As if that wasn’t enough, Sabrina had barely made it into third grade when a picture of the admiral with his female aide-de-camp had graced the London Times. Sean’s father hadn’t even bothered to deny the affair; the damage had been done. His mother had retaliated by announcing that she’d been discreet by comparison. The sparks flew. Sean had tucked Sabrina under his arm and faded into the background while their parents duked it out.
The divorce dragged on for two years. When those affairs ended, new partners quickly filled the empty spaces in their parents’ lives, but commitment was never part of the scenario. And the children were never more than an afterthought.
With that stellar example to learn from, Sean planned to do better. He’d found his most enduring relationship to be with the Bureau. But women were another matter altogether. Other than his relationship with his sister, whom he still called once a week at college, his longest relationship with a woman had been eight months, two weeks and a day.
It had taken him that long to notice Elise’s roving eye.
Elise had initially been turned on by the badge and the gun. She’d gotten a thrill from dating a real-life hero. But after the fun had worn off—about the time Sean was thinking about getting serious—he’d found her recent correspondence with her old college sweetheart. When he’d seen Elise and Frat Boy meet for dinner and had caught them kissing, Sean had known it was over with her.
Thank God he’d had the Bureau to return to the next morning. For eight years now, the job had never let him down.
Letting his shoulders expand and settle with a weary sigh, Sean picked up the goofy card that had come in the mail from his sister at Stanford University, and smiled. Sabrina might be the one woman he could count on in this world. Count on without question. Even if she did have the balls to razz him about his single status.
He had nothing against women, nothing against marriage.
He just wasn’t going to put his faith in either one of them.
“Something you want to share?” Thomas’s pointed question brought Sean back to the glassed-in confines of their tiny office.
“Nah. It’s just a note from Bree.” Sean smiled again, easily picturing Sabrina’s long wavy curls and mischievous grin. “Checking on me before she leaves the country for her next graduate studies project.”
Thomas adjusted his glasses. “You’re okay with that?”
Sean shrugged. He’d had a lot of years to get used to taking care of his little sister. He hadn’t had enough to get used to her being all grown up and gallivanting around the world to dig up buried treasures in pursuit of her Ph.D. in archaeology.
Another image, of a little girl with equally long hair—black instead of blond—filled his mind and pushed aside his sentimental thoughts. A simmering frustration tensed his muscles and pulled his mouth into a taut line. He tucked Sabrina’s card into his top drawer and looked across the desks to Thomas. “One thing I know I’m not okay with is Alicia Reyes’s kidnapper walking away because of a legal technicality.”
Sean swiped a hand over his jaw and scratched at his scraggly beard. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning. He and Thomas had been too busy piecing together the facts of the young girl’s kidnapping. Alicia was home safe now, but her kidnapper would never stand trial if they couldn’t come up with more than circumstantial evidence to warrant an arraignment.
“We were that close to nailing Marquez. So what if we entered that house without a warrant?” Sean thumped his finger on the desk. “We had the warrant in our hands before we opened the closet and found the ropes with the hair samples.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Maddox.” Thomas stood and straightened his tie. By this time of the afternoon, Sean had no idea where he’d discarded his. “But without Rossini to give us the go-ahead on using that rope, Marquez is just a creepy guy who lives in the neighborhood.”
Thomas adjusted the holster he wore strapped around his shoulder, and picked up his suit coat from the rack beside their office door. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He tossed it to Sean. “Here. Do you even know it’s May 29?”
With easy reflexes, Sean caught the package. Closer inspection showed it to be a present.
“Happy birthday,” Thomas added.
Sabrina’s card had come early, before she took off for parts unknown. Since then, Sean had lost track of the days. Thomas, of course, never missed such details. “You shouldn’t have.” Sean dredged up a sly grin and ripped into the ribbon and paper. “What’s this supposed to be?” Thomas had given him a tiny, black, leather-bound book. He thumbed through the pages. Inside he found an assortment of names and phone numbers. “Noelle. Kris. Cassie. Sue. Sherry. Mary Ann.”
“Since Elise left, you don’t seem to have a little black book of your own, nor would you take the time to use one. So I thought I’d share some friends of mine.” Thomas walked over and tapped the book. “I put the names of six very nice ladies in there. They’re smart, they’re sexy, they’re available. And they’re willing to meet you, which is no small accomplishment on my part, I might add. Why don’t you call one of them and go celebrate your birthday tonight?” Thomas shoved aside a stack of files and sat on the corner of Sean’s desk. “What are you now? Thirty?”
“Thirty-two.”
“That’s almost over the hill, buddy. You’re good at your job, Sean. No one would ever argue that. But this stack of paperwork and that badge aren’t going to keep you warm at night.” Thomas shrugged, indicating the logic of his argument was irrefutable. “It’s not as if women don’t like you. You’re not bad-looking, you work out, you have that James Bond accent you inherited from your dad going for you.”
Sean leaned back in his chair and listened. As much as he might not want to hear it, he trusted Thomas’s opinion. No one could have predicted the two men would become such good friends. First of all, they were polar opposites in looks and personality. Thomas was tall and lanky. With his bookish demeanor and dark hair, he’d always reminded Sean of Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. Sean wasn’t quite as tall, and he was more likely to be cast as Schwarzenegger’s stand-in in some action flick. His blond hair always seemed to be out of place, while Thomas was neat as a pin. Thomas was a thinker. Sean trusted his gut.
But they understood each other. Inside. Where it counted. A woman could never do that.
“I notice you’re not wearing a ring either, buddy,” Sean stated. “You’re thirty-two also.”
Thomas rose and headed for the door. “True. But I’ve got plans tonight. I can get the job done and keep the ladies happy.” He turned in the open doorway. “There’s not another thing we can do on the Marquez case except hope that legal gets a postponement until we can get a ruling from another judge on that rope.”
Sean refused to give up hope. Alicia Reyes had never given up hope while she’d been held hostage. He reached for the nearest file and opened it. “There’s got to be another angle we can work here.”
Thomas shook his head. “Go home. Get laid. Get some sleep, if that’s how you want to celebrate. But do something for yourself. The case will still be here in the morning.”
Reluctantly, Sean agreed to the logic of Thomas’s argument.
