He gestured for her to lie down and he took over. It had been equally excruciating for him to listen to that hellish blind date but he couldn’t quite help but bust her chops a little bit for the part she’d played. “Can you do me a huge favor?” he asked, grinning as she groaned with pleasure while he rubbed away the torture of a night spent in high heels.
“Yeah? What?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows to meet his gaze.
“Can you, maybe, talk in that super sexy airhead voice you used with the super important Mr. Doakler? It kinda did something for me.”
“Eat me.”
“If you say so,” he said, ready to follow orders, but her dead glare stopped him. “Okay, so that was not a suggestion.”
“No, it was not.”
So it was back to business then. “What did you manage to get out of that, aside from an expensive dinner and an awkward goodbye kiss from the sounds of it.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. He slobbers like a Great Dane.” She rose and lifted her foot free from his hands, turning so he could unzip her dress. Scarlett let the dress drop to the floor, completely oblivious to his reaction as she walked to the bathroom in nothing but a black thong with a matching push-up bra. “I have to pee. Give me a minute and I’ll debrief you on my findings.”
The door closed and Xander stared down at his instant erection. Yeah, calm down, buddy. She’s not in the mood. More’s the pity. His back twinged and he reached for his pill bottle right as Scarlett emerged. Her gaze narrowed but she didn’t say anything.
But he felt the guilt anyway. “As soon as my name is clear, I’m kicking these things,” he said.
“Let’s focus on the case,” she said, ignoring his promise. It bothered him that she didn’t give him at least a little hell. Was that a bad sign? Damn, but they didn’t have time for his paranoia, either. Besides, Scarlett was already moving on. “I think James knows more than he’s letting on about the secretary’s private life.”
“What makes you think that?”
“His body language.”
He couldn’t argue her hunch. Scarlett had always been sharp when it came to deciphering hidden clues and agendas. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know, but I think he might be more willing to share information if he had a visit from a certain unstable American hero who is pissed off at the world if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, goody. It’s my turn to take him on a date.”
“Just don’t let him kiss you. He’s terrible.”
Xander scowled, hating that the man had put his lips on Scarlett in any fashion. He wasn’t cut out for this spy shit, either. “When are we going?”
Just then Scarlett’s burner phone rang. She picked up on the first ring. It was Conrad. She hung up quickly and motioned with an expletive. “We have to go.”
“Damn FBI,” he growled, shouldering his duffel while Scarlett stuffed her dress and shoes into her bag, removing any sign that they were there. “Don’t they have better things to do than chase me down like a rabbit?”
“Someone is hungry for your head,” Scarlett reminded him as they booked it out of the room and headed under the cover of night to the car parked on the opposite side of the motel.
They climbed into the car and managed to get out of the area before the FBI showed up this time.
As much as he didn’t like the fact that Scarlett and Conrad had history, his intel was saving their asses.
They found another shithole motel, The Starlight, and checked in under false names, using cash as always.
The mint-green and mustard-yellow decor was enough to make an interior designer lose their lunch but it seemed clean enough and the bathroom had a tub and shower, which was a plus.
Scarlett dropped her bag and tested the bed, frowning when it barely budged. “This bed is going to be like sleeping on a plank.”
“The Japanese say that sleeping on a plank is good for your back,” he said but when he tested the bed himself he held back the grimace, adding with a chagrined tone, “But I’m not sure that applies to someone with a jacked-up back.”
Scarlett nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying. Sleeping on that piece of crap was going to aggravate his condition, which would only force him to medicate more, which was exactly what he didn’t want to do.
Especially now that Scarlett knew his dirty secret. Each time he popped a pill, he felt he was letting her down.
“I’ll push it as far as I can,” he said, trying to make some kind of effort to show that he meant what he said about quitting but Scarlett wasn’t interested in listening to his promises. “Are you tired?” he asked.
“Yes,” she admitted, quickly stripping and climbing into the bed, snuggling down into the blankets, then pausing to sniff at the comforter before announcing, “Smells like an old lady.”
“And by ‘old lady’ do you mean, sweet old granny who bakes cookies and pies and always smells like powdered sugar or the kind of old lady who shuffles along in her wheelchair and randomly spits at strangers?”
“The latter.”
“Wonderful.”
He stripped and climbed in beside Scarlett, hesitant to reach out to her. Sometimes Scarlett was approachable and other times she wasn’t. He waited to see if she scooted closer to him. When she remained where she was, staunchly on her own side, he sighed and rolled over.
There would be no cuddling tonight.
* * *
It was a long time before sleep found her, even though she was exhausted.
Watching Xander take his pills was a stark reality check each time she started to slip into the fantasy that there could be something real between them.
She’d even started thinking about future plans, if and when they managed to clear Xander’s name. One of them would have to find a different job. Conrad was always saying she had a job with the Bureau if she wanted, but she loved her work with Red Wolf and didn’t want to start over somewhere else.
It wasn’t fair to ask Xander to find something else, either.
But if they wanted to make things work...
Hell, that was the question, wasn’t it? What if Xander wasn’t interested in a relationship? Maybe she was jumping the gun. She didn’t even know if she wanted a relationship.
She just knew that she felt things for Xander—real feelings that she couldn’t ignore—which made his addiction all the more troubling.
She couldn’t be with a drug addict.
She just couldn’t.
In spite of her father’s penchant for spouting scripture when it was convenient, he had been a lousy addict with a mean streak and she swore she’d never fall for someone with the same problem.
One could argue Xander was nothing like her father but addiction changed people.
Each time she watched him pop that pill...she was reminded of her father and how much she loathed the man.
But they had bigger problems right now and that was their saving grace. Her heart actually hurt when she thought of walking away from Xander. There was no way she could deal with that when they had much bigger issues to solve.
Xander had rolled to his back and begun to snore. She smiled, recalling an old joke her bawdy grandmother used to tell.
Do you know why men snore when they’re on their back?
No, Nana, why?
Because their balls cover their butthole and create a vacuum!
Of course, at ten years old, she hadn’t understood the joke but her grandmother had always told inappropriate jokes that’d gone way over her head. She missed that chain-smoking, loud-laughing old broad, though.
She’d been the only one who had been able to keep Scarlett’s dad in line. When Nana died, that’s when things had gotten bad.
In so many ways.
She hated thinking about the past. Xander’s situation had
inadvertently brought up bad memories. It wasn’t Xander’s fault that she had a shitty childhood; but she was mad at him anyway for putting himself in this situation.
If he’d just trusted her enough to be honest, things would’ve been so different. She could’ve done more to protect him than Xander had done for himself. Hell, all Xander had done was mess things up worse.
She nudged Xander with her foot when his snore went up a notch and he snorted and rolled to his side. Scarlett had never enjoyed sharing a bed until Xander.
Another point that made it abundantly clear that her heart was involved on a level that made her want to run.
Yet running from Xander wasn’t an option because she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Not even when she should’ve earlier on.
Ahh, screw it. She scooted close and wrapped her arms around his solid body, inhaling the scent that was uniquely his. As if that were the magic element missing, her eyelids began to droop and within minutes, she was finally asleep.
Troubles, for the moment, forgotten.
Chapter 21
They decided to scope out Doakler’s house during the day while he was at work and then come back at night to do the interrogation.
“So we’ll follow the same plan as with Williams. You stay out of sight while I do the dirty work. No sense in blowing up your game if we don’t have to.”
Scarlett nodded. “He’s pretty soft. He should cave easily. Probably faster than the senator.”
Xander cracked his knuckles, ready to do this, but he was a little apprehensive of the outcome, too. “What happens if we’re right and the Secretary of Defense has something to do with McQuarry’s death? How do we prove it? He’s pretty high up the food chain.”
Scarlett shared his concern but she was in TL mode. “Focus on the objective,” she said. “We need to find out if Doakler knows anything. If something turns up, we’ll move to the next objective. One step at a time.”
Xander nodded, breathing a little more easily knowing they had a plan. “All right, are you ready to do this?” he asked.
Scarlett gloved her hands and pulled her dark beanie over her bright red hair, her smile painted on. “More than ready.”
“You just want payback for that slobbery kiss he planted on you,” he teased as they climbed into the car.
“Don’t front. You want payback for that kiss, too.”
Ohhh, the woman knew him well. No sense in lying. He hated the idea of anyone touching Scarlett aside from him. Instead, he just gave her a cocky nod and left it at that. Their feelings for one another were an additional complication that they didn’t have time to confront. One crisis at a time.
They rolled up to Doakler’s neighborhood, cutting the engine a block away and parking in a dark alley away from the main road.
Doakler lived alone with his cat in an upscale neighborhood but nothing quite as fancy as the senator. The block was made of newer construction, an upwardly mobile subdivision filled with young families and middle-aged couples in the prime of their adulthood.
Xander pulled the black ski mask over his head and they made their way silently into the house, quickly bypassed the alarm system and found Doakler asleep in his bed, clutching a small ratty teddy bear.
Xander shared a look with Scarlett before she melted into the shadows and then scared the ever-loving shit out of the man by dragging him out of the bed and dropping him to the floor.
Doakler yelped like a kicked puppy, terrified as Xander hauled him to his feet and tossed him into the ornate chair in the corner. Tying him easily to the chair, Xander blindfolded him with a pair of Doakler’s own underwear and then once he knew Doakler couldn’t see, he removed the ski mask and motioned for Scarlett to join him.
“I have money...” Doakler pleaded, scared out of his mind. “I know important people!”
“I’m not interested in your money. I just want some information.”
“Information?” Doakler repeated, confused. “What kind of information?”
“The classified kind,” Xander answered, grinning when Doakler’s bottom lip began to tremble. “Word on the street is you’re an important man.”
“No, I’m no one. I—I—I’m just a glorified clerk. I push paperwork. I don’t know anything.”
“I think you’d be surprised what you know.”
Doakler shook his head. “I don’t understand... Who sent you? Oh my God, are you...Russian?”
“Do I sound Russian?” Xander asked dryly. “No, I’m not Russian, you idiot. I need answers and I think you’re going to give them to me.”
“I honestly don’t know anything about anything. I’m just a paper-pusher, a gopher. I get coffee and lunches and file papers... Truly, I don’t know anything of real value.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Jimmy,” Xander said, amused at how quickly the man lost the bravado he’d put on display for Scarlett’s benefit. “I think you know more than you realize. How about I make you a deal...”
“Anything,” Doakler promised with a fervent nod. “Whatever you want.”
“If you answer my questions like a good boy, I’ll leave all your parts exactly as I found them—attached to your body.”
Doakler gulped. “And if I can’t answer your questions?”
“Then I’ll have to take out my frustration on your fingers and toes and other extremities. You don’t want me to do that, do you?” Doakler shook his head. Xander smiled. “Good. Then let’s start.”
“But what if I don’t know what you’re asking?”
Xander answered in a dark tone, “Well, let’s just hope that you do.” Doakler swallowed and jerked a nod. Xander was surprised the man hadn’t pissed himself yet. “Okay, let’s start with something easy. How closely do you work with the Secretary of Defense, Mark Bettis?”
“I’m his clerk,” Doakler answered, licking his lips. “I prepare the paperwork, send emails, handle his social and business calendar.”
“So, is it safe to say you keep him organized?”
“Yeah. I guess so. Yes, that’s accurate.”
“Would you say that no one gets an audience with the secretary without your knowledge?”
Doakler bobbed a nod. “Y-yes.”
“Good, good. Okay, so being that you’re pretty much in charge of his comings and goings, it’s probably safe to say that you know quite a bit about his personal life.”
“I guess so.”
“Tell me what you know about Bettis.”
“What do you mean?”
Xander provided as an example, “His wife’s name, favorite golf course, foods he likes and dislikes, people he associates with socially... Those kinds of things.”
Doakler paused and Xander tapped the man’s knee with his gun to remind him that his patience had a limit. “H-his wife’s name is Janet, he doesn’t golf and he’s allergic to shellfish. I—I don’t know what you mean about people he associates with. P-please clarify.”
“Sure thing, buddy. What I mean is who’s he sleeping with aside from his wife?” Xander asked, putting it bluntly.
It was dark so Xander couldn’t see if the man had just paled but he was willing to bet Doakler had. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Jimmy, you have to ask yourself if protecting the secretary’s secret is worth your kneecaps. I mean, would the secretary protect your secrets with the same dedication? I don’t think so. All you have to do is tell me who he was sleeping with and then I’ll let you go.”
“I—I don’t know,” Doakler squeaked but Xander wasn’t buying. Xander moved the gun from Doakler’s knee to his groin, purposefully pushing the gun against his junk. Doakler yelped and tried to scoot away but he was tied tight. “Please! I want to have kids someday!”
“I understand, but I have to have answers. I can’t leave without them, so either you fess
up or I’m going to have to turn you from a rooster to a hen, my friend, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pissing in a bag.”
Now Doakler was sobbing. “Man, I don’t know. I don’t. I’m not lying. I swear to you. Please don’t shoot my penis!”
Maybe the man was as useless as he said. Xander looked to Scarlett who motioned for Xander to keep trying. A thought occurred to him. He returned to Doakler. “Okay, stop your crying. For God’s sake, you’re a man. Act like one.” He paused long enough for Doakler to stop blubbering, then said, “Okay, tell me who Bettis was rumored to be sleeping with.”
“Rumor? But...that’s just office gossip.”
“Let me be the judge of that. You know what they say, within every rumor lies a kernel of truth.”
Doakler shook his head, adamant. “No, the secretary is a good man.”
“Good men can make bad judgments,” Xander said with a small shrug. “Humor me. Tell me who Bettis was banging on the side, according to the water-cooler gossip.”
It was obvious Doakler hated even letting the words fall from his mouth but he answered, “When you hear it, you’ll know it’s a total lie.”
“Out with it.”
“An Oklahoma senator.”
Both Xander and Scarlett perked up, straightening as they held their breath. “Yeah? Which one? The dead one? McQuarry?”
Doakler shook his head. “No. Sheffton.”
Holy friggin’ shit.
Sheffton?
“Are you sure?”
“That’s the name that was tossed around but like I told you, it’s a total lie. For one, Bettis has been married for thirty years to the same woman—clearly not gay—and for two, Sheffton was only ever on the secretary’s calendar once.”
“When? Was it before or after Senator McQuarry was killed?”
Doakler paused to remember, then said, “Before. A month or so before.”
“And why was Sheffton visiting Bettis?”
“Sheffton came to voice his concerns over H.R. 720 but by the end of the meeting, he’d changed his mind and decided to support the bill.”
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