“He’s a career marine who volunteered for a third tour to Afghanistan.” Her voice trailed off to a soft mumble. “Daunting possibilities and odds.”
An unusual saying for a family.
“Your father wanted to make certain you’d be safe.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said adamantly. Her voice stronger, her fists wrapped tighter on the steering wheel.
“I know. So does he.”
Whatever strange relationship the O’Malleys had with one another, at least they had one. His lack of family made him the perfect agent. Perfect that no one would miss him if something happened. Perfect to risk everything and not think about the consequences.
Darby had too much to lose.
He reached for the charm still in his pocket. He took it out and placed the single memory he carried back on display.
“Why the dangly necklace?” she asked.
So she was done talking about her father. She could change the subject to him. He’d let her…until the next red light.
“It represents the reason I became a cop.”
“It’s a dagger.”
“That’s right.”
“Wouldn’t that mean you wanted to be a pirate when you grew up?” She grinned a beautiful smile. The same one she’d given him after their kiss.
It wasn’t the right time to tell her his life story. Family and undercover work aside… It was time to find out why Pike had sent him to this woman. Past time to fulfill his promise and move on.
“Where’s the package, Darby?”
It was obvious to him she debated what to say. Her mouth opened and closed several times, she bit her lip then chewed on it. She nervously tapped her forefinger—if there had been a pen in her hand, she probably would have done that twirly thing again.
“You might as well announce to the world that you’re about to lie.”
“Why would I lie?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Now that’s not fair. I asked you first.”
No grin this time. No teasing, just stalling. Again.
“And I asked you second. What does that have to do with anything? Are we twelve? People in our line of work lie all the time.”
There it was again. The slight catch in her breath. The dart of a look—definitely away from him. Chewing on her lip. Pike had said O’Malley was one of the best-trained agents he had, but man, she was totally off her game around him. Perhaps that kiss had distracted them both.
Nice information to stow away for later. Right now, she was driving north with a purpose. No meandering or random turns. She knew where they were going. She wasn’t saying.
“No more games.” He hated being out of control.
“I’m not playing games—”
“Give it up. I know you aren’t telling me something.” Was she afraid he’d ditch her after he retrieved the information? Would he? Naw. Not unless the situation turned into something more dangerous than picking up a package.
“I want to have a look at Pike’s place,” she finally admitted.
“Come on, O’Malley. You know the package could potentially help Michael.” How? He didn’t know, but he’d surmised that was the reason she wanted to hang on to it as badly as he wanted to turn it over to the DEA. “Obtaining the information will answer your questions. Or is that what you’re afraid of?”
“We’re almost to Pike’s house. Let’s take a look and then talk more about him.” Her body tensed behind the wheel. She didn’t lie well, but she damn well could keep a secret.
A trait that just made him want to kiss her more. Dammit. That shouldn’t happen again. Shouldn’t…but it would.
They’d left the city behind. The small town of Allen had exploded since the last time he’d been this direction, but it still had that country atmosphere where Sean’s truck was one of many that looked exactly the same.
Darby kept her ideas close, but borrowing this Chevy seemed to be a good addition to the plan. They drove past the last fast-food shack and into a residential area. His stomach gave a low growl. He hadn’t eaten since the two drive-by burritos the previous day and the Sergeant Major hadn’t offered a cup from his thermos of coffee.
And what about Super Cop over there? Food had to be on her agenda soon. No? She kept driving.
No food for the time being. The subdivision was filled with cul-de-sacs—no easy way to case a house. The truck slowed and she snapped the blinker to turn onto a residential street.
“Don’t park in front. We don’t want to compromise this vehicle.”
“Got it,” she answered, making the turn.
“This isn’t a good idea.” Saying the words out loud didn’t make him less culpable. “The place is probably being watched. If not by the cops, then by a helpful neighbor. And if not by him, don’t forget the sons of bitches that murdered Pike and are looking for the same information we are.”
“It’s necessary.”
She drove the cul-de-sac, making the turn and passing the houses a second time. He didn’t spot any obvious cars. At least not like the one parked outside Darby’s place.
“Which house is his?”
“It’s in the middle of the block, south side, rear-entry garage across the alley from a school parking lot. We could pull around back.”
“Right. And no one will notice we don’t have any kids. We can park with the teachers.”
The line of cars arriving at the school was getting longer. When it was their turn to pull into the lot, the flashing sign in front said, “Welcome to Grandparents’ Day.” These people weren’t leaving. If something went wrong…
“Aw, hell. This is
“Pike complained every morning about the traffic the elementary school added to the neighborhood. He was never here after his wife Marilyn died, but still complained.” She parked in the lot and opened the glove compartment, retrieving the guns she’d placed there earlier. “Here, I hope you don’t need this.”
The 9mm SIG slid across his palm. In three efficient moves, he had the ammo checked, the safety off, and the gun covered with his shirt. Darby did the same with her service weapon. They walked along a sidewalk running parallel to the houses. Cars pulled behind them into parking spaces. At the end of the block more cars lined the street—a steady stream of parents and children.
Fields of farmland surrounded the school. Each house had an identical fence surrounding each yard with a driveway funneling to a garage door. A perfect cross-fire area.
Lots of fences. Extremely high fences.
“If I were looking for you, I’d be camped behind those six-foot hide-a-bad-guy-boards, with a barrel pointed straight at your heart.”
The words didn’t faze her. Well, maybe a little. She adjusted the Glock at the small of her back. Darby nodded toward a driveway. He had that strange knot in his gut again and they both pulled their guns.
Darby altered her path toward the gate and he pivoted, watching their backs, looking at a lot of civilians behind them. The garage door opened and he spun again, aiming his weapon at the empty space.
His partner stood by the keypad and shrugged. “I took a guess it was his badge number.”
“I was thinking we’d make a quieter entrance, maybe through a window? If there is anyone in the house, they know we’re here.”
He led the way, entering the back hallway and laundry room, stopping every few feet to listen. Darby followed. There weren’t any unusual sounds, but everything had been searched. Every picture was off the wall. Every cover ripped from its cushion. Every desk drawer emptied and broken in frustration.
Plant roots were torn from the dirt, the pots shattered on the tabletop. There was no pretext this was a
