Fear Familiar Bundle (126 page)

"I could have set you up," she observed.

"That's true. But if that was the case, you never would have shown up." He looked at her in the dim lighting of the car's dashboard. "Someone else would have, and I probably wouldn't be alive."

Sarah tightened her grip on the wheel. "What's going on here?"

"I don't know, Sarah, but I promise you one thing, I'm going to find out." He straightened his shoulders. "Would you mind taking me to my apartment? I want to pick up a few things." His hand traced his left side where his weapon should have been.

"No problem," Sarah said. What was she going to do, let him off at a street corner? "What about keys?"

"I have those." He pulled them from his pocket. "They took my gun and my identification."

Sarah didn't comment. When her father was sheriff, a lawman who lost his weapon lost face, if nothing else. She could see that Daniel was smarting over the situation, and there wasn't anything she could say that would make it any easier. She felt a growing knot of guilt. Daniel would never have been at the Bingington house if she hadn't called him about the pepper. She had some responsibility for what had befallen him.

"What about the pepper report?" she asked, hoping for a topic that would take his mind off his own troubles.

"Needless to say, I haven't gotten the report, but I will, as soon as I get home. I can call the lab and see what they turned up."

"Daniel, everything at the luncheon went perfectly." The impulse to twist a strand of hair was strong, but she kept both hands on the wheel. "Maybe there won't be anything in the pepper."

"Maybe there won't. But once we have the report, at least we'll know for certain."

"Those men who broke into the Bingingtons'…" She took the exit that he directed. "Well, there was something I didn't tell you." She didn't see what possible difference it could make, the conversation about her father, but after everything that had happened to Daniel, she felt she owed it to him to be completely honest.

Tension knotted his shoulders. Sarah had lied to him— and that lie could have cost him his life. "What exactly didn't you tell me?"

The harsh tone in his voice made her wish she'd never started this. "It's personal."

"How personal?"

"Gee, you won't give me a break, will you?" Her temper flared. She was trying to do the right thing, and he was acting like he had her in an interrogation room for bank robbery.

He heard the concern in her voice, and the pain. His head throbbed and his body felt as if he'd been beaten with a bat, but he forced himself to relax, just a little. He'd gotten off on the wrong foot with Sarah because of his impatience. Now she was trying to help. "I'm sorry. Tell me what you left out." That was as non-accusatory as he knew how to phrase it.

"They said something about my father." The sting of shame made Sarah stop. Even after all these years, she couldn't discuss what had happened to her father without reliving all of the horrible lies.

"Your father?" Daniel waited. Nothing was clear yet, but it had been Cal Covington's past that had interested Paul Gottard, his boss, in Sarah in the first place.

"I don't remember exactly what was said now." Sarah had to force herself to continue. She felt the tears welling in her eyes and knew them for what they were— a sign of deep-seated anger at what had happened to her family. But she couldn't allow herself to cry.

"Try to remember. Just do the best you can. This may be important."

Sarah took a ragged breath. "They said something about how my father had messed up the job where the gambling was concerned." She had to bite her bottom lip for a moment to halt the tears. "And then they said that it was ironic that I was involved in what my father had started."

"What could that mean?"

"I don't know." Sarah's grip on the wheel loosened slightly as she made another right-hand turn at Daniel's direction. "I will tell you, though, that my father was an honest man. He was never involved in anything illegal."

"That's not the way the FBI saw it."

Daniel's words were gentle, but it was more than Sarah could take, especially from him. She slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the road. "Get out!" She reached across him and opened the door. "Get out and get home the best way you can."

"Sarah, I was only trying— "

"You're like all the others. You decide a man is guilty and then you set out to prove it. The FBI ruined my father's life. And my mother's. And now you're trying to ruin mine. I must have been crazy to talk to you. How many times do I have to learn a hard lesson?" She pushed at his shoulder. "Get out of my car or I'll drive to the police station and file charges against you."

Daniel slowly unbuckled his seat belt. His own anger had been caught off guard and he had no defenses for the raw pain he heard in Sarah's voice and saw in her face. "I didn't mean— "

"Get out." She panted with anger and with the effort to control her tears.

He eased out of the seat. Traffic whizzed by them, but he knew he was actually within walking distance of his apartment. He was going to be fine, but it was Sarah he was concerned about. He'd not only struck a nerve, he'd trounced up and down on it.

"Sarah, please let me explain— "

"Tell it to your superiors. Put it in my file. Stick it— " She pressed hard on the gas, and the car screeched back into the flow of traffic, the passenger door closing under the force of the takeoff.

Standing on the side of the road, Daniel watched her taillights blend into the steady flow of traffic. He'd learned a couple of valuable lessons in the past twelve hours. First of all, he should have checked the parking lot before he bent over that trunk. Second, where Sarah's father was concerned, she harbored a lot of anger and pain. The question that danced in his mind was whether it was out of guilt or frustration.

The tuxedo was little protection from the chill wind, but Daniel set his body to the task of walking and his mind on what he was going to do next. He was in something of a jam, but it was his own doing. He had been poking into Governor Peebles's trunk without a warrant and without any probable cause. He'd merely been killing time and fishing. Now he'd been knocked unconscious, transported across a state line, and worst of all, his badge and gun had been taken. He could forget the headache and the uncomfortable ride— in fact, he was too humiliated to mention it— but the gun presented a problem. He had to report the theft, and he wasn't the kind of agent who lied to make things look better for himself. The whole sordid tale was going to have to come out, and Paul Gottard was going to have his head.

On top of the fact that he'd disappeared from his assigned post. That was another black mark. Daniel sighed as he deftly climbed the chain-link fence on the interstate and started to cut through a bad neighborhood. A car approached him, radio blaring the sounds of raucous music. Great. All he needed now was an encounter with a bunch of macho teenagers. But the car passed without stopping, and Daniel ducked into a narrow street where table lamps burned as families gathered around the television.

He'd grown up in a neighborhood where everyone ate dinner as soon as the news was over. His father had come home from work at the same time every evening, and his mother had put their meal on the table, bowls of vegetables, steaming hot. It had been a comfortable childhood, complete with neighborhood pals and bicycles and dogs. There had been plenty of games of cops and robbers, and Daniel had always been a cop. It seemed he'd never dreamed of anything else.

His pace increased as the thin jacket seemed to grow even thinner against the wind. Good thing Sarah hadn't put him out forty minutes earlier. Then he would have really been in a pickle.

In fifteen minutes he was in his own neighborhood. The streets were wider, more brightly lit, with nicer cars parked along the curbs. The old quadruplex that he rented was fronted with a screened porch and enormous sycamore trees. He loved the porch in the spring and fall, when he could sit and listen to the sounds of kids down the block playing. Lately, though, he'd had very little time to enjoy his home or anything else.

Trotting up the steps, he stopped with his hand on the screen door. He knew before he saw the tear in the screen that someone had been in his apartment. He knew it and knew that danger might still lurk in the darkness.

Backing off the porch, he eased around the apartment to the garage where he kept his car. All four tires were flat, the car resting on its hubs. He kept his anger tightly checked as he moved back to the front of the apartment.

Very quietly, he eased the screen open. He knew every creaky board on the porch and avoided them all as he moved silently to the front door. As he expected, the knob turned uselessly in his hand. Someone had popped the lock completely out of the door.

He eased his hand inside and hit the light switch. The sight that greeted him made him groan out loud. Every piece of furniture he owned was either gutted or broken. Whoever had been in his apartment had meant to destroy it, not simply search it.

As he stepped into the room, his foot scrunched on shards of glass, and he picked up the broken frame of his parents' wedding anniversary picture. The anger was delayed in coming, but the sight of the ruined picture brought it on hard.

Aware that he was weaponless, Daniel moved through the rest of the house, making sure that it was empty. The more destruction he saw, the angrier he became.

He was in the front bedroom when he saw the sweep of headlights in his driveway. Dropping to the floor, he crawled into the living room and waited for the footsteps on the porch. The two creaky boards both gave a low screech as he counted the steps coming toward his door.

Before the intruder could knock, Daniel launched himself at the door. He pulled it open, then barreled through it and caught the intruder in a bone-crushing grip. Together they collapsed on the hard boards.

"He-l-p!"

As he pushed the intruder to the porch floor, he realized that it was a she, and that she was slender. Even before he looked, he knew it was Sarah Covington. He eased his shoulder out of her diaphragm.

"Help! Get off me!" Sarah's voice was surprisingly strong.

As he clamped a hand over her mouth he also realized she had surprisingly strong teeth.

"Damn!" He shook his hand. "Sarah, shut up."

"Shut up, yourself!" She drew in a deep breath and tried to roll out from under him. "Get off me, you oaf."

He clamped down harder, putting his bitten hand on her shoulder and pinning her to the floor. "Will you listen to me?" His tone dared her to say no.

"Get off me or I'll— I'll boil you in a big pot until your flesh separates from your bones!"

Daniel felt the chuckle easing up his throat. It was the last thing he expected to feel, but he couldn't help it. Sarah's threat was so ridiculous. He laughed out loud, a soft but completely amused chuckle.

"Let me up," she warned him, not amused at all. "I came over here to apologize, and you tried to kill me. If you hadn't already lost your badge, I'd see that it was taken away from you."

He laughed harder, but he was smart enough not to relieve any of the pressure that held her down. Once he let her up, it was going to be more of a rodeo than he cared to think about. It was hang on or get gored.

"Daniel Dubonet, take your body off mine this instant." She wiggled beneath him, then stopped, suddenly aware of the hardness of his body pressed against her.

Daniel looked down into Sarah's big blue eyes. The streetlight gave him a good view of her features, and he could see that her anger had changed to something else. Her breasts were pressing into his chest, soft mounds that only served to accentuate the firmness of her torso and the long, lean length of her legs beneath his. In that moment he knew he had to let her up.

"Sarah?" He heard the huskiness in his voice and tried to clear his throat. Damn, but he was aware of her. Of every inch of her beneath him, and he realized he was no longer cold at all.

He gave up trying to explain and slid to the side, rolling onto his knees as he did so. Without waiting for her response, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to a sitting position.

"I thought you were trying to break in."

"Yeah, that's my second profession. I cook by day and burgle by night." Sarah hid her confusion behind bluster. She could still feel her heart racing from the feel of him above her, but she would rather die than have him realize her reaction to him.

"Someone trashed my apartment."

His simple statement shook her out of herself. "Daniel! How bad is it?"

"Wrecked. They destroyed everything." He rocked back on his heels and stood. With a fluid motion, he gave her his hand and pulled her to her feet. "When you came creeping across the porch, I thought it was whoever did it, coming back."

"I wasn't certain I remembered your address correctly. I was going to come up to the porch, peek around and see if anyone was home." She shook her head. "I was worried about leaving you on the interstate. That was a stupid thing to do. I went back to look for you, but you were gone."

Daniel signaled her into the house. At the doorway, Sarah stopped. The destruction was complete, as Daniel had said. Even his books had been torn apart, the pages ripped and thrown around the room. "Whoever did this deliberately meant to hurt you."

"That was my exact thought. All I have to do is figure out who did it— and why."

"What are you going to do?"

"Check my answering machine and then call in for a fingerprint team. At least this will give my story of being abducted a little substance."

"Can I help?" Stepping over the rubble, she followed him into what had once been a bright and cheerful kitchen.

Daniel gave her a long look that ended in a smile. "Dare I ask again for a ride to a hotel? I don't want to disturb any of the evidence here. There might be a set of prints or some clue that the forensic people can pick up. But I do have money now, and I can call a cab if you're going to put me out on the interstate again."

Sarah gave him an answering smile. "I promise to give you a ride to your chosen destination if you promise not to…to involve yourself in my past."