Her fingers slowly loosened their painful hold on the steering wheel. Her lungs filled again. Good. “That’s too bad. Maybe dinner tonight?”
“Maybe. It might be a really late night.” He paused for a moment. “Where are you? I hear background noise.”
“The television is on,” she said lightly. He couldn’t know she’d fixed the car and was on the move. That she’d found out what he’d done. “Nothing interesting.”
“Oh.” He was quiet for several beats. “Last night got a little intense. Are you sure you’re fine?”
She bit her lip and tasted blood. “I enjoyed last night and you know it.” When all else failed, stick with the truth. “Fun isn’t quite the right word to use, but it’s all I can think of.” The lying, cheating, car-sabotaging bastard. Maybe she and Liliana the mechanic should form a club or something. Women who chose men badly. “Don’t worry about me, Malcolm.”
“I’ll always worry about you, sweetheart.” His voice had that rich, dark tone that would’ve made her melt the day before. “We really do need a chance to talk.”
“Right.” She was so tempted to blurt out the truth, it hurt. But if he was undercover and investigating her, he’d have resources to find her. A lot of them. Oh, she’d call him when she was free, and she’d give him hell. But not now. Two could play at his little farce. Maybe she could even beat the big, bad, famous undercover cop at his own game. The righteous anger felt kind of comforting. “I would love to sit down and talk with you.”
“It’s a date.” His voice lightened. “Hopefully tomorrow.”
It did beg the question, though. If she was his case, or if her ties to the family were his case, where was he going? “Can you tell me anything about the case you’re on?” she asked.
“No,” he said flatly. “I’m on two cases right now, really. I can’t talk about either one, though. Maybe someday.”
Two cases. Did that mean two lovers? Was he working some other woman for information or whatever with that spectacular body of his? Anger roared through her, and it took a second to recognize the raw feeling of jealousy in there. Now, that was screwed up. Even though he couldn’t see her, she let her eyelids flutter. “You’re so brave, Malcolm.” God. She almost gagged.
“No, I’m not. Just getting the job done so I can get home to you,” he said quietly.
Good line. Definitely a good line. “It seems like you’re awfully good at your job.” Did bitterness creep in there? Damn it. “Just be careful. I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
“I know what I’m doing, Pippa. Don’t worry.”
Yeah. That’s what she was afraid of. He’d really convinced her he cared about her. The guy probably had a wife somewhere. Maybe kids. The idea hurt deep in her chest. A part of her, one she didn’t like at all, wanted to just confront him and get the truth. She wanted him to have feelings for her.
It was time to buck up. At the very least, he’d lied to her. He knew who she was and where she came from. Maybe she could mess with him a little. “It’s nice to have you in my life. I miss having a family.”
He didn’t answer for a minute. Thinking that over, was he? “I’m sure you do. You’ve never told me much except that your folks have passed on. Tell me more about you.”
That really wasn’t a good idea. “I’d rather learn about you. All you’ve mentioned is your grandpa. Are you sure you don’t have a wife and kids stashed somewhere?” Damn. Why had she said that?
He chuckled, hopefully taking it as a joke. “I think I would’ve remembered that fact. No. I’m all yours, Pippa.”
All of a sudden, she didn’t like him using her name. This name she’d created just for herself from a nickname her father had given her. The truest name she’d ever felt. The lying dickhead on the other end of the line didn’t get to use it. “My cookies are burning, Mal. I should go.”
“Me too. Work calls. I’ll, ah, catch up with you later.” His voice held a warmth she wanted to sink right in to—after she punched him in the face.
“I can’t wait. Good-bye.” She clicked off, finally reaching Trixie’s apartment. The woman hadn’t been answering all day, and even if she’d been at work, she would’ve gotten a message at some point.
Trixie lived on the ground floor of a weathered apartment building that had twelve units. Even though the place could use a can of paint, the grounds were lovingly tended with early spring flowers.
Pippa parked at the curb and looked around the quiet residential area. Trees swayed in the chilly wind, and the air hinted at oncoming rain. Nobody was around. Even so, she felt exposed being out in the world. Facing her fears sucked.
Her hair blew against her face and she pushed it back while walking up the sidewalk and turning at Trixie’s door.
It was slightly ajar.
Everything in Pippa stopped short. Heart, breath, thoughts.
Trixie would never leave her door open.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Malcolm barely made it to his fake apartment in time for April to pick him up in the same van she’d used the day before. He’d grabbed warm food and drink earlier just to keep himself going and felt a little better by the time she arrived. She was chipper again today, extolling the virtues of the family. She’d also handed him a lemonade the second he’d gotten into the van.
