“Special Agent McIntyre.” He yawned. “Come in.” He stepped back as he opened the door wider.
I entered and saw Abigail in a matching outfit. Why hadn’t she stopped me from interrupting this cozy scene? Why hadn’t Delia warned me? Why hadn’t that damn plane gone down and saved me from standing here like the idiot that I was?
In the act of shutting the door, he paused and stuck his head outside. “Is that Special Agent Delia Travers I see backing out of my driveway?”
“Yeah.”
Abigail snickered. Her hair fell to her shoulders, all mussed and sexy like she too had just gotten out of bed. What did I expect getting here in the middle of the night? Was she sleeping with him? Would she do that after she had been so hot with me just three days ago?
“Huh.” Weilchek shut the door, locked it, and flicked the light switch next to the door. “Want a bed or the couch?”
I shrugged.
Weilchek continued. “Can you guys work it out? I’m beat.”
“All right, Darvey.”
I hated the way she said his name, like a caress. I tasted bile in my throat. Weilchek bid us goodnight and disappeared down the hall. The click of the door shutting echoed in the house. I watched Abigail, and she returned my look. We met halfway.
I dropped my bags to hold her.
“Thank you. Thank you for coming back.”
I stroked her hair and stuck my nose close to suck in that girly shampoo scent. My body relaxed against her softness, and I swear my knees started shaking. She must have noticed because she dropped one arm and walked me to the couch. When I sat, she moved over to the other end, tucked her legs under her, and leaned against the arm. I hadn’t been ready to put any space between us yet. Obviously, she was. What had I interrupted?
“What happened?”
“Well, there was a bomb threat at the court house, and they postponed the case until tomorrow. I stayed at work and when I got home there was a box on my doorstep. I started to pick it up, but there wasn’t a postmark on it, and there wasn’t a return address, and I remembered about the bomb threat so I called Darvey and asked him if he could come over. I tried to call you, but I just got your voice mail.”
“I was on the plane.”
“I didn’t go in my apartment. I was afraid to. I drove to Schanuk Burgers and waited for Darvey to meet me. We went back to the apartment, and he thought it was suspicious, too, so he called the ATF. They evacuated the entire apartment building and the one next to it. Darvey brought me to his house, and afterwards Madeline Daughton and some other guy came over here, questioned me, and told me it had been a pipe bomb. Crude, but it could have…well, they said it could have been bad.”
Air whooshed from my lungs. Yes, it could have been very bad.
I stared at the powder blue carpet trying to exorcise images of Abigail opening the package from my head. It had been close. It had been so close. She had been smart today, but could we get the bastard before he tried again and got luckier next time? It had to be somebody in the gang, somebody who didn’t want her to testify against Ford. The problem was we thought we had gotten the most charismatic of the gangsters behind bars. We had hoped the Nights would fall to the wayside without them. Who had we missed? A small sound alerted me. I looked across the couch and saw Abigail wiping her eyes with a tissue. I slid over and cupped her face so she had no choice but to meet my gaze.
“You’re okay. You used your brain. Do you mind me saying I’m proud of you?”
“Why? ‘Cause I didn’t get blown to smithereens?”
“Yeah. You used good judgment, and it saved your life.”
“What if—”
“Don’t. Don’t play that game, Abigail. It’ll drive you nuts. What’s important is that no one was hurt. No one was killed. You’ll testify. We’ll find the perpetrator, and you can go back to life as normal…well, as normal as your life gets, anyway.”
She laughed self-deprecatingly, and I moved my hand to cradle her head, her hair soft against my skin. “Go on to bed. I’ll stay out here on the couch, and in the morning we’ll see about going back and getting some of your stuff.”
“I can’t sleep. Poor Darvey kept dozing off in the chair before you got here. I don’t think he’s much of a night owl.”
“Get in the bed and try.” I slid my hand down her neck, feeling how tight her muscles were.
She shook her head moving away from my touch. “You take the bed. I’ll stay here and read. Darvey has a huge stack of Guns and Ammo. When you got here, I was just about to take a quiz to see which gun I should buy before dove season starts.”
I had dropped my hand and leaned back against the couch watching her, listening to her, wishing we weren’t negotiating sleeping in separate spaces.
“Somehow the magazines don’t fit the old lady style of the room.” I took in the brocade curtains which matched the couch where we sat. Whoever decided on the blue color must have been a fan of cotton candy. White antique lamps with delicate blue flowers painted on the glass sat on both end tables, and I raised my eyebrows when I spotted a doily. “Is he gay?”
“No. This is his grandmother’s house. He’s been living here for about a year helping take care of her until she just couldn’t stay here by herself when he was at work. She went into the nursing home a few months ago.”
How could I measure up to that? I had seen my family once in over a year. I hadn’t spent Thanksgiving or Christmas with them since I started with the agency. My mom never even asked me anymore about holidays.
Abigail raised her hand and covered a yawn.
“Abigail, you may have to testify tomorrow. You’ve had a hard day. Won’t you just try to go lie down?”
“You know, Scott. I appreciate the chivalrous gesture, but I know you won’t be comfortable on this couch.”
“I didn’t come here to sleep. I came here to protect you. Now, I’m not about to go to bed and leave you vulnerable in the front room.”
Abigail sighed. “All right, Special Agent McIntyre.” She stood up. “I understand. If something happens to me, you wouldn’t have as strong a case against Ford Daniels.”
“You’re right about that.” Not that I gave flying fig about any of it at this point. I didn’t even want her to testify, but I couldn’t let my feelings screw up almost two years’ worth of work. Abigail needed to testify. I needed to keep her safe. And too damn bad if it took more than three days to do it.
“That’s it then. Good night.”
Without waiting for my reply, she marched from the room. A door from down the hall opened and clicked shut. I tried not to dwell on whether or not it was Weilchek’s bedroom she had just entered.
****
I woke up to darkness. Reaching under the edge of the couch, I grasped my Glock and moved toward the sound which had awoken me. A streetlight from the front shone through the windows enough to maneuver through the room. I slipped through a door into the den. A small table lamp in the corner created more shadows than illumination. Across the way was the kitchen. With caution, I approached the room and stopped short when I saw the rear door standing open. Damn. Someone had gotten in the house. I jumped into a dark corner and scanned the room. Nobody that I could tell. Which room was Abigail in? Geez, I should have gone with her when I had sent her to bed, except I hadn’t wanted to make an ass out of myself if she had gone in with Weilchek.
Delia was right. If I had been covering anybody but Abigail, I would have gone with the person to make sure no one was waiting to hurt them. But I hadn’t trusted myself to go with her in a room with a bed. I certainly hadn’t trusted myself to go in that room, if Weilchek had been in there with their matching outfits. It would have been a toss-up between beating Dudley Do Right to a pulp on his granny’s cotton candy carpet or banging my head against the flower papered wall until I knocked myself out.
Squeeeeeak.
Thank you, Weilchek, for not oiling your granny’s back door hinges.
The door shut. I tense
d, moving the safety and aiming at the door. I figured three seconds.
Two.
One.
“Abigail, what the hell are you doing?”
She jumped and clutched her chest. “Is that a gun?” She charged from the kitchen into the den where I stood.
“Yes, it’s a gun. I thought you were an intruder. Were you outside? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I secured the gun and cupped her shoulders.
She shoved my hands away. “Yeah, by you.”
“I was protecting you. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I told you I can’t sleep.”
“Don’t go outside by yourself. Why didn’t you get me or Weilchek? Have you forgotten somebody tried to kill you earlier today?”
“I didn’t go outside. I was watching TV. There’s an enclosed porch off the kitchen.”
“On the other side of the house from me? What if someone had tried to get in the back door?”
Would you keep your voice down? You’re going to wake Darvey?”
“Well, maybe he needs to get his ass out of bed and see where his girlfriend is traipsing off to.”
Her foot stomped down hard on mine. Man, I wished I’d kept my shoes on when I’d laid down on the couch.
She did an about face and was marching from the room when I strode after her and caught my foot on the leg of an end table toppling it, losing my balance and falling into Abigail. I tried to catch us both, but klutz that I was, we fell to the floor, me on top of her. I rolled off and turned her on her back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’
Silence.
“Abigail?” I put my face close to hers, placed my fingers on her neck to feel a pulse. Her fingers gripped my wrist.
“I’m okay.”
“Geez, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. Just knocked the breath out of me was all.”
She was so close to me now, I could feel her breath, warm and sweet, on my face. The darkness hid her expression, but I didn’t need to see her. I had memorized every angle, every soft inch of skin, the color of her eyes. I remembered how she had tasted, too. I moved closer. I had to….
Click.
Shit. I knew that sound. Either the killer had come after Abigail or we had woken lover boy up. I put my hand on my holster, pulled the strap free, and breathed words into Abigail’s ear. In case, the perp shot, I covered her body with mine, but supported my weight with the hand not on my Glock so I could keep my mind on whoever may be pointing a gun at us and not on Abigail’s body underneath me.
“Call for Weilchek.”
“What?” She whispered.
“Say, ‘Darvey, is that you?’”
“Darvey.”
“Louder.”
“Darvey? Is that you?”
A heartbeat. Two. I couldn’t tell if it was my heart or hers I was hearing. Feeling.
“Yeah, babe. Everything okay? Why aren’t you in bed?” Weilchek’s voice reached us through the dark.
I nudged her to answer.
“I couldn’t sleep. I was watching TV.”
Another sound which could have been him disengaging his gun.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Goodnight, Darvey.” A shiver went through her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Soft footsteps on carpet. His door shut. I blew out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Still I waited to be sure. No sound but the two of us breathing. I snapped the holster strap, rolled to the side and got to my feet. I held my hand down to her. She took it and stood up as well.
“You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
I grinned relief running through me. “Does he know you think sleeping with him’s a joke?”
She tugged at my hand, but I wouldn’t let go. “We’re friends. He’s been very good to me.”
Yeah. Right. Darvy wanted to be friends with her.
I led her into the front room to one corner of the couch, threw an afghan at her, and took the other side.
“The bed’s more comfy,” she murmured.
I snorted. “I can’t trust you in the bedroom by yourself. And I sure as hell can’t trust myself in bed with you. So, kindly be quiet and go to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep here.”
“That makes two of us.”
She threw the blanket aside and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“The bathroom. Hopefully, I won’t get shot by you or Darvey before I return to the couch.”
“We’re not the bad guys, Abigail.”
“No, but there’s enough testosterone in this house to run the watercolor prints on Mrs. Weilchek’s walls. The waving guns make me uneasy.”
With that parting shot, she padded out of the room. While she was gone, I slid the Glock under the couch, grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under my head. In moments, she returned to the room and to the recliner. I pulled my legs up and stretched across the couch cushions.
“Promise me you won’t leave the room without telling me.”
“Won’t you know?”
“Just in case I fall asleep. Please, will you promise?”
“Okay, Scott.”
I loved hearing my name on her lips. It was a nice sound to fall asleep to. Sometime after that, she moved from the recliner and sidled up against me. I threw the back cushions off, pulled her to the inside of the couch, spooned her to me, and to my great surprise fell asleep again, breathing in that clean girly shampoo.
****
I must have been in a deep sleep because the next thing I knew Weilchek was shaking my shoulder and gesturing for me to follow him. I stuck my head into Abigail’s neck, took one last whiff, and got up. In a kitchen that would put Norman Rockwell to shame, I sat down at a quaint table while Weilchek poured coffee in a cup placed before me. He sat across the table, picked up his own cup, and slurped. I expected this to be when he explained in civilized terms that Abigail is his and if he caught me and her on the couch again, he’d castrate me. At the very least I wondered if he’d laced my coffee with some diuretic.
He stared at me until I worked not to squirm.
“I’m supposed to work today. Since you’re here, I won’t have to worry about Abigail. She needs to be at the courthouse by nine unless we hear differently.”
“Okay.” So, what? He trusted me with Abigail? Was he, or was he not, in love with her?
Weilchek didn’t respond. I waited. Still nothing. “Do you know anything about who put the bomb on her porch?”
“No. Special Agent Travers said she would call me if they found anything definite.”
I sighed. We thought we had the worst of the gang. How could we have missed a bomb builder? I looked at Weilchek, really looked at him. He had a cut next to his eye and the flesh around it was black.
“What happened to your eye?”
“She kicked my ass, man.”
“Who?”
“Special Agent Travers. When I thought it was a bomb, I called the ATF, and they came swarming out there. I had walked around the back of the building, and when I stepped around a corner, I saw this woman’s high heeled shoe coming right at me. She kicked me so hard, I fell back and she pounced. She had me on my face and in cuffs within ten seconds.”
Poor guy. “Yeah, she took me down last night at the airport.”
“I’m thinking about asking her out if she’s not involved with anybody. Do you know?” His self-deprecating smile morphed into a leer. “She’s pretty hot.”
“What about you and Abigail?”
“You ask me that after you’ve slept with her on the couch?” He shook his head and laughed. I smiled in response. Maybe Weilchek wasn’t so bad after all.
“There’s sleeping, and there’s sleeping.”
“Yeah, I hear that. No, man. Early on, I knew it wasn’t going to happen with us. She was too intent on finding Eli. Who can compete with a guy who r
uns into a burning building to save kids?”
“Maybe some guy who takes care of his granny and rescues a woman from getting blown to bits on her front porch.”
He broke eye contact and examined the porcelain salt shaker in the center of the table. I sat in a comfortable silence and decided my compliment had embarrassed him.
“Delia Travers is divorced. I don’t think she’s seeing anybody right now. I’m supposed to have a daily check with her. Want me to see if I can get her out here tonight for it?”
He gestured to the dainty shaker in his hand and to the room. “I don’t think my house is going to make her want to drop her panties.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. You put those gun and ammo magazines in just the right places, and you might be surprised.”
Darvey grinned. “I’ve never had a woman knock me flat like that. I can’t quit thinking about her.”
I laughed so hard tears spurted from my eyes as I thought about hard ass Delia Travers getting all cozy with Darvis Weilchek.
Chapter Eleven
“Nervous?” I asked.
“Not really. You?”
“Why should I be nervous? I don’t have to get on the witness stand.”
She sat at the table in the law library room that we’d visited already. The first time when I had kissed her against the wall, the second time when she had roughed me up so bad mentally Delia had reassigned me. We were stuck here until the bailiff came to get her.
“You’re acting nervous,” she commented as I paced the length of the room.
“I’m not.”
“You are. I’ll be okay. As soon as I testify, everything will be okay.” Confidence filled her tone.
I perched on the edge of the table and studied her.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well,” she shrugged. “I will have said what I know, put Ford Daniels at the scene. He goes to jail, and I’ll be safe.”
I shook my head at her naivety. “Except you’re forgetting one thing. Ford Daniels isn’t the one who put the bomb on your porch. He’s been in jail all this time.”
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