Chapter 14
Sam
Suds must’ve stashed his rifle because he’s empty-handed as he trots down the sidewalk and joins Chrissy, me, and Slate waiting for our pizza. As I pay with our corporate credit card, he grabs the boxes. From here, it’s a short jaunt to Patten Securities so I’m surprised when my husband whistles for a cab.
A few blocks south, we pile into a posh lobby, sign our names, and after sharing a slice with the guard, take the elevator to the twelfth floor. Slate motions us into his office where Andy and Hands already sit in low chairs surrounding a glass table.
Stomach grumbling, I locate paper plates and napkins as the room’s primary occupant opens the fridge to retrieve cans of cold soda. For a moment, I consider a hard pass because of the diet but my mouth waters at the sight of gooey, cheesy goodness. I swear to the shoulder angel I’ll start again tomorrow while the devil grins.
Finished eating, our host sits back in his chair, and drops a bombshell. “If Ronnie is released, we can be ninety-nine percent sure she’s CIA.”
“Excuse me?” Andy coughs, his poker face broken for the first time I can recall.
“Well, think about it. She wasn’t worried about being arrested. I’m guessing she’s undercover.” The Patten man’s smile says he’s totally enjoyed catching the brilliant attorney off guard.
Hiding my grin, I glance at my hubby, working hard not to laugh.
“Maybe, she has an excellent lawyer.” Andy tries to recover but the other man has his argument prepared.
He counts on his fingers. “The pile of passports? The money? Trying to make Chrissy good for murder? Disposing of the body? It’s all way too convenient.”
“Maybe, the madam is connected to a crime syndicate.”
While they argue, I wander into the cube farm, sit at a spare desk, and call Dr. Jones on a secure line. After I explain what’s been going on, I ask for yet another favor. “Can you find out if our madam is a spy?”
“Their firewalls are airtight. Even if Jason could break through, and I’m not saying he could, he would be detected. Besides, I’d be arrested. However, there is another way.”
“I’m listening.”
“Ask your dad. If the CIA doesn’t want your nose in their business, they won’t be shy about asking him to back off.”
“Wait a second. Maybe they already have.” When I share the vague or-else threat outside the airport, she clucks her tongue.
“I don’t like this at all. Send me everything. If she doesn’t show up anywhere, you’re probably right.”
“I will.”I don’t know if her words make me feel better or more terrified.
“Be careful and stay in touch. I’ll let you know what I find.”
A sense we’re still missing a piece of the puzzle crosses my mind. “Wait. One more thing. Can you ask Jason to send me everything on Selena Bright from birth to present?”
“Sure, but it might take some time. I’ll ping you when he’s done.”
Hanging up, I amble back to Slate’s office and sit. “Dr. Jones is going to work on the CIA angle.”
Suds lifts me to his lap. “We were just discussing Selena. Washington is a mess. Judges have reversed long held opinions and Senators are getting rich on donations. What if Selena heard or saw something that could change the course of history? Would it be worth kidnapping her daughter to get her to talk?”
While Suds and I discuss possibilities, Slate receives a call. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
When he returns, his jaw ticks and his eyes blaze. “The paper pusher who negotiates our DC contracts just pulled the plug on all our bodyguard jobs.”
Fuck, no way. “Not happening. Here is what I suggest we do…”
