Authors: Bobbie Cole
Months later, Seth watched the news on television as Charlie divested herself of gun, badge and purse. He motioned for her to join him.
“Come here. It’s Dorinda and her husband. They’re on the news.”
“Your sister?” she teased.
“Aldridge’s sister, thank you.” He popped her on the butt as she perched on the edge of his chair and draped an arm about his shoulders.
The Associated Press’s coverage was on the clandestine transporting of terrorists from Guatemala to the States, and Dorinda and Doug Wilkerson were front and center of the investigation.
“Oh, my.” Charlie leaned forward. “Did they just say murder?” She chortled. “So that’s what happened to the real Aldridge. They killed him and fed his body to the sharks, only gold fillings in dental records don’t lie.”
“Looks like they’re bartering,” Seth told her. “Copping to the murder in hopes of being sent back to the States—they don’t want to spend their time in a Mexican prison. That doesn’t work unless he was killed here, though, does it?”
She shook her head. “I suppose it beats having a Mexican execution or whatever the hell they do now for transporting terrorists.” Charlie bent to kiss her husband of three months. “I still can’t believe some of those arrested escaped from jail.”
“Don’t be so sure of their abilities,” Seth told her. “I hear there’s a new boy on the case, one who knows them and has a grudge.”
“Who?” she asked.
Seth shook his head. “I’ll tell you later. Right now I want to molest my wife. I haven’t seen her for over eight hours.”
Charlie loved it when Seth referred to her as his wife. She’d never be a domestic diva, but then her husband treated her more like a mistress than he did a housekeeper. Sure, they both did housework and attended to life’s mundane aspects, but they talked. More than that, they communicated, and he spoke her language.
Seth had regained enough of his memory and physical strength to stay with his department, but he was no longer a field agent, which suited them both. Somebody needed to have the ability to work from home occasionally in case Sam was unavailable as babysitter to the child who was on the way.
“Aargh! You know I hate secrets.” She punched him on the arm.
“But you love surprises.” Seth yanked her into his arms, wrestling her and pinning her beneath him.
Before Charlie could question him further about Rogers and other of his men who had escaped, their front doorbell rang.
“Julio!” she cried, throwing open the door to embrace him. She couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the Mohawk sported by her former partner.
He grinned broadly and hugged her back. “I called earlier, and Seth said it was okay for me to come by before I left.”
“You’re leaving? Where? You’re not well enough.”
“I’m okay to travel.”
“Nah.” Charlie shook her head. “I know you too well. Travel, how? On that motorcycle of yours?”
He shrugged. “That’s part of it.”
Charlie frowned. “But your head and your shoulder!”
He patted his shoulder. “Another two weeks, and doctor says I’ll be good as new. I’ll just have a hole and a scar.” He clucked his tongue against his teeth and winked. “I hear war wounds drive women wild.” He rubbed the scar on his forehead and leaned forward. “Wanna touch the hair?”
“Yeah.” Charlie couldn’t help but giggle. “But why a Mohawk? Why not just stay bald or let the whole thing grow out?”
“It’s for my new assignment—I’m going undercover. Didn’t Seth tell you? He’s the one who recommend me for the job, he and Stone.”
Charlie drew a deep breath and looked accusingly at her husband. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” Julio enthused. “I’m on special loan to the Feds to help bring in Damien Rogers, that rat bastard. Since I’m familiar with the case, know what he looks like—I should. Was staring right at him when he had those goons in the rafters shoot at me. I figure I owe him something, you know? He shouldn’ta messed with Jorge and Maria’s little boy.”
Julio stabbed a thumb to his chest, indicating himself. Then he snapped his fingers. “Which reminds me, will you two look in on them, on my folks, while I’m gone? Just check, make sure they’re okay?”
Charlie assured him that they would. “How long will you be gone?”
Julio shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe a month or two? A year? As long as it takes. I don’t want to kill him—okay, maybe I do a little. But I want him to suffer. I want to bring him to justice and parade him down to wherever they send him myself.”
“Hurt him once for me,” she said.
“Will do, mamacita.” He eyed her stomach. “Maybe I’ll get back in time for Little Charlie’s christening, no?”
Seth came up to stand behind Charlie. “You’d better. Mohawk and all.”
Julio shook hands with Seth and hugged Charlie once more. “Well, I have some form of orientation tomorrow. Gotta hit the sack early tonight, so I’ll see you later.”
After the door shut behind Julio, Seth turned Charlie to face him and nuzzled her neck, nibbling the tender skin just behind her ear. “Honey, do you remember handcuffing me in Mexico?”
“Mm. You said you weren’t mad about that anymore.”
“I lied.” Seth kissed her while walking her to the credenza where she’d unloaded her belongings after work. He found her handcuffs and told her to hold out her wrists. Snapping the first cuff to her and the second to himself, he started toward their bedroom, all the while telling her all the deliciously naughty things he was going to do to her once they were there.
Their front door opened suddenly, and there was a flurry of body parts as Charlie tried hiding her cuffed wrist behind her back and Seth attempted the same thing, only to yank her into him.
Julio didn’t appear to notice at first, and he was still in a chatty mood. “I meant to tell you that my parents are hosting a party on the twelfth at—” He paused, eyeing them suspiciously as the couple tried to hide what they’d been doing.
Julio laughed. “Whazzup, partner? Is this man holding you against your will?”
Charlie flushed with embarrassment. “I—uh—that is, he was showing me a new maneuver.”
Julio snorted. “Whatever.” He waggled a finger at them. “I knew the two of you were kinkier than spiral pasta.”
“Goodbye, Julio!” Seth and Charlie chorused.
Their friend held up his hands in surrender. “Just sayin’…I’ll be glad to help if you get into a bind.” He cackled at his own joke. Then he snapped his fingers. “I’ll email you the details about the party. Looks like you two were busy when I came in, and I know when I’m not wanted.” He winked and shut the door behind him as he left.
Seth’s eyes danced with laughter. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so shy. The unflappable Charlene Vargas, blushing like a bride.”
“The name is Charlene Taggart,” she informed him, tiptoeing to kiss his chin. “And I am a bride.”
“Then let’s start treating you like one, wife.” Seth kissed her soundly.
Warmth flooded Charlie as her body melded with Seth’s. His arms were sure and strong, his hands both possessive and caressing.
Wife. She liked the sound of that.
Bobbie Cole is the multi-published author of dozens of short stories, confessions and magazine articles as well as a few dozen novels and novellas under various pseudonyms (both male and female). When she’s not writing or spending time with loved ones, she’s either curled up with a book, her dogs, good music and some form of beverage, or she’s traveling. Upcoming adventures on her agenda include free-falling, zip lining and stomping grapes at a winery—she wants to see her purple footprints on a T-shirt.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9134-2
Copyright © 2011 by Bobbie Cole
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