Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) (9 page)

“Junior,” Maddy added in a too-cheery chirp.

“I thought I advised you against bringing a vulnerable
infant out to this germ-laden barn. All these dirty animals.” Phyllis glared
down her narrow nose and pulled her green corduroy coat tighter around her. No
animals dirty or clean charged into the barn to attack her with dirt and germs.

“Bobby’s perfectly safe out here, Mrs. Patterson.”
Maddy reached for the baby.

Holt hung on, gave her a small shake of his head. The
last minutes had doused his arousal, but he’d still protect Bobby from these
intruders. “Four generations of Donovans have been raised in and around this
barn. Kids used to a little dirt don’t get sick as much as antiseptic kids. The
boy’s fine. Perfect.”

Lombard scribbled notes on a small leather-bound
notepad. “Shall we go in the house, Mr. Donovan? I’d like to ask you questions
about yourself, the home environment you offer your nephew, and the...caretaker
you’ve provided for him.”

“I’ll toddle along and leave you folks to your
interview.” Phyllis sidled toward the door. “Judging from what I just
witnessed, I wonder what
influences
this
poor innocent
might be
subject to. This
is
a bachelor household, after all.” She waited, eyes
narrowed.

Silence fell like a sack of grain.

Holt waited for some rebuttal to rise in his brain.
How could he deny what they saw? The pair had walked in on them nearly
swallowing each other. In another minute, he’d have had Maddy’s shirt off. He
hadn’t been involved with anyone for some time, but deprivation was no excuse
where Bobby’s welfare was concerned.

Olympia Lombard, aptly named for one who would deliver
judgments from on high, stood pencil poised, dark eyes glittering with
expectation and mouth pursed in disapproval.

Maddy slid her arm around Holt and snuggled close to
him. She beamed a smile that nearly toppled him like a buzz-sawed tree. “Oh,
but it won’t be a bachelor household for long. Holt and I are engaged.”

Chapter 9

Maddy held her breath for the explosion she could feel
stiffening Holt’s body like fizzing dynamite. She braced herself, but no blast
came.

The psychologist was smiling. Aha, the reason Holt
merely swallowed. Hard. And kissed Maddy’s temple. Phyllis Patterson, on the
other hand, would implode if her narrow features pinched any tighter.

He continued to stand there mute, his arms tight
around the baby. She’d get more help from a stone statue.

In lieu of a cattle prod, she dug her thumb into his
side. “Well, let’s go into the house. We don’t want to waste the good doctor’s
time, do we,
honey
?”

He sucked in a breath. “Sure, good idea. We can do the
interview inside.”

Maddy grabbed the infant seat and led the way. She’d
to nail Holt later on why he hadn’t mentioned this appointment. Her heart
galloped. What would the evaluator report to the judge? And Phyllis, what would
she think? She didn’t leave as she’d indicated, not after Maddy’s impulsive
announcement. She trooped inside the kitchen with them.

Holt secured the baby in his seat, and Maddy fetched
his key ring toy, which Bobby promptly jammed in his mouth.

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Donovan,” Dr. Lombard said,
surveying the kitchen with a sharp eye. “I’d like to see the house first. The
baby’s room and yours, and the living room.”

“I’ll stay here with Bobby,” Maddy said. She needed a
breather.

She brewed coffee, decaf because no one needed the
jolt of caffeine. Then she sat and played peek-a-boo with Bobby while Holt
conducted the tour. She couldn’t discern the words from the deep rumbling of
his voice, now modulated, no longer strangled with shock. Interspersed were
murmurs and questions in the psychologist’s smooth voice. And disdainful
humphs
from Phyllis Patterson. Probably doing the white-glove test on the furniture
and window ledges. When they finished with the downstairs, Dr. Lombard pointed
to the drop-down door for the attic. The attic? What did she think might be
hidden up there—a gambling casino? Drugs? Terrorists?

When Holt brought the women back to the kitchen, Maddy
set out a plate of Espie’s sugar cookies and poured coffee. She crossed her
fingers the sweet goodness of the cookies would soothe the visitors. Dr.
Lombard and Phyllis sat on one side of the rectangular table across from Holt
and Maddy. At the end, Bobby looked on from his padded seat, interest bright in
his blue eyes.

Dr. Lombard set aside the legal pad on which she’d
made notes during the house tour. From her briefcase she took a printed
questionnaire. She started with basic information about first Holt and Bobby,
and then Maddy. Education, work history, any marriages, legal problems—all very
factual. From there the questions ranged from the absurdly personal to the
insultingly invasive.

“I see beer in the refrigerator.” Dr. Lombard pursed
her lips and looked back and forth between the two of them. “How much alcohol
is consumed in this household?”

Holt cleared his throat. Clearly tamping down temper.
“I’ve drunk two beers since I bought that six-pack over a week ago. As you can
see, Maddy’s had none.”

The woman ticked off items on her questionnaire. She
set down the pen and studied them over her reading glasses. “Ten days is a
short time to be together and then engaged.”

“We’ve known each other since childhood.” Probably the
psychologist already knew that and about her and Rob but maybe she asked to see
what they would have to say about the past. “Old friends, you might say.” She
stretched her mouth into a smile and crossed mental fingers it didn’t look too
phony.

“Being here in the house—” Holt blinked twice as he
apparently saw the implication of what he’d said, even though their belongings
were in separate bedrooms “—and sharing old times and taking care of Bobby
changed the friendship. To, um, more.”

“I see no ring on your finger, Ms. McCoy. Just how
real is this engagement?”

“Hmph,” Phyllis huffed. “No wedding plans anytime
soon, I’ll bet.”

Maddy linked her hands in her lap. Dammit, her
spur-of-the-moment lie wasn’t going to save Bobby. “I don’t need a ring for our
engagement to be real.”

Holt looped an arm around Maddy’s shoulder, and she
gratefully leaned against him, breathing in his familiar smoky male scent. “We
haven’t had time. The ranch and little Bobby keep both of us da— darn busy.”

“Brr-rrrt,” Bobby said, as if in confirmation. He
rattled his key ring. When the toy clattered to the floor, he squealed, ready
to play his favorite game. He dropped a toy; Maddy or Holt retrieved it. Pretty
smart for an infant so young.
Good timing, Bobby.
She scooped up the key
ring.

Phyllis Patterson swooped over and plucked up the
baby, holding him tightly to her. She jiggled him up and down and glared at
Maddy.

The germ issue again, the old biddy. Smiling sweetly,
she carried the key ring to the sink. “You can’t give it back to him yet, Mrs.
Patterson, not until I wash it.”

When she saw the evaluator write a note on her yellow
pad, she chalked up a mental point for their side. Bobby’s little face crumpled
and turned red.
Uh oh.
In a moment, he’d scream bloody murder. Keeping
an eye on him, she quickly washed the key toy, but handing it to him now
wouldn’t stop the coming storm.

Holt’s jaw worked as his gaze sharpened on the
building meltdown. He pushed his chair back, ready to rescue Bobby. “Dr.
Lombard, what if we were getting married...soon?”

The psychologist leaned forward. “
Are
you
getting married?”

Phyllis’s mouth pruned. Waiting for his reply, she was
oblivious to Bobby’s distress. Tears filled his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his
little fists in fury as his lungs fired up a piercing wail. Phyllis patted his
back and tried to rock him, but he would not be calmed or mollified. His
high-pitched cries were enough to spook cattle on the next ranch.

“Well, we haven’t set a date.” Holt’s brows scrunched
together, and a vein in his neck throbbed. He reached for Bobby, but Phyllis
backed away, shaking her head.

Oh God, he’s terrified he’ll lose Bobby. She
couldn’t let that happen.
“What if we
were
married?” Maddy raised
her voice to be heard over Bobby’s howls. “What would that mean for the baby?
Would it make Holt’s case easier?”

Dr. Lombard’s gaze flicked from Bobby, shrieking and
straining in the arms of his increasingly distraught grandmother, to Holt, then
to Maddy. A pensive expression on her face, she removed her glasses and tapped
the earpiece on her papers. She pushed to her feet. “It’s not my decision, of
course. Judge Gilbert will examine all the facts, including my report. But I
believe, yes, a marriage would make a difference.”

*****

“Engaged?
Engaged? Getting married?
One hell of
a crazy idea. You must have...must have been into the damn horse liniment!”
Sputtering, Holt dragged Maddy by the elbow onto the porch.

Her eardrums smarted at his accusation. Good thing
Bobby was in his crib and out of earshot. She pasted on a smile and waved as
the custody evaluator drove away, followed by Phyllis Patterson’s sedan. “You
didn’t rush to deny it.”

“How could I? Denial would have made a bad situation
worse. What a stupid idea. McCoy, why couldn’t you have held your tongue?”

She gave a huff of indignation. The spur-of-the-moment
announcement wasn’t her finest moment. And she wouldn’t analyze why that
particular idea popped out of her mouth. Not now anyway. “They caught us
red-handed, or should I say red-lipped? I didn’t hear
you
offering any brilliant
ideas. As far as I could tell, you’d gone as mute as a mime. When you finally
found your voice, you added more fiction. And you could’ve warned me they were
coming.”

“The reason I came to the barn was to tell you about
the appointment. But I got distracted.” He massaged his nape and scowled.
“Those women arrived an hour early. Phyllis wasn’t part of the deal.”

“So she weaseled her way in.” No wonder Holt was so
afraid he’d lose Bobby to the grandparents.

His eyes as cold as bluestone and his expression as
hard, he slammed a hand against the porch support. “Fuck! You’d think it was
the early 1900’s instead of the next century. Do they expect single people to
have chaperones?”

“I’m sure she’s witnessed way more than she found
here. Seeing my belongings in one room and yours in another seemed to satisfy
her sense of propriety, but not Phyllis’s. Bobby’s her only link to her dead
daughter. I suspect she’ll do whatever it takes to get custody.”

Scowling and raking a hand through his short hair,
Holt prowled the length of the porch. “What am I supposed to tell her or the
judge when you light out in a week or so?”

Maddy rubbed the bridge of her nose. The longer she
stayed, the more she burrowed into Holt and Bobby’s life, the harder she’d find
it to extricate herself. But she owed them her help. Besides, she’d blurted out
the words that fenced her in.

“Like I told you, I’m between gigs. I’m not expected
in New York until June first, so I could stay until then. Is that long enough?”

“Four weeks? Maybe. Chris Hawke said these custody
things could take months. We could make it look like we’re planning a wedding.”
He leaned against the porch rail and eyed her with suspicion. “You promise not
to take off once your Range Rover’s sold? Or some new assignment pops up?”

Maddy should have expected he’d check up on her. After
all, he was a trained investigator. “How do you know my truck’s for sale?”

“I saw it in front of the garage when I drove into
Rangewood to load up wood chips at the sawmill. Big For Sale sign plastered on
the windshield. A clue even I couldn’t miss.” The wry sarcasm didn’t alter his
stone face.

She shifted her feet. “The transmission’s shot. It
would cost more than the vehicle’s worth to fix it. I bought the old girl
second, maybe third hand. I’m not much better at maintenance than Rob, and it
sits in storage most of the time. I forgot to mention it.”

“Why didn’t you just rent when it broke down? Or buy a
new SUV?” He stalked across the porch to stand toe to toe with her. His steely
blue glare was meant to intimidate.

Her pulse rattled. Why she didn’t beat the hell out of
her. Had she subconsciously stranded herself so she had to stay in Rock Valley?
With Holt? She shoved away the questions. “I had to decide what to do. You
know, weigh my options. Not rush into anything. I didn’t want to make an—”

“Impulse buy? You? The woman who hot-footed it on her
wedding day, who showed up here unannounced, and who blurted out we were
engaged? No, that woman wouldn’t want to make an impulsive move.”

“Back off, Donovan. I’m not some drug dealer you’re
interrogating.” Her Rover had been her only real asset. Not the time to admit
that. But she could tell him part of the truth. “I have a temporary cash flow
problem.”

Something in her tone of voice or her eyes must have reached
him because his expression softened. “Low on funds. Or tapped out, like the
silver mine on Ghost Mountain?”

His warm tone melted her bravado. “I haven’t been paid
for the last job, and most of my money’s in camera equipment. And investments. How
did you guess?”

“When we picked up your stuff that first day, your
story about checking out of the Valley Motel was damned lame, and I saw your
sleeping bag—”

“In the back of the truck.” Interesting he’d said
nothing at the time.

“Then in Fort Adams when I took Bobby to the doctor, I
figured you’d buy some feminine junk or at least clothes in one of those cutesy
shops on Fort Street.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “When you met me
back at the truck, I nearly fell over with shock that all you had was a camera
memory card.”

“I needed more gigabytes.” The strength of his grasp,
his masculine scent seeped into her and made her crave his kiss again. How
ironic that the attraction she’d fled so long ago was holding her here in steel
manacles.

Because Holt didn’t press her further, she felt
compelled to reassure him.

“Look, I’m all right. My agent assures me I’ll get a
check soon. Then I’ll buy a new vehicle, and I promise not to run out on you.”

“Hell, that’s damned reassuring.”

She drew a deep breath as she tamped down her temper.
“I’ll help you with Bobby and finding Rob’s killer for as long as I can.” She
drew a deep breath. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“Trust you. Not likely. But I’ll drop it. For now.”
His eyes said he hadn’t dropped the issue far. “We do have a new problem.”

“The engagement. I’m sure we can explain our way out
of it when the time comes. Say you changed your mind.”

“Big of you to make me the undependable one.”
Frowning, he cut his glance away, but still his hands cupped her shoulders. His
thumbs traced lazy circles on her collarbones. “No, the kiss is the problem.
This...chemistry between us. I can’t afford the complication.”

Chemistry? A hot spurt bubbled up, but she squashed
it. Maybe chemistry was all they had. She’d destroyed their friendship when she
split on Rob. Any further involvement with Holt now was out of the picture.

He was strong, honorable, and responsible, everything
she remembered and more. But Rob’s ghost made a formidable barrier to a
relationship. Especially with a man who figured she’d run at the first
opportunity.

She stretched her spine to her full height, still too
short to look him in the eye. If only he would look
her
in the eye. “I
don’t need that complication either. From now on, keep your hands to yourself.”

He pulled back and gaped at those appendages as though
they’d held and caressed her on their own.