured atmosphere of that world hadn’t been a good fit. But Trina had discovered a natural talent on the sewing machine. Whenever an idea came to her, she jotted it down and a few weeks later would have a new outfit to wear. “With purple leather pants, and maybe a white lace halter. What do you think?”
Darcy elbowed her in the side. “I think your guy’s on the move.”
Ivan, still in his white shorts topped with a faded OC tank top stretched to its limit across his belly, was easy to spot. He gave his now-signature double-handed squeeze to the ass of a skinny girl young enough to be his granddaughter. Only the sticky humidity of the night kept Darcy from shivering in disgust at his skeeziness as she watched. The circle of girls around him opened, and he waddled toward the exit.
Trina rushed forward all of two feet to peer around a crepe myrtle awash in pink blooms. “Let’s wait for him to hit the street, so we can figure out which way he’s headed. Then we’ll run for it.”
Great. Already Darcy’s hair clung to her damp neck. A thunderstorm must be rolling in, because it felt like the air had been soaking in wet paper towels. Running in her flip-flops sounded just peachy. She left the cave and started down the pebbled path. The smell of chlorine assaulted them as they crossed in front of a too-blue waterfall. “Running isn’t very stealthy, Trina. Better to play it casual.”
“Oh. You’re right. Well, come on then, we’ve got to catch up.” It didn’t take much hustling to get close to Ivan. Probably due to his girth, he trundled down the sidewalk about as fast as a sedated turtle.
“So if you don’t think he’s a pimp, why’d you come with me? Couldn’t stand to pout over Coop all by your lonesome?” Trina asked in a saccharine, sing-song voice.
“First of all, I’m not pouting.” Well, not much. Not that she’d admit to, anyway. “Secondly, Coop didn’t stand me up. I’m sure I’ll see him tomorrow, and we’ll give it another go.” The way the sparks had flown between the two of them, Darcy worried they were responsible for all the static electricity in the air tonight. Coop had a valid reason for cutting the night short. She respected his sense of responsibility. But why oh why couldn’t that call have come five minutes later? After a kiss that showed all the potential of being one heck of a brain scrambler?
Love at High Tide Page 5