Secret Agent Man

123 Pages·1994·0.52 MB·English

by  Palmer Diana

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Secret Agent Man
By
Diana Palmer
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One

Lang Patton felt absolutely undressed without his credentials and the small
automatic weapon he'd grown used to carrying on assignment. It had been his
own choice to leave the CIA and take a job with a private security company in
San Antonio. He was hoping that he wasn't going to regret it.
He walked into the San Antonio airport—weary from the delayed
Washington, D.C., flight—with a carryon bag and looked around for his brother
Bob.
He was tall and big, dark-eyed and dark-haired, with a broad, sexy face. His
brother was an older version of him, but much slighter in build. Bob approached
him with a grin, a young boy of six held firmly by the hand.
"Hi," Bob greeted him. "I hope you just got here. I had to bring Mikey with
me."
The towheaded boy grinned up at him. He had a front tooth missing. "Hi,
Uncle Lang, been shooting any bad guys?" he asked loudly, causing a security
man who was talking to a woman at the information counter to turn his head
with a suspicious scowl.
"Not lately, Mikey," Lang replied. He shook his brother's hand and bent to lift
Mikey up onto his shoulder. "How's it going, pardner?" he asked the boy.
"Just fine! The dentist says I'm going to get a new tooth, but the Tooth Fairy
left me a whole dollar for my old one!"
"Just between us, the Tooth Fairy's going bust," Bob said in a lowered voice.
"Can I see your gun, Uncle Lang, huh?" Mikey persisted.
The security guard lifted both eyebrows. Lang could have groaned out loud
as the man approached. He'd been through the routine so often that he just put
Mikey down and opened his jacket without being asked to.
The security man cocked his head. "Nice shirt, or are you showing off your
muscles?"
"I'm showing you that I don't have a gun," Lang muttered.
"Oh, that. No, I wasn't looking for a gun.You're Lang Patton?"
Lang blinked. "Yes."
"Nobody else here fits the description," the man added sheepishly. "Well,
there's a Mrs. Patton on the phone who asks that you stop by the auto parts place
and pick her up a new carburetor for a '65 Ford Mustang, please."
"No, he will not," Bob muttered. "I told her she can't do that overhaul, but she
won't listen. She's going to prove me wrong or…cowardly woman, to sucker you
into it," he added indignantly to Lang, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"His wife—my sister-in-law—is a whiz with engines," Lang told the security
man. "She can fix anything on wheels. But he—" he jerked his thumb at an
outraged Bob "—doesn't think it's ladylike."
"What century is he living in?" the security man asked. "Gee, my wife keeps
our washing machine fixed. Saves us a fortune in repair bills. Nothing like a wife
who's handy with equipment. You should count your blessings," he added to
Bob. "Do you know what a mechanic charges?"
"Yes, I know what a mechanic charges, I'm married to one," Bob said darkly.
"She owns her own repair shop, and she doesn't care that I don't like her covered
in grease and smelling of burned rubber. All I am these days is a glorified baby-
sitter."
Lang knew why Bob was upset. He and his brother had spent their childhood
playing second fiddle to their mother's job. "You know Connie loves you," he
said, trying to pacify Bob. "Besides, you're a career man yourself, and a terrific
surveyor," Lang argued when the security man was called away to a passenger in
distress. "Mikev will take after you one day. Won't you, Mikey?" he asked the
child.
"Not me. I want to be a grease monkey, just like my mommy!"
Bob threw up his hands and walked away, leaving Lang and Mikey to catch
up.
The Pattons lived in Floresville, a pleasant little ride down from San Antonio,
past rolling land occupied by grazing cattle and oil pumping stations. This part
of Texas was still rural, and Lang remembered happy times as a boy when he
and Bob visited their uncle's ranch and got to ride horses with the cowboys.
Things at home were less pleasant.
"Time passes so quickly," Lang remarked.
"You have no idea," Bob replied. He glanced at Lang. "I saw Kirry downtown
the other day."
Lang's heart jumped. He hadn't expected to hear her name mentioned. In five
years, he'd done his best to forget her. The memories were sudden and acute,
Kirry with her long wavy blond hair blowing in the breeze, her green eyes wide
and bright with laughter and love. There were other memories, not so pleasant,
of Kirry crying her eyes out and begging a recalcitrant Lang to listen. But he
wouldn't. He'd caught her in a state of undress with his best friend and, in a
jealous rage, he'd believed the worst. It had taken six months for him to find out
that his good friend had set Kirry up because he wanted her for himself.
"I tried to apologize once," Lang said without elaborating, because Bob knew
the whole story.
"She won't talk about you to this day," was the quiet reply. Bob turned into
the side street that led to the Patton house. "She's very polite when you're
mentioned, but she always changes the subject."
"She went away to college before I left," Lang reminded him.
"Yes, and graduated early, with honors. She's vice president of a top public
relations firm in San Antonio. She makes very good money, and she travels a
lot."
"Does she still come home?" Lang asked.
Bob shook his head. "She avoids Floresville like the plague. She can afford to
since her mother sold the old homestead." His eyes shifted to Lang "You must
have hurt her a lot."
Lang smiled with self-contempt. "You have no idea how much."
"It was right after that when you were accepted for the CIA."
"I'd applied six months before," he reminded Bob. "It wasn't a sudden
decision."
"It was one you hadn't shared with any of us."
"I knew you wouldn't like it. But here I am, back home and safe, with some
pretty exciting memories," Lang reminisced.
"As alone as when you left." Bob indicated Mikey, who was lying down on
the back seat of Bob's Thunderbird, reading a Marvel comic book. "If you'd