She narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him. “Do you think this Wes or Marvin could be the link?”
“We’re not one-hundred-percent positive.” He gave Frederickson a significant glance.
Kelsey inched back and looked up at him. “Marvin knew Ling’s name.” Doran nodded. “I’ve never trusted him. I always thought he used people and lied.” She glared at Doran. “I have zero tolerance for dishonesty.”
“If the senator is dealing with Ling, he’s playing with sharks and he knows he has to stay in the water or die.”
Kelsey stared at him. “Do you mean what I think you do?”
“Ling buys politicians all over the world. If Frederickson belongs to Ling, he has to keep his office or Ling will kill him. If he’s a good little drone, Ling will kill off the competition.”
Kelsey blanched. “Abby and Jenny?”
“We’re investigating that possibility, but haven’t gotten a definitive answer or enough solid evidence for a conviction.”
The speaker hummed. Kelsey jumped. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, “it's my privilege to referee tonight's debate.”
People clapped. As Marvin moved past them and stepped onto the stage, the applause escalated to thunder.
“Are you telling me that to save my life I should drop out of this election?” Hands on hips, she glared at him.
Doran shook his head. “I’m here to watch your back.”
She chortled. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.” He raised a brow. “You’re worth quite a bit dead. Who is watching your back?”
“Let me worry about that."
She shook her head. “Not when it could mean that I could get shot in the back.”
He stroked her cheek. "Trent and Quinn are keeping tabs on me and if I die, they’ll take over protecting you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Now, get out there and win votes.”
Kelsey glanced at the curtain that concealed the cheering crowd and the senator. Her expression changed to the dread he's suspected earlier, when he'd noticed her white knuckles. Doran hugged her. “I thought you were over your stage fright.” She shook her head. He kissed her forehead. “I’m not surprised. Most people would rather die than face a crowd and possibly be ostracized.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
"Thank you for the wonderful greeting." Frederickson's voice came from the speakers. The cheering dimmed somewhat. "I thought my worthy opponent would be here tonight, but she seems to be missing."
“Don't worry," Doran said. "You'll win the people. For one thing, you’re an excellent public speaker because you believe in the issues and people sense your sincerity."
"But Marvin has so much experience."
Doran chuckled. "Something tells me that Frederickson will probably be off tonight.”
“How would you know that?”
He wet his lips. “If someone had just told you that your biggest supporter or your most philanthropic secret supporter didn’t care if you won or lost, would you be having a good night?” Understanding dawned warm and bright in her gaze. It felt good, probably too good.
“How about you going out there and debating Marvin?" she asked. "You did great back here.”
“Face you fears, acknowledge them, then they can't control you … and know that I’m watching over you.”
“I’ll try." He arched a brow. She squared her shoulders and lifted her head. "No, I won't try, I’ll do it.”
“Good, now go show the voters that you're worth fifty Fredericksons.” When she hesitated, he kissed her.
By the time she walked onto stage amid thunderous applause, her face was flushed.
Doran plucked his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number Frederickson had called. A recording answered. He hung up before the tape could add a message, then he phoned a familiar number and made a long-due confession to Wes.
Chapter Fifteen
Eyes smarting from the paparazzi’s flashes, Kelsey leaned against Doran’s solid presence. “Who is your friend?” one journalist shouted. More reporters picked up that line of questioning until she knew it would cause more damage to ignore them, then to answer.
“Devlin Doran,” Doran said.
“Are things serious?” another one shouted.
“Have you set a wedding date?” a third demanded.
Kelsey said, “There are lots of serious things in the world. Children growing up without proper food, clothing, education or medical treatment comes to mind.” She felt in the pocket of her jacket. “I want to make the world better for all children and give each and every one an equal opportunity. A few days ago, I found this photo near a trash can.” She held up the mystery girl’s photograph. A tremor went through Doran’s solid bicep. “If I’m elected to office, I hope to make certain that no child is thrown away.”
“Who is the kid?” a journalist asked, pen poised over a notepad.
Kelsey shrugged as she slipped the old photograph back into her pocket. “She could be anyone. But, for me, her image represents all the children I want to help.”
“Mr. Doran,” a journalist barked, “how long have you known Ms. MacLennan?”
“Long enough to know she has my vote,” he replied. “And now, I hope you all drive safely.” With that, he tucked her hand under his arm and steered her behind the stage curtain.
The sudden darkness blinded her, but he continued guiding her toward the rear door without pausing for his eyes to adapt to the dim light. That plus his ease at extricating them from the reporters and their endless questions amazed her. “You have to teach me how to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get away from the paparazzi.”
“It’s simple: 1) answer a question; 2) give them something to do, and 3) leave.” He opened the exterior door part way and silently surveyed the desolate parking lot. Bats swooped through the halo of light, grabbing moths, which circled each streetlight. Though the lights seemed to give off ample light, the shrubbery hugging the auditorium’s foundation seemed shrouded in sinister shadows.
After a searching look, Doran stepped outside and visually searched the lot, again. Than, he reached back, took her hand and ushered her toward his vehicle. Heels, clicking with each step, were the loudest sound in the nearly deserted parking lot, but she could hear remnants of conversation and car doors slamming from the front door. Kelsey shivered with a strange sense of being watched and huddled as close to Doran's side as she could get and at the same time making certain that he could reach his sidearm, if needed. With each step the feeling of being spied on intensified. The desire to run to his suburban welled.
While they were at least a hundred feet away, he took his high-tech remote control out of his jacket and tapped a key. The tiny screen flashed scarlet, then red numbers appeared. He stopped walking and scowled at the display.
“Is something wrong?”
“The Suburban’s electric shock feature has been triggered.” He frowned. “I didn’t expect Frederickson to react so fast.” He keyed in some numbers and the screen went blank.
Kelsey breathed in the humid air and looked around the isolated lot, wishing that she didn’t feel like such a target. “Wouldn’t it have been safer to park in the main lot?”
“If I had parked there, we would still be dealing with reporters.” Doran smoothed the hair off her forehead. “You did great tonight." He stroked her face, as if the only reason that he'd stopped walking in the middle of the dark parking lot was to look at her. "You made Frederickson look like ground round.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
He grinned. “Stay here. I think the Burb is okay, but there’s no need to risk both our hides.”
Her knees felt suddenly weak and her heart slammed against her ribs as if it was a prisoner behind bars. As he eased away from her, a chill crept over her. Kelsey wanted to fling herself at him, and bury herself in his safe warmth, but knew that would be the dumbest thing she’d ever done. So, she crossed her
arms over her stomach and prayed her over active imagination would stop telling her that the back of her head was in a sniper’s crosshairs. “You think there’s a bomb there or something?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” The man looked and sounded way too cheerful. “I told you that I'd made a lot of enemies in the past. Truth is most of them are worse than the average insurance fraud and more than one has the ability to build a bomb.”
It was all she could do to remain standing as he casually strolled toward his Suburban, hunkered down and looked underneath the frame.
Kelsey focused on inhaling and exhaling.
He chuckled, then did something to the remote that caused a chirping sound. He rose and whistled a jaunty little refrain as he opened the passenger door. A moment later, he tossed a newspaper on the asphalt, knelt and stuck his head under the vehicle. A flashlight beam glinted off something silvery lying near the front tire.
If it were explosives or something deadly, he’d be calling the bomb squad or something, wouldn’t he? Gooseflesh broke out over her arms, as she stared at whatever he’d found. His cheerful whistling rose in volume as he reached under the vehicle. It must be safe. Kelsey crept toward the car, while thinking that she should have used the bathroom before they left. She rubbed warmth into her upper arms.
Doran whistled a triumphant tune as he stood up. Using a pair of long-nosed pliers, he held up a foot long metal tool for her to see. “A bit clichéd, don’t you think?” He looked and sounded like he’d just won a major victory.
“What is it?”
“A Yankee drill.”
He sounded serious. Doran pointed to the thick end. “You hold it here. It operates on spring tension and acts like a sort of corkscrew mixed with a pogo stick. Thus, when you press down, the bit revolves and a hole gets drilled.”
Kelsey swallowed. “Are you trying to say that someone drilled holes in your brake lines?” Fear rolled in her stomach.
Doran chuckled. “They tried.” He shook open a gallon-sized freezer bag and dropped the drill in.
Great, now they had the privilege of calling a taxi or trying to drive the sabotaged car and wrecking. Kelsey balanced on one foot and pulled off her high heel, then she repeated the process with the other foot. Doran looked from her bare feet to her face and started laughing.
“You don't need to act so pleased. Someone wants us dead and is trying to kill us.” And she could still feel their gaze on her.
Still smiling, he held up the bag. “This thing has a smooth handle, Frank should be able to get some great fingerprints off it.”
“You treat this like a game.”
“It is a game." He caressed her cheek. "Okay, it's dangerous, but still a game.” Doran wrapped his arms around her. “You’re trembling.” His arms tightened. “We all get chances to win or lose. If we’re afraid to lose, we automatically lose. Instead of focusing on fear, I allow myself see how close I am to winning.”
It felt incredibly safe in his arms. She snuggled deeper into his warmth. “That’s the same way I felt about the chicken on my door.”
Doran caressed her back. “Having someone try to sabotage the Burb confirms that Frederickson is dirty.”
“How?”
“People who are a threat to Ling’s ‘friends’ get killed or at least have attempts made on their lives.”
He was right about that, but she should have thought about his safety before she decided he was her guardian angle and demanded that he put himself in danger. “So, you think Marvin phoned someone to come ‘fix’ your brakes.”
“I hope so. The trace might confirm it."
“Don’t you think we should call a taxi?”
“The Burb is fine. The electric shock got them before they got it.” He stroked her arms up and down, as if intuitively understanding her reaction. “What we need to do is get out of here before you shake to death. And we also need to drop this by Frank’s.”
Kelsey took a deep breath. “Who is Frank?”
“He’s the best fingerprint specialist I know.” He helped her into the vehicle. As she buckled and tightened her seat belt, he caressed her under the chin, as if unwilling to leave her long enough to go around the vehicle.
“Devlin Doran, who are you?”
For a moment, she thought he was going to simply close the door. Instead he answered, “I was born William Daniel Dalton. While I was in college majoring in business management, my younger sister died of an overdose. I changed my major to Criminal Justice. After graduation, I started working with the DEA. My goal for the past eleven years has been to track down the slime balls that killed Marnie.”
She sensed that very few people knew about this. “You loved her.”
He swallowed and nodded.
“Did you ever find them?”
“Oh, yeah. I tracked the poison from the peons up the chain.” His laugh was harsh. “Not that it’s done that much good in our 'innocent until proven guilty society'.”
“Probation?”
“That plus plea bargains and community service. Oh, and don’t forget the not guilty pleas that juries believed. But those were the small fish.”
“And Ling is the big one.”
“Oh, yeah.” He closed the door then came around and got in behind the steering wheel.
“So should I call you William, Bill, Will or what?”
He started the Suburban and drove out of the parking lot. “When I found out about the bounty on my head, I legally changed my name to Devlin Doran.”
“But you’re still with the DEA and you lied about being a PI.”
The vehicle turned onto the road, which passed in front of the auditorium. “Quinn and I opened D. Q. Investigations as an undercover op eighteen months ago. It is legitimate, but so is my badge."
The light ahead turned red. Doran turned the radio on. As strains of Beethoven filled the car, Doran watched the rearview mirror. Light from the stoplight accentuated his features. “Quinn is a paraplegic because I fucked up.”
Kelsey blinked. “What are you trying to tell me? That I should quit politics and let Marvin and his nefarious friends keep breaking laws? If I get elected, I can vote for tougher laws and try to protect all the kids.”
“I hope you get the chance.” The light turned green, but he turned to her, ignoring it. “Pia distracted me. She was beautiful, smart and sexy as all get out.” The light turned yellow. He accelerated into the intersection, the light turned red, halfway though. “I fell for her and temporarily forgot that my goal was to bring down her old man.”
Pia sounded perfect, except for having a drug-dealing father. She’d probably been tall, full-figured, exotic and sexy, everything that Kelsey knew she would never be. She stared out the windshield at the night and wished someone short, flat and sexually incompetent could captivate Devlin Doran enough not to think about security systems and possible watchers. Heat inched up her neck, as she acknowledged how much she wanted him.
“What was supposed to help me bring the bad guys down nearly killed Quinn.” He calmly studied the rear-view mirror. "By the way, we're being followed. Hang on while I lose them." With that, he whipped the wheel and the car did a one-eighty. As soon as they passed an ordinary tan sedan, he floored the accelerator. Moments later, the suburban skidded around another corner on two wheels. Where she would have been hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life, he casually drove one-handed. She stared out the rear window, watching the smaller car slide around the corner.
While Doran put the vehicle through a series of moves she wouldn't have thought it was possible for a big vehicle to execute, she dug her fingernails into the soft leather upholstery. For several minutes her heart thundered to the beat of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto and squealing tires tore the night’s peace.
He finally began driving sedately down the road, several turns after she lost sight of the sedan. She flexed her fingers with relief.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“You need to teach me t
o drive like that.” He shot her an indecipherable glance. “Do you think whoever was in the car was the same person who dropped the drill?”
“That or a journalist who couldn’t take a hint.”
“They can be pests.” She sighed. He grunted in agreement. When he didn’t pursue the safe line of conversation, she added, “Somehow, I think anyone powerful enough to make Marvin sweat all over the podium and look like a fool during our debate is smart enough to figure out your name change.”
“That’s Ling, all right.”
"What if Marvin figures out how you're valuable to Ling and tries to cash in?" Kelsey asked. "That sounds like something he’d do.” Doran shrugged, as if someone wanting to get rich over his death seemed incidental. “How do you live day in, day out knowing someone is willing to pay millions to have you dead?”
“No matter what he thinks, Old Ling isn't God.”
“Does anything ever upset you?”
The Suburban turned onto a quiet residential street lined with overhanging oaks. “Knowing homicidal maniacs are walking the streets and drug pushers are lurking in schoolyards infuriates me.” His matter of fact tone assured her that he would do whatever was in his power to remedy the situation. Devlin Doran was a man after her heart.
Kelsey sighed and leaned back against the soft leather seat. “Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Doran gave her a swift glance. “Are you trying to tell me you liked rear ending me?”
“No.” She groaned. “I liked my mustang without dents. What I meant-“
“I know what you meant.” He reached across the console, took her hand and gently squeezed it. “The more I get to know you, the more I like you, too.”
“You don't need to look so surprised. I’m not that disagreeable.” Just short, thin and flat – everything that men dislike.
“You are shy and sometimes that gives the impression of being frigid. But, you definitely are not cold.” He squeezed her hand.
The Suburban maneuvered into the driveway of a brick ranch. Doran parked and grabbed the plastic bag. “I’ll only be a minute.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss that pledged more when the time was right, then he reluctantly got out, and locked the doors.
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