He needed Diana in Diamond. He had to make contact with her.
With each passing day, Neil was pressuring Leo to quit. First a demotion, and now his co-workers were shunning him.
Leo couldn’t leave. Not until he knew how much PR50 Murdock’s cronies had produced, and, more importantly, how they planned to get rid of it. Suspicion tormented his gut. Leo had a hunch he already knew. Why else would an unmarked van have pulled up to the loading docks in the dead of night?
Lightning flashed, and branches scraped the window. The lights in the room dimmed, casting shadows, then returned to normal.
Leo tensed, on heightened alert.
His gaze fell again to the year book and the high school beauty. Maybe trying to disguise his identity had been a mistake. Maybe Diana believed his letter was a hoax. Perhaps he should try again, this time with a straightforward approach.
Leo slid open the desk’s middle drawer, withdrew a pen and paper and wrote:
Dear Diana. No. Too familiar. He shook his head, wadded up the stationery, tossed it in the trash, and began again. Dear Ms. Reid. Forgive my first unfortunate attempt to contact you. You may not remember me . . .
The rain continued its tirade, the branches their assault upon Leo’s window. The knocking and chattering against the pane intensified his edginess. But the rapping that sounded next wasn’t from the window, or his heart for that matter. A relentless pounding rattled the door.
Leo tasted bile. Stuffing the letter in his back pocket, he jumped to his feet and swallowed his fear. “Who’s there?”
“Leo! It’s me, Buddy. Open up, man. Neil sent me to find you. Murdock’s done it this time.”
Tears of relief welled in Leo’s eyes as his terror subsided. At last. They realized they needed him. They’d come to their senses.
Chapter Twelve
BRAD GRABBED Susan’s hand as they exited Dominic’s, her favorite restaurant in Diamond. Laughing, they covered their heads and raced toward his Navigator to escape the downpour. Tonight they’d reconnected, talked wedding dates, debated where they should live—topics he supposed most engaged couples discussed when they were moving toward marriage.
Afterward, they went back to her place and made love, a perfect end to their perfect evening together. He went to sleep holding her, until a lightning strike, followed by a roaring thunderclap, had jolted him awake.
He laid in bed, gathering his bearings, and from Sue’s bedroom window, watched the elements whip the branches outside. Maybe if he’d slept straight through, by morning he’d never have known. But he did know, and he struggled to breathe. Pain and regret lodged in his chest. He’d awoken dreaming of Diana.
In it, she’d been handing back his engagement ring, and as she had in real life, he’d gone after her. But in the dream, she no longer confessed to not loving him, she’d claimed she was in trouble. She’d been begging him for help when the thunder interrupted his sleep.
Dismissing the dream as pure craziness, he gazed at Susan dozing peacefully through the storm. The woman had the face of a goddess, and as he watched the rise and fall of her breasts, he thought of how much they’d grown as a couple. They wanted the same things, and she made him laugh. What’s more, she’d worked her ass off during his campaign.
He sat up, scrubbed his face, and wiped his damp brow. Then, planting his feet on the floor, he noted that the clock said a quarter ’til one. He grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and checked for messages.
So much for an update, Diana.
“Brad? What is it?” Susan’s voice was thick with sleep as she rose up on her elbows. “Why are you checking your phone?”
“I was expecting a message. Sorry, babe, breakfast meeting this morning and no change of clothes. I gotta go.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll wake you early, darling. Please stay.”
“Then we both lose out on sleep.” He guided her back down to the pillow. “Decide on a date, find a new place we can both live with, and I won’t have to leave.”
A yawn interrupted her smile. “Or we could move up the date.”
Brad leveled his gaze on her and felt the cold sweat from the dream return. What the hell was wrong with him? For months, he’d wanted to marry Susan, sooner rather than later. Four days ago, he would have welcomed this change of heart. “You’d give up that big church wedding you’ve been talking about?”
“I would, if it meant you’d stop skulking about at night. I’d also be willing to pare it down a bit.”
Laughing, he pushed the hair away from her face. “Let’s talk about this when you’re awake.”
“I am awake.”
“You’re semi-awake.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve never pared anything down in your life. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
Windshield wipers flapping on maximum, he drove through Diamond’s city limits, blown away by Susan’s about-face, and still stupidly fixed on that dream.
Of course he was worried about Diana. She was up to her neck in fraud and illegal trespassing. Worse, he’d become complicit in her actions. That was all his brain had been trying to tell him from that dream. That, and she hadn’t called as he’d demanded with a nightly check-in.
His early morning meeting concerned a water rate hike for the citizens of Diamond. It was going to be an ugly meeting, and it was in his best interest to be sharp and focused when he made his case.
Brad doggedly kept the Navigator trained toward the ranch. But the moment his headlights skimmed the intersection to County Road Five, he veered off in that direction. As if to protest his decision, the Navigator hydroplaned when he swerved.
“Don’t do it, Jordan,” he said. But when had his heart ever listened to his head? Brad headed south, toward the plant—in the direction of the Drifter’s Inn.
Arriving a few minutes later, he circled the sleazy motel, finding the adultery business booming and Diana’s rental car nowhere in sight. He scanned the area. Where was she? Had she decided on better accommodations? Or, as the dream had tried to warn him, was she up to something?
He drove out of the lot and parked in the same place he had on Friday. Then, cloaked by the rain and the darkness, he sat inside the Navigator and waited.
By one-thirty when she hadn’t appeared, Brad was as concerned as he was bleary-eyed. Despite lightning strikes and its partnering thunder, he exited the SUV and sprinted for the motel.
His footfalls vibrated when he reached the wood planking surrounding the building. He eased his stride. Susan hadn’t been far off when she accused Brad of skulking. Since Diana’s arrival, he’d done it on a daily basis. He reassured himself that he was merely protecting his interests. Still, his guilt ate at him.
He rapped on the door to room 111.
As expected, she didn’t answer.
The door was locked, but protected by a piece-of-crap knob. Along with the building’s notable lack of maintenance, the management didn’t worry about security. Hell, why would they? If burglars stole something, they’d probably bring it back.
Stepping back from the door, he looked both ways. Not a soul in sight. But based on the laughter emanating from an adjoining motel room, he was far from alone.
He tried the lock again and hung his head. If he did what he was contemplating, the mayor of Diamond would be guilty of breaking and entering. But then, who would press charges? The party animals next door? Diana?
Brad removed his credit card from his wallet, inserted it between the jamb and the door, and jimmied the plastic. With a final twist of the card, the door opened, and he was inside.
AT TWO-FIFTEEN, Diana drove into a space in front of the Drifter’s Inn, aware of two things: The rain and exhaustion had won the predawn battle, and she missed her camera crew. Surveillance was something she’d done often with their help. Alone, an
d after putting in an eight-hour day, no way could she keep up this routine night after night.
She switched off the ignition, and traced a hand over the aluminum case on the seat beside her. In it were the specialty items she’d purchased in Dallas. Night vision glasses, a handheld camcorder, a camera, and telephoto lens—the surveillance equipment had cost her a few months’ salary.
She leaned against the headrest, praying the expense had been worth it. In foot-long mud and grass, she’d lain on her stomach and clicked pictures of license plates of what, based on the time, she suspected were simply third-shift workers leaving the plant. Water had poured off her black slicker like the back of a duck, and with the exception of anticipated cars and trucks passing through the guard gate, she’d seen nothing.
She refused to focus on her disappointment, however. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to drop into bed and sleep. Sleep. What a wonderful concept.
Fighting the rain splashing her face, she locked the equipment in the trunk of her rental car and ran for her motel room.
Inside her not-so-sweet home away from home, she flipped on the lights, nearly tripping over the trashcan she’d used to catch the leak. The container had filled with several inches of water while she was gone. Mumbling that even Mother Nature was out to get her, Diana flung the contents into the parking lot.
Locking up for a second time, she looked longingly toward the bed and stalked into the bathroom to strip off the slicker. She never got the chance. At the note taped to the mirror, she almost released her bladder.
Minutes later, Brad’s crumpled letter in hand, Diana yanked open the door.
He entered without so much as a “May I come in?” and whirled to face her. “Where have you been?”
The message he’d left in the bathroom had stated, call me the second you get in. Naturally, she had. But he’d arrived so fast, he must’ve been parked nearby. She glanced outside before closing the door. “You broke into my room? You’ve been waiting for me?” Diana asked, gaping at him.
“You thought I asked for a nightly report for my health? Hell, yes, I’ve been waiting for you. You don’t answer your phone. You don’t respond to my texts. What did you expect me to do?” Suddenly, he paused and looked her over from head to toe.
She shifted uneasily and folded her arms.
The muscles in his jaw worked. “Okay, 007, out with it.”
She hadn’t had time to change, dammit. Mud covered her black leggings and boots. Her matching turtleneck was still damp from the grassy field. She shook her head. “I’ve been watching the plant.”
“You’ve what?”
She sighed. “It occurred to me that whatever’s going on might happen at night. When I was scouting the area Friday morning, I found a ridge that overlooks the compound.”
Brad’s shocked countenance turned to fear. “Jordan has security teams, Diana. They patrol the plant’s outer perimeter.”
“I know. I saw them. That’s why I parked a ways out and hiked to the place I eventually settled on.”
Pacing the hotel room, he stopped at the trashcan collecting water. He looked up, then focused on her in dismay. “You’re crazy, do you know that? Living like this, putting yourself in these . . . situations.” His gaze eventually fell on the Styrofoam bust holding her short auburn wig, and he shook his head. “This has gone far enough. Someone’s going to get hurt. And I’m not going to be responsible. You’re leaving.”
Diana gasped. “You said two weeks.”
“That’s before I knew you had a death wish and wanted to get yourself killed.” He held out his hands. “I know the ridge you’re talking about. I’ve also met some of the members of our so-called security team. Some are Dirty Harry wannabes. I wouldn’t put it past them to shoot first, think later. You’re outta here.”
Trapped, Diana stared back at Brad. He wasn’t like Marty who she could occasionally convert to her position. Once Brad made up his mind, he generally stuck to it. Aware this was a battle she couldn’t win, she drew a deep breath. “All right.”
“All right? That’s it?” He frowned. “You’ll leave without argument?”
She sighed. “I’m too tired to fight with you anymore, and what you say makes sense. I’ll go. Have a nice life.” She traversed the room to the dresser, removing the first drawer’s contents, feeling his gaze follow her with every move.
He sat on the bed. “You could tell me what went wrong before you go.”
Diana stiffened. How she wanted that. She wanted to tell him the truth more than anything. She pictured his outrage, her vindication, then Clayton Jordan’s comeuppance—telling the world about that file simply because he was evil, and because he’d sworn that he would. Diana couldn’t have felt more pain than if someone had plunged a knife between her shoulder blades.
“I told you why I wanted out a long time ago,” she said coldly. “Why dredge up the past?”
She unzipped her suitcase and spread it open. Tossing her wig and glasses inside, she surveyed the room and froze.
The locket.
It lay on the nightstand mere inches from Brad.
She sidestepped him. “Excuse me. I need to get some things out of this drawer.” She pulled it open, gathered the notebook inside and slid the necklace between the pages.
“What have you got there?”
“My notebook.” She felt her heart thud. “What’s wrong with you?”
He grabbed the notebook from her grasp and turned to the bulge in its pages.
Diana focused on his collarbone as he held up the locket and examined it.
Knowing damn well he recognized its significance, she pivoted, tugged at the second drawer, and took out her jeans.
A moment later, he moved to her side. “When you left, you said you didn’t love me anymore.” He’d opened the locket revealing their younger images. “If that’s true, why’d you keep my picture?”
Tears stung her eyes. Memories of their years together clogged her throat. Up until she’d met Clayton Jordan, she hadn’t known what hate was. In that second, Brad’s grandfather defined the word. By blackmailing Diana into leaving, he’d not only wrecked her life, he’d destroyed a piece of his grandson’s happiness as well.
“It’s my favorite piece of jewelry. I must have forgotten our pictures were in there.” She’d never made a more inane comment and resisted a wince. “I’ll give it back if you like.”
Brad returned a dumbfounded stare.
“Thanks for reminding me. I’ll remember to take those out. If you’ll leave, I’ll finish packing.”
Chapter Thirteen
“THE WHOLE DAMN library?” Earl Johnson roared.
“The whole damn library,” Brad replied evenly to the irate father standing on the opposite side of his desk.
Brad’s day had begun too early. He’d existed on less than three hours of sleep. He’d survived a seven a.m. meeting full of angry taxpayers, and now he had to deal with a Texas-sized raving lunatic.
He knew mayors dealt with their share of petty grievances. But in Brad’s mind, what Earl’s son—and his without-a-lick-of-sense friends—had done was far from insignificant.
Hands on hips, Earl inhaled deeply, his substantial paunch shrinking then expanding. “Look, Jordan, you know how boys are. They get into scrapes every now and again.”
“Don’t I know it,” Brad agreed, leaning back in his chair, elbows behind his head, and offering Earl a slight smile.
Earl obviously sensed capitulation and grinned. “Then surely you’re not going to make Earl Jr. risk a scholarship to A&M by wasting time painting a library? My son needs to be at practice.”
“That’s just it.” Brad’s smile faded, and he brought his arms forward. “I don’t consider it a waste of time. Those boys, or anyone else for that matter, are going to think twice bef
ore damaging public property again.”
Even Earl’s ears turned red. “I seem to remember you got into a few scuffles when you were a boy, Mr. Mayor.”
Brad stared up at the man ten years his senior. “Never claimed to be perfect.”
“Diamond’s water tower,” Earl spat. “You and your football pals got caught painting it.”
Indeed they had. And Brad’s father had bought the paint for the boys to restore it, and afterward, Brad had spent a large part of his summer taking on extra chores around the ranch to make amends.
But what Earl’s son and his friends had done went beyond mischief. They’d turned violent and broken most of the Diamond Public Library’s windows. Earl Jr. had been the ringleader, and the police had found alcohol in his car, as well as a container of gasoline.
Brad shuddered at the havoc the teens might have wreaked if the police hadn’t intervened.
Lumbering around Brad’s office, Earl Sr. continued his rant. With Brad’s mind already set, as well as garbled in turmoil, he easily tuned the man out.
Susan was ready to set a date. Brad owed her everything. She’d been there for him. He’d given his word.
So, why had a glimmer of hope shot through him when he’d discovered Diana with the locket? Of course, she’d instantly crushed those expectations, claiming she’d merely forgotten to take out his picture.
Brad grimaced at the memory. No one could be that absentminded. Besides, call him vain, but he didn’t know a woman alive who would keep a man’s picture close to her heart when she’d chosen to move on with her life.
“All right, Jordan,” Earl said. “How much?”
Drawn back into the business at hand, Brad discovered that Earl had pulled out his checkbook. The owner of two lumberyards, he often used money to solve his problems.
Odd, but Earl’s more reasonable tone had gotten Brad’s attention. “I beg your pardon?”
“How much to paint the damn library? Me and the other parents already made restitution. But if the library needs a coat of paint—”
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