by Cindy Dees
Tom pressed the crack he’d created in the journalists’ hostility. “For ten years I’ve stonewalled even the most basic of interviews, and you think I’d arm any reporter with that kind of ammunition?” He laughed. “You think I’d get naked with one of you guys?”
That did it. The media frenzy was broken. Laughter and ribald jokes flew back and forth between Tom and the reporters. The Medusas, reading the situation correctly, let the jocularity flow for just long enough to relax the crowd, and then they resumed pushing through the crowd, apologizing pleasantly as they basically bulldozed an opening for Tom to escape.
Paige would have followed along in their wake, but a familiar voice barked her name above the general din. Her boss, Greer Carson. Oh, Lord.
She turned and made her way to him, waving off the avalanche of questions still being hurled at her.
“In here.” Greer held open the door to their temporary broadcast bureau for her. She slipped past him and sighed in relief as Greer shut out the din in the lobby.
“You okay?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Yeah. Fine.” Truth be told, she was reeling and felt like she’d just taken a few good body blows.
“Anything happen between you and Rowe last night?”
“Nothing that’s anyone’s business.”
“Are you compromised for reporting on him and the summit?”
“No!” She blurted it out automatically, but a twinge in her gut made her wonder if she was telling the truth.
“Good. Now then, we’ve got some damage control to do. Rowe did his part to quiet the rumors, but now you’ve got to do your part.”
“Fair enough. What have you got in mind, boss?”
“Something about Rowe. Hard-hitting. Tough. Something that’ll shut up the critics who say you two have got a thing going on.”
Her innards twisted. Tom would be furious with her. He’d accuse her of taking unfair advantage of their personal relationship to pillory him. And he’d be right. She opened her mouth to protest Greer’s instructions, but reason kicked in, stopping her. Tom had just stated unequivocally, for all the world to hear, that she and he had no personal relationship.
She closed her mouth. Nodded. Then said, “I’ve got just the angle. It’s huge. I wasn’t sure about going public with it, but I think it’s time. Are you aware that Takashi Ando is dead?”
“Whaaat?” Greer squawked. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. Interesting that two attempts have been made on Tom Rowe’s life, as well, eh?”
“Why isn’t this the biggest news of the entire conference? Why the hell didn’t you say something about it before now?”
“The local police asked me to hold off reporting it to give them time to notify Mimi Ando and Takashi’s sons. But I’d say it’s safe to go public now.”
“Get me documentation. I’d hate to be wrong on this one.”
“And when I’ve got it?”
“Hell, I’ll break you in to the live broadcast stateside. This will be a sensation! What a scoop!”
She didn’t exactly share his jubilation, but she did share his determination to break the story before anyone else. She went to one of the telephones arrayed on a table in the corner and picked up the handset. An operator came on the line.
“I need to speak to the police,” Paige said.
In about two minutes, she had her confirmation that Ando’s family had been notified, and that the Japanese tycoon’s death had been ruled questionable. The officer on the other end of the line didn’t sound thrilled that she knew about Ando. They must still be trying to keep it under wraps. Too bad for them. She rolled her chair down the table to a computer and banged out a fast story. As long as she didn’t tie the shootings to the summit, it should be okay to report them. The trick would be to spin the story as a lurid love triangle gone wrong. She hit the print button and headed for her makeup table.
“Check the copy while I do my face, Carson.”
Her boss was doing the two-phones-at-once thing again, but he had enough spare attention to shoot her a thumbs-up and move toward the printer.
Before she could second-guess herself, before she had time to think better of it, she found herself seated before a camera. Its red light went on. Her last thought before the teleprompter started to scroll was that Tom was going to kill her.
“This is Paige Ellis reporting from the Global Economic Summit with breaking news. Amid rumors of a massive feud between billionaires over a former high-fashion model’s affections, it has been confirmed this morning that Takashi Ando has died. Police are investigating the suspicious nature of the Japanese billionaire’s death. Meanwhile, American billionaire Tom Rowe has twice evaded gunmen’s attempts to kill him in as many days. Ando was married to French model Mimi Anoux, and Rowe was romantically involved with her for several years prior to Mimi’s marriage to Ando. Officials wonder if there is a link between Ando’s death and Rowe’s near-death. When asked to comment upon it, British billionaire Jeremy Smythe, a close associate of both Ando and Rowe, was not available. Sex, scandal, shootings—this story will be one we definitely continue to follow as it unfolds.”
The red light went off and she pushed back from the desk.
There. Let’s see what Tom makes of that.
Chapter 12
Within two minutes of her story hitting the airwaves, Paige’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out—Aleesha Gautier’s number. “Hi, Mamba. What’s up?” Paige asked.
A male—and outraged—voice exploded in her ear. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Not Mamba. Tom. He must have borrowed her teammate’s cell phone to call Paige. Her jaw tightened. “If you have a comment about a story my network runs, you’ll need to speak to my producer. Here. Let me pass you to him.”
“I don’t want to talk to—”
She lifted the phone away from her ear and handed it to Greer. “It’s Rowe. He’s not a happy camper.”
Her boss shrugged. “He’s never a happy camper if his name appears on the air.”
She suspected Tom was a little beyond unhappy, but Carson would figure that out soon enough. “I’ve got someplace to go. I’ll stop by in a while to pick up my cell phone. Enjoy chatting with Mr. Rowe.”
Carson lifted the phone to his ear, and then jerked it away as Tom commenced expressing his opinion—loudly—of the breaking news piece World News had just run.
Paige grinned and ducked out before she could get roped back into the fracas. “Toodles,” she called over her shoulder as she all but ran from the bureau.
She made for a house phone and called Casey Chandler, a former FBI agent and one of the Medusas who’d come on this mission. “Hey, Scorpion. It’s Fire Ant.”
Casey answered, “Ah, the prodigal child herself. You’ve got Rowe pretty riled up. His assistant called him a few minutes ago to tell him about your little story, and he’s been yelling ever since.”
“Yeah, well, he can get over it. Where are you guys right now?”
“Aleesha, Alex, Monica and Cho have just taken him to a meeting with the American delegation. The rest of us will be waiting in his suite, hoping you’ll take time out from your busy broadcast schedule to give us an in-briefing.”
“How long is Tom going to be tied up at that meeting?”
“Just a sec.” Casey went off the line for a moment. “Gretchen says it’s scheduled to run at least an hour. She suggests you not be here when he gets back.”
Paige laughed under her breath. It might almost be worth sticking around to see him apoplectic. “I’m on my way up.”
When she stepped into Tom’s suite, her three remaining teammates, Casey, Roxi and Naraya, were arrayed around the room, poking behind furniture and curtains, obviously doing a security sweep of the space.
Paige commented without elaborating, “I did this room yesterday. And Rowe’s bedroom and bathroom.”
The women looked up, speculative looks on their faces as they obviously pondered how
she’d gotten access to Rowe’s bedroom, but no one asked.
“Paige. You’re looking good,” Roxi Gianello com mented.
Paige grinned at the fashion stylist turned commando. “You’re just not used to seeing me wear makeup other than green grease paint.”
“Really. You don’t clean up half-bad,” Roxi commented then laughed.
Coming from someone who’d dressed the stars for years, she’d take that as a compliment. “I assume Mamba’s heading up this dog-and-pony show?”
Aleesha Gautier was one of the senior members of the Medusa Project. She would be the logical choice to lead the rookie squad of six women special operators she’d brought with her to the island.
The other women gathered around Paige as she sat down on one of the matching sofas. “That’s affirmative,” Casey answered. “Mamba brought us all to get our feet wet in the field.”
Paige grinned. “So, the gang’s all here. How cool is that?” It felt good to be reunited with her teammates of the past two years. They’d been to hell and back together en route to becoming full-fledged Medusas.
Roxi leaned forward. “What’s going on around here? You say some Japanese billionaire is dead and now someone’s trying to kill Rowe?”
Paige nodded. “That’s about it. An anonymous party has approached the three private citizen billionaires attending this conference, and who knows who else, and offered them a chance to bid on upwards of a hundred billion dollars’ worth of assets for a few cents on the dollar. And now two of those buyers are dead or under fire, and a third potential buyer is hiding under heavy guard.”
Naraya El Saad, the team’s resident Ph.D. in mathematics and cryptography commented quietly, “It sounds like one of the possible buyers is trying to eliminate the competition.”
Casey piped up. “Who has this deal been offered to?”
Paige sighed. “Tom doesn’t know. Smythe speculated that several more people had been approached when I spoke to him yesterday.”
“But neither man knows who the seller is,” Casey guessed.
“That’s correct,” Paige answered.
Naraya leaned forward. “Can you get me all the particulars that Mr. Rowe does know about the assets being offered? Perhaps we can analyze the data and narrow down a list of possible sellers.”
Paige turned to the brilliant woman. “And what good will that do us?”
“Well, the seller can’t like having the bidders for his prize dying off. The less bidders, the less money he’ll make. If we can figure out who he is, he might be willing to tell us everyone he made the offer to. Then, if nothing else, we’ll have a list of targets around whom we can concentrate our attention.”
As always, Naraya’s logic was flawless.
Paige glanced over at Gretchen, who was sitting in the corner in front of a computer, ignoring Paige’s existence. Loyal to her boss, apparently. “Hey, Gretchen. Any chance you can give us some information? It might help us catch the person or persons who are trying to kill Tom.”
The woman thawed considerably at that. And, in a matter of minutes, Gretchen and Naraya were seated in front of the computer surfing the Internet to find entities whose holdings matched those offered in the sale.
Paige turned to her remaining colleagues. “What’s the plan for guarding Tom?”
Casey answered, “We’re alternating. Mamba, Alex, Monica and Cho with Roxi, Naraya and me. I’ll be team lead on the second shift since I’ve got field experience with personal protection details. We’ll run six-hour shifts. Off-duty team members take turns sleeping and doing perimeter checks. Standard stuff. We’ll run the op out of this room. This summit won’t be too hard to cover. The conference security isn’t great, but it does some of the work for us.”
Paige let out the breath she’d been holding. “So I’m completely off the rotation?”
Casey’s eyebrow arched. “Do you want into it?”
“No, no,” Paige replied hastily. “I was just making sure.”
Casey studied her closely. “What’s going on between you and him?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. We basically hate each other’s guts. He’s an arrogant, spoiled, billionaire bad boy, and I’m a television reporter. In his world, that puts me just shy of the Antichrist.” And last night had been a complete anomaly. Nothing more than a temporary truce.
Casey laughed. “Got it. I knew I picked up on some tension between you two down at that press circus we walked into earlier.”
Paige commented wryly, “That’s putting it mildly.”
The phone rang and Gretchen picked it up. She listened for a moment, then announced, “Miss Ellis, Mr. Rowe’s meeting just adjourned. If you don’t want to…encounter him…you might want to leave now.”
Not. “Thanks, Gretchen.” Paige stood to leave. “I’m going downstairs to retrieve my cell phone. In about five minutes, you’ll be able to give me a call if you need anything.”
“Will do,” Casey replied cheerfully. “We’ve got things under control. You go do your reporter thing.”
Paige grinned and made her exit. She really wasn’t in any hurry to see Tom again. In fact, she could happily delay that moment for, oh, ten years or so. She stepped into the elevator, and it whisked her downward. In the moment of privacy, she let down her defenses enough for the hurt to seep into her awareness. He hadn’t wasted a second dumping her. The very minute the Medusas showed up to take over guarding him, he’d run screaming from her. Well, figuratively, at least. He’d denied having anything personal to do with her with all the vehemence of a wrongly condemned man.
The elevator decelerated.
So be it.
She’d been an idiot to let herself fall for him. It was her mistake, not his. She’d go on with her life, lick her wounds in private, and do her damnedest not to dwell on what could have been between them. Although she had a sneaking suspicion this guy wasn’t going to be that easy to get over. Oh, well. Too late now.
The elevator stopped, the door opened and she looked up.
Into the one face she really, really didn’t want to see.
Tom.
Glaring at her.
He was surrounded by her teammates, and several American diplomats stood nearby. She greeted him evenly—she hoped. “Mr. Rowe.”
Instead of speaking to her, he turned his head fractionally toward Monica. “I’ll wait while you clear out the elevator and secure it from any riffraff.”
Riffraff? Was that all she was to him now? Riffraff? Her gaze narrowed. She stepped forward, brushing past Aleesha on Tom’s left. “Jerk,” she said under her breath. She hoped he heard her.
Tom scowled at the elevator door as it slid closed between him and Paige. What was wrong with her? They’d spent such a fantastic night together. And he meant that above and beyond the best sex he’d had in years. And then this.
How could she have made that report? How could she have exposed the deal, knowing that it would endanger not only him, but also Smythe? It could drive both the seller and the would-be killer underground. The shooter could very well decide to bide his time and strike at a later date with less security than this conference and when the potential buyers were more vulnerable.
And breaking the story of Ando’s death? How could she do that to Takashi’s family? They had to be devastated, and she’d callously dragged their loss out into the public spotlight. He’d thought she was a better person than that, dammit. Sure, it would’ve hit the airways eventually, but why did it have to be her who did it?
He didn’t know whether to be furious or deeply disappointed in her. As the elevator door slid shut on that familiar, feminine shape and confident stride moving away from him, he settled on disgusted.
“She give you any trouble before we got here?” Aleesha Gautier murmured from beside him.
Damned Medusas. Too perceptive for their own good, they were. “Not too much.”
“She do anything to mess up the op?”
“Not until that news report she fire
d off an hour ago.”
Thankfully the Medusa team leader was silent for the rest of the elevator ride and throughout the graceful dance that was moving a principal to a hotel room. But she didn’t leave it alone when he was safely tucked into his suite.
“How did Paige’s report mess up this op?” the Jamaican woman asked.
He was vividly aware of eight pairs of shrewd female eyes measuring him…for some reason, Gretchen had decided to join the Medusas in studying him like a bug under a microscope. Surly, he answered, “She brought a whole hell of a lot of attention down on me and Jeremy Smythe.”
“Sometimes, having a bright light pointed at you makes you harder to kill,” Aleesha commented reflectively.
He snorted. “I highly doubt Paige made that report in the interest of protecting my safety.”
“Why did she do it, then?”
He stared at Aleesha. “You tell me. You’re the damned Medusa.”
That made the team leader stick a hip out, cross her arms and purse her lips. “You got a problem with female operators? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t care one way or the other. We’ve got a job to do and we’re going to do it whether you like it or not. But it would be helpful to us to know if you’re planning to be a hostile participant in this little exercise.”
He frowned. “I don’t have a problem with female operators. But I have a huge problem with female operators who are also big-mouthed television news journalists.”
Smiles threatened on several lips around him. Casey Something-or-other—he remembered she was a former FBI agent—piped up. “Yeah, we had that problem with her at first, too. But I gotta tell ya, Mr. Rowe. She sweated and suffered and gutted her way through training just like the rest of us. And with all due respect, she’s got a real fire in her belly. She wanted to be an operator more than just about anybody here. And we all wanted it pretty bad.”
He spun and closed on the former federal agent. “Then why did she potentially blow it all this morning?”