Untameable: Merciless. Diana Palmer
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with you when your father and she got married?”
“Well, it doesn’t work out that way sometimes with religion, and the important point to her was that she was married when I was born. We were never really close,” she added. “I loved my father very much.” She cleared her throat and flushed. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to speak of such personal issues on the job.”
“I was encouraging you to,” he replied quietly. He studied her with open curiosity. “You love your son very much.”
She nodded. “I’m glad I decided not to end the pregnancy …” She almost bit her tongue off. She grabbed the phone and pushed in numbers. “I forgot to make your lunch reservations!”
Which she never did, considering it a menial chore. But he didn’t mention that. He’d upset her by asking personal questions. It hadn’t been intentional. He wondered about her private life, about the child.
While she was talking, he went back into his office. He’d meant to apologize to her for Cammy’s rudeness, which he was certain that she’d overheard. Then he’d been distracted by the photo of her child. She had thought of ending her pregnancy. Why? She seemed very maternal and conscientious to him, but perhaps she’d never wanted to be pregnant. Accidents did happen. It was just that his clearheaded administrative assistant didn’t seem the sort to have amorous accidents, of any type. In the past four years, he didn’t recall seeing her date anyone at all.
He sat down behind his desk and recalled her pregnancy. The Bureau didn’t discriminate, although her condition hadn’t gone down well with some people. But she’d been very quiet, very discreet, during the time she carried the child.
She’d almost died having the child, he recalled. It had disturbed him when he got his first look at her afterward. She’d been pale, listless, devastated by the ordeal.
He’d put that reaction down to pain and drugs following the caesarian section, but now he wondered even more about her history, about the shadowy father of her child.
The phone rang. He picked it up.
“It’s Sergeant Marquez,” Joceline said formally and put him through.
“Marquez,” Jon said. “What are you up to?”
“If you’re going to mention my run-in with the computer thief, don’t you dare,” came the dry reply. “I’ve already been the subject of extreme censure from everybody up to and including the mayor.”
“Really? Perhaps they had a glimpse of you running nude down the street and were impressed.”
“Get a life, Blackhawk, you’re just jealous of the attention I got,” Marquez scoffed. “I’ll bet if you ran nude down a street, nobody would even notice you!”
Jon laughed uproariously. “We’ll never know.”
“Anyway, what I called to tell you is that Harold Monroe beat the human trafficking charges with a hotshot public defender and got cut loose after the parents suddenly refused to testify,” he said. “I know the D.A.’s office probably notified you, but sometimes they’re slow. I wanted to make sure you knew.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me. The guy’s a total loon and incompetent at that. He can’t walk and chew gum at the same time.”
“Even people who fumble can perform amazing feats,” Marquez said. “You watch your back.”
“I’ll paint a target on it, so Monroe won’t have so much trouble finding me.” Jon chuckled. “Thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. You still following soccer?”
“Not so much. My video game is taking over my life.”
“I heard.” There was a pause. “You helped a tenth-level warrior get a bag to carry his loot in, over in the Barrens.”
Jon’s eyes popped. “Yes.”
“It was one of my alts,” Marquez chuckled. “See? You never know who you’re playing with.”
“Which reminds me, did you know that my brother’s brother-in-law plays, too? He’s got an 80 death knight.” He gave the name.
“Good grief, he fought the Horde with me in Darkshore a few months ago on the pier, before it was destroyed when the expansion came out!”
“He’s formidable.”
“I’ll say, he saved my butt. You just never know, do you?”
“That’s what makes it so exciting.” Jon hesitated. “You ever going to get married?”
“Look who’s talking! Wasn’t your last date that public defender who only went out with you to try to get information to save her client?”
Jon’s face hardened. “Yes.”
“She should have known better. I thought she was a little young for you.”
“Twenty-two, to my thirty, almost thirty-one. That’s not so much.”
“It’s a generation.” Marquez chuckled. “But she had an agenda.”
“It almost got her disbarred.”
“At least you didn’t have her taken out of your office in handcuffs.”
“That woman was a call girl,” Jon snapped. “I can’t even tell you what she did, and in my own damned office! It was all my mother’s fault.”
“Cursing in a federal office is not correct behavior and could get you censured by the SAC, sir,” Joceline’s blithe tone came over the phone.
“Stop eavesdropping!” Jon railed at her.
“And raising your voice is another infraction of the rules of common courtesy,” she reminded him.
“Joceline!” he growled.
“There’s a public defender out here who wants to speak to you.”
Jon hesitated. Marquez was chuckling softly.
“Oh, not that one,” Joceline replied at once, with a laugh in her tone. “This one is male and quite handsome.”
Why did that anger him? “I’ll see him in a minute. Send him to the canteen and show him where the coffeepot is.”
“That would be a menial chore, sir,” Joceline replied blithely. “As you know, I don’t perform menial chores. It’s not in my job description.” She hung up.
Jon slammed his hand on the desk. “One day I’ll have you hung on the flagpole!” he growled.
“Temper, temper,” Joceline said, sticking her head in the door. “You’ll ruin the finish on your desk. I asked Agent Barry to show the visitor to the coffee.” She gave him a smug look. “Apparently agents don’t mind making coffee. Is that in your job description?”
He picked up a magazine and hefted it, with glittery black eyes.
She closed the door with a snap. “Assault with a deadly weapon …!” came through it.
“A gaming magazine isn’t a deadly weapon!”
“Gaming magazines are against agency policy …”
Curses ensued.
“Sir!” Joceline exclaimed haughtily.
Jon actually groaned. Marquez was laughing outrageously.
“One day I’ll pour my lunch over her head,” Jon muttered.
“Make sure it’s something delicious,” Marquez suggested. “I’ll let you get back to the wars. Just wanted to make sure you knew about Monroe.”
“Thanks. I really mean it.”
“Hey,