Exposed in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  I could feel Declan move closer to me, his eyes burning into my profile.

  “Hand the phone to the chief,” Mike instructed.

  When I did, Declan placed his hand on the small of my back. I didn’t know if it was a gesture of support, or his way of reminding me that he knew exactly who I was and that I had some explaining to do.

  After a series of nods, uh-huhs, and okays, the chief handed me my phone, then turned and began barking orders to his team.

  Several minutes later, a dark sedan screeched to a stop behind the chief’s car. Mike and Carlos walked briskly up the sidewalk. They had their badges out, and the chief shook their hands. Even with the skeptical look on his face, he played nice as the two FBI agents exerted some control over the possible crime scene.

  Carrie Anne joined us on the front porch. “The natives are getting restless, chief.”

  “Sorry, Carrie Anne, but this is—”

  “Mike Donaldson, ma’am,” Mike interjected with his badge out. “FBI. This is my partner, Carlos. We’re going to let your customers go very shortly. Is there somewhere we can talk first?”

  As Mike was speaking to Carrie Anne, the chief was addressing Declan. “Why were you here so early this morning?” the chief asked. “Thought you’d be at the track watching your pride and joy work out.”

  “Aidan’s got that covered,” Declan answered. “I have a board meeting up at Wellington this morning.” He looked down at his expensive-looking watch. “… that I’m going to be late to.”

  “Agent Donaldson,” the chief said. “I can vouch for Mr. O’Roark, and I know how to reach him. Can he be on his way?”

  Mike cast his dark look on me, then turned to Declan. “Keep your phone on, Mr. O’Roark. We’ll need your statement.”

  I turned my back to Declan during the exchange, but the heat at my back was nearly unbearable. And when he eased past me on his way to his vehicle, it took everything in me not to look his way.

  Chapter 13

  Declan

  My phone rang just as I was leaving the board meeting at Wellington, Midland’s local boarding school for exceptionally intelligent and wealthy teens. Serving on the board was my way of giving back to the Midland community I’d been trying like hell to immerse myself in.

  Brooke’s name flashed across my phone, but since I probably wasn’t supposed to actually have her contact info in my phone yet, I answered like it was any other business call. “Declan O’Roark.”

  “Mr. O’Roark, it’s Agent Fairfax.” There was a slight tone of defeat, as well as professionalism, in her voice.

  “Hello, Brooke. What can I do for you?” I tried to keep my own tone light in nature.

  “We need you to come back to Carrie Anne’s to make a formal statement.”

  “I’m just down the street. On my way.”

  “And Declan,” she said, her voice softer as if trying to speak away from others. I had to press my phone harder against my ear to hear. “You and I need to talk. Later. Away from the B&B.”

  I hated the worry I heard in her voice, but this was the opening I’d been hoping for all morning. “Come to my house tonight. Seven o’clock. I’ll make dinner. It’s private and secure.” I felt the need to add that last part. After this morning, offering her a sense of security seemed important.

  Several beats passed while Brooke considered my invitation.

  “I’ll be there,” she said.

  She hung up just as I was pulling up in front of the B&B. Three police cars, two navy sedans, and a black SUV took up most of the street in front of the house, and an unusual number of neighbors were walking their dogs and children on the sidewalk across the street. Women paused to talk with hands covering their mouths.

  I entered the inn. Marti was serving iced tea to several police officers in the dining room. When she saw me, she walked over and pointed across the hallway to a room closed off by French doors. “Brooke said to send you in there when you arrived.”

  “Thanks, Marti.”

  She nodded in answer.

  I knocked lightly on the doors. One of the FBI agents answered and held out a hand. “Agent Salazar.”

  I shook his hand. “Declan O’Roark.”

  “Come in, Mr. O’Roark.”

  I entered the front parlor. It was comfortably furnished—though a bit frilly and too colorful for my taste—with a couple of sofas, two groupings of wingback chairs, and additional smaller chairs around the room. Perfect for guests of the inn to congregate and socialize.

  Brooke and the other agent were in a heated discussion in one corner of the room and didn’t even acknowledge my entrance.

  “I said, ‘Okay,’” Brooke snapped, jerking her arm from the man’s grasp. I had to restrain myself from walking over and punching the guy.

  Agent Salazar cleared his throat beside me. Brooke and the other agent turned.

  “Mr. O’Roark, nice of you to return,” said the agent. “I know you’re a busy man.” He crossed the room and introduced himself. “Special Agent Mike Donaldson.” He gestured to one of the chairs. “Please, sit.”

  After giving him a very firm handshake, I sat. Brooke rested a hip on the arm of a sofa and crossed her arms. She appeared to have recovered from her earlier panic and to be unaffected by her heated discussion with Agent Donaldson.

  “Mr. O’Roark,” Agent Donaldson began. “You were here at the café this morning when Brooke Fairfax arrived?”

  “I was.”

  “Do you usually drink your coffee here?”

  “On occasion. Especially when I have a meeting just down the street.” I sat back and rested an ankle on my knee. “Do I need to have an attorney present, Agent Donaldson?”

  Brooke’s lips twitched into a smirk, but she quickly erased the emotion.

  “Not at this time,” Agent Donaldson said. “We’ve received reports from the state lab concerning the assassination of the lieutenant governor.”

  “And?” I prompted, losing patience.

  “A substance called tacin killed Mrs. Centers. The substance was found on shards of her glass. However, no trace of the substance was found in the bottle of bourbon her drink was poured from, or in any of the other bourbon bottles found at the event.”

  Brooke remained motionless, her face giving nothing away. She’d already known about this substance last night, I was sure of it.

  “Do you have a question, Agent?” I asked.

  “Do you know what tacin is, or where one might gain access to such a lethal substance?”

  “Again, I’ll ask: Should I call my attorney? Is this a formal interrogation?”

  “Do you feel you need one, Mr. O’Roark?”

  I smiled. Dropping my leg to the floor, I leaned forward, clasping my hands in front of me. “Agent Donaldson, I am a very successful businessman with a rather substantial net worth. I don’t say this to brag; I say it as a matter of fact. There are a lot of people who would like nothing more than to take down one of the top one percent. I didn’t get to where I am without a lot of expensive lawyers on my payroll. Don’t play games with me. You can ask me whatever questions you’d like about the case, and I will answer you truthfully, but I won’t do so without an attorney present to make sure I don’t say something that you’ll twist and turn to use against me.”

  Mike Donaldson was no dummy. He looked back at Brooke, who kept her face neutral. Then he turned back and matched my arrogant grin. “Fine. Let’s change the subject. If you’re uncomfortable about my next set of questions, we’ll stop and move the questioning to the federal offices where your attorney can join us.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “You’ve met Brooke Fairfax.”

  “I have had the pleasure.” I leaned back in the chair again, more comfortable with the subject change.

  “You told her you Googled her and discovered she’s former FBI.”

  I hesitated, but answered. “I did discover her past employment. That’s correct.”

  “I know for a f
act that it took more than a basic internet search to discover that information.”

  “Again, is there a question?”

  He almost laughed. “Have you shared this information with anyone else?”

  “No. Only my head of security and I know that piece of information. And Maggie would never repeat anything I ask her to research. Everyone who works closely with me is required to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “Very well. Agent Fairfax, he’s all yours.”

  Brooke pushed off her perch on the sofa and stood in front of me. “Mr. O’Roark, I realize that it looks like I joined your trainer’s stable as a way to spy on you or your business interests.”

  “Does it look like that?” I asked.

  She stopped pacing and met my gaze. Her fingers stretched out to her sides, a sign of her discomfort. She rotated her shoulders back. “I’d like to continue to work for you. For Aidan. Riding horses.”

  I hadn’t seen that coming. I lifted both brows and narrowed my eyes. “You want me to allow an FBI agent to ride my thoroughbreds? Some of which are worth upwards of a million dollars?”

  Her jaw set, and she curled her fingers into fists as if ready for a fight. “I am a proficient exercise rider, and Mr. Gallagher would be lucky to have me. If you’re not comfortable having me on top of your horses, then I am not above starting in a different position. I can muck stalls, groom, or walk the horses.”

  “Why do you want to work in my stables?” I asked.

  Brooke looked at Agent Donaldson, then back at me. Something told me that these two didn’t like each other much. Finally, she sighed. “Look, we have certain intelligence that suggests—”

  “Agent Fairfax,” Agent Donaldson warned.

  Agent Salazar took a step forward. “What my colleagues are trying to say is that we are investigating several angles to the recent deaths of Melissa Centers and Jay DeBeers. We need access to information that might come up at the track.”

  “Track workers and stable employees hear things, and they like to repeat gossip,” Brooke added. “We believe that gossip could turn into useful leads.”

  As much as I was enjoying making Mike Donaldson—whom I didn’t like—squirm, I didn’t like seeing Brooke tied up in a knot. So I put them all at ease. “I will speak with Aidan,” I said directly to Brooke. “You will be welcomed back to the track for morning training starting tomorrow. You’re one of the best exercise riders we’ve had in a while, so come prepared to ride.”

  Brooke nodded. I stood. “Is that all, gentlemen? Agent Fairfax?” I didn’t miss how she winced at the formality of the title I gave her.

  “Thank you, Mr. O’Roark, for your cooperation,” Agent Donaldson said. He shook my hand.

  “Yes, thank you,” Brooke echoed. When she held out her hand, I took it. It was ice cold, and I had to force myself to let go.

  “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon,” I said to the room, but I was really only speaking to Brooke.

  The evening couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 14

  I pulled over on the side of the narrow road just short of Declan’s main gate. I wiped my hands on my jeans, then pulled down the vanity mirror and checked my makeup.

  What must this man think of me? I infiltrated his training stable under false pretenses. I hid who I was. I went against his trainer and led him to fire his jockey—which turned out to be a good thing, but I was still way out of line. And now, I was asking him to let me work for him when he knew I was working with the FBI, partly to investigate him and his company.

  My phone rang. I grabbed it and looked at the caller ID. Declan.

  “Hello.”

  “Good evening, Miss Fairfax. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because I know you’re sitting on the side of the road, fretting. Pull in, Brooke.” The phone went silent.

  I leaned my head down and looked out my window at the row of plank fencing and at the trees between me and the fence for any sign of surveillance cameras. With a shake of my head, I shifted my car into gear and turned into Shaughnessy Farm. The gate opened automatically when I pulled up, and there was no one at the entrance like on the night of the party.

  After parking in the turnaround in front of the house, I stared at the front door for several seconds before turning off the ignition. While something about the mysterious man inside the mansion pulled at something deep inside me, warning bells sounded anytime I got close.

  “It’s now or never, Fairfax.” It was only dinner and a chat. And I did need to talk to him. I needed him to understand why it was so important to keep my identity as an FBI analyst a secret.

  I climbed out of the car, walked to the front door, and before I could change my mind, raised my hand to knock.

  Before my knuckles even touched the wood, the door opened, and Declan stood there in jeans, a thin V-neck sweater, and bare feet. He was oozing sex appeal, which didn’t help the growing knot of tension in my gut.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  I glanced down at my attire: boot cut jeans to cover my ankle holster and a silk blouse unbuttoned enough to show the top edge of a lace camisole.

  He reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling me inside. “You’ve analyzed this long enough. It’s just dinner and conversation.” He didn’t stop tugging me along until we’d glided through the foyer, the large living space, and out the back doors onto the patio.

  I smelled something cooking and saw smoke coming from the stainless steel grill. “When you said you were going to cook, you meant…”

  He smiled. “That I was going to cook. Well, grill. I hope you like shrimp. If not, there are enough vegetables here to feed a small village. And I have pasta and a salad inside. And for dessert—” He stopped talking and studied my expression. “What?”

  “It’s just… I didn’t expect….”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. How about a glass of wine?”

  I looked at the glass of red sitting beside the grill. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable. It’s a nice night. I thought we could eat out here.” He disappeared inside, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

  I walked toward the pool, tucked into immaculate landscaping. Now, in daylight hours, I could see the view Declan had spoken of at the party. The land stretched as far back as I could see. A group of horses ran together in a field directly behind the house, and in an adjoining field, a single colt played under a mare’s watchful eye. Declan had been right—this view was incredible.

  I didn’t notice his return until he sidled up beside me and held out a glass. I took it and, out of habit, brought it to my nose and breathed in the scent. Cherry, with a tiny hint of chocolate. I took a sip, letting the dark alcohol promise a bit of relief from the nerves that had me on edge.

  “Does the lady approve?” Declan asked.

  “It’s very good. I had a feeling you’d have excellent taste in wine.”

  “I have excellent taste in everything.” Humor danced in his eyes, and I was sure there was some joke hidden in his words that I didn’t quite understand—or maybe I didn’t want to understand.

  “Let’s sit.” He pulled out a chair for me at a teak dining table, exquisitely set with rustic stoneware, silverware, and linen napkins. Two miniature flowerpots with summer flowers decorated the table, and candles flickered under the shade of an oversized canvas umbrella.

  I got lost in the flames of the burning candles. “This is a date,” I mumbled softly to myself, realizing for the first time what an intimate setting his back patio was. No matter how hard I tried to prevent it, my pulse picked up speed.

  I replayed Ty’s words over and over in my head. You will meet someone who will want to take care of you.

  Declan looked up at me when he saw that I had stopped. My eyes darted up to meet his questioning gaze. Realization flitted across his features, and his smile faltered.

&nb
sp; After setting his glass of wine on the table, he closed the distance between us and put his hands on my arms. “This is just me being nice. Nothing more.” His fingers drifted down my arms and slid into my empty hands. “How about we pretend this is an interrogation. You can question me about anything you wish. Ignore all this.” He dropped one hand and pointed to the table and then gestured wider to the beautiful property. “You’re just here to get information related to your case. To do your job.”

  He was right about that. I had come to get information from him. To talk to him about how he could help me investigate the threat against the governor. That was all. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting some of the tension go from my shoulders. “I don’t usually hold hands with the people I interrogate.”

  Declan’s lips curled into an easy grin. He looked down at our linked fingers and back up. Wordlessly, he dropped my hand and backed up. I followed and took the seat he offered, setting my wine in front of me.

  “I must look like the weakest FBI agent you’ve ever seen,” I said.

  He took the seat directly beside me, and his knee bumped against mine, which didn’t help to calm my nerves.

  Just do the job, I told myself.

  After taking a drink of wine, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I saw you in action this morning. If you hadn’t been trying to conceal the fact that you were an FBI agent, you would have had complete control of the scene. I saw the way you handled the first police officers on the scene, and I witnessed how you stood up to Agent Donaldson. I figure you and he were on equal levels when you were at the Bureau, or he was under you. Either way, you were not about to take orders from him.” He dropped his hands to his lap. “So, no, I don’t see you as weak. Far from it. What I see is someone who went through something that changed her life. Whatever that something was made you feel it was necessary to leave the Bureau, and therefore your life’s work. But what is happening to the governor has brought you back into the game, of sorts.”