Seduced by the Enemy (Blaze, 41)

by Jamie Denton

  Jared glanced her way again and graced her with one of those smiles that had her heart pounding a little bit faster. Just as he’d always done. “Anything else?”

  She had a list for him. Stop smiling at her, which only added to her confusion. Stop looking at her as if he could read her every thought, especially the wicked ones. And dammit, stop taking center stage in her fantasies. He’d been fired from that position a long time ago and there were no openings.

  “Yes, as a mater of fact. A hot shower, Chinese takeout, with my very own carton of fried rice that I refuse to share, and sole possession of the remote control.”

  “The rice I’ll give you. But the remote and hot shower will have to wait until we get to the cottage, sweetheart.”

  So much for her firm, no-nonsense talking to, she thought. One sexy grin with an endearment tossed in for good measure and her lips were twitching as she tried, and failed, to hold back a smile of her own. “Considering what you’ve put me through so far, I’d say you’re getting off easy, G-man.”

  As they neared the final tollbooth that would take them into Pittsburgh, his expression sobered. Too late, she realized what she’d called him.

  “I’m sorry, Jared,” she said, feeling a stab of guilt at the reference to his former profession. The profession that had been stolen from him? she wondered.

  He shrugged and slowed the vehicle behind the line of cars ahead of them. “Don’t sweat it.”

  “Do you miss it?” she asked him. Of course he did, she thought. What a stupid question. Jared had been one of the lucky ones who truly loved his job and all that came with it—crappy assignments, dangerous encounters, everything.

  Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity.

  The bureau’s motto was as much a part of him as her own oath to uphold the law was to her.

  Oh, my God. The magnitude of her realization struck her hard. Jared could no more be guilty of the crimes they were accused of committing than she was. He’d lived and breathed his job as an agent, been one of the best. She knew him better than most people, understood his beliefs and his prejudices.

  Granted, she didn’t know many of the details other than what she’d been shown by the agents who’d convinced her she had no choice but to help them bring Jared into custody, but once they were settled at the cottage in Maine, they’d be able to spend time and go over every aspect of the case. She had questions, lots of them, but if she’d learned anything from her years with the Justice Department, it was how to build a rock-solid case. More importantly, she knew how to weaken a defense. All she had to do was find a hole in the evidence, something as small as a vague inequity, and maybe they’d find a way out of this nightmare.

  “How would you feel if you suddenly couldn’t practice law?” he asked her.

  If things didn’t improve, and quickly, she suspected she just might end up with firsthand knowledge. “Lost,” she answered truthfully. “Like I no longer had a purpose in life.”

  He eased forward in the line. “Then you have your answer, don’t you?”

  Yes, she did, and while the bitterness of her betrayal still stung, it only compounded the guilt nudging her because she’d doubted his innocence. It would be her cross to bear, she realized, but at least she had the power to do her part in rectifying the situation. She had paltry control, but a semblance of it was better than floating around in a void with nothing but a sense of helplessness.

  She hoped.

  “For the sake of argument, let’s assume we can clear our names. What happens then, Jared? Do you go back to the bureau and pick up where you left off? Would you even want to be associated with an organization that’s done this to you?”

  “You wouldn’t think so, but yes, I would.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. “It’s not the bureau that’s bad, Peyton. There’s someone high in the ranks using it for his own ends. Senator Phipps has someone on the inside deep in his pocket. It’s my guess he’s the one pulling all, or most, of the strings.”

  She would have once thought such a statement ludicrous, but after what she’d seen, heard and experienced for herself, she’d lost the luxury of naiveté.

  The connection to the senator made perfect sense, she realized. Since Jared never talked about his job, she had no idea he’d been investigating Phipps.

  “Do you have something more than just circumstantial evidence?” she asked.

  “Just a hunch.”

  She knew him better than that. Besides, people on the lam couldn’t afford hunches. That had to be damned certain.

  Erring on the side of caution, she decided to wait until they passed through the tollbooth before contradicting him. At each manned booth they’d passed, so far, nothing out of the ordinary had halted their progress, which she took as a good sign. Still, she half expected the cops to come racing after them every time, but the attendants didn’t so much as even look at them directly.

  Jared pulled up to the booth, rolled down the window and extended the cash toward the attendant.

  “I need to see some ID.”

  Peyton’s heart stopped at the attendant’s surly demand. This was it. The jig was up. Any second now they would be surrounded by federal agents.

  Cool as cotton, Jared reached behind him and pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “Is there a problem?”

  The short, stout man nodded. “Oh, yeah, there’s a problem all right. With all this stepped-up security, we’re supposed to do random ID checks. Customers are complaining left and right. Like it’s my fault.”

  “I hear you,” Jared said, handing over an Ohio driver’s license. “Bureaucracy’s a bitch.”

  The attendant chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth? So where you headed?”

  “Pittsburgh,” Jared lied smoothly.

  Peyton held her breath as the guard looked closely at the fake ID, then back at Jared.

  After what felt like an eternity, he handed Jared the license and took the fee for the toll. “Enjoy your stay,” the attendant said, before waving them through.

  Not until they were past the tollbooth and were heading toward the exit ramp did Peyton begin to relax, as much as was possible given the circumstances.

  “That was close,” she said. “Too close.”

  “It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Jared answered. “We’ve been lucky so far.”

  “Yes, well, let’s just continue to hope our luck holds, because I don’t think I could take another one of those random checks.”

  Jared glanced quickly in her direction. “What were we talking about?”

  She wasn’t fooled by his blatant attempt to steer the conversation away from the scare she’d just received. And like a gullible child, she snapped up the opportunity to change the subject.

  “I was about to tell you that I have a hunch, too, and it says you’re not being completely honest with me.”

  “You’re right.” He kept his attention on the roadway. “There’s still a lot you don’t know.”

  Based on their history, a part of her understood his reluctance to share information with her. Like it or not, though, they were in this together. “Then it’s time you tell me, Jared. You can’t keep me in the dark forever.”

  He steered the Expedition toward an off-ramp for Boulevard of the Allies before glancing her way again. His eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “I think we’d both be better off if you trusted me and let me do this my way.”

  She let out a deep breath slowly. There was only one way she knew of that would allow her to formulate at least a semblance of control—face her troubles with her eyes wide open. “You’re going to need my help,” she said. “I’m going to need to know everything you know, and as much of what they know, as possible. We can’t fight if you keep me in the dark.”

  He didn’t answer, but he didn’t object, either, as he made a right on Jumonville Street. For once his silence gave her a small shred of hope.

  A lot of baggage existed between them. Whether or not, wi
th everything else going on around them, they’d have the energy to wade through the past, she couldn’t say. She certainly had no burning desire to venture back into territory filled with heartache, betrayal and a loss so deep she’d carry it with her for the rest of her life. Still, she knew that until they did take that journey—together—trust could never fully exist.

  And without it, they were as good as dead.

  THE LADIES’ ROOM of the minimart in downtown Pittsburgh was a far cry from even the low-cost motel room they’d stayed in the other night, but Peyton was still grateful for the stolen moments of privacy so she could take care of a few pressing matters.

  She dried her hands on the scratchy paper towels provided, double-checked the lock on the heavy metal door and dug her cell phone out of her purse. If she was lucky, she had at least ten minutes before Jared returned from the all-night Chinese restaurant across the street, which would give her just enough time to place a call to Kellie and one to Leland.

  She understood she was taking a huge risk, since she had no idea if anyone would be monitoring Kellie’s and Leland’s telephones. But by using her cell phone, the worst she would do was give those looking for them a generalized location. She took comfort in the fact that in a city the size of Pittsburgh, where cell phone users easily numbered in the tens of thousands, if not more, tracking her and Jared could take hours. Precious hours, in which they’d be long gone before anyone had the opportunity to narrow the search to as much as a one-mile radius.

  At the very least, she had to reach Kellie to let her know she wouldn’t be in the office Monday morning and that someone else had to handle the Howell motion. If the prosecution was a no-show at the hearing, defense’s motion would be granted and Howell would walk. Chances were pretty good that Kellie had already heard the news, but Peyton couldn’t operate under the assumption that her assistant had seen the news report and automatically assume she’d gone on the run with Jared.

  She turned on the cell phone and luckily had a connection, so she dialed Kellie’s home number. Her hands trembled and her heart pounded. She hoped Kellie was back from her weekend visit with her family, but when the answering machine picked up on the second ring, that hope was dashed.

  Peyton hesitated for a moment, not knowing quite what to say. She couldn’t stay on the line for more than a minute in case they already had a wiretap on Kellie’s line.

  “Kel, it’s me. You need to find someone to fill in on Howell Monday morning. I can’t explain right now, but I’m all right.” She paused. “Don’t believe everything you hear, okay? I’ll try to be in touch later, but no promises.”

  She disconnected the call and dropped her head against the cool ceramic-tiled wall of the public rest room, willing her hands to stop shaking. Dammit, she shouldn’t have called. What if she put Kellie’s life in danger? She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to her best friend.

  Maybe she shouldn’t risk a call to Leland. When he returned from his judges conference tomorrow night, if he couldn’t reach her, he might try Kellie. But did she really want to leave that to chance? He was her fiancé, after all. Didn’t he deserve to hear directly from her that she was at least relatively safe, under the circumstances? And what about her need to simply hear his voice? To hear the smooth, rich tones that would calm her and let her put everything into its proper perspective?

  She checked her watch. Time was running out. Jared would be returning any minute now with their evening meal. The last thing she wanted was to be caught using her cell phone.

  She straightened and quickly dialed Leland’s number. As she suspected, his answering machine picked up the call, and within seconds she heard his deep voice. A voice she’d hoped would soothe her, but failed miserably.

  “Leland, it’s me. I can’t explain what’s going on, but I want you to know I’m safe. For now.”

  How much he might know at this point was hard to guess, but considering she’d had her picture plastered on the national news, chances were pretty good he suspected that something completely out of the ordinary was going on in her life.

  “It’s not true, Leland. None of what they’re saying is true. You have to believe me, because my word is all I have left at this point.”

  A loud pounding on the door made her nearly jump across the cramped space. Her nerves were frazzled, no doubt about it.

  “Peyton? You in there?”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Jared.

  “I’ll be right out,” she called to him. “Just give me a minute.”

  “Make it a quick one,” he ordered impatiently.

  He fell silent, but was he listening on the other side? She couldn’t be sure, so she turned away from the door and lowered her voice. “I’ll try to be in touch,” she whispered, “but I don’t know if I can call again. I…”

  I what? she thought. Love you? The words wouldn’t come. Not that they’d ever fallen easily from her lips, but now they were so deeply lodged in her throat she nearly choked on them.

  With nothing else to say, she whispered, “Goodbye, Leland,” and disconnected the call.

  She turned off her cell phone, wincing when it beeped, and tucked it in the bottom of her purse before leaving the relative sanctity of the rest room. As she stepped out into the chilly night air, she barely avoided colliding with Jared. From the look in his eyes, it wasn’t a stretch to deduce she was facing a very angry man, who had quite possibly overheard her one-sided conversation.

  “You want to tell me what the hell you think you’re doing?” His voice may have been composed, but the anger flaring to life in his eyes told a whole other story.

  She sidestepped him and headed toward the truck. He dogged her heels. “Since I was in the bathroom, I think it’d be obvious.”

  “Oh, it was obvious all right,” he said, opening the door for her. “Obvious that you’re trying to get us killed.”

  “You know as well as I do that the technology for tracking cell phone users to their exact location is a long way from being perfected.”

  “Perfected, yes. But thanks to your little stunt, they’re going to know we’re not in Virginia.”

  Guilt had her looking away to avoid his accusing gaze as she climbed inside the truck. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She’d made a mistake.

  A stupid one that could very well cost them their lives, all because she’d been desperate to find comfort where none was to be found. And that had her worried more than the bastards who were after them.

  LATE SATURDAY NIGHT, Steve waited in the elegant foyer of the senator’s penthouse apartment while the maid announced his arrival. Judging by the hour, he expected the senator and his wife would be enjoying a nightcap, perhaps a cognac or an almond liqueur. Always the perfect hostess, Mrs. Phipps would insist he join them, an invitation he would very graciously decline. He had urgent business with the senator that was bound to give the old man a nasty case of indigestion.

  The maid returned and ushered him directly into the study. A single desk lamp dimly lit the masculine room, which smelled of freshly smoked pipe tobacco and worn, comfortable leather. Steve’s own apartment, while expensive and professionally decorated, lacked the old-world charm of the senator’s domain. One day, Steve planned to have a room just like this one, one filled with leather-bound first editions, commissioned art, expensive but tasteful furnishings and gleaming brass accent pieces. A place where he would sit in wait for his own personal lackey to deliver important news that had the ability to change the course of history.

  With a glass of the finest crystal in his hand, the senator sat on the end of the hunter-green leather sofa. A decanter of top-quality whiskey rested on the mahogany end table. “I take it you have news.”

  Steve crossed the rich, dark Oriental rug to hand the senator the file containing the latest information. “As we suspected, they’re together.”

  Phipps took the file and tossed it on the sofa without opening it. “This is not what I’d hoped to hear, Radcliff
e.”

  “I know, Senator. Our people are working on it.”

  Phipps polished off the whiskey in his glass, then poured himself another. “Our people aren’t doing such a good job. It’s been twenty-four hours, Radcliffe. How hard can it be to find a couple of criminals in this town?”

  The senator had a point, except Romine and Douglas weren’t technically criminals. However, only a handful of people were aware of that minor detail. Expendable people.

  “Until an hour ago, the last activity we showed was at a motel in southern Virginia, yesterday morning. The motel has been checked out, but our people came up empty-handed. There’s a possibility they never used the room, but only rented it as a decoy.”

  “I don’t pay you for possibilities, Radcliffe. I pay you for certainties.”

  “I just got word there’s been some activity. A handful of select agents are responding as we speak.”

  “Do they know what to do?”

  “But of course, Senator.” Steve smiled. “Shoot first and ask questions later.”

  8

  SUNNY DIDN’T MUCH BELIEVE in coincidences. And while she wasn’t one to believe in signs, omens or karma, even she had to admit someone had her number as far as strange and unusual occurrences were concerned today.

  Not ten minutes after she’d arrived home from a fabulous day at her parents’ place, her beeper had sounded. The fact that she’d been called in to work a bust really wasn’t all that unusual. Depending upon priority, any available agent could be called to assist if necessary. But the fact that two hours later she was hunkered down in front an old Chevy Malibu next to Gibson Russell, the director of the D.C. office, definitely qualified as an out of the ordinary assignment—her second in the same day. Especially since they were waiting for word to move in on Jared Romine and Peyton Douglas.

  She’d been summoned to the office around ten o’clock with five other agents she recognized but had never worked with, to play the hurry-up-and-wait game until Special Agent Russell passed along what information they needed to know, then ordered them to move out. The fact that Gib, as he was known to only the most senior of agents, had accompanied them, also ranked high on her growing list of strange and unusual occurrences.