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It felt good to be part of an Op again. Mal surveyed Force. He was a decent guy. Smart. And, more importantly, he’d have Mal’s back. “This bar. You’re sure I’ll make contact?”

  “Yes. Our source will make sure they’re at Blue’s to recruit today. She’ll be with at least two other members, and she’ll try not to be the one to make contact. You saw her picture. Name is Orchid.” Force exited the interstate into rolling hills and sparse trees.

  “This Orchid. What’s her story?” They hadn’t had time to get into it with all the other information to go over in such a short time.

  “Boyfriend dumped her in her forties and she joined the cult. Thought it was fun at first and had that great feeling. Then realized she was being drugged sometimes, and a friend of hers was raped and then overdosed on heroine.” Force took a left turn onto a quiet street. “Orchid called the ex-boyfriend, who happened to be a buddy of mine and a retired agent at the FBI. Went a little nutty and had to retire, so doesn’t have much pull. We took it from there about four months ago. She’s tough, man. Smart and determined.”

  It was now Mal’s job to keep her alive.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?” Force slowed down at a small gas station that needed fresh paint and faced him, his gaze intense.

  “Yes.” Mal checked his earbud. With his hair longer, it was easy to keep it hidden. “I’ll be in touch.” Jumping out of the truck, he tucked his hands in his ripped jeans and ducked his head against the wind. The walk to the bar took ten minutes.

  Blue’s had a pothole-riddled dirt parking lot, a few dented trucks scattered around, and bullet holes in the door. Nice. He opened it and moved inside the dark interior.

  The smell of old beer and worn leather smashed into him. This was a bar made for drinking. Two guys sat on barstools at different sides of the bar, one with his head down and the other looking straight ahead. Low-lying tables were scattered throughout, and dartboards hung haphazardly from a far wall. The walls looked like cheap velvet wallpaper that had been ripped in several places.

  Mal chose a damaged stool in the middle.

  The bartender, a mammoth of a man with a bald head and a gold tooth, sauntered his way. “Drink?”

  “Jack with ice. Triple,” Mal said, avoiding eye contact.

  The bartender grabbed a glass and poured. “Want to run a tab?”

  Mal nodded and tipped back the drink, taking it all. He shoved the glass forward. “Another.”

  The bartender poured.

  This time Mal rolled the liquid around in the glass, staring at it. His insides had already warmed, and his limbs felt looser. He sipped for a while as a crowd started to make its way in. A surprising number of people started drinking early. Construction workers, loners, a couple of guys in suits. After his second repour, he caught sight of Orchid.

  She was with two other women and a man, all dressed in white or beige linen. They sat at a table and ordered blended drinks. Then they started working the crowd.

  It was impressive. Flirting and chatting, they managed to get a bead on people quickly. They moved with apparent ease from the ones he would’ve guessed weren’t interested to those who looked down on their luck.

  The guy was the first to approach him. He ordered a drink next to Mal.

  “Hi,” the guy said.

  Mal nodded, staring at the remainder of his drink.

  “I’m Tree,” the guy said.

  Mal looked up as if in surprise. “Tree? Your name is Tree?”

  The guy had blue eyes, longish blond hair, and capped teeth. Had to be about twenty. Smelled like money even in the plain clothing. “Yeah. I have a natural affinity with the elements. Tree fits.”

  All righty. Tree also had dilated pupils and was high on something other than just life. “Mal. Name is Mal.” He focused back on the tempting liquid.

  “You look like a guy who needs a friend,” Tree said, accepting his beer.

  Mal snorted. “I had to shoot the last guy I called a friend.” He shifted his weight enough that his jacket opened and revealed his gun, this one a Ruger. “You want to leave me alone, Tree.” He downed the rest of his drink and gestured for the bartender to refill him.

  The bartender poured and then paused. His hand went below the counter. “You can’t have a gun in a bar.”

  Mal stiffened. “I’m licensed. Ex-cop.” He kept his hand away from his gun and drew out his wallet to flash the permit to carry he’d created that morning. “See?”

  The bartender relaxed but still frowned. “Even so. Keep that thing hidden.”

  Tree cleared his throat.

  Mal turned only his head. “Go away, Tree.”

  The kid nodded and moved on, heading over to a woman in her fifties downing Fireball like her life had just ended. Her pink suit was disheveled and her mascara had run.

  Mal sipped his drink.

  Ten minutes later, a perky blonde sat on the stool next to him. “Excuse me. I can’t find my friend, Leslie. Have you seen a pretty redhead? She has my wallet, and I’d like a drink.”

  Mal slowly turned. The woman had to be around twenty, with big blue eyes and a nearly see-through shirt. He let himself blink a couple of times. “I haven’t seen a redhead named Leslie. Now or ever.” His gaze ran over what had to be considered very nice breasts. “But I could buy you a drink.”

  Her eyes widened. “You could?” She touched his arm, sliding her hand down in a caress. “That would be so nice.”

  Wouldn’t it, though? He nodded to the bartender and turned back to the blonde. That quickly, he was in.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pippa sat at her computer and finished organizing the travel plans for one of her clients. What would it be like to go anywhere she wanted? To not worry about airport security, cameras, and whether her license would hold up to TSA standards?

  The rain had continued all day, and she’d gotten a lot done, trying not to think about Malcolm. When would he get home?

  She had never had a night like that and wasn’t sure how to act.

  Her phone buzzed, and she lifted it to her ear upon recognizing the number. “Trixie. How are you?”

  “Okay. A couple of flashbacks and a nightmare. What about you?” Trixie whispered.

  Four orgasms and a flashback actually. “I’m okay. Wondering if it’s time to move on again.” The idea made her chest hurt. There was no future with Malcolm or anybody else, but that didn’t mean she could just up and leave. What if there was a slice in time for them more than just last night? He definitely deserved somebody whole and not nutty for his future. The guy was a hero. But she could be his present. “I’m not sure what to do.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Trixie lived an hour outside of Minuteville in the other direction. “We stayed away from the cameras, and I’m sure our identities held up. But still, I feel like they’re getting close. You know?”

  Pippa bit her lip. She was feeling the same thing, but a good part of her unease was caused by Malcolm. “Yeah. I think we’re safe, though.”

  Trixie sighed. “Anything new with the sexy cop?”

  “Ex-cop,” Pippa corrected, her body flushing at just the mention. “No.” She wasn’t ready to share.

  “I think it’s great you’re able to, well, you know. See a guy and not freak out.” Pain tinged Trixie’s voice.

  Ice slid into Pippa’s veins. “Isaac didn’t rape me, Trixie. I was spared.” Tears pricked her eyes. “You have a case against him if you ever want it. I’ll testify on your behalf.” The statute of limitations wasn’t up.

  Trixie scoffed. “Like anybody would believe us. And we’d end up in jail, too.”

  Pippa dropped her head. “I know.” She pushed her keyboard toward the computer so she could rest her elbows on the desk. “I sent you a good list of counselors near you. Please tell me you looked one up.”

  “Have you?” Trixie asked. “You weren’t raped, but I think it might’ve been worse for you. You can’t be okay after all that.”

&nbs
p; Bile rose in Pippa’s throat. “I still have online appointments with Dr. Valentine. He’s fantastic, and I wish you’d call him.” Three emails dinged about the travel plans. “I have to go. If you need me, call me. I’ll be right there, Sister.”

  “Ditto.” Trixie hung up.

  Pippa buried herself in work, forgetting all about the past. Night had arrived by the time Malcolm’s truck pulled into his driveway.

  Her heartbeat quickened. She smoothed back her hair and looked down. Blue T-shirt and plain yoga pants. But she’d painted her toenails an electric pink, so she looked somewhat put together. Even so, when his soft rap came on the door, she jumped.

  She almost yelled for him to come in and then remembered she had triple locks on each door. Oh yeah. Okay. Get a grip. Steeling her shoulders, she moved to the door and opened it. “Hi.”

  He held Chinese food in his hands and intensity in his gaze. “Hi. I brought dinner.”

  All of a sudden, she realized she was starving. “I forgot to eat.” Anything actually.

  His dark eyebrows arched. “Then we should fix that.” Cool, crisp air washed in with him. At least it had stopped raining.

  Butterflies wound almost leisurely through her abdomen. A low pull tightened her muscles. She moved aside to let him pass. Why was she so nervous? Oh yeah. Four orgasms in one night.

  He walked past her, paused, and turned. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “Was I too rough last night?” His eyes darkened.

  She shook her head. “No. Just the right amount of rough.”

  His grin lightened something inside her. Something she hadn’t realized was heavy. “I hope I wasn’t too rough on you,” she teased, shutting the door.

  He chuckled and strode with long lengths into the kitchen to deposit the bags of food. “I do have a couple of interesting scratches along my ass.”

  She stopped. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” He unpacked the cartons and looked around before finding dishes.

  Heat infused her face and she hustled for the counter and an open bottle of Cabernet. “Wine?”

  He glanced at the bottle. “Feel free. I’d better stick to water. Had my fill of booze today.”

  She blinked and poured one glass. “I thought you were at work.”

  “I was. Had to meet a guy in a bar and get information from him. Hence a bunch of alcohol I didn’t need.” Mal grabbed utensils and dropped into a chair.

  She took a seat and eyed the food. Unease filtered into her pleasure at having his company. “Are you undercover again?” If he’d gone active, she’d have to leave. It was just too risky to date a detective. She wasn’t that good.

  “No.” He dished out rice and noodles. “Still with requisitions. But I’m working on that form-stealing case.” Tiny lines fanned out from his eyes. Was he tense? Stressed?

  “Oh.” She put a couple of pot stickers on her plate. “I didn’t know forms were so important.”

  He chewed thoughtfully. “Well, just imagine what you can do with forms. Think of the items you can order and then return for money. It can be quite profitable.”

  She swallowed some of the wine, letting it warm her. “You don’t seem like a guy who’d be happy on the sidelines like that,” she murmured. “I saw you in action. You were good.” Really good, or a lot more people would be dead. The thought both intrigued and threatened her.

  He tipped back his water. “Says the enticing woman hiding in a cottage at the end of a long lane.”

  Good point.

  “Speaking of which, how is it you were okay being in that diner?” he asked.

  She finished chewing some spicy chicken. “The restaurant is out of the way and hardly ever very busy. I don’t feel hemmed in, and there’s never a crowd.” Though it had been getting harder and harder to force herself to be around people. She needed to work on that.

  He reached out and lifted her chin with one knuckle. “I should’ve asked. Are you all right? Seeing a shoot-out like that is terrifying, and that wasn’t my first by a long shot, pardon the pun.” His warm finger was gentle, his eyes seeking.

  She took a moment, absurdly touched by his concern. “I was scared, but everything happened so quickly that it was over almost as soon as it started.” Truth be told, her biggest concern had been to keep hidden.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Pippa. I promise.” He removed his hand, but an intensity remained in his expression. A look that took her breath away.

  This was temporary, and she couldn’t rely on that kind of protection. “You don’t need to make me promises.” She probably didn’t deserve them. Those kinds of vows required honesty in exchange.

  “Yet I just did.” He tilted his head. “You can trust me. You know that, right?”

  For the first time in years, she was tempted to tell the full truth. To give him all of herself. But what would that accomplish? The past was in the past, and it had to stay there. “I know.”

  A veil dropped over his eyes and he returned to his food.

  She had the oddest sense that she’d disappointed him, so she struggled to find something to talk about. Anything. “Do you miss being undercover?”

  He paused in the middle of eating. “Not really. I mean, it’s hard to meld your real life with a new, fictional life and then remember it’s not true.” He looked up. “Know what I mean?”

  She shook her head, the movement shaky even to her. “Not really. I’m just me.”

  His smile was smooth and reassuring. “I find you fascinating, and I haven’t gotten in the front door yet. Tell me about your family.”

  She’d forgotten this part about dating, if what they were doing could be called dating. “Oh. Well. My dad was in the army. Died somewhere across the world from here when I was around six years old, and we never really found out how or why.” How different would her life had been if he had lived?

  Mal leaned back. “I’m sorry.” His eyes turned liquid.

  She shrugged. “I don’t remember much about him, to be honest. My mom and I moved around a lot after that, but we didn’t much get along. When I was eighteen, I went out on my own and haven’t looked back.” That was about as truthful as she could get.

  Malcolm frowned. “I thought you said she died in a car accident.”

  Oh God. They’d talked about her mom already. In all the craziness, Pippa had forgotten. “Yeah, she did. After I left home at eighteen.”

  He set down his napkin. “I’m sorry. Can you visit her grave?”

  “No.” Who even knew where her mother was these days? The family liked to move around to find new money and new marks. “I don’t think about her much.” She wished it were possible they weren’t looking for her any longer. “Um, now I remember you saying your folks were deceased and your grandpa raised you.”

  “Yeah. He was an ass.” Mal took another drink of his water. “I had a shrink tell me once that I have abandonment issues. That I push people away.” He shrugged. “But being alone made it possible for me to go undercover several times, and the last time it was for two years.”

  Abandonment issues? Kind of made sense. “You seem like a hero to me. The type to eventually settle down with the right woman and be a badass dad.”

  One eyebrow arched. He kicked his legs out under the table and patted his very flat belly. “Boy, do you have me pegged wrong. Can you imagine how screwed up a woman would have to be to end up with me?”

  She coughed out a laugh. Many adjectives described her, and screwup was apt. But now she was just fantasizing. He’d never end up with a liar. “You’re selling yourself short.”

  “No.” He tugged his T-shirt down and scratched his neck. “I’m always investigating. Don’t know how to trust anybody. And if I had someone who was actually mine—I mean really mine—I’m sure I’d be a complete possessive dick.”

  There was something sweet about his admission. Or perhaps that was just a dream she couldn’t have. “I see you as more protec
tive than possessive.”

  “Not much of a difference, blue eyes.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Now, I have a proposition for you.”

  Her breath sped up, but her body was so tired. Or maybe her brain was just exhausted. The talk with Trixie, although short, had taken a toll. The past often did. Even so, curiosity made her ask, “What’s your proposition?”

  “I’m tired, and by the look of you, you’re exhausted.” He stood and tossed all the garbage away. “Do you have a television in your bedroom?”

  She stilled. “Yes. Why?”

  He barked out a laugh, the muscles in his chest moving nicely. “Nothing salacious, I promise you. How about we cuddle down, watch a dumb movie, and fall asleep?”

  Her little heart rolled right over and sighed. The hottest guy she’d ever met wanted to snuggle with her? No sex but comfort? He was turning out to be way too good to be true. “Who are you?” she murmured.

  His head lifted. An unidentifiable light entered his eyes. “That’s always the question, now isn’t it?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Even the snuggly woman in Malcolm’s arms couldn’t keep the flashback images at bay. Junior with a hole in his head. Other victims drowning in blood. The dead people at the diner. Finally, at around three in the morning, he gently extricated himself from the warm bed.

  He checked the locks on the back door and the one to the garage. Then he moved to the front door and stopped. Shaking his head, he returned to double-check the back-door locks. Hypervigilance sucked. Then he went out the front door, made sure it locked behind him, and jogged quietly toward the street. Wolfe’s truck was parked several yards up the road.

  Mal jumped in. “Mornin.’”

  “You too.” Wolfe handed over a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Do what you’ve gotta do.” He started the engine and began driving down the deserted road. Kat peeked out from his pocket and gave a welcoming meow.

  Well, at least the kitten was still alive. Malcolm took the bottle and drank several swallows before spilling some on his T-shirt and jeans. Then he rubbed some into his hair. “Good?”

  “You stink. It’s good.” Wolfe took the bottle and drank a couple of shots.