“Really? The cops couldn’t tell me a damn thing when I last talked to them. What are you hearing?”
Kamal was known for his less than savory contacts. As the son of a prominent Egyptian businessman he was acquainted with a wide variety of people, including members of the Egyptian underworld.
“It appears that someone contacted Melville’s office last week asking for the Senator’s campaign schedule. Naturally they were only given his public appearances, but the campaign worker said that shortly after that phone call a man stopped by saying he was interested in volunteering. She went to get him the paperwork to fill out and when she got back he’d wandered into the conference room where you’ve got the Senator’s events with times and dates shown on the map.”
“So that he could have seen where Melville would be leaving the private meeting at the Carpenter’s Hall Union where he was shot, and at what time.” Derek cursed under his breath. “Which worker was this?”
“Denise,” Kamal answered.
“And did she remember what the guy looked like?”
“Yes, we’ve got a good description, and interestingly it matches Ryan Williams, the Senate aide who was having Melville investigated.”
Derek took a deep breath and shook out his hands, reminding himself that clenching every muscle in his body while he was running wouldn’t help him out any.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“There’s something else,” Kamal said.
“Okay, might as well hit me with all of it.”
“It appears that our man Williams has fooled around with more than just his boss’s wife. Eighteen months ago he was involved with Nick Patterson’s wife as well.”
Derek nearly stumbled he was so shocked. Patterson was one of his bigger competitors in the political consulting business. A good guy, they periodically met for drinks to discuss things if they wanted an outsider’s input before taking on a new client.
“I had no idea Nick and his wife were having problems. And why the hell would she take up with a slimeball like Williams?”
“I’m not sure of that yet, but we’ve gotten reports that Williams and Nick have been seen together twice in the last few weeks, Derek.”
No. This made no sense whatsoever. Nick Patterson was a good guy. Not the success Derek was, but no slouch. A consummate professional and a devoted family man. There was absolutely no way he’d be involved in destroying Derek’s career and Melville’s campaign. Not to mention an assassination attempt.
“Where the hell are you getting your information, Kamal? I don’t believe for one second that Nick would ever involve himself in a mess like this. He’s a good man. Ethical almost to a fault. And if what you’ve heard about Williams and Nick’s wife is true, I’d think they’d be the last two men on the planet meeting up with one another unless it was in a back alley with brass knuckles.”
Derek’s security guard gestured to the left, indicating he wanted Derek to round the corner, away from the denser sidewalks of the main thoroughfare that were rapidly filling with early morning commuters.
Derek complied, simultaneously trying to pick up his pace which he’d slowed as he talked to Kamal.
“You know I’m not going to tell you who I’ve talked to,” Kamal scolded. “I’m able to get you this kind of information because I promise them complete anonymity. But they’re solid sources, Derek. Could it be that Nick was meeting with Williams about something completely unrelated to Melville’s campaign? Of course. Maybe Williams was talking to Nick about consulting on Donovan’s possible presidential run. Maybe they were discussing the affair, albeit in a lot more civilized fashion than you’ve suggested. But why wouldn’t they have met at the office for that? We don’t know at this point, but we need to find out. Even though it involves someone you respect.”
Derek knew his friend was right. He knew that with Melville’s life threatened, his own career circling the drain, and London’s life torn apart there was no way they could afford to skip any possible suspects. But damn it hurt to think about Nick involved in something like this.
“Okay,” he answered gruffly. “Do what you have to do.”
“I’ll tell Jeff. Call me tonight if there are any updates on Melville’s condition.”
“Will do.” Derek paused. “And Kamal? As long as you’re looking into the Pattersons, find out if Nick’s wife is okay. She’s not the type to cheat. Something’s gone very wrong there. It may be none of my business, but I’d like to know more about it.”
They ended the call, and Derek turned back toward London’s townhouse, a sudden need to see her taking over any noble ideas of self-improvement that might have started his morning off with a run.
London woke with her skin tingling, her heart racing, and her mind a delicious mixture of images, smells, and sounds. The memory of Derek’s tongue across her skin, his deep, raspy voice in her ear, the hard shiny head of his cock as he leisurely pumped it into his big fist. Her sex throbbed and she stretched luxuriously before turning to find the rest of the bed empty.
Dammit. She might like a repeat of last night. And maybe, just maybe, she could get comfortable enough to let Derek take her there instead of her own fingers.
She sat up, looking around the room for some clue as to where he might have gone. He was nothing short of amazing. She’d never known a man who would go to so much trouble to help a woman feel comfortable. That he’d forgone actual sex just because she had such outrageous hang-ups was astonishing to her, and made her feel more than a little warm and squishy about him.
She noticed his work clothes draped over an armchair in the corner, and his big duffle bag still sitting on her floor, so he couldn’t have left for work yet. Maybe he was downstairs getting coffee? The man did love his coffee.
Five minutes later, hair brushed and teeth clean, London wandered downstairs in one of her many silk kimonos, following the smell of strong coffee and the sounds of something she’d never experienced before—a man cooking in her kitchen.
She turned the corner and came to a standstill. There he stood, bare chested, athletic shorts hanging loosely off of his narrow hips, hair mussed, and scruff covering his face. He had a spatula in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, and he was cooking what smelled like the world’s best bacon—or maybe she was simply hungrier than usual. She sighed, disbelieving that this was her very own kitchen. She felt like she must have wandered into someone else’s life.
As if he had a sixth sense that told him when she was near, Derek turned and looked over his shoulder at her, his expression growing hungry the minute his eyes dropped from her face, slid slowly down her scantily clad body, and back up again.
“Good morning,” he growled, carefully removing the pan from the stovetop and setting it aside. He stalked across the kitchen to where she stood and set his hands on her hips before yanking her against him and lowering his mouth.
“You’re looking exceptionally delicious today,” he murmured before crushing his lips to hers.
London’s body flared to life, need slamming into her like a velvet hammer to her midsection. She moaned and opened her mouth to him as he thrust his tongue inside, his hard cock pressing against her stomach.
His hands slipped around to her backside and he clutched her ass, yanking her up against him tighter and higher. Then he bent his knees, licking down her neck and pressing his erection against the perfect spot between her legs.
“Damn, woman,” he growled. “I should have never gotten out of that bed this morning.”
“God, no,” she gasped. “Whatever possessed you to leave?”
He chuckled, slowly nibbling back up to her lips, softly pressing a kiss to them before he released her.
“Unfortunately I can’t play hooky today. We’ve got a shitstorm to tame, and a candidate in the hospital.”
London’s lust-induced haze cleared as Derek turned back to the stove, and she was reminded about the disaster of her life outside this house.
As if sensing the c
rashing mood, Derek walked to her, a plate of eggs and bacon in hand and gently maneuvered her to the bartop. “Sit,” he commanded with a smile. “Have some food, I’ll get you caught up with everything, and you can tell me what you need today so that the security detail can take care of it.”
Forty-five minutes later, London was fed, she’d looked over the newest press releases Derek’s office had drafted, and she was sitting on her living room sofa with a cup of coffee listening to him give instructions to the security staff about where she needed to go during the day.
While she bristled at the idea of a security detail, as well as Derek parceling out permission for her day’s arrangements, she knew that at this point it was necessary. If she were to brave the outside world on her own right now she would be assaulted by press, curiosity seekers, opportunists and bullies. Everyone would want a piece of the most notorious hooker since Heidi Fleiss and it wouldn’t be pretty. She knew she didn’t have what it took to face down the hordes alone.
“Excuse me!” a familiar voice rang out from the foyer. “I don’t give a damn if you’re the secret service, I will see her this minute if you know what’s good for you!”
London leaped off of the sofa as she heard Derek’s voice intercede. “It’s okay Michael, I’ve got this…Hi, I’m Derek Ambrose, London’s boyfriend, can I help you?”
“I know exactly who you are,” Joanna snapped back. “What you are to London is a whole other issue. I, on the other hand, am her best friend, and I’m coming in to see her right now, or I’ll call the police and say you’re holding her against her will.”
Derek chuckled then and London couldn’t help but smile herself, even as her heart beat double-time in trepidation.
“No need to call D.C.’s finest,” Derek replied. “She’s right in here, you’re welcome to see her.”
Joanna’s heels tapped harshly against the hardwood floors as she burst into the living room, Derek ambling behind her, what could only be described as a bemused expression on his face.
“London, oh thank God, you’re okay.” Jo vaulted to London and grabbed her in a hard hug. London looked over Jo’s shoulder to find Derek smiling benevolently at them.
“You okay?” he mouthed.
London nodded and he went back out, his voice and those of the security detail receding as they walked out of the house and shut the front door.
Joanna pulled back and set London away, clutching her shoulders and giving her the once over.
“You’re all right?” she asked gently.
London smiled at Jo’s theatrics. “Yes, he’s taking very good care of me. The security is to keep others out, not to keep me in.” Although her gut reaction was to feel confined anyway—but she didn’t need to tell Joanna that.
They sat down and Jo turned to her, concern etching her sweet, porcelain features.
“Why won’t you return my calls?”
London sighed, guilt clawing at her insides. “Why would you call in the first place?”
Joanna shook her head before reaching out and grasping London’s wrist. “When are you going to get it? I love you. You’re the sister I never had, you are my family, and I’m yours. It doesn’t matter what you do, I won’t abandon you.”
London’s eyes swam with tears, and she choked back a sob. “But I lied to you—again. And I’m a prostitute—”
“I knew this you’ll recall.”
London sniffed. “But now you know that I’m a prostitute who’s had sex with a married politician you supported. I’ve seen pictures of his wife. He’s got little children, Jo. I’ve never known that about a client. We don’t ever…I’ve never…”
“Shh,” Jo shushed. “What you did yesterday or the day before that doesn’t matter to me nearly as much as what you decide to do tomorrow. Am I pissed? Damn straight. You lied to me. After we had that discussion about the prostitution, after you told me how you got here and why. You still lied to me. And it hurts. It makes me feel like you don’t really trust me, even after all these years, after I found out the things you’ve been hiding and I forgave you. You still don’t trust me.”
“I’m so sorry, Jo. I do trust you. I think I’ve just spent so many years hiding and lying that I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t know how to be anything else. I’m a liar.”
“Stop it,” Jo admonished. “You’re not a liar, you’re someone who has lied. But you’re at the bottom now. There’s no way to go but up, and it’s going to be a fantastic ride. You need to put this whole double life behind you and let me help you find the real London. She’s here, she just needs some encouragement.”
London grabbed Jo and hugged her hard. “The way you forgive me no matter what is the most encouraging thing in my world. And I’m so sorry that you had to find out about Melville like this.”
Jo nodded solemnly, her lips pursed. “So he isn’t quite the guy I thought he was.”
“I’m sorry, Jo.” London meant it for so much more than Melville’s mistakes. If she could turn back the hands of time to give her friend at least a presidential candidate to admire she would.
“And you and Derek? I don’t understand. You said you were dating, but now you’re admitting you were seeing Melville. Was Derek only a decoy for the press? It looked a hell of a lot like he spent the night here.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Was he a client too?” Jo looked somewhat pale when she asked.
“No!” London’s stomach twisted at the very thought of Derek paying her for sex. “He would never. He’s a really good man, Jo.”
Joanna finally showed a sign of her usual spark. “So you are seeing each other?”
“He’s…different…than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Joanna’s face broke into an enormous grin. “You like him!” she crowed in delight. “You’re really dating him. Oh, London, I’m so relieved.”
London rolled her eyes. “Don’t go planning a wedding. This is temporary. We started the whole thing as a ruse to keep the press from knowing that Melville had been seeing me. But now we’re stuck because of the assassination attempt. Derek doesn’t feel that anyone publicly associated with the campaign is safe right now.”
Jo grinned. “What a convenient excuse.”
“Again, don’t go getting any ridiculous ideas.”
Joanna stood and walked slowly to the fireplace where she ran her finger along the mantle while she talked. “He obviously likes you. I saw the way he looked at you, and he made a point of referring to himself as your boyfriend.”
She paused before turning to face London, her face much more serious now. “He’s wealthy and powerful, London. If you continue to be involved with him he could help you get out of…your job. Maybe he could help you pay for school or start a business. There are all sorts of things you’re good at, I’m sure you could figure out something that interests you.”
London’s chest tightened at the imaginary future Jo described. Her friend meant well, but didn’t understand half of what lay under the surface of the arrangement with Derek.
“I know it looks that way from the outside, but it’s not that simple.”
“Why?” Jo asked, a stubborn set to her chin. “Why can’t you have a fresh start out of all of this? I can help you, Brian and I already talked about it. You don’t have to live like that anymore.”
London’s first response was, as always, to bristle, cloak herself in indignation and tell Joanna to go run someone else’s life. But she knew Jo meant well, and she also knew that Jo’s reactions were based on incomplete information. A situation that couldn’t be rectified.
“I appreciate it. You and Brian are the most generous people in the world and I love you both very much.” She took a breath, trying to conquer the tension in her neck and chest. “I’ll think about it all. I promise.” There. That was the easiest way to placate Jo for now. She didn’t need to know that as soon as Derek had the campaign rumors under control it would be back to life as normal for London.
> Jo smiled and rushed over to hug London where she sat on the sofa. “Those are the best words I’ve heard in two days. Now, don’t ever make me find out something about you that way again. No more secrets, okay?”
London nodded, too overcome for a moment to speak.
“I love you,” she answered, neatly sidestepping any promises or commitments. Dissembling came easy to her. She’d spent the better part of a decade perfecting the art.
Chapter 11
London should have looked at the phone more carefully. She didn’t recognize the number, it didn’t show a name, and she was in the middle of a media feeding frenzy, so it should have made her cautious. An anonymous number, an unknown caller. But before her mind could get her body to exercise caution she’d swiped the screen and answered, “Hello?”
The line was silent for a split second then London heard an intake of breath. Somehow, from that one tiny noise she knew, and the voice that followed the breath rolled over her like a familiar old coat.
“London, please don’t hang up,” Farrah Amid’s sultry voice begged.
London clenched her teeth together, her eyes stinging. She was breathless for a moment, her vision wobbled and she collapsed against the wall she stood next to.
“How did you get this number? And what do you want?” Her own voice was barely above a whisper.
She heard Farrah swallow, and even though she’d never seen the woman cry, she sensed that it was a sob she shoved down deep into her throat.
“I needed to know you’re okay,” Farrah answered. “I saw the news weeks ago, and was finally able to get one of the reporters to track down your number. I had to hear you myself, to know if you’re all right?”
London’s gaze went to the window. The press had found her house this morning, and each time she looked out the window there were more of them, like vultures waiting to pick a carcass clean. Then her eyes drifted to the newspaper on the table nearby, its headlines screaming about the assassination attempt on Melville.
“I will be if everyone will leave me alone,” she answered, “but I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon.”
The Kingmaker (Powerplay #1) Page 14