Against All Odds Read online

  “We’ll do our best to disrupt your life as little as possible,” Coop promised, gentling his voice. “And we’re sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Several seconds ticked by. The elegant curve of her throat quivered as she swallowed, and when she looked up, her features had softened.

  “Actually, I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit hostile. I’m not happy my father’s problems have cascaded down to me, but that’s not your fault. You’re simply trying to do your job. That said, I can’t disappear without disrupting a lot of people’s lives. All I can do is lay low as much as possible and try to minimize your hassles. Can you live with that?”

  It wasn’t ideal, but at this point Coop was willing to take whatever cooperation they could get. A quick glance at Mark confirmed that his partner felt the same way.

  “It’s a start. Why don’t we talk about your schedule for the next few days? That way we can assess risk and make some recommendations.”

  “Let me get my calendar.” She rose, grabbed another handful of M&Ms, and headed down the hall.

  Once she disappeared, Mark leaned toward Coop and spoke in a low tone. “At least she didn’t throw us out.”

  “True. But it’s not going to be easy. We’ll still need local backup.”

  “Is Les taking care of it?”

  “Yes. He’s not happy about it, though. And the field office isn’t going to be, either.”

  “Tough. Unless she’s willing to move out of this house, we can’t handle security on our own.”

  “Agreed. In the meantime, we need to keep pushing for the safe house.”

  “Why do I think the lady isn’t going to bend on that?”

  Frowning, Coop tapped one finger against the arm of his chair. “It might help if we knew what the problem is between her and her father.”

  “Maybe.” Mark cocked his head. “Why don’t you try turning on that charm again? It seemed to be very persuasive with the tray in the hall.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m more than half serious. And my keen observation skills tell me it wouldn’t require much acting on your part to feign some interest.”

  The hot flush surged again on Coop’s neck. “You’re the one who called her a babe in the car.”

  “True. But our reactions in person were different. I noticed her assets. You salivated.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to respond to that.”

  “No response is necessary. The evidence speaks for itself.” He flashed a brief grin, and then his demeanor grew more serious. “But work on the safe house, okay?”

  An odd inflection in Mark’s voice put Coop on alert. “You sound worried.”

  “I am. You know how you said in the car you had bad feelings about this assignment? Well, they must be catching. In my opinion, the faster we can make Monica Callahan disappear, the better off everyone will be.”

  An ominous chill settled over Coop. In the three years he’d been paired with Mark on missions, he couldn’t remember a single occasion when both of them had been unnerved by a job. And he heartily concurred with Mark’s conclusion. They needed to get Ms. Callahan out of sight. Sooner rather than later.

  Only the lady wasn’t interested in disappearing.

  Maybe he’d have to resort to charm after all, Coop speculated. That wasn’t a strategy he often used in this job.

  But Mark was right in his assessment on that front too. Turning on the charm for Monica Callahan wouldn’t be any hardship.

  None at all.

  4

  She was going stir-crazy.

  Only nine hours into this . . . arrangement . . . and she was ready to climb the walls.

  Heaving a frustrated sigh, Monica rose from the desk in her home office and prowled around the small room, feeling like a caged animal. Or worse. At least animals in cages had a view of the world outside. In her cage, every shade, blind, and drape had been drawn, shutting out the weak February sun and casting a pall of gloom over her house—and her mood.

  She’d holed up most of the day in her office, telling the two men who’d taken over her home that she needed to work. And that was true. Unfortunately, she’d accomplished a big fat zero. Although she’d tried her best to brainstorm themes for her next book, the surreal events of the day had rendered concentration impossible. Instead, she’d cleaned out files, sharpened pencils, rearranged the closet . . . anything to keep from thinking about her present situation.

  Stopping at the window, she cracked the mini blinds just enough to peer out. Everything looked normal. The low-wattage dusk-to-dawn lantern attached to the back of her house faintly illuminated her small brick patio, revealing the neatly arranged wrought aluminum table and chairs, now under prudent cover for the winter.

  Beyond the edge of the patio, darkness had claimed her yard. Once she’d considered nighttime to be a quiet, serene interlude. That had changed the instant the FBI appeared on her doorstep. Tonight the darkness took on ominous tones, shrouding her yard in an inky, menacing cloak.

  Thanks to her father.

  A shiver ran through her, and Monica dropped into the overstuffed easy chair beside her desk. Old and decrepit, its blue damask faded and worn, the piece was long overdue for the junk heap. But she’d salvaged it from her mother’s apartment after Elaine Callahan died far too young of cancer. It was one of the few pieces she hadn’t donated to charity or discarded.

  Monica closed her eyes and rested her head against the familiar, lumpy back. Here, in the spot that always reminded her of the comfort and security of her mother’s arms, she found a small measure of peace. In the succession of exotic locations she’d called home as a child, this chair had been the one constant, the refuge to which she retreated at the end of the day, climbing onto her mother’s lap to listen to bedtime stories and words of wisdom.

  “Forgiveness is hard, honey. But it’s what God calls us to. Besides, as some wise person once said, holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. It hurts you a lot more than it hurts them.”

  Jolted, Monica opened her eyes and stared at the pool of light on the ceiling, cast by the lamp beside her. Her mother’s voice echoed across the years, as clearly as if she was sitting in the room, reminding her of a painful, long-ago incident.

  She’d been nine years old. With her father’s nomadic lifestyle, it had been hard for Monica to break into the cliques at the succession of American schools she’d attended. But then she’d met Kathleen, also an only child, also the new kid in town. They’d bonded instantly, and Monica had been certain their friendship would last forever.

  When Kathleen had dumped her a month later after being recruited by the hottest clique in the school, Monica had been devastated. Hurt had turned to hate, and she’d let anger consume her . . . until her mother had pulled her onto her lap in this chair one night for a heart-to-heart.

  “But what she did was wrong,” Monica had protested after her mother counseled forgiveness.

  “Of course it was wrong. Otherwise you wouldn’t have to forgive her.”

  “But why do I have to do that? She hasn’t even said she’s sorry.”

  “You don’t have to wait for someone to apologize to forgive them. Maybe she’s embarrassed. Or doesn’t know how to bring it up. Some people have difficulty finding the words to say ‘I’m sorry.’ But you can still forgive her. And if you tell her that, it might help the two of you patch things up.”

  For a couple of days, Monica had pondered her mother’s words. In the end, she’d taken her mother’s advice, clinging to the hope Kathleen would, indeed, be moved by the generosity of her former friend.

  But the magnanimous gesture had backfired. Kathleen had laughed at her. Laughed! And ridiculed her in front of her friends.

  It was one of the few times Monica had been sorry she’d taken her mother’s advice. And she’d struggled with forgiveness ever since.

  Especially in relation to her father.

  A di
screet tap sounded on her door. Startled, she lifted her head from the back of the chair and checked her watch. Six o’clock. She’d been hiding in her office for eight hours, subsisting on the M&Ms she’d confiscated from the living room. No wonder the FBI was checking up on her.

  Rising, Monica moved to the door and pulled it open. The guy named Coop was standing on the other side. A slight five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, highlighting the cleft in his chin. He’d also ditched his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to reveal muscular forearms peppered with dark hair. She couldn’t help noticing his ringless left hand.

  “We were getting ready to order some pizza and wondered if you’d like to join us. We figured you must be getting hungry by now.” He flashed her a grin, but she didn’t miss his quick sweep of the room behind her. Nor fail to notice that his gaze came to rest on the half empty bowl of M&Ms. “Or maybe not.”

  Her face grew warm. “Comfort food. They’re a great stress reliever. I’m usually able to limit myself to three or four, but”—she inspected the bowl—“I guess I got carried away today.”

  He gave her a quick, discreet scan. “That obviously doesn’t happen too often.” Without waiting for her to reply, he turned up the wattage on his grin. “How about switching to pizza for dinner?”

  “Now that’s a notch up on the nutritional scale.” The ghost of a smile played at her lips as she found herself responding to his grin. The man was charming, no question about it. Charming enough to coax her to dinner, if not to a safe house, though he’d given that his best shot this morning as they were going over her schedule.

  “Hey, considering some of the food I’ve eaten on missions, pizza gets an A-plus on nutrition. It has everything . . . protein, starch, calcium, vegetables.”

  “Okay. You sold me. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “Any preferences?”

  “Just load it up. I like everything.”

  “A woman after my own heart.” The grin was back, and as he propped one shoulder on the door frame and leaned a hair closer, an odd hum zipped along her nerve endings. “Can I share a secret with you? I was afraid you might be one of those plain cheese pizza types. And I’m way too hungry for that.”

  She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “I’m glad I could do something to make this assignment more pleasant for you. I’m sure you’re not thrilled about giving up your weekend, either.”

  He shrugged. “Missions come first. And not always at the most convenient times. You learn to live with it.”

  Once more flashing that endearing grin—the one that tucked a deep dimple into his left cheek—he pushed away from the door and headed down the hall.

  As she watched him go, her heart gave a little flutter. One she had no trouble identifying as attraction. Interesting, she mused. It seemed that unless she was careful, the man who had come to protect her from physical danger could represent danger of an entirely different sort. Evan Cooper, with his broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and intense, deep brown eyes, was the kind of man who could turn a woman’s head—and steal her heart—without half trying. Even a mature, practical woman who wasn’t usually susceptible to the ephemeral quality of male charm.

  Like her.

  But forewarned was forearmed, she reminded herself. There was nothing abnormal about finding a handsome man appealing. Her response to his charm was no more than a physical reaction. Dangerous only if she let her emotions get carried away, if she forgot that it took a whole lot more than physical attraction to sustain a relationship.

  She wouldn’t let that happen.

  Besides, she had no interest in a man whose career came first. And Evan Cooper had already made it clear that his did.

  “She’ll be out in a few minutes. Let’s get two large with everything.”

  As Coop took his seat, Mark tapped in a number on his BlackBerry and placed their order. After he finished, Coop picked up one of the pieces of paper littering the kitchen table.

  “Okay, I want to be sure we’ve got everything covered. Church tomorrow was a nonnegotiable commitment. We’ll stick close, field agents will provide backup.”

  “Check.”

  “By tomorrow night, Les will have two more operators down here to take over the night security detail. Then we’ll go to twelve-on, twelve-off shifts.”

  “Check.”

  “On Monday morning, she’s got a presentation at the Jefferson Hotel for a national convention of insurance executives. We’ll have the field agents do a sweep before we arrive and instruct them to stick close during the presentation. We can run down there tomorrow and look the place over once the other security detail arrives.”

  “What are we going to do about that book signing on Wednesday in Norfolk?”

  “I don’t like it. It’s too public.”

  “I’m not the one you need to convince.”

  “Since when did I become the negotiator on this gig?” Coop sent an irritated glance in Mark’s direction.

  “The lady likes you.”

  Coop snorted. “Yeah. Right. I’m one of the guys who turned her life upside down, remember?”

  “She seems to have recognized she was misplacing blame and has moved past that. She even apologized for giving us a less-than-hospitable reception.”

  “That doesn’t mean she likes us. Tolerate might be a better description.”

  “I didn’t say she likes us. I said she likes you.”

  With an impatient shake of his head, Coop dismissed his partner’s opinion. “You’re nuts.”

  “Nope. Observant. You’d have noticed it too, if you were looking at the situation objectively.”

  “Are you questioning my judgment?”

  “Only when it comes to the lady. I have every confidence in your professional abilities.”

  Coop narrowed his eyes. “I don’t mix business and pleasure. You know that.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “This isn’t it.”

  “Okay. Fine. Whatever.” Mark started to gather up the papers on the kitchen table. “But I stand by what I said about the lady’s feelings. And I still think you’re the best person to convince her to cancel the book signing.”

  Ignoring the comment, Coop pulled out his BlackBerry on the pretext of checking messages. “You want to notify the agents out front to intercept the pizza guy?”

  “Sure.”

  The smirk on Mark’s face told Coop his partner knew he was employing evasive maneuvers. That was the one disadvantage of being paired with someone for years. They got to know you too well. But he didn’t really care that Mark had picked up on his interest in Monica.

  He just hoped Monica hadn’t.

  When Mark pulled his BlackBerry off his belt a few minutes later and skimmed a message, Coop sent him a questioning look.

  “Pizza’s here. One of the agents is bringing it up. Looks like you’ll finally get to meet Nick.”

  “Your buddy from the academy?”

  “Yep. I was hoping he’d be spared this assignment. Trust me, I’ll never hear the end of this. As he’s sure to remind me, we didn’t go through new-agent training together so he could do my grunt work.”

  The doorbell rang, and they rose.

  “I’ll cover the door from the hall.” Coop pulled out his Glock.

  With a nod, Mark drew his own gun and moved toward the foyer. Peering through the peephole in the door, he opened it just enough to admit a tall, sandy-haired man with startling blue eyes and a lean, athletic build, who was juggling two pizza boxes and a six-pack of soda.

  “Your order, sir.” He grinned as Mark holstered his gun.

  “Very funny.”

  “Hey, I always wanted to do undercover work. First I get to spend my Saturday night playing the invisible man, and now I get to try being a pizza delivery boy. My life is complete.”

  “You forgot stand-up comic.” Coop stepped into the foyer, grinning.

  “Try being
the operative word on that one,” Mark added wryly. “Hand over the pizzas.”

  “What, no tip?” Nick feigned insult.

  “Sure. How about this? Don’t push your luck.”

  “Cute.” He dumped the pizzas and soda into Mark’s arms.

  “Since Mark doesn’t seem inclined to introduce us, I’m Evan Cooper.” Coop moved forward and extended his hand. “You must be Nick Bradley.”

  “That’s right.” Nick took his hand in a firm grip.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I’ll just bet. So you got stuck with this guy as a partner, huh?” He planted his fists on his hips and aimed a look in Mark’s direction.

  “Yeah. But he’s not that bad, once you get used to his idiosyncrasies.”

  “Does he still like to—”

  “So how’s life in Richmond?” Mark cut him off.

  “Touchy, aren’t we?” Nick grinned but took the hint. “Life in Richmond has been good. Up until today, when this little assignment forced me to cancel out on one great chick. Sounds like you guys have a hot potato on your hands with this job.”

  “That’s a good description for it.” Coop took their dinner out of Mark’s hands. “We appreciate your support.”

  “Goes with the territory. We’ll be close if you need us.”

  “Any action out there?” Mark asked.

  “Other than a couple of teenagers necking in a car down the street, all is quiet. Enjoy the pizza.” With a grin and a wave, Nick slipped out.

  “Nice guy.” Coop handed the six-pack to Mark as they headed for the kitchen.

  “Yeah. We had some good times at the academy.”

  “Has he been in Richmond long?”

  “About three years. He’s due for a transfer soon.”

  A movement in the doorway caught their attention.

  “I thought I smelled pizza.” Monica gave them a tentative smile.

  She’d touched up her lipstick and run a brush through her shiny russet hair, Coop noted, and her color was a bit higher than it had been earlier.