Dangerous Games

by Tess Diamond

  She smiled. “You should let me go then,” she whispered.

  “Is that an order?” he asked, boyish teasing in his eyes and grin. Her heart twisted inside her chest. How could he have so many different smiles? She wanted to discover all of them. To be their cause.

  “Does it need to be?” she countered.

  He let go of her, his fingers trailing off her body like they wanted to linger there. “You can order me around any day, Goldilocks.”

  She blushed, and his grin widened when he saw it.

  “Okay, let’s go do this,” he said. “Be the big bad bitch they’ve built you up to be in their heads, Maggie. They won’t know what to do with themselves.”

  “You’ve got my back?” she asked, because she wanted to hear it again. She wanted to feel it again; that warm, hopeful emotion that had sprouted and blossomed in her chest at his faith in her. This wasn’t the time or the place to consider the depth of that emotion—where it came from, how it had taken root so fast—but it comforted her just the same.

  “I’ve got your back,” he promised.

  She turned toward the door when her cell phone, set on the desk, began to ring.

  Jake looked over to it as she grabbed the phone and looked at the screen.

  “It’s an unlisted number,” she said.

  “You think it’s him?” he asked.

  “Could be,” she said.

  “I’ll get them to trace it.” Jake opened the door to the conference room and got the attention of one of the techs, who scrambled to set up a trace as Jake returned to her side. The rest of the room had gone mercifully silent, and Maggie turned her back to them, steeling herself. She didn’t need to see all those eyes on her. This call was too important.

  She knew who Max Grayson really was. She was finally a step ahead of him. She needed to use that leverage carefully.

  So far, he was flying high on his success. So far, he’d made it look easy. But now it was time to change the game. She needed to put a chink in his armor.

  She didn’t have a lot of time to think. She had to answer. Her heart skipped nervously and her stomach swooped in a sick circle as she swiped the phone screen. After a deep breath, she accepted the call. “Hello?” Her voice was level and calm, without a hint of the desperation she felt.

  “Hello, Maggie,” Max Grayson said. Gone was the digitized voice. Instead, she heard the crisp, practiced tones of someone who’d spent years lying for a living. “Since the cat’s out of the bag, we can cut out the middleman. This is nicer, isn’t it? Just you and me. More private.”

  “Like that secret compartment in your closet?” Maggie asked.

  Grayson laughed. “Searching through my stuff, are you? How’s that going?”

  “Did you call me just to gloat?” Maggie asked. “Because you fooled me. We can talk about that, if you want. Or we can talk about what you really want.”

  “You should be aware,” Grayson said, a note of satisfaction in his voice, “that I’ve destroyed sweet little Kayla’s insulin. She’s got the shakes, poor thing. Her blood sugar, you know. I looked it up—WebMD says this kind of crash is pretty painful. From what I read, if she doesn’t get help, it can cause permanent damage. She might slip into a coma and never wake up. It’d be quite the blow to her mother, don’t you think? But I doubt her dad will mind as much. He doesn’t seem to be the most involved father, if you know what I mean.”

  Maggie was livid at his casual cruelty, but managed to keep her cool. “I’ll ask again.” Her voice was tense. “Do you want to do business, Mancuso?”

  There was an audible, sucked-in breath and a long pause.

  “Oh, yeah,” Maggie went on. “I know who you are. Roger Mancuso. Grew up at 345 North Street in Charlottesville. It costs a pretty penny to manufacture this extensive an identity. I must admit I’m impressed, Max.” With the last word, her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “It—it doesn’t change things,” Mancuso replied after a pause, his voice cracking. He was clearly rattled and hiding it badly. “I still have Kayla. You won’t find her in time, Maggie. Do you really want that on your head after your last case?”

  Maggie’s hand tightened so hard on the phone she was afraid she’d break it. She couldn’t say anything—her voice would shake, her anger would come through. He would know he’d struck a well-aimed blow. She needed to breathe and gain some kind of control, she reminded herself sternly. This wasn’t about her. It was about Kayla’s safety. She wasn’t going to botch this like she did at Sherwood Hills.

  “You know, I listened to the agents talk about you,” Mancuso pushed on. “How you burned out. They thought Edenhurst was crazy, bringing you in. Kept talking about how badly you screwed up two years ago. How everyone had to clean up your mess.” Mancuso’s voice deepened as he went in for the kill. “Do you want another mess, Maggie? Because I can make a big one. Bigger than you can even imagine.”

  Maggie couldn’t stop the quick breath she sucked in. An audible sound that she knew he heard. She swallowed, her throat dry and tight. She couldn’t defend herself. Not to him. Not to anyone. Not even to herself. It wasn’t the time or the place. She wasn’t the kind of person who’d try.

  This wasn’t about her. It was about Kayla. She had to ignore the hurt and doubt rising inside her like a tsunami. She had to hold steady. She was Maggie Kincaid, and she would not be shaken.

  “Senator Thebes has until seven o’clock to get me the file,” Mancuso went on, his voice rising. “He will drop the file in the garbage can right outside the entrance of Lafayette Square. Don’t even try to get someone undercover in position. I will spot any law enforcement, Maggie—you know I will. I’ve outsmarted you once, and I’ll do it again. If you send anyone else, Kayla’s going to wish she slipped into a coma.”

  Maggie’s heartbeat spiked at the determination in Mancuso’s voice. He was escalating, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Push him too hard and he’d snap.

  Be too weak and he’d take advantage. God, what to do?

  What was the right choice?

  She could feel the ropes tightening around her wrists, and she rubbed at the skin furiously, her mind racing.

  “If you get the file, then I get Kayla’s location,” Maggie said. “And she needs to be in good health, Mancuso.”

  “If I get the file,” Mancuso stressed. “You can have Kayla. But your fine senator hasn’t been exactly forthcoming about all this, has he?” The venomous mockery in his voice made Maggie’s skin prickle.

  Jake scribbled something on a notepad, holding it up to her: What’s in that file?

  Maggie nodded to show she understood.

  “No, he hasn’t,” Maggie said, a plan forming in her head as she spoke. Senator Thebes clearly wasn’t going to tell her what was in that file—and getting him to hand it over would be even more difficult. Maybe Mancuso could give her the lead she needed. She softened her voice, her tone turning conversational, like she was a coworker complaining about an annoying boss. “It’s been really frustrating, to be honest. I’m kind of pissed off. Typical politician, thinking he’s more important than he actually is.”

  “I bet you tried to bust his balls and failed.” Mancuso sneered.

  Maggie could tell he wasn’t convinced by her sudden change of tone. She needed to sell it. To create a thread of commiseration between them. “He’s been very stubborn,” Maggie agreed. “I mean, you worked for him. You know what I mean.”

  Mancuso snorted. “Yeah.”

  Maggie continued, encouraged by his reaction. They were building a rapport. This was good. “It’s been incredibly difficult to get him to do anything, really. But you don’t have to be like that. You seemed like an up-front guy when I met you. Slick as hell, but that’s politics for you. You didn’t beat around the bush like the senator does.”

  “Damn right,” Mancuso replied.

  “So you could help me out,” Maggie said, encouraged by the hint of pride in his voice. She was getting to him. “Help us
both out, really. If I know some of your story, I can understand where you’re coming from better. It must be pretty bad, right? Whatever’s in that file? The senator seems determined to keep it quiet. I mean, you’ve got his kid, and he’s not budging. I really need some leverage with him, Mancuso.”

  There was a long pause. Maggie felt a knot form in her stomach as she worried she’d overplayed her hand. But then:

  “Ask the good senator about SouthPoint Oil,” Mancuso said. “He’ll know what I mean.”

  Jake whipped out his phone and began typing. He was probably Googling it.

  “Anything else you can tell me?” Maggie asked, encouraged by the lead.

  “If I don’t have that file in hand by seven o’clock, you won’t hear from me again,” Mancuso said. “And Kayla gets her throat slit.”

  He hung up.

  Horrified, Maggie looked up at Jake. But she couldn’t let her fear and worry swamp her. It was time for action.

  “We need to have another conversation with the senator,” she said.

  Jake nodded grimly. “It’s not going to be easy. His kid getting kidnapped wasn’t good enough motivation. I don’t know what will light a fire underneath him.”

  “We’ve got to try. You still have my back?”

  The warmth in his face made her feel as if she was standing in front of a long-burning fire. She realized that she could count on this man to back her up, whatever it took . . . a strange and comforting feeling of support, at the moment she needed it most.

  “I’ve got your back, Maggie,” Jake said, looking into her eyes. “All the way.”

  Chapter 32

  “My wife is resting,” the senator said stiffly as he led them into his office. The house seemed empty and echoing now that it wasn’t full of FBI. Only two agents were stationed at the gates, along with the senator’s own security.

  His displeasure at seeing the two of them together again was apparent. He knew why they were here—again—and didn’t like it one bit. He glowered at Maggie as they walked into his office, his icy silence saying it all. Maggie could practically see him gearing up for another battle.

  “I’d ask you to sit, but I don’t expect you to stay long,” the senator said.

  Very deliberately, Maggie sat down in one of the leather chairs facing his desk, raising an eyebrow until he sat down. He folded his arms across his chest, sticking out his chin like a petulant child.

  “Max Grayson isn’t who you thought he was,” she said.

  “Yes, Ms. Kincaid, that’s clear,” Thebes replied. “Do you have any new information for me, or are you just here to make more impossible demands?”

  “She doesn’t just mean Grayson fooled your security team’s background check,” Jake began.

  “Max Grayson is an alias,” Maggie explained. “Kayla’s kidnapper is a man named Roger Mancuso. And he seems to have a very big grudge against you.”

  Maggie watched the senator closely, searching for any flicker of recognition. His mouth flattened in disapproval, like this was her fault.

  “This man kidnapped my daughter. I know he dislikes me,” he snapped. “I’m a United States senator—there are plenty of people who feel that way. How did he get through my security?” He turned to Jake, accusatory. “He had credentials. Recommendations. They performed a background check. My security firm is the best in DC.”

  “The problem is, Senator, that Mancuso hired the best too,” Jake said. “Whoever created this identity for him was the best of the best. Nothing would’ve pinged on their radar.”

  A mottled color rose in his cheeks, his lips tightening so much they practically disappeared. He turned to Maggie. “What’s your plan here, Ms. Kincaid?” he demanded. “Because so far, I’m not seeing a clear path to getting my daughter back safely.”

  Because you’re not helping her or me! Maggie thought furiously. She hated that he could fix this with one trip to the Capitol but wouldn’t even consider it. Why? She had to find out.

  “Mancuso’s withholding Kayla’s insulin,” Maggie said. “He will use her illness as leverage until you give him the file he wants.”

  “We’ve gone through this,” Thebes replied coldly. “I cannot give up the file. Find another way.”

  Frustration rose inside her, threatening to blot out everything else. She breathed deep. She had to stay in control. “Then tell me what’s in the file, so at least I have a goddamn lead,” Maggie gritted out.

  The senator straightened in his seat, recoiling slightly from her obvious anger. She didn’t care if he was offended. She cared about the scant breadcrumbs that might lead her in the right direction to save his daughter.

  “It’s impossible to share the file with you,” the senator said. “You’re not even an agent anymore,” he sneered, the derision dripping from his voice. “Even if you were, you don’t have the clearance.”

  Maggie’s lip curled in disgust. She was done giving him any benefit of the doubt. She was done baiting. The bastard would let his daughter die before he put that file into Mancuso’s hands. What was he so afraid of? She stared at him across the desk and dropped the bomb. “Tell me about SouthPoint Oil.”

  And there it was. The sign she was looking for: guilt mixed with surprise flashed across Thebes’ face. Maggie knew it’d be there, she’d been sure of it, but the satisfaction that flooded through her was bitter. The senator had a lot to lose, and SouthPoint was at the core of it. He wasn’t about to give up that file for anything—not even Kayla. It disgusted and horrified her. She could feel the revulsion in the back of her throat, a sour taste that lingered. Her hands fisted unconsciously, and she had to force herself to uncurl them.

  Maggie’s parents had done everything they could to bring their girls home safe. They would’ve paid any price. Her father would’ve chopped off his own hands if that was the ransom that had been demanded. But this man, this man who claimed to be a leader of people, a loving father and husband, wouldn’t lift one finger to save his daughter. Not if it risked his reputation.

  There was a special kind of hell for men like him. He didn’t deserve Kayla. And she deserved so much more than him.

  The anger inside Maggie was molten, bubbling, rising to the surface of her skin. She breathed through it, tamping down the imminent explosion. She needed to stay calm. She had to.

  “What about SouthPoint Oil?” the senator asked. He was clearly trying to sound and look indifferent, but the sweat beading along his collar and the slight crack in his voice said otherwise.

  “It’s an oil company with headquarters in your state,” Jake said.

  The senator shrugged. “Maryland’s a very pro-business state. You can’t expect me to keep track of every company with headquarters back home.”

  “Stop lying,” Maggie said between gritted teeth.

  The senator’s steely gaze cut to her, trying to wither her, but instead, it fueled her anger. She glared right back at him, standing tall—well, as tall as she could get while sitting. She stared at him resolutely, refusing to blink or look away.

  “I’m not lying, Ms. Kincaid,” he said.

  She slammed her palms on his desk, exploding out of her chair and pushing into his space until their faces were just inches apart. He flinched at her sudden movement, but quickly recovered, fury boiling in his face.

  But she wasn’t afraid. She was fueled by an anger he could never understand, because she cared more about his kid than he did. Because she knew what Kayla was feeling right now. How scared she was. How she was sure her father was doing everything he could to get her home.

  But he wasn’t. He was hindering her safety. And Maggie wouldn’t stand for it.

  “I am sick of you trying to cover your ass instead of owning up to whatever the hell you did,” she hissed right in his face. “This is your daughter, you crooked bastard. Your kid! Do you know what she’s going through? Have you even thought about it?” Her voice was rising, trembling. Her wrists ached, the rope that was just a memory tightening, digging int
o her skin. “Kayla’s in the dark—alone, scared, and powerless. She’s sick, and she knows every minute that ticks by she’s closer to death. She’s sitting somewhere, terrified, waiting for her daddy to save her. She’s sure you’re coming for her. That you’re doing everything you can to get her home. You could be the man she thinks you are, that she hopes you are, that she needs you to be—but you won’t. And don’t you dare try to feed me that national security bullshit, Senator. You’re a horrible liar—and an even worse father.”

  Thebes stood up so fast that his sleeve knocked over the cup of pencils, which rattled across his desk. “Don’t you dare speak to me that way,” he spat out, his voice low and dangerous. His steely eyes narrowed in fury. “If you don’t like how I’m handling this, you can go to hell. Get out of my sight.”

  Maggie looked him dead in the eye, unafraid, undaunted. “‘Handling’ this? You don’t deserve that sweet little girl,” she said. “You don’t deserve her trusting you or loving you or calling you Dad. I’m going to find out what you’re hiding, Thebes. I’m going to dig up every dirty secret and lay them all out. I’ll destroy your reputation if it means getting Kayla back safely. The fact that you won’t do the same makes you less than a man—it makes you scum . . . it puts you on my shit list, even below the kidnapper. And just wait until you see what I do to him.”

  Without another word, Maggie pushed herself away from the desk and stalked out of the room, through the entrance hall and out the big double doors, into the late afternoon. It seemed strange to notice how beautiful the day was when she was this furious. She half expected storm clouds and lightning to echo her mood. Energy buzzed under her skin.

  She felt like beating the man to a pulp, but he’d call security before she could get in a decent punch, so that wouldn’t help matters.

  Walking. Walking was an option. Burn off some of her fury so she wouldn’t march back inside and slug a United States senator. She began to move, rubbing at her wrists as she made her way briskly across the lawn.

  Halfway down the expansive slope, heading toward the rose garden, she heard someone call her name.