“I’m surprised it’s not busier here today.” Becca sat on the blanket. “On the weekends, this place is usually full of people. Maybe it’s too hot.”
He sure as hell was hot, but it wasn’t all due to the weather. His internal temperature had jumped ten degrees the moment he saw her walk toward him outside her town house. Even being inside the home with its central air conditioning hadn’t helped.
“You come here a lot?” If he kept them both talking, he might get through lunch without kissing her. But that was a big if.
When he accepted her invitation, he’d expected it to be a one-and-done kind of day. He’d see her, do a little catching up, and then they’d go their separate ways for another fifteen or twenty years. His thoughts had been deviating from the plan since he walked into her house. Exactly how far they’d deviate was still in the air, but tasting her lips at least once seemed like an excellent addition to the plan.
“Whenever I can. I like to run here. I find it more relaxing than running on the sidewalk or on the gym’s treadmill.”
His eyes traveled up from her lilac-painted toenails to the hem of her shorts, and an image of them in bed with her legs wrapped around him formed. “You were on the cross-country team in high school.” He didn’t know how but he remembered she’d run cross-country in the fall and played tennis in the spring.
Becca nodded, the same piece of mahogany-colored hair she’d been pushing behind her ear since she came downstairs falling free again. Before she could move it, he did.
“I was on the cross-country team at Georgetown too.” She handed him his sandwich before pulling out her own. “Working for the senator takes up most of my time during the week, but I like to come here and run on the weekends. At least until it gets too cold. Then I settle for the treadmill at the gym.”
She leaned forward, and her neckline dipped just enough to provide him with an excellent view of her cleavage. The mere sight had his blood going from simple simmer to full boil. When she sat up and readjusted her top, he mentally reached out, tugged it down again, and then closed his hands around her breasts. Since what his mind was telling him to do was out of the question, at least for the moment, he unwrapped his sandwich instead. A definite poor substitute for what his hands really wanted.
“What about you?” Becca asked. “Do you still do a lot of hiking? You used to go skiing a lot too.”
Except during football season, he’d spent many weekends hiking as a teenager. Sometimes he’d go with friends and other times he’d go alone. It’d been almost a year since he’d last gone. It’d been even longer since he’d strapped on a pair of skis.
“I hike when I can,” Connor answered. “Last time I skied I was at Harvard.” He’d skied more because his family enjoyed it and regularly took vacations to the best ski resorts in the country than because he’d loved the sport.
“I haven’t skied in ages myself. I loved it when I was younger, but for some reason, the last few times I went, I didn’t enjoy myself.” She licked a dab of mayo off her finger, and he wished she was using her tongue on him instead. “My last boyfriend enjoyed hiking, so we used to go a lot.”
Last boyfriend. He interpreted her statement to mean she wasn’t involved with anyone. He wasn’t looking for a woman in his life, but he wouldn’t refuse a few fun months with Becca either.
“Things between Tate and me ended not long after I moved down here to work for the senator. The distance made having any kind of relationship too difficult. So I guess it’s been about four years since I last hiked.” She grabbed a potato chip from the bag sitting between them. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
She popped the chip into her mouth and chewed before speaking again. “Actually, the first time I ever went hiking was with you. We went to Bear Mountain State Park in New York. Do you remember? It was so darn hot that day.”
Connor remembered. They’d hiked until they found an isolated spot with a superb view of the Hudson River. Then they’d stayed there, talking when they weren’t making out. He hadn’t been back to the park since.
“There are some decent hiking places not far from here,” Connor said. “If you’re interested, I’ll show you.”
“Sounds….” Becca paused and rubbed her arm, her eyes sweeping the area.
“Something wrong?” He dropped his sandwich on the paper it had come wrapped in.
“No, I don’t think so. But I suddenly got this feeling like someone’s watching me.”
Connor surveyed the area. Several yards away a family of four sat, enjoying a picnic. Across from them, a group of guys tossed around a Frisbee while at the same time subjecting Becca to a thorough visual inspection. Further away a bunch of kids played soccer while their parents cheered them on. Several joggers went by and looked Becca’s way as they passed. Then there was the punk on a bench, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt with a rock band’s name on the front, talking on his cell phone. Although the dude was definitely checking Becca out, he wasn’t raising any red flags in Connor’s head.
She cleared her throat and shrugged. “I’m probably just being paranoid.”
“No, you’re not. Half the guys in the park are looking at you and wishing they sat where I am.” And they’re fantasizing that you’re naked and in bed with them. “If I was in their shoes, I’d be looking at you too.” And having very similar fantasies.
Becca gave him a slight nudge in the arm and smiled. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. And to answer you, yes, I’m interested in doing some hiking.”
He picked his sandwich up again and watched a blonde chick sit on the punk’s lap. She might be a good ten years younger than Becca, but she couldn’t compete with her in the looks department. Of course, not many women could. “Before I leave, we can decide on a day and time.”
Chapter Three
Dale Fuller pulled his tie off and tossed it over a chair. He’d spent the majority of the day listening to old men bitch and whine. Unfortunately, the same old men were among the biggest contributors to his first campaign—and he needed them, or at least their money and influence, for his upcoming one. After turning the air conditioner down a few more degrees, he entered his bedroom and went straight to the framed picture hanging near the bed. If anyone else entered the room, they might admire it for a moment or two, but then they’d turn their attention to the fabulous view of the city the windows provided—exactly as he’d intended when he’d bought the condo and then had it redecorated.
He pushed the black-and-white picture aside, revealing the wall safe hidden behind it, and punched in the code. After removing the three burner phones from inside, he closed the safe and slid the picture back into place.
Dale first switched on the phone he’d been using to communicate with Rick, the private investigator he’d hired. Rick had been searching for a little over a week and still hadn’t turned up anything. He didn’t expect to get a different answer this afternoon either, but he’d call and check. When Rick again delivered nothing, Dale would fire him and fall back on plan B.
“Any updates?” he asked when Rick answered the phone.
“Afraid not, Congressman Fuller. She hasn’t been on social media, and we haven’t been able to track her cell. We tried watching the laboratory, but security outside threatened to call the cops if we didn’t leave.”
He could’ve told Rick that would happen if they lingered too long outside Lafayette Laboratory. Security there was tight. Even the employee parking lot required a special access card to enter, never mind the main entrance to the building.
“Like we discussed, I tried following her sister this week, hoping she’d meet up with your ex. Nothing,” Rick continued. “One of my associates tried watching her house, but there have been no signs of your ex there either. We did get a picture of a man who visited the sister over the weekend. If you want us to find out who he is, we can.”
Becca André was Kassidy’s stepsister, not her sister, but correcting Rick was a moot point. And he didn’t care who
Becca spent her free time with unless it was Kassidy Buchanan.
“Do you want me to keep looking?” Rick asked.
Wouldn’t you love it if I said yes? The private investigator wasn’t cheap, especially considering he hadn’t uncovered even a hint of where Kassidy was. “No. I think it’s time I accept she and my money are long gone and move on.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t find her,” Rick said, clear disappointment in his voice. Rick and his associates were well known for being both discreet and successful. Of course, most of the time they were following cheating spouses or snapping pictures of people trying to fake life-altering injuries for big paydays. They weren’t trying to track down individuals who didn’t want to be located.
“Me too.” Just not for the reasons you think.
Dale ended the call and pulled the battery from the cheap disposable phone. After removing the SIM card, he snapped the device in half and returned everything to the safe. Later he would dispose of the individual pieces at various places, but for now, the safe would be a good place to store them.
Reaching for the second one, he pressed the power button. The last messages he’d received from Kassidy had come almost three weeks ago. At the time, she’d promised she’d be in contact again soon, but she hadn’t called or messaged him since. Considering the timetable they were working with, he’d expected another message two weeks ago, which was why he’d hired Rick when Kassidy remained dark.
He didn’t expect to have any messages tonight, either. But before he gave Zane the go-ahead, he’d check because he considered using the guy a last resort.
Tonight, like the last dozen times he powered on the phone, there were no texts or voice messages waiting for him. “Damn it, Kassidy. Where the hell are you?” He switched off the device and tossed it back into the safe too.
Grabbing the last burner phone, he dropped his personal cell phone on the nightstand, left his condo, and headed for a popular coffee shop several blocks away. Using a burner phone meant the authorities wouldn’t be able to trace a specific phone number back to him. That was why he always used disposable devices for contacting the private investigator and Kassidy. While he’d rather there not be any record of his calls to Rick or Kassidy, he knew the police wouldn’t be looking into the calls they received and then searching for where the calls originated, so calling them from his condo was safe. There was no guarantee where Zane was concerned.
If the police went after Zane again for any one of his criminal activities, they’d search everything from the thug’s bank accounts to his phone records. From there it would be easy for them to determine what numbers had called Zane and then approximate where the phone had been at the time of the call or text message. Dale didn’t want them tracing the location back to his condo. In the past, he could’ve said it was a simple conversation between attorney and client. He had been the lead defense attorney during Zane’s last trial. However, as a congressman, he was no longer practicing law, so the excuse wouldn’t hold up and the police would dig further. If that happened, there was plenty they might uncover, ending not only his time in Congress but also his life as a free man.
With a large coffee in hand, Dale sat and called his former client.
Zane answered on the third ring.
“It’s Fuller.”
“Expected to hear from you sooner,” Zane said in his all-too-familiar gravelly voice, the one that said the guy smoked at least two packs a day and had been for a long time.
“Start with the house. I want every computer device in it. You know where to deliver the stuff.” Dale sipped his coffee and watched an attractive redhead wearing a super short skirt and a halter top walk past his table toward the counter. “If I don’t find what I need on them, we’ll proceed as we discussed. You’ll have free rein to do whatever you need. But remember, only if I don’t get the information I need.”
“Anything?” Zane asked.
When people reached a certain point of desperation, they did what they had to. He’d reached his. “Anything. I want both. However, if I can only have one, bring me the information and do what you want with the other.”
In the long run, the information would bring him the money he wanted, but the woman wouldn’t. And at this point, he didn’t care what happened to Kassidy Buchanan or anyone associated with her.
Chapter Four
“Long day?” Keith asked Monday night.
“Hell, yeah,” Connor replied. He’d spent several hours seated in a run-down apartment listening to Neil Foley’s wire in case he needed backup. In an effort to bring down a violent Baltimore-based organization that’d been pimping out girls as young as fourteen while also making sure the drug problem in the city continued, Neil had gone undercover.
Originally, the parents of a girl who’d been lured away from home by the organization had contacted Elite Force. The firm had quickly partnered with the local authorities, though, to not only get all the girls safely back to their parents but to also eradicate the organization once and for all.
Neil had immediately volunteered for the assignment. He’d been working for months to get in close to the leaders. Today had been Neil’s first face-to-face with the organization’s second-in-command. Although Connor would take a bullet if it meant helping anyone who worked for the firm, he’d prefer to be the one infiltrating the organization while someone else sat around and listened to the meetings.
“Could be worse. You could be stuck escorting Stan Bonds,” Keith said. “He hired us for another of his trips to Venezuela.”
A bigmouth oil guy from Texas, Stan frequently hired Elite Force to keep his sorry ass safe when he traveled outside the country. Connor had never dealt with the dude, but he knew guys who had, and none of them had anything nice to say about him. “Again? He can’t be going down there only for business.”
Keith laughed. “Depends on what kind of business you’re talking about.”
Connor locked up the equipment he’d used today. Keeping a mistress in a different country might make it harder for the guy’s wife to find out, but it must be costing Bonds a fortune considering the number of times he’d hired the firm to accompany him down there.
“Did your plans on Saturday carry over into Sunday?”
He hadn’t seen Keith since Saturday morning in the gym. “No.”
“Strike out? Happens to everyone. Not me, of course, but don’t worry about it.” Keith pushed open the door to the stairwell. “How about we hit the bar? Grab a few beers and maybe find some new friends for the night.”
“Not tonight.”
“Feeling okay?” Keith asked, sounding surprised.
In the past, he’d join Keith for a beer and more than likely bring a woman back to his place for a few hours. After spending the day with Becca, the idea of having any other woman but her in his bed held no appeal whatsoever—a fact he should be concerned about, because his normal stance when it came to women was that one was just as good as the next.
“Got something else in mind.” He didn’t know whether she had plans for the night or not, but Becca had occupied his thoughts since he left her house. Waiting until the weekend to see her again wasn’t an option. Another thing he should examine further but wouldn’t.
“Then you didn’t strike out with the hot classmate you saw over the weekend.”
Talking about their sexual exploits wasn’t unusual. Tonight he had no desire to share what had or hadn’t happened between him and Becca. “See you later, Wallace.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Keith called out as Connor walked away.
Connor pressed her contact info as he slid behind the steering wheel. There was no point in driving to her house and dealing with the traffic if she wasn’t home. It rang several times before she answered.
“Any plans for tonight?” he asked after she greeted him.
“Uh, no.”
“Good. Do you want some company?”
“I’m not home yet. But I’ll be leaving work in a f
ew minutes.”
Eight o’clock and still at the office. He didn’t know about the politicians who parked their asses on the Hill, but evidently, their workers put in long days. “Leaving work now too. By the time you get home, I’ll be there. I can grab us dinner on the way.”
He heard the rustling of papers in the background before Becca answered. “That would be great.”
“Do you like barbeque?” When it came to food, he wasn’t overly picky, but tonight he felt like ribs.
“Yes.”
“I’ll stop at Cooper’s Smokehouse and pick up some food.” He’d learned of the place when he worked as Allison Sherbrooke’s bodyguard. It wasn’t far from Becca’s house in Alexandria and had awesome food.
***
When Becca opened the door, she was balancing a cell phone between her shoulder and ear while holding a compact-sized laptop. She gestured for him to come in then walked away and into a room down the hall, leaving him alone in the foyer.
He remembered her saying the kitchen was down the hall, so he headed in that direction. The room he entered was two or three times the size of his kitchen and reminded him of the one at his younger sister’s house, right down to the large floral arrangement on the table.
The restaurant had added paper plates and plastic utensils to the takeout bag. Rather than search through the cabinets, Connor pulled those out and set the table while he waited. If Becca had a problem using them—hell, he knew his mother wouldn’t be caught dead using a plastic fork—she could get what she wanted when she joined him.
He only managed to get the Memphis ribs out before she walked in the room, her heels clicking against the tiles announcing her arrival.
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