Undercover in Copper Lake

by Marilyn Pappano - Undercover in Copper Lake

  He gave an admiring shake of his head. “You Smith girls are good to have in a bad situation. She saved you from gunmen. You saved us from the fire.”

  Her face warmed with pleasure. “I did my part, didn’t I? I’m a self-rescuing princess.”

  “The best kind to be.”

  She glanced out the window and realized they’d reached the outskirts of town. There was nothing in the direction they were headed but country roads, occasional farmhouses and, three miles out, the lake for which the town was named. It wasn’t unheard-of around here to find a restaurant in the middle of nowhere, but she couldn’t recall one out this way.

  “Where are we going?”

  “About the only child-free place I know outside of the jail.”

  She considered how she felt about eating at a place so far out of town that no one she knew would see her, and she wasn’t proud to admit that there was relief mixed in with the anticipation and curiosity. Just the tiniest relief that this time, at least, she wouldn’t have to field calls from Mom, Dad and Reba, along with who knew how many others.

  Her life had always been so public, and people had always felt justified in giving her the full benefit of their advice. Nev said it was because she never dreamed of telling them to mind their own business. She’d already been on the receiving end of the are-you-crazy calls for taking in Dahlia and Daisy. She didn’t want to hear it again, and in less than flattering terms, about Sean.

  Watching the breeze ruffle his hair, the way his dark glasses covered his eyes but left her just a glimpse of the corner of his eye and long, lush lashes, she asked, “How did you end up in Virginia?”

  “I wanted to see the ocean.”

  “Why did you stay?”

  “Because it wasn’t here.” After a moment, he slowed, turned onto a narrower road, then glanced at her. “I went to prison not long after I left home. You knew that, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. Bad news about Holigans, no matter how familiar, always made the rounds. And with Sean, it hadn’t been so familiar. Sure, he’d spent a few nights in jail here and there, but he’d stayed away from the more serious crimes. Some people had thought he would escape the family curse and make a good life for himself. Some had hoped he wouldn’t.

  “Were you guilty?”

  “Of criminal stupidity, among other things. A guy I knew loaned me his car, asked me to pick him up at the store where he worked. He met me in the parking lot and said, ‘Drive,’ and I did, for the couple miles it took the police to spot us.”

  “He robbed the place?” Sophy asked quietly.

  “Yeah. And the car was stolen. We both went to prison, and when I got out, I headed east. I was thinking maybe Charleston or Myrtle Beach, but I hitched a ride with a guy heading to Norfolk, so I went along. He got me a job at his father’s garage, and I stayed. He owns the place now, the pay is good and the city’s got a lot going for it.”

  He’d gotten what he wanted: a new life far from home where no one knew him. A place with no ties to the past he’d been running from. Had he made new ties? Had he put down roots, made a real home for himself, or was he just passing time there?

  Before she could ask, he slowed and turned once again. The road wound through trees, giving an occasional glimpse of the lake, before opening into a clearing. She breathed deeply of the fresh-mown-grass smell that drifted on the air. “The only downside of living above the shop is the tiny yard. When I mow, I get one good breath of cut-grass perfume, then it’s gone.”

  “Beats the hell out of smoke, doesn’t it?” He parked twenty feet from the water’s edge, shutting off the engine. In that first moment, there was silence, then birdsong, crickets, the lapping of the water. Peace.

  Sophy got out and walked closer to the shore. The sun cast her shadow, long and rippling, across the water. A boat motor sounded off to the east, while closer the trunk of the car was opened, then closed again. Eyes closed, she listened to the rustle of Sean’s footsteps, the flap-flap of a blanket shaken out, the crinkle of paper.

  Just this morning, she’d tried to entice Daisy with a picnic, thinking the sunshine, warm weather and exposure to nature would be good for both of them. How had he known she needed this?

  Now the footsteps came toward her. Smiling, she turned to face him. His black hair gleamed in the sun. His jaw was shaved smooth, and the bandage on his arm contrasted starkly against his dark, warm skin.

  He looked incredibly sexy and intense and dangerous, and being this close to him, close enough to smell his cologne, to feel the heat and the strength radiating from him, sent a delicious little shiver through her.

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a picnic sort of guy.”

  “Picnicking is underrated.”

  So was he.

  “Look around. The perfect time and place for a picnic, and we’re the only ones here.”

  She did look around: acres of grass, some shaded by tall oaks, the rest in full sun; the water; the serenity; the perfection of it all. The smile that curved her mouth was carefree, contented and full of pleasure. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  Chapter 6

  Sean had borrowed the quilt from Nev, bought an ice chest at the grocery store and picked up the food from Ellie’s Deli on the square—slices of real turkey breast on slabs of homemade bread with lettuce and tomatoes fresh from the restaurant garden, dishes of coleslaw and creamy potato salad, wedges of dill pickle and a dozen cookies.

  Not a bad picnic for a first-timer.

  Now the sun was barely topping the trees to the west, the food mostly gone, the evening almost unbearably comfortable. He’d dated a lot of women, deliberately limiting his time and emotional involvement with all of them. Even with Sara Moultrie, he hadn’t let things get to this point, where being with her was not just easy but satisfying. For damn sure risky.

  But after the fire, for the girls’ safety, for Sophy’s, keeping his distance wasn’t an option.

  They’d cleared away the food, and now she lay on her back, a brown bottle of his favorite root beer balanced in both hands on her stomach. She looked younger, less stressed, more innocent and serene. Who’d ever thought serene could draw a man in?

  “Ellie’s staff outdid themselves on the dinner,” she remarked. “So did you.”

  “Is she a friend of yours?”

  She considered it a moment. “We’re friendly acquaintances. I don’t think she ever forgave me for dating Tommy when they were broken up.”

  “Tommy Maricci?” Tommy had been Robbie Calloway’s best buddy, one of the guys Sean hung out with at Charlie’s garage.

  “Yup. We dated. He married Ellie. The story of my life.”

  “Someday you should date someone and marry him. Might be a refreshing change.” Though the thought of some other guy having a claim on her time and attention and affection sent an uneasy feeling through him, something that felt too damn much like jealousy.

  Sean Holigan had never been jealous over a woman in his entire life. Situations, circumstances, material possessions, sure, but never a woman.

  Shifting her gaze to the right, she studied him. “That’s my hope. To get married and have babies and live happily ever after like my mom and dad. Of course, first I have to fall in love, and I haven’t really done that yet. I start every new relationship with high hopes—otherwise, why bother?—but while I loved most of the guys I’ve dated, I haven’t really been in love with any of them.”

  He rolled until he was on his side facing her, head resting on his fist. “Their loss.”

  “Considering they’re all happily married, I don’t think they’d agree with you.” Using the bottle, she pointed to a cloud drifting slowly. “That one looks like a rabbit.”

  He didn’t look up. He’d found throughout dinner that the clouds she chose rarely looked the way she envisioned them. She gave them more credit for substance than they deserved. She was giving him more credit than he deserved. “Have you noticed that all your clouds look like warm, fuzzy animals
?”

  This time she pointed the bottle at him. “You can never have too much warm and fuzzy in your life. Besides, yours all look like cars or car parts.”

  Slowly she rolled onto her side so she could drink the root beer instead of gesturing with it. “Are you happy in Norfolk?”

  There were pros and cons. He liked the city. His apartment felt more like home than any place he’d ever known...though he feared Sophy’s cozy little place above the quilt shop could beat it. He knew his way around town, where to shop, where to eat, where to go to party. He had friends. He liked his job. He’d invested a lot of himself in the garage, in the restoration business.

  And the cons? Sometimes the city was too crowded. He’d witnessed his buddy committing murder, and now there was Craig’s nasty little threat against the female Holigans.

  “It’s good,” he said. But he wouldn’t be staying there once the DEA arrested Craig. No reason to tempt fate, or the goobers who worked for Craig. He would take his mechanic skills and move someplace else. Someplace new.

  Not Copper Lake.

  For the first time in his life, he felt a twinge of regret at the thought of leaving again.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  The question surprised him. He didn’t normally discuss things like love and marriage on a first date—not even on a twentieth date. If this could be considered a date.

  He slanted her a wry look. “Are you still feeling giddy from this morning?”

  “Maybe a little giddy. I’m happy to be alive, this place has restored my balance and right now I’m pretty sure I can do anything. Including recognizing when you’re avoiding a question.”

  “Nope, never have.” He grinned. “Never wanted to be. I watched my old man go through that with my mother, Declan and Ian with their wives. I don’t need the trouble.”

  “But what about the joy?”

  Sitting up, he faced her, his knees drawn up so he could rest his arms on them. “Joy isn’t a word used on our side of town unless it’s some unfortunate kid’s name.”

  “Okay, then happiness.”

  “By the time I came along, the only thing between my parents was fights.”

  Again she mimicked his position. “Don’t you get lonely? Don’t you wonder what could have been? Doesn’t it give you hope to think that there’s someone out there waiting just for you?”

  He didn’t point out that having someone around was no guarantee of not being lonely. And what was the use of wondering what might have been? Marriage, kids, a good life—maybe. Divorce, child support for kids the ex poisoned against him and trouble—more likely.

  As far as someone special out there just for him...hell, he was thirty-three, not thirteen. He’d never believed that fairy tale.

  “You may have noticed with Daisy and Dahlia that I’m not exactly warm and fuzzy with kids.”

  Sophy snorted. “If you get warm and fuzzy with them, they’ll bite. They kick, too, and punch and pull hair. If there’s one thing no one has to teach them, it’s how to defend themselves.”

  He smiled a little at the image. It was a good thing they were tough. They had to be with Maggie for a mother and who the hell knew for fathers. Then his thoughts returned to the conversation, and he somberly said, “I’m not father or husband material, Sophy. I’ve lived with responsibility, and I’ve lived without it, and it’s a lot easier without. You’ve always known what your life would be, and I’ve always known what mine would be, and obligation to anybody isn’t included.” Wasn’t he proving that now by helping the DEA build a case against Craig?

  “But you can have more than you want.”

  “I’ve got what I want. Why would I want more?”

  She fell silent, but her gaze never left his face. What was she searching for? Some indication that he was B.S.-ing her? That on rare occasions he did find himself thinking about—just thinking, not wanting—more?

  He held her gaze as long as he could, then turned his head to look across the lake. He’d camped a lot of nights on its shores, when the summer weather was too hot and muggy to stay inside, when somebody old enough to buy beer had invited him along, when Patrick was on the warpath and all the boys thought it best to stay gone. No matter the reason, they’d always had a good time.

  Sometimes he forgot that he’d had good times.

  “If Maggie goes to prison, what about the girls?”

  His gaze narrowed until all he saw was a small section of choppy water. Asked that question a few days ago, his answer would have been easy: let the state terminate her parental rights and put the kids up for adoption. Now that he’d met them, felt Dahlia’s scorn and Daisy’s fear and tears, it didn’t seem so easy.

  “You’re the only law-abiding, dependable member of their family.”

  His laugh was sharp. It was a sad family when he was the best of the bunch. “What would happen if I hadn’t come to town?” He’d spent the afternoon urging Maggie to plead guilty and go to prison, but he hadn’t given much thought to the girls. He just automatically figured any home was better than Maggie’s home.

  “I don’t know. I’m still new to this stuff. I guess they would stay in foster care, whether it was with me or someone else.” A regretful look crossed her face that he understood immediately.

  “You didn’t take them to raise.” Weeks, months, maybe even a year, but ten years? Fifteen? She was a single woman looking for love, marriage and babies of her own. Having Maggie’s kids that long wasn’t fostering; it was raising to adulthood, providing a home, food, education, guidance, love, discipline. Teaching morals and manners and honesty and strength and trustworthiness.

  “Maggie’s always been lucky—a few weeks here, maybe a month there. But this time...” Sophy’s face flushed pink in the setting sun. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re welcome in my home as long as they need a place. I just wonder if at some point they’d be better off with family. With you.”

  Could he do that? Change his life to accommodate his nieces? Get a little house, settle down, join the PTO and go to church? Be the one to do the teaching and the loving and the guiding and instilling the strength, all in the hope that they could have the chance at life that he’d denied their mother?

  Could he even convince a court to give him the chance?

  “I think that’s one of those wait-and-see things.”

  Before Sophy could point out what a lame answer that was, his cell phone rang. Ordinarily, he would let it go to voice mail, but these weren’t ordinary times. It could be Ty saying the kids had handcuffed him and Nev and made their escape, or Special Agent Baker wanting an update, or Craig wanting the same.

  He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, then eased to his feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to...” After Sophy nodded, he walked to the water. “Hey, Craig.”

  “Is it true what they say—that you can’t go home again?” His boss was in a good mood. Music played in the background, along with the usual restaurant noises. Tuesday night, he was probably at his favorite place, where a lobster dinner for two cost more than average people made in a week.

  “I don’t know yet. I haven’t been here long enough to decide.”

  “How is Maggie?”

  “About how you’d expect anyone who’s unwillingly detoxing.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sophy, lying on her back again, gazing at the darkening sky. She’d removed her shoes and crossed her ankles, and her hands were clasped across her flat middle. Thanks to gravity, her shirt clung close to her breasts. The look on her face... God help him, he’d be seeing her face in his dreams tonight.

  “You talked to her about pleading guilty?”

  “I’ve talked. I’m not sure she’s listening.”

  “That’s why you’re there, buddy, to persuade her. I’ve heard she’s leaning toward making a deal.”

  Aw, jeez. Who was on his payroll? One of the jailers, another inmate, maybe even her lawyer? And why couldn’t she keep her mouth freaking shut? Did she think Sean was kidding about t
he danger?

  Maggie believed what she wanted to believe. It was as simple as that.

  “How much does she know, Sean?”

  “I don’t know,” he lied. Grimly, he turned back to the water, scuffing through the grass, putting distance between him and Sophy. “She’s messed up, Craig, you know that. I just need time to get through to her. Right now she’s just thinking about getting out—”

  “And getting a fix.”

  “Yeah.” It made Sean’s head throb to agree. “She hasn’t faced the reality of the situation. I’m going to keep seeing her, keep talking to her.”

  “I would have thought losing her house would help her see clearly.”

  His fingers tightened on the phone, and he swallowed hard. “Yeah. The timing sucked, though. I was in the house when it blew up. A little warning would have been nice.”

  “Wouldn’t you have tried to stop it?”

  Yep, it had been a deliberate act—both a message from Craig and making certain no evidence remained. “Are you kidding? I would have blown up that place a long time ago if I’d had the chance. But I wouldn’t have been inside when it happened.”

  “But you got out, with nothing more than a scratch. And Daisy and the foster mother were fine, too.” Craig laughed. “And I mean fine in the best possible way with Sophy. Man, she’s damn near everything I want when I settle down and become respectable. Compassionate, generous, churchgoing, responsible, beautiful, naive...”

  Sean felt like his grandfather’s old coonhound, bristling all over when anyone dared violate his territory. The thought of Sophy exposed to Craig in any way made his gut churn. Craig shouldn’t even know she existed, much less what she looked like, where she lived, how she lived.

  Damn Maggie for bringing Craig into Sophy’s and the kids’ lives, even peripherally, and damn Craig for being a greedy, heartless bastard.

  “You’d have to give up all the bad things for a woman like that.” Sean’s voice was hoarse, forced through the tightness in his throat.