Family Honor (6 page)

"Sister Catherine
know
much?" Stone looked from Mel to Nate.

Mel shrugged. "She was as close to Linda as anyone the past few weeks, yet she really didn't know anything about where the woman
went
every day. I guess Linda wasn't the kiss and tell type."

"Not to a nun, anyway," Stone mused.

They spent the next hour filling each other in on the afternoon's events. Linda's story of spousal abuse and the methods she chose to overcome it was a dark and gritty tale. Nate was so engrossed in the details he jumped when a tall, dark-haired man stuck his head in the room.

"Quitting time, kiddos.
We're all going to Morgan's for some beer and anything-but-shop talk." The man focused on Nate. "You're invited too, of course.
Won't kill anyone to drink with the feds for one night."

Nate waggled his brows. "It might."

Everyone chuckled and Mel said, "Thanks for the invite Tanner, but I don't think so. This case is pretty heavy. Not sure I'm in the mood for Morgan's."

"Buzz kill," Tanner made a face at Mel. "It's Friday night.
Time to relax and unwind, put all this nastiness behind you.
Besides, you know
Cappie's
expecting you. See you there." He walked out.

Mel groaned and rolled her head from side to side, stretching her neck.
"Tanner's in administration.
They don't have to work Saturdays."

"Nope," Stone agreed. "Paper clip counting can wait until Monday. But a beer sounds pretty good, Mel. What do you say, Agent Willis?"

"I say you're supposed to be calling me Nate, and who's this Cappie that's expecting you?
Boyfriend?"

Stone opened his mouth but Mel answered first. "Good grief, no.
He's
the bartender there. He's like, what, sixty?" She shot a dirty look at Stone.

Stone shrugged and nodded, but
didn't
speak.

Nate
didn't
understand the looks passing between them, but he definitely wanted to know more. "I'm up for a beer. They have food there?"

"Good food," Stone replied enthusiastically.

Nate looked at Mel.

"The food is really good. The place will be crawling with cops, is
all.
If you really want to go, I guess I could grab a beer and a bite to eat."

A perky brunette with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, much like Mel's, joined them. "Where are we going?" she asked in a high pitched voice. She glanced at Nate and did a double take. "Hello, you must be SSA Willis. I'm Samantha Becker." She offered her hand and they shook.

She was tiny, small-boned, but very pretty. Nate tried not to squeeze too firmly, her hand seemed like it could be crushed by his firm grip. He had several inches on her height-wise, as well.
"Pleasure to meet you."
He smiled warmly.

Stone moved in closer to her and grinned. "I like working with Sam." Standing next to her made him appear taller.

Sam backhanded his chest gently.
"Dork."

"We're going to Morgan's for a beer and some dinner," he told her.

"Great!" She smiled at Nate. "Have you ever been there?"

"Nope.
But you all have me intrigued. Shall we go, and pick this up again tomorrow?"

"Why not?"
Mel
rose
, her demeanor less than enthused.

Determined to turn her mood around, Nate snatched his suit coat off the back of a chair. "Since I don't know the town, why don't I ride with you? You can drop me off here later, and point me in the direction of my hotel."

She studied him skeptically for a moment. "I suppose I could do that."

"Great." He motioned for her to go before him. Following her once again, Nate grinned at the view.

Chapter Three

Mel entered Morgan's, the sports bar just down the street from the cop shop, and held the door behind her for Nate.

"Thanks." He stepped in and let the door close, glancing around. "Nice place. Think they have enough TVs?"

She chuckled. There was a flat screen on every wall, though most of them were close-captioned because the sound had been turned down. "Can you ever have too many TVs during baseball season?"

He smiled. "Oh, I love baseball season. Around here, that would mean, what? Cheering for the Kansas City Royals?"

"Of course."
She stepped up to the long, gold-trimmed bar and snatched a pretzel from a bowl sitting there. "I suppose you're a Texas Ranger fan?"

"No, no, no." He shook his head and grabbed his own pretzel twist. "Not even at gunpoint. I'm a Democrat, you know."

"Now how would I know that? Besides, I don't think our former Republican president owns the team anymore."

He feigned a shudder. "Once a Republican, always a Republican. Growing up I was subjected to the Minnesota Twins because of the proximity to home. But secretly
I've
always been a New York Yankee's fan. They have such a great history."

She eyed him thoughtfully. "That suits you. I can see why
you'd
like the arrogant Yankees and their high-brow owners. Oh, and George Steinbrenner was Republican if I recall."

Shaking his head, Nate waved a pretzel at her. "Ask anyone who knew
him,
he had the heart of a Democrat."

"And Stephan King has the heart of a small boy. He said he keeps it in a jar on his desk."

Her reply caught him off guard and they both burst into laughter.

Her father approached from behind the bar. He looked as handsome as he had while she was growing up. Tall and muscular, he still sported a thick head of wavy dark hair. It was silver now, and he walked with a pronounced limp from his career-ending injury. But he still cut a sharp figure. Mel smiled.
"Hey Cappie.
I'd
like you to meet the FBI agent sent to help out on the cheerleader case. This is SSA Nate Willis. Nate, this is Cappie, the bartender I told you
about
. He's retired from the force after thirty years."

"It's a pleasure, sir." Nate extended his hand and the men shook.

"FBI, huh?"
Cappie raised a brow. "This case caught somebody's attention. What, the brass
didn't
think my girl here could figure it out on her own? She has a damned impressive solve rate, I happen to know."

Mel waved him off and caught his eye. "Stop it, you big flirt. I keep telling you, I
can't
run away with you. I'm forbidden to marry." She munched a pretzel and shrugged off Nate's inquisitive glance. "It's a religious thing."

Cappie snorted. "Yeah, right, whatever." He seemed confused for a second then caught on to her deception. "A guy can dream, though, can't he? And I always say, 'when you dream, dream big'."

Mel grinned. "You and some country singer say that. Hey,
I'm
going to go look for a table. Keep my FBI friend company until I get back." She strolled to the back of the room, where she spotted Stone and Becker already seated with Tanner and a few other cops.

"Curtis." Stone motioned to the two empty chairs by him.

She meandered that way and nodded. "Hey."

"Where's Willis?" he asked.

"I left him alone with Cappie. We'll see how that goes." She kept her gaze on the two men chatting genially at the bar.

"Does he know Cappie's your father?"

"No! And nobody better tell him, either." She cast her evilest glance around the table.

"Poor dumb son-of-a-bitch." Tanner shook his head woefully. "Hope he's not up there right now asking Cappie the surest way to get into your pants."

Mel laughed and winked at Tanner. "He doesn't need to ask Cappie that, he could just ask me."

While the people around the table snickered, she made her way back to the bar to put her new friend and her father out of their misery. "Found our table," she told them. "How are you boys getting along?"

"Super." Nate nursed a tall beer. "I now know that the Royals suck at about the same level as the Rangers."

"Hey, I never said that!" Cappie protested. "We have a series under our belt."

"Yeah, and the Rangers almost have one. Wait, almost have two. And then there's the Yankees, with twenty-something series wins and twice that in pennants."

Cappie waved a hand.
"Yankees, pshaw.
Better
be careful rooting for the Yankees around here. People either love 'em or they hate 'em, but
everybody's
got an opinion. Some get passionate about it."

"Right up your alley." Mel looked at Nate, then at her father. "He's a passionate kind of guy."

"Oh yeah?"
Cappie scowled. "Well keep your passion in check, boy.
You're
here to do a job, remember? Damn shame what's been happening to those women."

Nate tossed back the last of his brew and set the glass on the bar with a
thud
. "All under control my friend. Now, if you'd be so kind as to bring me another, I think I'd like to find that table and order myself a thick steak."

"Right this way." Mel picked up the full beer her father had placed in front of her and winked at him. She pointed to Nate's beer, and once
he'd
claimed it, she led him to their table.

"Agent Willis!"
Samantha Becker stood and offered her chair.
"Right here."
She maneuvered her position so she sat between him and Mel.

Nate shot Mel a questioning glance.

She shrugged and raised her beer to him, then took a sip. She slid into the chair between Becker and Stone, and watched Nate, obviously uncomfortable, as he sat next to the other detective.

I could have helped him out
. She let her mind wander, envisioned sitting next to him, his knee rubbing hers as they talked and laughed. The thought sent a tingle down her spine to all points south and she shook her head to clear it.
He's
FBI for goodness sake!
Here for the duration of the case then gone again, to who knows where.

San Antonio?
Not that far away by plane. Mel forced
herself
to stop daydreaming and drained the last of her beer. As she set her glass
down
she noticed Nate had finished his drink, too, and Tanner was motioning for a waitress to bring refills.

Her head spun and she realized she
hadn't
eaten anything all day besides a couple bites of a roll for breakfast and three sliders in the car at lunchtime. "No more for me, thanks," she said to Sara, one of their usual waitresses.

"Cappie cut you off at one?" Sara grinned.

"I'm a big girl, I can do what I want," Mel replied, quickly changing the subject. "And right now, I want to dive into a quesadilla with spiced grilled chicken and guacamole."

"You got it.
Anybody else ready to order?"
She went around the table and jotted down orders.

When she got to Nate he said, "I'd like the best steak you've got, king cut, medium-rare, loaded baked potato on the side."

"Coming right up.
I'll bring those beers in a jiff." Sara hurried off.