Know When to Hold Him (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

After hearing the ragged, raw pain in Spencer’s voice, he’d stayed up nearly the whole night,
What Ifs
and
Maybes
racing through his mind. Time and again, he reminded himself of the games she’d played, the lies she’d told. But the stone he called a heart kept returning to one sickening conclusion: Spencer believed what she had told him, believed he’d betrayed her.

The next morning, Liam headed straight to the Renegades’ offices and charmed some old records out of an administrative assistant. One question had been bothering him, since Spencer had sworn that Dalynn’s press release wasn’t her doing. There, in a file containing every PR memo and document relating to the Renegades’ stadium, Liam found out that Spencer had told the truth. Every document from Hightower & Associates was printed with a draft date that corresponded with the date of the e-mail or fax. And Dalynn’s dates didn’t add up.

Shit.

Dalynn had gone rogue.

If Spencer had sent the press release, she would have owned it. Maybe she would have spun it, but she would have owned it. And if Spencer had been right about Dalynn…

He headed to the airport to catch the next flight out of San Antonio, back to Dallas.

Back to her.

Spencer’s condo was just ten minutes from Love Field, and Liam soon found himself standing in the parking lot. It was nine o’clock in the morning, and Stuart appeared as fresh as a daisy for the day shift.

The grimness on Stuart’s face told him Liam wasn’t getting upstairs to the twenty-second floor.

“I need to see her.”

“I’m sure you do,” Stuart responded. “But I can’t let you up.”

“What did she say?” Liam fought the urge to go to the door anyway. Stuart was in his sixties. Liam could take him.

“She told me I can’t let you up anymore.”

Liam thrust two hands in his hair and made a frustrated noise. “She’s not picking up her phone. How am I supposed to explain…?” Liam didn’t finish the question. He wasn’t even sure what he was explaining. That he didn’t leak the Dimitri story? The problem was, he knew he hadn’t. But he wasn’t sure who had.

“That you didn’t screw up?” Stuart finished the question for him, in a blunt way.

“Yeah.” Liam clenched his fists and took a swing at the “NO UNATTENDED VEHICLES” sign.

“You think that’s going to do any good?”

Liam shook his fist out and squinted at Stuart. “I’m not going to just let this go. I have to fix this.”

“Then fix it, dumbass.”

Stuart’s blunt approach was starting to piss Liam off. Liam stalked toward the doorman, his right hand clenching and unclenching. “I’m trying to. You’re in the way.”

“No, you’re not trying to fix it. You’re trying to apologize. And women like ours? They don’t want to hear our sad sorrys. They want us to be a man and do something about it.”

That got Liam’s attention. “Is that what she said? Did she tell you that?”

Stuart shook his head. “Nope. She said, ‘Stuart, call a courier and send these to Mr. Connelly.’” Stuart reached behind the doorman’s podium and handed Liam two items. The first was a black suit jacket on a hanger. The second was a small brown paper bag with a handle from the local gourmet food store. Inside was a Blackberry with a flashing light indicating that there were messages. She hadn’t read his texts.

He swore colorfully and crumpled the brown paper in his hand. Liam hung his head in defeat, again calculating how fast Stuart could move. But it wouldn’t matter. If Spencer was even at home, he knew she would have no problem calling the Dallas PD to get him out of the building. And he liked Stuart. Liam really didn’t want to knock him down.

“What if I can’t fix it?” Liam finally asked the older man. “What do I do then?”

Stuart considered Liam. “Is there another woman?”

“God, no,” Liam spat.

“Did you steal from her?”

“No!”

Stuart frowned. “Then it’s fixable. Whatever it is.”

…

Liam was shown into JT’s office after being made to wait an interminable length of time. He wasn’t sure if that was a sign, but, as soon as he saw JT’s glum face, he knew it was. JT and Spencer had talked.

Liam knew what JT was going to say. “Don’t say it,” Liam threatened.

“Fine.” JT lifted his hands. “But I told you so.”

“I told you not to say that.”

“Well, I like being right. It happens so rarely, I like to memorialize the occasion. I might get a plaque. Right now, it’s just circled on my calendar.”

Liam leaned over JT’s desk, hands flat on piles of paperwork. “What did she tell you?”

“You fucked up. She doesn’t want to see you. I’m not supposed to put you two in the same room, even if you ask. She did say that I could still be friends with both of you, though, which I think is big of her.” JT leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “So the answer is no.”

“I didn’t ask you anything,” Liam snapped, as he paced in front of JT’s desk in a circle eight formation.

“I had this weird hunch you were about to ask me to help you with Spencer.”

“She won’t take my calls. She told Stuart not to let me up.”

“Who’s Stuart?”

“Her doorman.”

“Ah.” JT thought for a moment. “Phil will probably beat your head in if you try to go to her office.”

Liam’s mouth flattened. “Yeah. Thought about that.” Phil was a big guy.

“So you came here to ask for mediation.”

Liam paused in his pacing and faced JT. “She’ll listen to you.”

JT sat up in his chair. “I’m sorry, are we talking about the same woman? Tall, blond, pissed as hell? She doesn’t listen to me when she’s in a good mood.”

“You’ve known her for a long time…”

JT waved that off. “What do you want me to say? ‘Hey Spencer, Liam’s not as big of a jerk as you think he is, give him another chance’?” JT shook his head. “I’ve known her for long enough to know that she doesn’t bend that easily. For that matter, she doesn’t get pissed off easily. Whatever you did, it was serious. She didn’t grow up like you and I. The Hightowers are political animals. They’re used to bad press and people slamming them. They get back up and knock someone else down.” JT grimaced. “That’s why I stay on their good side.”

Something JT said caught Liam’s attention.
Political animals.

Liam stared at JT. “You’re right. She’s a political animal.”

JT stared back. “Yeah…is that what y’all are fighting about? Politics? Because that would be dumb. You should always agree with a woman about politics. They take that stuff personally.”

“She’s ruthless. She burns the bodies, buries them, makes sure they don’t come back from the dead.”

JT cocked his head. “Um…why are you talking about bodies? As a potential candidate for Attorney General, I don’t know that I need to hear about this…”

Liam rocked back on his heels and rubbed his palms together. “I have to be a fixer. Tie up all the loose ends. Bury the bodies.”

“Okay, seriously. I don’t want to know about burying anything, especially a body. It’s called plausible deniability.”

Liam wasn’t feeling hopeful, but a plan took root. He knocked on JT’s desk. “Thanks, buddy,” he barked before running out the door.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The first piece of the puzzle was in the research Jared had collected. According to Jared, George Clayton had volunteered a dossier of information on Dalynn Kay…and her representative, Spencer Hightower.

Anticipation coursed through Liam’s veins as the pieces fell into place.

Like George had said…every skeleton had been shaken out of the closet: Dalynn’s grades, her credit history, an arrest for drunk driving, a history of relationship updates on Facebook. There was less on Spencer: a brief bio and clippings about the presidential election.

George had even included a
Newsweek
headline calling Spencer’s accident the event that “Brought Down a Political Dynasty.”

Damn
. No wonder she was so determined to win everything. She never wanted to be blamed for bringing down another dynasty. Headlines were brutal and unforgiving.

According to the file, Liam hadn’t been the only person who called the security team at the White Rock Belle Mansion. But George Clayton had been the only one who had followed up with Dimitri.

The research file had a short statement from Dimitri that named Spencer and didn’t name Liam, who was described as a “burly bodyguard type.” Liam wondered if George had tried to figure that one out. Probably. He didn’t seem like the type to let a loose end go. Kind of like Spencer.

Liam stretched his neck and tried to relax. Firing Jared had been a certain kind of stress-reliever. It wasn’t that Jared had released dirt-technically, Liam had given him permission to do it. It was that Jared hadn’t used any judgment when he’d fired the loaded gun that George Clayton had handed him.

Liam understood now. Don’t go after a Hightower. Or anyone connected with them. Or anyone that they admire, like Troy. Because George Clayton would cut a bitch.

Liam flexed his right hand. He’d smacked Dimitri down for taking a shot at Spencer. He wanted a similar chance with Clayton.

Loose ends.
One at a time, Connelly
.

…

Roberta was easy to work with. An admirer of Spencer personally and professionally, she agreed readily to help Liam. Too readily, he realized, as he handed over the season tickets in OPM’s deluxe suite at Cowboys’ Stadium. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have an influential Dallas press insider on his side, for a change.

Anything that came up regarding Spencer Hightower or his clients and Roberta had him on speed dial. Any future stories about Dimitri Korolov and Spencer? Roberta assured him that, unless it was personally authorized by Spencer, the stories were dead on arrival. It was a deal.

It took a few more days to track Dimitri Korolov down. After all, Russian millionaires had all sorts of ways they could travel the globe these days, even through outer space. Still, Korolov had a business to run, and Liam heard of a meeting in New York. Dimitri’s company was searching for a spokesperson and Liam had just the candidate.

Liam let the professionals do the talking. Korolov’s stores had hip clothing for young adults. What they needed was the number one Draft pick in a hot ad campaign featuring lots of wet clothes and washboard abs.

Troy Duncan was available, and Dimitri was interested.

Liam entered the room and everyone else left, leaving Liam and Dimitri. Alone.

Dimitri’s eyes sharpened. “You. I remember you.”

Liam offered his hand. “Liam Connelly. I’m Troy Duncan’s agent.”

“What is this about?” Dimitri’s accent grew noticeably thicker.

Liam motioned toward the proposals left on the conference table. “Troy Duncan. He’s the ideal spokesperson for your stores.”

“What is this really about? You punched me.”

“You hit a lady. You deserved it.” Dimitri didn’t argue that point. Truth be told, Liam was a little disappointed. He wouldn’t mind taking another punch at the smug Russian.

“Here’s the deal, Dimitri. You get Troy Duncan for very good contract terms. And in exchange, you don’t speak about Spencer Hightower again. To anyone.”

Dimitri’s expression was stoic, calculating. “He said he was with immigration.”

Clayton.
“He wasn’t.” And Liam had a suspicion Dimitri knew that. But Clayton wasn’t above threatening immigration and he wasn’t above a few dirty moves of his own. “If you talk about what happened that night-to anyone-Troy’s record will be released. Then your company will have to deal with the fall out of a disgraced spokesman, without Spencer Hightower to help you recover this time.”

“But if I keep quiet, I get amazing publicity.”

Liam smirked. “It’s a good deal. I wouldn’t turn it down.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Dimitri sneered. “Does your client know he has such a terrible agent who will sell him out so easily?”

Liam shrugged. “Do we have an agreement?”

Dimitri’s suspicion remained. “What is in Troy’s record?”

“Something that Spencer Hightower was involved with.” Liam raised an eyebrow. Spencer wasn’t the only one who could bluff. “I believe you know that she only handles the most difficult issues. But I can tell you if you really want to know.”

Dimitri regarded the prepared poster, with the suggested advertisement images of a wet, shirtless Troy on some kind of farm truck, guaranteed to make teen girls spend twenty bucks on a T-shirt. “No. I do not care.”

“Then we have a deal.”

…

Liam left New York for Washington, D.C. before returning to Dallas.

The Senate was in session.

It wasn’t hard to get an appointment with the Senator—not for the agent of Troy Duncan, the newest San Antonio Renegade and all-around future American hero.

As he had been when Liam had met him before, Hayes Hightower was distinguished and collected, jovial in an official sort of way. There was a strong resemblance between Hayes and his daughter. Both were tall and carried themselves with a natural authority, and they had the same blue eyes that seemed to pierce and assess each situation with uncanny accuracy.

“Thank you for seeing me, Senator Hightower.” Liam was respectful even if he wasn’t all that impressed with the old, worn office.

“Of course.” Hayes waved at the couch. “Please sit.” The Senator sat across from him in a small, antique chair, with an upright wooden back. Liam, in contrast, sat deep into the overstuffed chintz, sinking lower than the Senator as soon as the goose down settled.
It’s a trap, Connelly.

It was a strange notion, and Liam tried to ignore it when Hayes was smooth and genial and asked Liam how he could help him. Liam chose his words with care. “I met with your chief of staff in New York.”

Hayes’ smooth charm didn’t falter. “Yes, he mentioned he had quite an experience at the Draft.”

Liam nodded. “I’m sure. Football is very different from politics. I guess Clayton thinks they’re similar.”

Hayes paused in his absentminded brushing of his sleeve. “Oh? How is that?”

“In football, we don’t keep trying to score after the referee has blown the whistle. Your man didn’t follow those rules.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Clayton leaked information about Dalynn Kay’s strategist after the paternity test came back negative. I can’t think of any reason for him to do that except to discredit her. To bury the bodies.”

Hayes lifted his chin. “I see.”

“Do you?” Liam scratched his two-day beard and made a face. “See, I don’t. I’m still kind of pissed about it.”

A thoughtful smile played on Hayes’ lips. “I noticed how you looked at my daughter at the Foundation dinner, Mr. Connelly.”

Liam settled back into the sofa, hanging an arm on the back, crossing his legs at the knee. “What did you see?”

“I saw a man infatuated with a beautiful woman.”

Liam held up a palm. “You saw a man in love with a beautiful woman. A man who doesn’t like that someone who’s supposed to be on her father’s side-if not her side-has tried to damage her reputation.”

“Why are you here, Mr. Connelly? Because if you knew my daughter well, you’d know that she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need her father-or her boyfriend-to do her dirty work.”

“Absolutely,” Liam agreed. “She did take care of it. But I’m tying up a few loose ends. I don’t like this hanging out there. Especially from a man like George Clayton, a man who, I’m betting, has a few items of dirty laundry hidden somewhere, especially after sixteen years of working in national electoral politics.”

Liam could tell when he hit a nerve. It was brief, and maybe it would only be visible to someone who had spent years on the football field, watching for a telltale flick of the eyes, or a subtle tensing of a wrist muscle.

Hayes hadn’t liked what he’d heard.

“What are you suggesting?” The Senator’s tone grew both bored and impatient, perfected after thirty years of knowing when to show lobbyists the door.

“George Clayton’s sabbatical.”

Hayes showed Liam a quick flash of teeth. “George is indispensable to a good campaign.”

“That’s why you’re going to suggest he volunteer his time to JT Buchanan’s campaign. It’ll reflect well on you, get George some grassroots experience in a state with a heck of a lot of electoral votes. And he’ll probably fucking hate it.”

Hayes leaned back in his chair, and Liam saw Hightower assessing him, evaluating the situation. When he’d apparently reached a conclusion, his tone was light. “I know George misses statewide politics.”

Liam knew that George missed no such thing. If Hayes Hightower sent George Clayton to JT’s campaign, it had as much to do with Texas’ support for Hightower in the presidential primary. But that’s how Liam had set this up. It was a gamble for Hightower. One with a high payoff and low risk. Which was why Hayes still looked skeptical even as Liam stood.

Hayes didn’t understand, Liam realized. But Liam wasn’t going to explain. George needed to be punished, and JT got a campaign manager. Liam handed over a small, folded piece of card stock. “Make sure George is there. It’s JT’s first big fundraiser. He’ll need his staff around him.”

Liam shook Hayes’ hand. Liam was in love with the man’s daughter, even if he’d never be sure that Hayes hadn’t told Clayton to do whatever necessary to protect Troy. But it wasn’t like Spencer couldn’t take care of herself. Or that Liam didn’t have her back.

Liam left the Senator’s office with a new spring in his step. Loose ends were coming together nicely. Now if he could just get Spencer to answer his messages…