Daddy Defender

by Janie Crouch

  Fawkes didn’t know it, but Damien had already put into motion the next strike against Omega. A more indirect hit this time, against two people in Texas who had helped them with a case last year. The super-spy wall would help point them in the right direction so they didn’t miss it.

  Split their focus yet again.

  Damien nodded at Fawkes. “But I understand your fight is not with civilians. You’ve made that very clear. I’ll make sure Harper focuses on Fitzgerald, not Summer.”

  Damien’s focus would be on her, though.

  Fawkes just rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that Harper is competent enough to kill Fitzgerald anyway.”

  “Don’t worry. I will help him with that. Like I told him, I have a plan. He probably won’t like the end result, but it’s still a plan.”

  “I don’t want him going after Summer Worrall. They’ve moved her into a safe house, but Harper is idiot enough to try to find her if he thinks it’s a good idea.”

  “Where is the safe house? I’ll make sure Harper doesn’t go anywhere near it.”

  Fawkes gave him the address. “It was hard for me to get that info, so make sure Harper doesn’t go there and screw it up.”

  The safe house was in an area just on the outskirts of town. Damien smiled at Fawkes. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Harper goes nowhere near Ms. Worrall’s location.”

  Damien, on the other hand, had no such compunctions.

  * * *

  “SO WE’VE CONFIRMED that Curtis Harper is working with someone else,” profiler Jon Hatton told the team as they sat around the conference table.

  It had been a long damn day. Ashton had wished for the obstacle course or an escaped criminal they had to chase down or even some cat caught in a tree that required a SWAT rescue. Anything that would get him out of this room and provide him a physical release for the frustration coursing through his system.

  Summer’s face when he’d told her about his part in Tyler’s death yesterday. Eyes open or closed, it seemed to be the only thing he could clearly see.

  They’d talked a couple of times on the phone so he could be certain she and Chloe were okay. He’d even dropped by there this morning to drop off one of Chloe’s favorite toys. A fire truck.

  Summer had been polite but distant. Ashton hadn’t pressed. Like she’d said, there was too much going on right now to concentrate on what had happened in the past. He could see the weight of all the stress wearing on her. Her normally light and happy features were pinched and pale.

  And the fault lay squarely at his feet.

  “A security camera caught this footage of Harper and an unknown second man just after the florist shoot-out last Friday,” Jon continued. He put a picture up on the screen. “We haven’t gotten a hit on the second man in any of our facial recognition databases.”

  “We also checked the picture against all family members of anyone that the SWAT team, particularly Ashton, had any sort of official contact with in the past few years,” Brandon Han said. “In case they’d started a club or something.”

  “Anything?” Ashton asked.

  “No. You don’t recognize him, do you?”

  Ashton studied the second man. There didn’t seem to be anything striking about him whatsoever. His hair was brown, generic. Skin pale. His cheekbones were just short of puffy. His clothes were ill-fitting. He could’ve been anywhere from thirty to fifty years old and probably got passed by on the street all the time without anyone noticing him at all.

  “No. Hell, I’m looking at him right now and am not sure I could describe him to anyone else.”

  Brandon and Jon looked at each other, nodding. “We think that’s what he wants. That he’s wearing a pretty effective disguise.”

  Ashton studied the picture again. Granted, he wasn’t an investigating agent like Brandon or Jon, but he was still pretty observant. “I don’t disagree with you. But it’s a pretty damn good disguise if it is one.”

  Both men nodded.

  “Do we think this is the same second guy who was at Summer Worrall’s house when Fitzy got shot?” Roman asked.

  “We definitely know, like Ashton reported, that there was a second gunman at the scene. Interestingly, he did not use a rifle to shoot through the window. The casing forensics found was from a .357 mag revolver.”

  Ashton wasn’t surprised by that news. “Good thing for me. If he’d been using a rifle and had any accuracy at all, I’d probably be dead.”

  “It was pretty risky of him to shoot through the window since his partner was inside wrestling with you. He could’ve just as easily hit Harper,” Lillian pointed out.

  “If they both only had handguns, it would’ve made more sense for them to go inside the house together.” Ashton leaned back in his chair. “Or at least for the guy to have rushed in once he realized Harper had trouble.”

  But thank goodness the second guy hadn’t, because if he had, both Ashton and Summer would probably be dead right now.

  “We think this unknown guy is calling the shots. A puppet master of sorts,” Jon continued. “That maybe he’s the one who got Curtis Harper riled up enough to try to kill Ashton.”

  “I wondered about that,” Ashton said. “Why would Harper suddenly decide to come after me four years after his father’s death? It didn’t make any sense to me. But someone egging him on? That makes more sense.”

  Steve Drackett, head of the Critical Response Division, walked in. “We’re going to continue to search for the identity of this man. In the meantime, there’s still an APB out for Curtis Harper. All locals are looking for him. We’re also starting to use nonofficial channels.”

  Omega Sector had resources—both computerized and human—that most law enforcement agencies didn’t have. When Curtis Harper had started shooting at Ashton in the middle of a crowded city street, he’d become someone Omega would use all their resources to find and apprehend.

  “By all reports, Harper isn’t a criminal mastermind. Or mastermind of any sort,” Brandon said. He tapped the screen at the picture of the unknown man. “This man is key. I know it. He’s manipulating Harper. Using him to do his dirty work but staying clean himself.”

  “If it’s true, that’s a pretty elaborate scheme,” Lillian said. “Most people don’t sit around creating henchmen to eliminate law enforcement personnel.”

  Brandon smiled, unoffended. “You’re right, of course. Creating henchmen, as you put it, takes time. Of course, Curtis Harper was already a henchman. He just needed someone to bring it out.” The profiler studied the picture more carefully. “There’s something familiar about this guy. I don’t know what it is. But it’s something.”

  Brandon was the most brilliant agent any of them knew. If he said this unknown guy was important, everyone would listen.

  “We also have an update on the training facility accident,” Steve said. “Except I can’t call it an accident. Turns out it was definitely sabotage.”

  Ashton cursed under his breath. “Is it possible that Harper was able to manipulate the training facility in some way? Trying to take me out?”

  Steve shook his head. “No. Definitely not. This was an inside job. The problem is, we don’t know inside where.”

  Ashton sat up straighter. “So maybe not inside Omega Sector.”

  Steve shook his head. “I sure as hell hope not. There were a number of different individuals, even whole firms in some cases, who were involved in the creation of the simulation vests. Not to mention the programmers and the electricians. Any one of them could’ve been bought off to sabotage it.”

  “Great,” Roman murmured. “Fitzy’s got enemies crawling out of the woodwork.”

  “Actually, it doesn’t look like Ashton was the intended target. He just happened to choose the sensor suit that had been tampered with.”

  Ashton
rubbed his temples against the headache brewing there. “Well, that seems par for the course with my luck this week.” The worst of it having little to do with people trying to kill him and everything to do with one petite woman who had every reason to hate him.

  “Sorry about that, Ashton.” Steve’s glance was sympathetic. “The training facility will remain shut down until we figure out what’s going on, which may be weeks. Like Dr. Parker said, if it had been someone else who’d put on those sensors—someone with not as much body mass as you—we’d be at a funeral now. We can’t take any chances.”

  The thought sobered everyone even further.

  “Alright, people, it’s late.” Steve closed the file in front of him. “Time to head on home—get some rest. I’ll keep everyone posted if we hear anything about Harper or our mystery man.”

  The team got up and began dispersing. Steve was right. The best thing they could do now was be ready when they needed to move. That meant allowing themselves some downtime while they could get it.

  “You heading to the safe house?” Roman asked as they walked toward the locker room.

  “No, I don’t think I’m welcome there.”

  “Really? I thought you and Summer were a thing now. Looked that way when she was here yesterday morning.”

  “Yeah, that was before she found out that I had the shot that could’ve saved her husband two years ago.”

  Roman whistled through his teeth. “She blames you?”

  “Wouldn’t anybody?”

  “Fitzy, I’m no sniper expert like you, and I wasn’t up there that day. But we all know you would’ve taken the shot if you could’ve.”

  Ashton was tired of everyone being so quick to forgive him. Everyone except Summer, who was the only one who mattered.

  But he just shrugged. “Thanks, man.”

  “I’m sure all of this has been pretty hard on Summer. For a civilian, that woman has seen way more than her fair share of violence. Let things blow over with Harper. She’ll come around.”

  Ashton wished he could be so sure.

  He turned back as Jon Hatton called his name from down the hallway. “Hey, Harper has been spotted in a bar across town. We’re going to apprehend him, think he’s less likely to run if we go in rather than uniformed locals.”

  Ashton ran down the hall. “I’m coming with you.”

  “We don’t need SWAT for this one. We can handle him,” Jon said. “I just wanted to let you know.”

  But Ashton was already jogging back toward him. “I know you can. I’m still coming.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Summer felt numb. Had felt that way since Ashton left yesterday.

  She hadn’t handled that situation well at all. She probably should’ve had him stay, gotten more details, heard his side of the story. Instead she’d asked him to go.

  His face told her that was nothing less than he expected. Nothing less than what he thought he deserved.

  She’d cried herself to sleep last night. It just all seemed overwhelming and impossible.

  But now a day later, not quite so exhausted, she was seeing a little more clearly.

  Learning that Ashton had been there the day Tyler died had caught her off guard. He blamed himself for Tyler’s death.

  But Summer knew she didn’t blame Ashton. The same way she hadn’t blamed Joe when he’d wanted to take responsibility. Both Ashton and Joe had done their jobs. Sure, able to replay it over and over in their minds, they wished they’d done things differently. But like Lillian had said, playing God was tricky for mere humans.

  Summer should’ve told Ashton that. She couldn’t bear to think he’d spent the last day and a half thinking she blamed him. When he’d brought Chloe’s fire truck by, the air between them had been taut with awkwardness. He’d barely looked at her. Their chats on the phone to make sure she was okay hadn’t been much better.

  She knew he was needed at Omega Sector, but had hoped he would come by after work. But why would he? Why would he come back somewhere he obviously wasn’t welcome? She’d made him feel that way.

  Now it was nearly 9:00 p.m. She’d heard from Ashton last at 6:30 p.m. when the guard switch had taken place. Patrick from yesterday was back.

  She couldn’t let this go on any longer. She picked up her phone and texted Ashton.

  Come over. Let’s talk. I don’t want things to be like this between us.

  It didn’t take long for him to respond.

  I’d like that. We’re on our way to arrest Curtis Harper. I’ll be over as soon as I can, but it might be a few hours. You’ll probably be asleep.

  A pressure inside Summer eased. She and Ashton would work this out. He still wanted to see her. Hadn’t given up on them. Neither had she.

  She smiled as her fingers flew over the phone. Things really would be okay.

  That’s still fine. Especially if you can think of an interesting way of waking me up.

  When he didn’t respond right away, Summer began to get worried.

  Oh, I can think of quite a few. See you soon. I’ll have Patrick let me in.

  Summer smiled, feeling better all the way around. If Ashton was on his way to arrest Curtis Harper, then hopefully she and Chloe could go home soon. And with all the danger gone and no more secrets between them, maybe she and Ashton could just start completely over. Allow what was between them to grow into what it was supposed to be: something permanent.

  She wanted that with a ferocity that surprised her.

  She decided to take a shower and get some sleep until Ashton got there. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days, and it looked like tonight might be another semi-sleepless one.

  Although for a much better reason than last night.

  After getting out of the shower, she checked on Chloe, careful not to wake her, and closed her door. Summer lay down in bed, wishing she had some sort of sexy lingerie or nightgown or something to wear. All she had was the oversize T-shirt she always slept in and a pair of Snoopy pajama pants.

  Nothing screamed, “Take me, you hot stud” like Snoopy pajama pants.

  Oh well, he’d just have to peel her out of them.

  She placed her cell phone and the baby monitor on the nightstand and rolled onto her side, pulling the other pillow close to her.

  She fell asleep thinking of the ways Ashton might wake her up.

  * * *

  ASHTON WAS STILL smiling about Summer’s text when he, Jon Hatton and Liam Goetz entered a bar named Crystal Mac’s on the north side of Colorado Springs.

  “Why would someone name a bar as a spin-off of a drug known to induce paranoia?” Liam asked as they entered. “Not to mention be illegal as hell?”

  “Moreover, who would want to frequent it?” Jon responded.

  Evidently someone as stupid as Curtis Harper.

  They were all in jeans and casual shirts, not wanting to draw attention to themselves as federal agents. Harper was certain to run if he knew law enforcement was coming through the door.

  An anonymous tip-off had led them here, but Ashton didn’t care how they got Harper as long as they did.

  He wanted this behind him. And thank God, it sounded like Summer did, too.

  They opened the door and were immediately assaulted by loud rap music. All three men glanced at each other, rolling their eyes.

  “I’ll take the bar,” Ashton told Jon and Liam.

  Liam jerked his thumb towards the back area. “I’ll take the pool tables.”

  “I’ll find any side doors and be watching.”

  They swept the place thoroughly, but twenty minutes later it became obvious that Curtis Harper wasn’t there.

  Ashton felt the frustration boil through him. Damn it, he wanted this over with.

  “He’s not h
ere, man,” Liam said. “Let’s talk to the bartender.”

  Less worried now about people knowing they were law enforcement, Liam and Ashton showed the bartender their IDs and a picture of Harper.

  “You seen this guy around?”

  Bartender nodded. “Yeah. An hour or two ago, maybe. He took off with some woman.”

  Ashton grimaced. “Does he come in here a lot?”

  Bartender shrugged. “Not enough that I remember him. I only remember him today because his face was all beat up.”

  Liam pulled out a card. “If he shows back up, give us a call. We won’t forget it.”

  The bartender studied them. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

  They walked out the door. “Think he’ll call if Harper does show up?” Ashton asked. Liam had DEA experience before coming to work at Omega Sector and had used informants all the time.

  “Maybe. People like to think of law enforcement as owing them one.”

  The men walked out to the car and began the twenty-minute drive back to HQ. The only thing good about not having Harper in custody was that it would allow Ashton to get to Summer sooner.

  The only thing he needed to decide about now was how to wake her up.

  He showered quickly in the Omega locker room, then jogged out to his car. Patrick was on guard duty, so Ashton texted him to let him know he was on his way.

  Five minutes later when Patrick hadn’t responded, Ashton called the man’s cell phone, frowning. Whenever Patrick had been on shift and Ashton had requested an update, the agent had been quick to respond.

  But now the call went immediately to voice mail.

  Ashton put his phone in hands-free mode and called Steve Drackett’s office. Cynthia, one of Steve’s four executive assistants, answered.

  “Cynthia, it’s Ashton Fitzgerald. I just tried to reach the guard assigned at Summer Worrall’s safe house and it went straight to voice mail.”

  Cynthia didn’t waste any time. “Hold while I check the system, Ashton.”