Rikki avoided Quinn’s warning looks and plunged ahead. “At the beginning of the call, you said you had proof that David is alive. Is that the picture?”
“That and other things. I’ll turn them over to you so you can go after him and I can be protected. I will be protected, won’t I?”
Clamping a hand on Rikki’s shoulder, Quinn answered the desperate wife. “I think we can work something out. How do you propose to get us this proof if you’re under such close watch?”
“There are ways. I have a lot of old friends in this town, and I socialize quite frequently. In fact, I’m meeting old friends tonight for cocktails. If Agent Reid were to stop by our table, just another Savannah socialite…or friend of my husband’s, who would question that?”
Quinn shook his head at her, and Rikki put her finger to her lips. “Let’s hear the plan, Mrs. Dawson.”
As Belinda laid out her scheme to pass off proof that David had faked his death, Quinn peppered her with questions and Rikki took a few notes.
When she finished, Belinda said, with a hitch in her voice, “I really want to do this. I need to think about myself now.”
“I’ll be there, Mrs. Dawson.”
Quinn ended the call and tapped the edge of the phone against his chin. “Why should we trust her?”
“Because her reasoning sounds plausible.”
“What if it’s a trick to get us on someone’s radar?”
“If it is, we can outmaneuver them. We did it last night when we weren’t even expecting a trap. This time we’ll be even more on our guard and on our game. Besides—” she ran a hand down his tense back “—why would Belinda admit the truth about David being alive if she weren’t on the up-and-up?”
Quinn’s back got even stiffer. “It wouldn’t matter…if she planned to have us killed.”
Rikki’s hand stopped midcircle where she was rubbing Quinn’s back. “I need this proof, Quinn. Nobody is going to believe me, or worse yet, some anonymous tip that Agent David Dawson is a traitor who faked his own death.”
“Ariel will believe you. Take this to her and let her launch an investigation.”
“There’s no denying Ariel is pretty untouchable in the intelligence community, but she has her hands full running the Vlad task force.”
“You said it yourself, Rikki. We could make a good case that this is about Vlad.”
“A good case? A string of undeciphered, coded emails and the word of a disgraced CIA agent, presumed dead?” She slid her hand down his arm and entwined her fingers with his. “I have to do this, Quinn. I won’t be by myself, right? You’ll be there to look out for me.”
“I don’t like it, Rikki. I know better than anyone that a sniper can pick you off at a distance and we wouldn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“Then you also know better than anyone that I can get in and out of that restaurant undercover. With you on my side, no sniper or shooter is going to get a chance at me.”
“I think you’re exaggerating my talents.” He turned and wedged a knuckle beneath her chin. “I’ll get you inside that bar, and then you have one drink or whatever Belinda has planned, get the proof and get out of there.”
“I think it’ll work, and it’s not possible for me to exaggerate your talents.”
“I’m just glad you decided to forgive me so that I could help you with all this. Not that you’re not a kick-ass agent, but at least two people need to be doing this job and I think we make a great team.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
She rested her head against his shoulder. They did make a good team, and she planned to tell him just how much they were going to be a team to raise their daughter—as soon as they got past this danger.
* * *
A FEW HOURS after dinner, Rikki slipped on taupe sling-back heels and smoothed her beige skirt over her thighs. “What do you think? Do I look like a Southern belle born to privilege and debutante balls?”
“I don’t know about all that, but you look beautiful.” Quinn came up behind her and ran a hand through her hair. “I miss those riotous red curls, though, and how the sun would set them on fire. The last time I saw you…”
His fingers tightened in her hair, sending a tingle down her thighs.
Tipping her head into the curve of his palm, she whispered, “But that wasn’t the last time you saw me. I’m here now. We both are.”
He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Let’s keep it that way. Are you sure you want to meet Belinda? It could be a trap. She could have someone waiting for us.”
“I have to get my hands on this proof.” She placed a finger over his lips. “Why would she want us out of the picture? She knows we don’t have any other evidence that David is alive.”
“Why did the guy last night taking shots at us want us out of the way?”
“Because if he’s working with David, he doesn’t know what we have. He doesn’t know what Belinda told us. He was trying to eliminate a possible threat.”
“Let’s get this over with. I can see there’s no talking you out of it. You might as well have that red hair on your head, because you’re just as stubborn as a brunette.”
“Red hair does not make you stubborn.” She gave Quinn a playful push while a smile curved her lips as she thought about little red-haired Bella already trying to assert herself at nine months old.
Rikki grabbed a light sweater from the back of the chair and held it up. “Just in case they’re blasting the air in the bar.”
Before they left the hotel, Quinn called a car for her and saw her safely inside before heading for his own vehicle.
Rikki waved to him out the back window and settled in her seat with a sense of excitement buzzing through her veins. She’d been made for this work. If she could clear her name, how would she reconcile her career with motherhood? Bella meant more to her than anything in the world, more to her than a career—even this career.
And Quinn? How would he fit into it all? He’d been the one talking about forever when they were in Dubai, and that had rattled her. Now he’d changed his tune and had suggested they could both pursue their careers and meet up all over the world when they could. Now she had to break it to him that they had a child together.
She sighed and pressed her fingers against the window. “Almost there?”
“Just about. Ever been to Savannah Joe’s before?”
“Nope.”
“Nice place. You gotta try the mint juleps—best in the city.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks for the tip.”
The driver pulled up in front of the restaurant-bar, and Rikki thanked him and slipped out of the backseat. As Quinn had instructed, she ducked her head and made a beeline for the entrance. If someone had a rifle trained on the entrance to the restaurant, he’d have to recognize her first and set up a shot. She’d given him no time for that at all.
Stepping through the front door, she let out a breath. Belinda had explained the layout—a restaurant in front with tables behind large screened windows, and a busy bar in the back on the river.
As the hostess approached her, Rikki pointed to the back and then made her way to the large bar that separated the dining area from the cocktail lounge.
She rubbed her lips together, moistening her lipstick, and squared her shoulders as she stepped down into the bar area. She scanned the room, and Belinda’s subtle wave caught her attention.
Quinn didn’t have to worry about the setup. This bar, packed with people, didn’t exactly lend itself to ambush and murder at the end of a sniper’s rifle.
Rikki plastered a smile on her face and wended her way through the tables to reach Belinda and her two friends, crowded around a cocktail table.
Belinda half rose from her seat. “Here she is. Peyton, this is Melissa and Jordan. Ladies, Peyton, a friend of David’s family.”
“So nice to meet you.” Rikki shared limp handshakes with the other two women and sat next to Belinda. “This is a great place. I heard the mint juleps are to die for.”
“Have this one.” Belinda shoved a tall glass with a spray of mint in front of Rikki. “I’ve already had one, and these two already ordered another round.”
“Thank you.” Rikki smoothed out the napkin beneath the sweating glass. She wanted to keep her wits about her tonight, get the photo and whatever else Belinda had, and get out. Quinn was supposed to be waiting at the back door of the restaurant to whisk her away once Belinda had handed off the proof in the ladies’ room.
She’d let Belinda call the shots and make the move to the ladies’ room, but this had to look like a legit social interaction in case anyone was watching Belinda.
“Looks refreshing.” Rikki swirled the straw in her glass as the waitress delivered three more drinks.
The waitress raised her eyebrows at Rikki. “Can I get you something?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Rikki tapped the glass and then almost choked when she glanced over the waitress’s shoulder and saw Quinn sitting at the bar.
He had to see that she’d be safe here. She’d rather have him keeping watch outside, and she hoped Belinda hadn’t noticed him.
“To friendships.” Belinda raised her glass in the center of the table and the other two women held up their glasses, as well.
Rikki clinked her glass with theirs. “To friendships.”
The women immediately launched into a discussion of some mutual acquaintance, ripping apart her parenting skills.
Rikki smirked. So much for friendships. She pulled the straw from the glass and sucked some liquid from the bottom of the straw—just a drop or two.
Rikki puckered her lips. She’d never had a mint julep before, and the tartness of the drink surprised her. The garnish on the drink didn’t even include a slice of lime.
She stuck the straw back in the glass and took a tentative sip.
Rikki rolled the liquid on the surface of her tongue, and her nostrils flared as the sour smell reached her nose. The drink dribbled down the back of her throat, but Rikki froze, refusing to swallow.
David’s voice floated across her consciousness, and she could picture him in the hotel room in Bangkok pinching a small vial between his fingers. “I discovered this here, Rikki, and it’s very useful because it has an immediate impact but proceeds to incapacitate slowly and gradually. It also has a tart taste and smell that could pass for a citrus garnish on a cocktail.”
Rikki convulsively clutched the hem of the tablecloth. The liquid had traveled too far for her to stop it unless she made a scene coughing it up.
So she allowed the poison to slide down her throat.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Quinn studied the four women over the rim of his beer mug. Rikki seemed to be doing a good job of acting like the long-lost friend. She laughed, chattered and sipped her mint julep along with the rest.
Did she forget this wasn’t a social call? She needed to nudge Belinda along for their meeting in the john—if Belinda planned to stick with the scheme. He didn’t trust the woman for a second.
“Another beer, sir?”
He waved off the bartender and plucked some bills from his pocket. Then from the corner of his eye, he sensed a commotion.
He jerked his head to the side to see Rikki stagger to her feet, almost upsetting her chair. His muscles coiled. His head swiveled from side to side. Nobody else had noticed.
Belinda rose from the table and placed a hand on Rikki’s arm. Maybe this was the ruse to get them to the ladies’ room.
Rikki leaned against Belinda while Belinda laughed with the other women and curled an arm around Rikki’s waist.
Quinn let out a breath. For a minute he thought Rikki might be injured, but the demeanor of the other two women didn’t support this.
Belinda would take Rikki to the ladies’ room, hand over the proof, and then they could get the hell out of here.
Quinn narrowed his eyes and followed their progress to the hallway at the back. His gaze shifted to Belinda’s friends, still at the table.
He’d give Rikki and Belinda exactly thirty seconds before he went back there himself and hustled Rikki out of the bar. Just because she’d gotten in here without incident didn’t mean they’d let her leave. Belinda could have someone waiting for them in the alley.
Quinn shoved himself off his barstool and strode to the back of the room. Turning the corner to the restrooms, he grazed shoulders with a man coming out of the men’s room, and the hair on the back of his neck quivered.
Knots formed in his gut and he crashed into the ladies’ room.
A woman washing her hands at the sink smirked. “Wrong place.”
Quinn ignored her and peered under the first stall. Rikki hadn’t been wearing short boots.
He pushed in the door of the next stall. “Rikki?”
A groan from the third stall answered him and he gave the door a shove. The door just missed Rikki propped up against the stall, her face white and twisted with pain.
“What happened? Where’s Belinda?”
“Follow her. Just left. Get her.”
“I’m not going anywhere. What the hell happened?”
“I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” She pressed her purse into his hands, her own shaking. “Get the ipecac.”
He dumped the contents of her purse on the tile floor and grabbed a small brown bottle. “This stuff?”
She nodded. “Open.”
He twisted off the cap and handed it to her. She placed it at her lips and threw some back. Almost immediately, she heaved.
“Out.” She pushed him out of the stall.
Another woman had come in and hovered by the first stall. “Is she okay?”
The sound of vomiting came from Rikki’s stall, and Quinn shrugged. “She’s sick.”
The woman wrinkled her nose. “Probably too many of those mint juleps.”
Several minutes later, Rikki emerged from the stall, shoving her hair back from her face. She gave the woman at the sink a weak smile. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh, honey, it was those mint juleps, wasn’t it? Bourbon, powdered sugar.” She stuck out her tongue. “Vile.”
“You could say that.” Rikki ran water over her hands in the sink and splashed her face and rinsed her mouth.
Quinn yanked several paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to her. “Feeling better?”
“Lots.” She dabbed her face and neck with the paper towels and ducked back into the stall, ripping off a length of toilet paper. While she blew her nose and did another round of hand-washing, Quinn gathered the items from her purse off the floor and stuffed them back into her bag, including the bottle of ipecac. How the hell did she happen to have that? He studied the sharpened nail file, a bit of rope and another bottle of a clear substance before dropping each into her purse. Travel kit for a CIA agent on assignment?
Two other women had come into the restroom and Quinn apologized, explaining that his wife had been ill, but the women’s presence didn’t give him and Rikki a chance to talk. And they needed to talk.
Quinn took her arm and hunched over her as they exited the ladies’ room. He placed a hand on the silver bar of the back door. “Stay down, crouch forward, stay next to the building.”
Rikki cleared her throat. “I don’t think we have to worry about anyone else. Belinda was lying about being followed. Besides, I’m supposed to be dead—again.”
“Don’t argue.”
Quinn sneaked Rikki out the back door of the restaurant as if they had a team of snipers taking aim from all four corners of the alley.
He’d wedged his car behind a waitress’s after paying her forty bucks for the privilege to get as close as possible to the restaurant. W
hen he handed Rikki into the passenger seat, he said, “Stay down.”
She complied, arms folded over her stomach, and he hoped she wouldn’t have another episode in his car.
Checking all mirrors, he pulled out of the alley and drove for several blocks.
Rikki finally piped up. “We need to go after Belinda, Quinn.”
“Can you tell me what happened now?”
“She poisoned me, slipped it in my mint julep. As soon as I figured out what I was drinking, I stopped drinking it. I wiped my mouth several times and spit the drink into a napkin. One time, I was able to pour out a bit on the floor.”
His hands gripped the steering wheel. And he’d been worried about shooters outside the restaurant. “So that and the syrup of ipecac saved you. How’d you know to bring it, or is it standard operating procedure for you spooks?”
“Actually, David saved me.”
“What?”
“I’d never had a mint julep before, but this one tasted nothing like I expected. It had a tart taste and smell, and then I remembered David showing me a poison he’d discovered in Thailand. Fast-acting to incapacitate the victim, but slow enough to delay actual death for a few days. Belinda didn’t want me dropping dead at the table, but she also had no intention of giving me David’s picture or any other proof.”
“Did she tell you this as she led you away to the bathroom?”
“She didn’t say much of anything. She kept up appearances to the end, soothing me and sympathizing—up until the moment she abandoned me in the bathroom stall and took off.”
“She admitted David was alive because she planned to kill you and never turn over any evidence. But why go through all this to kill you? Why not call out one of David’s henchmen, like she did at her house?”
“That didn’t work because you were there.”
“And why just you and not me? Unless she has something else planned for me.”
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