Page 18 of The Agent

The suspicion on her brother’s face returned. “Sure, I guess.” Shoulders stiff, he turned for the door. “I’ll just take those measurements and meet you over at the house.”

After Sam left the kitchen, Marley gave Caleb an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I didn’t even think to ask you if you wanted to come along. I can tell them you can’t make it.”

He hesitated for a long time, but then to her surprise, asked, “Would you like me to go?”

She pondered the question. Would she? It might be awkward for him.

Since Patrick’s arrest and escape, the men in Marley’s life had become super-protective.

Sam, despite the fact that he was younger, now acted as if his only goal in life was to monitor and ensure her well-being, and their father wasn’t much better.

Each time she saw him, her dad quizzed her about every aspect of her life.

She wasn’t sure how he would react when he met Caleb. Neither he nor Sam had liked Patrick, which only made her feel like a bigger fool. What had they seen that she hadn’t?

But Caleb was different. He wasn’t as smooth and polished as Patrick.

Definitely not as talkative, either. And who knew, maybe her family would see something in him that she wasn’t picking up on.

She still didn’t fully trust her instincts.

It might not be a bad thing to gauge her family’s reaction to Caleb.

“I’d like it if you came,” she finally said.

He nodded. “All right then.”

She leaned up and planted a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

* * *

T HIRTY MINUTES AFTER they arrived at Marley’s childhood home, Caleb was regretting his decision to join her.

He should have stayed back at the Strathorn house.

But he hadn’t wanted to leave her side, especially with the chance that Grier was keeping tabs on her.

Away from the safety of her home, Marley made an easy target, and Caleb refused to let her out of his sight.

But he knew he was totally out of his element here.

He was a trained government agent. He’d arrested, interrogated and physically struggled with the slime of the world.

Yet he was intimidated by a twenty-four-year-old guy in surf shorts and a salt-and-pepper-haired father in the process of showing off a castle he’d built.

Out of Popsicle sticks.

“It’s…interesting,” Caleb remarked as he stared, stupefied, at the structure.

The castle was about two feet wide and three feet tall, made up of hundreds—no, had to be in the thousands—of little wooden sticks. Some were intact, creating walls and turrets. Others had been cut to accommodate little windows and doors. Oh, and a drawbridge. Who could overlook the drawbridge?

Next to him, Marley seemed to be fighting a grin. “Dad’s very passionate about his hobby.”

Sam Sr. lovingly picked up his creation from the crate it had been sitting on and set it on one of the long work tables in the garage. His brown eyes, the same shade as his daughter’s, were animated. “My best one yet, don’t you think, honey?”

“Definitely,” she agreed.

Marley’s dad linked his arm through hers and led her out of the garage. Caleb trailed after them as they stepped onto the driveway. He kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, determined to stay on guard during this visit.

His gaze focused on the intertwined arms of Marley and her father, and he was unable to stop the envy that rolled around in his chest. He could tell just by looking at them that they were close.

And the way Sam Sr.’s eyes filled with warmth each time he looked at his daughter was almost painful to watch.

Caleb had never had anything even close to that growing up.

He’d known families like this existed, but he hadn’t seen it up close before.

They walked around the side of the sprawling, Spanish-style bungalow and stepped into the spacious backyard.

The grass was perfectly mowed, colorful flowers popped up around the perimeter, and the array of birdhouses and feeders hanging from the trees made Caleb smile.

Evidently one of her father’s hobbies had rubbed off on Marley.

Sam was manning the barbecue, flipping burgers with a spatula. He glanced up at their approach and grinned at his sister. “It’s your turn to set the table, kiddo.”

Marley let go of her dad’s arm and took a step toward the patio door. “I’ll help you,” Caleb offered.

“No, sit down, relax,” she called over her shoulder.

As Marley darted into the house, Caleb awkwardly crossed the stone patio and sank into one of the chairs by the large table. Marley’s dad joined him. The older man settled into his chair, then fixed a frown in Caleb’s direction. “So. Marley mentioned you’re a writer?”

“Yes, sir.” He swallowed, wondering why the lie that had come so easily a week ago now stuck in his throat.

“My wife was a writer,” the older man revealed.

“Really? What did she write?”

“Articles, mainly. She freelanced for some of the top home and garden magazines in the country.” Marley’s father swept his arm in the direction of the garden. “This garden was her showpiece.”

“There was even a feature about it in Good Housekeeping, ” Marley chimed in, coming outside in time to hear her father’s remark. She set four plates on the table, along with drinking glasses, utensils and a tray of condiments, then flopped down in the chair next to Caleb’s.

“The garden is really pretty,” Caleb remarked. “Who maintains it?”

“I do,” Sam Sr. answered with a proud smile. “Before Jessie passed, I promised her I would do right by her babies.” He winked. “The kids and the flowers.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job,” Caleb said, and meant it.

“Food’s ready,” Sam boomed from across the patio. A moment later, he strode across the pink and gray stones and dropped a platter of burgers on the table.

Despite the fact that he’d eaten breakfast only two hours earlier, Caleb’s mouth watered at the aroma of ground beef and melted cheese. Marley’s brother joined them at the table, and the four of them didn’t say much as they fixed their burgers and settled back to eat.

Caleb’s eyes met Marley’s. He found himself fighting a grin when he noticed a splotch of ketchup at the corner of her mouth.

Her brother noticed, too, and guffawed. “We eat food here, not wear it.”

Shooting her brother a dirty look, Marley reached for a napkin and wiped demurely at her mouth. “Can it, Sammy.”

“Would you like me to get you a bib?” he returned with a smirk.

Caleb choked down a laugh. At the same time, he wanted to hightail it out of here. This was too damn surreal. The bickering siblings. The father looking on in gentle amusement. The homemade burger patties and bright-pink petunias and napkins with little dancing goats on them.

This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t anyone’s life, was it?

Lord, it was bad enough that he’d slept with Marley under false pretenses, but hanging out with her family?

A wave of discomfort crested in his stomach, especially when Marley offered a snarky comment to her brother, and Sam Sr. grinned at Caleb.

Crap. Marley’s dad was warming up to him.

Heck, so was her brother. After an initial bout of curt sentences and suspicious looks, the two men were now beginning to drop their guard.

As lunch progressed, Sam Sr. spoke to Caleb about the east coast, where he’d apparently lived for a few years following college.

And the younger Sam spoke at length about their construction business.

From the sound of it, the business wasn’t booming, but it paid the mortgage, and both Kincaid men obviously enjoyed the work.

They perked up when Caleb mentioned he’d worked construction in the past, and he found himself enjoying talking to them about it.

His fake writing career was a topic he avoided, but since construction was something he’d actually done before the DEA, he felt comfortable discussing it, and Marley’s family seemed to warm up to him even more.

By the time the food was gone and the table was cleared, Caleb’s chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise.

These people were… nice. They cared about each other.

They respected each other. It was so unlike most of the families he’d been around growing up.

The abusive foster fathers, the alcoholic mothers, the dilapidated houses, soiled sheets and empty refrigerators.

“You okay?” Marley murmured, flashing a tentative smile in his direction.

Next to her, Sam Sr. and his son were still talking about the renovation job they were currently working on.

Caleb lowered his voice. “I’m fine. I just spaced out for a second.” Fortunately, his cell began to vibrate in his pocket before she could press him. “Excuse me for a second,” he said, barely able to hide his relief as he pulled out the phone.

He left the table and walked a few feet away, standing near the barbecue as he checked his phone. Nobody was calling, but a series of text messages were coming through, all from AJ.

* * *

Tech guys at SDPD tracked the email to an IP addy downtown. Beachside Internet Café. Grier used free email account, registered with fake name.

The next message beeped in.

* * *

Staff couldn’t ID Grier from pic. Barista remembers guy in baseball cap, sunglasses, looked shady, but she didn’t see his face.

A final text popped up.

* * *

Give me a couple of hours before you bring her home. Wiring got screwed up. Two monitors are down. Gotta fix them.

He put away the cell, experiencing only a fleeting spark of disappointment. He’d known Grier’s message would be a dead end. The man was too smart to send an email from his personal account, or to register for a new one under his real name.

Caleb glanced at Marley. She was amused by something her brother had said, her blond hair bouncing over her slender shoulders as her body vibrated with laughter.

She looked unbelievably beautiful in her old denim shorts and thin red tank top.

Her face was shining, her plump lips curved with delight as another burst of laughter rolled out of her chest.

He suddenly pictured how she’d look when she found out the truth about who he was. The shine in her eyes would fade to a dull matte. Those lips would tighten with fury. Her joy would fizzle like a candle in the rain.

Caleb bent his head and pretended to text something on his phone, his blood pressure rising. He’d screwed up, given in to temptation and now he had to live with the knowledge that he’d deceived a woman he was really starting to care about.

Marley would never forgive him for lying to her.

He was also pretty certain that he’d never be able to forgive himself.

* * *

G ODDAMN ADULTEROUS BITCH .

Patrick could barely contain the streaks of fury shooting through his body like hot bolts of lightning.

He’d been standing by the window for the past hour, still stunned by what he’d seen.

The cop, strolling out of Marley’s house at ten o’clock in the morning.

And then the two of them getting into the cop’s shiny Range Rover an hour later, going off to who knew where.

Patrick had watched Mr. DEA arrive on Marley’s porch the evening before, and all night he’d paced the bedroom, his anger building, growing, until his gut was knotted with wrath.

That whore.

She’d slept with the cop. At the start of the evening, Patrick had tried making excuses for her. She was just being nice. A friendly neighbor. But he was all out of excuses.

Marley had slept with another man.

His Marley had let another man touch her.

Patrick drew his arm back and sent it smashing into the wall.

A frightened gasp sounded from the bed, where Lydia White lay in fear.

He ignored her, didn’t even feel the pain in his hand.

Nor did he pay much attention to the neat hole he’d just punched in Lydia’s drywall.

The acidic taste of betrayal burned in his mouth, making him want to unleash another upper cut at something else.

Mainly the jerk who’d just had sex with his girlfriend.

Releasing a strangled shout, Patrick edged toward the canopy bed and sank down on the ugly flowered bedspread. His heart thudded, each sharp beat vibrating with rage and desperation.

“How could she do this to me?” he demanded, staring at Lydia. “Everything I’ve done the past few months was for her. Do you think I like hiding out in this shit hole, staring at your wrinkled old face? I could have left the country months ago!”

But he hadn’t. He’d been getting cash together, calling his contacts in South America to help him disappear, arranging for new identities for him and Marley.

And instead of being patient, instead of trusting that he would take care of her, she’d gone out and slept with the first guy to come knocking at her door. Ungrateful little bitch.

Patrick dropped his head in his hands. Rubbed his aching temples.

“I can’t let her get away with this,” he mumbled.

Lydia let out a muffled yelp, beginning to struggle against the duct tape binding her hands and legs.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “Just. Shut. Up.”

How could Marley betray him? How could she?

Patrick slowly uncurled his fists and took a long, calming breath. Fine, so she’d screwed around on him. Big deal. He’d get over it.

But first…

First he had to make Marley pay for what she’d done to him.