by Lauren Carr
Busy calming the dog in his lap, David nodded his head in the direction of the end table on which he had placed his beer bottle and cell phone. “He’s not going to be mayor.”
Mac crossed over to the end table and bent over to observe the cell phone. With a swipe of his finger, he activated the screen to show that it had been recording. “How much did you get, David?”
“Everything.”
For the first time, Mac saw an expression of genuine fear in the councilman’s face. “Clark, I’m willing to bet money that you’re going to be in jail before election day.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Even after a year of married life, Murphy felt like every day with his bride was one of discovery. After their first official case working together, they were able to take a deep breath, gaze into each other’s eyes, and marvel at what a perfect fit they were for each other.
For Jessica, it was an excellent excuse for a date night. She’d made reservations at Marcel’s, one of Washington’s most popular five-star restaurants on Pennsylvania Avenue, for one of his fabulous seven-course meals for two.
The sun had begun to set behind the trees on the other side of the Potomac River when Jessica stepped out onto the front porch in time to see Tristan and Sarah trotting down the path from his guest cottage. Seeing Sarah dressed in shorts and an oversized T-shirt from the naval academy, Jessica was reminded that Murphy’s sister had been visiting Jessica’s brother.
Strange. My brother is dating my husband’s sister. Or is it really dating? She searched her mind but couldn’t recall their ever going out on a real bona fide date.
Gnarly and Spencer clawed and barked at the front door until it popped open—the lock and latch had been released by Nigel—and then they galloped across the yard with their tails wagging to greet the visitors.
Seeing Jessica dressed up in a silver-sequined cocktail minidress with a crisscross halter top and a daring plunging back, Sarah stopped and let out a low whistle. Jessica’s long legs were accentuated by four-inch sequined heels. “If Murphy hadn’t already married you, he would probably pop the question after seeing you in that.”
Jessica did a model-like turn. “Do you think?” Cocking her head at Tristan, she asked, “Would you two like to join us? I can call in to change the reser—”
“We’re going to watch a movie in the home theater,” Tristan said. “Since you two are going out, we—”
“How did you know we were going out?”
“I asked Nigel if you had anything on your calendars.”
“The always helpful Nigel.” Somehow, Jessica felt like her brother had walked in on her and Murphy while they’d been otherwise engaged.
Murphy drove Jessica’s purple Ferrari up to the front porch. “Hey, sis!” He waved to Sarah. “You didn’t put gas in my motorcycle after taking it out. You promised when you called the other day that you’d gas it up.”
“I will tomorrow before I leave.” Sarah leaned over the driver’s side door of the convertible to hug Murphy and give him a quick kiss. “I promise.”
On the other side of the car, Tristan opened the door so that Jessica could climb in. “We’ll all go out for breakfast together tomorrow.”
“We’re taking Gnarly back to Spencer.” Jessica strapped on her seatbelt. “Then we’ll be going to West Virginia for a few days to see J.J. since Murphy missed his graduation.”
“Guess I’ll see you when you get back,” Tristan said.
Wrapping her arms around Tristan, Sarah told Murphy, “Tell J.J. I said hi.”
“Be sure to let Gnarly and Spencer in before you two watch the movie,” Jessica said. “And please clean up after yourselves.”
With that, Murphy put the sports car into gear, and they sped around the circular drive to head down the driveway and through the gate, which closed after them.
“What do you wanna do first?” Sarah asked while lifting her shirt up over her head and waving it about. “Make out naked in the spa or go see the movie?”
With a husky laugh, Tristan swept her up into his arms and carried her inside and then to the spa in the back—forgetting about Gnarly and Spencer, who had taken off to chase a rabbit through the woods.
At Marcel’s, after they had toasted each other, Jessica with her first glass of wine and Murphy with his glass of water, Jessica saw that Murphy’s smile didn’t fully reach his eyes as he glanced around at the various patrons of the high-priced restaurant. Many of the diners were the upper echelon of the nation’s capital—those who held the reins of power.
Jessica laid her hand on Murphy’s. “Don’t tell me that you’d rather be home drinking a beer and watching a game.”
“No.” He kissed her fingertips before shooting a glance over his shoulder to a group decked out in tuxedos and gowns for a show taking place in one of the many theaters nearby. “That’s the DCI over there. The members of his security detail are eating at the other tables around him and over by the door.”
Jessica spotted the earbuds of the security officers protecting the head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Silently, she kicked herself for her lack of observational skills.
Murphy nodded his head toward a table behind her. “That’s an undersecretary of state and his wife.”
“Do you feel intimidated, like you aren’t worthy of dining in the same restaurant as them?”
Shaking his head, Murphy let out a breath. “No, that’s not it.” He leaned toward her. “Jurvetson is a hairsbreadth from becoming the DCI, Jessica.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she said. “CO said she’ll take care of it. She hasn’t let you—us—down yet.”
“And what about the next time?” Murphy asked. “The next Camille Jurvetson who puts her own ambitions ahead of our country’s security?”
“There have been power-driven narcissists since the beginning of time,” Jessica said, “especially in this town. But the way I see it, good and good people like you and the Phantoms always win out in the end.”
The server arrived with their first course, which was caviar.
“What if we hadn’t reached Tawkeel in time?” Murphy asked her in a whisper. “What if I hadn’t walked in on her assassin killing Wallace?”
“But you did,” Jessica said. “And I believe that the Phantoms saved Tawkeel and you tracked down Jurvetson for a reason.” She shook her cracker, which was covered with caviar, at him. “God hates slimy power-hungry fiends like Jurvetson, and you may not think so right now, but they always get their just desserts in the end.” She popped the cracker into her mouth. After taking time to chew and swallow, she added, “If we’re lucky, we’ll get to see it happen ourselves.”
Delighting in the thrill of the chase, Spencer zigged and zagged around the trees on the outer perimeter of the estate. Yapping merrily away, she suddenly realized that Gnarly was no longer behind her. After spinning around, the blue-furred shelty raced back through the trees until she found the German shepherd, who was standing tall and still and staring out beyond the trees and through the security fence at a black-paneled van. Gnarly crouched down on the ground and peered at the vehicle that had for some reason captured his attention.
Spencer picked up on the change in Gnarly’s demeanor.
Inside the van, six men were lined up against either side of the rear compartment, checking the frequency of the communications devices they were wearing in their ears. They were dressed in black from head to toe, and each one was wearing a ballistic vest. They were heavily armed with assault rifles, handguns, and fighting knives.
“We’ll be using secure network number seven,” their leader, a short, stocky man with a black goatee, said. “Our target is Murphy Thornton, a navy lieutenant.”
“You sure we have the right place, Elmo?” the largest of the men asked. “This place seems pretty rich for a simple navy lieutenant.”
“T
hat’s because Thornton married money, Tucker,” Elmo said. “Jessica Faraday, daughter of multimillionaire Mac Faraday, a retired homicide detective who has put a lot of bad people in jail. Our job is to take them and everyone in the house out. Make it look like she’s the prime target. That way, the police will assume that this was revenge for one of Faraday’s past cases and never suspect that it was the agency.”
“What’d Thornton do to get on our hit list?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t ask,” Elmo said. “Jurvetson ordered that he be taken out, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”
“Does that mean we get to have a bit of fun with the rich wife before we off her?” Cody, the youngest member of the death squad, wiped a drop of drool from his mouth.
“Cody, how many times do I have to tell you to focus on the job?” Tucker gave his head a slap.
“Mom told you to stop pounding on me!” Cody said.
“Everybody, focus on the job,” Elmo said. “We need to make this look like a hit by a mob or a drug cartel. If you want to torture them, fine—but don’t leave any physical evidence that could be traced back to us. You all know what happens to you if a cop comes knocking on your door. There’s no room in our business for loose ends.” To mess up was the equivalent of a death sentence—executed by a member of their own team.
The solemn reminder made each man nod his head.
The leader turned to the laptop he had attached to a series of computer monitors and set up toward the front of the van. “Everybody ready?”
They all acknowledged that they were ready.
“Go!”
The team of six men each carrying gear in a backpack jumped out of the back of the van. With a sense of determination, Tucker led them up to the control panel attached to the gate. He used a knife to pry open the access panel in the back and plugged one end of a USB cord into an outlet. The other end was then attached to a specially configured smart phone that was already open to an application. After he pressed a series of buttons, the phone beeped, and the gate swung open.
Their weapons drawn, all six men sprinted through the open gate and spread out across the estate.
On the other side of the trees, Gnarly jumped to his feet. Not quite sure about what had happened to excite the German shepherd, Spencer circled him and yapped for his attention until he nipped her on the butt and herded her into the woods toward the river.
“I wish you didn’t have to go back tomorrow,” Tristan whispered into Sarah’s ear. “I like having you here.”
“You only say that because it’s true.” Pulling him close to her, she hooked one of her legs behind his knee and rolled him over onto his back, landing on top of him.
A wide theater screen filled the wall on the other side of the room. Tristan and Sarah were so immersed in their last night together before she returned to Annapolis and he went back to his college studies that they had managed to tune out the first installment of the Scream series.
Not bothering to dress after their time in the spa, they had carried their clothes into the home theater and started the movie. Before the villain had killed his first victim, they were making love on the wet towels they had spread out on the floor.
But no amount of passion would’ve been able to drown out the high-pitched sirens and the red-and-white flashing lights that had abruptly gone off in every room of the house. The urgent nature of the alarm made Sarah and Tristan feel as if they had been transported onto a spaceship that was under attack.
“Code sixty-six!” Nigel said. “Intrusion! Intrusion! This is not a drill. Code sixty-six has been activated. Intruders are approaching the house from the north, south, east, west, and northeast—”
“Who the hell is that?” Sarah screamed.
“Nigel!” Tristan said.
“Who’s Nigel!”
“Our butler,” Tristan said while searching the floor for his eyeglasses. “Get dressed!” After putting on his glasses, he grabbed his pants. He didn’t think there was time to find his underwear. “We’ve gotta go!”
“Where? Murphy has a butler? Why haven’t I met him?” Sarah managed to find her panties and to yank on her shirt. “Where are my shorts?”
“Intruders are one hundred feet from the main house,” Nigel said.
“We don’t have time to look.” Leaving his shirt, her shorts, and their shoes behind, Tristan grabbed her hand and yanked her out of the home theater.
“We need to call the police!” Sarah pulled him toward the stairs leading to the main level. “Where are our phones? Murphy’s gun is in the bedroom upstairs.”
“Nigel has already contacted security.” Tristan dragged her behind him toward the panic room.
“Intruders are fifty feet from the main house,” Nigel said.
Tristan was almost to the door when he remembered Newman, Spencer, and Gnarly. He stopped. “The dogs!”
“Gnarly has taken Spencer to the guest cottage,” Nigel said. “Newman is in the game room watching the presidential debate.”
Tristan shoved Sarah into the panic room. “Where are you going?” Seeing the panel of keyboards and monitors, she asked, “What is this?”
Without answering, Tristan ran to the end of the hallway. “Nigel, if I’m not in the panic room before the intruders enter, close and lock the door. Keep Sarah safe.”
Nigel said, “I am programmed to keep all allies safe, even if they’re not secure in the panic room. Intruders are now within striking distance of all entrances to the main building.”
Tristan scooped the overweight Bassett hound up into his arms. Without stopping, he ran down the hall toward the panic room. In the doorway, Sarah beckoned for him to hurry.
“Intruders are now here.”
Saying a prayer, Tristan hit the brass plate inside the room. The steel-paneled door slid across the doorframe and latched into place. They could hear the door lock. The lights inside the room turned on. The monitors flashed on to reveal views of every room in the house.
“Panic room is now secure,” Nigel said.
In the hallway on the other side of the door, a pocket door disguised as a bookcase slid out and concealed the entrance of the panic room.
“Where is this Nigel?” Sarah asked Tristan, who’d set the Bassett hound on the sofa and turned on the television.
“He’s a virtual butler,” Tristan said.
“All buildings on the estate are now in lockdown,” Nigel said. “Code sixty-six has been activated and launched.”
The youngest member of the hit squad, Cody, made his way across the swimming-pool area in the back of the main house and jumped when he heard a motor kick on. Aiming his assault rifle in the direction of the noise, he paused when he saw covers unrolling and covering both the swimming pool and the spa.
The lights inside the house turned off, leaving the house in total darkness.
At the side door, Tucker used the same cord and cell phone application to bypass the home’s security system. After the phone beeped, he said, “Security is terminated.” He then picked the lock and opened the door.
Unaware of the pair of canine eyes watching from under the hedges on the outer perimeter of the backyard, the hit team entered the house.
“You need to taste this soup.” Jessica held out the spoon so that Murphy could taste the delectable dish. He found her violet eyes so much more mesmerizing than the soup.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He licked his lips. “I think I want to take you home and get you out of that dress.” His phone vibrated on his hip.
When she saw him take it out of his pocket, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Please don’t tell me you have to go on a mission now. CO promised you a week off.”
“It’s not CO,” Murphy said while reading the screen. “It’s Nigel. Code sixty-six. Someone is breaking into our house. We
have to go.”
“I should have known,” Sarah said. “If anyone would have a bat cave, it’d be Murphy.” She stomped one of her bare feet. “I am so jealous.”
“I helped design it.” Tristan pressed buttons and studied readings on the applications throughout the room. “If our lives weren’t in danger, you would be turned on right now.”
Taking in the array of monitors showing them the intruders moving from room to room throughout the house, Sarah said, “Well, even though the timing is inappropriate, I have to admit that I am very turned on.”
With a naughty grin, Tristan leaned back in his chair and patted his leg. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” She jumped into his lap and kissed him.
“What have you two done?” Jessica’s sharp voice interrupted their embrace. Her face filled one of the monitors. They could see that she was in the car and racing home.
Tristan pushed Sarah out of his lap, causing her to plop down onto the floor. “We did nothing. It looks like a bunch of military dudes have broken into the house.”
“How many are there?” Murphy asked offscreen.
“We count six.” Sarah scanned each of the monitors. “They’re armed with heavy military weapons and dressed in special-ops uniforms. They’re all throughout the house. We’re locked up in your bat cave.” With a shriek, she pointed at one of the monitors. “There’s Gnarly!”
While Tristan and Sarah watched, Nigel opened the side door to allow Gnarly inside. The door then closed and latched behind him.
“Send a text to CO. Tell her that Camille Jurvetson has just upped the ante,” Murphy said to Jessica.
On the main level of the house, Tucker used hand signals to send two of his men down the stairs to the lower level of the house. He and another man took the main level, and his brother, Cody, and the sixth man went upstairs.