Reconcilable Differences Page 12

  A quick scan of the room indicated the intruder was alone, so he stole soundlessly across the room. His hand brushed a tabletop and encountered the television remote. On impulse he picked it up, moved closer to the intruder’s back, and then pressed the power button on the remote.

  Fortunately, the cowboys and Indians were still shooting it up on the tube. Startled, the intruder jerked his head toward the sudden sound of gun blasts and light coming from the television set.

  Dave sprung at him, and wrapped an arm around the man’s neck in a chokehold.

  “Drop it or I’ll break your neck.”

  “Okay,” the man cried out.

  As a folded newspaper fell to the floor, Dave recognized the intruder. It was the last person he expected it to be. Releasing him with a shove, Dave sent the man stumbling backward onto the couch.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Dave switched on the lights and then walked over and turned off the television.

  “I came to talk to Trish,” Henry Hunter said.

  “Ever hear of the telephone, Henry?”

  Henry Hunter glared at him with contempt. “I might ask the same thing about you. You almost killed me.” He sat up and adjusted his clothing.

  “Too bad. I must have lost my touch.” Dave reached under the pillow and pulled out the gun.

  At the sight of it, Hunter’s eyes looked near to bulging out of the sockets.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Did the bastard really think he intended to shoot him?

  “So what was so important, Henry, that you had to come here at this time of night?”

  Hunter pointed to the newspaper he had dropped. “See for yourself.”

  Dave picked up the folded paper. It was the early edition. On the front page of the style section was a picture of Trish laughing up at him as they sat with his arm around her shoulders.

  The caption read: Merry Widow Mourns Murdered Mate. He scanned the accompanying article:

  Following the memorial service for her murdered husband, Robert Manning, socialite Patricia Hunter Manning spent the afternoon in the company of an old friend. Sources indicate it’s her former fiancé, David Cassidy. The two appeared to be very chummy; could be instead of a funeral dirge our Trish might be humming “Seems Like Old Times.”

  The article went on to touch on the grisly details of the murder and say that the killer had not been apprehended. It then closed with a reference to Hunter’s position in the community.

  It was the very thing the Agency hoped would draw out McDermott. However, Hunter was not pleased at all.

  “I might have known your showing up again would cause problems. Are you satisfied that you succeeded in getting even my name smeared in the gossip section of the paper?”

  “Be patient, Henry. As soon as you’re nailed for Manning’s murder, it’ll be the front page.”

  “Manning’s murder? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “My money’s on you, Henry.”

  “I swear to you, I didn’t murder Robert Manning.”

  “Give Trish a break and don’t make the same oath to her. You’ve lied to her enough. And I’m not buying your reason for coming here after midnight was to show her a damn picture in a gossip column.”

  Henry slumped back and lowered his head. He looked vanquished. Was there actually a crack in his armor?

  “Is Trish okay?” Henry asked.

  “What do you mean? As far as I know she is.”

  “I mean, did anything occur out of the ordinary tonight?”

  Damn straight! He had walked out of that bedroom when all he could think of was making love to her. “Where is this going, Henry?”

  Hunter glanced up at him and fear glittered in his eyes. “Trish tells me you were on the squad that got her and Robert out of Morocco.”

  Dave neither confirmed nor denied it, but waited in silence for Henry to continue.

  “I want your word that you won’t repeat to anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

  “I don’t buy a pig in a poke, Henry, so I’d never make a promise like that.”

  “Even if it affects Trish?”

  “Little late for your concern for her, isn’t it, Daddy? I covered your ass once for her sake, so you’ve used up your get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  “Damn you, Dave, this is serious. Trish is in danger.”

  “What kind of danger?”

  “If you repeat this to anyone I’ll deny it,” Henry said. “Colin McDermott called me tonight.” He glanced up to see if he had Dave’s full attention.

  He had it all right.

  “Who’s Colin McDermott?” Dave asked.

  Hunter snorted. “Let’s not play games. McDermott asked me if I got the calling card he left for me,” Henry continued. “At first I didn’t know what he meant, until he said that if I didn’t give him back the diamonds and five million dollars, Trish would meet the same fate.”

  “You’re saying McDermott admitted killing Manning.”

  “What does it sound like to you?” Hunter snapped.

  “Sounds like you could be trying to convince me that you didn’t kill him.”

  “I didn’t kill him! Dammit, Dave, don’t you understand? I don’t have any diamonds and McDermott’s threatened to kill Trish.”

  “That’s so not going to happen,” Dave said.

  “He’s not bluffing. He means what he said. The man’s a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Like I don’t know that. I figured you were dealing with this terrorist, Henry, and Manning was your leg man. Is that why you encouraged Trish to marry him?”

  “That’s not the issue right now. Keeping Trish safe is.”

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to her. In the meantime, haul your ass into the CIA and tell them what you’ve just told me. Maybe if you cooperate with them, you won’t have to do time.”

  “I’m not going to prison, Dave. I’ll make you an offer. You take Trish some place where she’ll be safe. Money’s no object. I’ll handle McDermott.”

  “What makes you think he won’t kill you instead?”

  “He’s a smart man. He’s not going to cut off the money source. With both Robert and bin Muzzar dead, I’m the only one he’s got to turn to.”

  “Knowing what you do about him, you’d continue to do business with him? For God’s sake, why would you risk your life and Trish’s for a damn bag of diamonds! You don’t need the money.”

  “There’s no such thing as too much money. But I don’t do it for the money. I do it for the excitement of getting away with it.”

  “Excitement! The man’s responsible for the death of innocent people. You’re playing a game with people’s lives. You’re even sicker than I thought.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Everything has to be by the book with you,” he scoffed. “Mr. Straight-and-Narrow Cassidy. All brains and no guts. Did you think I’d let my daughter waste her life married to a prick like you?”

  “What’s going on here?”

  Both men spun in surprise to see Trish standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “Will the two of you please lower your voices before you wake the whole building with your shouting. Dad, what are you doing here at this time of night?”

  “Delivering the newspaper,” Dave said. He went into the den to get away and closed the door.

  Confused, Trish turned to her father. “What happened? What are you and Dave quarreling about now?”

  Henry tossed her the newspaper. “See for yourself. The minute he shows up, you make a fool of yourself.”

  Trish read the article and then put the paper aside. “It’s just some spiteful reporter earning his pay. Deb and Tom were sitting in the same booth with us and we were talking about old times.”

  “And you still had some old times to talk over? Is that why Cassidy’s spending the night?” Henry snarled.

  “Dad, I love you very much and I don’t wish to hurt you, but whom I spend
the night with is my business. I’ve made it clear to you how I feel about Dave, and nothing you say will change that. I made the mistake of losing him once. I won’t do it again.”

  “Don’t you have any pride, Trish? Can’t you see you’re throwing yourself at him? Groveling at his feet for the sake of his vulgar pawing?”

  “Dad, please give it up. I’m not going to argue with you over whom I sleep with. But you can be sure it will be Dave if he wants me.”

  “Mark my words, you’ll regret it one day.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about regrets. I’ve lived with them for the past six years.”

  In leaving, Henry threw the apartment-door key she’d given him on the table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when it happens.”

  Trish went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice. As she sipped it slowly, she thought of the exchange with her father. He was angry because he hadn’t gotten his way, but he’d get over it.

  She’d made a choice between him and Dave once, and she wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. No matter how much she loved her father and didn’t want to hurt him, the woman in her needed more than a pat of approval on the head from her daddy.

  She’d done a lot of growing up in the past six years, and she doubted either of the two men realized or recognized it. She’d gone into business, and tonight she’d made another life-altering decision.

  Despite what she had said to David during their argument, the instant that door closed behind him she knew she could never give up on him.

  She’d misled him—and herself—into believing she could. She was going to fight to hold on to him. Once more fate had brought them together—and she had no intention of defying the gods again.

  She was intelligent enough to recognize that maybe things could never return to what they’d been before their split, but she was willing to settle for whatever he was willing to give.

  There was nothing standing in the way of them being lovers. And, God forbid, if the day ever came he wanted out of that arrangement, she would have to let him go. Until then, she’d have as much of him as he—and the damn CIA—would let her have.

  Somehow she would have to make that clear to him and her father. But from this moment on, she was taking charge of her life. The city’s charities would just have to find a different organizer, her dad would have to hire himself a hostess to run his social activities.

  Tonight she had discovered a truth she had dared not hoped to believe. Dave had given himself away when he admitted he couldn’t hate her. Despite all his actions to the contrary, he still wanted her. And that’s all she needed to know. If she couldn’t have his love, she was willing to settle for just sex. At least, they’d be together.

  So, whether he realized it or not, that control he exercised was starting to crumble. The Walls of Jericho were about to come crashing down. At thirty years of age she was being given a second chance at happiness—another grab at the golden ring on the merry-go-round.

  And this time she wasn’t going to blow it.

  “I’m sorry, Trish.”

  He moved like a cat. She took a deep breath and turned around. “It’s not your fault, Dave. How about a glass of orange juice?”

  He grinned. “For breakfast, yes. Right now, a cold beer would taste good.”

  Lord, how she loved that infectious grin of his; Lord, how she had missed seeing it.

  “Sorry, I hadn’t planned on you spending the night or I would have gotten some in.”

  “It’s not critical, Trish.”

  An awkward silence developed between them again, so she turned away and rinsed out the glass, then popped it into the dishwasher.

  “Dave, I’m sorry about the argument.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Your father and I will never get along.”

  She turned around to face him. “I meant our argument. I said some pretty nasty things to you. I didn’t mean them.”

  “We both did. Forget it.”

  “Did you mean it when you said you’ve never stopped thinking of me?”

  “Dammit, Trish! What do you want from me?” He walked away.

  The cowering Trish might have hesitated to pursue the discussion, but the new Trish was on a mission and not to be put off. It was time for Gabriel to blow his horn.

  “All I want is the truth, Dave.”

  He sighed in resignation. “Why can’t you let it go, Trish? Words can’t change realities. And the reality is that there’s no hope for us. You’re beating a dead horse.” He walked away and went back into the den.

  She had some hard thinking to do. There were a lot of issues to be resolved, and she’d probably be better off thinking them all through carefully before blundering blindly into trying to solve them.

  Trish returned to her bedroom and closed the door.

  The following morning Trish awoke, yawned and with a contented smile raised her arms above her head and stretched.

  Trish was very pleased with herself. She had carefully considered all the pros and cons of the changes she intended to make in her life and there was no time like the present to begin to execute them. She reached for the telephone and called Deb. They agreed to meet for lunch.

  Practically purring with pleasure, she hopped out of bed and took a shower, then intentionally put on the jogging suit Dave had bought her in Germany and opened the bedroom door.

  Dave was in the kitchen. Waking up in the morning to find Dave in the kitchen was definitely one of the pros in her decision making. Waking up to find him in her bed was a future incentive—the near future.

  “Good morning. Hmm, that coffee smells good.”

  “Morning.” He poured her a cup and handed it to her.

  “So, what’s up, Doc?” she said brightly.

  He looked at her surprised. “Who told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  Suddenly, she was struck by what he meant. “Oh, no! Those stupid dwarf names again. Don’t tell me you have one, too.”

  “You always did have a quick mind,” he said.

  “Heigh ho, heigh ho.”

  He failed at trying to hold back a chuckle. “And a big mouth.”

  “And no one knows better than you what I can do with it.”

  “Now you’re hitting below the belt, Trish.”

  “Your point being?”

  “My point is you’re not Snow White. So if you think you can turn me on with that kind of gutter talk, Miss Potty Mouth, you’re wasting your time.”

  “So wash out my mouth. Now what’s with all this dwarf business, Doc?”

  “If you’ll drop the Doc bit, I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “We’re known as the Dwarf Squad, and those are our code names with the Agency.”

  “And which came first—the squad name or the dwarfs?”

  “I guess it was the squad name. Remember the picture of the team. Tony Sardino—”

  “The one who was killed in Beirut,” she said.

  Dave nodded. “When the squad was first formed, Tony was a bashful kind of guy and Mike always called him that. It gave us the idea for the Dwarf Squad and that’s how we got our code names.

  “If I didn’t trust you, Trish, I wouldn’t have told you this much. And do yourself a favor and forget that I did. Our code names should be kept confidential.”

  He said he trusted her. She was breaking through that wall of disdain he’d placed between them.

  “Thank you,” she said solemnly.

  “For what?”

  “For trusting me.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You trust me, don’t you?”

  “With my life, Dave.”

  She could feel the treacherous slide of her newly acquired independence. This was no time to weaken. The stakes were too high.

  “So what’s on your agenda today?” he asked.

  “Lunch with Deb. I’m considering investing some more capital into the business.”

  His arched brows ma
de his surprise apparent. “Really. You and Deb are in business together?”

  “Yes. Interior decorators. We have been for the past two years.”

  “Good for you, Trish. I remember how the two of you always talked about doing that. Glad to hear you finally did start a business.”

  “Devoting my time to charities was fine, but a couple of years ago I decided I needed something that would give me a chance to be creative. I still volunteer to help whenever I can, but I gave up organizing and running charity events.”

  “And you’re sure that’s creative enough for you?”

  “My preference would be having a baby. Now that would be creative.”

  “Why not adopt? I’m sure your father would have a way to cut through the red tape.”

  “Who knows? I might have to. My biological clock is ticking away. But at the risk of sounding old-fashioned, Dave, I prefer my baby to have a father if at all possible. It’s sad enough that single mothers have to raise their children alone due to tragedies or unanticipated circumstances, but, if possible, at least I’d like to start out by giving my baby the best start a child can have—both a loving mother and father.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “Definitely. It’s not just a passing fancy on my part.”

  Not in the least, David Cassidy. I’ve thought about it for a long time. Over six years to be exact.

  She cast a yearning glance at him. Haven’t you guessed by now, it’s always been your child I want to bear.

  “Why didn’t we ever have a love child, Dave?”

  “What brought that on?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because we’re on the subject of babies.”

  “Frankly, it never crossed my mind when we were together. I doubt it did yours either. Maybe we both are old-fashioned, Trish, and all the pieces weren’t in place yet. Isn’t there an old saying about love, marriage and then a baby carriage. But, in hindsight, considering our bust up, it’s just as well that we didn’t have one.”

  “I suppose you’re right, of course. You usually are. But you’re wrong about one thing, Dave. It did cross my mind when we were together.”

  She stood up and forced a game smile. “I’m going to go jogging.”

  “Haven’t you noticed, it’s raining.”