Our Little Secret (35 page)

“Sex toys?”

“Senator Creighton has a drawer full of them.”

He grinned. “That sly dog. I should have guessed.” He took her roughly by the shoulders, turning her toward the stairs. “Lead the way.” Before she could move he pulled her back against him, nuzzling her neck and growling, “I can’t wait.”

He grabbed her bottom for a pinch, which was all she needed to make her rush up the stairs and into Senator Creighton’s bedroom.

Pierson was right behind her. “Where are they?”

“Right here.” She opened the nightstand drawer and moved the tissue box, exposing the collection.

He looked. “Interesting. How did you know about these?”

She folded her arms because it put something between them and gave an illusion that she wasn’t one item of clothing away from naked. “Drew and I were, uh, looking for something to do.”

He gave her a wolfish smile. “Damn. You should have called me.”

“Well, you’re here now, Senator. And Drew’s not.”

And if her idea didn’t work, she was going to be wolf food.

His lip curved into a smug smile. “If we’re going to be
friends
, Lauren, you can call me Paul.” He emphasized friends in a way that gave it a whole new definition.

Lauren tipped her head and pretended to give it careful consideration. “Paul… hmm. I think I’d rather call you ‘senator.’ It’s so… commanding.”

It was a sickening performance, all coy and sweet, but he went for it. Unfortunately, he went for more, grabbing her by her upper arms and pulling her close. “That’s what you like, eh? A commanding lover?”

He’d been preparing; the scent of breath mints nearly knocked her out. “Yes,” she said, not having to try for a breathless whisper, since she was trying not to inhale. “But there seems to be a problem.”

He frowned. “What problem?”

“Look at you.” She patted his lapel, then stroked down his arms so he’d have to let go of her. “You’re wearing a suit. You’re fully dressed, and I’m…” She glanced at her robe before giving him another playful smile. “… not.”

He raked a hot look to the sash at her waist. “I noticed.” She anticipated his move for the belt and
pushed him away. “Uh-uh, Senator,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “You first. I gave you a preview while I was on the phone, and now I want to see what I’m getting. After that,” she fondled her belt, “I’ll show you what you’re getting.” She purred seductively.

Yech.
She was disgusting. Revolting. Afraid she’d overplayed the scene, Lauren prepared to laugh at herself.

She stopped just in time.

He was mesmerized. Staring at the loosely tied knot at her waist, he began unbuckling his belt. Dragging his shirt out of the way, he fumbled with the button on his pants, clumsy in his haste to get out of his clothes.

Too fast! At this rate he’d be naked and pawing at her robe before her posse of rescuers could even MapQuest the address.

“Whoa there, sugar, slow down.” Sugar? Lauren felt like she was channeling a hooker.

Pierson leered at her. “Just trying to show you the goods, doll. And once you see it, you’re gonna want it. Bad.”

“I’m sure I will.” Remarkably, she didn’t choke on the words. “But you have to tease a lady, take your time.” She wiggled a finger, indicating his chest. “Start with your shirt.”

He yanked his tie off in a couple quick moves. Starting in on the shirt buttons, he cocked his head at her. “I was kinda hopin’ you weren’t a lady, if you know what I mean.”

She didn’t, and preferred to leave it that way, but gave him a promising lift of her eyebrow.

The buttons were undone, and Lauren silently thanked God for the cuff links that slowed him down
for half a minute before the shirt hit the floor. His undershirt fell on top of it.

Pierson took a moment to inhale deeply, puffing his densely furred chest at her. She supposed a compliment was expected.

“Very nice,” she said.

The side of his mouth curled in a roguish, James Dean way. “Women like a man with a hairy chest. You can touch it,” he invited.

“Mmm, that’s tempting, but I think I’ll wait and touch everything at once.”
Where in the hell were those Secret Service agents?

“Then get ready to touch something special,” Pierson growled, and dropped his pants.

Lauren couldn’t miss the bulge in his boxers, and snapped her eyes shut before she blushed. Women like whoever she was pretending to be probably didn’t blush at the evidence of a man’s arousal. They probably gave it a frank stare. So she cracked her eyelids, hoping her slitted gaze resembled heated bliss, and looked at Pierson’s hip as he lowered the boxers.

She gave it a full five seconds, then met his eyes. And smiled.
And the Oscar goes to Lauren Sutherland.

He grinned back, teeth bared. “Your turn,” he said.

Drew took another corner at something approaching Mach 1, sending the Ford into a sideways slide. Brakes squealed and Chapman cursed as his shoulder hit the window.

“Goddamn it! This is government property, Creighton!”

The car rocked, then steadied, and Drew spared a glance at his passenger. “You or the car?”

Chapman sent him a scorching look. “Both. Do you think you can keep all four wheels on the ground long enough for me to make this phone call?”

At least he hadn’t told him to slow down, not since his call to Lauren. Drew gave him credit for that, especially since Chapman realized his partner was heading into an ambush, along with Gerald and Mihaly. It had to be making him crazy. All they could do was call and warn Renke. Drew wasn’t about to change course, and Chapman hadn’t asked him to.

Speed turned the dotted white lines into one continuous white line. Drew’s gaze darted between the
road and Chapman as he waited for the call to go through. “Come on, what’s taking so long? Call them!” he snapped, as tense as Chapman.

“I did! He isn’t answering!” He muttered a litany of swear words as he hit end and redialed. After a few more nerve-racking moments, he straightened with a jerk. “Renke! Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

Drew listened with growing anxiety as Chapman yelled, “Who?” then added in alarm, “What the fuck’s going on there?”

“What? What’s wrong?” Drew demanded.

“Hell if I know. I’ve got your dad’s fuckin’ assistant answering my partner’s cell phone, and I can’t think of any good reason why that would happen. Then he tells me to hang on ’cause he can’t talk right now, like I’m calling during his fuckin’ lunch break. What the fuck!” Chapman yelled the last part into the phone so Gerald could appreciate his anger, too.

“Give it here, let me talk to him,” Drew said, holding out his hand. At the same time he made a quick, one-handed correction with the wheel, which translated to an eighty-mile-an-hour lurch into the next lane.

“Fuck that. You’re barely keeping us alive as it is.” He flicked the phone to speaker mode and held it between them. “Talk to him.”

“Gerald? What’s going on?”

A few seconds of silence followed, and Drew was about to repeat his demand in a testier tone, when they heard rustling. “Damn it, keep your panties on,” Gerald said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m turning the volume off. Stand by.”

Chapman almost looked pleased at Drew’s frustrated swearing. “You see? I swear to God, if that
stupid little jerk took Renke’s phone and is playing amateur secret agent, I’ll wring his scrawny neck. He could be putting my partner in danger! The guy gets a hair up his ass just because he got his precious coat ripped when he interfered with an agent acting in the line of duty, and now he’s acting out some petty vendetta against government agents—”

“Hey, whoa, back off, Chapman,” Drew said. He figured he already deserved credit for not telling the guy to shove it up his ass. “You don’t know Gerald. Petty, maybe. But stupid? Never. He’s one of the brightest people I know. He’s not playing at anything. Shut up and wait until we find out what’s happening.” If Gerald really was doing something just to annoy Renke, Drew would personally hold him down while Chapman wrung his neck.

Another quarter mile of highway flashed by before they heard more rustling from the phone, followed by Gerald’s low voice. “Okay, I think it’s safe. Talk to me. But keep it down.”

Chapman snarled at his phone, but followed directions. “
You
talk to
me
. Start by telling me where Renke is.”

“Certainly. Your dumbass partner is about sixty yards away from me, stalking through the woods like friggin’ Davy Crockett.”

“Well, get him!” Chapman kept his voice down, but Drew thought he might be close to rupturing an artery from the effort.

“I can’t get him,” Gerald hissed back. “We’re in the middle of a covert operation here. We don’t have time for chitchat.”

Chapman stared at the phone in his hand as if it
had suddenly turned into something rank and slimy. Drew snatched it away, at the same time cutting off a semi and getting a blast from its horn in return. If Gerald was in full officious mode, Drew would have more patience for it than Chapman. “Gerald!”

“Ssshhh!” he scolded. It sounded like he had his mouth directly on the speaker. “Do you want them to hear you?”

Gritting his teeth, Drew adjusted his voice to a low rumble. “Them who? What’s going on? Start at the beginning, and keep it short and sweet.”

“Fine. We’re in the middle of godforsaken nowhere, with no street lights or houses, much less malls and spas. But we think we’ve found Senator Creighton and Meg. We passed a car on the side of the road with its parking lights on, like it’s just waiting for someone. Renke stopped around the curve, and he’s walking back toward it through the woods. Mr. Official Agent says it’s always best to be safe. Mihaly is walking back down the center of the road, because if it’s them, Meg will see him and recognize him. I should be the one doing that, because they both know me, but Mr. Bigshot told me to wait in the car while they did their hero stuff. And he left his phone, so now I have it.”

Drew relaxed marginally. “So you’re in the car?”

“Of course I’m not in the car. What good would I be there? You think I’d do something just because some government-trained twit tells me to?”

Of course not, what was he thinking?

“Give me that,” Chapman growled, grabbing the phone back with one hand while using the other to brace himself against the dash as Drew cut lanes and swerved into a right turn. “Listen carefully,” he
ordered. “That’s not Senator Creighton in that car. In all likelihood it’s the two agents who have been blackmailing senators. It’s a trap, and they’re going to try to kill all three of you. You got that?”

Gerald paused. “How do you know?”

Drew answered, knowing Gerald would be less apt to doubt him. “Because the blackmailer is Pierson.”

“Holy shit,” Gerald breathed into the phone.

“Where exactly are you?” Chapman asked.

“I’m getting up close and personal with Mother Nature, on the other side of the road from Agent Renke. I stepped in something highly questionable, and probably snagged my hand-tailored pants that I—Oh, shit!”

“What?” he and Chapman blurted out together.

Gerald’s voice went an octave higher. “They just spotted Mihaly and turned on their headlights. He’s totally lit up, so now he probably can’t see the car or anyone in it. Oh, that’s not good.”

Chapman brought the phone closer to his mouth and spoke in urgent, clipped tones. “You’ve gotta tell Renke and Dragos to back off, now.”

Drew hit narrower city streets and was forced to slow down to navigate parked cars and frequent turns. The squealing tires were the only sound in the car as they listened for Gerald’s response.

“I can’t see Agent Renke. Mihaly’s a sitting duck, completely blind. They’re just waiting for him to get closer.”

“For God’s sake, call them off!”

“If I do that, the guys in the car will start shooting, won’t they?” Gerald said, sounding more contemplative than Drew would have been at that moment.

“They’re going to start shooting anyway. Just do it!” Drew bet if the light had been better Chapman’s face would be deep purple.

“Ssshhh! Shut up, I’m thinking.”

Drew frowned in confusion, unable to imagine Gerald not going for the scream-and-run plan.

Chapman was more direct. “What’s to think about?” he asked, his voice vibrating with stress. “Rule number one, stay out of harm’s way. Get the fuck out of there!”

“Will you hush or do I have to turn you off?”

Chapman gave Drew an incredulous look and tossed the phone onto the console, apparently giving up. “The man’s a control freak! But only an idiot would think he can control this situation. He’s going to get everyone killed,” Chapman said.

Drew wasn’t sure he could defend Gerald on that point.

“Let’s see,” Gerald mused from the dashboard, sounding as if he were deciding which suit to wear and not how to prevent three people from getting shot. “The car windows are up. They won’t shoot at us through the windows.”

“Right,” Chapman muttered, although Drew doubted Gerald was waiting for his opinion.

“They must be wondering where Agent Renke and I are.”

“How do you know they’re both in the car?”