.38 Caliber Cover-Up

God, her lips were smooth and ideal. Her mouth was warm. A perfect fit. Everything was a perfect fit. They weren’t coming up for air. The kiss kept deepening. Her breasts pressed into his chest. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on them and find out if they were a perfect fit, too.

“Hey, d’Artagnan,” Sean shouted from below. “Come on down.”

Darby drew back, leaving inches between them. Her finger caressed the outline of his ear, trailing down his neck and tapped the dagger charm hanging there.

“You can sit now.” Did he imagine the huskiness in her voice? She broke away from his arms. “I need to open the parachute valve so we’ll descend.”

Tops of balloons were to his left and nothing but air to his right. Tree tops were in the distance across the field as he stumbled back to the edge of the basket.

His legs shook and his insides jumped, but was it from the height? Or a green-eyed witch who had taken him flying?

Chapter Four

“Time to face the firing squad.”

Darby muttered under her breath, but Agent Rhodes shifted, letting her know he’d heard the sibling battle cry for facing their father.

Agent Rhodes… Or should she think of him as Erren after that erotic kiss? She hadn’t meant the distraction to go so far. A little shock therapy to take his mind off his obvious fear of heights. And judging by the raised voices below, everyone had seen her complete enjoyment of his marvelous kissing ability.

Unfortunately, her head was coming down out of the clouds rather quickly and her feet were about to hit the ground.

“I can hear the Sergeant Major yelling at Sean for letting the balloon go up.”

“Are you going to tell me who this Sergeant Major guy is?”

Erren was still standing. A little rocky on his feet, but he looked much better than when she’d thought he was about to hurl. He made eye contact with her for the first time since their kiss. Whew, what a kiss. The man had a way to focus and bring concentrated effort to the task at hand. He’d been the one who could barely stand. But when her knees got a smidgen shaky, it was his arm steadying her, feeling its way around her waist, discovering there wasn’t a shirt under the jacket. Her body had quickly grown hot enough to keep the balloon in the air without propane, but taking anything off wasn’t an option….

“Does your brother work for him?” Erren asked.

It was probably time to break the bad news. “Sergeant Major is short for father. Three boys and one girl and we all refer to him as the Sergeant Major. Even though he’s retired, he’s still U.S. Army through and through.”

“And you call him Sergeant Major?” he asked, with his eyes closed. Still unable to watch their surroundings.

“You’ll know why in a few minutes.” Couldn’t he hear the yelling from directly below them? A controlled, raised voice. Nothing so loud the festival participants could hear, but a loud voice nonetheless. She couldn’t hear Sean’s responses yet, but they were almost to the ground. “You better let me do the talking when we land. My father doesn’t deal well with a change in his plans.”

“I can handle it.”

Erren looked steadier on his feet. The green hint of nausea was quickly being replaced by a shoulders-back, ramrod-spine, no-frills kind of guy. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Erren had exited the cabin of a military jet.

“Got a rubber band or something?” He tugged at his hair, shoving the longish locks behind his ears.

“Nothing.” She patted her pockets to make certain.

“You did not say your sister was in the basket. She’s the one getting engaged?” The Sergeant Major’s voice boomed from beneath them.

“Not for real, sir.” Sean explained while gathering the ropes. “I couldn’t let the cops take her in. Hear her out.”

“Cops? Why would they— She is a cop.”

The ground rapidly approached. Erren ripped a piece of his T-shirt and tied his hair at the back of his neck. He shoved the red, white and blue Don’t Mess with Texas shirt into his pants and pulled them higher on his waist, tightening his belt.

“Get ready for a bump,” she instructed, attempting to ignore the discussion below, praying her father wasn’t drawing a crowd and watching Erren change personas right before her eyes.

Gone was the man too afraid to stand up in the basket. He’d been replaced by a man her father would have a hard time finding fault with. Well, except for the small necklace dangling against his tanned neck. And maybe the very intimate, public kiss.

“You might want to put your dagger in your pocket.”

The basket touched ground, ropes were tied, they hopped over the side and the chain and charm were gone.

“What’s the big idea stealing my balloon to avoid questioning, young woman?” Her father didn’t touch her. He had completely dispensed with pleasantries or introductions and gone straight for the jugular…as usual. “I have no use for men who show their affections in public, son. You’re dismissed while I speak with my daughter.”

“Begging the Sergeant Major’s pardon, but I’m the person your daughter was protecting with that kiss. I believe it’s in your best interest to hear me out.”

“And who the heck are you?”

A very good question and one she was curious about herself.

“Paladin, sir.”

Her father’s lip lifted, almost growing to a smile before he caught the reaction and put his Sergeant Major face back in place. What was she missing?

Her father actually clapped a hand on a stranger’s shoulder and led him to his coffee thermos.

“Spit it out, son. What’s your story?”

Erren nodded his head but they were too far away for her to hear his words.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” her brother whispered behind her, holding her in place.

She twisted away from watching the clap on Erren’s shoulder to face an awestruck brother, mesmerized by the scene.

“If you’re witnessing our father miss the opportunity to flail me alive for messing with his—”

“Our.”

“The balloon,” she corrected. “Then yes, I guess we’re not hallucinating.”

She took a step to follow Erren, but Sean tugged on her elbow. She didn’t want her father involved and had no idea what Erren might tell him.

“Darb’tagnan.”

She loved the childhood nickname her siblings had given her. The O’Malley brothers had all been the Three Musketeers growing up and one day to join their fun antics, she’d declared herself d’Artagnan. The name had morphed into “Darb’tagnan” and her siblings had developed “four-teer,” a secret language of drawings to bypass random babysitters or adults.

“Let Paladin the chameleon handle the Sergeant Major.” He waved for her to follow him to the other side of the basket. “What happened to him up there? He did an about-face on the scared-spitless routine. Which is the real him?”

“That’s the thing, Sean. This guy was sent by Pike and—”

“Your partner at the academy? Not to be tactless, but how can you believe him? Isn’t he a little late?”

How much should she tell him? “He had a note from Michael, telling me in four-teer language to stick with him.”

“And that’s enough to make you run to Michael’s rescue again? You’re determined to believe him? Didn’t his academy embarrassment teach you anything? Or him breaking into your old apartment?” He pushed his hands