Mr. C had forgiven him for his error. Reluctantly. Gregor rubbed the newly acquired scar on his chin.
He had been allowed to survive for one reason alone: his promise to take care of the priest personally. Mr. C had found the concept amusing. He supplied Gregor with limited funds and an even more limited amount of time to accomplish his goal.
Gregor did not understand why his superior felt such a determination to rid himself of Caine. True, the Shaolin had helped cut into their profits, but the operation had grown so large under Mr. C's management that such trifling disturbances were best ignored. Not that he was in any position to question his superior's motivations. Yet he did have a regrettable tendency toward undue curiosity.
Thus the computer. One way or another, Gregor would uncover everything there was to find about Kwai Chang Caine--including what made him so important to one of the biggest crime lords in the country--and he would need every tool at his disposal. He could not afford to blunder, as the professional had done, for his taskmaster was far more insistent upon punishment than the harshest member of the judicial system.
The assassin had sloppily overlooked and underestimated a police detective, leading to his downfall. Gregor would make no such mistakes. In fact, he would take the exact opposite course of ation. He would pay a great deal of attention to this particular cop.
The characters on the screen reflected starkly in his eyes as he contemplated the name of his first target. Mary Margaret Caine.
She came over to his desk so she wouldn't have to shout. "I'm covering for Mary Margaret. She said she had something important to do. She's taking my stakeout tonight in return." She raised her eyebrows. "You suppose she has a romantic rendezvous with your father planned?"
Peter shook his head, exasperated. "I'm sure I wouldn't know."
"So what's the scoop?" She leaned closer. "I hear the honeymoon hasn't worn off. She's certainly still walking on air."
"Why don't you ask her? Isn't that what you two talk about?"
"She refuses to breathe a word," Jody grumbled. "Doesn't want to embarrass you, she says...hah! Like I believe that."
Peter saved his file and let the screen saver activate while he talked. "I haven't even been able to pry the honeymoon location out of them. Mama didn't come back with a tan, though, so I guess it wasn't a place with a lot of sun."
"Either that or they spent all their time indoors," Jody helpfully pointed out.
Peter gave her a sour look. "Thank you. My mind really needed to go there."
"Sorry," she said, far too cheerfully for the apology to be authentic.
He was used to it by now, though. In the months since the wedding, he'd been on the receiving end of practical jokes and teasing commentary from the rest of the precinct gang--including the day they had decorated his desk with a Cinderella theme and plastered stepmother warnings everywhere.
Mary Margaret had taken her share of jibes too, of course, but she just accepted them with a serene smile and went about her business. Peter turned out to be much more entertaining to torment.
"Don't you have work to do?" he complained.
"All right, all right!" She held up her free hand in mock surrender. "Blame a girl for asking about her friend..."
He ran a hand through his hair when she went to her own desk. One detail still nagged him about his father's wedding--the events that had inspired it. They had captured the assassin hired to kill the Shaolin and traced him back to his employer, but there the trail had gone cold. No explanation. No guarantee that it wouldn't happen again.
Peter didn't like that threat hanging over his family. They all had lives dangerous enough; they didn't need any further complications. Too often they had been subjected to dark forebodings, anguished cries for help, and urgent news that something had gone terribly wrong.
With all that had happened recently, they were about due for some good news.
He opened his eyes and watched her pass, curious at her mix of emotions. She was broadcasting strongly, partially excited, partially scared, and decidedly playful. Which meant she was probably plotting something as a surprise for him.
He hoped it didn't involve quite as much tomato sauce as the last time.
With a slight smile he unfolded himself from the lotus position and followed her. The moment he stepped through the doorway, his hand whipped up to catch the projectile aimed at his head. He easily plucked three more out of the air before the bombardment ceased.
Mary Margaret grinned. "Just keeping you on your toes."
He dumped the bananas into the nearest empty basket and joined her in putting the rest of the groceries away. "Why are you not at work?" he asked, attempting to get to the heart of her strange mood. Her feelings were often closely tied to her job.
She gnawed on a fresh carrot thoughtfully before responding. "I switched off with Jody. I'm taking her stakeout tonight--which means I'll be home late, so don't wait up."
He carefully folded one of the empty bags and reached out to receive the other. Her statement had the ring of a partial truth, but he did not mind that she kept something back. He trusted her completely and knew she meant him only happiness. Instead of prying further, and perhaps ruining the surprise, he engaged her in what he believed to be neutral conversation. "Has your day gone well?" She had been out and about all morning, apparently shopping.
She took his hand and squeezed it gently, leaning forward to plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." Then she drew away and waved. "I've got a few more errands to run. See you tonight. And don't think that just because I'm not here you can hog all the sheets!" she finished as she disappeared through the door.
He shook his head, bemused as usual by her unpredictability.