Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce) (6 page)

Not Thomas
. Her relief was so great, her knees wobbled. She grabbed the edge of the counter, cleared her throat. How sick was that? Of course, she didn’t want anyone to be hurt, but she’d already lost so many people she cared about.

I don’t care about him. I can’t afford to care…

Yeah, right. “How serious are the injuries?”

Cooper ran a hand over his face, accepted a cup of coffee from Celina. “Serious enough.”

“And Thomas? He’s okay, right?”

A sip of coffee, a shrug. “Probably. He’s in lockup.”

“Jail?”

Another shrug. “Didn’t want his UC identity blown, so he was arrested with the rest of Sandoval’s and Ortega’s crews.”

Celina handed her a cup of coffee and Ronni sat next to Cooper. “Aren’t you going to bail him out?”

“Not me,” he slid a business card at her. “You are.”

“Me?”

“If I go in and bail him out, his crew in jail will get suspicious. Could blow his cover. His girlfriend, on the other hand…that’s a different story.”

“But I’m not his girlfriend.”

“The criminals don’t know that.” He wrote something on the file. “Take that card with you and ask for Lieutenant Murphy. He’ll know you’re one of mine and he’ll help you with the paperwork.”

He glanced at her, gave her the once-over from head to toes. “And dress in character. Tristan Ludlow’s girlfriend would be…sluttier.”

Now she was really confused. “Tristan
who
?”

“Thomas’s cover identity. I told him Tristan was a stupid name. He said it was some character in a Brad Pitt movie.” Cooper snorted, shaking his head. “Kid thinks he’s Brad Pitt.”

“He’s got the cheekbones for it,” Celina said. “With that long hair and tan he’s got…” She stopped at the look Cooper shot her, then winked at Ronni. “I’ll help you get into character.”

Two hours later, Ronni was at the San Diego police station with her hair frizzed and her makeup too heavy. She wore a short skirt and three-inch heeled Chinese Laundry shoes that hurt her toes. For effect, she smacked her gum and stuck her hip out while she waited for the desk sergeant to find Lieutenant Mumford.

Mumford, a short, greying, older man who could have passed for an Irish priest, didn’t even raise an eyebrow when he saw her, and within ten minutes, she had the forms filled out and the phony bail money deposited. Processing Thomas’s release took another thirty minutes, so she sat outside and watched the fog from the Pacific creep away, inch by inch, as the sun rose.

Even at that time of the morning, there was a constant flow of criminals and cops in and out of the station. Few paid attention to her, but when Thomas finally emerged, he saw her and froze in his tracks. She sat on a low concrete divider, legs crossed in her too-short skirt, swinging one seductively back and forth.

“That’s quite a look,” Thomas said. “
Susannah
.”

She’d never seen
Legends of the Fall
, but IMDb had provided the cast of characters. “This old thing? Thought you loved this look,
Tristan
.”

His clothes were wrinkled, his face drawn. The stubble hugging his jawline had grown overnight, and shadows hung under his eyes. He came forward, pulled her off the concrete barrier, and swept her into a hug. It was all for show, she knew, but his strong arms and warm male scent triggered something female inside her. “About time you got here.”

She patted his shoulder awkwardly, trying to draw back from his embrace. He held tight, nuzzled her ear. “Thank you.”

Goosebumps ran down her arms. She needed to disengage from his touch—like, yesterday—yet a small part of her didn’t want to. “I didn’t have much choice.”

A muffled rumble of laughter shook his chest, vibrating into hers. He ran a hand up and down her spine, stopping to finger each vertebra. Unbidden heat shot between her legs. “I sort of figured Coop sent you.” He nuzzled her neck and ear again, murmuring low. “At least act like you’re glad to see me.”

“Why? Is someone watching?” she whispered back.

She could have sworn he groaned ever so slightly at her breath on his ear. A little thrill ran through her at the sound. “Someone’s always watching, Susannah. You know that.”

He kissed her then, his lips working over hers with a startling boldness. It felt good, but Ronni cut it short and drew back, ready to fillet him, when she saw they did indeed have an audience.

A lawyer was cutting across the parking lot, briefcase in hand, watching the show. From the layers of gold chains around his neck and the high shine on his expensive loafers, Ronni pegged him for one of Sandoval’s.

At the same time, Thomas’s hands were being much too familiar with her backside, turning her stomach to mush. Her pulse skipped in a wild rhythm. “Stop it.”

“Come on. Is that any way to treat your recently jailed boyfriend?”

Grabbing some skin on his side through his shirt, she pinched him.

Which was quite a feat since there wasn’t an ounce of flab anywhere on his body.

“Ouch!” He stepped back and rubbed the spot. “What are you doing?”

“Pretending I’m your girlfriend,” she said under her breath, then raised her voice. “You lousy SOB. If you think I’m bailing your ass out of jail again, you can go blow yourself.”

She stomped off toward the car, struggling to not totter too much in the ridiculous heels. The feeling reminded her of her childhood when she’d played dress up with her mother’s clothes and shoes, pretending to be rich and famous. Those were the days before her mother had fallen in love with Daniel Karsni. The days when her father came around once in a while and there was laughter in their house.

Glancing over her shoulder, she stopped on the driver’s side of the car and caught Thomas staring at her butt.
Pig
. “You coming or not?”

The lawyer had moved on, but others were still watching. One side of Thomas’s mouth lifted, his blue eyes snapping with the love of the game. “Oh, I’m coming, my gooey buttercup.”

He hurdled over the passenger side door like he’d done the day before, and Ronni rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses.

A mile down the road, she turned left and headed north into the hills. “Was that act good enough for you?”

“Perfect.” He rubbed his side as if it still stung and watched the passing scenery. “Where are you headed?”

A check of the rearview reassured her they weren’t being followed. If someone was keeping tabs on Thomas, it wasn’t obvious. She took a bogus turn, just in case. “Your place.”

“You know where I live?”

She hadn’t just researched
Legends of the Fall
. “If you’re going to be my partner on this new assignment, you’ll need a makeover. Head to toe.” Another turn, another check of the rearview. A blue import followed, but passed them a moment later. “And I need breakfast. You owe me that, so I hope you’ve got eggs in your fridge.”

“Really?” He had a weird look on his face. Reminded her of a puppy. “You’re taking me into the cult with you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You’ll see.”

“Um…” He glanced right and left. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“Heat run. I memorized the main thoroughfares around here while I was waiting for you this morning. Just making sure we’re not being followed.”

“Paranoid much?”

“You’re the one who said someone’s always watching.”

He laughed. “Mostly, I said that to see what you’d do—how far you’d carry the op.”

Irritation burned in her chest. He’d been testing her. “If we’re going to be partners…”

“If we’re going to be partners, we have to trust each other. You don’t trust me—
yet
—and I don’t know how deep your PTSD runs.”

Ronni signaled, left the flow of traffic, and slid into the first parking spot she could find. The fog had lifted and the sun glowed yellow in the sky. The cool morning air made her snug her small sweater closer. She really should have put the top up on the car. “I don’t have post-traumatic stress disorder. I don’t have a disorder of any kind.”

“The shrinks cleared you for field duty. Big deal. You and I both know that doesn’t mean jack shit when you’re inside a criminal organization and facing down life or death stakes.”

True. Didn’t mean she had to like the fact or his condescending attitude. “I thought you wanted to go inside The Church with me.”

“I do.”

“You’re not winning Brownie points with this lecture.”

“But you know I’m right.”

“You think I’m going to break when push comes to shove.”

“Will you?”

She honestly didn’t know. The anxiety attacks worried her. But that was her issue and she would deal with it. “I’ve beaten some pretty high odds in my lifetime. Survived Wrightsville and Daniel Karsni’s fanatical teachings. Survived a psychotic killer. Now I’m here, and regardless of my
issues
, if you’re my partner, I’ll give a hundred and ten percent. That’s all you need to know.”

The faintest of smiles crossed his lips. “Then let’s go get that breakfast. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Chapter Six

When Thomas emerged from his bathroom, Ronni was in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee and munching on a piece of toast. The coffee and toast smells permeated the air as Ronni read a tablet computer.

The breakfast aromas were nothing new in this apartment—toast and coffee were diet staples, often the only things he had time to make before jetting out the door. But this morning, with Ronni seated at his tiny kitchenette by the window and the sun on her face, the room felt different.

Comfortable.

Inviting.

Snap out of it
. It wasn’t as if he never had a beautiful woman sitting at his kitchen table…

Actually, he hadn’t. Not in a long time. A
very
long time. Being an undercover DEA agent didn’t allow for a lot of personal time. The baggage of putting anyone he cared about in danger was too great. He’d seen it with Cooper and Celina.

And keeping secrets put too much pressure on a relationship. He didn’t bring women home. It had become an unwritten rule. He didn’t like them getting in his business or seeing the real Thomas Mann.

He paused in the doorway, ran a hand over his freshly shaved jaw. Ronni had kicked off her fuck-me shoes and propped her feet on the chair across from her.

Make yourself at home, partner.
“Couldn’t wait for breakfast?”
Couldn’t wait for
me?

She glanced up, startled, eyes wide and body tense. That look…he’d seen a similar one in his own eyes when he’d come back from Afghanistan.

Fear.

In the span of a heartbeat, however, a veil fell over Ronni’s face, shutting down the emotion. Not a veil—a wall. Slammed down and locked tight. Her eyes did that thing that made him feel like he was on display…they glided over his frame, inventorying him from top to bottom, before settling on his face. The tension in her shoulders eased. “You took so long, I nearly keeled over with hunger. Is that your plan to get out of being my partner? Starve me to death?”

The kitchen was small like the rest of the apartment, and painted a pale yellow—his landlady called it “buttercream”. White appliances and yellow and white checked curtains added a ridiculous cottage feel to it. Ronni’s big hair, dark skin, loud dress, and even louder makeup flashed like a neon sign. An exotic bird completely out of its environment.

Amazing how she could rock the conservative FBI agent and the
Miami Vice
hooker look. “How about we hit the pancake place up the block? They have a smart-ass special you’d probably like.”

She ignored his remark, came back with a snarky one of her own. “You can’t cook a simple meal of eggs and bacon, Mann?”

“I haven’t been home much in a while.”
And never bring a woman here
. “I’m low on supplies.”

Those dark brown eyes of hers held his, calculating, probing. She’d looked in his fridge, knew he had more than bread and coffee. “I’d rather stay here. We have a lot to do to get you ready for tonight, and I’d prefer not to discuss this stuff in public.”

He retrieved a clean cup from the dish drainer and poured himself some coffee. So much for getting her out of his place. “What’s tonight?”

“Open Door Saturday Services.” She held up the tablet, zoomed in so he could read the headline of the website page.
The Church that love is building…
”iChurch opens its doors to the public on the first Saturday night of each month for an evening of praise and worship. That’s Church-speak for recruiting.”

“Will Adam be there?”

She laid down the tablet. “He gives the call to action speech at the end.”

Thomas sipped the coffee, hot and strong. She was discreetly doing that eye thing again, skimming his body as if searching for something. Everything below his waist tightened. “Will he recognize you?”

Her attention refocused on the tablet screen. “Would you recognize someone you hadn’t seen since you were three?”

No
. “So what’s the plan?”