Agent in Training (3 page)

He heard Mia’s disappointed sigh.

“You didn’t even want to stay at DNS a month ago. What changed?”

Nick closed his eyes, the image of Shiloh Templar played around in his mind. “I have to think of my future, Mia. I can’t hang out at the beach and surf for the rest of my life. I hate to cut you short, but I gotta go. Bye.”

Nick hung up before she had a chance to say another word. He didn’t need her trying to sway him from his plans. He knew exactly what he wanted and was determined to show the new director she was wrong about him. And to do so, he was willing to sacrifice his social calendar, not to mention his sex life, in the process.

He intended to do whatever it took to keep his job.

Shiloh took off her glasses and rubbed her temples. Her head throbbed. She’d been pouring over agent files all day and still hadn’t made any decisions on which men would be let go, or transferred to their overseas offices. Some of their agents had been at the Department since the beginning in the early 70s and would, in her view, fight retirement.

Hank Dawson and Nicholas Trent were their newest recruits, both starting at DNS within weeks of each other and immediately partnered together. Each had fathers who’d worked for the agency. Hank’s father had retired whereas Nick’s had been killed on the job.

Shiloh couldn’t fault them for using their ties to get their positions, but Nick was hardly Phillip Trent––a highly revered agent, according to what she’d read.

Her blood still boiled every time she thought of Nicholas and his ‘sexual advances’ threat. But at least she knew she could make the undeserving scoundrel regret his scheme to keep his job. His first assignment since she’d taken office was to stake out a sewage treatment plant. How utterly fitting for a man who reeked of bullshit. She hoped the stench filtered into his brain and made him realize his days at DNS were numbered.

Shiloh rose from her desk and pushed thoughts of Nicholas Trent away. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. She was going to visit her father. Days had passed since she’d seen him and she was sure he wouldn’t be happy with his only child. Especially since she’d moved him from a home where he had friends that had kept him occupied when she couldn’t be there.

She walked down the hall to the elevator and pressed the down button. The door slid open and inside, leaning against the back wall was the man she’d been avoiding like a bad rash.

Nicholas Trent. He wore a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans that reflected the color of his eyes. His feet were in flip-flops. On his nose was a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses, and his hair spiked in that wet look she couldn’t figure out.

Hardly regulation uniform, but somehow fitting––for him.

His left brow arched when she hesitated before stepping on.

“Afraid of being alone with me?” He grinned from ear to ear. “I know you find me hard to resist.”

Shiloh snorted in a very unladylike fashion at his comment, then stepped inside, refusing to allow him to goad her or reveal she was intimidated by this surfer-boy.

On the ride down she focused her attention on the door. She wouldn’t hand him any more fuel to throw on the fire.

He cleared his throat behind her. “I wanted to thank you for the sewage plant assignment. Finally a stakeout where I can dig right in and get my hands dirty.”

She heard the smile in his voice. Shiloh rolled her eyes. The man was insufferable.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. “I thought it would be perfect for you, a man who smells of something foul.”

“What? You don’t like my cologne? You could have just said something.”

Shiloh clenched her fists in anger. “You are unbelievable. Is everything a joke to you?”

“No, but you might want to lighten up a bit before that starchy, agent protocol manual gets stuck up your ass.”

The elevator doors opened and he walked past her, then abruptly turned around as if he were going to apologize. “Wait, I think it’s too late,” he said instead, then swaggered off.

Shiloh stood in the elevator doors, watching him strut toward the front entrance and noting the rip in the rear end of his jeans.

Her mouth gaped as she inwardly seethed.
Dismissal. One month and you’re out of here
.

She left the building more determined than ever to show Nicholas Trent the door.

Nick sipped his coffee slowly then crammed another stick of Juicy Fruit gum in his mouth to block the stench in the air.

Hank sat in the driver’s seat across from him, devouring a stale donut. How the man could eat anything with that foul odor around them was beyond Nick. He was lucky he could stomach coffee.

“How did you talk the director into allowing you to stay at DNS, Nick? She told me that my performance record was mediocre at best and I’d probably be the first to go. I came in before you. What did you say to her that got you your reprieve?” Hank eyed him closely.

Nick scratched his head. “I have one month to prove myself. If I haven’t by then, I’m gone. Our only option here, that I can see, is to crack a big case. And with the assignments we’re getting, I don’t see that happening.”

“She gave me a month too, but I’m not optimistic. Why would she give us an opportunity to save our jobs, then turn around and sabotage them?”

“It’s my fault, Hank. She hates me, and as my partner, you’re paying the price.”

“You mean there’s a woman out there who hates Nicholas Trent? Mr. suave-beach-boy himself? No way. She probably really wants you bad, but is just playing hard to get.”

“Oh yeah, she’s playing hard all right, hard-assed.”

“That reminds me, I saw the director working out in the weight room a couple of nights ago and she really does have a nice ass. Real tight. She’s definitely not what you’d expect a thirty-five-year-old to look like.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Is that how old she is? How’d you find that out?”

“Sandra told me. She saw it in her file.”

Sandra? Old Iron Maiden’s secretary.

“Why’d Sandra tell you?”

“We’re sort of seeing each other, but don’t tell anyone. They could terminate her since they re-enacted the no fraternization clause.”

“Right. No dating anyone from the Department.”

Hank nodded. “Exactly.”

“I’ve never met anyone at the agency I’d be willing to break that clause for,” Nick said. Without invitation, a provocative image of Shiloh Templar, her ass in a pair of tight sweatpants filtered into his thoughts and wreaked havoc on his body.
Damn
. Obviously he needed to get laid bad – if an image of the Ice Princess caused his body to stir.

A movement from the corner of Nick’s eye drew his attention away from the sexual imaginings. He watched closely as a shadowed figure slipped behind a building inside the plant.

“Someone’s sneaking around inside the perimeter. Let’s go.”

They quickly exited the car, unsnapped their holsters, retrieved their Glocks and crept around the corner of the building.

Nick’s heart raced with a mixture of pent up adrenaline, and even more… apprehension. Danger registered full force in his mind. What if it was the alleged bomber? What if he had a gun? He’d never been in a shoot-out before, and the idea was unnerving to say the least.

The two men made their way around the outer edge of the structure where Nick had seen the shadow disappear. With backs against the wall, they eased over to the brick building and stopped. Nick’s heart hammered wildly in his ears. A man crouched with a soda can-sized cylinder in front of him, on the ground.

“Freeze!” Nick commanded.

The intruder whipped around.

Nick saw the glint of a gun barrel and heard the whine of a bullet flying past his ear before it bounced off the walls of the old building. A burning sensation sliced into his side, instantly spreading out through his body.

He fired back at the assailant, hitting him square in the chest.

The man fell to the ground.

Nick looked down and watched his shirt turn bright red…then he dropped to his knees.

CHAPTER FOUR

Shiloh brushed a thin wisp of gray hair from her father’s forehead and studied his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful—so like the man he used to be.

Three years ago he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and her world had come crashing down around her. He was all she had left; she’d lost her mother when she was fourteen.

Her dad, Ben Templar, had been a brilliant man until the disease struck him at age sixty. At that time he had been a professor of Literature. A man with a zest for life and a love of learning. She still couldn’t believe he’d been debilitated to the point he couldn’t recognize the written word any longer. He struggled to do the simplest of tasks. His beloved authors––Hawthorne, Keats, Shelley––were long-lost memories for him now.

Most of the time he recognized Shiloh, though on his worst days he thought she was her mother. But once in a while she saw a glimmer of the man he’d been, the one she so admired and loved.

She lived for those days.

His brown eyes fluttered open, filled with confusion, then panic.

“Daddy, it’s me, Shiloh.” She hoped her voice would relieve his fears.

His gaze darted around the room. Terror filled his eyes. This was going to be a bad day—the kind of one she dreaded, and would later cry about.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I’m here.” She grabbed his hand and held it tight, even when he tried to pull free.

Once the initial shock of his diagnosis had worn off, she’d learned as much as she could about his disease. She knew a person with Alzheimer’s did much better in familiar surroundings. Change made them nervous, more excitable, and it was best to give them as much structure as possible. But with her move from Seattle to Washington DC, Shiloh couldn’t leave him behind, though now she felt guilty that she hadn’t. It had been a purely selfish act on her part to bring him along. She wanted him close, but he’d been happy in Seattle, or at least as happy as a man in confinement could be.

“Daddy, Mrs. Wilson said you wouldn’t eat anything today. Are you feeling okay?”

His hollow eyes narrowed. “I did eat.”

“No, Daddy. You ate yesterday. You have to eat every day.”

He turned toward her, his expression fierce. “I don’t want to eat today. Now leave me alone. You haven’t come to see me in a long time. I don’t want you here.”

Shiloh took in a deep breath. “Daddy, it’s only been two days. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to get settled into my new job. I told you about that, right?”

“No, you’ve been gone for years, Karen. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Shiloh’s stomach clenched. He thought she was her mother again. “No, Daddy. I’m your daughter––not Momma.”

“Go away,” he bellowed, shoving her off the edge of the bed.

Shiloh caught herself before she fell to the floor.

An older, heavyset nurse came running in from the hallway. “Is there a problem?”

With a look of contempt, he jabbed a finger at Shiloh. “I want her to go away.”

Tears filled Shiloh’s eyes at the hatred she saw in the depths of his gaze.

“Now, you really don’t mean that, Mr. Templar.”

He shook his head. “Yes, I do. I want her to leave.”

“Maybe you’d better go, Ms. Templar.”

The nurse led her out into the hall and stopped by the nurses’ station to speak to her. “He’s been really bad all day. Screaming about his wife never coming to see him. He’ll be better tomorrow, you’ll see.”

Wiping at her eyes, Shiloh tried to hold back the full-fledged sobs threatening to erupt. He’d never been that sharp with her. His anger terrified her. Had she made a mistake by taking this job and moving them across the country? Was her father declining more rapidly because of her bad choices?

The nurse touched her shoulder. “Go home. I’ll call you if there’s any change.”

Shiloh shrugged, feeling defeated. “All right.” At this point what else could she do?

She blew out a breath and started for the elevator.

What was next for her?

Guilt filled her as she left Oak Haven. Maybe she should resign from her new post and go back to Seattle—back to a life where her father had seemed happier?

Nick pushed the cup away, tired of being treated like an invalid. “If I want a drink, I’ll get it myself, Hank.”

“I feel bad, Nick.” Hank hung his head. “If I hadn’t panicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Nick smiled weakly at him. “It wasn’t your fault. I should have fired first and asked questions later. Besides, it’s nothing. A little scratch.”

“Yeah, right. You lost your appendix.”

“Hell, I didn’t need it. What do they do, anyway?”

Hank scratched his chin. “I believe they filter toxins from our bodies.”

Nick gave a lopsided grin. “No toxins here. I’ll be fine.” He shifted… and flinched with pain.
Damn
. For a little appendix, it sure as hell hurt to be without it. “You know, this could look good on my resume. Shot in the line of duty. They give medals for that stuff, don’t they?”

“This guy could’ve killed you. Think about that, Nick?”

“I will. Now get out of here.” Nick pulled himself farther up on the pillow. “Don’t you have a pretty young secretary you could be scoring with, instead of hanging out here and torturing me? If our roles were reversed, you can bet I’d choose getting some action over babysitting a partner.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Nick grinned wickedly. “We have a winner. Yes. Get lost. As soon as you leave, I can call a nurse in here and ask for a sponge bath. Maybe you and I can both get lucky.”

Hank shook his head, then grabbed his coat off the chair, and headed for the door. “One of these days that sense of humor of yours is going to cost you, Nick. Life isn’t always fun and games, you know.”

“True, but think of the alternative. Would you rather me be like Director Templar? Hell, I don’t know how that woman can walk with that stick up her ass. Now go, before I ask you to help me with my bedpan.”