The Marriage Profile (18 page)

“Not me, Harte. No way would I ever let a dame tie me up in knots the way Mason's done Wainwright.” And even as he said it, Sean knew it was a lie because he'd let Annabelle Harte tie him up in so many knots he had trouble even looking at another woman.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe he's still in love with her? And that she might still love him?”

“Nope.”

“I forgot,” she said, disdain in her voice. “You're the Ice Man. The guy who loves the ladies and leaves them.”

“That's me,” he said. “Now, why don't you be a good little agent and go see what the boys have got for us. Maybe we'll be lucky and wrap this case up in time to make it home for the weekend.” And maybe he'd finish this assignment before he made an ass of himself and confessed that he was in love with her.

At the sound of her retreating, Sean sighed and picked up the binoculars again. He had a job to do, he reminded
himself, and went into full agent mode. He'd worked too long and too hard setting up this operation and had practically forced Haley Mercado to help get this far. Having Haley's baby kidnapped had nearly derailed everything. That he and his people had been unable to find the little girl had been a major frustration. But having Callaghan pull strings to bring the Mason woman in for the case had been a bigger source of irritation. He didn't believe in psychics. It's why he'd told his boss he wasn't going to work with the woman—just as he hadn't worked with the sheriff. He couldn't afford to let anyone find out that Haley Mercado was the baby's mother. But that didn't mean he was going to sit back and let the woman or her ex-husband sheriff screw up everything now. He wasn't. Not when he was so close to putting cuffs on Del Brio. He was going to bring down Del Brio and the rest of the crime family and put an end to their new line of business—smuggling stolen Mayan artifacts out of Mexico. Thanks to Haley's taped conversations at the Lone Star Country Club, he knew a major shipment was being made soon. He'd also made sure that Del Brio himself would be on hand to make the exchange of goods for money. He was close, closer than they'd ever been before to nailing the crime lords. And no way did he intend to let some hick sheriff and the guy's ex-wife screw things up now.

 

“What is it?” Angela asked Justin late the next afternoon as he turned in his seat and looked through the rear window.

“There's been a green sedan following us for the last hour,” Justin explained, and turned back around. “I wanted to see if he was still back there. He's not.”

“We were being followed and you didn't tell me?”

It was late already, sunset less than thirty minutes away.
And so far, the day had been a complete bust, except for the spy game someone had been playing with them. “I figured it was probably your friend Mercado or one of those goons he hired to act as your bodyguard.” Which was what he had assumed when he'd spotted the blue pickup truck tailing them for a good part of yesterday.

“If someone's been following us, it wasn't Ricky or anyone sent by him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because Ricky gave me his word that he would back off, and Ricky has never gone back on his word to me.”

She said it with such conviction that Justin believed her. Which meant that someone else had been tailing them. But who?

“Just up ahead is where I took the wrong road and got lost.”

“Go ahead and take it again. Let's see where it leads.”

It led to nowhere, Justin soon discovered as they drove for another twenty minutes during which time the road itself became narrower and less traveled. By the time they'd pulled to a fork in the road, the condition of the roadway had diminished considerably, which the throbbing in his shoulder attested to. They also hadn't seen another vehicle for more than twenty miles.

“Right up ahead is where I pulled off.”

“Let's do it, then,” Justin told her, and she pulled the truck over to the side of the road. Exiting the truck, he walked down the road a piece, noted the overgrown brush and neglect. And all he could think of was how vulnerable Angela would have been all alone out here in the middle of nowhere.

“There's an old ranch house of some kind farther down this road,” she told him. “It looked abandoned.”

“It probably is. If I remember correctly, about twenty-
five years ago there was talk of putting a highway through here. Most of the places along this stretch were bought up then and the people moved out. But politics being what they are, it all got changed and the highway was built somewhere else. As far as I know, this place has been uninhabited since then.”

“But I thought I saw tire tracks down here,” Angela said, and continued ahead of him along the uneven path.

Justin stayed close on her heels and studied the tracks, noted the cigarette butts tossed in the brush. He looked up ahead and made out the shadows of an old place that appeared empty. It was too isolated, he thought, that lawman's instinct kicked in again. He didn't want Angela out here in the open. He'd have to come back another time—alone—to investigate. “Probably just kids out joyriding,” he told her. “It's getting dark. We better get back.”

“We wasted a whole day because of me, didn't we?” she asked once they were in the truck and headed home.

“Not wasted,” Justin told her. “We had to check it out.”

“I can't help feeling I've let her down.”

“Who?”

“Lena. She's counting on us to find her, Justin. We have to find her. Before it's too late.”

“We will,” he told her, not wanting to be moved by the depth of her compassion and commitment, but moved all the same. He also didn't want to admit, even to himself, that he was just as worried about the little girl as Angela was. “Maybe tomorrow. Don't worry. We'll find her.”

 

But they didn't find her the next day, or the next, or any of the days during that week or the next one. And with each passing day, Justin could feel an erosion of his resolve to keep things strictly business between Angela and
himself. The days were tension filled and exhausting. But it was the nights that were the hardest. Because at night when he lay awake in bed, tired but too on edge to sleep, he thought of Angela upstairs, remembered that magical night of lovemaking they'd had before everything had gone to hell.

Justin splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't keep this up much longer, he admitted as he dried his face with a towel and began to dress. He'd almost said to hell with it all several times the previous day and pulled Angela into his arms. He needed some space, a chance to get his head on straight, he reasoned as he tucked in his shirt, zipped his slacks and buckled his belt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he grabbed his socks and boots and began pulling them on.

Besides, he needed to handle some things in his office without being distracted by Angela's presence and his feelings for her. He exited the room and headed for the kitchen and was surprised to find Angela already there. “You're up early,” he commented, and tried not to notice how beautiful she was standing there barefoot in an ugly blue T-shirt that hit her midthigh.

“Actually, my stomach was bothering me. I came down to get some crackers to see if that would help.”

“You weren't feeling so hot yesterday, either,” he commented. He went to her and cupped her face in his hands. It was then that he noted the smudges under her eyes and that her skin was paler than normal. He placed a hand to her forehead. “You don't feel like you have a fever.”

“I don't. I just have an upset stomach,” she informed him, and nibbled on the cracker she was holding. “It's probably something I ate. Let me finish this and I'll go shower. I should be ready to go in fifteen minutes.”

Concern for her warred with his responsibilities as sheriff. For a moment he considered changing his plans. Then he decided he couldn't. Too much was going on right now. Two of his sources had indicated that something strange was going on at Mercado Brothers Paving and Contracting. He needed to check it out without dragging Angela into it or risking her tipping off Ricky, even inadvertently. “Why don't you take the morning off? You said you were feeling tired yesterday, and it doesn't look like you're feeling any more energetic today.”

“I'm okay.”

“But why push it? The truth is, I'm not going to be able to hit that list of ranches with you until later, anyway. I've got some things I need to handle in the office. Bobby's on his way here now. When you're ready and feeling better, he'll bring you down to the office.”

“Justin, I refused to let Ricky stick me with his bodyguard. What makes you think I'll allow you to stick one of yours on me?”

“Don't be stupid, Angela. Someone tried to kill you.”

“Trust me, I'm aware of that fact. But I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. Go to work, Justin. And don't worry about me.”

“I am worried, dammit. And I'm not leaving you alone here. I don't want you unprotected,” he argued.

“But it's not what you want that counts. It's what I want. And I don't want a bodyguard or a baby-sitter. I'm not your concern anymore. I haven't been for a long time.”

“Angela—”

“Go to your office, Justin. And don't worry about me.”

But he did worry, Justin admitted as he drove to his office. He worried about her all morning, through the noon hour when he'd been positive someone had been listening
on a phone extension while he'd been speaking with Dylan Bridges. He worried again at four o'clock that afternoon when he tried calling Angela at her condo and got her answering machine. And he was still worrying about her when he entered the restaurant at the Lone Star Country Club to meet with Luke Callaghan and saw her sitting at a table with Ricky.

“D
on't look now, but your ex just walked in, and he's heading this way.”

Let him come, Angela thought. If he was angry, tough. So was she. When he stopped at the table where she was sitting, Angela glanced up at him and met his icy glare. “Hello, Justin.”

“I tried to reach you at the condo to tell you I got tied up, but you didn't answer.”

“That's because I wasn't there.” She turned to Ricky, not wanting him to catch the brunt of this, and said, “Ricky, would you excuse us for a moment?”

“I'm going to go get a beer. Want one?” Ricky asked as he slid back his chair.

The thought of beer made her stomach pitch. “No. I'm fine.”

“You didn't have to get rid of him on my account,” Justin told her.

“I didn't do it for you,” she countered. “I did it for him. This is between you and me, not Ricky. I don't want him caught in the cross fire.”

Justin frowned at her and sat in the chair Ricky had vacated. “You want to tell me what you're talking about, because judging from the steam coming out of your ears you're ticked off at me.”

“You've got that right. I am ticked off. And I'm sure you've got a pretty good idea why.”

“I don't have a clue.” He nearly spit out the words. “All I know is that I've been trying to reach you all day and when I couldn't, I sent Hank out to your place to check on you.”

“You sent your deputy to check up on me?” she said, doing her best not to raise her voice.

“What did you expect me to do? You've been tired and complaining about your stomach the past couple of days, so I got worried.” He took off his hat, set it on the tabletop and jammed a fist through his hair. “I thought maybe you were really sick or that something had happened to you when I couldn't get you at the condo or on your cell phone.”

Angela hesitated. Her anger slipped a notch because she had forgotten to recharge her cell phone the previous night. As a result, it had been dead when she left the condo—a fact she hadn't discovered until she'd tried to use it. “So what's your excuse for having Bobby tail me today?”

Justin's frown deepened. “I didn't have Bobby tail you. He was out on patrol most of the morning, and I had him watching Del Brio this afternoon.”

“Then what was he doing at two of the places I was checking out today?”

“I don't know, but you can bet I intend to find out,” Justin told her, and from his thunderous expression, Angela couldn't help feel a little sad for Bobby Hunter.

“You really didn't have Bobby following me?”

“No. But if I'd known you'd planned to go off on your own again I might have.”

Before she could respond, Ricky returned to the table with a dish of hot, golden, deep-fried onion rings. “I know how much you like these things, so I got us a batch,” he said, and placed the dish in the center of the table. “You planning to join us for dinner, Wainwright?”

Justin slid his chair back and stood. He picked up his hat. “No, thanks. Unlike Angela, I'm a little more particular about whom I break bread with.”

“Let it go, Ricky,” Angela said, grabbing his arm for fear he would follow Justin and call him on the put-down. “Please.”

“For you,” he said, but the light of battle still gleamed like steel in his dark eyes. He shoved the plate of onion rings toward her. “How come you're not diving into these things yet?”

Angela's stomach swayed at the scent. “Thanks, but I'm really not very hungry. You go ahead,” she managed to say, and grabbed the soda she'd been nursing earlier.

“That's a first. Since when have you ever needed to be hungry to eat onion rings?” Ricky teased, and popped one of the tasty treats into his mouth.

Ricky was right. What in the devil was wrong with her? She usually had enough energy to fuel a power plant, but she'd been lethargic and her stomach had been giving her fits for days now. As soon as she got back to San Antonio, she was going in for a full physical, she promised herself.

“Hey, Ricky, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you,” a burly guy with a cigar clamped in his jaw said upon entering the club and spying them. As he hurried over to their table, Angela remembered Ricky identifying him as Sal the night of the hospital dedication. He removed the cigar from his mouth and said, “Excuse me, ma'am, but I need to talk to Ricky for a minute. It's important.”

“It's all right,” Ricky said when she started to get up. “Angela's cool, Sal.”

He hesitated a moment, then said, “Frank's looking for you, kid. He wants to see you right away.”

“As you can see, Angela and I are about to have dinner. I'll give Frank a call later,” Ricky said, his voice gruff.

“He wants to see you now.”

“I'm busy now,” Ricky countered. “Tell Frank I'll be by when I finish here.”

Sal looked around and clamped a hand down on Ricky's shoulder. He leaned down and said in a loud whisper, “Don't be stupid, kid. Frank's in a real strange mood. You don't want to mess with him when he's like this.”

Ricky shook off the older man's hand. “I'm not afraid of Del Brio.”

“I know you're not. But think about your daddy, boy. You set Frank off, and you might not be the one who ends up paying for it,” Sal told him. “Come on, kid. The lady will understand.”

“Go ahead, Ricky,” Angela interjected. “The truth is I'm not feeling all that well, anyway.”

“All right,” Ricky said, and Angela could see that it cost him to agree. “I'll give you a call later.”

“Thanks, ma'am,” Sal said, nodding his head. When he lifted the cigar to put it back in his mouth, the scent hit Angela.

“Excuse me,” she said, and left the two men staring after her as she raced to the rest room, where she lost what little she had managed to keep in her stomach that day. When the worst of it was over, she exited the stall and went to the basin and rinsed out her mouth.

“Are you all right?”

Angela looked up from the sink and stared at the reflection of the curvy, blond waitress in the club's signature black pants and white shirt. “I think so,” Angela said.

“Why don't you sit down a minute,” she said, and led her to the bench against the wall. She wet a towel and
brought it over to Angela. “You're still looking a little green.”

“Probably because I feel a little green,” Angela said, taking the cloth and using it to wipe her face. “Thanks.” When she could breathe a little easier she said, “You seem familiar, but I'm afraid I don't remember your name.”

“We haven't met before,” she said a bit nervously. She smoothed her shirt where her name was stitched across the front of it. “I'm Daisy. Daisy Parker. I work here at the club.”

“I'm Angela Mason. Thanks again, Daisy,” she said, and attempted a smile. “Would you believe I never get sick? Not so much as a cold. And I usually have a cast-iron stomach. Although you'd never know it by the way I've been upchucking these past few days. Sometimes even just the smell of certain food has been setting it off. And just now when I smelled that cigar, well, I wasn't sure I'd make it to the bathroom in time.”

Daisy gave her a thoughtful look. “You said you've been tired a lot lately, too?”

Angela's smile slipped. “Yes. Why?”

“Is it possible you're pregnant?”

“No, that's not possible. I can't…” Angela went still. “At least I don't think so,” she corrected, but suddenly wondered if it could be true. Could she be pregnant?

“You might want to check with your doctor because when I—” Daisy paused, her expression grew sad and a haunted look came into her brown eyes. “When a friend of mine was pregnant, she was sleepy all the time and everything from cigar smoke to lemon oil made her queasy.”

The door to the ladies' room burst open and in walked a petite, bubbly redhead. “Daisy, you're needed out front,” she said as she eyed the two of them curiously.

“I'll be there in a minute,” Daisy told the other woman. The redhead waited several beats, then flounced out. When they were alone again, she said, “I need to get back to my tables, but before I do, I just wanted to tell you that I heard about you coming to Mission Creek to try to find that little girl who was kidnapped. And I wanted you to know that I think it's a good thing you're doing, Ms. Mason. A real good thing. And I hope…I hope you can find her.” She grabbed Angela's hand and squeezed it a moment, then stood. “I better go. Try chewing on ice and see if it helps your stomach.”

Angela stared at the hand the woman had touched, squeezed it into a fist and tried to make sense of the swirl of grief and fear she picked up on from Daisy in their brief contact. But she felt confused and was unable to make sense of the source of Daisy's pain. Then her own situation hit her again. Recalling that night she and Justin had made love, she counted back and tried to determine where she'd been in her menstrual cycle. Since she'd never been regular, she'd paid little attention and didn't have a clue whether she was late now.

Could it be possible? After all this time and so many disappointments, could she possibly be pregnant with Justin's child?

The doctors had said there was always the possibility that she could get pregnant. It just wasn't likely to happen without her taking fertility drugs or going through the various high-tech procedures.

And if she was pregnant?

Angela smiled. She spread her fingers over her abdomen. She wanted the baby. More than wanted the baby, she welcomed it.

And Justin? How would Justin feel?

Her smile dimmed. Justin had made it clear that he
didn't want her in his life. How would he respond to her being pregnant with his child? It was a bridge she would have to cross if and when she came to it, she decided. First, she had to get one of those over-the-counter pregnancy tests and see if it confirmed her suspicions.

 

“Have you had any luck finding out who the woman is?” Luke asked Justin as they sat in the restaurant where the sheriff had agreed to meet him and give him an update.

“Not yet, but I've got some leads that I'm following,” Justin told him.

Maybe the sheriff didn't know the identity of the mystery blonde he'd spent that night with, Luke thought. But Luke had a pretty good idea who she was. He thought about Daisy, the waitress at the club from whom he'd stolen a kiss the other night. The more he thought about her, the more Luke was convinced that Daisy was the mystery woman he'd met that night at the Saddlebag. Daisy was his daughter's mother.

His daughter.

Thoughts of the baby he'd fathered still rocked him. And his chest tightened each time he thought of missing this first year of her life, of learning that she'd been kidnapped. “What about the child? Have you been able to turn up anything about who might have her or where she's being held?” There was a long pause, which Luke found disturbing. “Justin?”

“Like I explained to you on the phone, Angela came up with a sketch of the place where she thinks Lena's being held.”

“You believe she's right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Justin told him. “Don't ask me to explain how she knows, because I can't. Hell, I find it hard to
believe myself. But I think Angela's right about this. If we can find this place, we'll find your daughter.”

Luke leaned forward and wished he could see the other man's face. “So why haven't you found her?”

“Because there are hundreds of places that could fit the one in her sketch,” Justin said, and Luke could hear the exasperation in the other man's voice. “I wish like hell I had better news, Luke, but the truth is for over two weeks we've been searching every ranch in Lone Star County that even comes close to matching the one in Angela's sketch. But so far we've struck out. We're going to find her. You have my word on that. It's just taking us a while to do it.”

“And while you're searching for my daughter, I'm sitting here doing nothing,” Luke said with disgust.

“Come on, you're being a little rough on yourself, don't you think?”

“Hardly,” Luke countered, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “How would you feel if some sick bastard kidnapped your daughter and you were doing nothing to get her back?”

“You're hardly doing nothing. You have me and Angela searching for her plus the FBI. We're trained for this kind of work. You're not. Even if you had your sight, you'd probably just get in the way.”

But Justin's assurances did nothing to ease his guilt. The sheriff didn't know, couldn't know that he, too, had been trained to rescue. “You think so?”

“Yes. This sort of thing is best left to the law, Luke. Not businessmen. Even one as successful as you.”

He'd done his job of acting the millionaire playboy well, Luke thought. “Funny you should mention that. You know all those business trips I was always taking?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, they were business trips technically. But not the kind you and everyone thought they were.”

“You sure you want to be telling me this? Don't forget I'm a lawman,” Justin warned him.

Luke grinned wryly and imagined Justin was worried he was about to reveal some illegal activities he'd been involved in. “Yeah, I want to tell you, and your being a lawman doesn't matter. Those trips I took weren't for Callaghan Industries. They were special missions I handled for the United States government.”

“You saying you're some kind of spy?”

“A secret agent, actually,” Luke replied, and could almost imagine his friend's expression. “The last mission was in Central America. I won't bore you with the details, but it wasn't pretty. We were successful, but I ended up like this,” he said, and tapped the side of the dark glasses he wore to shield his sightless eyes.