Baker's Dozen Page 12

  “Hello, Amanda.” She swiveled. Carla’s dad stood with an older man and woman. His larger than life smile fit his larger than life body. “It’s been a while. You know the Senator and his wife, don’t you?”

  “Please repeat their names, so we know who you are talking to,” Tyler said in the earpiece. Andy exercised all her self-control to not roll her eyes or heave a sigh. Working alone was much easier.

  “Hello, Mr. Vehemia,” she said with some exaggeration as she shook his hand. She swiveled to greet the couple. Handsome, both of them, in their early sixties, maybe fifties. The Senator’s quick movements, the energy of his eyes, and the agility of mind belied his age. Andy kept up in politics, local as well as national. One could never be too informed.

  “Of course, Senator Granger,” she said, her gaze taking him in. “I’m always interested in national politics. I’m a huge fan of your Elimination of Greenhouse Gas bill in Congress requiring the new emissions converters. If you gain the presidential nominee, you can count on my vote this fall.”

  His eyes shone all the more. “Thank you, and thank you.” He smiled at Mr. Vehemia. “These are the young votes we can count on.” Then he turned to the woman with him. “This is my wife, Annette.”

  Senator Granger let go of his wife’s hand as she raised it for the introduction. Her lipstick was a little too bright for her faded colored hair. Her eyes were glassy and her gaze distant. Then the Senator grasped Andy’s hand in his. Andy’s knees wobbled a bit. She was shaking hands with one of the most powerful men in the whole country.

  The Senator was gorgeous, as you might expect from an actor-turned-politician. And an extremely skilled politician with oratory skills, charisma, and an ability to put everyone at ease. His completely gray hair betrayed his shockingly white, youthful smile. A genuine smile. He held her hand longer than necessary, and Andy realized his smile was flirtatious. Right here in front of his wife. Andy flushed.

  The Senator’s gaze, exploring and alert, never left Andy’s as he asked Carla’s dad for an introduction. “And who is this rapturously beautiful woman I have the pleasure of meeting?”

  Andy couldn’t meet his wife’s eye out of guilt. No, not guilt. She wasn’t flirting. But some weird feeling, some mixture of abhorrence and embarrassment made her ashamed to face the older woman. She wanted to retract her hand from his too-soft hand and run away. But the Senator held tight, his grip firm.

  Mr. Vehemia made the introductions. “Yes, Amanda Miller is as thick as thieves with my daughter Carla. You remember Carla?” The Senator nodded, dropping Andy’s hand. Then Mr. Vehemia asked Andy, “Is she here tonight?”

  Andy was amused. Mr. Vehemia could tell you the price of stock for his company, the rate of coal production, or the amount of wind energy produced by windmills, but he didn’t know his daughter’s schedule. Perhaps every father was like that. “I believe she had another engagement tonight, sir.”

  His phone must’ve buzzed because he removed it from his pocket and began texting. Carla’s dad shrugged his shoulders. “Girls,” he said, his gaze not leaving his device. “I can’t keep up with them.”

  Andy faced to the politician. “Senator Granger, I had the pleasure of performing in your eponymous theatre. I was in the troupe at the University.”

  “Oh? A fellow thespian, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re coming to my presidential fundraiser party in the theatre in two weeks?”

  Her earpiece talked over the question. “Okay, fangirl. Don’t waste time talking to the Senator.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said to the Senator. “You’ll excuse me. I think my date is searching for me.”

  She waved a little goodbye to Mrs. Granger who was more interested in her drink than social graces, and hurried away. Awkward.

  Conversation sparkled around the room from the best dressed in the city, arrayed in white elbow gloves. Yards of sequins, satins, gauze. And jewelry and tiaras. Bling worth more than several fortunes. The heavy smell of designer perfumes activated by heat, and cloying fresh flowers. She rushed to the other side of the room hoping to avoid any more awkward conversations.

  Too late.

  She bumped into a man wearing a powder-blue, early-sixties tux with a frothy, pink shirt front. At least his date dressed for this century. They made eye contact. Andy couldn’t avoid the conversation now. She switched modes, changing her body language to an insecure girl at a party.

  “Bethany,” Fred exclaimed. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  “Fred. Imagine me, like, bumping into you. Like, literally,” she said with her exaggerated ditzy “Bethany” voice.

  Fred stepped back to fully examine Andy. “Wow! You look, you look”—he gave her a melodramatic up-down, one influenced by too much bubbly—“you look amazing.”

  “Thanks. OMG. Like, what are you doing here?” Andy asked, glancing all around searching for Tyler, hoping he wouldn’t catch this interaction.

  Tyler whispered into her ear. “Now who are you talking to?” She wished the earpiece would go away.

  “Can I get you a drink, Bethany?” Fred asked. Andy caught the eye of his date who hadn’t been introduced yet. His date’s smile faded to a pasty frown as Fred effervesced.

  “You’re so sweet. I’m all good. But, like, thanks,” Andy said.

  “Bethany? Who is Bethany?” Tyler hissed in her ear. Andy exhaled, wishing to silence the questions. She just babbled on to Fred.

  “So, imagine us talking two times in one week,” Fred mused.

  “I don’t remember talking to you this week.” Andy didn’t have to try hard to be ditzy this time.

  Tyler spoke in her earpiece again. “Names, Andy, we need names.”

  Andy breathed deeply. There was no way she was divulging her contacts.

  Fred continued. “Well, I guess it’s been longer than a week now.”

  Andy’s reaction was true. Her confusion was not an act.

  Fred faced to his date. “Daryn, will you get me a drink?” Daryn frowned, giving Andy a poisoned stare before slipping away. Once she was gone, Fred moved closer, whispering. “You know,” he said. “The phone call.”

  Andy’s eyes widened. She caught her breath. The phone call. Andy’s face burned. “Uh,” she said.

  “The jackass who claimed to be on the police special forces. Did you ever figure out who he was?”

  Tyler cackled in her ear again, desperate and forceful. “What is he talking about, Andy?”

  Andy slid her comms unit out of her ear, smothering it between her thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, totally cleared it up. He’s, like, with the FBI.” Saying it aloud, she wasn’t so confident about her reply. “With, like, a totally different name.”

  “Interesting.” Fred absorbed this, thoughtfulness contracting his features. His date returned with a drink.

  “The music’s got a great beat,” Daryn said, handing him the drink, moving her shoulders, forcing herself against him. “We should try it.”

  Fred nodded. He shrugged to Andy with a reluctant half-grin, saying goodbye over his shoulder as Daryn drew him away. “I’d be careful with a guy who can’t even tell you his name. I’d want some proof.”

  Andy’s stomach clenched. Fred had a point. She didn’t have any proof. Just the word from an admitted liar.

  She slipped her comms unit into her drink and gave it to a waiter to discard. Her stomach clenched and roiled.

  ****

  Tyler slid up behind Andy. “Where have you been?”

  “My comms unit. I think it fell out,” she managed to say from a tight-lipped smile.

  Tyler didn’t challenge her on it, though he knew it was a lie. He bowed a bit, speaking to his mike. “Andy’s ears are gone.” Brushing his tuxedo, he returned to Andy. “At least I have mine. We’ll just have to make sure we don’t get separated. You can’t leave my side the rest of the night. Here’s the low-down. There’s security at every exit. At the elevators and at every door.”


  Andy stiffened. “What’s our next move?”

  “Dance.” He held out his gloved hand.

  “Excuse me?” Andy leaned forward to catch what he said.

  The music filled the air, couples moved toward the dance floor in droves, gracefully turning in circles to the music.

  Tyler persisted. “Will you dance with me?”

  “You don’t think this is very serious.”

  “I’m improvising. We have to dance or it will be obvious we don’t know anyone here.”

  Andy stood rigid even as he slid his hands around her. She kept her distance from Tyler, but allowed him to guide her in a circle around the floor.

  “Relax,” Tyler said. “While I was gone, I put in place a diversion to evade security. It will be an easy in-and-out job. We go upstairs, find the aquarium, pluck up our jump drive, and come back to rejoin the party. We won’t need communications unless something goes wrong. And,” he quickly added before Andy could contradict him, “nothing will go wrong. Enjoy the music, the dancing.”

  Andy’s shoulders relaxed a little. He moved closer, mentally blocking everything else out. He only had eyes for the girl in shimmering pink in front of him.

  Tyler leaned closer, tilting his head. “You are dancing with”—he scanned the room of gray-haired and simpering men in way overdone tuxes—“what appears to be the hottest guy in the room.”

  “With the smallest paycheck.”

  “But the greatest kick-ass skills.”

  Andy snorted. “Are you always on?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Are you always, you know, playing some role, telling some lie, trying to get information out of a mark? How can I ever trust you?”

  Tyler’s hurt only passed briefly on his face as he searched her hard expression. He’d been taught to control his emotions. But in this case, he wanted her to see it. To make him appear more vulnerable. Sometimes he wondered if he was always acting. Some part of him hoped not. He didn’t want to lose his humanity. Sometimes he didn’t know if he was acting with her.

  “And how can I trust you? You know using deception in journalism isn’t always considered ethical.”

  Andy’s eyebrows gathered. “You think I like lying? I only use it as a last resort, for particularly nasty cases where it would be impossible to obtain the truth otherwise. Most of the time it’s just sheer hard work and elbow grease like every other journalist.”

  “I just think you could use those skills in a better way.”

  In the midst of the press of people, she stepped back from his embrace in the middle of the dance floor. “I need some air.”

  “Andy what I meant—” But she was gone.

  Hiking up her skirt, she shouldered her way out of the well-heeled, well-jeweled dancing tangle around them. She slipped out an open French door near a glittering pink fountain, foaming with drink. The doors opened to a terrace, ensconced with greenery and bushes, overlooking a garden and farther away, a boat dock to the Mississippi. Once outside, the fresh air and moon glow softened her anger, but the muffled music soothed her nerves. Who was he to talk to her that way? Her throat was dry, she wished she’d grabbed a drink on her way out the door.

  The wind picked up, blowing her hair, raising goosebumps on her skin. The weather had turned chilly. Andy moved to an unoccupied stone bench next to a couple deep in conversation and stared out across the black, swiftly moving Mississippi River.

  Andy wondered if Tyler was even real. FBI. Police. It didn’t matter. She only wanted one thing to be real. But he told her he lies. And he picked at her. But their emotional connection meant something to her, even if it didn’t mean anything to him. Something happened to her, something burned him into her heart, and she couldn’t let it go. Ironically, when she finally found someone, someone she could love with all of her heart, someone who instinctively understood her, he ended up being a compulsive liar and dangerous.

  A tear slipped down her check. Ah, a measure of weakness. She couldn’t cry when her dad didn’t return. She didn’t cry when Conner broke her heart. She didn’t even cry when Brad was brutally beaten to death. She wasn’t about to cry over a stupid guy. She wiped it away with her gloved fingertip. She loved him, and she wished she hated him.

  “There you are,” said a voice behind her.

  She swiveled. Tyler was back-lit by the large French doors, his broad shoulders and his unmistakable build filled the doorway. Andy quickly hid her tears, stuffed them down deep. “We should stay together,” he said.

  Andy couldn’t tell if he was annoyed. There was an edge in his voice. He stalked toward her. “Never leave your partner on an assignment without comms. I didn’t know where you were going.”

  “I told you I needed air.”

  “What is up with you anyway?”

  Andy gulped, but she hoped it wasn’t obvious. “What do you mean?”

  “You can be honest. I removed my unit. I know the comms have been bothering you all night.” He held out the little, silver device in his palm, then stuffed it in his pocket.

  Andy averted her gaze from him to the glittering reflection across the river.

  She couldn’t tell him how she ached for him, how dancing in his arms was torture far worse than any needles or hacksaws could do. She craved intimacy with him, yet couldn’t trust him. He used her. If she could force those negative experiences to crowd out her growing admiration and respect for him, then she could remain in control.

  “I know what you need,” he said, stepping nearer.

  Suspicious, Andy readied herself for an attack. Even in her dress, she could still give a roundhouse kick to the head. “You do? What?”

  Instead of answering, he slid his arms around her waist, drawing her close, crushing her bodice into his chest. At first, she struggled, fighting it physically and in her heart. But he calmed her with a fingertip on her chin. He tilted it upward, placing his warm lips on hers. Andy softened in the security of his strong arms.

  Andy’s heart raced, a warmth spreading through her. She fought desire as he tenderly parted her lips with his, slipped his hands onto her skin on her back, and secured her against him. Andy couldn’t fight him any longer. He wasn’t a mark with poor hygiene, bad manners and a prison record. This was a man. A real man.

  She encircled his neck stroking his velvety hair, inhaling his intoxicating breath, surrendering to his enticing smell, the strength of his embrace.

  Then the fire alarm sounded.

  Chapter Nine

  Tyler broke first from the embrace, lips swollen, breathing heavy, questioning the sound coming from the building. It was just too coincidental.

  “Is this part of your plan?” Andy asked.

  Tyler shifted, glancing back to her. “No, but we’re going to take advantage of it.” And hopefully arrive first.

  Grabbing her hand, they slalomed through thick skirted guests and panicked musicians scurrying toward the exit.

  Tyler tugged on Andy’s hand. “Stay at the back of the crowd.”

  Without drawing too much attention, he scanned the security detail, waiting for their break. He needed a distraction.

  Then he recognized an opening. Security stepped away to convince an inebriated elderly lady to leave behind her mink.

  “Now’s our chance,” Tyler said.

  Hand in hand, they sprinted away from security and the crowd down the hall to the elevator lobby.

  He punched the button. Nothing lit up. No little bells dinged. He swore. “The elevators automatically stop when the fire alarm goes off.”

  “I’ve got a fireman’s key.” Andy hiked up her skirt.

  “No time.”

  “Stairs?” Andy asked.

  “Stairs.” Tyler led the way and opened the door. The sirens continued to scream as they mounted the first flight of stairs. “Your dress is slowing us down,” Tyler said, his voice echoing off the cement walls. “Does it come off?”

  “It is detachable. But we need this stu
ff. You’ll thank me later.”

  “Stuff? Is that why it’s so floofy?”

  “Floofy? Do you get to make up your own English?”

  “Pshaw.”

  With her arms full of skirt, Andy bounded past him. “Stop talking,” she said over her shoulder to him. “You’re slowing us down.”

  He chuckled as he climbed the stairs two at a time to keep up with her.

  When they arrived at the seventeenth floor, she was scarce out of breath.

  “Through there,” he said consulting the map which Andy had taken from her purse. They threaded through the halls to the coded door.

  “Do you trust me with the entry code now?” he asked.

  Andy’s eyebrow arched. She faced away from him and dug into her bodice. Tyler rolled his eyes. Andy punched in the entry code.

  Peeking in the windowed door, he noticed the office divided into four sections. Across from them, windows framed the night skyline of the city. Andy opened the door in almost a hallowed silence, like visiting a tomb of a loved-one. The only sound was the soothing gurgle of the aquarium.

  “There,” Andy said. The tank glowed in the darkened room.

  Tyler grabbed her before she could enter. “Someone’s here,” Tyler whispered. A man in a white catering jacket crouched in the shadows, searching behind the aquarium.

  “Who are you?” Andy asked racing in although Tyler restrained her.

  The man jumped up, pocketed something and darted out a side doorway.

  “I think he’s got it,” Andy said.

  “Stay here,” Tyler called over his shoulder as he followed him out the door.

  Andy ran across the industrial carpet to the aquarium, the low hum of the oxygenator the only sound in the room.

  “Please let it still be here,” she whispered.

  She slid her fingers between the wall and glass. Andy willed her fingers to clasp around the jump drive. She scraped both the window and the glass. Nothing.

  Andy’s heart plummeted. It was like hearing and feeling Brad die all over again. Frustration boiled in her heart, clinched her jaw, and inflated her lungs. Feeling powerless, she let her fist fly out and hit the wall. A framed picture of an ink blot, red as blood, rattled under her rage. She couldn’t fail Brad. This was the last thing he’d asked of Andy.