Our Little Secret

by Starr Ambrose

  He couldn’t respond, couldn’t judge her, and couldn’t reassure her. He also didn’t know how to get useful information while Charlene McNabb floundered in self-pity.

  Lauren’s fingers slipped away from his and Lauren leaned forward, her feminine concern all but dismissing him from the conversation.

  “Senator, I don’t know how this happened, but I don’t believe you would be careless enough to risk exposure. Do you have any idea how someone obtained photographs of your… affair?”

  Charlene McNabb sank back in her chair and covered her face with her hands, shaking her head as she spoke. “No. I don’t know. I can’t believe it happened. It wasn’t even an affair. It was a spontaneous thing, just one night, while I was on vacation in the Bahamas.” She raised her eyes in a pleading look. “I don’t even know his last name, and I know he doesn’t know mine. I lied about it.” She clenched her eyes shut and pounded her fists onto the table. “God, I sound so pathetic. I don’t understand this. I swear there’s no way anyone could have known, much less taken those pictures.” She choked up.

  Drew hardly dared breathe while Lauren gave the senator several seconds to collect herself.

  “Who was he?” Lauren asked.

  Senator McNabb shook her head. “I don’t know. Just a guy on vacation. He approached me at the bar. We talked, and he invited me to have dinner with him. I was there alone, feeling sorry for myself because my husband… well, we’d been having difficulties over our careers, with both of us being out of town a lot and the kids acting out, needing more supervision.” She waved her hand as if brushing aside her concerns. “We were working it out. But I was angry, feeling rejected, and Tony was so sympathetic, so understanding.”

  Senator McNabb took a deep breath and seemed to make an effort to pull herself together. Her back straightened and her expression grew determined. “I have no excuse. I was vulnerable, but I knew what I was doing. But those pictures… I’ve thought about nothing else for the past month. And as impossible as it seems, I can only conclude that I was set up.”

  Drew couldn’t suppress his sudden flare of interest. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not like we were out on a beach. We were in his hotel room. Blinds closed, door double-locked—I was rational enough to be paranoid about being recognized. Yet there were pictures. It had to have been a hidden camera.”

  For one swift second he caught Lauren’s glance and knew they were both recalling the pictures of Meg. “Were the photos high quality? Like they were professionally done?”

  She shook her head. “No, the room was dim. They were just clear enough that you could tell it was me. Why?”

  “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” Maybe it didn’t, he couldn’t sort it all out now.

  “Did you ever hear from Tony again?” Lauren asked.

  “No. I didn’t even stay the night, I was so ashamed of what I’d done. And like I said, he didn’t know my real name. At least, I didn’t think he did.” She laughed, a bitter, harsh sound. “I’m not even sure I know his. I remember I laughed when he told me it was Tony, because it didn’t fit. Tony sounds so stereotypically Italian, that dark, olive-skinned look, you know? But he was so fair and blond, almost Nordic.”

  Drew felt his skin go cold despite the clammy Florida heat and knew from Lauren’s wide eyes that she felt the same thing. Her voice was weak when she asked, “Did he have long, straight hair? About to here?” She indicated a line just above her collar.

  Senator McNabb looked surprised, then suspicious. “Yes. How did you know that?”

  “There are similar pictures,” Lauren said, her voice shaky. “Of my sister and… and a man of that description.”

  Color drained from Senator McNabb’s face. “Oh my God.” Drew saw her hands tighten into white-knuckled fists and felt the same tense response in his gut. “For them to have planned that… my trip to the Bahamas was a last-second decision. Someone had to have known my schedule, followed me, have the whole seduction planned in advance.” To her credit, she didn’t waste much time on self-pity. “If they were that organized, this could be huge. And dangerous.” She turned her gaze back to him. “Are you aware of what they used those pictures for, Mr. Creighton?”

  “I know you were asked to vote a certain way to keep the pictures secret.”

  “Yes, I was told to vote against my party’s position on the offshore drilling bill.” She paused, shame obvious in her flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. “God help me, I did. It passed by four votes, close but far more than anyone expected.” She looked up. “It wasn’t expected to pass. Do you see? With that margin I thought my vote didn’t matter, that it would have passed anyway, but how many of those four votes were coerced like mine was?”

  Drew didn’t have to be in politics to understand the enormity of what she was suggesting. New laws, appropriations, taxes—all were decided by the House and Senate. Many passed by only a few votes. If someone gained control of more votes, whole political agendas could be changed.

  One powerful person, with enough political blackmail behind him, could control the course of the country. One powerful, corrupt person.

  “Who wanted the offshore drilling bill passed?” he asked grimly.

  “All of the opposing party pushed for it, but it was the president’s baby.” Senator McNabb watched Drew’s shocked response and shook her head, following his thoughts. “No, it can’t be him. I don’t agree with the president’s agenda, but I know and respect the man. I’m certain he’d never be involved in something so immoral.”

  Drew didn’t argue, but he couldn’t help recalling the evil glare and snide remarks Lauren had received at the Romanian embassy. The president’s domestic advisor had not bothered to conceal her disdain for both Meg and Harlan Creighton. Even if the president were too principled to have done it, that didn’t rule out any of the ambitious sycophants he employed.

  Drew’s mind whirled with scenarios of presidential advisors sneaking around Washington, luring senators into sexual traps, then forcing them to vote for the president’s pet programs. It was a plot far beyond the scope of Watergate, and he couldn’t believe it. For one thing, it was too complex. To break into Mihaly’s apartment, trail Senator McNabb to the Bahamas, and deliver the blackmail photos to Meg and his dad right under the nose of the Secret Service all required incredible resources. And skill. And inside information. Almost like the Secret Service itself.

  Drew stiffened.

  It was so obvious. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner?

  He stood abruptly, pulling a surprised Lauren up with him. “I’m sorry, Senator McNabb, but we must be going. Don’t worry, your name won’t come up. I’ll do my best to see that this doesn’t affect your career.”

  The senator’s mouth pulled into a tight, regretful smile. “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be resigning my seat.”

  “No, please don’t make a hasty decision—” Drew began.

  “I’m not. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I have to leave. Those pictures will be used against me again and again, and I refuse to violate my office and my constituents by voting against my conscience again. I’ll be resigning when the Senate resumes session next week.”

  At their stunned looks, she shook her head wearily. “It’s not your fault. If they want to use the pictures to destroy my marriage, they can try. That’s my problem. But I won’t let my mistakes influence the course of domestic and foreign policy. I hope Harlan and Meg are okay, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

  “But you did,” Drew told her.

  “I did? I don’t understand.”

  He wasn’t going to explain until he had proof. “If I learn anything, I’ll keep you informed, Senator McNabb. Thank you for seeing us.” He hustled Lauren toward the walk that led around the house to the driveway.

  As soon as they rounded the corner and plunged into the senator’s landscaped jungle of banyan trees and flowering hibiscus, Lauren tugged at his arm. “Will you please tell me what in the wor
ld is going on?”

  Drew looked around, then pulled her into the deep green shade of a tree, sending several small lizards scurrying up its branches. As isolated as they seemed on the shaded path, Drew no longer trusted his sense of security. He leaned close to Lauren’s ear.

  “We have to return to Washington as soon as possible. I think we’d better call Mihaly, too,” he said, grimacing at the thought.

  Lauren lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Why?”

  “Because I know why Dad and Meg disappeared. I just figured out who tried to blackmail them.”

  “Who?”

  Even saying it aloud seemed dangerous. Instead, he put a finger to his lips and asked for the car keys.

  When he was behind the wheel, squealing the tires as he sped out of the senator’s driveway, he told her.

  He knew she heard him over the noise because she stared in disbelief. “The Secret Service? That’s impossible!”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “How can the Secret Service possibly be blackmailing senators? They’re the ones who set up the sting in the first place.”

  “Some of them did,” he corrected. “But I think some others, maybe only one or two, pulled off this blackmail scheme. Think about it. Why else would my dad and Meg run from the Secret Service? They must have figured out who was behind it, and didn’t know who to trust.”

  “How? How did they figure it out?” She frowned, obviously not convinced. And she wasn’t blinded enough by love to believe him without proof.

  The idea that Lauren might love him was intriguing, and worth exploring, but not now.

  “I can’t be sure how they figured it out. Maybe it was the blond guy in the photos. Maybe my dad recognized him.” Anticipating Lauren’s objection, he added, “Or if the pictures were faked, maybe Meg recognized him. Anyway, the timing fits. Chapman said an envelope was delivered to them just before they ran. I agree with him that it had to be the photos. Realizing who the blond guy was would have been enough to spook them into disappearing. He’s got to be Secret Service. It’s the only reason they would run from the people who were supposed to protect them.”

  He dug the cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to Lauren. “Here, the airline’s number is in the directory. See if we can get on a flight back to D.C. today.”

  She looked worried as she dialed, so he knew she was at least partially convinced. With the phone to her ear, Lauren asked, “Why would the Secret Service care about how anyone voted on the offshore drilling bill?”

  “They wouldn’t. It’s not the agents, it’s whoever they’re working for,” he told her grimly. “Senator McNabb swore it couldn’t be the president. But those agents have to be doing this on behalf of someone, someone who cares about the outcome of that bill.”

  That was the missing piece of the puzzle. Who had the most to gain by passing that legislation? Drew didn’t keep up with politics well enough to know. His father’s office staff might be helpful, but he didn’t want to involve more people, especially people he didn’t know. But Senator Pierson was already involved, and he would know who would benefit.

  While Lauren spoke to the airline, Drew devised a plan. He was so lost in thought, he hadn’t even noticed the sedan that zoomed up from behind and shot out on their left until it was beside them. It was too close. Drew swerved sharply to the right. The Mustang fishtailed, tires sliding on the crushed shells and sand of the shoulder, throwing up stones that banged against the windshield and sheet metal. Drew swore, fighting the wheel. The car rocked to a stop as the speeding sedan roared past more cars until it was out of sight.

  “Goddamned freakin’ idiot, he could get someone killed!” He looked at Lauren, who was rubbing her shoulder. “Are you all right?” He undid his seat belt and gently grabbed her arm, turning her toward him.

  “I’m fine, I just bumped my shoulder on the door, and dropped the phone. Did you see where it went?”

  Her eyes searched the floor but it was something else that grabbed Drew’s attention. Gazing past Lauren, he stared at three neat, round holes in the passenger door and glove box.

  A chill swept over him. The banging sound had been bullets, not stones. He swore again, his grip inadvertently tightening on Lauren’s shoulders.

  “What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze, looking at the holes in confusion, then dawning horror. Her voice was weak. “They shot at us?” She turned to him, eyes clear gray and wide with fear. “Why?”

  The terror in her gaze sent a hot bolt of anger ripping through his gut.

  “Maybe because we’re getting too close to the truth.”

  Wedged between Lauren’s seat and the center console, Drew spotted the cell phone. He called 911, reporting the shooting in terse words, and hung up only when he heard approaching sirens.

  White and shaken, Lauren watched him. The urgent need to pull her into his arms left him frustrated—the damn gear shift was in the way. He held her hand, keeping her cold fingers wrapped in a reassuring grip, no longer questioning the part of him that knew he would never let go of her.

  Or the sobering realization that went with it: He’d brought her here, exposed her to this. This was his fault. His first responsibility was to get her to safety.

  “Were you able to get us on a flight to Washington tonight?” he asked.

  She nodded, then found her voice. “Yes.”

  “Good.” In Washington, he could make sure she was safe.

  From the opposite direction, a squad car raced toward them down the center line. “When we’re done here, I’m going to make sure we get an escort back to the airport. As soon as we do, call Mihaly and have him meet us at the airport. I don’t care how late it is.”

  “Okay. But why?”

  “Because he’s the only one who knows what he’s doing with this spy business, and he doesn’t have conflicting allegiances. I’m sure he doesn’t give a damn about the Secret Service; he only cares about Meg.”

  As the squad car did a U-turn behind them, he glanced at Lauren. She wasn’t going to like this. “There is one problem.”

  “What?” she asked cautiously.

  “If we want him to believe us, we’re going to have to tell him how we made the connection with the Secret Service. We have to tell him about the photos of Meg and the blond guy.”

  Chapter

  Twelve

  They not only had to tell him, they had to show him.

  Lauren didn’t like it; she was certain she was betraying Meg. But when Mihaly met their plane at 2:00 a.m. and heard about the X-rated pictures, his face became stern and cold. He insisted on seeing them. She offered to describe them, but Mihaly wouldn’t budge.

  Meg was going to kill her.

  Lauren was at the bank when it opened, bleary-eyed after only two hours of sleep and sunburned after forgetting to reapply sunscreen for the drive back to the airport. With minimal conversation, she retrieved the envelope from the safe deposit box and hurried back to the car.

  “Not here,” she said, holding the envelope away from Mihaly’s grasping hands.

  “I’ll be very quick,” he said, reaching again.

  “No. When we get to the house.” If she had to let him see the photos, at least it would be someplace private.

  Neither Drew nor Mihaly objected, and neither said a word as they drove back to the Creighton home.

  Mihaly followed impatiently as Lauren led the way into the living room. The lightweight envelope felt heavy and ominous in her hand. She thrust it at Mihaly.

  Lauren hadn’t planned to look, but Mihaly collapsed onto the sofa across from her and dumped the photos on the coffee table. She glanced, then looked away, blushing. It wasn’t the sex she found embarrassing. It was that they showed Meg with a man whose only interest was victimizing her. She wished there’d been a less brutal way to convince Mihaly of the blackmail scheme.

  Drew stood nearby, his gaze also avoiding the photos as he watched the Romanian.

  Mihaly spread the photos out, s
tudying each one with a grim expression. Lauren ached for him, doubting any man’s love could hold up to that sort of betrayal. Certainly she would never be as stoic as Mihaly if she were to see compromising photos of Drew. The pain of that thought was so intense she shuddered and blocked it from her mind. It was not her love life that was crumbling here; it was Meg’s.

  Mihaly’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes unreadable as he gathered the photos and stacked them facedown on the table before leaning back against the sofa.

  “These are fake,” he pronounced.

  Lauren shared a sympathetic glance with Drew.

  “I thought so, too,” she said carefully. “At first. I just couldn’t picture Meg doing that. I mean, I could, but not with some guy who…” She was making a mess of it. “But I’m pretty sure that’s Meg. I mean…” She glanced at Drew. Oh, what the hell, he’d already seen everything. “I’m sure it’s her, Mihaly. And the man is the same guy another senator described, probably the same one who broke into your apartment. Meg had to be set up.”