Nerves on edge, jumpy, imagining looks from colleagues. And here she was cornered in her bathroom by a thug claiming to work for… Who was he claiming to work for?
“It will complicate my weekend if you die in my hallway.” She tried to be detached and uncaring, but this unusual suspect was fading fast. Or was he?
His eyes closed and he coughed—one of those pathetic “ahem” things that didn’t convince her one way or the other of his weakening. She inched her way toward the door. Informant or not, she couldn’t just wait for him to die.
“I’m undercover DEA.” He looked up through pain-filled eyes. She was sunk. “I need your help, O’Malley. Can I depend on you?”
Can I depend on you? The words echoed in her mind.
Two weeks ago, she would have answered yes in a heartbeat. She had answered yes—too many times to count. But now no one counted on her. How could they? No one really trusted her. She’d failed Michael, and Pike had died in her arms.
“Verify…two one four…five five five…nine six nine six,” he mumbled, fading. “Double-crossed. Don’t tell ’em…anything.”
RHODES OPENED ONE EYE at a time, wondering why he didn’t see swirling stars and birdies. Maybe the tom-toms in his head had scared them all off. Stifling a groan, he inched his way to a sitting position against the door. Every bit of him hurt from his earlier fight, but his side had stopped bleeding and had a bandage.
“Glad to see you’re coming around.” O’Malley stood in front of him—left hand pointing her department-issued pistol at his head and her right holding a cell phone.
Triumphant and gorgeous. She had to be at least five-nine or five-ten. Slender, with a body honed by the rowing machine in the corner of the living room.
“Who are you and how are you involved with Michael?”
“I already told you, O’Malley.”
“Wrong answer.” She pushed a button and held the phone to her ear. “Yes, sixteen forty-nine Mayflower Drive. Male, mid-twenties, he’s passed out and hit his head. I can’t stay on the line, but I’ll let them in.” She clicked the phone off and sported a very satisfied smile. “You have seven minutes. Tops.”
“I’d give us three before the guy sitting on your house busts inside.” Another reason he’d used the back entrance. A guy with “cop” written all over him was watching this house from a traditional dark sedan.
“Real answers or you go to the hospital with the cops.”
“You are the cops, O’Malley.”
“Six minutes and counting.” She leaned against the bare wall—barely out of his reach, curly hair neatly tucked behind her ear, gun firmly in her hand, sounding confident.
But she was vulnerable. He’d seen her throw up.
“I’m sure it’ll be less of a headache to let you become someone else’s problem. Not to mention the paperwork that I detest. So convince me.”
He needed to be back in control. He inched his way up the doorjamb, his strength steadily returning despite every muscle in his body aching. What was going through her mind? Did she fake the call? Nope, she looked too confident. “I was double-crossed tonight. Hand over the package Pike gave to you, and I’m out of here.”
“And the DEA won’t help you because…?”
“Can’t trust ’em.” Okay, raising one very cute eyebrow was her prompt for more information. And the little tug on her Lucky Care Bear T-shirt meant what?
“Why would you think you could trust me?”
Again, the one curious eyebrow thing. Nice. Don’t get distracted, Rhodes. He was running out of time.
“You saw the photograph. There’s only one reason I’d be sent here.” That hit a nerve. Her fist tightened around the gun handle. Yeah, she knew about the mysterious package. He could see the indecision playing across her lightly freckled face.
Focus.
“Five minutes,” she said in a flat voice, ignoring all the emotion he’d witnessed.
“I’m tracking a guy who might have murdered Pike.”
“I’m still listening.”
How much could he spill without jeopardizing his next moves? Enough to get them out of here before her shadow parked out front knocked on the door. Them? Yes, them. It was the only way he could be sure she told him the truth. And to guarantee no one would be coming after him.
“If the package isn’t here, I think we should leave.” Someone had her house staked out and Rhodes couldn’t tell if the guy in the car would be on her side. “Look. Tonight was supposed to be a simple meet. Get some information. Find out where to go next. I was set up. Trigger-happy cops at one end of the alley and a gun at my back pinning me in the middle. Most likely my handler from the DEA.”
“They obviously didn’t want you dead or they would have been a little bit more accurate.”
“I’m not too sure about that.” He pressed his hand to his side. The bleeding had definitely stopped. A flesh wound that still hurt like the devil.
“I can save you a lot of trouble. I didn’t set you up and have no information about your…package.”
She grinned at the double entendre. Cute.
“Aw, but you do.” Yeah, she did. O’Malley wasn’t a very good liar. Strange for someone in undercover work. “And you’re curious.”
“I’ll give you that one.”
“Shouldn’t we be leaving?” They’d be cutting it close by walking out the door now. “Call the number I gave you? Verify my ID.”
“Um…cop,” she said pointing to herself. “Called it and got the Dallas Celebration Deli while you were unconscious.”
“Then I have nothing. Let your curiosity or faith take over. I need your help. You’re the only one I can count on.”
There it was again. That indecision he’d seen earlier and something more. It would be close if they left right now. Thank God she had a rear-entry garage. “No more delays. They’ll be here any minute.”
“I’m not turning over whatever Pike left me because you have a map instructing you to come here.”
“Take me to the package.” He was back in control. He could see how much she wanted to participate. Her eagerness was written all over her face.
Don’t say anything else, Rhodes. You’ll just screw it up. It has to be her decision.
The whine of an ambulance grew in the distance. He needed to avoid the complication of the Dallas P.D. and deal with the one cop he’d been sent to find—O’Malley. One step and he had his back to her.
Nothing.
A
