Carnal Innocence

Elise had initially been turned on by the badge and the gun. She’d gotten a thrill from dating a real-life hero. But after the fun had worn off—about the time Sean was thinking about getting serious—he’d found her recent correspondence with her old college sweetheart. When he’d seen Elise and Frat Boy meet for dinner and had caught them kissing, Sean had known it was over with her.

Thank God he’d had the Bureau to return to the next morning. For eight years now, the job had never let him down.

Letting his shoulders expand and settle with a weary sigh, Sean picked up the goofy card that had come in the mail from his sister at Stanford University, and smiled. Sabrina might be the one woman he could count on in this world. Count on without question. Even if she did have the balls to razz him about his single status.

He had nothing against women, nothing against marriage.

He just wasn’t going to put his faith in either one of them.

“Something you want to share?” Thomas’s pointed question brought Sean back to the glassed-in confines of their tiny office.

“Nah. It’s just a note from Bree.” Sean smiled again, easily picturing Sabrina’s long wavy curls and mischievous grin. “Checking on me before she leaves the country for her next graduate studies project.”

Thomas adjusted his glasses. “You’re okay with that?”

Sean shrugged. He’d had a lot of years to get used to taking care of his little sister. He hadn’t had enough to get used to her being all grown up and gallivanting around the world to dig up buried treasures in pursuit of her Ph.D. in archaeology.

Another image, of a little girl with equally long hair—black instead of blond—filled his mind and pushed aside his sentimental thoughts. A simmering frustration tensed his muscles and pulled his mouth into a taut line. He tucked Sabrina’s card into his top drawer and looked across the desks to Thomas. “One thing I know I’m not okay with is Alicia Reyes’s kidnapper walking away because of a legal technicality.”

Sean swiped a hand over his jaw and scratched at his scraggly beard. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning. He and Thomas had been too busy piecing together the facts of the young girl’s kidnapping. Alicia was home safe now, but her kidnapper would never stand trial if they couldn’t come up with more than circumstantial evidence to warrant an arraignment.

“We were that close to nailing Marquez. So what if we entered that house without a warrant?” Sean thumped his finger on the desk. “We had the warrant in our hands before we opened the closet and found the ropes with the hair samples.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Maddox.” Thomas stood and straightened his tie. By this time of the afternoon, Sean had no idea where he’d discarded his. “But without Rossini to give us the go-ahead on using that rope, Marquez is just a creepy guy who lives in the neighborhood.”

Thomas adjusted the holster he wore strapped around his shoulder, and picked up his suit coat from the rack beside their office door. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He tossed it to Sean. “Here. Do you even know it’s May 29?”

With easy reflexes, Sean caught the package. Closer inspection showed it to be a present.

“Happy birthday,” Thomas added.

Sabrina’s card had come early, before she took off for parts unknown. Since then, Sean had lost track of the days. Thomas, of course, never missed such details. “You shouldn’t have.” Sean dredged up a sly grin and ripped into the ribbon and paper. “What’s this supposed to be?” Thomas had given him a tiny, black, leather-bound book. He thumbed through the pages. Inside he found an assortment of names and phone numbers. “Noelle. Kris. Cassie. Sue. Sherry. Mary Ann.”

“Since Elise left, you don’t seem to have a little black book of your own, nor would you take the time to use one. So I thought I’d share some friends of mine.” Thomas walked over and tapped the book. “I put the names of six very nice ladies in there. They’re smart, they’re sexy, they’re available. And they’re willing to meet you, which is no small accomplishment on my part, I might add. Why don’t you call one of them and go celebrate your birthday tonight?” Thomas shoved aside a stack of files and sat on the corner of Sean’s desk. “What are you now? Thirty?”

“Thirty-two.”

“That’s almost over the hill, buddy. You’re good at your job, Sean. No one would ever argue that. But this stack of paperwork and that badge aren’t going to keep you warm at night.” Thomas shrugged, indicating the logic of his argument was irrefutable. “It’s not as if women don’t like you. You’re not bad-looking, you work out, you have that James Bond accent you inherited from your dad going for you.”

Sean leaned back in his chair and listened. As much as he might not want to hear it, he trusted Thomas’s opinion. No one could have predicted the two men would become such good friends. First of all, they were polar opposites in looks and personality. Thomas was tall and lanky. With his bookish demeanor and dark hair, he’d always reminded Sean of Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. Sean wasn’t quite as tall, and he was more likely to be cast as Schwarzenegger’s stand-in in some action flick. His blond hair always seemed to be out of place, while Thomas was neat as a pin. Thomas was a thinker. Sean trusted his gut.

But they understood each other. Inside. Where it counted. A woman could never do that.

“I notice you’re not wearing a ring either, buddy,” Sean stated. “You’re thirty-two also.”

Thomas rose and headed for the door. “True. But I’ve got plans tonight. I can get the job done and keep the ladies happy.” He turned in the open doorway. “There’s not another thing we can do on the Marquez case except hope that legal gets a postponement until we can get a ruling from another judge on that rope.”

Sean refused to give up hope. Alicia Reyes had never given up hope while she’d been held hostage. He reached for the nearest file and opened it. “There’s got to be another angle we can work here.”

Thomas shook his head. “Go home. Get laid. Get some sleep, if that’s how you want to celebrate. But do something for yourself. The case will still be here in the morning.”

Reluctantly, Sean agreed to the logic of Thomas’s argument. He was battle weary. But the thought of going home to his empty apartment wasn’t making him feel any peppier. He tossed the file back onto his desk and stood. “You’re right. We can finish saving the world tomorrow.”

“If you want, I’ll take you out for a beer,” Thomas offered.

“I thought you had plans tonight.”

“I do. But I can give her a call.”

Sean wouldn’t be such a spoilsport. “Forget it. I’m a big boy. I’ll find some entertainment on my own.”

“Okay, hotshot.” Thomas put two fingers to his brow and saluted him. “I hope your mission goes well tonight. See you in the morning. I’ll be expecting a full report.”

“Get out of here.” Once his partner had left, Sean reached behind his neck and rubbed at the tension that seemed to hang like a perpetual burden across his shoulders.

He really should take Thomas’s advice. Spend some time with a pretty lady. Share a few laughs. Do some serious catching-up on his involuntary celibacy of the past months.

At the very least he could call one of those names in Thomas’s black book and introduce himself. Maybe he could convince one of them to share some birthday cake with him.

His sex-deprived body jumped at a hazy image of a sexy naked lady licking frosting off his fingers. But as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring the image into sharp focus, it faded in a puff of smoke. His eyes shot open and focused on the mounds of paperwork instead. Damn, his imagination stunk.

Maybe he’d do better to buy a six-pack and a Playboy and ease his frustrations that way.

With that much of a plan made, Sean rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoned the cuffs. He was crossing the room to get his jacket when the door burst open.

“Hall. Maddox.”

“Chief?” The only man in the building who worked longer hours than Sean himself was Deputy Chief John Dillon. And judging by the scowl that creased his mahogany skin, his long hours were just getting started. “What’s up?”

Chief Dillon scoped the office. “Hall leave already?”

“It is after five.”

“Then you take a look at this.” He thrust a fax into Sean’s hands and started pacing. “That just came off the wire. The ambassador from San Isidro, Ramon Vargas, was found dead in his Washington, D.C., hotel suite this morning.”

Sean scanned the report for pertinent facts. “The local cops suspect foul play?”

“The San Isidrans are already on the horn demanding answers. Supposedly, he drowned in his bathtub, but there are bruises on his forearms and the back of his neck that indicate a struggle.”

“Isn’t this a case for the locals or the embassy police to handle? Why bring it to our attention?” Then he read the last line in the second to last paragraph. “Son of a bitch. Is this information accurate?”

“From a reliable informer.” Chief Dillon was shaking his head when Sean looked up. “I don’t believe in coincidence, either.”

“Vargas just returned from vacation on Pleasure Cove Island?”

“Sound familiar?”

With the thrill of the chase on again, Sean circled behind his desk and leafed through the scattered pile of papers. “Bingo.” He pulled out Judge Rossini’s itinerary for the past two weeks and compared it to the dates on Dillon’s report. “They were both on Pleasure Cove Island last weekend.”