Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (16 page)

The answer came with gut-wrenching clarity: he wouldn’t.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

M
ARA SAT IN
silence for the first few minutes after they were airborne. It was nutty to think Raptor might try to shoot them down, wasn’t it?

But then, Raptor did have the best toys.

Now that they’d left Oahu and weren’t too exhausted to talk or fearful of being overheard, it was time for her to admit to herself—and to Curt—that she agreed with his assumption that Raptor, not just Evan, was after them.

Jesus, there was a hell of a lot they needed to discuss, starting with Agent Palea’s statement that Jeannie was a suspect in Roddy’s murder. But first, she needed to breathe. Just…breathe.

Oahu was far below them when she finally looked around and said the first thing that came to mind. “The art was nicer on the other jet.”

Curt laughed. “The other jet was owned by a billionaire. This jet is owned by JT Talon, who, while filthy rich, is not a billionaire.”

“Do you think he’s embarrassed by his lower-class private jet? I mean, there’s not even a separate bedroom.”

“I’m sure it’s a source of great shame.”

“I’m surprised the jet is from Talon & Drake, after you handled the prosecution of the smuggling case last year.”

“I’ve been friends with Lee Scott for twenty years. He arranged for the jet. And as far as the prosecution, the evidence was overwhelming. It was an easy plea agreement. The press made a big deal, because they didn’t want their big story to die.”

“Erica Kesling is a hero among archaeologists,” Mara said, referring to the woman who’d been at the center of the Talon & Drake artifact-smuggling scandal. “She’s engaged to your friend Lee, right?”

Curt nodded. “When we get to DC, I’ll introduce you. Up until you came along, she was the most famous—or infamous—archaeologist in the US. I’m sure she’s more than happy to pass the title on to you.”

Mara frowned at the reminder of her loss of privacy. She’d been changed by her experiences in North Korea—who wouldn’t be—but she hadn’t really considered yet how much her detainment would alter the way others viewed and treated her. Maybe Erica could offer advice on how to handle the media’s relentless scrutiny.

Curt unbuckled his seat belt and went to the bar, reminding her of the first minutes of their flight after they’d escaped North Korea.

“Do I get a real drink this time?” she asked.

“I think we’ve both earned one.” He opened the fridge, grinned, and pulled out a can of mass-produced American beer.

Mara shuddered. “I haven’t survived a firing squad, a bombing, a car accident, and an attempted shooting to have my first taste of beer in three months be that crap. Is there anything
good
in there?” She stood and crossed the aisle to his side.

Curt laughed. “Lee stocked this for me. He won’t touch the stuff. He included several microbrews too.”

“Good man.” She picked out a favorite.

Curt popped off the cap, then clinked his can against her bottle and said, “To getting the hell off Oahu.”

A mix of emotions flooded her. “And farther away from North Korea,” she added, then took a long swallow.

The tension in her shoulders left in a rush. Feeling dizzy, she leaned against the counter. The swaying of the jet must have gotten to her. Or was it her first taste of alcohol in months? Or the reminder that her life—whenever she got back to it—would never be the same? Whatever the cause, her knees and spine had turned to jelly.

Curt studied her, his hazel eyes full of concern. “You okay?”

She sighed. “I don’t know
what
I am.”

He cupped her cheek. “You’re amazing. That’s what you are.”

Her breath caught, and she leaned toward him. He shook his head as though breaking a trance and stepped backward. “You are also dangerous.” He turned and opened one cabinet after another until he pulled out a suitcase and said, “Thank you, Lee.” To Mara, he said, “He sent me clothes. I’m going to change.” He disappeared into the lavatory, leaving Mara to sip her beer and wonder who he would be when he came out.

She’d liked the casual, playful Curt, who’d flirted and teased and almost—damn, he’d been so close—given her the kiss of a lifetime in a Honolulu café. Now that they were alone, he’d likely put up barriers.

Damn controlling bastard. Alone was when the game could get interesting.

Several minutes later, he returned, clean-shaven and once again the high-profile prosecutor in a tailored suit. He was handsome and sexy either way, but she missed the rugged, casual Curt. “Aren’t you a little overdressed for flying?”

“The clothes are my armor.” He straightened his tie. “We need to talk.”

His tone said it all. The Shark was back. She flopped on the sofa in disappointment. “I know.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Mara.”

The metallic taste of fear invaded her mouth. How did he know? What did he know? All she wanted was to talk to Jeannie. After that, she’d know what to do. “What do you mean?”

“It’s probable that Evan Beck shot Roddy, ran us off the road, and shot at us as we tried to board the jet at Hickam.”

She nodded. Her throat was too dry to talk.

“He had access to the bases and a high-powered sniper rifle, he knows your car on sight, and he knew Roddy well enough to catch him by surprise, even as they met at your house in the middle of the night to do God knows what.”

She glanced down at her hands, unable to meet his gaze as he listed the reasons he believed her ex-lover had tried to kill her—and him.

“What I want to know is, why haven’t you told me everything?”

Nausea threatened. She regretted every bite of food she’d had at the café. “Everything?”

“About your engagement. And why you broke it off. I think, after all that’s happened, I deserve to know.”

M
ARA LOOKED SHOCKED.
And more than a little green. Good. She’d been too out of it yesterday to confront with the question, then last night he’d seen her exhaustion had reached debilitating levels, so he’d put off the conversation until morning. But alone with her on the boat—that had been far too dangerous to his ambitions, and the café had been far too public.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“I know everything about you.”

She shuddered. “Does everyone know? I mean, was it on the news?”

“No.” At her relieved expression he asked, “Why does it matter? You dumped him.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle. He ruthlessly shoved aside the part of him that had begun to care about her. She was a witness and a victim, not a friend.

“How did you know we were engaged?” she asked again.

“Your JPAC commander sent a dossier, which I read on the flight to North Korea.”

“How the hell did he know? Evan and I were engaged for all of three days. We hadn’t even announced it to family before I dumped him. Hell, the only person I’d told was Jeannie.”

“You get uptight every time your relationship with Evan comes up. What gives?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe the fact that he might be trying to kill us?”

“You were uncomfortable before that. Tell me.”

She huffed out a sigh and looked down. “Evan is a mercenary in every sense of the word. He was paid. To seduce me. Date me. Even marry me.”

Her face slowly reddened, as did his own. Hers, he was certain, in embarrassment, his in anger. He’d known Evan Beck and his father were both pricks from the moment he started investigating them, but to humiliate Mara in this way stirred violent impulses he’d been repressing for over twenty years.

“Who paid him?”

“His dad.”

“How do you know?”

She bit her bottom lip. “There were a gazillion clues, I just missed most of them at the time. Overheard conversations. Evan’s erratic treatment of me. He could be really charming, then, blammo—total ass. I’d walk, then he’d crawl back, turning up the charm. You see, if I dumped him, the gravy train would dry up.”

She studied her hand, spreading her ringless fingers. “Raptor—the company, not Evan’s dad—bought the god-awful ugly engagement ring.”

“How do you know that?”

“The insurance company needed the receipt. When I saw the paperwork with Raptor’s name on it, I knew. I’d wondered, because after we started dating, he bought a new car, an overpriced watch, and other items he shouldn’t have been able to afford.”

“His father is a very wealthy man.”

“But according to Evan, his dad wasn’t sharing. If Evan wanted a piece of the family business, he had to earn it. I was a shortcut into his dad’s good graces. Hell, my uncle was already working for the guy. I think having me as a daughter-in-law would somehow make Robert Beck feel like he owned Uncle Andrew.”

Given what he knew of the CEO, Curt had to agree. The man would buy a former president if he could, but they were out of his price range.

“Did you find proof Evan was paid?”

“Nothing that will help
you
, Mr. US Attorney, but enough to convince me Evan was making a tidy sum by screwing me.”

Curt flinched but continued. This was his job. “What did your uncle say?”

“He said he didn’t know anything about it, but Robert Beck had the right to give his son money if he wanted to.”

“But Raptor money
isn’t
just Beck’s money—not anymore. Your uncle owns twenty percent of Raptor.”

She glanced at him, surprise showing on her delicate features. “He’s got a lot of stock, but twenty percent? He can’t own that much.”

Curt cocked his head to the side. “Mara, don’t you know
why
I began investigating your uncle?”

“Of course. Uncle Andrew said it’s because he received stock options when he took the job at Raptor, and you thought the options were bribes—but it was a legitimate business arrangement.”

“They weren’t options, and they weren’t part of any standard employee package. Your uncle was
vested
with twenty percent of the company. Raptor is privately held. Can you tell me one good reason for Robert Beck to just give away one-fifth of his company? He bought Andrew Stevens’s political power and influence, just as he used his son to buy you.”

Anger flared in her deep blue eyes. “Evan didn’t
buy
me. I wasn’t interested in his father’s money. When I found out what was going on, I dumped Evan’s ass, took the gaudy pink diamond to a pawnshop, and donated the money to a Cambodian orphanage.”

He kept his face blank even as his foolish infatuation deepened. They had to stay on topic. “It must have been fun being deployed with him after that.”

“I switched teams. Jeannie and I weren’t supposed to go to North Korea, but the forensic archaeologists who were slated to go both got really sick just before the deployment.”

That
got his attention back to the subject at hand. “You weren’t supposed to be there?”

“JPAC was mindful of my family tree. They didn’t want to send me on the North Korea deployment. But when the time came, no one else was available. It was hell getting clearance to enter DPRK. We didn’t want to risk delaying. So I went.”

“What happened to the other archaeologists, the ones who got sick?”

“They were hospitalized but recovering when I left. The doctors said they’d contracted something on their previous mission in Indonesia.”

He’d be a fool if he didn’t suspect Raptor had engineered Mara’s and Jeannie’s inclusions in the North Korean deployment. “What did your uncle say when you told him you were going to North Korea?”

“I didn’t. He had too much on his mind with the trial. I didn’t want to worry him.”

Curt mulled this over. Mara’s earlier pronouncement came back to him.
“Egypt was lonely, and Evan was hot.”
He’d known already, but Mara’s words confirmed her relationship with Evan had begun in Egypt.

Egypt. The JPAC deployment Andrew Stevens had visited for a photo op, and while there, Curt was certain, met with and sold arms to a Janjaweed militia leader wanted by the International Criminal Court for war crimes committed in the Darfur region of Sudan.

The former vice president had used his visit to the JPAC deployment to discreetly meet with the Janjaweed killer, but Curt couldn’t prove the arms deal. Stevens had destroyed the evidence, forcing Curt to settle for the lesser charges of obstruction of justice and influence peddling.