Her expression flushed with anger. "My brakes did fail."
He'd seen that look when he punctured the airbag. Apparently, she hadn't gotten past the initial impression. Perhaps the situation could still be saved. Doran focused on his feet and tried to wrap himself in an air of contrition. "I know."
"You do?" Her voice cracked.
He nodded and risked a peak at her face. "I’m sorry I screamed at you. I don’t usually shout obscenities at people. The truth is that you scared the shit out of me." He looked pointedly at the railroad track of stitches near her hairline and told her the truth. “There was so much blood and I didn’t know how to help you. I panicked.”
She stared at him as if weighing his words on some internal scale of honesty. Her clinched fist relaxed and she smoothed the faded denim covering her thigh. He played the meek role, as he never had before.
After an excruciating moment of hesitation, the right corner of her mouth tilted up and she took the plant. "I got the brown stuff scared out, too. I was so afraid that I'd hurt or killed someone else.” She swallowed. “I heard children screaming.”
“I vaguely remember a school bus going by afterward, but I was trying to help you, so my memory could be playing tricks.”
Tears welled, enhancing the suffering look, already deep in her gaze. He looked down. They were both wearing jeans and sneakers. She sniffed and stepped aside. “Come in, but don't touch the door. The paint might still be damp in spots." She grimaced. “My friend was pretty sloppy with it. Once she leaves, I’ll have it redone.”
"Nice house." Doran stepped onto the foyer's slate flooring, then leaned over and placed the cell phone on an ornate antique table.
“Thanks.” Kelsey shifted from one foot to the other and held the pot away from her mint green shirt as if she had a dirt phobia. Odd conduct for someone who supposedly hybridized plants and must work in dirt all day long. If Quinn could see how afraid she was of soil, perhaps he would stop defending the woman’s nonexistent honor.
Kelsey smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”
"I don’t drink.”
“Really?” He nodded. Kelsey studied him. "How’d you find me? I don’t recall us swapping insurance information."
Doran tried to make his body language and voice seem as non-threatening as possible. "My partner and I own an investigation service."
"So, you’re a super sleuth.”
He laughed. "Nothing that glamorous." She closed the door. It was all he could do not to heave a sigh of relief. "Our firm primarily deals with deadbeat dads and compensation cheats." One of her elegant eyebrows started to raise, but the movement ended with a wince of pain. Doran cleared his throat. "You’ve probably heard of the type - people who file phony disability claims, other fraudulent stuff.”
“I saw a newscast about one gentleman who couldn’t work. They showed video clips of him spending his days rock climbing and water skiing." Mouth flat, she shook her head.
“That’s the sort." He gave her a quick, shy smile. "You wouldn’t believe how many people are trying to find a way to bamboozle their way into million dollar payoffs.”
“Actually, I would. That’s one thing I'd like to change about our legal system.”
“Wouldn’t we all.” He gave a depreciating laugh. “Of course, if that happened, my partner and I might be out of a job.”
“There would still be cheaters, no matter what.” She gestured toward her living room. “Would you like to sit down?” The archway framed the same cozy garden-style motif of peace and blue tones that he'd seen from outside. He gratefully entered the room and walked in front of the window, so Trent would get the message. Antique wicker furniture was surrounded by silk plants and piled with comfortable pillows.
Since Kelsey had a botany degree, the theme appeared appropriate to her mindset, but the fact that she chose to live with fake plants surprised him. Add the fake plants to her apparent aversion to dirt and the greenhouse looked like more of a front. Doran wondered if these facts would alter Quinn’s convictions about why she needed a fancy secret laboratory. “Nice room." He settled on the sofa, which faced the window.
"Thank you." She avoided eye contact with him as well as the orchid.
Footfalls clattering down the stairs heralded Zoë Lancaster’s arrival. He glanced toward the archway as Zoë stopped on the bottom step and thrust her chest forward until the small ruby triangles threatened to rip over her protruding nipples. Kelsey stared at Zoë’s skimpy red bikini top, and skin-tight, semi-transparent white shorts as if unable to look away. Hmm, what had he interrupted? He cleared his throat. “Obviously, I came at an inconvenient time.” He started to get up. Kelsey tore her attention away from Zoë and blushed crimson as she glanced at him. Zoë jerked when she realized they weren't alone, then her smile widened "Hi." Zoë thrust her chest forward and batted her lashes at him as she moved across the foyer. "It’s so good to see you again.”
Doran frowned. “Have we met before?” What kind of mascara did she use? The closer she got, the more it looked like she’d glued tarantulas to her lids.
“You don’t remember?”
He shook his head. Surely she she’d been too drunk to see him under Kelsey's car, much less recognize him as the man beneath the face paint.
Zoë shrugged, then glanced around as if looking for something to talk about and spotted the orchid in Kelsey’s hands. She jerked in surprise. "Where'd that Blessed Promise come from?" Zoë asked.
"Mr. Doran brought this gift." Kelsey held it even farther away from her conservative camp shirt.
"You did?” Zoë's smile widened to reveal perfect teeth, but her eyes remained mistrustful. “What a lovely gesture.” She smirked.
Kelsey put the plant on the coffee table. "It’s a great gift." She wiped her hands on her faded jeans and gave Zoë a look he couldn't interpret.
"I’ve got to go check the kitchen." Zoë bolted back into the foyer. Once out of sight, he heard muffled sounds that sounded like an odd hiccupping laugh.
"Make yourself comfortable.” Kelsey gestured nervously around the room, then hurried after Zoë.
ooo
“Have you finished packing?” Kelsey soaped her hands at the sink.
“Getting there.” Zoë nodded toward the foyer’s archway. “Where’d you dig him up?”
“I banged into him.”
“You banged him?” Zoë’s startled whisper reeked of disbelief. “Well, go girl! It’s about time you started learning how to live.” She snickered. “But it’s funny how he brought you the plant you grew to commemorate your engagement to good old Byron.”
“That subject is taboo. Go any farther into it and I’ll have Mr. Doran throw you out.”
“Mr. Doran? You don’t need to copy your grandma. It’s okay to refer to a man by his first name after you’ve had him.”
Kelsey blushed scarlet when she finally understood how her remark had been interpreted. She opened her mouth to correct her, then realized that Zoë was going to believe whatever she wanted because she simply couldn’t understand anyone living by a more upstanding set of moral values. She rinsed her hands. “I promised him a glass of ice water.”
“I’ll get it.” Zoë knocked over two other glasses in her haste to grab one.
“Be my guest.” Zoë threw ice into the glass, then overfilled it with water and slopped as she tossed a lemon quarter into the glass. Kelsey tilted her head, amazed at Zoë’s urgency. Then, she realized that her stepsister thought she was involved with the man, a situation guaranteed to make him irresistible to someone who wanted everything she had. For a moment, Kelsey felt sorry for the man, then she remembered the vulgar way Mr. Doran had initially screamed at her and figured he deserved a good case of Zoë and whatever diseases she had. “Take your time. I’m going to make up a snack tray.” She dried her hands, then leisurely reached for her cookie jar.
Chapter Six
Ice cubes clinked as Zoë handed Doran a sweaty glass. "Here's your water." When he took
it, she perched on the edge of the love seat and leaned toward him. The suffocating stench of Opium enveloped him. He clamped his jaws together to keep from gagging. "So, what part are you playing tonight?" she whispered in a conspiratorial manner. Her come-on rivaled a street-corner whore’s. Too bad he didn’t have any doors to lock or windows to roll up as a barrier against the vulgar behavior.
“Excuse me?” He took a sip of the water, grateful that it didn't require any acting skills to appear confused. "What game might that be?"
"Politics." She tugged at her top’s straining spaghetti-straps causing silicon to jiggle like Jell-O in an earthquake.
“Politics?” He repeated, as he tried to focus on the topic instead of the crude woman. Doran lowered his gaze. Zoë's lacquered red toenails dug into the peach-toned oriental rug.
"Maybe control." She made an expansive gesture that sent a rainbow of light across her feet from light reflected off her rings. "Possibly power. Or maybe just manipulation of the facts." She licked her upper lip. "Call it what you want, but Marv just calls it politics."
Doran recalled a rumor claiming Frederickson, not the MacLennans dealt drugs. Was Kelsey's girlfriend setting the stage for that scenario? If so, why? Had she somehow made him and honed in on in essential elements of the investigation? He decided to play naïve until he could figure out the facets of the game she was playing.
"You really don't remember me." Her abrupt shift from casual conversation to challenge caught him off guard.
"If we'd met, I'd remember." There was no way he’d have forgotten those tarantula eyelashes or that ridiculous bosom.
Her dark gaze shifted to look past him. She grinned and leaned forward. "I remember you," she breathed. Her lips twisted into a character of a smile. "I know who you're working for." Her clandestine singsong tone reminded him of kindergarten conspiracies.
Doran kept his expression quizzical. How had this bimbo identified him as a DEA agent? He blinked. Perhaps she could bluff better than he suspected. Well, two could play that game. "And that is?"
"Marv, Marvin Frederickson, Senator Frederickson."
Oh, so she knew the cover story, but not his real identity. His heart rate slowed and he relaxed. "Is there a reason it bothers you that we did a job for him?"
Zoë blinked as if confused by his casual acceptance. She tugged harder at the top’s strap. "Men always remember me."
"Is it important if we've met?"
"Just to my ego." Zoë pouted. She might have been cute, if she weren't lying about her motive. "Kel believes Marv will do anything to keep his senate seat. She thinks it gives him power and money to control things and she thinks he’s a drug smuggler or dealer or something." She shook her head over that piece of information. Hmm, the woman was slicker than he’d given her credit for and definitely had an unusual way of twisting rumors. "He’s not,” Zoë whispered. She gave him a pleading look. “He’s a good man, but Kel's whole family hates him and they brainwashed her." Perhaps she should be an actress.
Two could play this game and he had a heck of a lot more practice than she did. Doran took a sip of water and tried to determine the point she wanted to make. In order to play his part, he had to be certain if her ploy was geared to support the character-smearing rumors about Frederickson that had begun a few weeks before Ramsey MacLennan declared his candidacy or not. Doran frowned and gave her a confused look. "I don't understand. Please explain."
"Kel believes Marv tried to have Rams killed and tried to kill her, because she campaigned for him and now that she's actually running -"
Doran put his hands in a T, for time out. She immediately clamped her mouth shut. "Who and what are you talking about?" This time, he didn't need to fake his confusion.
"Kelsey." Zoë gave him an exasperated look and pointed toward the wall, where he could hear faint sounds of someone chopping something. "And Marvin Frederickson."
Doran nodded. “I figured out that much.” But she seemed to have a whole new slant to the script. He massaged his temple, giving her the picture of bewilderment.
"I’ve known them both all my life," Zoë whispered.
"Them who? Kelsey and the senator? What in the world does that have to do with anything? And why are you so concerned about the subject?"
Zoë looked at him as if he was dumber than dust. He gave her his most befuddled look. Zoë leaned back and stared at him, as if he was an alien. "Kelsey is my half sister." The decade of undercover work was the only thing that saved him from laughing. "My mother is their housekeeper." Her tone said that her mother was much more than the housekeeper and added credence to her claim of paternity.
Quinn, who was listening to verify the bug’s reception, would love that detail. Had Zoë and Kelsey cooked up this sister story to hide the lesbian relationship that Quinn suspected, or could it be that the master of trivia had missed this bit of information. Doran made a non-committal sound, uncertain how laudable or believable the idea of them being related seemed.
"And Kelsey's step-mom is Marv’s sister." Zoë gave him a patient look. "Marv is Marvin Frederickson and Senator Frederickson is your boss."
"Client, not boss. It’s an interesting coincidence that you’re aware of that case and I guess it does show how small a world this is.” He tilted his head. “I must admit that your genealogy lesson was fascinating, however, I really don’t understand what bearing that could possibly have on this situation.” Doran gestured to the cell phone lying on the table, then massaged a kink developing in the back of his neck. “Is the contract our office has with the senator what has you so concerned?” Disbelief tinged his tone.
Zoë stared at him. "You actually have something in writing?"
"Of course, though our client list is confidential." He didn't need to fake his confusion.
"I know who you really are." She enunciated each syllable distinctly. Zoë's eyes shifted to check every shadow, and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.
Doran fingered the droplets on his sweaty glass and decided she must be putting on this show to check him out for some unknown reason.
"Kelsey needs to quit this stupid election. I want you to warn her that the chicken was no joke." She gave him a significant look. "Kelsey needs to listen to someone. Maybe she’ll listen to you."
How had he gotten into such a ridiculous dialogue? "You expect her to listen to a stranger, when she apparently won't listen to you?" Doran laughed. Zoë’s face registered embarrassment. “I’m just here to return her phone and apologize for being a first-class jerk when she crashed her car into mine. I really don’t understand what our car accident has to do with politics or anything else."
“She banged into you?” He nodded. Zoë’s gaze narrowed on his face. “If you work for Marv, why would you be stupid enough to-“ She snapped her mouth shut.
“Are you suggesting I did something to cause the accident?” She widened her eyes at his tone. “If I’d known her brakes were going to fail, do you seriously think I would have gotten hit?” He shook his head. “Frankly, I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with the job we were hired to do for the senator, but I gather that Ms. MacLennan is the MacLennan running against him. Is that accurate?”
“Yes.” A suffering look suffused Zoë’s lace. Without warning, she vaulted to her feet and fled upstairs.
Doran took a sip of water and tried to decide if he’d won or lost the strange verbal match. Moments later, Kelsey carried in a tray filled with cookies and sliced vegetables. The fine lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth indicated pain. An upstairs door slammed. She glanced toward the stairs, her confusion comical. Back straight as a saber, Kelsey bent her knees and placed the tray on the coffee table. With a slight sigh of relief, she settled onto the chintz cabbage rose covered cushion of the chair facing him. Feet together, she folded her hands in her lap, Kelsey silently studied him.
How could two women – particularly ones that could be some sort of siblings, be so opposite?
Doran sipped the lemon-flavored water and wondered if he'd met his match or if the woman was too medicated to show emotion.
"How much do you want?" Kelsey said.
He glanced at the cookies, which looked great, but he didn’t need the carbohydrates or sugar. He chose a small handful of broccoli stalks and celery sticks. "These are great, thanks."
Kelsey made a dismissive gesture at the laden tray. "I meant to repair your car. That is why you’re really here, isn’t it?"
How could he have overlooked such an obvious scenario? Doran pointed at the cellular phone. “I'm just returning your property.” He gave her his most apologetic look. Kelsey's expression became disbelieving. "My car only suffered minor damage," Doran assured her. "My insurance will cover it." She looked to the ceiling, as if expecting lightening to strike him. Doran cleared his throat. "My partner and I do a great deal of work for insurance companies. One benefit is great coverage."
"It was my fault.” Her chin rose a fraction. “I should at least pay your deductible."
Doran studied her and took a bite of broccoli. Even after he chewed it thoroughly, her aloof attitude remained intact. Time to alter that. "Are you suggesting you were the one who drilled your brake lines?"
Her posture stiffened; something he would have thought impossible. "I beg your pardon?" The color in her complexion faded to chalk white. He took a bite of celery and chewed while she gripped the chair's arms for support, her knuckles whitened, and her gaze seemed to block out everything but his face. "How would you know that unless you did it?"
Doran choked. Damned but the woman was quick to see through the b.s. He cleared his throat. "Yesterday, one of our people was at the impound lot checking on-" He cleared his throat. "Something else." Doran kept his tone calm. "Ever since I overreacted, I’ve-" He grimaced as if admitting personal failure was too painful to verbalize. He hoped he wasn’t overacting. "On a hunch, I had my investigator check out your car."
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