33
They dressed in a rush then Mags sat back at the computer scouring the Prime Minister’s official site for the weasel’s picture, his name, and business relation to the head of state. Law sat beside her studying the pages she clicked and scrolled through, offering bites of maple-syrup-covered waffle and fried chicken. Despite how her stomach grumbled its appreciation, she couldn’t taste the food she chewed and swallowed to appease the insistent man.
The same sharp knock from earlier made her heart leap. Law left her and answered the door with gun in hand. She glanced at Khani Slaughter only long enough to toss her a nod of hello before finding the events gallery and scrolling through a myriad of faces. The pictures ran the gambit from summits to formal meetings to full out galas. People shook hands. Patted shoulders. Smiled widely. Some wore finery. In other pictures, business dress was the call. Luckily, each formal picture where people stood in rigid lines in succession of shortest to tallest and skinniest to fattest came with its own legend stacked neatly beneath.
The bed dipped on her left and she canted her head to Khani. The sharp woman wore head to toe black, from her hair to her trim fitted pantsuit, with the exception of her moss-green eye shadow, orangish-red lip stain, and similarly colored stiletto sling-backs. The color popped her off the strictly business page. That, and something in her storm-clouded eyes said she was much more than a businesswoman. She already bore witness to her calm under pressure and skill with a needle and thread.
Magdalena thought Khani had such a pitifully tiny list of things she couldn’t do that her can-do list overshadowed it by miles and miles. Proving her right, the raven haired beauty pulled a laptop from her case and ticked her fingers across the keys with speed and accuracy rivaling her own.
“Maybe I can help,” Khani offered.
“I’m scrolling through a million pictures looking for the guy. He has dark hair, is tall and rail thin. He looks like the human version of a weasel.”
“Like the long rodent?” Her upper lip curled.
“It’s carnivorous. Non-rodent, but you’ve got the jest.”
Law sat on her right, continuing to feed her, while Khani quickly maneuvered to the site and discovered just how many pictures they had to click through. She groaned.
“Screw this.” Khani handed her a piece of paper and a pen. “Write down the station you saw the guy on and when.”
She wrote the info and handed it to Khani. “What good will it do?”
“Lots of people owe me favors. I’ll collect a few,” Law’s friend said.
“I suppose I owe you a few already.”
Khani looked past her at Law and smiled. “Nah, family doesn’t count.”
“But I’m not your family,” Mags said.
“Not yet,” Khani sing-songed.
When Law stuffed his cock inside her, damn near to her throat, and talked shamelessly about all the naughty things he wanted to do to her or described what he did to her, Magdalena hadn’t blushed a bit. But heat crept up her neck and over her face at Khani’s words. Though she could see him out of the corner of her eye she didn’t dare look at Law, afraid to see the same blush across his cheeks, or worse, horror.
Mags trained her eyes on the computer screen and sifted through the pictures. Whether it was a waste of time or not, with the type of power and technology Khani had at her disposal, she needed something besides her ripped lover to keep her gaze and mind busy. Khani stood and paced while barking orders into her phone. Magdalena clicked and scrolled until her hand, wrist, and forearm cramped then did it some more.
“We’ll have the footage within the half-hour,” Khani said. “Then we can run facial recognition on him. If the guy does work for anyone in the Cabinet, his information will be in the system.”
“Then I’ll go pay him a visit.” Law’s voice hinted at a smile on his lips, but Mags didn’t look.
“I don’t think we’ll need the footage.”
She stared into the black, beady eyes of the man who’d assaulted Willow. In the picture his hair sat neatly quaffed atop his head, not slicked back in the greasy rendition it had been at her flat. He smiled brightly at an attractive young woman, clutching a stack of books. Magdalena’s heart churned, wondering what he’d done to that poor girl, what he’d done to other unassuming women.
Law’s hand settled over hers, stalling her quakes. “I’ll get him. Don’t worry.”
Khani sat beside them and hunched toward the screen. “He looks like a bastard and a weasel. Click on the enlargement.” She did and they all leaned closer to the screen. “That’s the Minister of State for Schools, Livingston Hues, beside him.”
Magdalena’s breath caught.
“What?” Law asked.
“The banner in the far left-hand corner. The Council for Higher Education.”
Law cussed and Khani’s fingers worked her computer like Elton John did the piano.
Mags took her hand back to join in the search. She didn’t know what Khani sought, but she went straight to the Council’s website and read aloud. “The Council for Higher Education. An international non-profit organization dedicated to fulfilling higher education needs for the less privileged, connecting US and UK foreign exchange programs at the college level, and fostering the non-traditional student’s needs through low-cost childcare and work-study programs.
“Director: Livingston Hues. Co-Director: Haltman Weaver. That fucking prick.”
His I’m a wonderful guy smile shined below his title.
Khani leaned around her again. “You can keep her. She’s hot, smart, and she cusses like me. What’s not to like?”
“Focus, Khani.” Law shook his head, but Mags caught the curve of his mouth.
“Yeah, work your magic.” Mags agreed and pointed at the two men. “We need to know everything there is to know about this organization. I have a puke-worthy feeling that this has everything to do with what happened to Willow.”
“Before he knew I was there, this guy asked Willow if someone else had told her he gets every part of her. Weaver said, he. It could be Hues.”
“It could be any one of a million people,” Law interjected. “But this is a great place to start digging.”
“I’m in their financials now,” Khani said.
“How did you—”
Law quieted her question with another bite of waffle. She wouldn’t get an answer anyway, so she opened for him. For the first time since Khani had made her red as a blood rose, Magdalena looked into Law’s vibrant eyes. He heated her with a gaze that saw right through to her wild thoughts about one day becoming part of his family. Coming home from a hard day’s work or welcoming him home from a long day’s whatever the hell he did. Snuggling up to him every, or most nights, for sleep. Cuddling up to him in the mornings for a little pre-dawn hot and hard.
“I want that, you know.” Law said with a wink.
Magdalena’s heart shimmied and shook inside her chest, but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if he was talking about what she was thinking about. Khani saved her with an exaggerated cough.
“Who needs to focus?” Khani slanted her head at them both. “Oh, give me some of that. The chicken.” She nodded with rounded eyes.
“I’m the muscle behind this mission.” Law shrugged.
Both of the women nearly choked on their tongues. “And the muscle happens to have a lovely brain. So, how about we put it to use?” Mags said.
With the three of them working it took five hours and lunch, but they connected The Council for Higher Education with three offshore accounts. Twelve prominent colleges had signed contracts with the company. Its donor roster read like the roster for a top tier multi-government summit. Hundreds of millions in illegal donations funneled through the books with only an easily breakable facade of actual donations or good achieved by the group.
“So, we still don’t know what all this has to do with Willow and her father.” Magdalena paced as she reiterated the obvious.
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“No, but we know who has the answers,” Khani said.
“And you know just the person to get them out of him,” Law added.
34
“You’re not going without me,” Magdalena shot back. “This is my mess and I intend to see it through.”
Law’s thickly stubbled jaw flexed as he shook his head. “It’s not your mess. It’s Weaver’s mess and I am fully prepared to make him a weeping, bloody mess in order to get the answers I want.” He stepped toward her and brushed his fingertips over her bare arm. “You’ve already seen too much. You already know too much about what we do.
“For Christ’s sake, tart, you’ve already seen me kill four…no, fuck, five men. I won’t expose you to any more ugliness. You deserve beauty and happiness. So does the lady you’re staying with.”
Magdalena turned to Khani who gave a wane smile and shrugged. Fear rattled inside her chest like an old-world, chain-shaking ghost. It irritated her battle worn heart and set her stomach on perma-queazy.
“If you leave me here, I’ll go insane,” she promised.
“Oh, come on. Slaughter isn’t that bad,” Law crooned.
Magdalena filed her gaze to a point and he stepped closer, planting a kiss on her forehead. “You worried about me, tart?”
“What if…you need help,” she said in a pitifully wet voice.
“He won’t be alone,” Khani offered in cool dispassion.
That earned her a head tilt from Law. “Besides your snipers, everybody is on assignment.”
“Incorrect,” Khani said.
“Oh, come on.” A burst of heat radiated from the thick chest nearly touching her own. “He’s shot, stupid, and a son-of-a-bitch.”
“Word from the old guard is, Street is about as hot-headed and reckless as you and Baine were when you started. He’s anything but stupid. The bloke tested off the charts. So, he’s probably smarter than the three of us combined. Sure, he needs to be reigned in, which is why I’m sending him out with a grandpa like you. As to the son-of-a-bitch, there are many bitches in this world. Myself included.”
Magdalena didn’t get all the nuances of Khani’s address, but Law did. He exhaled in a rush. His wickedly warm breath blew over her breasts, turning her nipples to shameless peaks. “Are you happy now? I have to baby-sit a James Bond Einstein Casanova.”
“Don’t break a hip,” she teased.
Before she could move he placed both hands on her cheeks, wrapped his fingers around her nape, and pulled her to his mouth. His lips bombarded hers with firm strokes, slanting over her slackened chops from every angle. With an artful maneuver he opened her mouth with his own and slipped his tongue inside, sliding it against hers with instinctual perfection. He broke the kiss as quickly as he’d started it.
“I might. With you. When this is done,” he growled. Law touched a kiss to the end of her nose, turned around, and left her in muted fury.
Khani allowed her to brood for a handful of minutes, pacing like the caged animal she was, but too soon she chimed in. “It’ll help if we’re productive while he’s gone. And wearing a trench into the carpet isn’t time well spent. So, how about we brainstorm while you patrol?” Mags nodded her concession. “Excellent. We can try and piece together the financials a little further and form a clearer picture of the power flow through the shell company. We can also—”
“Can you run your facial recognition on this girl?” Magdalena scrambled to the computer and clicked on the second of twenty windows opened on her screen. Up popped the picture of Weaver with the young co-ed.
“Sure, but why?”
“Look at the date stamp. This picture was taken close to the company’s inception, four years ago.” Magdalena clicked on the next few windows. “She’s in several pictures at different events, like she was the face of the company. Their spokesperson. She knows something. I’ll bet my Lula polka-dot Sophia Websters on it.”
“What size do you wear?”
“A three.”
The twinkle in Khani’s eyes dulled and she pursed her lips. “I wear a seven, tiny toes.” She straightened the leg crossed over her other and preened her sizable shoe for Mags.
“I’ll buy you a pair. Please, just look her up. I can’t stay here and do Internet searches while Law is out there risking…everything.”
“You win. Only because I hate waiting around too. More than you’ll ever know.”
They purred to a stop in front of a small country cottage thirty-five minutes from the hotel nearly that many minutes later. It hadn’t taken Khani long to run the facial diagnostic and locate Jessica Watts.
“Let me handle this, okay?” Khani’s voice hovered in that non-emotional tone of authority.
“Not a chance. You order trained killers around for a living and intimidate the hell out of us common folk. Did you see the way the man at the petrol station eased off? You’ll scare this women into her shell before you open your mouth.”
Something passed over Khani’s face that made Magdalena’s stomach ache. Maybe Khani was a hard ass, but it didn’t mean she didn’t have feelings all the same. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You’re right. There’s always a curve with civilians, and you’re a journalist. This is your area of expertise. So, have at it.”
“Thank you for not calling me a bitch…or a reporter.”
They shared a small giggle before exiting the car and walking up the pea-gravel path. Mags knocked on the paint-chipped front door and stepped back by Khani, hoping she exuded enough warmth with her smile to assure whomever answered the door. Khani leaned in and whispered.
“A small kid lives here too.”
“How you know?”
“Wind chimes.” Khani’s head canted toward a line of hand-painted sticks hanging lengthwise tied to a much longer stick.
Mags nodded. Only a parent would be proud enough to hang the precious monstrosity nearly front and center on the house. Finally the door opened. A shrunken old woman with a shock of white hair stepped forward.
“Can I help you?” The older woman sized them up with obvious rakes of her blue eyes.
“I hope so. My name is Magdalena Wells. I’m looking for Jessica Watts. She and I were both members of Sigma Tau Delta.”
“Well, miss, I don’t know what that is,” the old lady said.
“I’m sorry. It’s an academic honor society,” Mags offered.
“Oh, well, come on in and don’t mind the mess.”
When they stepped through the door Magdalena looked for the mess, as anyone would do when told not to do something, but found none. A meager and tidy farmhouse stretched before them. Wood planks hung a few feet above their heads and stone floors sat beneath their feet. Colorful rugs added comfort to the hard space and the light blue walls brightened it too.
“Call me Grams,” she said, directing them toward a well-worn sofa in den big enough for a flea circus. “Take a seat. I’ll get Jess and bring some tea.”
The lady walked toward the back of the house and, from the sound, opened an exterior door and hollered. “Jess. Company.” The door shut and the house shuddered. Mags cut her gaze at her partner in crime and found a smirk on her face.
“In with Grams. Nice work,” Khani praised.
They listened to Grams skirting about the kitchen, rifling through cabinets, turning on the gas stove, clinking ceramic together. After a weighted minute the back door opened and closed again with the same rattle of the ancient frame. A woman stepped into the room like she approached a firing squad, her steps hesitant and threatening retreat at any sudden move.
Magdalena smiled, but kept quiet, giving Jessica time to settle. But she didn’t take a seat. Her sandy-blonde hair hung in a loose braid down her back. Wisps had fallen from the intricate working and danced at her strained neck. Others clung to her dewy brow. Jessica held her breath for several beats while she eyed them with wary sapphire blue eyes that went wide perusing Khani, but softened a bit when they studied Mags. Jessica’s gaze dart
ed toward the kitchen and her back straightened.
“What do you want?” Her whispered voice held a steady tone.
“We’d like to talk a bit about The Council for Higher Education.” Mags matched her quiet-yet-assertive inflection then watched the color drain from Jessica’s rosy cheeks.
“Are you…police?”
“No,” Mags said.
“Reporters?”
“No,” Mags answered honestly. She was a damned journalist.
“You’re with them,” Jessica said in a squeak.
“Absolutely not.” Mags shook her head. “My best friend got involved with them somehow and I need information, so I can help her.”
Jessica’s braided tail thrashed back and forth at her denial. Tears streamed down her cheek. The back door opened wide enough it smacked into the wall. Jessica gasped a moment before the speedy patter of small feet rolled across the floor like thunder.
“Mummmmy! You didn’t find me forever. I don’t wanna play hide and seek any more. I’m so hot. Can I have a drink?” The little boy spouted all the way through the house until his arms wrapped around Jessica’s shorts-covered thighs, hugging her with squint eyed abandon.
Magdalena’s heart broke, just a little, at the bond she so desperately missed. No one could hug you like your mum could. Not even Law, though his hugs spun a magic all their own. Unlike his mother, the little boy’s hair shimmered almost purple in the streaming light. His dark locks cropped above his ears.
“Dylan,” Jessica whispered, “where are your shoes?”
“I planted them in the garden. Tommy said they would grow a stinky tree.” His tiny shoulders shrugged before his gaze finally caught on her and Khani. He gripped Jessica’s legs with his pudgy hands and hid his face.
“Hi, Dylan. I’m Magdalena, but you can call me Mags. And this is Khani.” She pointed.
“Wow, she’s tall, and you’re little like me,” Dylan said.
His mother scolded him and sent him to Grams for a drink, but Mags chuckled at the kid’s unreserved expressions. To her surprise, Khani laughed too.
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