Renegade (2 page)

Cash looked oddly hesitant. “I have a car,” he said. “It's
garaged in Houston. I don't drive it a lot, but I maintain it. It was for emergencies.”

“Now you've got me curious,” Judd said. “What sort of car?”

“It's just a car,” Cash said, shrugging, too embarrassed to tell Judd what sort of car it really was. He never talked about his finances. “Nothing fancy. Listen, are you sure you can handle the work here while I'm gone?”

“I was a Texas Ranger.”

Cash grinned. “Yeah, but this is a
hard
job…!”

He moved out of the way just in time to avoid retribution.

“You wait,” Judd threatened with dancing eyes. “I'll hire you the ugliest secretary east of the Brazos River!”

“You would,” Cash sighed. “Well, at least get me somebody who isn't so skittish, would you?”

“Why exactly did she quit?”

Cash sighed. “The punk rocker was upset about not being allowed into my filing cabinet. I didn't want to tell her about my baby python being in there temporarily, so I told her I kept top secret flying-saucer material in there.”

“That's when she upended the trash can over your head,” Judd guessed.

Cash shook his head. “No, that was afterward. I told her the filing cabinet was locked for a purpose, and that she'd better stay out of it. I went out to talk to one of the patrol officers. While I was gone, she got a nail file and forced the lock. Mikey, the python, had squeezed out of the cage and was sitting up on top of the file folders when she pulled out the drawer. She screamed like a banshee and when I went running back to see what was the matter, she threw a pair of handcuffs at me! She accused me of booby-trapping the cabinet to upset her.”

“That explains the scream I heard,” Judd agreed. “I told you it wasn't a good idea to keep Mikey's cage in the filing cabinet.”

“It was just for today. Bill Harris only gave him to me this morning and I didn't have time to take him home. I put him in there until I got off work, so he wouldn't frighten anybody who came into the office and saw him. I'm certainly taking him home this afternoon,” he said indignantly, “to make sure he doesn't get traumatized any more than he already is!”

“The acting mayor's niece is afraid of snakes. Imagine that,” Judd mused.

“It does strain the imagination,” Cash had to agree.

“You didn't give her a reason to sue us, I hope?” his friend persisted.

Cash shook his head. “I just mentioned that I had Mikey's dad in the other filing cabinet and asked if she'd like to meet him. That's when she quit.” He smiled pleasantly.

“If you fire people, the city has to pay them unemployment. If they quit voluntarily, you don't. So I helped her quit voluntarily,” he added with a grin.

“You villain,” Judd said, trying not to laugh.

“It's not my fault. She had a king-sized crush on me. She thought if her uncle got her this job, she could hike up her skirt and throw out her chest and seduce me,” he said irritably. He frowned. “Maybe I should have filed a sexual harassment suit.”

“Oh, that would go over well with Ben Brady,” Judd said tongue in cheek.

“I'm tired of being chased around my desk by secretaries.”

“They're called administrative assistants,” Judd said helpfully. “Not secretaries.”

“Give me a break!”

“That's why I want you to go to New York.”

“I've got a pet to take care of,” Cash protested.

“You can take Mikey back over to Bill Harris before you leave town. He won't mind taking care of your baby while you're gone. You need a break. Honest.”

Cash sighed and slid his big hands into his pockets. “For once, I agree with you.” He hesitated. “If her uncle calls and asks why she left…”

“I won't say a word about the snake. I'll just tell him that you were having mental problems from being followed around by aliens all day,” Judd said complacently.

Cash gave him a dirty look and went back to work.

 

L
ATE THE NEXT DAY
, Cash presented himself in the commandant's office at the Cannae Military Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. The name of the school was amusing to him, denoting as it did the monstrous defeat of mighty Rome at the hands of the Carthaginian guerilla, Hannibal.

The commandant, Gareth Marist, was known to him. He'd served with the man years before during Operation Desert Storm in Iraq.

They shook hands like brothers, which they were, under the skin. Few men had ever had to endure what these two had when they'd gone in behind enemy lines. Marist had escaped. Cash had not.

“Rory told me all about you,” Gareth said, “before I realized who you were. Sit down, sit down! It's good to see you again. You're working in law enforcement now, I believe?”

Cash nodded, dropping gracefully into a chair across the desk from the uniformed man, who was about his age, but taller and with a receding hairline. “I'm police chief of a small town in Texas.”

“It's hard to give up the military life,” Gareth told him. “I
couldn't. So I got this appointment, which was great for me. I love helping mold the soldiers of the future. Young Rory has a lot of potential, by the way,” he added. “He's very intelligent, and not rattled by boys twice his size. Even the bullies leave him alone,” he chuckled.

Cash grinned. “He's not afraid to speak his mind, that's for sure.”

“And his sister,” Gareth said, with a long whistle. “If I weren't a happily married man with two delightful children, I'd be crawling on my knees after Tippy Moore. She really is beautiful, and she loves that kid,” he volunteered. “When she first brought him here, she was scared to death. There had been some trouble with her mother, but she downplayed it. She showed me papers that gave her full custody of the boy, and she made sure we knew that we were never to let his mother get her hands on him. Or his so-called father.” He studied the other man closely. “I don't guess you'd know why?”

“I might,” Cash replied, “but I don't share secrets.”

“I remember,” Gareth replied, and with a grim smile. “You never broke under torture. I only knew one other guy who managed that, and he was SAS—the British Special Air Services.”

“He was in there with me,” Cash told him. “A hell of a guy. He went right back to his unit after we escaped, like nothing had ever happened.”

“So did you.”

Cash didn't like talking about it. He changed the subject. “How's Rory doing academically?”

“Very well. Top ten percent of his class,” he said. “He's an officer, too.” He smiled. “You can always tell the ones who have leadership ability. It shows up early.”

“Indeed it does.” He cocked his head. “No financial problems keeping him here?” he fished.

The commandant sighed. “Not at the moment,” he said. “Although Tippy's income is sporadic, you understand. There have been times when we've stretched due dates…”

“If there are ever other times, could you let me know, without telling Tippy?” He slipped a business card out of his wallet and slid it across the sleek wood of the desk to the commandant. “Think of me as part of Rory's family.”

Gareth was hesitant. “Grier, this is a hell of an expensive place,” he began. “On a policeman's salary…”

“Look in the parking lot at what I'm driving.”

“There are lots of cars out there,” the other man began, rising to go to the window.

“You'll notice it.”

There was a pause and a whistle when he saw the beautiful, red custom-made Jaguar. He turned to Cash. “That's yours?”

Cash nodded. “I paid cash for it,” he added deliberately.

The other man let out a sigh. “Lucky devil. I drive an SUV.” He turned back to his desk. “I gather that special ops pays well.”

“No, it doesn't,” Cash disagreed. “But I was heavily into other work before I did special ops,” he added. “And I don't talk about it. Ever.”

“Sorry.”

“No harm done. It was a long time ago, but I invested wisely, as you see.” He smiled. “Now. How about calling Rory in?”

The commandant knew when an interview was over. He smiled back. “Okay.”

 

R
ORY CAME INTO THE
commandant's office breathless, flushed with excitement. Two boys had come down the long hall with him, but they stopped outside the office, and stood watching from across the hall.

“Mr. Grier,” Rory greeted, breaking into a wide smile. “Gosh, it's nice of you to come pick me up! Sis and I usually take the train!”

“We're driving,” Cash said, smiling with a little reserve. “I hate trains.”

“Oh, I like them, especially the dining car,” Rory proclaimed. “I'm always hungry.”

“We'll stop and eat before we start up to New York,” he promised the boy. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, I've got my kit right out here in the hall! Sis is beside herself,” he added gleefully. “She's cleaned the apartment three times and polished all the furniture. She even cleaned out the guest room, so you'd have a place to stay!”

“Thanks, but I like my own space,” Cash said easily. “I've booked a hotel room near her apartment.”

The commandant chuckled when he heard that. The Cash he'd known had always been a stickler for protocol. He wouldn't spend a night in a single woman's apartment, no matter how many people thought it was acceptable.

“My sister said that you probably wouldn't stay in the apartment,” Rory said surprisingly. “But she wanted you to think she's a good housekeeper. She's practiced cooking beef Stroganoff, too. Judd Dunn told her you like that.”

“It's my favorite,” Cash confessed, impressed.

Rory grinned. “Mine, too, but I'm glad you like it.”

“Do I have to sign him out?” Cash asked Gareth.

“You do. Come on out and we'll take care of the formalities. Danbury, have a good holiday,” he told Rory.

Cash was shocked to hear the boy's last name. He'd assumed the child's last name was Moore, like Tippy's.

Rory saw the surprise and laughed. “Tippy's real last name is Danbury, too. Moore was our grandmother's last name. Tippy used it when she started modeling.”

That was curious. Cash wondered why, but he wasn't going to start asking probing questions right now. He signed Rory out, took time to shake hands with Rory's fascinated friends, and escorted the boy out to his car.

Rory stopped dead when he saw Cash push a button and the trunk of a flashy red Jaguar popped open.

“That's your
car?
” Rory exclaimed.

“That's my car,” Cash told him, smiling. He tossed the boy's bag into the boot and closed it. “Climb aboard, youngster, and let's be off.”

“Yes, sir!” Rory replied, waving frantically to the two spellbound boys at the front door of the office. Their noses were actually flattened against the glass when Cash roared out of the parking lot and onto the street.

C
ASH STOPPED BY HIS HOTEL
to check in before he drove Rory to Tippy's apartment in Manhattan, in the lower East Village.

Tippy was waiting at her door after she buzzed Cash and Rory up to her flat on the second floor. She looked like a stranger, in jeans and a pullover yellow sweater, with her long red-gold hair flowing down her back. With the casual attire and minus any makeup, she didn't look like the elegant, beautiful woman Cash remembered from the premiere of her movie, the month before.

She fidgeted nervously as she opened the door, smiling. “Come in,” she said quickly. “I hope you're both hungry. I made beef Stroganoff.”

Cash's dark eyebrows rose. “My favorite. How did you know?” he added with wicked dark eyes.

She cleared her throat.

“It's my favorite, too,” Rory laughed, coming to her rescue. “She always makes it for me on the night I come home.”

Cash chuckled. “That puts me in my place.”

She was looking around behind him. “No suitcase?” she asked. “I cleaned the spare bedroom.”

“Thanks, but I booked a room at the Hilton, down town,” he said with a warm smile. “I like my own space.”

“Oh. Right.” She laughed self-consciously, before she awkwardly turned away and hugged Rory. “It's great to have you home for the holidays!” she said. “You made good grades, I hear, too.”

“I did,” he assured her.

“And got detention for fighting,” she added deliberately.

He cleared his throat. “An older boy called me a name I didn't like.”

“Yes?” She folded her arms across her chest and kept staring at him, unblinking.

Rory's eyes flashed. “He called me a bastard.”

Her own green eyes flashed as well. “I hope you knocked him down.”

He grinned. “I did. He's my buddy now.” He glanced at Cash, who was watching the byplay with interest. “Nobody else ever stood up to him. He had the makings of a real bully, but I saved him from that awful fate.”

Cash burst out laughing. “Good for you.”

Tippy pushed back her hair. “Let's eat. I haven't had lunch,” she added, leading the way into a small but cozy kitchen. The table was set with an embroidered table cloth, on which rested colorful plates, cups, saucers and elegant silverware. She pulled a jug of milk out of the refrigerator and poured two crystal goblets full of it.

“Got another glass?” Cash asked as he paused by a chair. “I like milk.”

She gave him a startled look. “I was going to offer you a whiskey…”

His face tightened. “I don't drink hard liquor. Ever.”

She was taken aback. “Oh.” She turned away with real embarrassment. She hadn't said one thing right since he'd walked in the door. She felt like an idiot. She got out another crystal goblet and filled it to the brim with milk. He was such a puzzling man.

He waited until she had the food on the table, and she sat down before he took his own seat. His graciousness made her feel at ease.

“See that?” she told Rory. “There's nothing wrong with good manners. Your mother must have been a charming woman,” she added to Cash.

Cash took a sip of milk before he answered. “Yes. She was.” He didn't enlarge on the brief admission.

Tippy swallowed hard. This was going to be an or deal if he was this tight-lipped all night. She recalled what Christabel Gaines had told her once about Cash, that his parents' marriage was broken up by a model. Apparently the memories were still painful.

“Rory, say grace,” she murmured quickly, adding another shock to Cash's growing collection of them.

They all bowed their heads. She lifted hers a minute later and gave Cash a mischievous glance. “Tradition is important. We didn't have any to start with so Rory and I decided on a few of our own. This was one.”

He picked up the serving bowl at her nod and helped himself to Stroganoff. “And the others?”

She smiled at him shyly. It made her look younger. She wasn't wearing makeup, except for a light lipstick, and her hair looked fresh and clean swinging loose around her shoulders.

“We add a new ornament to the Christmas tree every year and we hang a pickle in the tree.”

His fork poised in midair. “A what?”

“A pickle, Cash,” Rory replied. “It's a German custom, for good luck. Our grandfather on our mother's side was German.” He finished a bite of meat and washed it down with milk. “What were your people, Cash?”

“Martians, I believe,” Cash replied seriously.

Tippy's eyebrows lifted.

“Right.” Rory chuckled.

Cash grinned at him. “My mother's mother was from Andalusia, in Spain,” he said with a smile. “My father's people were Cherokee and Swiss.”

“Quite a combination,” Tippy remarked, studying him.

He stared at her curiously. “Your ancestors must have been Irish or Scottish,” he said, noting her hair color.

“That's what I think,” she agreed, but she didn't meet his eyes.

“Our mother's a redhead,” Rory interjected. “Tippy's is natural, too, but lots of people think she dyes it.”

Tippy took a long sip of milk and said nothing.

“I thought about dyeing mine purple, but my cousin, who was our former chief, said it might offend people.” Cash sighed. “That was about the same time he made me take off my earring,” he added disgustedly.

Tippy almost choked on her milk.

“You wore an earring?” Rory exclaimed, delighted.

“Just a simple gold one,” Cash admitted. “I was working for the government at the time and my boss was so politically correct that he wore a sign apologizing for stepping on bacteria and killing it.” He nodded emphatically. “That's a true story.”

Tippy was wiping her eyes. She laughed so hard that she was
almost crying. It had been years since she'd felt so lighthearted with anyone. From their rocky beginning to laughter was a big step.

“She never laughs,” Rory commented with a grin. “Especially on location shoots. She hates photographers on account of one made her sit on a rock in a bikini and she got bitten by a tern.”

“The stupid bird dive-bombed me five times,” Tippy had to admit. “On its final assault, it took part of my scalp away!”

“You should tell him about what the pigeons did to you on that shoot in Italy,” Rory prompted.

She shivered delicately. “I'm still trying to forget it. I used to like pigeons.”

“I love pigeons,” Cash said, grinning. “You haven't lived until you've had them delicately wrapped in puff pastry and fried in olive oil…”

“You barbarian!” Tippy exclaimed.

“It's okay, I eat snakes and lizards, too, I'm not strictly a pigeon man.”

Rory was all but rolling on the floor. “Gosh, Cash, this is going to be the best Christmas we've ever had!”

Tippy was inclined to agree. The man across from her bore very little resemblance to the antagonistic, hostile law enforcement officer she'd met while filming in Jacobsville, Texas. Everybody said Cash Grier was mysterious and dangerous. Nobody said he had a howling sense of humor.

Seeing her confusion, Cash leaned toward Rory and spoke in a loud whisper. “She's confused. Back in Texas, they told her I kept military secrets about flying saucers in a locked file.”

“I heard it was aliens,” Tippy murmured without cracking a smile.

“I do not keep aliens in my filing cabinet,” he said
indignantly. A minute later, his dark eyes started to twinkle. “I keep
those
in a closet in my house.”

Rory chuckled. Tippy was laughing, too.

“And I thought
actors
were nuts,” Tippy remarked on a sigh.

 

A
FTER LUNCH
, C
ASH
announced that he was taking them to the park. Tippy changed into an emerald-green pant suit and put her hair in a braid, adding just a touch of makeup to her oval face.

Her apartment was on a quiet, tree-lined street. It was a transitional neighborhood that had gone from fairly dangerous to middle class. The renovations were notice able, especially in Tippy's apartment, which had black wrought-iron banisters that led up the stone steps to her two-story apartment.

In her heyday as a model, she'd had money to burn, and briefly she'd lived off Park Avenue. But after her year's absence from the profession, when modeling jobs became thin on the ground, she had to budget. That was when she'd moved here, just before she started shooting the movie in Jacobsville that had unexpectedly restarted her career. She could probably have afforded something better now, but she'd become attached to her neighbors and the peaceful street where she lived. There was a bookstore just down at the corner and a food market past it. There was also a small mom-and-pop café which served the best coffee around. It was lovely in the spring. Now, with winter here, the trees were bare and the city looked cold and gray.

Cash's red Jaguar was parked just outside the steps that led into her apartment building. She did a double take when she saw it, but she didn't comment. Rory climbed into the back seat, leaving Tippy to sit up front with Cash.

“I thought Central Park was dangerous,” Rory remarked as
they strolled along the sidewalk after the short drive, glancing at the pretty carriages hitched to horses that were waiting for customers. “And should you leave your car parked there?” he added, looking over his shoulder at the beautiful car.

Cash shrugged. “Central Park is much safer now. And anybody who can get past my pet rattlesnake is welcome to drive my car.”

“Your what…?” Tippy burst out, looking around at her ankles.

He grinned. “My alarm system. That's what I call it. I've got an electronic monitoring system installed some where in the engine—if anybody tries to hot-wire the car, or steals it, it will take about ten minutes for the police to find it. Even in New York City,” he added smugly.

“No wonder you look so confident,” Rory said. “It sure is a beaut of a car, Cash,” he added wistfully.

“It is that,” Tippy remarked. “I can drive, but it's impractical to have a car in this city,” she said, indicating the abundance of taxis buzzing up and down the streets. “Usually, when I went on modeling jobs, I didn't have time to waste looking for parking spots. There are never enough. Cabs and subways are quicker when you're in a rush.”

“They are,” he agreed. He glanced down at her, fascinated by her fresh beauty that was only accentuated by the lack of makeup.

“Where are you shooting the movie?” he asked.

“Here in the city, mostly,” she said. “It's a comedy with touches of a spy drama mixed in. I have to wrestle with a foreign agent in one scene, and outrun a gunman in another.” She grimaced. “We only just started filming before we broke for the holidays, and I've got bruises everywhere already from the fight coordinator's choreography. I actually have to learn aikido for the film.”

“A useful martial art,” Cash remarked. “It was one of the first forms I learned.”

“How many do you know?” Rory asked at once. Cash shrugged. “Karate, tae kwon do, hapkido, kung fu, and a few disciplines that aren't in the book. You never know when you'll need to fall back on that training. It comes in handy in police work, now that I'm not stuck behind a desk all the time.”

“Judd said you worked in Houston with the D.A.'s office,” Tippy said.

He nodded. “I was a cybercrime expert. It wasn't challenging enough to suit me. I like something a little less routine and structured.”

“What do you do in Jacobsville?” Rory wanted to know. Cash chuckled. “I run from my secretaries,” he said sheepishly. “Just before I phoned your sister about coming up for the holidays, the new one quit and dumped a trash can over my head.” He made a face and touched his dark hair. “I'm still picking coffee grounds out of my hair.”

Tippy's green eyes widened. She stopped and looked up at Cash. She couldn't believe he was telling the truth. She remembered how efficiently he'd stopped the assistant director on her first film from touching her when she'd objected to his familiarity.

Rory was laughing. “Really?”

“She wasn't really cut out for police work,” he said. “She couldn't talk on the phone and type at the same time, so she didn't do much typing.”

“Why…?” Tippy fished.

“…did she empty a trash can on me?” he finished for her.

“Damned if I know! I told her not to force the lock on my filing cabinet, but she wouldn't listen. Is it
my
fault my baby
python, Mikey, jumped out of the drawer at her? She scared him. He has a nervous condition.”

They'd both stopped now and were staring at him.

He sighed. “Isn't it strange how snakes make some people nervous?” he asked philosophically.

“You have a snake named Mikey?” Tippy exclaimed.

“Cag Hart had an albino python that he gave to a breeder after he got married. The python's mate had a litter of the cute little things, and I asked for one. The day he gave me Mikey, I didn't have time to take him home so I put him in the filing cabinet, temporarily, in a little plastic aquarium with water and a limb to climb. It was working very nicely until my secretary jimmied the lock. Sadly, Mikey had escaped and was sitting on top of the files in the filing cabinet drawer.”

“What did she do?” Rory asked.

He scowled. “She scared the poor little thing half to death,” he muttered. “I'm sure he's going to have psychological problems for the rest of his…”

“Afterward!” Rory interrupted.

His dark eyebrows rose. “After she screamed bloody murder and threw my spare handcuffs at me, you mean?”

Tippy just stared at him, her green eyes twinkling.

“That was when she dumped my trash can over my head. It was almost worth it. She had a spike haircut and black lipstick and nail polish, and body piercings with little silver rings all over visible space. Mikey's slowly getting over the trauma. He's living in my house now.”