Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop

by Secrets in Texas

  “Don’t tell Jonathon that. He’d be deeply disappointed.”

  “Is that why he had the sudden interest in mending fences? Because he thought I was wealthy?”

  “I’m sure it didn’t hurt. I’d be watching my pockets if I were you.”

  “He’s mentioned tithing once or twice but hasn’t gotten too pushy.”

  “Must be lulling you into a false sense of security. I get the impression he’s tapped out all his old sources.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. Now tell me how many kids you have?”

  They talked of Raphael’s sixteen children and some of the people they’d grown up with. It made for an enjoyable meal. Matthew was just sorry Angel had missed the experience. Something told him she would have loved the shabby little taco stand and the small shops.

  Raphael wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. “I better get back. Why don’t you take a couple minutes and check out the shops?”

  “Sure thing. Is there a bookstore nearby?” He prayed there might be a chain bookstore with wireless access. “Angel needs something to read.”

  “The next street over.” Raphael gave him directions. He couldn’t think of a way to ask if they had wireless access. As a kid, he would have trusted Raphael with his life. But these days it didn’t hurt to be careful.

  Matthew followed Raphael’s directions, and his hopes rose when he found the bookstore. It wasn’t a large place, more of a local hangout trying to look like the big boys. But it had wireless access—or so a sign proclaimed.

  Once inside, Matthew glanced around, making sure there was no one from Zion’s Gate nearby. Then he brought up Angel’s cryptic report and hit Send. It was as simple as that.

  He slid the device into his pocket and thought about his cover story. He needed a gift for Angel.

  Locating the small Religion section, he was relieved to find a good selection of Bibles. His hand hovered over a lovely leather-bound student Bible. But he ended up choosing one that came in a metal case, figuring it might seem more familiar to Angel—it looked like something that might contain a weapon.

  As he waited in line, Matthew glanced at the magazine rack. There were several movie and pop-culture magazines, along with a famous tabloid in Spanish. But Angel didn’t impress him as the type who would care which celebrity marriage was rumored to be on the rocks.

  Instead he chose the only other magazine on the rack. The cover contained a peaceful outdoor patio scene, with the table set for a relaxing meal. She liked reading about crafts and decorating, didn’t she? Nodding, he hoped Angel didn’t roll up the Martha Stewart Living and smack him with it.

  On his way out the door, he almost collided with Jonathon on his way in.

  “Matthew, why aren’t you at the farmer’s market?”

  “Raphael and I had lunch at the taco stand. He returned to the market and I stopped in here to buy Angel a gift. A new Bible.”

  Jonathon appeared slightly mollified. “Hurry back to the booth, son. I’m sure Raphael needs your help.”

  His use of the term son raised Matthew’s hackles. This man had never been a father to him and never would be. But he had a role to play. “Yes, sir. Will you be returning soon?”

  Jonathon nodded absently. “Yes,” he said and hurried through the doors.

  Matthew stood and watched him through the glass. He didn’t appear to be meeting anyone.

  But Jonathon sat in one of the chairs and plugged in a device that looked similar to Angel’s pocket PC, only bigger.

  Interesting. Who was Jonathon e-mailing that he couldn’t e-mail from home? Matthew wondered if they would find anything useful on the computer in his study.

  Starting back to the booth, he tried to forget his uncle for a while and recall his earlier enjoyment of the town.

  He noticed a small line at the booth and jogged the last couple of yards. There he pitched in next to Raphael, the two working seamlessly together as if they’d done this all their lives.

  By three o’clock, he was grateful when Raphael said it was time to close shop. Only a small selection of their fruits and vegetables remained, which they boxed and dropped off at the food bank on their way out of town.

  And, as predicted, Uncle Jonathon showed up as the last table was folded and loaded into Raphael’s truck.

  “How’d we do, gentlemen?”

  Raphael handed him the tallies.

  Jonathon frowned. “I’d hoped for more, but as long as you men gave it your best…”

  The inference being that if they had given their best, they would have brought in more.

  Matthew glanced at Raphael, who shrugged impassively.

  Having a hard time being quite so philosophical, Matthew figured it was a good thing he didn’t intend to live at Zion’s Gate permanently. Because if he did, he would give his uncle a piece of his mind and then get booted out on his rear.

  ANGEL PUT THE PEACH cobbler in the oven to bake, glancing at the kitchen clock. Five o’clock. The day had gone by slowly with Matthew gone. She’d sorely missed their picnic lunch.

  Truth be told, she felt strangely disconnected, as if she’d been cut off from her very life source. All easily rationalized as relying too heavily on her temporary partner, her only connection with the outside world.

  Would Matthew be able to find wireless access? Angel hoped so. After no contact in nearly three weeks, her superiors had to be getting impatient. How could an outsider understand how long it took to earn trust here? Angel felt they were just now making headway.

  But their surveillance the other night had been fruitful. Something was going on. Why else would there be clandestine transactions at midnight? She only wished they’d gotten close enough to see what they were dealing with. Weapons or drugs?

  “Angel?” Matthew’s voice came from the living room.

  She quickly wiped the flour from her hands and went to meet him. A shock of pleasant recognition ran through her. Her place in this crazy world suddenly seemed right.

  “Matthew.” She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re home.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. “Yeah, you miss me?”

  “I did.” She grinned down at him.

  He slowly lowered her to the floor. Tipping her chin with his finger, he kissed her, a long, languid kiss full of promise.

  Angel surprised herself by returning his kiss wholeheartedly.

  A loud cough roused Angel from her absorption with Matthew. She drew back and he released her, regret in his eyes.

  “Matthew, you’re home.” Eleanor stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes alight with amusement. “Apparently Angel missed you.”

  “Yes, apparently she did. I’ll have to go away more often.”

  “Oh, don’t get such a swelled head,” Angel huffed. “You were only gone for twelve hours.”

  He chuckled. “Not that you were counting?”

  “Simply an observation.”

  “Come to the kitchen and have a cold drink.” Eleanor led the way. “We made lemonade today.”

  “I feel like I could drink a pitcher all by myself. You always did make the best lemonade.”

  The older woman smiled. “It went well?”

  “I thought so. We sold out of the honey, preserves and craft items. Just a few fruits and vegetables left over. We dropped those off at the food bank.”

  “Was Jonathon pleased?”

  “He hoped we’d do better.”

  “He usually does.”

  Angel thought Matthew seemed different. Relaxed, happy almost. She touched his cheek. “You got sunburned. You should have worn sunscreen.”

  “A bit. It was great being outside all day, though. Maybe next time I’ll wear a hat. It was good spending time with Raphael, too.”

  “You two always were thick as thieves.” Eleanor placed a tall glass on the kitchen table. “Sit, relax.”

  He did.

  Angel pulled out a chair and sat next to him. �
��I want to hear all about your day.”

  “First, this.” Matthew placed a shopping bag on the table in front of her. “I bought you a present.”

  “Really? For me?”

  “Yes, really.”

  Angel hesitated, hoping she didn’t look as bemused as she felt. Gingerly she picked up the bag and opened it. Inside was a metal box with rounded corners. “What is it?”

  Matthew flipped it over. “It’s a Bible. Your very own, so you don’t need to borrow mine.”

  But I like reading yours. It was like a treasure hunt, searching through the pages he’d thumbed many times. Reading his handwritten notations in the margins, trying to make sense of them. His Bible was personal. It had character.

  She tried to show enthusiasm for the new Bible she removed from the metal box. “How nice, Matthew. Thank you.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I will treasure it because it came from you.”

  “There’s a magazine in there. I hope it’s okay.”

  She removed the magazine and took one look at the glossy cover and hugged it to her chest. “I love it.”

  “I didn’t know if Martha was quite your cup of tea.”

  “It looks wonderful.” She could barely wait for their evening Bible-reading time. Because after that, she could pore over the latest issue of one of her favorite magazines. Small pleasures had taken on greater significance since she’d come to Zion’s Gate. Maybe it was a lesson she could take away with her when she left.

  She jumped up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Matthew. You’re so sweet. I’ll take these upstairs.”

  “See what Matthew bought for me?” She showed her treasures to Eleanor as she danced past the woman.

  She patted Angel’s cheek, her eyes moist. “Very nice, dear. He’s a good boy.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ANGEL TRIED TO ignore Matthew’s presence so close to her on the bed.

  He rubbed her calf with his foot, his face relaxed as he read his new business magazine. In the past, invasion of her space would have made her angry. Now it was comfortable, though slightly unsettling at the same time.

  And she was growing accustomed to Matthew touching her. The stray caress, the kiss hello or goodbye. It seemed natural, almost as if they really were husband and wife. Except for the whole consummation part. And she wouldn’t allow her thoughts to stray that far.

  “You’re sure the e-mail went off without a hitch?” she asked.

  “Yes. If I’d have known it was that easy, I would have e-mailed my assistant.”

  “And I would have asked you to e-mail my folks. They start getting anxious, especially when I’m undercover. They try not to let it show, but they’re so relieved to hear from me. Probably because of the time I dropped out of sight with Kent.”

  “That would be a horrible thing for a parent to live with. Knowing after the fact that their child had been in danger, when they assumed she was simply involved in her new life.”

  “Well, Kent made sure he set their minds at ease.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that, Angelina. I’d give anything to be able to erase it.” He fingered a lock of her hair, which touched his shoulder. “You deserved someone who would give you the world, not destroy you minute by minute, hour by hour.”

  Angel swallowed hard. “What a lovely thing to say. Coming from anyone but you, it would sound corny.”

  He shrugged and grinned. “As the great philosopher Popeye once said, ‘I yam what I yam.’”

  “You? A Popeye fan? Please tell me you’re not one of those guys who watches cartoons all Saturday morning.”

  “Not all Saturday morning. Just an hour or two.” His eyes twinkled with humor. She’d always thought that a man who could laugh at himself was sexy.

  “Oh, brother, there goes my whole image of you.”

  “You and my mother are the only ones who know my deep, dark secret. When we left the sect, the outside world was a wonderful, scary place, full of things I hadn’t even known existed. Animation was one of them.”

  “I never thought about how difficult the transition must have been. It was probably like being from another country. No, another planet.”

  “Exactly. I spoke the same language, but the culture was foreign. I had to learn a lot to blend in. Fortunately my mother found a few people who’d left similar communities and they helped us acclimate.”

  “Yeah, I bet the kids were real friendly when you used terms like ‘acclimate.’”

  Matthew shrugged. “I knew I was different, that there were some people who would think I was a freak if they knew my background. So I was very careful who I told.”

  Angel hesitated. “Did anyone you trusted end up thinking you were a freak?”

  “Unfortunately. A girl I dated in college. I thought because she was pretty on the outside, she was pretty on the inside. Not true. A hard lesson.”

  “What happened?”

  “She dumped me in a very public manner. And told people I had, um, certain physical defects because of inbreeding.”

  Was the woman crazy? Matthew had to be the closest thing to a perfect, green-eyed, blond specimen of manhood she had ever seen. Had she really thought he was bland at one point? How could a man with such heart, such humor, ever be bland? Or defective. “What kind of defects?”

  “Let’s just say they pertained to my, um, family jewels.”

  Amusement warred with outrage. Amusement that Matthew hesitated when he referred to genitals, even in a euphemistic way. Outrage that some bitch could be so intentionally cruel.

  “That is so unfair.” Angel plucked a pen and pad of paper from the nightstand. “Give me her name. I’ve got a friend in the IRS who would love nothing better than to audit her for, say, decades.”

  Matthew laughed. “Angelina, you are one scary woman. And you’ve restored my wounded pride.”

  “I’m serious, Matt. Give me her name and she’ll regret she ever messed with you.”

  Grasping her hand, he twined his fingers with hers. “She did me a favor. I learned to be more discriminating in the company I keep. And here I am, in bed with you.”

  Angel’s mouth went dry. His words were teasing, but there was a question in his eyes. He’d be willing to take their fake relationship into the realm of reality. What would it hurt? Nobody would ever have to know. It wasn’t as if she didn’t find him attractive. And she liked him more than any man she’d met in a long time. She enjoyed spending time with him and missed him when he was gone. Was that a crime?

  No, but bedding him would be criminal stupidity.

  Angel tried to pretend she hadn’t understood his conjecture. “Yes, Matt, here we are. And I’ve got a job to do. How about we break into Jonathon’s study tonight?”

  “Not the late-night activity I’d hoped for. But, yes, let’s give it a try.”

  Damn him. He was even gracious about being shot down.

  “Eleanor obviously hadn’t hit her REM sleep cycle by midnight the other night. You want to try two o’clock? We can set the alarm, catch some sleep between now and then.”

  “There are other ways I’d rather spend the time.”

  “Yeah, I kind of got that impression, Matt. But it can’t happen. Not only is it unprofessional, it’s not fair to start something that would never work in the real world.”

  “You’re very sure we wouldn’t be good together in the real world?”

  “Positive.” It would have been a convincing statement if her voice hadn’t been two octaves too high. She cleared her throat. “Positive,” she reiterated in a normal speaking voice.

  “So you say. I’ll set the alarm if you want to use the bathroom first.”

  Some of the tension eased from Angel’s shoulders. Everything was going to be okay. She’d delineated her boundaries and he had respected them. End of story.

  When Angel emerged from the bathroom, she was surprised to see Matthew still ensconced on the bed. The pallet wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
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  She pulled the blankets from the closet and tossed them on the floor. “Your turn on the floor.”

  He glanced up from his magazine. “Yes, I know.”

  Propping her hands on her hips, she said, “Get off my bed.”

  “Of course. But haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “What?” She bared her teeth in an exaggerated smile. “See, I brushed. Good oral hygiene. I’m ready for sleepy time.”

  “We’re newlyweds. If we don’t make love after being separated all day, I’m sure people will talk.”

  “I’ll make a big show of laundering our sheets again tomorrow, okay?”

  “But Ruth will assume our lovemaking has slipped into passionless mediocrity. I’m not sure if I want my future wife thinking that.” He set his magazine on the bedside table and held out his hand to her. “I’m very tired tonight. It doesn’t have to be long.”

  Angel sighed. “Okay.”

  She knelt beside him on the bed. He turned to face the wall, raised up on his knees and rocked forward.

  Nothing.

  “Harder.”

  “See, I knew you’d come around,” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

  She smacked him on the shoulder. “Keep it clean, Matt.”

  They rocked again. Silence. The bed didn’t seem to be cooperating in its usual manner.

  “Get up,” Angel ordered, crawling off the bed.

  Matthew grinned.

  Holding up her hand, she warned, “No more jokes. It’s not going to happen, so don’t even go there. Now help me push the bed closer to the wall.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He saluted, pushing the bed up against the wall.

  “Try again.”

  They tried again. The headboard made a slight tapping, but not the resounding thwack they were accustomed to.

  “You’re not trying,” she accused.

  “Maybe I don’t have proper motivation.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “Here.” He grasped her shoulders, turning her and pinning her on her back in one fluid, near-perfect move. Straddling her thighs, he waited.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”