Agent in Training

by Jerri Drennen

  Three years ago he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and her world had come crashing down around her. He was all she had left; she’d lost her mother when she was fourteen.

  Her dad, Ben Templar, had been a brilliant man until the disease struck him at age sixty. At that time he had been a professor of Literature. A man with a zest for life and a love of learning. She still couldn’t believe he’d been debilitated to the point he couldn’t recognize the written word any longer. He struggled to do the simplest of tasks. His beloved authors––Hawthorne, Keats, Shelley––were long-lost memories for him now.

  Most of the time he recognized Shiloh, though on his worst days he thought she was her mother. But once in a while she saw a glimmer of the man he’d been, the one she so admired and loved.

  She lived for those days.

  His brown eyes fluttered open, filled with confusion, then panic.

  “Daddy, it’s me, Shiloh.” She hoped her voice would relieve his fears.

  His gaze darted around the room. Terror filled his eyes. This was going to be a bad day—the kind of one she dreaded, and would later cry about.

  “It’s okay, Daddy. I’m here.” She grabbed his hand and held it tight, even when he tried to pull free.

  Once the initial shock of his diagnosis had worn off, she’d learned as much as she could about his disease. She knew a person with Alzheimer’s did much better in familiar surroundings. Change made them nervous, more excitable, and it was best to give them as much structure as possible. But with her move from Seattle to Washington DC, Shiloh couldn’t leave him behind, though now she felt guilty that she hadn’t. It had been a purely selfish act on her part to bring him along. She wanted him close, but he’d been happy in Seattle, or at least as happy as a man in confinement could be.

  “Daddy, Mrs. Wilson said you wouldn’t eat anything today. Are you feeling okay?”

  His hollow eyes narrowed. “I did eat.”

  “No, Daddy. You ate yesterday. You have to eat every day.”

  He turned toward her, his expression fierce. “I don’t want to eat today. Now leave me alone. You haven’t come to see me in a long time. I don’t want you here.”

  Shiloh took in a deep breath. “Daddy, it’s only been two days. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to get settled into my new job. I told you about that, right?”

  “No, you’ve been gone for years, Karen. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  Shiloh’s stomach clenched. He thought she was her mother again. “No, Daddy. I’m your daughter––not Momma.”

  “Go away,” he bellowed, shoving her off the edge of the bed.

  Shiloh caught herself before she fell to the floor.

  An older, heavyset nurse came running in from the hallway. “Is there a problem?”

  With a look of contempt, he jabbed a finger at Shiloh. “I want her to go away.”

  Tears filled Shiloh’s eyes at the hatred she saw in the depths of his gaze.

  “Now, you really don’t mean that, Mr. Templar.”

  He shook his head. “Yes, I do. I want her to leave.”

  “Maybe you’d better go, Ms. Templar.”

  The nurse led her out into the hall and stopped by the nurses’ station to speak to her. “He’s been really bad all day. Screaming about his wife never coming to see him. He’ll be better tomorrow, you’ll see.”

  Wiping at her eyes, Shiloh tried to hold back the full-fledged sobs threatening to erupt. He’d never been that sharp with her. His anger terrified her. Had she made a mistake by taking this job and moving them across the country? Was her father declining more rapidly because of her bad choices?

  The nurse touched her shoulder. “Go home. I’ll call you if there’s any change.”

  Shiloh shrugged, feeling defeated. “All right.” At this point what else could she do?

  She blew out a breath and started for the elevator.

  What was next for her?

  Guilt filled her as she left Oak Haven. Maybe she should resign from her new post and go back to Seattle—back to a life where her father had seemed happier?

  Nick pushed the cup away, tired of being treated like an invalid. “If I want a drink, I’ll get it myself, Hank.”

  “I feel bad, Nick.” Hank hung his head. “If I hadn’t panicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

  Nick smiled weakly at him. “It wasn’t your fault. I should have fired first and asked questions later. Besides, it’s nothing. A little scratch.”

  “Yeah, right. You lost your appendix.”

  “Hell, I didn’t need it. What do they do, anyway?”

  Hank scratched his chin. “I believe they filter toxins from our bodies.”

  Nick gave a lopsided grin. “No toxins here. I’ll be fine.” He shifted… and flinched with pain. Damn. For a little appendix, it sure as hell hurt to be without it. “You know, this could look good on my resume. Shot in the line of duty. They give medals for that stuff, don’t they?”

  “This guy could’ve killed you. Think about that, Nick?”

  “I will. Now get out of here.” Nick pulled himself farther up on the pillow. “Don’t you have a pretty young secretary you could be scoring with, instead of hanging out here and torturing me? If our roles were reversed, you can bet I’d choose getting some action over babysitting a partner.”

  Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  Nick grinned wickedly. “We have a winner. Yes. Get lost. As soon as you leave, I can call a nurse in here and ask for a sponge bath. Maybe you and I can both get lucky.”

  Hank shook his head, then grabbed his coat off the chair, and headed for the door. “One of these days that sense of humor of yours is going to cost you, Nick. Life isn’t always fun and games, you know.”

  “True, but think of the alternative. Would you rather me be like Director Templar? Hell, I don’t know how that woman can walk with that stick up her ass. Now go, before I ask you to help me with my bedpan.”

  Hank grimaced. “I’m outta here.”

  After Hank was gone, Nick closed his eyes, tired of trying to act tough. His side hurt like hell and he needed a painkiller.

  He grabbed the nurses’ call button and pressed hard.

  “What do you need, Nick?” his nurse asked.

  “I need something for pain. Could you bring me enough to take down, say, a small elephant?”

  “Okay, Nick. I’ll bring you something to take the edge off.”

  “Now. And I need more than just an edge taken off. I need a top, a bottom, and everything in between.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  A few minutes later, his nurse, Carol walked in with a smile on her face and a syringe in her hand. "This should help."

  Nick watched her insert the needle into his IV and waited. The drug hit almost immediately, and made him feel like he was floating on a cloud of cotton with a blond angel hovering above him.

  “Wow, that’s great. Hey, Carol?”

  “Yes?” She leaned in and adjusted his pillows.

  Mustering a cockeyed grin, he asked, “Could I have a sponge bath?”

  Her amber eyes sparkled with amusement. “If you’d like.”

  “Yeah, that would be great.” Nick’s eyelids grew heavy.

  “Would you like me to wash you all over?”

  Nick was confused. Why was she talking so slow?

  “Oh—yeah,” he said, then yawned.

  He closed his eyes when they grew too heavy to keep open.

  Shiloh peeked inside the door of Nick’s hospital room door. He lay on his back, asleep. She walked in and closed the door quietly behind her.

  As she sat in the chair next to Nick’s bed, guilt filled her for assigning him to the sewage plant detail in the first place. He could have been killed.

  She’d gotten home from Oak Haven to find a message on her machine informing her that Agent Trent had been shot and was recovering in hospital. Nicholas had managed to shoot the perpetrator, who was
also in the hospital––in serious condition and under heavy guard. A homemade pipe bomb had been found at the scene—a device with enough plastic explosives to cause a lot of damage to the facility.

  How was she going to let Trent go now? He and Hank Dawson were literally heroes. Nicholas would probably receive a commendation for his bravery.

  She glanced at him, noting his pale complexion. He looked so young and innocent. Just a baby really… though one with a wicked tongue. He thought he was something special, the way he strutted around in his ass-ripped jeans and screw-you attitude. Clearly a free spirit. Something she’d never been.

  Shiloh took a moment to study his features. His lashes were long, blond, yet tipped in a slightly darker shade. His nose was quite regal. She knew his eyes were a soft blue that darkened when he was angry.

  And his mouth.

  Shiloh swallowed hard, and followed the line of his lips with her eyes. Full. Kissable.

  Would his tongue be as sharp and probing in passion as it was with his lashing wit? He fascinated her, though she wasn’t going to analyze why. She’d be too ashamed to admit that a man she usually couldn’t stand to be in the same room with, excited her physically as he slept.

  She snorted at the thought and her hands flew to her mouth when his eyes fluttered open. She peered around for a place to hide, but found herself stuck.

  He blinked, then grinned sheepishly. “If it isn’t old Iron Maiden herself, come to kick me while I’m down.”

  Shiloh was determined not to provoke him or be provoked by him. After all, he’d just taken a bullet. He was in no shape to cross swords with her.

  “Nicholas, I came by to see how you were feeling.”

  “Real good. They gave me something for the pain and it makes me all fuzzy inside. You know the feeling like right after you’ve just had great sex and you’re about to fall asleep?”

  Shiloh’s face heated as she imagined Nicholas Trent naked, making love to some young, blond beach bunny. Her stomach clenched at the idea.

  “Oh, right. You’re the Ice Princess. I’m sure you don’t know that feeling,” he continued, sending her knotted stomach into her throat.

  Is that what he thought? She never had sex? Well, that was—almost true. Damn it. It had been forever since she’d had a sexual relationship with anything other than her vibrator. But sex for her had never been like Nicholas spoke of. All warm and fuzzy. More like cold and itchy. And totally unfulfilling.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you why you’re so frigid.” His expression turned serious. “You know what your problem is?”

  “No, what’s my problem?” Shiloh couldn’t believe he’d have the nerve to call her frigid or that she’d have the nerve to ask.

  “You just need a good lay.” He winced when he shifted onto his side. “And I’d be more than happy to help you out there. For the good of national security and all.”

  Shiloh’s jaw dropped. Had he just offered to screw her for the sake of the DNS? The nerve of the man. If she didn’t know he was drugged right now, she’d slap his face.

  “Thank you for the generous offer, but I do have certain standards. You just don’t fit the bill.”

  “Suit yourself. It’s an open invitation though, if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t, but thanks anyway. I have to go now.”

  Shiloh rose, but Nick’s grip on her arm stopped her. “Could you come closer? I need to ask you something.”

  She looked at him, questioning the wisdom of that.

  “Please.”

  Shiloh leaned in toward him.

  “Could I have a goodnight kiss? I can’t sleep without one.”

  Before she could say no, his hand slid up behind her neck and drew her down slowly, then his lips gently touched hers, a soft caress that completely knocked her off her feet. His warm lips moved over hers and caused a shiver of intense pleasure to run wildly up her backbone.

  His tongue traced the crease of her mouth, just before it plunged inside, wreaking havoc on her.

  His tongue played with hers––her stomach tightened in response.

  She balled her fists against his chest as she fought the urge to give in to the incredible sensation of his kiss.

  When his lips finally left hers, she was dazed.

  Righting herself, Shiloh turned around and blew out a breath. She picked up her coat and left, almost colliding with the door. In the hallway she glanced back at the bed to find Nick already asleep.

  Shiloh had no idea why she’d had such a reaction to his kiss, but she was more determined than ever to steer clear of Nicholas Trent––and his magic lips.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nicholas eased into his jeans, relieved he was finally getting out of the hospital. He was ready to go home and get some well-needed rest. How anyone could get better in a place like this was a mystery. The only sleep he’d gotten had been filled with dreams—strange, almost erotic images of the Ice Princess. Like she’d really come see him.

  No. She’d avoided him like a surfer would a tidal wave. Hell, it had to be a dream.

  And the only good part about the dream had been her kiss, with warm, yielding lips that surprised him. Hot and completely the opposite of what he knew her to be.

  His boss’ lips were probably as cold as her heart.

  Careful not to stretch too much, Nick slipped on his shirt. He slowly buttoned it, and looked at the clock on the wall. What time did Hank plan to pick him up? His discharge papers were already signed. All he had to do was get someone to take him home. His mother had wanted to come in from California when she’d heard about his injury, but he’d told her his wound was superficial in nature and he was fine. The last thing he needed was her hovering over him.

  Charlotte Trent had always been a good parent, but now he found her a little too over-protective and controlling for his taste. And knowing why still didn’t make it any easier to stomach. She feared he’d die on the job as her husband had, and if she knew how close Nick had come to manifesting that fear earlier that week, she’d insist he quit.

  She’d also expect him to return to the California to live closer to her. Back to the surfing and the nightlife, the meaningless existence he’d had before he joined DNS. He didn’t want that. Not anymore. Nick knew it was time to grow up and be an adult. He was determined to make his father proud, even if Phillip Trent wasn’t around to see it.

  The hospital room door opened, and Hank strolled in with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

  Nick stepped into his flip-flops. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry about that. Sandy forgot to set her alarm.”

  Nick grinned. “Well, no wonder you’re smiling. Got lucky, did you?”

  Hank arched an eyebrow. “Lucky isn’t the word for what I got. Man, I never dreamed it could be that good. The woman is some kind of acrobat.”

  Nick laughed, then flinched and grabbed his side. “Shit, don’t make me laugh. It hurts like hell.”

  Hank shrugged. “Sorry. Are you ready?”

  “More than ready. Let’s go, and on the way to my apartment I expect you to tell me all about your adventures at this so-called circus. I want a blow-by-blow of every cartwheel, roll, and tight wire act.”

  “You know, Nick." Hank shook his head. "A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  “I don’t want to hear about the kissing, just everything else.”

  They both laughed. Nick pulled his stitches again and grimaced. A nurse rolled a wheelchair in and patted the seat. “We ready to go?”

  Nick rolled his eyes at Hank and sat down in the chair. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Shiloh lay on her back, dumbbell bench-pressing forty-pound weights. She’d been on edge all day and had come down to the weight room to burn off some excess energy.

  Nicholas Trent’s kiss three days earlier still played over in her mind. She’d never experienced a total brain-freeze like that before. Her common sense flew the coop when their lips met, and her breasts still tingled f
rom the experience. He had to have some kind of special knowledge about kissing, because she couldn’t get the darn thing out of her head. She could still taste him—could still feel the heat of his tongue on hers.

  She shivered at the thought.

  “You cold, Director?” Gary Freeman stood over her, his eyes focused on her chest.

  “No, why?” Shiloh glanced down at where his attention lingered and saw the imprint of her hardened nipples jutting against her gray T-shirt. Damn Nicholas Trent and his expert kisses.

  “Don’t you have a job to save, Freeman?” She sneered at the man, angry he was checking her out to begin with. He literally gave her the creeps; he wasn’t the first person to do that, unfortunately.

  Freeman’s hazel eyes narrowed. He mumbled something under his breath and stalked off.

  She smiled, lifted the barbell, determined never to think of Nicholas Trent’s lips again.

  After she’d showered, she rode the elevator up to the eighth floor and walked down the hall to her office. It was quiet this time of night and she knew that working alone up here, she could get some much-needed work done. Clear away a few files.

  She opened her office door and her heel caught on a large manila envelope lying on the carpet. She picked it up and turned it over. There wasn’t anything on the outside. No mailing address. Nothing.

  With mild interest, she tore it open and stopped dead.

  Her hands began to shake.

  Inside were pictures. Snapshots of her leaving the office, of her getting into her car, and of her entering her apartment building.

  What is this? She continued to leaf through the stack until she came to the last one.

  A sticky red substance that looked like... blood was smeared over it. Scribbled on the photo of her standing outside DNS were the words ‘You’re dead’ in big, red letters.

  Shiloh inhaled and stared at her red-tipped fingers. Who would send her something like this?

  She swallowed hard, then carried the photos to the desk and threw them on top.

  Shiloh rubbed her fingers together, noting how sticky the substance was. She walked to her adjoining bathroom and quickly turned on the faucet. As red swirled around in the sink, her anger ignited. Whoever was trying to scare her was not going to get away with it––she didn’t frighten easily.