Convinced tonight had not been a coincidence, he locked the door behind him.
He had more reason to believe the woman he’d danced with tonight and seen on the beach in Seattle three years ago was connected to the mole. The prison warden said a young blonde woman had visited the prison, hours before Gaynor had died.
People, the general public and those in all levels of law enforcement, often refused to believe that women were capable of doing dirty deeds. In his mind, women weren’t any more righteous or just than men. Society just wished they were. He’d discovered that during one of his first major cases.
His insides grew dark at the memory.
Scarlet O’Malley had duped him. Seduced him. She’d almost gotten away with it. Almost. He’d eventually seen through her. When he’d arrested her there had been an uproar of anger toward the Bureau. Scarlet had been loved by many, because she’d read nighttime stories to children over the radio every night. Those stories had been codes for bootleggers and rumrunners to know where the blockades had been set up to thwart the efforts of law enforcement.
He still hated himself for the fact that she’d obtained, seduced, information out of him. That was a lesson learned he’d never forget. Scarlet was a lesson he’d never forget. She’d been attractive and fun, and he’d been young and stupid. Had thought he’d known everything there was to know. He’d gone to college, had become an investigation agent for the Bureau. Scarlet verified none of that had made him smart.
Because of her, he’d almost lost that job. All because she’d told him that she loved him, and he’d been foolish enough to believe her. No one had ever loved him, and he’d never loved anyone. Scarlet had proven that to him all over again. She’d only wanted what she could get out of him.
No woman would ever do that again. Fool him again. He’d be here tomorrow night, meet Lacy, and wouldn’t hold a single qualm in using her to get to the mole. Lacy would soon learn that it would take more than a set of sparkling blue eyes, perfect curves, and a set of sweet lips to fool him.
Anger at himself made his jaw tighten. Those blue eyes. When she’d looked up at him, he’d almost been able to read her mind. She’d wanted to be kissed. He’d complied. This time. But wouldn’t again.
Henry walked down the steps into the long tunnel that eventually ended up at an abandoned house in a neighborhood near the base of the Santa Monica Mountains.
From there, he’d walk up a long trail into the woods and up the mountainside before he’d finally arrive at the cabin that was his hiding base for this assignment.
His thoughts, his determination to solve this assignment, continued as he walked along the dark tunnel. He took pride in being a federal investigation agent. Took satisfaction in how his hard work had made his uncle, his adoptive parent, proud. This job had given him something he’d never had before.
A place where he belonged. Where he fit in.
Orphans rarely fit in anywhere.
He’d learned that at an early age.
Being adopted hadn’t helped.
But the Justice Department had.
He’d finally found a place where he could be alone. That was how he liked it. Scarlet had almost ruined all that for him. That would never happen again. No one, man or woman, would ever jeopardize the oath he’d taken as a federal agent. Especially no little blue-eyed flapper.
Chapter Two
Long after she and her sisters had met in the alleyway, ran to catch the trolley, walked through the yard of the abandoned house on the edge of Hollywoodland, hiked up the road, and snuck through their own backyard to climb up the trellis and into the bathroom window, Betty’s heart still fluttered.
She had truly believed she’d never see him again. Had most certainly thought she’d never kiss him again.
But she had.
Met him and kissed him. Right there in the middle of the dance floor. It had been like before, on the beach. Her lips, her body, had instantly reacted to his lips touching hers and kissed him back.
Her heart began to thud.
She had broken more than one of the rules she’d set down for her and her sisters.
Neither Patsy nor Jane had questioned her about kissing him, and she hoped like she’d never hoped for something before that they hadn’t seen that happen.
If they had, she’d blame it on the dancing. She hadn’t had to think about the steps of any of the songs, just follow his lead up and down the dance floor and around and around. The dancing might have made her dizzy, light-headed. She hadn’t even realized what was happening, that they were kissing, until his lips left hers.
Yes, she had. She’d wanted him to kiss her, and when he had, she hadn’t wanted it to end. But it had, and then, just like he had on the beach, he’d left. Disappeared.
It hadn’t been until someone had handed her the mug that she’d spun around, expecting to see him at her side.
He hadn’t been there. The piano man had been, and told her that her partner had left, but that he’d be back tomorrow night.
Tomorrow night.
Well, she wouldn’t be there. She’d convince her sisters that they needed to visit a different joint. One he wouldn’t be at.
An odd sense of disappointment formed in her chest, right behind her breastbone.
Disappointed or not, she couldn’t take the chance of ever seeing him again. That, too, was against all the rules she’d set down that she and her sisters had to follow in order to continue sneaking out at night.
As the oldest, she’d always been charged with setting a good example for her younger sisters. Although she hated the strict rules they’d always had to live by, she did understand that
