Something About You (9 page)

When the night finally arrived, everything started out smoothly enough. After Hodges headed to the hotel after the fund raiser to—how thoughtful—call his wife to say good night, Grant drove his car into a dark alley a few blocks away and quickly shed the trademark suit and tie he always wore when working with the senator. He threw on a nondescript black blazer, hooded T-shirt, and jeans, an outfit that would make him less identifiable on the off chance anyone spotted him around room 1308. A few minutes later, he parked the car and entered the hotel through its back entrance, located the stairwell that would lead him to Mandy’s room, and hurried up the thirteen flights of stairs. Having timed things nearly to the minute, Mandy had just arrived herself and was waiting in the room. She had a small video camera she had purchased, per his instructions, from a spy shop on Wells Street.

Grant set up the camera, gave Mandy a thirty-second tutorial, and hid it behind the television that was conveniently located in front of the king-sized bed.

“What’s with the gloves?” Mandy asked, taking in his black leather-clad hands while he worked.

In hindsight, Grant probably should’ve given the answer to this question a little more consideration, as it was the first sign of trouble.

“Just being careful,” he’d said matter-of-factly while opening the armoire doors another quarter inch and checking to make sure the camera wasn’t visible.

“Just being careful how?” Mandy asked.

When Grant turned around, he saw she had her arms folded across her chest.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You mean, just being careful, as in, if Hodges doesn’t go for this, and he turns me in to the cops, there’s no proof you were ever involved? Is that the kind of being careful you’re talking about?”

She might not have been the prettiest call girl Grant had ever seen, but she wasn’t the dumbest, either. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lot of time to finesse the situation.

“We’re blackmailing a United States senator, Mandy. Yes, I’m being careful. And so should you. But it’s not exactly going to be a secret to Hodges that you’re involved in this. You’re the one screwing him, remember? Not to mention, the one who’s making the deal with him for the money.”

“Funny how, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m the one who’s doing all the work,” she said. “Not to mention”—she mimicked him—“the one taking all the risks.”

Fucking women. He should’ve known she’d start bitching about something last minute.

Grant took her by the shoulders, tempted to give her a good shake. “This was your plan, Mandy. And it’s a good one. Just keep cool, and let’s do this.”

It took a moment before Mandy nodded. “You’re right.” She exhaled. “I’m sorry, Grant. I think I’m getting nervous about all this.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her. “All you need to do is turn the camera on when you hear Hodges knock—make sure you put the armoire doors back in the exact spot they’re in now, then turn the camera off when he leaves. The rest of it is no different than any other job. I’ll be watching in my car from the street below. Turn the lamp by the window on and off three times so I’ll know when you’re done. I’ll come up, check the tape to make sure everything’s okay, and then you’ll leave just like you would any other night.”

“Thanks, boss. Anything else?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Make it look good.”

And did she ever.

As planned, Grant re-entered the hotel as soon as he saw the signal in the window and hurried back up to her room. When Mandy let him in, he pulled the camera out from behind the television and checked the tape. He started at the beginning, then played the tape back on fast-forward. He stopped intermittently to watch, being sure to keep the volume down. Soon, Senator Hodges would very likely come to regret his ever having met Ms. Mandy Robards, but for that night at least, he was quite vocal in expressing his pleasure with their acquaintance.

“See anything you like?” Mandy drawled as she reclined on the bed in one of the hotel bathrobes.

“Just making sure the tape’s clean all the way through,” Grant told her. The beauty in blackmail videography was in the details. Those doggie-style spanks were probably worth five hundred grand alone.

Grant continued to watch the replay on fast-forward, the senator pumping, Mandy bouncing, and the bed all a-shaking at comical speeds, until he got to the end. He slowed to watch approvingly as Mandy very cleverly maneuvered herself and Hodges in front of the camera as he paid her in cash before leaving. The last shot on the tape was Mandy turning off the camera.

When it was finished, Grant pulled out the tape and handed it over to Mandy. As they’d agreed, she would make a copy before showing it to Hodges. “Nice work,” he said.

Mandy smiled as she slid off the bed. “Thanks.” She grabbed her purse off the desk and put the tape inside. She leaned against the desk, taking him in.

“Sorry I was a bitch earlier.” She nodded at his hands. “The gloves, they threw me off for a second. But you were right, this is serious business and we need to be careful. I understand why you need to take your precautionary measures, and I know you’re going to understand why I need to take mine.”

There was a sudden gleam in her eyes that Grant didn’t trust. “Understand what, exactly?”

In answer, Mandy reached into one of the deep pockets of her bathrobe and instinctively Grant went for the gun in the shoulder harness he always wore. But she beat him to the punch as she pulled her hand out of the robe and Grant saw the flash of silver—

Of a small tape recorder.

He let out a deep breath in frustrated relief. “Jesus Christ, Mandy. What the hell is that?”

“I told you—my precautionary measures.” She hit play on the tape recorder, keeping the volume low, but high enough so Grant could hear well and clear.

“I’m sorry, Grant. I think I’m getting nervous about all this.”

“Don’t be nervous. All you need to do is turn the camera on when you hear Hodges knock—make sure you put the armoire doors back in the exact spot they’re in now, then turn the camera off when he leaves. The rest of it is no different than any other job. I’ll be watching in my car from the street below. Turn the lamp by the window on and off three times so I’ll know when you’re done. I’ll come up, check the tape to make sure everything’s okay, and then you’ll leave just like you would any other night.”

“Thanks, boss. Anything else?”

“Yes. Make it look good.”

Mandy shut off the tape with a smug grin. “That spy shop on Wells Street you sent me to was quite a find.” She held up the recorder. “It’s amazing how small they can make these things nowadays. The whole time you were here earlier, you never noticed I had it in my pocket.”

“I’ll have to remember to frisk you next time,” Grant said sarcastically. “What’s with the tape, Mandy?”

“I want to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.”

“You think you should get more than half?”

“I think I should get it all.”

“Why the hell would I ever agree to that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to Hodges with this tape and telling him this whole thing was your idea,” she said.

“As if he’d ever believe that.”

“Men believe a lot of things they shouldn’t when they’re thinking with their dicks.” Mandy gave the tape a little shake for his benefit. “Besides, he doesn’t have to believe me. I have it all right here. I love how this little clip makes it sound like it’s your idea—like you had to talk me into the whole scheme. And that, of course, will be exactly what I tell Hodges. And the police.”

Grant knew he should’ve been nervous. Panicking, even. But instead, he felt a cold blue flame of anger beginning to burn inside him. And he felt strangely calm.

“I’m not giving up my half,” he said.

Mandy laughed scornfully. “Half. As if you even deserve one-tenth of this money. I set this up. I did all the work. The only thing I’ve ever needed you for is to make sure Hodges doesn’t go to the cops. And that you will still do, unless you want to do twenty years in jail for blackmailing a federal official. Because if I go down in this, trust me—you will, too.” She flashed him a smile. “Sorry, Grant. But like we said, this is a one-shot deal. I have to make the most of it.”

She was so proud of herself right then. So smug and confident.

Too confident.

As Grant stood there, pointing his gun at her, he had one thought on his mind.

He would not be out-smarted by a fucking whore.

Mandy slipped the tape recorder back inside the pocket of her robe and eyed his hands unconcernedly. “You can put the gun away, Grant. We both know you’re not going to shoot me.” She turned her back on him and began heading toward the bathroom.

Grant reached under his blazer and tucked the gun back inside his shoulder harness. “You’re right. I’m not going to shoot you.” Without warning, he lunged for her—pleased she never saw it coming—and grabbed her by the throat and threw her onto the bed. She hit it with enough force to bang the bed loudly against the wall. Before she could scream, Grant was on top of her, and the bed slammed against the wall a second time as he pinned her. He slapped his hand over her mouth.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with. You need to understand who’s in control here, bitch,” he hissed.

Mandy’s eyes widened—his sudden burst of rage finally put some fear and respect into her—and she began to fight back. Grant grabbed one of the pillows next to her head and brought it down over her face. Her arms flailed, her hands clawed for his face, and she kicked out with her legs, trying to buck him off. Probably not the way she was used to being ridden in bed, Grant thought, using his elbows and chest to hold the pillow down while he grabbed for her wrists and pinned them under his knees.

She fought really hard at that.

Grant let it go on for a nice long moment, finding her panic and the power he held over her to be strangely thrilling. Intoxicating. He was about to pull the pillow away, ready to see the submission in her eyes, when it hit him that she was such a dumb-ass scheming bitch that she would never really submit, and he knew then that he never should’ve trusted her in the first place and in that moment, he hated himself for being so naive. He knew that, no matter what she might say, no matter what she might promise right then, he’d never be able to believe anything that came out of her lying mouth. For all their plotting, he wasn’t going to get a fucking dime because of her, and worse, now she had him. Sure, he could take the tape away from her, but he could never, ever trust her to keep her mouth shut, she’d always have this thing she could hold over him, that he’d planned to blackmail the senator. And even if he could convince her to walk away, he’d always be wondering when the day would come when she’d be back, wanting something.

He knew this for certain: he did not want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. He didn’t want her to have that kind of power over him. They were supposed to be partners, but now it seemed to be every man and woman for him or herself. And he didn’t see any other option.

So he kept the pillow right where it was.

It took longer than he expected. Her struggles grew weaker, feeble, but still she persisted, and it wasn’t until a good two minutes or so had gone by without any movement that Grant dared to lift the pillow with his gloved hands.

Her eyes were open and empty. Staring down at her lifeless body, Grant’s first thought was that he was surprised he didn’t feel more. No remorse, just . . . nothing. Though he’d been in the Marines, he’d never actually killed anyone and he’d always assumed it would be kind of a big deal.

Hmm. Apparently not.

Grant sat up and smoothed back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. He climbed off Mandy’s body, thinking he’d better get out of that hotel room. Fast. His mind raced, the adrenaline kicked in, and it took him a second or two to clear his thoughts. He needed a plan and was impressed by how quickly one came to him.

The senator.

Hodges’s fingerprints were all over the room. The escort service would have a record that he was the one who’d been with Mandy that night. And if he left behind the videotape of the senator and Mandy having sex, that would give the authorities enough of a potential motive. A crime of passion, they’d guess. She’d tried to blackmail the senator and when he found out, he’d panicked and killed her.

It would be enough, Grant told himself. It had to be. It wasn’t like he had a lot of options. There were only so many scenarios one could explore when unexpectedly finding oneself in a hotel room with a dead hooker. Plan A: get the fuck out. Bonus plan B: pin it on someone else.

Grant reached into the pocket of Mandy’s robe and found the tape recorder. He slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans, making sure it was hidden by his blazer. He put the videotape and recorder back behind the television, then hurried to the door. He flipped up the hood on his T-shirt.

After all, one never knew who might be watching.

AND NOW HE needed to finish what he’d started.

Grant set his empty beer bottle off to the side and took out his wallet to add a few bucks to the cash Driscoll had thrown down earlier. As he left the bar and stepped outside, he flipped up the collar of his coat to guard against the crisp fall wind that came rolling in off the lake. An L train roared by on unseen tracks somewhere in the near distance.

Grant thought back to Driscoll’s orders.

Find out what the FBI knows.

He had every intention of doing just that.

It wasn’t going to be easy getting the information, he knew, but his mind was already working. Jack Pallas could potentially be a problem—if the stories going around about him were even partially true—but Pallas had made enemies with some people that no one should make enemies with, and Grant had a feeling he could use that to his advantage.

The FBI obviously had something. Although not enough to point them in his direction—yet—he didn’t like having any loose ends lying around. And as soon as he found out what the loose end was, he planned to take care of it. For nearly fifteen years he’d been covering up other people’s secrets and lies. He would handle this with the same objective precision. No more being played the fool. No more mistakes. From now on, he was in control.

And he would do whatever it took to keep it that way.