Sean turned to go, then paused at the door with a troubled look on his face. “I’ll be in touch.”
Griff slumped at his desk thinking about Lorelei and their incredible night together. Was this where he would pay for his sins? By losing the only woman he would ever love? He thought back to the day she’d walked in and found them. He would never forget the look in her eyes. As far as Lorelei knew, it had ended right there, and he’d do anything to keep her from finding out what a sordid mess it had turned into.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabrielle looked out her fifth floor window. The words Le Cirque sizzled and flashed in front of the broken-down pile of bricks with electrical problems where she lived. In her corner room, she paced before two large windows, one that looked out on the street below and one that faced another window in the building next door. She’d dressed in a thin, silk robe with a red, gold, and black oriental design on the back. It hung open, exposing her thin demi-slip. Her movements were impatient as she took frequent drags from a cigarette she carried between the first two fingers of her right hand. The room was cloudy with smoke, her tension building as the early night crept stealthily toward midnight.
In the building across the narrow alleyway, she watched two seedy-looking characters worked quietly, setting up a camera that focused on her well-lighted window. One dark Hispanic type wore a colorful bandana over his head that tied at the side. The other was white and wearing an old-fashioned KISS T-shirt with a line of weird, ghoulish faces with long, hanging tongues spread across his barrel-like chest. They took a long time maneuvering the tripod and camera. Finally one of the picked up the phone.
Gabrielle picked it up as soon as it rang. “Everything’s ready,” T-shirt whispered into the receiver.
“My god, it’s about time,” she breathed. “I’m warning you, creep, these shots had better be good. I’ve got a lot riding on this.”
“Don’t worry, we’re professionals.”
She saw him turn his head. His partner sat with his chair tilted back looking at a magazine as he chugged down a cold beer. T-Shirt reached his foot out and brutally pushed on one leg of the chair, and his partner landed on the floor.
Bandana scowled up at him. “What the hell is your problem?”
T-Shirt put his hand over the mouthpiece, but that didn’t keep Gabrielle from being able to hear what he said. “What in hell do you think you’re doin’? Get up to the camera, for god’s sake.”
“What the hell for? They ain’t nothin’ to see yet.”
“You’d better be ready,” she threatened, and then slammed the phone down. Before her hand had even left the receiver, it rang again. She immediately picked it up. “Hello.”
“Ms. Moore, this is Sean McTammany.”
“Look, I’m tired of talkin’ to you. Get the goddamned president on the line, or I’m warning you—”
“Ms. Moore, please. Everything’s fine. He’s agreed to meet with you. You’ll be picked up—”
“Like hell,” she hissed into the mouthpiece. “He comes here.”
“Look, you want him alone, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“When he leaves the White House, he’s required to have Secret Service men with him.”
“Don’t give me that crap. If he wants to get away bad enough, he can. He comes here, and he comes alone, or I go to the press with a story that’ll burn up the front page. Got it?”
The voice on the other end hesitated for a moment. “All right, I’ll see what I can do. When?”
“Tonight. Midnight.” She lowered her heavily made-up lashes as her bold, red lips twisted up into a sneer. “And tell him he’d better have plenty of money. This time the bastard’s gonna pay me for it.”
* * * *
Lounging in their bedroom, Griff heard the phone ring and looked over to see Lorelei pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Sure.” Lorelei handed the receiver over to Griff. “It’s Sean.”
The moment Griff answered, Sean began speaking. “Bad news. The bitch wants you at her place or else. I hate to say it, but it looks like she’s calling the shots.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s interesting... uh...” His gaze slid over to Lorelei. “Just a minute, Sean.” Turning to Lorelei, he said, “Honey, I need to take this call in my room.”
“Why?”
“Just a bunch of shop talk. You know, very dull stuff.”
She gave him a teasing smile. “Can’t imagine you being involved in anything dull.”
“I won’t be a minute. Can you hang it up for me when I pick up?”
“Sure.”
Griff strode into his room and closed the door very gently, then rushed over to the phone, grabbed it up and said, “Okay, honey.”
Griff listened until he heard the expected click before his words rushed out. “What the hell do you mean? You were supposed to—”
“I know, but she knows she’s got you over a goddamned barrel. She says if you don’t show up at her place by midnight, and with plenty of money, she’ll go to the press.”
“Didn’t you tell her that I—”
“Of course. She knows all of that, but she doesn’t give a rat’s ass.”
“All right. I don’t know how in hell I’m gonna get out of this prison without a fuckin’ parade following me, but I’ll try. What’s her address?”
“She’s at Le Cirque in Southeast, room twenty-seven.”
“What in hell is she doing in that sleazy part of town?”
“How do I know? I guess it’s all she can afford. By the way, do you have any money?”
“I can write her a check. I just hope she doesn’t want cash.”
“Griff, take my word. She’s not the type to take a check. Besides, we need to avoid any transaction that can be used as evidence against you. My advice is to take a few dollars out of the safe.” The silence on the line stretched. “Griff, we can always take the money out of...”
“No,” Griff said. “We’d have to justify it, and that would bring this whole thing out into the open.”
“So lie.”
“Hell, no, Sean. If it ever got out, I’d never be forgiven. I can just see my name listed along with those other bastards that took money out of the taxpayers’ pockets for something personal. A trip to the Bahamas, a new boat, a secret liaison with a hot blonde. Not on your life. I can only imagine what the press would do with that kind of information.”
“I’m just trying to help, Griff.”
“I realize that, but I can’t do it.”
“Maybe I should go with you. I could wait outside.”
“No!” Griff yelled. “Hell no. We can’t afford any slipups now.”
“My god. I have to do something. I just can’t leave you to handle it alone.”
“I’m a big boy, Sean, and it’s time I paid for my sins. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Griff gently laid the receiver in its cradle, then slowly walked out of his bedroom, and into the living room where he had left Lorelei.
When he walked in, she glanced up, then back down quickly. “Everything okay?” she asked in a preoccupied voice.
“Uh... yeah. Lorelei...”
“Mmmmm?” She was concentrating on what she was reading.
“Honey, I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, go ahead,” she said, chewing on a potato chip as she continued to read.
“I’m... uh... I’m going to...” He felt a spark of irritation when he couldn’t get her attention. “Lorelei,” he said, looking at her, then at the book.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she said softly without moving her eyes from the page.
He hesitated, and then said impatiently, “Lorelei, I’m talking to you.”
“Go ahead, dear. I’m listening.”
“Well,” he said, angling his eyes toward her. “The truth is, Tula and I are very much in love. We’re going to rob a bank, then run away together and become the next Bonnie a
nd Clyde.”
“Sounds exciting, darling,” she mumbled, turned a page and continued reading. “Be sure and tell me all about it.”
With sudden anger, he reached over and grabbed the book from out of her hands, causing Lorelei to jump. He closed it and looked at the cover. A man and woman stood upon a high ridge with the wind blowing their hair. The man held the woman in his arms and looked as if he was about to rip her clothes off. Up above them, he read, Rogue of Love. “My god, Lorelei, can’t you find anything better to read than this?” He turned the book in his hands, looking it over curiously. “Did you get this out of the library?”
She snatched it away from him. “Yes, I got it from the library. What would you recommend that I read? How Truman lambasted Nixon in 1960? Or maybe the Presidential Succession Act? I’m sorry, suga’,” she said sarcastically. “My daddy would tan my ever-lovin’ hide if he knew I was readin’ anything that had the word Republican connected to it in any way.” She lifted the book and waved it in his face. “I’ll stick with this, thank you.” She opened the book to continue reading.
He took it away from her again. “Lorelei,” he said annoyed. “You’ve had your nose buried in that thing all evening. Don’t you think that’s enough reading for tonight?”
“I can’t stop now,” she said, again grabbing the book out of his hands.
“Why?”
She gave him a teasing smile. “The hero and heroine are just about to make love.”
“Yeah? So what? I don’t understand why you read that trash anyway.”
“Why, Griff Nyle,” she began, looking at him curiously. “I do believe you’re jealous of a romance novel.”
“Forget about those two paperback lovers,” he whispered, gently slipping the book out of her hands and throwing it over his shoulder. He pulled her into his arms and turned her so that she lay over his lap. “I can show you a lot more fun.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her wild, bronze-colored eyes challenged him.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
She began tracing his soft, sensuous lips with her fingers. “A million times at least, but who’s counting?”
“I guess this makes a million and one.”
Lorelei looked at him with a concerned frown, and asked, “What’s wrong, suga’?”
“Lorelei,” he began, shifting his eyes away from hers. “There’s some business I have to take care of, so I won’t be here tonight.” He glanced up at the wall clock, then back down at her. “In fact, I’ll be leaving very shortly.”
“Business at night?” she asked curiously. “What kind of business would you have to take care of at night, darlin’? Isn’t it something Sean can handle for you?”
“Sean is helping me with it, honey. That’s why he called.”
“What is it?”
Griff hesitated. “I can’t tell you, Lorelei. I wish I could, but you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Griff,” Lorelei said, looking at him with a worried frown on her face. “Something’s wrong, and I want to know what it is.”
“I can’t say any more. Just—” His voice broke with emotion as he pulled her to him. “Just remember that I love you.”
“Griff, you’re scarin’ me.” She pulled out of his embrace and looked him in the eyes. “Is this something dangerous?”
“Dangerous?” He smiled weakly. “Not the way you mean. Excuse me, honey, there are some things I need to do before I leave.”
“Sure, darlin’,” Lorelei mumbled.
After Griff had closed and locked the door to his bedroom, he dropped the key on his dresser, then crossed the room and entered the large closet. Once he pushed back a row of clothes, he found the small wall safe, twisted a dial, and out of its shadowy darkness, he took several stacks of packaged bills and put them in a briefcase. As he looked down at the money, he saw his dream house, his unborn children, and his wife slip silently away from him. He didn’t care about the money. That could be replaced easily enough. It was the threats. If this bitch went to the press, it was over. A scandal like this would probably remove him from office, and Lorelei would never trust him again. He hated to think that because one filthy, cock-hungry little bitch wanted a fuck with the presidential seal on it, that he’d never be able to play football with his smiling, freckled faced children, or—he felt stupid even thinking about it—offer the hot, rumpled-up salesman walking up to his front door a cool glass of water.
When Griff thought of the salesman, he looked up and stared into the darkness. He knew exactly what the salesman would look like. He’d have a ready smile, twinkling blue eyes, and graying hair that was thin on top and always messy—windblown. He wouldn’t be tall, but not short either, and he’d have a little paunch of middle-aged dumpiness straining the waistband of his seersucker suit. Griff could see him sitting down on his large suitcase, fanning with one of the pleated fans he took from his small collection of merchandise. His tie was always askew, and sweat would constantly creep down into his shirt collar. Griff could hear him speak in a curling, sort of Scottish accent, and he could see the old man smiling at him as he took a white handkerchief out of his back pocket and began wiping his face and neck.
Where that picture came from, he didn’t know.
It’s a stupid dream anyway.
Hot, angry tears trickled down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly and closed the case, the latches catching noisily. Promptly getting up, he grabbed his jacket and walked out of his room. Lorelei looked at him, and he saw the concern on her face, but he clenched his teeth and remained silent. Before he left, he leaned down and kissed her, inhaling her pleasing scent, and his eyes lingered on her longingly. “I’ll see you... soon.”
“Will you?” she asked, refusing to let go of his hand. A worried frown etched her face.
Their gazes locked until he reluctantly pulled his hand out of hers and turned to go.
Griff ran from one leaning shadow to another, hoping he wouldn’t encounter any Secret Service men checking out the area. He glanced up and found himself looking into the gleaming black eye of a camera that he knew was flashing his departing figure on a screen in the basement. He hoped fervently that whoever was on duty tonight was too sleepy to keep a close watch. At last he came to the door that would take him down some stairs and into the basement. Before he pushed himself against the heavy barrier, he glanced around and saw another one-eyed monster.
Wasting no time, Griff quickly went through the heavy door and began making several leaps down the dark stairs. When he reached the bottom floor, he walked through a dark cement maze that seemed to go on forever. Along with hanging cobwebs, he saw pipes, large and small, and faces of dials with pointers that trembled slightly. And then he came to the door that would take him outside. He knew if he went through it, he would trigger an alarm, so he looked around. Up high, was a window almost completely hidden by boxes. There was the slightest chance that security might have missed the obscure little window, and no alarm would be connected to it. He didn’t know what would happen if he opened it, but he had to take the chance, since it was the only way out.
He began climbing, stepping carefully on a series of pipes, boxes and ragged ridges that only allowed the edges of his shoes to cling to them. Finally reaching the top, he leaned over and caught the rim of the window and hoisted himself up. At last balancing himself on the narrow edge, he unlocked it and raised the dirty glass slowly. He expected to hear some kind of siren go off, but when it didn’t, he pushed the upper half of his body through and found that he was only a foot off the ground. He grunted and groaned and stretched himself until he made it all the way out and stood crouching on the cold ground.
Taking a good look at the world outside, he saw only darkness interrupted by occasional headlights from passing cars and clumps of leafy silhouettes. He felt like he was crawling through a minefield, trying to dodge cameras as he hid in large, scratchy bushes. When he came to a separation in the brush, he stood and looked out at the big open s
pace ahead that would take him to the fence. From where he stood, the yard that always seemed to be of normal size before now loomed as wide and barren as the Sahara Desert. He looked around for a quick moment then ran as fast as he could. He had just reached the middle of the huge, gaping lawn when a sudden, loud, piercing siren sounded and spotlights wildly circled the yard.
Griff looked around in panic, feeling as if he were breaking out of prison. He almost expected shots to ring out and to see uniformed, gun-toting men swarming the yard, but surprisingly, he saw no one. He kept running and somehow managed to get across the wide-open area, climb the fence, and land feet first on Pennsylvania Avenue, his ankles tingling from the impact. He ran along the sidewalk like a common criminal. It had been so long since he’d been out without an escort that it felt strange, almost as if he were in a foreign country. Once he knew he was a safe distance from the White House, he stopped running and looked up and down the street for a taxi. When he spotted one, he ran out in traffic, lifted his hand, and flagged it down.
During the trip, he tried to keep his head down and was relieved when the cabby didn’t seem to recognize him. After all, who would expect the president to be out hailing a taxi?
* * * *
Hearing the screeching sirens, Lorelei ran to a window and saw the wildly circling spotlights scanning the yard. An agent burst into the room, and she turned from the window.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Yes. Did you find anything?”
“They’re still checking, but it looks like whoever it was got away.”
Lorelei breathed a little easier. “Well, you did the best you could.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was just a dog. Has that ever happened?”
“Once,” the agent said, as he looked around in corners and behind furniture. “A few years ago, a dog came in and kicked the alarm and all hell broke loose, like tonight.”
The Sweet Thief Page 15