Ace in the Hole

by Ava Drake

  Which, of course, would never happen. Stone was so busy staying in perpetual motion, running from whatever demons dogged his heels, that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—slow down long enough to have a real relationship, let alone a permanent one. Christian might be a fool for love, as it turned out, but he was no dummy when it came to reading people. And he was not wrong in his assessment of Stone Jackson.

  The message light on the phone was blinking, and Christian moved over to it, hoping against hope it was Jack calling to tell them he’d be back shortly. Or at least to check in and let them know he was alive. The bastard.

  “Good evening, Mr. Brandeis. This is the Miami Morning Show calling. We were wondering if there’s time in your senator’s schedule for a live, on-camera interview tomorrow morning.”

  “This is the Miami Enquirer. We’d like a quote from the senator on this evening’s incident. He’s being touted as a hero for protecting his attacker.”

  “This is the Tampa Examiner. Does Senator Lacey have a comment on the attack against him earlier?”

  The next half-dozen messages were more of the same. Nothing from Jack, though. He watched through the open bedroom door as Stone stripped off the senator’s suit. The jerk was doing that on purpose to tantalize him. And it was working.

  He picked up the TV remote and pointed it at the television without taking his gaze off Stone, who was kicking off Jack’s boots and peeling out of the pants. Damn, that man was built like a rock. He wasn’t thick, but he was hard. Everywhere.

  “—visiting senator and possible presidential hopeful defends himself against an attack and then protects his assailant from police in this dramatic footage from tonight’s Latin Chamber of Commerce event….”

  Oh. Shit. He’d really, really hoped the media wouldn’t pick up on the incident, but he knew better. A senator protecting his assailant from the police was sound-bite gold.

  “Hey! That’s me on the news,” Stone exclaimed from the doorway. “Cool!”

  Christian actually felt the blood draining from his face as he prayed that the footage would be of poor quality and not show Stone’s face too clearly. “People who know Jack are going to see this.”

  His prayer wasn’t answered. As clear as day, Stone took down that kid and then protected him from the police.

  Stone murmured, “Dude, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should sit down.”

  Christian made his way over to the sofa. Numb, he switched channels. Of course. All the local news outlets had picked up the story. He said weakly, “Please, God, let the national outlets not have picked it up.”

  “Let’s see.” Stone flopped on the sofa beside him, lifted the remote out of his paralyzed fingers, and turned to one of the all-news channels.

  They watched in silence for long enough to be certain they’d dodged that bullet. For now, at least. Oh Lord. This was a disaster.

  “The footage isn’t that high quality, Christian. And I really do look like Jack.”

  “Problem is Jack would never, ever defend himself, in the first place, or turn around and show compassion for his attacker in the second place.”

  “Who else but his immediate staff knows that, though?”

  “His wife. A few hunting buddies. Fortunately he’s got too big of an ego to maintain sincere friendships.”

  “Well, he defends himself and shows compassion now. Let the media make of it what they will.”

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to let the media form its own opinions?” Christian mumbled, thinking a mile a minute. Of course they would have to turn down the interview requests. No way could Stone pass as Jack in a close-up television setting. But they would have to spin the refusals in such a way that the press didn’t take offense and go for Jack/Stone’s jugular. As long as this thing stayed local, it shouldn’t be that hard to contain.

  As if on cue, the phone rang. Christian picked it up warily. It was a major television affiliate this time. Crap. It was going to go national. He got off the phone with a noncommittal comment about the senator being shaken by the incident, heavily booked, and promised to get back to the production assistant in the morning with a statement from Jack.

  He’d no sooner set the receiver down than the phone rang again. He glared across the room at Stone. “What the hell am I supposed to do about this?”

  “Draft a press release saying that the senator does not wish to benefit politically from a young man’s mental illness. I’m declining all interview requests regarding the incident at the Chamber of Commerce event out of respect for the privacy of the family of the victim.”

  “But you’re the victim.”

  “Say it the way I did. The public won’t miss the message. And thank the Miami police for their professionalism and restraint. Might as well give those guys some good press for a change. Poor bastards don’t get much love, and they’ve got a rough job.”

  It wasn’t a bad way to spin it.

  Christian said, “You’ve got a charity fund-raiser tomorrow night. The press is going to climb all over you. I’ll call the event organizers in the morning and warn them to have extra security in place. Tucker can figure out how to sneak you in the back entrance. We’ll have to keep your exposure minimal and dodge the press to the best of our ability.”

  “I have faith in you. It’ll work out okay.”

  Christian was too wired to sit any longer and moved over to the desk. “Let me print out your remarks for tomorrow so you can practice them. I’ll make sure the press knows you’re not taking questions tomorrow, and you’re not talking about today’s incident—”

  A hand touched his shoulder, and he spun, startled.

  “Go take a shower. Relax. You’ve got tomorrow wired, and I know what to do. Today was a big day. Recover from it and worry about tomorrow in the morning.”

  His brain heard the sense in Stone’s advice; however, his panic was such that he doubted any relaxation was possible.

  But Stone herded him into the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind him. And it was nice.

  Okay, weird. Christian was the one who took care of everyone else, not the other way around. He stripped and stood under a hot shower for a long time, his brain flatly refusing to function. He got out, wrapped a towel around his hips, and padded into the living room.

  Stone looked up from a copy of tomorrow’s speech and smirked. “Terry cloth is a good look on you.”

  He vogued until the towel began to slip and he snatched at it to hold it up.

  “Tease,” Stone complained. “Go to bed before I can’t restrain myself any longer.”

  He frowned. He hadn’t been kidding when he said sex couldn’t happen again between them. He was only so strong, and he couldn’t risk an addiction to Stone that derailed his entire life.

  Still. Stone unable to keep his hands to himself? Christian rather liked the sound of that. After all, he knew the feeling. He almost reversed his personal edict to himself that there would be no more hanky-panky between them.

  No! Be strong! Swearing at his own stupidly overdeveloped sense of responsibility, he beat a tactical retreat from the living room and the temptation Stone represented.

  Stone might accuse him of being the great people reader, but the guy wasn’t doing a half-bad job himself tonight. He was beat after today’s wild emotional swings. A press release could actually wait until first thing in the morning. Media outlets wouldn’t expect one until then anyway.

  By the time he reached his bed in the suite’s second bedroom, he was all but stumbling with exhaustion. Everything from the past few days—hell, the past few decades—seemed to be catching up with him all at once. He fell into bed and passed out, asleep practically before he got horizontal.

  Sometime in the thick darkness of the wee hours, he felt the mattress shift. Warm arms enveloped him, and he drifted toward sleep again, safe in their embrace. Very faintly in the back of his mind, a little voice suggested that something was wrong with how right those arms felt, but he was too uncon
scious to sort it out and went back to sleep.

  He woke abruptly, panicked for no apparent reason. And then it dawned on him that he was not alone in his bed. Crap! He’d promised himself he would swear off Stone after yesterday’s erotic encounter in the SUV. He leaped out of bed like the pillows were on fire.

  “What’s wrong?” Stone bit out tersely, sitting up sharply.

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep. I’ve got to put out a quick press release.”

  Stone frowned but did lie back down. Thank God. Christian didn’t have the energy to spare for a fight just yet. First he had a few crises to manage. Then maybe there could be fighting.

  Four more days. He had to get through today’s charity benefit, tomorrow’s golf tournament, and the big casino night on Saturday. And then Jack Lacey could spend the next month floating around the Caribbean screwing his girlfriend and no one would be the wiser. Please, God, let Jack’s paranoia about paparazzi protect him from discovery in the meantime.

  Christian drafted the press release quickly and sent it out, and then he headed for the shower. By the time he emerged, he’d developed a long to-do list for himself.

  Stone observed him with hawklike intensity but seemed content to leave him alone this morning to work. Or at least pretend to work. It was impossible to concentrate with those golden hazel eyes registering his every tiny movement. He felt like an antelope squarely in the sights of a hunting lion.

  He managed to scroll down through Jack’s e-mail, answered the easy requests, scheduled a few meetings for when they got back to Washington and added them to Jack’s calendar, and stored the other messages in a file for the junior staffers back in DC to deal with later this week.

  And then he opened an innocuous-looking message titled simply, “For Senator Jack Lacey—Urgent.”

  Your time is coming very soon, you worthless piece of shit. Settle your affairs and say good-bye, because I’m coming to send you to hell where you belong.

  It wasn’t signed. The sender’s e-mail said simply “unnamed sender.” Not helpful.

  He snatched up the phone and dialed Tucker. “Where are you, Travis?”

  “At the venue for tonight’s gala. This place is a nightmare—”

  “I need you to get back here right now,” he interrupted.

  “What’s wrong?” Tucker’s voice already was jumping as if the man was running while talking.

  “Stone’s safe. But Jack just got another death threat. And this one said specifically that he’s going to be attacked soon.”

  “Keep Stone in the room, and I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “Got it.” He hung up the phone anxiously.

  From the sofa across the suite, Stone said grimly, “And you didn’t think to tell me first that there’s another death threat?”

  “You heard at the same time I told Tucker.”

  “That’s not my point. You see something alarming, something that has to cause you significant stress, and you don’t tell me first?”

  “I followed protocol,” he said defensively. “Secure the principal and tell the bodyguard immediately.” Christian braced himself for an explosion out of Stone but instead got only a terse “Give me everything you’ve got on tonight’s benefit.”

  Christian handed over the hard-copy file and went to work downloading and printing out the rest. Stone turned his attention to the paperwork, but anger rolled off his muscular shoulders in palpable waves. What the hell did Stone want him to say?

  His mind was blown by what had transpired between them yesterday, and he needed some time to process it. And now was not the moment to have a huge fight with Stone over the fact that he’d meant it when he said they were over last night.

  The silent standoff grew more and more uncomfortable as Stone grew steadily more angry, and Christian was by turns defensive and irritable himself. The first priority was Stone’s safety, and that meant telling his chief of security immediately about any incoming threats. He’d done the right thing by calling Tucker first, dammit. At least they’d established that the two of them could have a knock-down-drag-out fight without ever uttering a single word aloud to each other. It was actually a rather impressive feat.

  Gradually Stone’s focus shifted to the papers he had spread out all over a table. He was poring over some sort of tourist map of downtown Miami when Tucker burst into the suite. Christian had never been so relieved to see the man.

  “What have you got, Tucker?”

  “Lemme see the e-mail.”

  While Christian pulled it up and turned his laptop for Tucker to see the short message, Stone reported tersely, “The tech experts at Wild Cards had no success tracing the sender of the e-mail. It was likely sent from an Internet café or a library and bounced off a bunch of servers to anonymize it. As for the message’s content, there’s nothing new except the addition of the attack coming soon. The Wild Cards’ profiler said only that now there’s a timetable in play. And you and I could have figured that out for ourselves. Talk to me about the venue.”

  “You’re not going to go through with the appearance, are you?” Tucker demanded.

  “We might as well catch ourselves a psychopath while we wait for Jack to get tired of Chesty.”

  Christian’s mouth opened and a protest danced on the tip of his tongue. Why in the name of God didn’t Stone value his life more than this? Why was he so damned willing to throw himself in front of a madman and roll the dice with death?

  Stone muttered, “Talk to me, Tucker.”

  The security chief moved over to the map and started jabbing at intersections and buildings, giving a rapid-fire description of the area around the large plaza where an evening charity auction and ball would be held under the stars.

  “The whole plaza will be blocked off for the night with police barricades here, here, here, and here. They’ll be manned by cops but should be considered porous.”

  Stone made a noise of disgust.

  Tucker continued, “At least ten high-rises are close, with a half dozen well within a thousand yards.”

  Stone grimaced and Christian asked, “What’s significant about a thousand yards?”

  “Any half-decent sniper with a semidecent weapon can kill a man at a thousand yards,” Stone replied.

  “Are we worried that the stalker is going to make a hit tonight? I thought you guys decided the casino night was the event the guy would target because of how high profile it will be.”

  “Given the latest communication, I think we have to consider every appearance that I—Jack—makes to be at high risk.”

  “And yet you’re going through with it. Look. Jack bailed on all of us. If he misses out on all the campaign donations and blows his chances for reelection, it’s no skin off my nose at this point. Although you may be prepared to sacrifice your life at the drop of hat, Stone, I am not willing to throw you to the wolves. I’m calling this thing right now. I’ll write up a press release that Jack has had to leave town unexpectedly and is bowing out—”

  “And what happens when this would-be killer shows up at your DC office and shoots the entire staff, including you? Or he shows up at Jack’s home and murders his wife and the dog too, just to make his point?” Stone asked grimly. “Hiding from nut jobs gives them a sense of control. They’re successfully manipulating their target. If we can draw this guy out into the open without Jack around to screw up our plans as only he can, it’s a win for everyone.”

  Christian reluctantly saw the logic. But he didn’t like it. Not one bit. And furthermore, his dislike of this plan to proceed on schedule had nothing to do with his feelings for Stone Jackson.

  God. Damn. It.

  STONE wasn’t fond of bulletproof vests. In the first place, they weren’t actually proof against a high-caliber round, and there was always a head shot to consider. Even if the Wild Cards’ guys didn’t believe this attacker was a pro, a shooter could still get lucky and nail the target in an unprotected part of the body. Bullet-resistant vests tended to give thei
r wearers a dangerous and potentially life-threatening sense of invincibility. Furthermore, they were hot and bulky, and they made his suits lie funny, no matter how good a tailor might be. But Tucker was having no part of him going out in public without one.

  Christian had opted to sit in the front seat of the SUV with Tucker en route to the gala tonight, and Stone didn’t know whether to be insulted, hurt, or amused. He settled on being a little of all three. He’d really shaken up Christian yesterday. He didn’t for a minute think Christian was serious about the two of them never making love again. He’d just overwhelmed the guy a little. Good. Christian had been badly in need of a shock. He was stuck in the mother of all ruts and was too awesome a human being to languish in the bottom of it forever.

  His mind drifted to the insane pleasure they’d shared, and his fly started to bulge alarmingly. Swearing, he pulled out the dry-as-dust speech and determinedly practiced saying it in Jake’s Texas accent. Thankfully it did the trick, and he would be able to walk upright when they arrived at the venue.

  The SUV pulled to a stop, and the privacy panel slid down. “All right, then, sir. Good luck,” Tucker announced.

  Stone responded, “Christian, I want you to stay away from me at the gala tonight.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to throw yourself at women in the name of impersonating Jack—” Christian started.

  “No, that’s not it. In the first place, Jack has a history of making his guys stay away from him. But more importantly, I don’t want you hit by a stray bullet in case our stalker chooses tonight to find out how lousy a shot he is.”

  “Oh.” The syllable thudded like lead between them. Christian swore quietly and got out of the SUV without waiting for Jack. Grimly, Stone watched him walk away.

  Jesus, his job sucked sometimes.

  And then he got to climb out of the SUV, get mobbed by sycophants, and play United States senator for the next hour. Suddenly being a plain old bodyguard who only risked death for a living didn’t seem quite so bad.