Worth the Trip

by Penny McCall

  She came back down a couple minutes later. “My dad is settled into the guest room closest to the stairs. You can use the other one—the one I slept in when you were here before.”

  Trip let that go. That didn’t mean he agreed with her, but he wasn’t willing to make a big deal of it until he saw how the rest of their conversation went. “You know he’s not telling the truth,” he said. “Hell, he’s rewriting history as he goes along.”

  Norah sank onto the sofa. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  “Norah—”

  “He said pretty much the same about you, Trip, and you’ve admitted that finding the loot is your top priority, so what am I supposed to do?”

  “At least I’ve been truthful.”

  “And he’s my father.”

  “Exactly. You know what he’s capable of.”

  “I knew what he was capable of fifteen years ago.

  Now he’s just a sick old man.” She held up a hand. “I know you’re angry.”

  “Not at you.”

  “A little at me.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, a little at you.”

  She pushed off the couch and crossed the room, resting a hand lightly on his chest as she stretched up to kiss him, softly, just her lips touching his, all it took for his irritation to disappear.

  “Thank you,” she said, stepping back.

  And he let her.

  chapter 21

  PUFF WAS RESTING IN ONE OF THE SPARE BEDROOMS. Norah was showering in the bath she’d had added to the master bedroom. Trip prowled the house, pissed off and feeling trapped. He didn’t know what to do about the loot, and he didn’t know what to do about Norah.

  He’d wanted to take that kiss deeper, but there was an invisible line he had to honor, even though Puff wouldn’t hesitate to use her feelings to his advantage—

  “Hey.”

  Norah’s shout had Trip racing up the stairs in time to see her father pulling the master bedroom door shut.

  He jumped about a mile when he saw Trip at the head of the stairs. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, boy, what are you doing skulking about the place like a sneak thief?”

  “Funny, I was just about to ask you that.”

  “I only wanted a quick peek.” He sighed eloquently. “I’ve fond memories of that room.”

  “Do you?”

  “Believe it or not, I love my daughter, and I loved her mother.”

  “Let’s get something straight. I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

  Some of the affability and false, to Trip’s view, sentimentality fell away from Lucius’s mask. “Since we’re talking plain, I don’t much care for the way you’re treating my girl.”

  “I’m treating your girl just the way she wants to be treated. We both know she wouldn’t accept anything less.”

  “Don’t count your chickens, son. When push comes to shove, Norah will side with family.”

  “And you’re the only family she has?” Trip shook his head. “Family is important to her, but honesty is even more important. She’ll do what’s right.”

  “Because you’re romancing her? I see the way she looks at you.” Puff’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re not just playing a game, are you boy?”

  “I’ve been completely honest with Norah about my motivations. Can you say the same?”

  “Of course not, but I will say my Norah is no fool. She knows I want the loot, and she knows why.”

  “Right, because you’re feeling regret in your old age, and you want to atone for your sins by returning the items to their rightful owners.”

  “I’m not saying there wouldn’t be something in it for me, but at least I’m trying to do what’s right. You can’t say the same about the FBI. It’s an organization that puts a con man like me to shame, the way it uses people and exploits weaknesses. And I wonder now, how many secrets are there to be exploited in a cache of loot that includes safe-deposit box contents from some of the wealthiest and most influential men in Chicago?”

  “This city has always been a power source, and the Bureau wants to tap in,” Trip said with a shrug, not about to get drawn into a philosophical argument about who was right and who was wrong.

  “So why don’t we work together?” Lucius said. “Once we find the loot, you can trundle back to Washington with the papers and your people can ferret out all the juicy tidbits and wreak havoc with them. None of us will get what we want unless we stop this pussyfooting around and work together.”

  Trip snorted. “Did you miss the part about me not trusting you?”

  Lucius grinned, a seemingly guileless smile so like Norah’s it caught Trip off guard, until he remembered that Norah’s was guileless. Puff’s was just another con.

  Norah pulled open the bedroom door, jerking back when she saw them standing there. “What’s going on?”

  “Just having a conversation,” Trip said.

  “About you,” Lucius added.

  Norah rolled her eyes. “Whatever’s going on, leave me out of it. I can take care of myself.”

  “Of course you can, darlin’,” Puff said, kissing her on the cheek.

  Trip could only stand there and watch. Even if he let Puff goad him into a competition for Norah’s affections, a public display in front of her father would only make her uncomfortable.

  “I’m feeling peckish,” Puff said, laying a hand on his stomach.

  “Well I’m starving,” Norah said.

  “What do you say we go whip up some scrambled eggs and toast, like we used to do when you were a little girl. Remember?”

  Norah smiled, a little sadly. “Whenever you were home Mama would sleep in on Saturday morning, and you’d make me breakfast.”

  “Aye, she had a way of knowing when to leave us to our own shenanigans, didn’t she?” Puff said in his best Irish brogue.

  Norah’s eyes were misty. Trip was rolling his.

  They started off, but Norah stopped at the head of the stairs and looked back at Trip. “Are you coming?”

  “Of course,” Lucius said expansively, “you’re welcome to join us.”

  “You two go ahead and have your memories. I’ll grab something later.” He went into the spare room where Norah had slept before and plopped down on the bed, lifting his right butt cheek to pull the package Law had taken delivery on, about the size and shape of a book, from beneath it. He tossed it onto the dresser, then decided to take a shower because what he wanted to do was lie down, and if he did that he wouldn’t get back up for eight or ten hours, and he was serious about keeping Puff in his sights.

  He hadn’t counted on Norah.

  Lucius was working hard to ingratiate himself, and Norah was eating it up. But Trip couldn’t work up a good case of resentment any more than he could spare much concern over Puff’s antics.

  Trip’s mind was filled with Norah, animated, laughing, her eyes shining, taking her from cool and attractive to warm and pretty, someone he could imagine across the dinnertable, walking with through the park, in his bed . . .

  Whoa. He took a huge mental step back. Sex was an acceptable reaction, as long as it didn’t distract him from the op. It was the other stuff that posed a problem, especially that one about walking through the park, since in his imagination they were holding hands. He didn’t do that stuff, the holding hands, the sending flowers, the deep and meaningful conversations, the cuddling after sex. Happily ever after was for other people. Handy, since Norah made it clear she understood that about him.

  So why did her pragmatism irritate him?

  WHEN HER BEDROOM DOOR OPENED AROUND midnight, Norah played dead. It wasn’t Lucius, since he’d left only moments before after keeping her up for two hours, reminiscing from the armchair in what had once been her mother’s room, but was now hers. And it couldn’t be another intruder sneaking into her room, since unauthorized presences were announced by what sounded like World War II air raid sirens loud enough to wake the entire populace of England, Wales, Scotland, an
d Ireland. That left Trip.

  Trip had been bursting to get her alone all evening, but not in a good way.

  “Norah?” he said in a whisper, not touching her, which meant he already knew she was awake. And then he said four words that no woman ever wanted to hear from a man. “We need to talk.”

  “Will you marry me?” were words women wanted to hear from men. “I’ll do the dishes” was good and “Did you lose weight?” was always a winner. “We need to talk” was conversational purgatory for women. Men were not verbal creatures. When a man wanted to talk there was bad news coming. If they’d been any other couple she’d be steeling herself for the we-can-still-be-friends discussion. Since they weren’t together in the usual sense of together, there wasn’t a breakup in the offing. Then again, if he couldn’t relax and trust her, there might be.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on her hip. “Are you asleep?” he asked her, which she’d always thought was a ridiculous question.

  “If I was asleep I couldn’t tell you I was asleep.”

  “You could keep pretending and not answer me.”

  “Go away, I’m tired.”

  “You slept in the car, why are you so cranky?”

  She sat up. “Are you serious?”

  “It’s the middle of the night. I’ve had about three hours of sleep in the last two days, so yeah, I’m serious.”

  “You’re the one who wants to talk.”

  “I think we need to.”

  “No, we really don’t.” She knew what he wanted to say, and she was tired of talking about the loot, tired of thinking about it. Tired of thinking period.

  She rose to her knees and kissed him, and it was hard and a little angry. She just wanted to let go, get out of her head with all the craziness running around there and forget, for a little while, that she was being torn in two directions by two men with two different agendas, both of which she could further. And both of whom she loved.

  If Trip was going to use her, she should at least get to decide the manner, and while she knew that wasn’t rational, right here, right now, she was going to have her way. With him.

  Not that he was objecting. He was all heat and hardness, meeting her kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he worked his hands up under her sleep shirt and stripped her panties down to her knees. Norah laughed breathlessly as she fell onto her butt so he could take them off completely, her breath shuddering back in as Trip pressed her into the feather bed on top of her mattress.

  She reached for him but he held her off, bending to kiss her again, just his mouth on hers, a deep kiss that ended with him catching her bottom lip between his teeth. She shuddered, tried to pull him on top of her again, needing more contact, needing him in her, filling the emptiness. And not just in a physical sense.

  Having her father back in her life should have been a happy event, but in all her daydreams of this moment she’d never imagined the possibility he’d lie to her, use her. Even if it was for altruistic reasons. She needed peace, just a few moments of peace. But Trip refused to oblige her, holding her off while he removed her shirt and his boxers, staking her hands by her head when she reached for him again. He laid his mouth on hers, sliding it down her neck and the slope of her breast to take one nipple into his mouth, drawing hard. Every muscle and nerve ending pulsing as he slid his fingers into her at the same time.

  And then he was gone again. Just that one amazing crescendo of pleasure and Trip was back to foreplay.

  “Please,” she said, suddenly hating foreplay. She wanted to be exhausted. She wanted a nice sweaty wrestling match ending with the mother of all orgasms. And if that didn’t do it, they’d go for it again. Trip could handle it. He’d need a few minutes in between, but he could definitely handle it. That thought was all the foreplay she needed.

  “What’s going on with you?” he said, lifting his head to peer into her face in the darkness when what he was doing to her didn’t get a reaction. “You’re all tensed up.”

  “No talking,” she said, shoving him over and pouncing on top of him. “No talking, no thinking, and no foreplay.”

  “Every man’s fantasy,” he said, groaning as she took him in, hot and hard, filling her body and fuzzing her mind.

  His hands were strong at her hips, his body surging up as she pressed down, his face tight as they took each other. She came in a rush that started low in her belly and spread outward until her whole body throbbed with it, and she moaned and wrapped her arms around herself as she sank down beside him, body and mind in a pleasant haze until he said, “Not so fast,” and loomed over her, and she realized he hadn’t gone with her, that the tight expression on his face had been him holding back.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he said, his voice low and soft in the darkness, “and it’s not like I object to being used like this, but—”

  “You’re talking again,” Norah said.

  “And there’s going to be more foreplay, so brace yourself.”

  Brace yourself must have meant emotionally because Trip twined his fingers with hers and kissed her again, another long slow kiss that was more than his mouth on hers, it was him cherishing her. She was acting a little crazy, and it must have thrown him, but any other man would have gone with it, especially since he was getting what he wanted.

  Trip kissed her and waited for her to kiss him back. And she gave herself to him again, this time wholeheartedly. What else could she do when he was being so patient and . . . She wouldn’t call it loving, but it seemed as if he cared for her beyond her usefulness to his job.

  So she let go of everything but him, put herself into the moment, feeling the pleasure blossom low again as his mouth moved to her breasts, as his hands skimmed down her ribs, as he slipped into her again and every cell in her body came alive. Her skin tingled, her breath sighed out, and she began to move with him, the climax stealing up on her slowly this time, washing over her in gentler waves that were no less amazing, with her heart adding more weight to the moment than any physical sensation could have, and Trip joining her this time when she went over the edge.

  Trip flopped to one side and she groaned, missing the weight of his body on hers. It made her feel safe and comforted, pushing away the unreality of the whole situation that had made her feel like she was having a really long out-of-body experience. She definitely knew she was in her body right now, especially when he gathered her close, his front to her back, and pulled the covers over them.

  His breathing slowed as he settled against her, and Norah fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her and troubles of the morning far away.

  chapter 22

  TRIP WAS SLEEPING THE KIND OF SLEEP THAT A man with his job rarely got, deep, dreamless, blissful. Norah was warm against him, the house was secure—

  And the alarm was going off. He whipped out of bed, Norah right behind him, just as the bedroom door began to swing open.

  Trip grabbed the doorknob and jerked, getting a glimpse of a tall man in a Robin mask, stumbling off balance before he let go of the doorknob on the other side, caught his footing, and turned to run.

  “Stay here,” Trip ordered Norah. “I mean it. And no weapons.”

  He set off after the Boy Wonder, who knocked Lucius down as he stepped out of the spare room at the top of the stairway and fell right into Trip’s path. Trip was running full-out, so he couldn’t hurtle over the old con man without momentum taking him into the open stairwell, and he couldn’t stop, so he threw himself sideways into the wall, twisting so he didn’t fall on top of Norah’s father and crush him to death. It would have solved a big problem, but he’d probably never find the loot without Lucius. Norah would be pretty upset, too.

  He went down in a tangle, popped back up to his feet, and raced down the stairs two at a time to find himself at the open doorway, watching the same kid in the same Robin mask race down the sidewalk, appearing under the streetlights and disappearing in the gloom between. He wasn’t running very fast.
Trip figured he could catch him and get some answers.

  If he wasn’t naked.

  And if Norah wasn’t upstairs keeping an eye on her old man, who would walk all over her without a second thought or a hint of guilt.

  He shut the door and reset the alarm before he headed upstairs. Sure enough, Puff was sitting in the easy chair in the master bedroom, trying to get Norah to pour him a shot of whiskey.

  “I don’t keep alcohol up here, Lucius,” she was saying.

  “Just nip downstairs and get me some,” Lucius said with a little laugh.

  “Trip told me to stay put.”

  Lucius made a rude noise. “You’ll be taking orders from him now?”

  “No,” Trip said as he stepped into the room. “She knows the value of teamwork, and her part of the deal in cases like this is to stay out of my way so I don’t have to worry about her getting hurt.”

  “What are you doing here?” Lucius demanded, shifting around to glare at him. “Why didn’t you go after that bastard?”

  Trip looked down, figuring the reason was obvious.

  “Some FBI agent you are,” Lucius grumbled, his brogue getting thicker with agitation. “Someone breaks in here, intent on doing mischief, and you were busy taking advantage of the situation instead of doing your job. Or is your intimacy with my daughter intended to imply some sort of commitment that will continue after you’ve gotten what you want?”

  Trip crossed the room and retrieved his boxers, stepping into them.

  “Well? You’re not going to answer my question?”

  “No,” Norah said, “he’s not. I’m over thirty, Lucius, I’m not your little girl anymore. I never really was.”

  “Of course you were—”

  “Listen to me,” she said, crossing the room to kneel by his chair. “I’ve been on my own since Mama died when I was eighteen. I kept this house, and got myself through college, and dated and worked and survived.”