undercovertrouble_341-1e1.htm

by Undercover Trouble (Wings) (lit)

  ~ * ~

  "Would you like a table overlooking the harbor?" the hostess asked. "I have one just vacated."

  "Yes, please."

  As Jen looked around the busy establishment, she smiled and thought, this is more my style than the bar. She picked up the menu, then glanced down at her clothes, laughing out loud. Tonight she had spruced herself up and worn a dark blue, three-quarter-length denim skirt slit up the side, topped with a white silk blouse. Then she realized she had on the same dangly earrings she’d worn to the bar. What a difference clothes made. The tramp she’d posed as could be relegated to the back of her memory, but the smell of the smoky haze, the blast of horrid music, and the mingling of sweaty bodies all lingered to the point she could taste that rowdy atmosphere. Would it ever go away? And Mitch. What would be the after-effects of her encounter with him in the loft? That, she didn’t want to forget. Even though she’d only been part of his scheme to nail the gang, he’d left an indelible imprint in the part of her that was most secret--her emotions. In the future she’d draw on that blessing to frighten away whatever it was that terrified her at times.

  The waitress arrived and filled her water glass. "Are you ready to order?"

  "She’s waiting for someone, give her a few minutes." The voice boomed from behind her!

  Twelve

  The sensuous feel of Mitch’s hands on her shoulders ricocheted down Jen’s arms.

  "Hello, Mitch." Jen didn’t turn, but steadied her nerves by sipping from her water glass. Her stomach jostled as if a dozen jackrabbits played hopscotch inside.

  "Mind if I sit down until your companion joins you?"

  "My companion?"

  "Er... the one you must be waiting for... all dressed up like that."

  "What’s wrong with how I’m dressed--not slutty enough for you?"

  Her temper had sneaked out from under her control. She’d hoped that returning to the shelter had curbed the speed at which she bristled. She should have known better. There’d been no closure.

  Mitch moved around the table and slid into the chair opposite. Her irritation with his deception increased when she met a shaved, solemn face, his gaze an icy mask. A gaze that quickly took in the low neckline and earrings, then softened. "You look nice." His face reddened.

  "You’ve shaved, I see."

  "This is the real me--not grimy, not uncouth, not happy."

  She suppressed the smart-ass words that trembled on her lips. The smooth paleness of his jaws added a striking distinctness to his face and highlighted the blue intensity in his eyes. Could his jealousy be sneaking out? "Why not happy?"

  He scowled. "You should be home resting after the upsetting day you’ve had, not chasing around on a date."

  "I might say the same about you, Mitch. Are you here because you’re meeting someone? It’s a long way for you to come for a meal." She spread the napkin on her lap and fiddled with the corners.

  "Guys are different. We can handle more. I’m here on my own. Where is he?" His stare penetrated so deep she thought she’d burn up with the heat.

  "Who said it was a date? It could be a girlfriend, you know."

  He looked kind of sheepish. "Oh. Where is she?"

  "I didn’t say it was a girlfriend, I just said it could be one."

  His mouth tightened, sending one of her heartbeats into an unprecedented leap. Yep. He was jealous... an interesting development.

  The waitress returned. "Would you like to order now?"

  "She’s not ready, yet." The waitress shrugged and left to clear a table nearby.

  "That was rude of you, Mitch. Maybe I wanted an appetizer."

  "Want me to call her back?"

  "No. How come you’re here? You look bushed."

  "I am, but I... ah... had some unfinished business."

  "Such as?"

  "Reports to fill out... that kind of stuff." He toyed with the fork in front of him, then glanced out at the harbor.

  Jen thought he looked much neater than his former self, but something was missing and she studied him to figure out what. She put her finger on it. He’d lost the sparkle in his eyes. The one that showed her how he enjoyed deliberately egging her on. A haircut would do wonders for him, but would it alter his personality even more? Silly as it seemed, she liked the rough edge he’d presented. She realized for the first time that she needed his brusque confidence to strengthen her nerve and the lack of it now made her work harder at holding her own. But hold it she would, even though her heart was thumping like a jumping jack. "Contrary to what you think, I’m here alone. I like to dress up when I treat myself." She debated whether to tell him she knew from the computer contact with Nightspook how he misunderstood her presence here--but no, let him suffer. It could be fun and a lifeline worth keeping. And maybe she should still continue a contact with him when he’d moved on to other missions. She grinned at the thought.

  "What’s so funny?"

  "Nothing. Why not join me for dinner?" The clatter of dishes and the dull din of voices faded away. She placed her attention squarely on him.

  He looked around the crowded room. "Okay, if you’re sure it’s not a problem. So how do you like the whiskers gone?"

  "Hmm. I think I miss them. They gave you a certain wild man appeal. One that made you look like a grizzly with a sweet side."

  "I’m getting my hair cut tomorrow. Look more civilized then." He actually blushed again.

  The waitress interrupted their conversation. "Are you ready to order now?"

  Jen looked up. The waitress winked. An unexpected flush burst into Jen’s face as she experienced an alliance of sorts with the older woman. She had to admit Mitch was devilishly handsome. How could she stay annoyed? "I’d like the scallops with mashed potatoes and salad, please."

  "I’ll have that too, but make mine with fries."

  "Anything to drink, folks?"

  "What about it Jen, care for a beer?"

  "No, thanks, just ice water now."

  "Make mine the same."

  When the waitress nodded and left, Jen spoke first. "So where do you go from here, Mitch?"

  "I’m a detective, and I’ll start back at that next week. I’m taking a few days leave."

  "You’ll be moving from the lake?"

  "Yes. I have to find a new apartment. I’ll get one overlooking the harbor if I can, but it won’t be as relaxing. I’d like to buy the cottage, but it isn’t for sale. Not thinking about selling yours are you?"

  "I might consider it if I decide to leave the province. I’ll let you know."

  He quieted a moment and concentrated on straightening his silverware, even though it was perfectly placed. "Why would you go? You have a job here."

  "I need a change."

  "Are you considering running from your problems?"

  "No!" Jen looked across the water. The sun’s last vestiges of color splashed on a glass-like calm and resembled one of the pictures on the walls in her office. She felt a cold chill.

  "What’s wrong?"

  "Huh?"

  "You shivered."

  "Oh." She sighed. "It’s the same old puzzle. Certain scenes bring unpleasant flashes. If I knew why, I could understand what’s going on." She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands, unaware she was leaning closer to him.

  Mitch didn’t comment and for a short time they were distracted by a container ship plying the harbor to the deepwater dockside. The atmosphere between them was no longer tense. They were biding their time and enjoying the companionship. In the ship’s wake, numerous small pleasure craft along with the harbor ferry navigated the water. Just as they were trying to navigate their own turbulent lives.

  Mitch broke their silence this time. "Jen, have you ever thought about seeing someone professionally?"

  "A psychiatrist? No! The weird sensations don’t happen often." The instant constriction in her breath was an irritation she didn’t need. "I get along fine. I’m independent and--"

  "But you aren’t ge
tting along well. Don’t you see?" Mitch scanned the surroundings as though looking for the right words; he gentled his tone. "You can’t go back to work. You can’t function like you want. You--"

  "Shh... the waitress is bringing our dinners." She drew away from Mitch. Once the dinner plates were served, she turned back to him. "You’re wrong. I can go back to work. In fact I was just thinking I’d stop by the shelter and tell Mary I’ll return tomorrow."

  "Did you bring your car?"

  "No, I walked here."

  Mitch’s eyes narrowed. "Then why don’t I drive you over after dinner?"

  There was no escaping his persistence. He had the market cornered on stubbornness. Jen struggled to maintain her composure. She forked a large scallop, examined it, then popped it into her mouth. "Sure, why not? These scallops are delicious."

  He’d ruined her meal with his damned prodding. Obviously his power over her had nothing to do with his grungy biker image and had everything to do with his forceful personality. Mitch was right and it hurt. He was telling her she had to get on with her life. He even overwhelmed her natural urge to rebel. She had to face reality and took a deep shuddering breath. "Perhaps I should see someone. Is there anyone you could recommend?" She noticed he stopped chewing, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his muscles tensed.

  "I’ve already asked someone to see you. She’s one of the psychiatrists the department calls on to handle trauma cases. I think you’ll like her, Jen. Will you give her a chance?"

  He was taking a bit too much for granted, and she didn’t appreciate his intrusive manner. "Let’s not get pushy. I’ll go back to work and see how I do, first. I may be over this now."

  "Is this what you’ve always done? Push off anyone that’s tried to help?"

  "No one’s ever tried to help, Mitch, but truthfully, I don’t think I ever asked. My prickly disposition often got me in trouble, yet nobody looked deeper." She tried listening to the music, but the fast-paced hard rock was not to her liking. Being here was not to her liking either. He had ruined her enjoyment, and she had spoiled his. She could read the disappointment in his eyes. She disappointed herself. They ate in silence and passed on dessert, but just when she was ready to leave he motioned to the waitress for another refill of their coffee.

  "Why, Jen?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why are you fighting me?"

  "You’re being bossy. It isn’t even what you say--it’s your attitude, Mitch." She sipped from her mug. He added sugar to his. A lot of sugar.

  "It’s due to the fact I care. I’ve cared from the first minute I saw you. Okay, I better retract that, not the first minute but soon after."

  She choked. Spatters of coffee from her mug hit the table forcing her to grab a paper napkin to soak it up.

  "You didn’t burn yourself, did you?" She noted the concern in his voice.

  "No." Her hands shook; her mind shied away. She didn’t want him pretending to care. Not when she knew she’d been nothing but a duty to him. And she didn’t want to care back, but she knew she did. "I need to get out of here." She opened her purse.

  "I’ll get the bill, so put your money away. I haven’t treated a lady in a long time."

  She smiled through eyes wet with unshed tears. "I wonder how Spooky is doing?"

  "Want to go see? I noticed they had evening hours listed on the door."

  "I’d love to." She touched his arm. "Thanks, Mitch. Your help means a lot." The turbulence had passed. Again.

  Spooky was all wags and yips when they arrived at the front of his cage. Mitch opened the door and Jen eased him into her arms trying to calm his excitement before he did further damage to his injury. He showed his delight by licking her chin and this encouraged her hope that he would soon be back to his usual boisterous self.

  They played with the pup for a while, then she carefully put him back in his cage. Spooky’s forlorn look followed them to the door. Jen gritted her teeth. "Okay, Mitch, I want to stop at the shelter now."

  "Let’s go."

  When they drove to the curb, Jen noticed a rusty gray half-ton with a crew cab parked on the street. "Wonder what that truck’s doing here?"

  "Probably making a delivery next door."

  "But the man is just sitting there."

  "He’s waiting for someone." Mitch concentrated on her, stretched his arm along the back of the seat in her direction, and tapped her on the shoulder. "You still want to go inside?"

  "Of course. I told you I was ready for this."

  "Then no more delays."

  ~ * ~

  The truck’s driver slurped the last dregs of his beer and tossed the can into the back seat.

  The transition house was well lit and several large moths hovered around the veranda light. Mitch and Jen entered a scene of barely controlled chaos. Mary, red-faced from scurrying around, met them in the foyer. "Oh, Jennifer, I’m so glad you came over. A new family just got here a few minutes ago."

  A mother and her two children huddled on the settee in the corner. The sobbing younger child refused to be comforted, while the stony-faced teenager kept one arm around her mom’s neck as if she were afraid they’d lose contact forever.

  Mary whispered, "We’re in a bad way. Another family arrived a few minutes before this one and they are upstairs in the playroom. I have to get them all settled and fill out reports. Can you man the desk down here until I’m done? Julie’s still out sick and the new girl we took on doesn’t know the ropes, yet."

  "It’s okay, Mary, I can stay." She looked up at Mitch. "Mitch, you can go."

  "Still giving directions aren’t you?" His mouth tightened. "I guess when you work in a place like this you have to be good at it. Mind if I hang around a bit, Jen? I’ll stay out of the way."

  "Well... oh, all right."

  Mary gathered up the family and ushered them upstairs. The mother looked back past them to the door, dread in her eyes.

  Mitch groaned. "That’s got to be nerve-racking to deal with, especially at night."

  "It is, but after each group is settled and started on a new life, it’s rewarding to think we’ve helped. You have no idea how much this job means to me--at least it did until the incident. Come into my office and have a seat."

  ~ * ~

  While Jen sifted through papers on top of her desk, Mitch sat on the sofa set against the wall, off to the side of her office door. He scanned the room, trying to get the feel of the place. His eyes landed on the picture of the harbor. The scene looked very much like the view from the restaurant window. "I don’t hear that kid crying anymore."

  Jen looked up and smiled. "It doesn’t take long to get them interested in the toys we have up there. We had a good response with our toy drive last month." She stared at him for a minute. "You know, Mitch, you’re looking awfully tired. You’ve had a long day. You could go to my apartment and snooze."

  "You’re right, I am whacked. It’s a long drive back to the lake."

  "I meant a nap, not spend the night."

  "Forget it, I’ll go home."

  "Now you make me feel guilty. I act like a prude at times. Okay you can stay there; the couch is a hide-away. I could be here all night."

  The doorbell interrupted. The sound, as always, echoed through the lower floor, but it was the length of the ring that grated on Mitch’s nerves. The door’s windowpane showed a male figure hunched outside. Jen shook her head, indicating she wasn’t going to answer. Mitch could see the visitor’s scowl through the hinged crack of the door. He heard the string of oaths and stood, but remained in place, watching. "Don’t let on I’m here."

  Jen stayed at her desk. She never took her eyes off the front door. The stranger switched his tactic and pounded with his fist. The door rattled from the force, but didn’t give way. All suddenly went quiet. Dead quiet. Jen went back to her papers. "He must have given up and left."

  Mitch tiptoed to the entry and looked out. "No sign of him here, but that old wreck of a truck is still outside." He studied the front yard.
His hand grabbed the doorknob just as a chair from the veranda crashed through Jen’s office window. A moment later the man dived through the glass landing on his shoulder; the smell of liquor accompanied him. Mitch raced past her desk, but the intruder gathered himself together and tackled Mitch, toppling him onto the desk, then to the floor.

  Jen pushed the buzzer and ran near Mitch, who was trying his best to shove the assailant off. She screamed, "The police are coming!"

  The man backed off and stood up. "I don’t want no trouble. I want my kids." His wide-legged stance and glazed eyes lasted mere seconds before he turned and started for her. But it was long enough for Mitch to get to his feet. In that instant, Mitch saw Jen’s danger and plowed into the intruder sending him away from her; both of them crashed against the wall. The picture of the harbor tumbled to the floor, shattering more glass on the hardwood. The two men wrestled and rolled bringing their tangled bodies close to hers. Sirens roared to a stop outside. Jen couldn’t get past them to open the door. She grabbed the phone from her desk and smashed it over the intruder’s head. It stunned him. Blood trickled down his forehead and she backed to the wall at the gruesome sight. Her arms splayed to brace herself to keep from collapsing.

  ~ * ~

  Mitch yanked the man’s arms behind his back. Already his muscles could feel the effects of the strenuous action, but at least he didn’t have a sore head to go with it. Jen twisted by and let the police in the door. As Mitch held the man fast, he glanced at her. Pale as a ghost, she looked like she’d seen one. Her eyes stayed entirely on the drunk as the police handcuffed him and pulled him up. The unwelcome guest swore, then bellowed for his wife. As he was led out the door, he looked at his family bunched with Mary on the second floor landing. "I’m sorry," he sobbed. "I need help to stop drinking."

  The sober-faced teen calmly wrapped her arm around her mother, and, taking the child by the hand, steered them back to the playroom. As if she’d been through this before.