by Ana Leigh
“What’s going to happen between us is inevitable. And you can’t stop it, Trish, any more than I can.”
His lips were firm and warm, and her body tingled under the pressure. At first she responded out of curiosity—and then out of need as the kiss deepened. Rising passion sparked her desire like a flame to dry wood, sending an exquisite liquid warmth surging through her, flooding her senses and loins.
And from that first, rapturous kiss, Trish knew she was his forever.
“Where do we go from here?”
His voice snapped her out of her reverie. “I beg your pardon?”
“The address, Trish.”
“Don’t you remember the way?”
“Why would I?…You mean it’s the same apartment we…” He cut off what he was about to say.
“Yes it is.” Trish was too wrapped in her own problems to give much notice to his. Nothing like being jolted from an erotic daydream just when she was getting to the good part.
She gave him a disgruntled look and hunched down in the seat.
Six years and the place looked exactly the same to Dave. Maybe a few different names on the mailboxes, but even the carpeting and color of the paint was the same.
As they rode up in the elevator, he thought of how often they’d steal a kiss or fondle each other on the way up to their floor.
The hall’s walls and carpeting might have been the same, but when they entered the apartment there was a big change.
Everything in the living room was a contrast in black and white, from black painted patterns on the white walls to low-slung black leather couches and ottomans against white carpeting.
She went over to a shiny ebony end table, and leaned down to press a concealed lever. A panel sprung open, revealing the combination dial of a safe.
“So when did you have a safe installed?” Dave asked as he glanced around.
“Robert had it built right after we were married. He was quite paranoid, actually.”
“Judging from the way he died, he might have had good cause to be.”
Intrigued, Dave walked over to examine it. The metal safe was entirely boxed within the wooden cabinet built to match the veneer and pattern of several such tables in the room. Unless you were aware of it, one would never suspect a safe was concealed within it.
“Inventive,” he said.
“Very! Actually, there was nothing pedestrian about Robert. His theory was, ‘everyone looks behind the pictures on the wall for a safe, but would never think that it’d be right next to the couch.’” She began to spin the dial on the safe.
What the hell am I doing here? The question repeated over and over in his head as she worked the combination of the safe’s lock. The whole scene was surreal to him, like an out-of-body experience. The art deco furniture and decorations only added to the irrational imagery, but this was still the same building…same apartment that he and Trish had shared.
Her father had harped at them for not investing in a condo or house. They had decided to hold off until after they were married. Considering the breakup that followed, it had been a good decision.
Whatever he looked at conjured up an image of a past memory: a barefoot Trish frying bacon and eggs on a Sunday morning wearing a frilly bib apron with only a pair of black silk panties and bra underneath it.
The two of them cuddled on the couch in the den watching television.
The living-room floor where they’d “christened” the apartment the day they moved in.
He avoided looking toward the bedroom they had once shared. The thought of her in bed with Manning made him break a sweat.
Let it go, Cassidy. It’s all in the past. Keep it there where it belongs. You’re no longer that same person and neither is she.
Maybe seeing Trish again was a good thing. Perhaps it would make him face the issue once and for all and rid himself of the haunting memories.
“They’re gone!” Trish exclaimed.
“Or soon will be, I hope,” he replied with determination.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly.
For God’s sake, Cassidy, stay focused.
“The diamonds are gone. There’s no sign of the pouch.”
“So much for the diamonds. Manning either disposed of them or had them with him when he was murdered. It’s the Agency’s problem to figure it out. Let’s get the hell out of here, Trish.”
They had no more pulled out when his cell phone beeped.
“We’re holding up the card game waiting for you,” Mike Bishop said.
“I’m on my way.” Dave hung up. It was the code between them to call in the squad.
“I have to go. You can drop me off at the next corner. I’ll flag a cab.”
“I can take you home, Dave.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” she said.
Trish pulled over and he got out. “If I were you, I’d let Baker and Bishop know about this latest development with the diamonds.”
“I will. Thanks for your help, Dave.”
As she drove away, a Crown Victoria followed her. He recognized the two detectives, MacPherson and Brady, as it drove past. So the police had tailed them tonight. That meant Trish was still under suspicion.
Well at least with the cops following her, he’d know she’d make it home safely.
I wonder if the call was from a woman?
Trish pondered the thought as she drove away. He’d certainly jumped to attention when it had come in. She had to put him out of her mind. In the times they’d interacted in the past few days, Dave had made his feelings clear to her. He’d gone on with his life, while she had wallowed in the thought of what might have been.
If only they had had a child together. She would have someone to love and cherish the rest of her life—a living reminder of the only man she could ever love. Now that would never be.
Maybe she shouldn’t give up so easily. Maybe she could spark a reminder in him of how great it had been when they’d been together. Perhaps she could somehow convince him she hadn’t stooped to the level he thought she had. Every time he looked at her with loathing, it was like a knife thrust.
Yet, he’d called her Trish tonight instead of Mrs. Manning. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Just maybe his guard was starting to slip.
Maybe when all this horrendous nightmare was over, Robert’s murder resolved…maybe then they could at least become friends.
She never noticed the car that drove slowly past as she turned into the driveway.
Dave couldn’t sleep. He glanced around the plane and saw the rest of the squad was asleep except for Addison. The kid was still green. Give him a couple more missions and he’d learn to grab a few hours of shuteye when he had the chance.
Five hours ago he was with Trish, now here he was on a plane headed for Sri Lanka on a mission to go in and rescue an agent who’d been snatched by a rebel group demanding ransom.
He pulled out a map and turned on a flashlight to read it. Try as he might, he couldn’t get Trish out of his mind. He couldn’t keep being with her and keep his hands off her. But he knew for sure that the moment he gave in they’d be back in the same rut—facing the same problem that had torn them apart—Henry Hunter.
Maybe by the time they got back, Manning’s murder would be resolved. If the police didn’t solve it, the Agency was sure to. And there was no doubt in his mind that Henry Hunter would be involved in the murder somehow. And that would break her heart. But whether Henry was guilty or not, no matter what the outcome it would always be the same catch-22 for him and Trish.
But right now he had to concentrate on the mission. There were lives at stake here, which was of far more importance than the fate of Henry Hunter.
Dave once again returned his attention to the map before him.
Chapter 7
Dave finished his debriefing and was in his car about to leave headquarters when his cell phone rang. It was Mike Bis
hop calling him back.
“What now?” he grumbled, after hanging up. He was tired. Had not slept in over forty-eight hours, and only sparingly prior to that, due to this situation with Trish.
The mission had been successful, they’d gotten the agent out, but the rescue had turned into a bloody fire-fight. Rick Williams had taken a round in the arm and Pete Bledsoe had suffered a shoulder wound.
“Sit down, Dave,” Mike said. Dave knew the tone. Bishop was pissed. “How’re Bledsoe and Williams?”
“Surface wounds. Could have been worse. They’ll be laid up for a week or so.”
Then he lashed out with what was on his own mind.
“Not more than a dozen rebels! Where in hell did that come from? The place was swarming with armed guards. We were outgunned about twenty to one and were lucky to get out of there with just two men wounded.”
“I’m sorry, Dave. Intel sure blew this one. But that’s not why I called you in here. Why didn’t you tell me you knew Patricia Manning when I briefed you for the North Africa mission?”
“She was Patricia Hunter when I knew her. I had no idea she was Manning’s wife. I’d had no contact with her since we broke up six years ago.”
“You’ve had plenty of time to tell me since then.”
“You talked to Detective MacPherson the other day. That’s why they were questioning me.”
“It would have helped if you’d told me about Manning’s wife. The detectives showed up here yesterday and cold-cocked me with that information. You’re a suspect in Manning’s murder.”
“Yeah, I know. I gave them my statement a couple of days ago. I’d hoped they’d have the damn thing solved by now.”
“Well, they don’t.” He stood up. “We’re due in Baker’s office.”
When they entered Dave got a shock that zapped the tiredness right out of him: Trish was seated in one of the chairs.
“Sit down, gentlemen,” Baker said. “Good job on the mission, Agent Cassidy.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dave said, drawing up a chair.
“You know Mrs. Manning, of course,” Baker said, casting a discerning glance in Dave’s direction.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then shall we cut to the chase?” Baker said. “Agent Cassidy, as you know, the Agency is anxious to capture Colin McDermott. Our theory is that McDermott and Manning were in some kind of an alliance that involved funding the IRA. Your raid obviously interrupted their transaction. We believe McDermott followed Robert Manning to D.C.”
“Mrs. Manning has told you about the diamonds,” Dave said.
“Yes. McDermott is either after them or sold them to Manning and did not receive payment for them.”
“Did Mrs. Manning tell you the diamonds are missing now?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Well, then, maybe he’s got what he wants.”
“We are confident he doesn’t. We do, however, believe he is the one who murdered Manning because of it.”
Dave’s money was on Henry Hunter, but he wasn’t about to introduce that theory.
“We have devised a plan to draw him out,” Baker continued. “Mrs. Manning has agreed to help us.”
Dave glanced in surprise at Trish. Any plan of Baker’s would clearly put her at risk. Her usually expressive face now appeared enigmatic.
He couldn’t help wondering what thoughts were going through that head of hers. She always had a quick and intelligent mind. Her conversations often challenged and stimulated him.
“Mrs. Manning,” Dave asked, “are you aware you’ll be a decoy?”
“Yes, I am,” she said.
“May I ask why you would put yourself at risk?”
“I don’t know, Dave. Indirectly, I feel involved. I’d like to clear up my own conscience and any suspicion you all might have regarding me.”
He felt pity for her. Was she so naive that she couldn’t see that her actions might do more than just draw out McDermott? When the whole truth was known, she could be incriminating her own father.
“And we intend to give her all the protection necessary. That’s where you and your squad come in, Agent Cassidy,” Baker said, turning back to him. “Since Agents Bledsoe and Williams are recuperating, we are assigning the remaining squad to this duty.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Well, not quite. Suppose you explain it to him, Mr. Bishop.”
Mike’s culpable glance gave Dave an uneasy feeling. What the hell had they cooked up now?
“Dave, since you and Mrs. Manning were previously engaged, we thought it would be effective, and would perhaps speed up the outcome, to have the two of you appear together publicly. The more visible you are, the sooner it might draw out McDermott if he thinks Mrs. Manning has the diamonds.”
“What do you mean by visible, Mike?”
“You know…appear everywhere together. Dinner, theater, et cetera. You could begin tomorrow by attending Manning’s funeral.”
Dave couldn’t believe it. “Are you all out of your minds? Your plans would make us more suspicious than ever in the eyes of the police.” He swung his attention to Trish. “Were you aware this is what they had in mind?” She nodded.
Dave shook his head. “Do you know what people will think and say behind your back? My God, Trish, they’ll believe you and I have been having an affair all this time.”
“My good friends know differently, Dave. I don’t care what others might say.”
“We can explain it all once the case is solved, Dave,” Mike said.
“Hate to play devil’s advocate to this ridiculous idea, but what if McDermott didn’t kill Manning? What if McDermott got what he came for? And what if the case is never solved?”
Dave turned to Trish. “You see what you’re getting yourself into. You’re putting your life in danger, jeopardizing your reputation and you could remain under suspicion the rest of your life if your husband’s murder isn’t solved.”
“He’s right, Mrs. Manning,” Bishop said. “Think carefully, because if you still agree to do it, you cannot reveal these plans to anyone…your father, your best friend or your childhood nanny if you have one. You and Dave will have to appear as two lovers who have resumed a relationship.”
“I’ve thought it over, gentlemen. I know what I’m doing,” Trish said.
“Do I have anything to say about this?” Dave declared.
Baker cast Dave a disgruntled frown. “‘Yes, sir,’ would be appropriate, Agent Cassidy.”
Dave threw up his hands in defeat. It was useless to argue. Everyone’s mind was already made up.
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well, then I think we all understand the situation,” Baker said. “Agent Cassidy, will you be kind enough to drive Mrs. Manning to wherever she wishes? The two of you can work out how you intend to proceed.” He broke into a crooked grin. “It’s a tough assignment, Dave, but the Agency has confidence in your ability to execute it.”
Dave was silent as they left the building and headed to his car. He had to walk off some of his anger before he tried to say another word. Fortunately she knew him well enough to remain silent until he did.
“Where to?” he asked as they buckled up.
“You can drop me off at the apartment. I’ve been packing up Robert’s belongings.”
“And what’s the schedule for tomorrow?”
“Just a private memorial. His uncle, my father, his secretary, several of the firm’s top brass, Robert’s lawyer and a couple of my closest friends will be the only ones in attendance.”
“And a gaggle of uninvited reporters and gawkers.”
“I can’t do anything about that, so don’t blame me.”
“Why in hell did you agree to this arrangement?” he said as he wove through traffic.
“I explained that in Mr. Baker’s office. I feel I should do something.”
“Did you tell Baker about our past relationship?”
“I told Mr. Bishop.”
“Why?”
“As I told you the other day, Dave, I felt telling the truth would avoid any further awkward situations between us.”
“It sure worked,” he scoffed.
“So I’ve made another mistake. Seems like that’s all I do. One disaster after another. What would I do without all you Monday-morning quarterbacks reminding me of what I’ve done wrong?”
He was too tired to argue and was silent the rest of the way. When they reached the apartment, he got out and went inside with her.
“Since you’re under my protection now, I’ll check out your apartment before I leave. As soon as the squad gets some sleep, we’ll keep a man on you at all times. Until we do, don’t open the door to anyone.”
“Dave, there’s nothing to worry about. You know this is a secure building.”
“There’s no such thing as a secure building,” he said, and followed her into the elevator.
Several half-filled cartons were scattered in various rooms. Dave checked out the closets and any other place someone could hide. Satisfied, he sat down on the couch while Trish looked up the address of the chapel where Robert’s memorial would be held.
“You were busy while I was gone,” he said, glancing around at the place. All of Manning’s personal articles had all been removed or packed.
“I know. I have a painter coming in next week, and I’m replacing all the furniture.”
“Even the safe?” he said.
“Especially the safe. It would be a constant reminder of Robert if I held on to it.”
As she paged through the telephone book Trish glanced over at Dave. He had leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. Her heart ached for him.
It had been a rough mission, she could tell by his body language that he was physically exhausted. She quickly wrote down the address and closed the book.
“Here it is.”
When he didn’t respond, she moved nearer and saw that he had fallen asleep.
Gazing down at him, Trish felt a surge of motherly nurturing. She wanted to tuck him in bed, cover him up and let him sleep peacefully. She suppressed the smile that tugged at her lips.
Right, Trish! If you had Dave in bed again mothering him would be the furthest thought from your mind.