Read Online Against All Odds by Irene Hannon - Free Book Online Page A

mood.”
    “Uh-huh.” Mark picked up the book and shoved it against Coop’s chest with a smug look. “And take this with you. It might help spice up your social life. Remember: women like guys who talk. You’re the one who could learn a few things.”
    Grasping the book, Coop turned his back and headed for the couch, dismissing the temptation to refute Mark’s assessment.
    Because once again, his partner was right.

     
    Six hours later, when the ringing phone brought Coop instantly awake, he felt a little more human. The restorative power of a few hours of sleep never failed to astound him.
    Swinging his legs to the floor, he joined Mark in the kitchen as the answering machine kicked in.
    “This is Salam Farah from the U.S. embassy in Kabul. I am trying to put a call through to Monica Callahan from her father.”
    As the accented voice spoke, Coop strode forward and checked the caller ID, a feature that had been added to her phone yesterday. The number on the digital display matched the one he’d memorized in David Callahan’s file. He picked up the handset.
    “Mr. Farah? Evan Cooper with the FBI. If you’ll hold a moment, I’ll see if Ms. Callahan is awake.”
    Depressing the mute button, he turned to find Monica in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. She was dressed in a loose-fitting pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, her hair tangled, her face makeup free. It was apparent the ringing phone had roused her too.
    “A call from your father.” Coop kept his finger on the mute button.
    “I don’t want to speak with him.” Her jaw firmed into a stubborn line.
    “What would you like me to say?”
    “I don’t really care.”
    Giving her an appraising look, Coop released the mute button. “Mr. Farah, Ms. Callahan would prefer not to accept her father’s call. However, I’d be happy to speak with him instead.”
    The room went silent.
    “Mr. Cooper?”
    “Yes, sir. Good morning.”
    The diplomat dispensed with the niceties. “How is my daughter?”
    “Fine, sir.”
    “I understand she’s refused to go to a safe house.”
    Coop eyed Monica. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her shoulders were rigid.
    “That’s correct.”
    “You need to change her mind.”
    “I understand, sir. We’re continuing to work on that.”
    “Until you succeed, use every means at your disposal to protect her . . . and give her my love.”
    “I will, sir.”
    The line went dead.
    Replacing the phone in its cradle, Coop turned to Monica. “He sends his love.”
    Bitterness tightened her features. “The man doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
    A few more seconds of strained silence ticked by as Coop studied her. He considered asking how she’d slept, but the dark circles under her eyes gave him his answer.
    What he really wanted to know was why there was such antipathy between father and daughter. It was difficult to draw too many conclusions from his brief phone conversation with David Callahan, but the man sounded sincerely concerned—and in the diplomat’s request to pass on his love to Monica, Coop was certain he’d heard a catch in his voice. Monica also seemed like a caring, empathetic person. It was puzzling. And Coop didn’t like unsolved puzzles.
    “I hate to impose, but would you mind if I borrowed your guest bath for a quick shower? We’ll check into a hotel as soon as the other security team arrives, but in the meantime I’d hate to show up at your church looking disreputable.” Mark’s request, delivered with a grin, eased the taut atmosphere.
    “Of course. Let me get you some towels.”
    As she disappeared down the hall, Mark edged closer to Coop. “Here’s your chance to work on the safe house. And find out what gives between her and her father.”
    Draining his cup, Mark followed Monica down the hall. Coop heard the murmur of voices, the closing of a door, and then Monica reappeared and headed for the coffeemaker. Propping a hip against the counter, Coop took a sip from his own mug,