Heart of Gold - By Tami Hoag Page 0,14
a character in a movie. Her brow knitted. “He could be out of touch with his aura.”
“Aura my Aunt Sadie.” Alaina sniffed. “He’s a cop. The attitude is a prerequisite for the job.” Dismissing the topic, she turned toward Faith. “Call it a night. Jayne and I can take care of the kitchen. Go read Lindy a bedtime story or something.”
Faith turned to dump her leftover onion salad into the trash. “She’s already asleep; she wasn’t feeling well. Besides, I can’t leave you two to handle Robo-Cop alone, when I’m the reason he’s here. Where is he anyway?” she asked, swearing to herself it was only idle curiosity that made her ask, not unbridled lust.
“On the porch.”
“Shane Callan,” Jayne mused dreamily. “With that name and that voice and those looks, it is a crime against humanity that he hasn’t found his way to Hollywood.”
“I only wish he hadn’t found his way here,” Faith complained, fanning herself with a pot holder as her hormones threatened to riot.
“Your safety is important,” Alaina said, shaking a serving spoon at her. “And not only to the Justice Department. If they think there’s some reason to assign you protection, then you ought to accept it.”
“They’re overreacting,” Faith insisted.
“Are they overreacting or are you underreacting?” Jayne questioned gently. “Honey, no one could blame you for not wanting to believe your life is in danger.”
Faith twisted the pot holder in her hands. “I don’t know anymore. The trial is a month away yet. I’d rather not think of it at all, but now I’ll be reminded of it every time I turn around and find Eliot Ness watching me as if I’m public enemy number one.”
“He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?” Jayne gave a half laugh, then made a stern face and propped her hands on her hips. “Shane Callan—he’s not just a man, he’s an adventure.”
Even Faith managed to laugh. Maybe Jayne was right in trying to find a lighter side to the situation. It was absurd for a federal agent to suspect her of wrongdoing. She was the most ordinary of women. Her needs were simple, she aspired to nothing beyond being a good mother. Yet this cynical, world-weary cop was watching her with an eagle eye. The joke was on Shane Callan.
But Shane Callan wasn’t laughing when he burst in the back door of the kitchen. His gun wasn’t laughing either. He pressed the nose of it to the head of the frazzled gray-haired man he shoved into the room ahead of him. Faith and Jayne both shrieked and jumped as Callan roughly spun the man around and slammed him back against the kitchen wall, causing three copper molds to clatter to the floor.
“Who the hell are you, and what the hell were you doing under that window?” Shane growled the words in the older man’s face.
The old man sputtered right back, though he was in no position to make demands. “Let me go, ye sly devil!” he ordered in an oddly lilting voice. “Who do ye think ye are, wavin’ a gun about!”
Shane’s fist wound tighter into the knot of fabric he clutched beneath the man’s bearded chin. “I’m the man who’s going to make you very unhappy if you don’t start answering questions.”
The control on Faith’s temper snapped like a toothpick when she realized whom Shane was holding at gunpoint. Furious, without a thought as to what Callan’s reaction would be, she stormed across the room.
“For Pete’s sake, put that gun down before you hurt someone! That’s my caretaker you’re assaulting, you overgrown bully.”
Shane loosened his hold on the man’s dirty brown work jacket and half turned to glare at Faith, lowering his pistol as he did so.
“Give me that,” she snapped, snatching the gun from his slack hand. “You obnoxious jerk! You can’t just bust into my home with guns a-blazing like some kind of reincarnated John Wayne, scaring everybody half to death! You could have given poor Mr. Fitz a heart attack!”
Mr. Fitz stepped away from the wall and his captor, somehow managing to look down his hooked nose at Shane, who stood a head taller. He adjusted his jacket, which reeked of fish, like a king arranging his cloak, then stroked a smoothing hand over his shaggy gray beard.
Shane ignored the old geezer in favor of riveting Faith with a burning look. He was furious with himself for letting her take his gun. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he so off his game he