Someone To Believe In (11 page)

The doors to an elevator opened and just
before Clay stepped in, he heard, “Hold it for me!” as a bundle of
blue flew toward him. “Thanks, I—oh...”

“Bailey.”

“Senator.”

While they stood staring at each other, the
elevator doors closed.

“Damn.”

She swore, too. Averting her eyes, she pushed
the call button and waited, shifting from one foot to the
other.

He tried to think of something glib to say,
something polite. But she looked tired and vulnerable. Why not,
after what she’d been up to? Remembering the file in his briefcase,
he gripped the handle tightly, and tried to rein in his pique. “I
trust you’ve been well since we last spoke.”

“Yeah, thanks. You?”

“Fine.”

They stared straight ahead; she said, “I saw
your picture in the paper last week. How was Bard?”

“Liberal as always.” He didn’t want to
think about how that weekend had ended with Jon. “How’s
your
son?”

“Rory? Great.”

Mention of the boy got Clay riled up all over
again about the danger she put herself in, when she had a child to
care for. Somehow it had become mixed up with his problems with his
own son, too, but he couldn’t figure out how. In any case, he kept
remembering Rory’s little-boy haircut and joyful grin, how he
cuddled into Clay’s chest, how content he seemed. What if something
happened to Bailey because of her insistence on meeting gang kids
face-to-face? Frustrated by that, just as the elevator rolled to a
stop and pinged, he reached out and dragged her around the corner
into an empty hallway.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I could ask you the same. Don’t you ever
think, woman?”

“What are you talking about? And why did you
pull me away from the elevator?”

“Because what I have to say to you is private
and has nothing to do with the governor’s task force.”

Straightening her shoulders, she faced him.
She wore a plain navy suit and light blue blouse. The outfit could
be nun-like if it wasn’t for how she filled out the stretchy
material. Today her glossy hair fell in waves around her face and
down her back.

“Spit it out, Senator.”

“I thought Face-to-Faces were conducted by
the rule of three.”

She had the good sense to blush. “They are.
Everything we told you when you toured ESCAPE is true.”

“You left a little something out.”

She tried to sidle around him, but he stepped
in front of her. They were close momentarily; she smelled like
flowers. Then she stepped back. “What?”

“You met alone with a gang member.”

Her blue eyes widened.

“Don’t bother denying it. You were seen.”

“I don’t have to confirm or deny anything for
you. Or anybody else. I run ESCAPE as I see fit. As long as I’m
not committing a crime, you can’t touch me.”

“If that braided, pierced, and tattooed
bombshell told you she did anything illegal, you’ve broken the law.
Again.”

“Oh, and did you, or whoever it was that saw
me, overhear our conversation?”

“No, I’m not privy to what was said.” He ran
a hand through his hair. “Don’t you care about your safety? You
have a child to consider, for Christ’s sake.”

That stopped her. And made her tongue loose.
“Look, I met with Taz in a very public coffee shop at ten o’clock
in the morning. It was perfectly safe.” She frowned. “How do you
know she was in a gang?”

“She was gang material, though she wasn’t
flying her colors.” He peered at her. “She was one of yours,
right?”

“Well, I’m trying to get her out of a
gang.”

“Did you?”

Her smile was sun bright. It knocked him off
kilter for a second, and he braced himself against the wall. “No,
but I got her into a shelter.”

Clay didn’t say anything.

“See, Senator, I do some good.”

Again she tried to move around him to get to
the elevator. He blocked her way a second time. “You met a gang kid
alone. That is definitely not a good thing.”

“I wasn’t at risk. For one thing, she was
tiny. I could take her if I had to.”

“Oh, that’s just great. What if she had a
knife? God help that four-year-old who depends on you.”

Furious because he kept hitting that hot
button, Bailey snapped at him. “What do you know about me and
Rory?”

“Enough to know you shouldn’t be risking your
safety, for him if nothing else. He’s a wonderful boy. Inquisitive.
Happy. How would he be changed if he lost his mother at such a
young age?”

“How do you know all that?”

“All what?”

“All that about Rory.”

“Because I met him.”

“Where?”

“Your brother and son were at the opening of
Tales for Tots. I gave a speech and cut the ribbon.”

“Why didn’t Aidan tell me he saw you?”

“I have no idea.”

“What else happened?”

“We got ice cream. Aidan and I talked for a
while.”

Her gaze narrowed, and she assessed him
shrewdly. “About me?”

“Some. Don’t worry, he didn’t tell me
state secrets.” Uncomfortable with the direction of the
conversation because of what Aidan
had
told him, Clay glanced at his watch. “We’ve
got to get going.” He circled around her and they strode to the
elevator. Immediately, the doors opened and she stepped inside. He
followed her.

Bailey was acutely aware of Clay’s size as he
stood next to her. His shoulders were linebacker material, and
she’d forgotten how tall he was. He smelled like expensive
cologne. And she liked his brown pinstripe suit. It did nice things
to his eyes.

Damn, she was acting like a school girl
noticing how a guy was dressed. She needed to annoy him and keep
her own annoyance
with
him in
the forefront. Luckily, it wasn’t at all difficult. “So, what, you
had me followed?”

“Somebody ought to have you followed, for all
the common sense you have. And don’t even ask. I won’t tell you
how I know. “

“It had to be that. Who else could have seen
me?”

“Any number of people. Including other gang
members who wouldn’t want you to get your claws into one of
theirs.”

“In that place? Never.”

No comment.

“Look, I’ve worked with girls like Taz for
years. They respond well to me.”

He sighed heavily. “Is she in high
school?”

“Yes, and she’s smart. I think she’s going to
be one of my success stories.” When he didn’t respond, she added
forcefully, “Damn it, Senator, give me a break.”

He let out a frustrated breath, then reached
out and hit a button. The elevator came to a jolting halt.

Bailey jerked forward. “What the hell are you
doing?”

“Look, I’m worried about you, all
right? On top of disagreeing with just about everything that pops
into that pretty little head of yours, I’m
worried
.”

“Why?”

“Damned if I know. Meeting you. Your family.
Hearing about your life. I’ve been thinking about you a lot
lately.”

I’ve been thinking about
you, too
. “You shouldn’t be thinking about me as
anything but an enemy.”

He looked like he’d been slapped. Then his
eyes darkened to a smoky quartz. “All right, sure, fine. Forget
it.” Giving her his back, he went for the button to release the
elevator.

Without thinking of what she was doing,
Bailey reached out and grasped his arm, effectively stopping him.
“Clay.”

The use of his name, the way she uttered it,
seemed intimate. Felt intimate. She slid her hand to his wrist and
lightly grazed his bare skin. It was sprinkled with dark blond
hair.

Suddenly the air felt oppressive, hot; the
elevator became an emotional powder keg. She tugged her hand
back.

He pivoted. There was heat in his eyes.
A kind of heat she’d seen before from men.
Oh, my God
, she thought just as he grasped on to
her, pressed her against the wall, and covered his mouth with
hers.

From there, it got very wild, very fast.

“FIRST, I’D LIKE to thank you all for
consenting to be on New York’s Youth Gang Task Force.” Governor
Friedman’s look was sincere as he scanned the ten people at the
oval conference table in his stately office of cherry wood
paneling and expensive furniture. “I know you’re all busy. But I
chose each of you carefully for your diverse views. That said, I’m
hoping you can pool your expertise and come up with concrete
suggestions for using our share of the hundred million dollars
provided by Stewart’s Youth Crime Bill, earmarked for social
agencies to counter gang activity in our state.”

People nodded. Smiled. Some sent
surreptitious glances at Bailey, then Clay, who were, of course,
well-known adversaries on this topic. Yeah, sure, and that
adversary just had his hands underneath her blouse in the elevator,
for God’s sake. God, she hoped she’d tucked it in right. He’d tried
to help her.

Here let me.

She batted his hands away.
No!

Right now, he could barely look at her, and
she’d die before she caught his gaze. They’d both been late to
this meeting, though thank the good Lord, no one else knew
why.

The governor gave his committee an
ingratiating smile. “Let’s introduce ourselves. Tell us who you
are, and why you’re here.”

He nodded to a plump woman of about sixty.
“Marion, would you start?”

“I’m Marion Hocker. A Sister of St. Joseph. I
work at the Baden Street shelter that takes in gang kids. I’m here
because we need to make some progress in housing for these kids.”
She smiled at Bailey. The nun finished with, “I fully support
ESCAPE’s proposal for Guardian House.”

Next up was a police captain, Ned Price, who
had extensive anti-gang experience. “I’m tired of competing
efforts. We need to work together.” His steely gaze focused on
Bailey. “And to know our places.”

The senator went next. “I’m Clay Wainwright.
I’ve made no secret of my tough-on-crime stance, especially with
youth gang members. And I agree with Ned. We need to work
together, and know our roles. I have some ideas where I’d like
that money spent.”

The others followed.

A state senator.

A single mother who used to be in a gang.

A social worker.

A teacher and a principal.

A female pastor.

When it was her turn, Bailey smiled
congenially at everybody—with lips that felt slightly swollen.
From
his
mouth. “I’m Bailey
O’Neil, otherwise known as the Street Angel. I run ESCAPE and know
some of you but not all. Since this is money earmarked for social
agencies, and the federal government already got its four hundred
million” —here she took a bead on Clay— “for prosecutors, the FBI,
and other legal eagles, I wonder why the local senator and the
federal senator are even participating.”

Clay leaned forward to answer that. There was
still a flush on his face, and on his neck was a red mark from her
mouth. “We’re here to make sure you spend this money wisely.”

She gave him a blistering look. “That should
not be your decision.”

“Oh, and who should decide? You?”

“These allocations should be decided by the
people who will get the social agency money.”

Clay started to say more when the door opened
and hit the wall with a thud.

“Sorry I’m late.” Gazes flew to the entry

“Ah, Councilman Lawson. Glad you could make
it.” Friedman addressed the rest of them. “When he got wind of
this committee, Eric called and asked to be part of it. As a
lawyer, with his background in juvenile crime, it seemed
appropriate.”

Lawson crossed to Bailey and sat down close
to her. She inched back and shot a surreptitious glance at Clay. He
scowled at Lawson’s proprietary gesture. She scowled back at
him.

After the introductions were completed, the
governor clicked into his Power Point presentation. “The three
objectives of this committee and the outcomes are listed here.
Take a minute to read them, then I’ll tell you how we’ll go about
achieving them.”

Bailey read the objectives.

1. To assess current community-based
programs.

2. To compile crime prevention research.

3. To explore a variety of intervention
services for gang members and at-risk youth that might receive
government money.

“For expediency’s sake,” the governor began
once everyone had time to read the objectives, “I’ve broken you
into subcommittees according to the above. I’d like you to get
together a couple of times before our next full task force meeting,
and come back with a report on the headway you made. Let’s split
into groups now and take a few minutes to brainstorm some places to
start, then set a time for your subcommittee to get together.”

Bailey peered up at the screen. Sure enough,
she was grouped with Sister Marion, Ned the cop, and the senator.
The governor had obviously given his choice of participants and
subcommittees a lot of thought. Their task was to assess current
community-based programs.

From the corner of her eye, Bailey saw Clay
peruse the screen. Then his gaze swung directly to her. The look
was hot and heavy—a lot like his mouth had been. It took her a
minute to realize she’d raised her hand to her lips, was touching
them. His eyes narrowed possessively on the gesture. Oh, hell.

The meeting broke up, and Bailey wanted
desperately to get out of the room without a confrontation with
Clay. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Unfortunately, Eric was
at her elbow when she reached the door. “Hey, wait up.”

“I’m in a hurry.”

“To get away from the good senator, I’ll
bet.”