Undercover in Copper Lake

by Marilyn Pappano - Undercover in Copper Lake

  “Nah, you give a woman enough luxury and gifts, she doesn’t care where the money comes from.”

  Sean didn’t disagree. Craig was like Maggie in that way: he believed what he wanted to believe.

  “Back to Maggie...her hearing’s next week. You’re on a tight schedule, buddy. Don’t let me down on this one.”

  Don’t let him down? Did he think Sean didn’t care if his sister was murdered, that he wasn’t going to do his damnedest to keep that from happening? “I’m doing my best,” he said tightly.

  “I hope it’s good enough.”

  * * *

  The sky was mostly dark by the time they repacked the car, with only faint streaks of pink and purple in the west. The temperature had dropped to almost cool, at least relative to the middle of the day, and Sophy felt languid and limp and lethargic as she slid into the passenger seat. As long as the girls didn’t wind her up like a top before bedtime, she would sleep like a rock tonight with so many feel-good endorphins running through her.

  Sean’s phone call had been the only awkward moment in the entire evening. He’d returned to the quilt, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched, and it had taken a while to draw him back into talking. Was his boss wanting him back at work? His girlfriend complaining that she missed him?

  He hadn’t offered any details, and she hadn’t asked. But, darn, she was pretty sure the interruption cost her the kiss she’d been planning to take if he didn’t move first.

  But they weren’t home yet, and the thought spread a smile across her face.

  He closed the trunk, then got in across from her, glancing her way. “That smile looks dangerous.”

  She shook her head. “Just thinking how incredible this evening has been.” And the goodbyes, when they came, held such promise.

  A satisfied look flashed across his face. He’d done well with his choice.

  The headlights cut a wide swath across the grass as he circled back to the road. Around the first curve, they passed a vehicle, pulled between trees, lights off, windows steamy.

  Sophy sighed. “Just about every girl I knew came out here with their high-school boyfriends to watch the boat races. I think I was the only one who didn’t.”

  “They still do that, huh?”

  “If it works, why change?” Of course, the only boat races on Copper Lake were between old buddies hustling to be the first ones at their favorite fishing spots early in the morning. But as long as teenage boys dropped the lines and teenage girls took the bait, the legend of the boat races would live on.

  “Hey, do you know who Maggie’s lawyer is?”

  “No, but I’m sure Ty does, if she won’t tell you.” She remembered from school that Maggie could be secretive, but usually about the wrong things. Personal stuff, she shared with the world. Stuff that didn’t matter much, she held close to the vest.

  “Do you know who the D.A. is?”

  “Oh, sure. Masiela Leal.”

  “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Maybe because I dated her husband before they got married. AJ Decker. They both came here from Dallas. He’s the chief of police. Mas used to be a cop, then a defense attorney and now a prosecutor.” Seeing his scowl, she quickly reassured him. “There’s no conflict of interest. AJ has zero influence on her professional decisions. She’s proven that. Plus, she nearly got killed back in Texas getting an innocent man out of jail and putting a handful of corrupt cops in. Her loyalty is to the office.”

  He nodded, and after a moment, his hands eased their grip on the steering wheel. “So you dated the chief of police. And Ty—he’s a detective. And Tommy Maricci. He always intended to be a cop.”

  “Chief of detectives. And Pete Petrovski was a patrol officer when we dated.”

  “So you like a man with a badge.”

  “I like honorable men.”

  In the dim light, his expression turned sardonic. “There’s a word no one’s ever applied to a Holigan.”

  “You’re honorable,” she said quietly, “or you wouldn’t be here.” She laid her hand lightly on his arm, all muscle and sinew and radiating heat. She could curl up next to him and never be cold, never be afraid. No matter how anti marriage or long-term relationships he insisted he was.

  Slowly he removed his right hand from the wheel, slid his arm away until his fingers were wrapped around hers, then rested both their hands on the center console. He didn’t say anything, and she couldn’t think of anything worth interrupting the pure satisfaction of the moment.

  I’m not father or husband material, Sophy. I’ve lived with responsibility...and it’s a lot easier without. Obligation to anybody isn’t included. How many times had he offered that warning to other women? More than she would probably want to know.

  It was disheartening that life had taught him he was better off alone, but it was sweet, too, that he felt the need to warn her ahead of time not to expect too much from him. She got it: he didn’t want to live in Copper Lake, to surround himself with people who’d always treated him badly. He’d never wanted marriage and kids. All he offered any woman was a short-term affair: great sex, a share of his time, even his affection, but nothing more. She understood why he’d put those limitations on himself.

  Just as she understood that if they continued the path they were on, he was probably going to break her heart. But a broken heart wouldn’t kill her. Unlike him, she put her whole self into every relationship. Some endings hurt more than others, but the hurt always healed. If she and Daisy and Dahlia and time couldn’t change Sean’s mind, sad as it would be for them all, they would survive.

  They were halfway to town when headlights appeared behind them, closing in quickly. It was such a lovely evening for taking one’s time and enjoying the night drive, but obviously the other driver didn’t share her sentiment. He pulled into the other lane—it was the white car that had been parked at the lake—then passed them in a flash, his taillights disappearing into the darkness ahead.

  “Kids,” she murmured with a shake of her head.

  “Nothing like going ninety miles an hour with the wind in your hair.”

  “You should know.”

  “But it’s definitely more fun in this car than the family car he probably borrowed from his mom.”

  Her braid was coming loose in the breeze, so she tugged the band out and combed her fingers through it. “I bet you have a long history of tickets for speeding.”

  He scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “Not as many as you’d expect. Most cops appreciate a great restoration on a baby like this. Even women cops.”

  She snorted. “It’s not the car the women are appreciating.”

  It was hard to tell, but she thought he flushed. Could he possibly be unaware that he was the star of a lot of erotic dreams?

  When they got home, he parked in the driveway behind her unimpressive family car, and they climbed the stairs together. Ty and Nev were snuggled on the couch, the TV on, when they went inside, but there was no sign of the girls.

  Sophy glanced toward their bedroom door, left open a crack with their night-light casting a sliver of light on the hall floor, then faked wiping sweat from her forehead. “Whew. Everyone’s in one piece? No bites, no bruises, no tantrums?”

  Nev shut off the TV, then rose. “They were perfect little angels. Their halos are just a little askew.”

  “If they had halos, they would be playing Frisbee with them,” Ty retorted.

  “Tossing them into trees,” Sean added.

  “Trying to knock birds out of the sky.”

  “Aiming for the antennas on passing cars.”

  Nev elbowed Ty, and he slid his arms around her.

  “You got them bathed and in bed and everything? Wow.”

  “And read them a bedtime story. Granted, Daisy tried to stand on her head the whole time, and Dahlia scowled so hard, her little face probably froze like that. But no permanent trauma was done to either children or sitters.” Nev gave her and Sean long, examining looks. “You bo
th look much more relaxed. We need to do this again. Just remember—you’ll get to repay the favor with our kids when we have them.”

  “You bet I will. Auntie Sophy had better be first on your call list.”

  Sophy hugged them both, and Sean shook hands with Ty. When the door closed behind them, an unnatural quiet fell over the room. She glanced around, then asked, “You want a cup of coffee?”

  It took him a long time to answer, as if he was debating the pros and cons. Pro: he did like her, and she always stocked good coffee. It was one of her little luxuries. Con: he did like her, and he liked the kids, and he was afraid of liking any of them too much.

  “I don’t think so,” he said slowly, and she was pretty sure some part of him was disappointed by the answer as much as she was. “It’s been a long day, and you get to start all over again in the morning.”

  “That’s the great thing about life, isn’t it? No matter how bad today is, you always get another chance tomorrow.” And no one needed to give himself another chance as much as Sean did.

  Taking her hand, he pulled her to the door with him. “I’ll wait while you lock up.”

  Sophy stepped outside on the landing and folded her arms across her middle. “I’m always careful.”

  The porch light illuminated his face, showing the half-smile quirk of his mouth, the intensity of his gaze, the strong lines and stark beauty and breath-stealing appeal. “I don’t know about that. You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

  Without conscious thought, she moved a few steps closer: one instant there was distance between them, and the next there wasn’t. Just a little bit of breathing room, the smell that was him, the strength that was him, the need that was all her. “You’re more worried about that than I am.”

  He raised his left hand, with those scarred, crooked fingers, and brushed her hair back so gently that it felt more like a whisper of a breeze than a touch. “That’s because I know what people in this town think about my family and me. I’ve been on the receiving end of the insults and the snubs and the disdain. And I know that hasn’t changed. You, Sophy, you’re their princess. They would forgive you anything except getting in bed with the Holigans.”

  Getting in bed with this particular Holigan...now, there was a thought to make a woman go weak. The air in her lungs heated and made her skin damp, her voice unsteady. “Do you think I care what people think?”

  His thumb grazed her cheek, stroking oh, so lightly down to her jaw. “I think you think you don’t care.”

  She laid her hand over his, pressing his callused palm to her face. “I’m a grown woman. If I can handle running a business and taking in two foster daughters, I can handle choosing who I get involved with.”

  It wasn’t much of an argument, and she could tell he thought so, too, from his expression and the tightening of his muscles beneath her hand. It was easy to think she was immune to everyone else’s opinion because she’d never gotten the looks, the remarks, the hostile reception. Louise Wetherby’s response when she saw Sean in the shop yesterday was typical Louise; she didn’t like anyone. But it was the reaction he would get—she would get—from a lot of people.

  Was she really certain she wouldn’t care? Relatively. Pretty much.

  But not 100 percent.

  With a regretful squeeze, she released his hand, cleared her throat. “Will you be over to see the girls tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I’ll even read Daisy a story if she’ll stand on her head.” His voice was laced with regret. For the change of subject? For the loss of contact? Was he disappointed that she hadn’t shamelessly ignored his warnings and seduced him anyway?

  She wasn’t shameless, she was sorry to admit. It was kind of nice being on that princess pedestal, forgiven for her smaller failures and presumed to be incapable of bigger ones. She had never really given any thought to climbing off it, but maybe it was time.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He nodded, went down two steps, then pivoted and came back, nudging her into the doorway with his body, catching her hands, pressing his mouth to hers. Heat and need exploded through her, driving her to maneuver closer to his body. She tried to free her hands so she could hold on to him, never let go, but he held them gently, firmly, at their sides. His head blocked the light, leaving her in dark, toasty shadow, palpable against her skin, and his hips pressed against hers, and his tongue stroked with sensual promise.

  She felt as fragile as if a heavy breath might shatter her and, at the same time, strong enough to accomplish anything. She could attract this man, could make his breathing ragged, could make him want her almost as much as she wanted him.

  But she couldn’t make him stay. Not without morning-after regret, not yet. He ended the kiss, nibbled her lower lip, drew back and placed a final kiss along her jaw. He didn’t pull away quickly but stood there, bodies touching, breath mingling, fingers still entwined. His forehead rested against hers, and she could tell his eyes were closed just from the absence of that intense gaze.

  Finally he murmured, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His fingers flexed, emphasis to accompany the words, then he let go and took the stairs two at a time until he disappeared into darkness.

  When the Chevelle started, the vibrations rumbled through the ground and right up the stairs to her stoop. Still a little bemused, she went inside and did up the locks right away, then strode through the house to her bedroom window, easing the glass up, to watch as he drove away.

  Too dreamy to jump right into nighttime concerns, she remained at the window, listening until the Chevelle’s distinctive engine faded away, until the only noises disrupting the quiet were birds, a squirrel creeping along the River’s Edge fence and the yip of a small dog. As she watched, the animal darted out of the shadows fronting Breakfast in Bed, pulling its owner on a leash.

  It was Bitsy and her master, Zeke. Sophy’s first thought was whether he scooped when Bitsy walked. The second and third came more quickly and were more pertinent: how long had he been over there, and how much had he seen? Her porch light was a beacon; anyone looking would have had a well-lit view. Aw, well, there would probably be no more friendly invitations to a meal from him.

  Zeke and Bitsy walked south, then turned left at the next corner. A moment later, a car engine started down there, and seconds after that, a white car turned onto Oglethorpe at the next block down. It was probably a coincidence, a resident leaving his house at the same time Zeke was walking past. Far more likely than him driving the dog downtown to walk past her house. The attack at Christmas had spurred her security kick. Maybe Maggie’s house blowing up was going to leave her overly suspicious for a time.

  Better to be safe than sorry, the security guy had commented when he installed the alarm the day after Christmas.

  Better to be paranoid than dead, Miri had murmured.

  Better for her, at this moment, to be in bed, storing energy for tomorrow and having sweet, steamy dreams of Sean.

  Chapter 7

  Sean came out of the jail Wednesday morning with his head throbbing and a nervous twitch in the corner of his right eye. He’d heard a lot of people complain over the years that dealing with their spouse/children/mother/father made them crazy, but he’d been so far removed from anyone in his own life that he hadn’t truly sympathized.

  Half an hour with Maggie, and he sympathized. He shoved his sunglasses on, then pressed the tip of his little finger against his eye, stopping the tic as long as he held pressure to it. If he’d sent for her when he could have afforded it, when she was eighteen, nineteen years old, he could see only two outcomes: one of them would have killed the other, or one—likely him—would have sneaked out in the middle of the night and never come back.

  He had an appointment in an hour with Masiela Leal, the district attorney married to the chief of police who used to date Sophy. He’d been raised to view prosecutors and cops as the enemy—it was a family joke that every member’s first words after Mama or Daddy were We don’t talk to cops—but luck
ily he’d outgrown that. What bothered him about this situation was the dating-Sophy part. She’d begun dating AJ Decker with high hopes that he was the one. If the freaking chief of police didn’t qualify, how the hell could someone like Sean?

  “You’re not applying for the damn position,” he reminded himself as he slid behind the wheel. “You’re keeping things cool between you.”

  Yeah, that’s why you kissed her last night.

  And enjoyed the hell out of it.

  He drove the few blocks to the quilt shop, parked in the driveway again and was headed for the stairs when a voice bellowed his name from across the street.

  “Don’t bother going up and ringing the doorbell ’cause we ain’t there.” Tugging Sophy’s hand, Daisy bounced on the curb, waiting for the okay to cross the street. Her denim overalls ended in the middle of her calves, her top looked like half a swimsuit and her flip-flops were a size too big, giving her more flip than flop. The outfit was capped off by a black cowboy hat.

  A grin fought to escape as they crossed the street to meet him on the sidewalk. Sophy held up one finger, her gaze warning him, but she spoke to Daisy, not him. “Don’t say ain’t. We aren’t there.”

  “But now we are. Well, mostly. Hey, Uncle Sean, you know what? We walked Dahlia to school today, and you know what? We saw Maria somebody, and her little girl Gracie and me are gonna have a swimmin’ party at her house, and her friend Cary’s coming, too.”

  “Clary,” Sophy corrected absently. He would bet she was listening with only half an ear, with the rest of her attention on him.

  “Do you know how to swim?” Sean asked.

  “Yup. Gavin throwed me in the creek when I was little, and I swum right up to the shore.”

  Sounded like something Declan’s kid would do. In fact, Sean was pretty sure Patrick had done the same to all of them.

  “The kids will be wearing life vests as long as they’re in sight of the pool,” Sophy said. “Anamaria is Robbie Calloway’s wife and Nev’s sister. He’ll be there, too, and Clary’s mom, and they live in a gated community. She’ll be safe.”