assignment SFI was running.
Garrow mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. “This is our last chance. After this weekend the budget for this case is gone and I have to move on to a more likely candidate, but I want to get Peter Monroe.”
“Why is he so important to you?” Laura asked.
Garrow looked at her, and for a second Clint thought he was going to tell the truth. But then Garrow said, “Because he’s breaking the law.”
Laura tilted her head to the left and studied the skinny man; clearly she, too, knew there was more to the story. “I don’t understand why Clint and I need to pose as a couple to attend the wedding.”
Sam Clark smiled with genuine pleasure as he studied the two of them. Clint didn’t like the man’s assessment. “Because you two, as a couple, fit Peter Monroe’s fantasies. He’s a boy from Jersey who grew up dreaming about the wild west. And cowboys.”
“That explains him,” Laura nodded toward Clint, “but how do I—”
“I’m from Texas,” Clint interrupted. “That doesn’t necessarily make me a cowboy.”
“You could have fooled me,” Laura muttered and stared at his boots.
Captain Clark took another swig of his green health drink, grimaced and pointed at Clint. “I don’t care whether you can shoot a lasso or brand a haystack, you walk and talk like a cowboy and you’re going to do your best to convince Peter Monroe you’re the genuine article.”
Clint wondered if he should point out his many years of police experience and several commendations, but decided not to give Clark more reason to punish him.
Laura crossed one elegant leg over the other and Clint noticed the other two men watching her. “Fine, Peter Monroe wants to play cowboy. I don’t see—”
“If you’d let me finish a sentence you’d learn how you fit in. Damn, your last captain never said anything about you being such a chatterbox.” Captain Clark ran a tongue over his teeth and grimaced as he tasted the remnants of the health drink. “Peter Monroe has two driving fantasies. He comes from a working-class family. His father was a factory worker and his mother was a waitress who used to make extra money by hiring herself out as service help for large society parties. Peter went with her, helping in the kitchen. Clearly that’s when he became obsessed with high society. The longer a family’s been in America the more impressed he is.”
“But…” Laura started to interrupt again but quickly thought better of it.
“Yes?” The captain smiled at her predicament but Laura wisely decided not to ask how she fit into the scenario. At least the woman acknowledged the silver spoon she was born with.
Clint wondered what it would be like to be accepted because of one’s family name. He was placing extraordinary demands on himself because of how badly his own family was perceived. His father had run off with the life savings of too many people in Two Horse Junction for him to be comfortable accepting the sheriff’s job just because he was a good cop. He needed to show that he was a great cop.
Captain Clark smiled. “Unfortunately the Chicago P.D. isn’t overrun by socialites. Luckily you transferred in. In fact it’s good that the pair of you transferred in. I never dreamed I’d be happy to have a cowboy and an heiress working for me.”
“I’m not…an heiress. My mother—” Another look at Captain Clark’s face and Laura stopped. She didn’t bite her lip or fidget or anything. She just waited. Clint had to admit he liked how calm she was. It was the only thing he liked about Miss Nose-Stuck-Up-In-the-Air Laura Carter. When she’d transferred in from Boston he couldn’t help but admire her beauty. But her ice-maiden attitude didn’t appeal to him. He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to laugh out loud, who wasn’t afraid to step in a puddle in order to cross the road. He preferred having a warm loving body in his bed, not a prickly cactus. She had about as much personality as a cactus, too.
It hadn’t taken long for the rumors about her to spread. Clint didn’t believe every story he heard, but there were so many of them about Laura Carter—and her relationship with her last boss—that he had wondered. She had been transferred out of Boston to Chicago very quickly—and under a cloud of secrecy. He knew how much paperwork was involved in switching from one city to another. It had taken him over a year to get himself approved for the move from Dallas to Chicago and that was only after he’d received a hero’s thank-you for rescuing a kidnapped baby.
Clearly Little Miss Society had been sent to Chicago because of her misdeeds. He had seen her having dinner with the police superintendent just last week, probably thanking him for her job. Having dinner with the highest-ranked police officer in Chicago certainly didn’t hurt her career. None of the other officers in their department had ever had such an honor, yet there she’d been, only a couple of months after joining the Chicago force.
He’d been having dinner with his own date, and unfortunately had become bored with her too quickly. He found that happening a lot recently. Probably because he missed home and was looking forward to finding himself a sweet Texas gal. A woman who appreciated a man like him.
The SFI agent took the center of the room. “The wedding of two of Chicago’s most established families will be playing into Peter Monroe’s psyche. It’s the perfect opportunity for Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, the personification of his ultimate fantasy, to become his new best friends.”
Laura frowned. “What you’re saying makes a certain kind of logic, but once Clint and I worm our way into Monroe’s circle then what? He’s not about to confess his well-thought out criminal activities to us.”
“The psychologists think he just might.” Garrow shrugged. “I admit, the plan is kind of crazy, but it’s our last chance. You can have all the paperwork on the profile, but our psychologist suggests that if Clint and Peter could become friends and then enter a one-upmanship contest—which Clint must win—Peter might show his own hand. At the very least he may be more careless than usual at the wedding when he meets with Vasili. This is the first time that we’ll be able to prove that these two men have even been in the same room together. I need you two to be there and take advantage of whatever the situation may offer.” Vincent ran a hand through his hair, “I realize this sounds desperate and—well it is. Basically you’re going to have to improvise—including how to get Peter Monroe to show his hand.”
Laura stood. “We’ll do it.”
When had she turned so sympathetic? Clint stood as well. “Well Captain, I’m honored to have the opportunity to work with an officer as fine as Ms. Carter. Plus, as my dear mother always says, the sooner we get started the sooner we’ll be finished.”
Laura glared at him.
“The most important thing is to convince Peter Monroe that you two are madly in love,” the captain said.
“I’ve usually found the fillies do fall madly in love with me,” Clint said in his very best Texas drawl.
Laura harrumphed. Clint slid an arm around her, hugging her to him. “Now, honey, was that any way to show enthusiasm for this project?”
She stiffened against him. He felt her take a deep breath and he counted to five before she disengaged herself and moved away from him slightly. It figured Laura didn’t have to count to ten like a regular person; she regained her composure in five. “Cowboy, there’s nothing I would like better than
