Page 24 of The Agent
“I’ll be home from the hospital around five, so how’s seven?”
“Seven,” he confirmed.
She opened the door for him, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Caleb gave a slight nod, bade her goodbye and stepped onto the porch. She watched him walk off, then closed her front door and went back inside.
Her heart did a little jumping jack, and not even the memory of Patrick’s disgustingly loving email could bring down her mood. The police would find Patrick. She had to believe in that, otherwise she’d be cowering in fear, hiding in her bedroom closet or something. No matter how apprehensive the thought of Patrick coming back here made her, she wasn’t going to cower. She was stronger than that.
And right now, all she wanted to do was bask in the surprising and delicious feelings Caleb inspired in her and look forward to sharing dinner with a man who wasn’t a psychotic criminal.
* * *
“SON OF A BITCH,” PATRICKmuttered under his breath, his eyes glued to the dark-haired man who’d just walked out of Marley’s house.
Anger bubbled in Patrick’s gut as he noticed the other man’s cocky stride. The guy walked like a cop.
Probably because he was one.
Patrick’s entire body had turned into a block of ice when he’d seen that unmarked cruiser slide into Marley’s driveway, but the shock hadn’t been as great as the one he’d experienced when a very familiar DEA agent strolled outside to exchange a few words with the detective.
He clenched his fists. He’d known the cops were watching Marley, but the DEA had someone right next door? Shit. That would make getting to her a hell of a lot more difficult.
Did she know her neighbor was a cop? Patrick froze as he pondered that question. No, the agent must be pulling the wool over her eyes. Marley would never work with the cops. She was onhisside.
Then why did she give the fat detective her laptop?
“They were tracking her email,” he mumbled after a moment. He’d thought about that when he was at the internet café sending her the message, but he’d figured it was a risk he could afford to take. The cops would trace the email to the computer at the café, but it wasn’t like Patrick would be hanging around there, sipping lattes.
Marley had no choice. She’d had to give them her computer. What worried him more was the disconcerting presence of the agent next door. Patrick remembered him from the raid. The bastard had pointed a gun at him, ordered him to surrender. And now here he was, waiting for another chance to make his arrest.
“They won’t catch me,” Patrick said smugly, turning his attention to the woman on the bed.
He’d moved Lydia out of the closet to give her a little bit of air—he wasn’t a monster, after all—but she was still bound and gagged. Still looking at him with those terrified eyes.
“Relax,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you that.”
She whimpered, bringing a wave of irritation to his gut. Striding over to the bed, he sat down on the edge and stared directly at her. “I’m not a bad guy, all right? So quit looking at me like that. What’s so wrong with wanting to make a little money?”
The old lady couldn’t answer because of the gag stretched across her mouth, but the look in her eyes was annoyingly familiar. His parents used to sport that same expression, when he told them about all the big plans he had for himself. They didn’t understand, though. His parents were too bland, tooordinary. They were perfectly happy living in their crappy little Iowa town, teaching math to snot-faced schoolchildren, and letting their lives pass them by.
Well, Patrick wasn’t like them. All he’d ever wished for as a child was to get out of Nowhereville, Iowa, andbesomebody. He wanted to live life. He wanted millions of dollars in the bank and yachts and trips around the world.
But above all that, he wanted Marley.
She was beautiful and kind and good. And a bad boy like him needed a good girl like her for balance.
Except now he had that asshole cop to contend with. It would be no easy feat, getting the money he’d stashed under the tile in Marley’s bathroom, but he knew he’d find a way.
He always did, after all.
CHAPTER 6
CALEB SPENT MOSTof the morning going over his files on Patrick Grier, focusing on the list of known associates and persons of interest, and trying to figure out who Grier might turn to for help other than his ex-fiancée. By the early afternoon he gave up. The DEA and local law enforcement had already scoured that list for months, and so far it hadn’t produced any leads. There was some hope with a former contact of Grier’s in Mexico, but the man wasn’t talking and no amount of pressure seemed to help.
Getting up from his chair, Caleb rubbed his eyes, then glanced at the bed, noticing that all the sheets lay in a tangled mess on the floor. He’d been awake most of the night, tossing, turning, cursing and trying not to think about Marley. Of course, he’d failed miserably, and in the end he’d been up for hours, tossing, turning, cursing andtotallythinking about Marley.
He’d contemplated going to the guest room next door and dragging AJ out of bed, maybe getting a game of poker going, but he’d resisted the urge. AJ wouldn’t understand the feelings Caleb was developing for Marley.Disturbingfeelings. His emotions, normally tightly reined in, now flowed like water from a leaky faucet, and he was helpless to turn them off.
