by Janet Dailey
Dripping wet, he lifted himself out of the pool, his biceps swelling with the effort, and walked quickly toward a chaise, picking up a towel and tying it in a low knot around his narrow hips. Soaked, the towel clung to him. He grabbed another to dry off his powerful chest and back. His legs stayed wet as he walked, as muscular as the rest of him. No wonder her kicks hadn’t done any damage.
She lifted her glass for another sip, silently congratulating herself for getting here early. What an unexpected pleasure.
She sensed someone looking her way and adjusted her glasses, able to glimpse him in her peripheral vision. A middle-aged guy with a linebacker’s build and a crew cut—not anyone she knew or wanted to know. Kelly ignored him.
Deke walked to the side of the terrace and vanished behind a wooden wall. Kelly felt a slight pang to see him go. Other than that, the few sips of wine she’d had were making her feel awfully mellow. A brightness in the southern sky appeared. The moon rose, luminous and full.
Kelly heard hushed footsteps behind her and set the glass down, flipping open her laptop. Another man passed by, not even looking at her, talking softly to the woman at his side.
She checked the time as the screen came to life. 7:46. Deke would have to shower and dress fast, but he was likely to be right on time. She wasn’t going to say anything about seeing him in the pool. No reason to. This wasn’t a date.
More people entered the bar. The hostess and the cocktail waitress were both busy all of a sudden. Kelly left the rest of the wine untouched, pulling up a file to work on. The pool lights glimmered at the edge of her vision. She almost wished she could buy a bikini in the hotel gift shop and go for a dip after she and Deke finished talking.
She told herself that the pool was probably for hotel guests only, then wondered why he hadn’t said he was staying here.
A tap on her shoulder snapped her out of it.
“Waiting long?”
Kelly glanced down at the time in the corner of the screen. 8:11.
“No,” she lied. “Hi, Deke.”
“When did you get here?” He retrieved the chair that she’d removed and sat down next to her. His hair was combed but still dark with moisture, just touching the back of the collar of his crisply pressed shirt. He wore the shirt without a tie, unbuttoned by two. Like her, he had on dark jeans.
“Um, a few minutes ago.”
He’d shaved quickly, leaving just a trace of dark stubble along his jaw. And he smelled wonderful. She caught a whiff of clean male skin and a splash of bay rum.
“Did you notice the pool?”
She looked up nonchalantly. By now the reflective glass of the window showed more of the bar’s interior than the glittering water beyond it.
“It’s beautiful. Were you just swimming?”
“Yes, I was. Been meaning to, finally got around to it.”
“Not like you’re on vacation.”
“No. But I can fake it.” He smiled at her. He looked calm and sleek, as if the fierce animal tension she remembered in his hold had been exercised away.
He had the height to slouch a bit and still look taller than her. He rested an arm on the table, stretching out his long legs under it and looking around for the cocktail waitress before he turned his attention back to Kelly.
“What are you having?”
“Just white wine.” She shook her head when he seemed about to ask if she wanted another. “This is it for me.”
“I could go for something stronger,” he said. “I don’t have to drive.”
“So you’re staying here?”
“On the seventy-second floor.”
Kelly laughed. “Do you dare look out the window?”
“It’s an interesting sensation, I can tell you that.” He motioned the cocktail waitress over and requested a scotch and soda, which was quickly set in front of him.
Deke straightened in his chair. “Okay. We have drinks. Talk to me.”
She got through the events of the day as fast as she could, winding it up with her visit to the police station.
“Good to get that over with. The lieutenant is going to ask Gordon for that footage, though,” he said thoughtfully.
“Do you know him? Lieutenant Dwight, I mean.”
“No. But that’s my best guess.” He looked at her steadily.
“What?” Kelly knew her face was flushed—it didn’t take much wine to make that happen for someone fair and blond—and she could feel the careless knot of hair unraveling at the nape of her neck. She wound a strand of it nervously around one finger, then let it go and pushed it back.
“I still want to see that footage. Maybe we can do something for each other.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged, an easy motion that suggested the strength hidden by the shirt. “Your boss canceled your pet project, and Dwight told you not to investigate the shooting. Therefore, you need something to do to stay out of trouble.”
She just stared at him. Right now Deke Bannon looked like plenty of trouble for any woman, let alone her. It had been too long.
“Deke, I know what I saw at that building and I know what I heard on the scanners—”
“Do us both a favor. Keep all of it to yourself.”
He didn’t add and be a good girl. But she got the idea. Kelly scowled at him. “Indefinitely?”
“For now.”
“Do you need me to agree? I really don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Kelly, even I have to step back on this part of the case. The evidence is being analyzed and the murders fall under the jurisdiction of the police, not us. But there’s another investigation going on—I can tell you that it’s related to the shooting, and that’s about it. Good enough?”
“I guess so.”
“First of all, I’m heading it up. And I could use your help.”
“I don’t file. I don’t type fast. And I’m a little too recognizable.”
She took off her glasses and pulled at hairpins. The knot came undone and a river of lustrous blond hair poured over her shoulders. The big man at the nearby table gawked at her. Deke didn’t notice, transfixed for a moment.
“See what I mean?”
“Huh. Yes. I do. Actually, that could be an advantage.” He set aside his scotch and soda, smiling at her.
“I’m not following you,” she said, puzzled.
“Let’s take this discussion outside. There’s no one on the terrace.”
Kelly hesitated, then decided to listen. She gathered up her things and walked past the big man, not glancing down. She didn’t need any more admirers, secret or not. The low hum of conversation and clink of glasses in the bar were shut out when Deke closed the door to the terrace behind them.
The infinity pool reflected the rising moon, which cast white light and deep shadows over the scene. Kelly stuffed her belongings into the handbag and set it on a chaise. She began to walk around the perimeter of the pool, hoping no one would come out for a night swim. Just looking at it soothed her restlessness.
“All right, Bannon. We’re alone. Talk me into it.”
“We’ve been following a trail of dirty money.”
“I want to be sure I understand, so pretend I’m not familiar with the term. And keep it simple,” she added.
Deke paused, searching for the right words. “Criminal enterprises generate a lot of cash, and they have to keep moving it around. They launder it, they smuggle it, they use it to finance other criminal enterprises. Drugs. Sex trafficking. Murder for hire. Following me so far?”
“Yes.”
He walked by her side. “We’re looking at a lot of people in the same web. Lately we zeroed in on someone you may have heard of. Gunther Bach.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she murmured.
“Bach is the CEO of a private bank here in Atlanta, and he only takes multimillionaires as clients. He may be running a pyramid scheme.”
Kelly shook her head. “You know, it’s really, really hard to feel sorry for people
who are rich and stupid. Tell me why I should care.”
“Get Bach on tape for me and you’ll have first crack at a story that’s bigger than anything you’ve ever done. I can’t give you all the details right now, but believe me, they’re juicy.”
She stopped. “And you mentioned that it’s related to the shooting.”
“Did I say that?”
Kelly rolled her eyes and sighed. “You know you did. Can we stay on topic here?”
“Sure.”
“How much risk is involved?”
“That’s hard to predict. Some. Not much.”
She didn’t press the point. “I don’t get what you’re hoping to achieve. If I ask Gunther Bach a few questions, he’s not going to confess to anything.”
“You’re right about that.” His dark eyes held an amused gleam. “I only need a clear sample of his voice on tape. We voice-identified all the bad guys but one on a wireless intercept of a secret meeting. If we can match a voiceprint closely enough to the unknown one on the intercept, it means he was there.”
“Which won’t put him out of business. That’s one piece of evidence.”
Deke waved that away. “But important for building a case and getting a warrant.”
Kelly folded her arms across her chest. Deke seemed to think he had her in the bag, judging by his expression. He didn’t.
“Look, we think Bach is looking to burnish his reputation and attract new clients. He’d jump at the chance to be interviewed by you. We can rig a smartphone. Just put it on the table next to your car keys. He’d be a pushover for all the moves you tried on me.”
“Excuse me?” Her tone grew noticeably cool.
“You know. The friendly smile. The soft voice. The leaning in.”
“That’s standard interview technique,” she said tightly. “I didn’t make any ‘moves’ on you, Bannon. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t aware I was being interviewed at the time.”
Kelly stopped pacing. “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”
“I’ll shut up while I’m ahead.”
She turned to face him and tapped him lightly on the chest. “You want something else, don’t you?”
He got right to the point. “The video from the shooting. It’s safest to transfer it to a flash drive. I’m assuming you have one.”
“You talk like this is a done deal,” she said indignantly. “It isn’t.”
“I need an answer by tomorrow.”
His reply seriously irked her. This was all about him.
“Why the urgency?”
“We’ve been tailing him. Bach may leave the country tomorrow. For good.”
“All right. I’ll call you by ten. But I’m not going to leave a message. You have to pick up.” She shouldn’t have encouraged him to the degree that she had. They were both angling for an advantage. Somehow she’d lost the round.
But a story was a story. She really did live for the rush. There was nothing like it.
“I’ll pick up. And if you say no, it’s not a problem.”
Kelly snorted. “We’ll see about that.”
“Now how about I buy you dinner? They serve a great steak.”
“No thanks.” She walked back to the chaise and picked up her overloaded bag. “I’m not really hungry. I need to get home and catch up on my sleep.”
He looked significantly disappointed. Tough luck. Taking the wind out of his sails was kind of fun.
“Deke—one more thing before we go any further. I think I was followed after I left the club last night. By two men. Any ideas on that?”
He straightened, serious again. The animal alertness came back. She liked that. She had nothing more to say as he walked her back to the glass doors and through the bar.
The big guy who’d been eying her was gone, and so were the affectionate couples. A new crowd of noisy singles had taken over the bar, with the women perched on the stools and the men standing by them and among them, vying for their attention.
“You sure?” he asked in a low voice when they reached the foyer by the elevators.
“I’ve been debating that most of the day. By now, yes, I’m sure. They didn’t do anything. There was only one at first. He just—got too close. Said things that were off. And then there was a car, going too fast.”
“Do you remember the plates?”
“No. It was way after midnight. I was scared.”
“Could you describe the first man if you had to?” Deke asked. He seemed suddenly very curious.
“Middle-aged. Very ordinary.”
“Anything stand out? You know, like a hairstyle or a birthmark?” He watched her closely.
“Nothing like that. He was well-groomed, had a nice suit—he was polite at first. I thought he was a fan. Then he came nearer without ever touching me. I had to step back. He totally creeped me out.”
If she had to guess, she would say Deke was making mental notes of every word.
“I was just glad to make it home in one piece.”
“And you live—”
“In a rented condo.”
“How’s the security?”
“There’s a doorman, day and night. Surveillance cameras. Valet parking—I don’t have to walk through a garage or a lot.”
“I’m driving home with you.” Deke held up a hand when she began to protest. “Separate cars. Don’t argue.”
Her phone rang the second the door shut behind her. Couldn’t be Deke, not so soon after he’d dropped her off. Kelly upended her purse on the couch and found the phone in the tumbled contents before the ringing stopped. It was Laura.
“Hi. I meant to call you.” Kelly felt a little guilty that she hadn’t. It wasn’t like she was nursing a grudge against Laura for doing the right thing and going to the cops before she got around to it. “How are you?”
“I’m all right, I guess. I just wanted to touch base. I haven’t been back to WBRX since—you know.”
“The shootout.” Laura could be awfully sensitive. Kelly believed in saying what needed to be said.
“It gave me nightmares. But it sort of helped me make up my mind,” Laura said.
“Huh?”
“Listen, I never told you, but I got a job offer, like, several weeks ago from a nonprofit gardening program. They do grow-it-yourself videos, apples to zucchini. I called them to see if the job was still open. It is. So I’m quitting, Kelly.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Kelly wasn’t that surprised. “Okay. But are you sure you want to film zucchinis growing? I mean, they grow fast, but not that fast.”
Laura laughed. “I’m sure. I’ll stop by the station soon. We can go out to lunch or something.”
“You bet. Looking forward to it.”
“Take care of yourself, Kelly.” Laura’s tone grew serious. “I mean it.”
“I will. You too.”
CHAPTER 6
Getting Gunther Bach to talk to her had been as simple as calling him from WBRX. His secretary had put her on hold and Bach had picked up a minute later, inviting her to an early lunch at one of Atlanta’s best restaurants when she told him—vaguely—that she was developing a feature story on finance.
She decided to drive herself to the restaurant, figuring she’d be back in plenty of time for hair and makeup before the evening broadcast. The car that the station provided for her was several spaces away and the driver was deep in a discussion of baseball with the parking lot guard.
After several wrong turns, Kelly spotted the restaurant and parked, entering through paneled doors in a rush. She was greeted at once by the maître d’, an older man, short and impeccably groomed, who welcomed her with a slight bow.
“Good afternoon, Miss Johns,” he said. “Mr. Bach is waiting for you. Please come this way.”
He motioned for her to follow him. The crowded restaurant was situated in the lobby of an expensive hotel favored by business executives. She got noticed as she walked by but lo
oked straight ahead, spotting Gunther Bach in a far corner.
And there was Deke, at a table set for one, absorbed in a menu. He didn’t look up as she brushed past. A tiny blue light flashed in the phone earpiece he wore. She peeked in her handbag—the bugged phone he’d given her glowed briefly.
Bach rose as she approached. A few female heads turned. He was tall and seemed fit for his age—almost fifty, by her guess—with silver hair combed back from his angular face.
Kelly slowed down, mentally noting additional details.
He wore a European-cut suit, and that chunk of gold on his wrist had to be a Rolex. His hands were large and strong, as if he could blast a tennis serve or choke the life out of a business competitor with equal ease. There was something unmistakably domineering in his stance. Intelligent eyes, the color of cold steel, surveyed her.
Kelly gave him a sunny smile. “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Traffic.”
“I understand.”
“Have you been waiting long?” She fished the bugged phone out of her purse and set it next to her car keys on the table.
“No.” He looked pointedly at the phone. “I do hope you won’t have to take a call during lunch.”
“I don’t have to. But I like to know who’s trying to reach me.” Kelly tapped the phone screen twice with a pink-polished fingernail. “That takes care of that. I can see the number and they can go straight to voicemail hell.”
“I consider myself honored,” Bach said dryly. He inclined his head. “Please sit down.”
The maître d’ pulled out a chair for her. Kelly slid into it, smoothing the skirt of her cream knit suit underneath her. She placed her handbag next to the phone and keys. Bach resumed his seat.
“I hope the restaurant meets your expectations. I find that the food is generally quite good.”
His accent was hard to place. It could be Swiss or German—she’d found both listed as his nationality on the Internet, on different sites.
“I’m sure it is.”
“Have you been here before?”
Kelly shook her head. “Never. I think I’ve been to every restaurant in Atlanta but this one.”
“Your presence has been noted.” That dry tone again. He warmed it up. “You are lovely, Kelly. More so in person than on the air.”