Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) (24 page)

Her eyes widened. “You would assassinate him?”

“For what he’s done? Hell, yes, I’d gladly shoot and kill the bastard.”

Callie repressed a shiver at the chilling flatness of Lijah’s tone. The emotionless voice of a man talking of killing another. A reminder that it had been her own father who trained Lijah and all the other men who worked at Grayson Security.

She wasn’t going into this unarmed herself, had concealed Lijah’s small pistol inside one of her own boots.

With the intention of using it?

Earlier today, she had been convinced she could shoot Richard Stockton given the opportunity. But could she really fire the pistol into a human body? She hated Richard Stockton with every fiber of her being for all that he had taken from her, but would she really be able to kill him if the chance arose?

She was going to find out in just under an hour.

“At least let’s part as friends, Lijah?” She placed a hand against the tenseness of his jaw.

“We aren’t friends, Callie.” He stepped away from that touch. “We can never be friends.”

Callie winced from the pain of hearing him say that. From knowing she really had been just another mission to him. A mission “with benefits,” maybe, but still a mission.

She turned away. “I’m sorry to hear you say that, because I consider you my friend, and— Oomph.” Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh as Lijah grasped her arm and turned her, and she suddenly found herself crushed in his arms and his lips claiming hers.

Claiming
her
.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part?

Whatever it was, Callie would gladly take it after feeling estranged from him all day.

Her arms moved up over his shoulders, fingers entwining in the dark thickness of his hair as she kissed him back with all the emotion that had been building inside her for the past ten hours since she woke in his bed and once again found him gone.

Lijah had promised himself he wouldn’t do this. Had
made
himself promise that he wouldn’t do this. But when it came right down to it? He might be inwardly furious with Callie, but he couldn’t let her go out there without holding her in his arms once more, kissing her once more.

He finally managed to end the kiss, arms still about her as he rested his forehead against hers. “
That’s
why we can never be friends.”

“I could be your friend with benefits?” she prompted with a lightness that was totally belied by the dark anxiety in her eyes.

“No,” Lijah said flatly.

She drew in a deep breath. “Okay.”

He nodded briskly. “We’re going to fit you with an earpiece as well as the wire you have strapped to your back so we can also talk to you, okay? I’ll be watching you all the time through the scope of my rifle, and at the first sign of trouble, I want you to give me an agreed-upon signal and I’m taking Stockton out. This is the way it has to be, Callie,” he added firmly as she gave a shudder of revulsion. “Do you understand?”

She gave a silent nod. “What sort of sign?”

“Something that doesn’t look too obvious. Scratching the side of your nose, or pulling on the lobe of your ear, or maybe even tossing your hair back over your shoulder—”

“But what if I do have a genuine itch on my nose and scratch it by mistake, or I accidentally toss my hair back!”

“Then Stockton goes down.” He gave an impatient sigh at the dismayed expression on her face. “Whatever the signal is, Callie, once you’ve made it, you take a dive for the ground, you understand? Because once he’s down, his men will have instructions to open fire on you,” he assured grimly.

Callie gave a shiver. “You’re right, this is very real, isn’t it?”

“As real as it gets.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I want to put an end to this once and for all, Lijah.”

His arms dropped away from her, and he stepped back. “Then let’s hope your own death isn’t part of that end!”

Callie hoped so too.

Chapter 17

“He’s alone and heading in from the left, Callie,” Lijah’s voice spoke softly in the almost invisible earpiece they’d fitted before she made her way down the Mall, where she was now sitting on the steps at the bottom of the Greek-style temple that housed the huge seated marble statue of Abraham Lincoln, America’s sixteenth president.

At any other time, she would have wanted to explore and admire the wonderful memorial, but not tonight. Tonight she had only one thing on her mind, and that was getting through this meeting with Richard Stockton.

And yes, she could see him too now, strolling toward her. A handsome man, elegantly attired in a fitted suit, shirt, and tie, his hair gleaming golden in the last rays of the day’s sun. He moved unhurriedly, looking supremely confident as he smilingly acknowledged the greetings of several tourists as they recognized him as being Senator Stockton’s son.

Luckily, it was the time of day when a lot of tourists had gone off in search of dinner, and the young couples hadn’t yet started to arrive for a late-night romantic tryst.

Looking at Richard Stockton now, it didn’t seem possible that this urbane and confident man could be the same one who had shot and killed Michael. The same man who was responsible for having killed her father.

Could she be wrong about him? Had she made a mistake in picking him out?

Callie straightened her spine. No, of course she wasn’t wrong. Why else would Richard Stockton have agreed to meet her if he wasn’t guilty?

He came to a halt looking down at her, the shadows of the sun behind him preventing her from seeing the expression on his face. Or those eyes that had looked at her in cold recognition the night before. “Miss Morgan,” he spoke lightly. “We last met at the Hammond Gallery, I believe?”

Callie had no idea what game he was playing, but listening to his voice again had totally eliminated any lingering doubts she might have that she had pointed her finger at the wrong man. This was definitely the same voice and the same man who had whispered those threats in her ear all those months ago.

She brushed the dust from her jeans as she slowly stood. “Mr. Stockton.”

He eyed her mockingly. “Shall we walk up the steps while we talk, and perhaps take a look at the monument?” The firm hold he had of her arm as he began to ascend the steps said he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “You really can’t visit Washington, DC, without seeing Lincoln’s memorial.”

“I’m not
visiting
Washington, I came here to look for my father.” Even through her clothing, his touch made Callie’s skin crawl, and she didn’t need Lijah’s growled warning of “I don’t have a clear shot if you stand too close to him” through the earpiece to attempt to free herself. “Let go of my arm, or I’ll start screaming.”

Stockton gave her a sideways glance between long thick blond lashes. “You seem a little upset, Miss Morgan?”

She wrenched her arm free and stepped away from him. “Of course I’m upset! You killed Michael Hammond and now my father too!” Her voice broke slightly on the latter, that loss so raw it still didn’t seem quite real.

He gave a quizzical smile. “I have to admit to being slightly puzzled as to why you would possibly think I might have done such a thing?”

“Possibly because I know you for the murdering bastard you really are?” she challenged with saccharine sweetness.

He gave a calm shake of his head. “I think you’re suffering from delusions, Miss Morgan. When I saw you at the White House last night, I vaguely recalled meeting you at the Hammond Gallery earlier this year, an evening that certainly ended in tragedy, and incidentally the only reason I agreed to this meeting today. But I’m slightly…disturbed by these wild accusations you’re now making. Have you tried seeking the help of a doctor, or possibly a psychiatrist? It’s obvious you’re suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress, possibly as a result of Mr. Hammond’s death that evening?”

“The bastard knows you’re wired and that we’re listening and recording the conversation,” Lijah muttered disgustedly.

Callie didn’t give a damn what this man knew. She would get him to confess, if it was the last thing she did. And it quite possibly might be. “I’m not the one who needs psychiatric help. You are,” she scoffed. “What makes you behave this way, I wonder.” She looked him critically up and down. “A form of penis envy, maybe? Because your Daddy will always be the Big Ben of penises and you’ll only ever be in his shadow and known as the Puny Little Wiener?”

She heard a splutter of laughter over the earpiece followed by Lijah’s sharp bark of “Maintain silence!”

She had no idea where Lijah and his men were situated, and she had no intention of giving away their presence by looking. But that show of humor from one of Lijah’s men was somehow reassuring.

Richard Stockton’s eyes had frosted to that cold and merciless blue, even if the charming smile remained on his lips for anyone who might be watching them. “My father is a great man and a friend of the president of the United States. He’s a father to be proud of.”

“As was my own father,” Callie bit out between clenched teeth. “And I wonder how proud your father is going to be of
you
once he knows the truth?”

“The truth about what?” He was once again mockingly confident. “I’m Richard Stockton, son of Senator Stockton, and you’re obviously a mentally disturbed young woman. No doubt as a result of your having been present during your boyfriend’s murder six months ago. And did you say your father had also died recently?”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You know he did, because you killed him. And no one else but the police knew I was also at the gallery when Michael died. Except, of course, the person who murdered him in cold blood.”

“Good girl, Callie,” Lijah murmured approvingly.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Morgan.” Stockton gave a pitying shake of his head. “I’m sorry for your loss, of course, but I really don’t see how I can help you?”

Her chin rose. “I didn’t come here alone.”

“Neither did I,” he assured too softly to be picked up on the listening device strapped to her back. “In fact, I think right about now, my men will be quietly and efficiently eliminating yours.”

Callie gave a panicked look around the temple, where she imagined Lijah and his men must be hiding to watch the exchange.

“Concentrate, Callie.” Hearing the softness of Lijah’s voice in her ear again put an instant stop to her panic. “Whatever he’s saying to you, remember we’re here, and we have your back.”

She gave a barely perceptible nod—not the signal for Lijah to shoot, thank goodness—before turning back to Richard Stockton. “I don’t think so,” she came back scornfully. “I’m still curious as to why you did it—still do it? The robberies, the killing? Does it give you some sort of cheap thrill? A sexual high? What’s the problem, Richard?” She deliberately used his first name. “Are you having trouble getting it up nowadays?”

“How dare you!” A slight crack appeared in that smoothly confident veneer.

“Hit a nerve, did I?” she continued to taunt. “Is the big shadow Daddy casts making you impotent?” She gave a shrug as she saw the dangerous glitter in his eyes. “Must be difficult always knowing you’ll be second best,” she continued conversationally. “Your father seems to have to do everything else for you, so perhaps he might be willing to fuck your wife for you too if you ask him nicely?”

He half raised his hand as if to strike her, before taking a deep breath and bringing his fury back under control. “I’m afraid you really are very sick, Miss Morgan.” His confident smile now had a definite edge.

“Maybe he’s already fucking her?” Callie mused. “She is rather beautiful, and powerful men like your father tend to have high libidos. Might as well keep it in the family, and after forty years of marriage, your mother probably isn’t all that interested nowadays, so—”

“Leave my mother out of this!” Stockton’s fingers took a tight and bruising grip on her arm.

“Oedipus complex much?” She ignored Lijah’s quietly growled “Don’t go too far, Callie.” “Wishing you could take Daddy’s place in their bed?” She gave a mocking chuckle. “How funny!” She was openly laughing at him now. “Daddy fucks your wife, and you want to fuck your own mother!”

“If you don’t shut your filthy mouth, I’m going to rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat!” Those pale eyes now gleamed with fury.

She arched a derisive brow. “I thought we had just established you don’t have the balls—” Callie broke off with a gasp as his hand moved to her throat, cutting off her air supply.

“I have the balls to snap your neck and end your life right here and now if I choose!” His hand tightened about her throat as his face came close to hers.

His breath was hot against her cheeks, his close proximity allowing Callie to see the full extent of the anger now gleaming fanatically in his eyes. A dangerous, insane anger she was responsible for slowly and deliberately tipping over the edge of reason.

“Is your boyfriend watching us?” he challenged her. “The Most Honorable Marquess of Stanford? Otherwise known as Lijah Smith! Are you watching and listening, Smith?” he added challengingly. “If so, this is for you!” His mouth came crashing down on Callie’s.

The nausea rose in Callie’s throat at the same time as Richard Stockton’s teeth bit down painfully on her bottom lip, so hard Callie felt and then tasted the metallic flow of blood into her mouth.