Extreme Exposure (33 page)

He forced it down, forced himself to focus. He hadn’t come here to win a popularity contest or to sort out his thoughts. He had important work to do.

The message light on his phone blinked red. Melanie had probably left him just as many messages here as she had on his cell phone. He’d called her back before leaving the justice center. She’d been frantic and had burst into tears when she’d heard his voice. She’d offered to house him, feed him, get him drunk on his favorite scotch, and beat the shit out of any reporter who came near her house. But what had touched him most was her absolute faith in him. She hadn’t once asked him if he was innocent or guilty.

He’d told her he had things to handle at the Capitol but that he’d get back to her later about his plans for the night. As he’d hung up, he’d felt for the first time since his father’s death that he had real family.

He sat at his desk, waded through his messages—most of
them from Melanie, the rest from reporters—and then turned to his computer. The first thing he needed to do was make certain that his tire-burning bill was on tomorrow’s Senate agenda. He was going to kill his own bill, and he was going to kill it in the most public way he could—on the Senate floor.

Then he needed to get in touch with Kara somehow to tell her about Northrup’s relationship with TexaMent.

He called up the bill status database and discovered that someone had already placed the bill on tomorrow’s agenda. In fact, someone had placed it on today’s agenda, but it had been postponed when a dispute over Western Slope water rights ate up most of the day’s session.

And then it clicked. Stanfield had wanted him out of the way so the tire-burning bill, which had already passed second reading, could be passed before Reece had a chance to kill it. The bastard had been so cool on the phone last night.

“I guess we each have our jobs to do, Senator,” he’d said, almost as if Reece’s announcement that he was killing the tire-burning bill hadn’t fazed him at all.

“Yes, we do. And part of mine is making certain Kara McMillan is safe. I don’t know who is trying to kill her, but I’m warning you to stay away from her. Leave her alone, Stanfield!”

“Get a hold of yourself, Senator. You’re beginning to sound like a lunatic.”

Reece was willing to bet that as soon as he’d hung up the phone, Stanfield had gotten busy arranging to frame him for murder. He couldn’t prove it, of course. He’d shared what he knew for certain with Chief Irving, who’d watched him through emotionless blue eyes that said he’d heard it all before—false protestations of innocence, lame excuses for guilt, the screams of the abused, the bereaved, the dying.

He’d written down a few names—TexaMent, Northrup, Mike Stanfield. “And this is the same company Ms. McMillan is investigating?”

“Yeah.”

Reece had to give Stanfield credit. With one terrible act, he’d destroyed Reece’s credibility, at least until he was cleared. He’d isolated Reece, humiliated him, kept him out of the Capitol for a day. And he’d disarmed him—he wouldn’t get his pistol back until he’d been cleared. But Stanfield wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. Someone had to have acted to get the bill placed on today’s agenda, and that information would be part of the record somewhere. Whichever senator had changed the agenda surely had ties to Northrup and was the person Kara was trying to expose.

Reece read through the minutes for the day’s session and sneered at the computer screen. “Devlin.” The jerk could never say no to people with money.

In his trouser pocket, his cell phone vibrated. He withdrew it, saw that the caller’s number was blocked, and hesitated. A reporter? “Reece Sheridan.”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Christ, Kara, it’s good to hear your voice!” And it was.

“This shouldn’t be happening to you.”

“I want you to know that I didn’t—”

“Don’t you even say it! If you think for one minute that I have even the slightest doubt about you, then I’m going to kick your very fine ass.”

He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, felt relief rush through him. He hadn’t realized until that moment how essential it was to him that she believe him. “Thanks.”

“The news coverage has been terrible. If I were in charge, there’d be some reporters going back to j-school for a refresher course on ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ ”

At the moment, he couldn’t care less what reporters were saying. Kara believed in him, and that was enough. He knew he was grinning like an idiot. “Are you safe?”

“Safe as a gold bar at Fort Knox.”

“Good, because they’re relentless.”

“I know. They did this, didn’t they? The same people who tried to kill me killed her to hurt you.”

“I think so.” He needed to tell her. “I called the CEO of
TexaMent last night to let him know I was pulling my support for the tire-burning bill.”

“The bill Northrup wants passed?”

“TexaMent is Northrup, Kara. They own Northrup. They bought it almost ten years ago.”

“When did you find—?”

“Last night. I wanted to tell you, but it was late and I wasn’t sure how to reach you. I was about to call Chief Irving and ask him to relay the information.”

“Where are you?”

“At the Capitol.”

“My God, you’re brave!”

Someone knocked on his door, and Miguel popped his head inside. “Reece, I . . . oh. I’ll wait outside,
amigo.
”

The day was getting better. Among his colleagues, Miguel, at least, hadn’t deserted him. He nodded to Miguel, who saw the phone, smiled, and ducked out to wait outside his office door.

“How’s the investigation going on your end?” Reece didn’t want to hang up. He didn’t want to say good-bye. He needed her.

“Not great. There are still too many pieces of the puzzle missing. But with this new information, I might be able to shake something loose. So far the only senator I’ve been able to find with ties to Northrup is you.”

“I have a few thoughts about that.” His gaze fixed on Devlin’s name on his computer screen. He pulled a flash drive out of his desk drawer, attached it to his USB port, and hit copy.

Her next words took him by surprise. “I need to see you. Please, Reece, I have to see you.”

“There’s no way, Kara. You know that. I won’t do anything that puts you in danger. I’m not exactly low profile these days. If I drive up in front of wherever they’ve got you hidden, someone is likely to film it and put it on the six o’clock news. Hell, the TV crews are probably staked out on my front lawn.”

“Then don’t go home. Wait until after dark, and take a cab from the Capitol.” Then she told him where she was and rattled off instructions on how to get to her.

He tried not to listen. “Kara, we both know this is a bad idea.”

“Bring whatever documents you have—disks, files, whatever you can grab. With my understanding of Northrup and your knowledge of how things work at the Capitol, we ought to be able to piece this together faster.”

“What about your rule that you and I not discuss our jobs?”

For a moment she said nothing. “It’s our lives we’re talking about now, Reece. Please come.”

What if they followed him? What if he led them to her? He couldn’t take that risk. “I’ll be there in two hours.”

Chief Irving was going to have his hide.

K
ARA GLANCED
at her watch. He ought to have been here ten minutes ago.

She stood in the doorway to her room, where she’d be able to hear him knock on the stairwell door at the end of the hallway. It was locked from the inside, but she’d already tested it and knew she could open it. There were no security cameras in the stairwells—she’d scouted for them—so all he had to do was climb thirty flights of stairs. Then she would let him in, and no one would be the wiser. Even if the bastards had followed him, they couldn’t get to her. She wasn’t going to open the stairwell door for anyone else.

She was about to call him again, when she heard it—the rap of knuckles against metal. She hurried to the end of the hallway, glanced through the skinny rectangular window, felt her pulse trip when she saw his face, and opened the door.

“Nice workout.” Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, but he wasn’t particularly out of breath. His jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he still wore the clothes he’d been
wearing on television—starched white shirt, red suspenders, cute little bow tie. Classy. He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you back inside.”

He tested the stairwell door to make certain it shut behind him, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder and walked with her into the suite.

“So what do you think?” Kara locked the door behind him and watched the expression on his face as he took in their surroundings.

“Not bad for a hidey-hole.” He grinned, but she could see the lines of strain on his face, the shadows in his eyes. He tossed his jacket over a chair, pulled her gently into his arms, and buried his face in her hair. “God, it’s good to see you.”

For a moment they just stood there, just held one another. He was warm from his climb up the stairs, his scent and the strength of his body both familiar and reassuring. But for the first time since she’d met him, Kara felt the vulnerability beneath that strength. Somehow, his anguish seeped into her. Her heart gave a painful lurch, and hot tears came from nowhere to blur her vision.

She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know how much he meant to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Instead, she stood on her toes, brushed her lips over the day’s growth of stubble on his cheek, and left a trail of kisses down his jaw to his throat.

He took her chin between his thumbs, searched her face, his brow furrowed. “Are those tears for me?”

She answered him in the only way she could, by taking his mouth with hers. His lips were soft, warm, pliant, and at first he let her set the pace. But when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he ended the kiss and pulled back.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His palm pressed gently against her healing ribs.

She pressed a finger to his lips and fought past her tears to find her voice. “Shut up.”

CHAPTER 25

W
HEN SHE
kissed him again, Reece took what she offered, accepted the soft stroke of her tongue, the press of her soft body against his, the fisting of her hands in his hair. He tasted the salt of her tears, felt her shiver, and wondered at this intensity of emotion that seemed to be coursing through her.

Her fingers left his hair, found the ends of his bow tie, tugged, and then moved to unbutton his shirt. And still she took the kiss deeper, her mouth mating with his with an urgency and tenderness that unleashed an ache in his chest.

She was giving
. For the first time since he’d known her, she was giving of herself, not just her body, but from her core. The realization broke over him like the crest of a wave, robbed him of breath, left him feeling stunned, shaken, naked.

He forced himself to stand passive as she pulled his suspenders over his shoulders and removed first his shirt, then his undershirt. Heat speared into his groin as her hands and lips explored his chest. And then she was on her knees before him, tugging on his zipper, stroking the length of him, taking him into her mouth.

Her lips were hot against his engorged flesh as she stroked him, her mouth and hand working in tandem. And her tongue—Holy Jesus God, what was she doing? Air hissed from between his clenched teeth. He buried his fingers
in the silk of her hair, matched her rhythm, and let the force of her hunger carry him to the smoldering brink.

“Stop!” He fought for control and looked down into her confused eyes. “Not like this.”

He lifted her to her feet and unbuttoned her blouse, taking time to run the silky cloth over her bared breasts. Then he peeled away her jeans and panties and lifted her sweet body into his arms. “Where’s the bed?”

She pointed, then wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against him. God, it felt good—that intimate little gesture of trust, of need, of surrender. He carried her down a short hallway, into the darkened bedroom, and laid her down in the middle of the enormous bed.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her hair lay in a tangled mass over her breasts, one wine-colored nipple peeking through, begging to be licked. Yellow bruises stained her skin, a reminder to Reece of how close he’d come to losing her. He stretched himself out beside her and captured her mouth for another kiss.

Knowing hands sought out the most sensitive places, the surest ways to please. Skin slid over soft skin. Bodies twisted and rolled.

Burning for her, Reece could wait no longer. He settled himself between her thighs. “Don’t close your eyes, Kara. Look at me!”

Kara did as he demanded and immediately lost herself in the tangle of emotions she saw there—lust, protectiveness, tenderness. And love. Yes, love.

Their moans mingled as he nudged his way inch by inch inside her and began to thrust in slow, silky strokes, his gaze never leaving hers. He felt so good, so absolutely right, and the tears she’d gotten under control only minutes ago trickled down her temples.

“Ah, Kara, sweetheart.” He ducked down, kissed the wetness, and looked at her through eyes that seemed to understand.

The first orgasm took her by surprise, rolling through her like a tidal wave set on slow motion. Her gasp became a low, shuddering moan and then a cry as the pleasure overtook her, swelled, and grew even stronger. She dug her nails into the sweat-slick skin of his back and tried to ride it out. Still he kept the pace slow, his thrusts extending her climax until it became another.

“Reece, oh, God!” She panted his name, wrapped her legs around him, and pulled him closer, deeper.

She heard his breath catch, felt his muscles tense, felt his control slip. In the span of a heartbeat he was driving into her with a rhythm that had her hurtling toward yet another peak. But this time, he soared with her over that sweet edge into a void that held nothing but shattering bliss, nothing but skin and breath and entwined limbs. Nothing but the two of them.