Hotshot (19 page)

Lewis stared out the hotel window overlooking Lake Erie. Such a peaceful view.

And nobody had a clue what would slide through those waters tomorrow while everyone had their eyes glued to that congressional hearing.

Excitement filled him until his perfectly pressed clothes felt too tight. He was only hours away from his first seven-figure payoff and the status that coup would bring him.

He whipped the curtains closed again, sealing himself in the room for a rare moment where he didn’t have to worry about letting his roots show. He peeled back the bandage he wore to hide his own gang tattoo.

A skull stayed inked on his forearm with a snake slithering through the open eye and mouth.

Flexing muscles, he made the serpent come alive with each twitch. He should have the marking removed, and he would. Someday.

His boss actually knew about his past, had in fact hired him because of it and the skills he brought to the table in understanding gang politics. Of course his boss had no clue he wasn’t “reformed” after all. He’d merely cleaned up his appearance and educational credentials enough to exist in polite society where he had access to a gold mine of information. His boss called him a real mover and shaker.

The man had no idea.

Lewis pivoted away from the window altogether, restless for this night to pass, eager to see his twofold plan come together. Threats to the congressional hearing had the authorities in an uproar. The perfect distraction for a special shipment to glide through the Port of Cleveland: an experimental brand of compact explosives, MP-5 9 mm sub-machine guns, and a small cache of handheld surface-to-air missiles perfect for popping a civilian airplane during takeoff or landing.

The guns would go to local gangs. The rest? Sold to terrorists in the U.S. who were having trouble outfitting their arsenals.

He dropped into a chair and watched the numbers change on the clock. Sure, he dealt with terrorists, but purely on a financial level. Through his gang connections, he provided what they could no longer smuggle into the U.S. Growing gangs from major cities to midsize towns expanded the possibilities for moving illegal goods in and out of the country.

And who said the entrepreneurial spirit was dead?

The best part of all? Webber’s suicidal distraction during the hearing provided the added bonus of ridding the world of a major thorn in his side. He stared at the wall as if he could pierce through and get directly to Shay Bassett now.

As of tomorrow, there would be one less “crusader” in his way.

EIGHTEEN

“You need a spotlight to do this.”

Shay’s voice drifted over his shoulder as they stood in the shower with her shaving his head. Something he’d never let a woman do for him before. Something he found surprisingly erotic.

She slid the razor over his head slowly, following her other hand along to make sure of a smooth shave. Hot water sluiced off her and around to him. Steam filled the Swedish shower cubicle.

He sensed an urgency in her that gave him pause. Hopefully it was nothing more than nerves about her upcoming congressional presentation.

His instincts told him otherwise.

Reaching behind, he clasped her wrist and turned to pluck the razor from her hand. “Thank you.”

“But I’m not done.”

“Next time.” And there would be a next time, if he had anything to say about it. He dipped to kiss her quiet.

Shay hooked a leg around his waist, and he scooped her the rest of the way up until she locked her ankles behind his back, her arms around his neck. She cupped his face and kissed him, water sliding between them and mingling with the taste of her in his mouth. He cupped her hips and raised her higher as he nuzzled his way down her neck, lingering along the curve of a breast.

Sighing, she stroked her hands over the smooth surface of his scalp, her bare thighs squeezing his waist before her lips fell to rest against the top of his head. Something hitched in his chest. He didn’t know why, other than that something about the moment felt . . . intense. Control seeped from him as if riding the steam right up the vent.

He eased her away from him and set her firmly back on her feet. “I’ll finish up here. You should start getting dressed. You don’t want to be late for your big presentation.”

The hearing wasn’t scheduled to take place until the afternoon, but they had to arrive hours early for the security screening.

Smiling, she smacked him lightly on his butt. “Spoil-sport.”

While he finished shaving his head, he listened to her bustle in and out of the bathroom, her shape nothing but an outline on the other side of the fogged glass. He shifted the razor to his face. Time to do away with any category of relaxed grooming standards. Today, he would wear his service dress uniform for the official function.

A clean face later, he swiped his hand over his jaw and head until satisfied he hadn’t missed a patch of bristle. He stepped out of the shower and into the empty bathroom.

His gut pitched, then he heard her hair dryer blowing in the other room. Still, he needed to keep her in sight every second in a professional capacity today. He tugged on his underwear and T-shirt, then slipped his uniform pants off the hanger. Routine took over like a checklist in the aircraft. Light blue button-down with long tie. Black socks and high-sheen black shoes.

His wheel cap waited in the next room with Shay. He hooked the uniform jacket over his shoulder, stepped out of the bathroom, and stopped short.

He’d seen Shay in sexy, leg-hugging jeans. He’d seen her gloriously naked. But this Shay was a new woman he hadn’t met yet.

Striding closer one slow step at a time, he eyed her up and down in her pinstriped power suit. The thin skirt ending just at her knees showed off her killer legs. Simple gold at her neck and wrist shouted elegant. “Va-va-va-voom.”

“Well hello to you, too, Major.”

Her eyes, smoky with desire and a subtle eye shadow, slid to half-mast as she walked toward him on high-heeled pumps. Lord help him, he couldn’t wait to see her in those shoes and nothing else.

He extended an arm. “We really don’t have time for this.”

She cocked a hand on one hip. “Not even a quickie?”

“You’re too pretty to mess up.”

“Thank you—I think. You sound a little surprised.”

“No insult intended. I’m just discovering a new side of you. Day-to-day, you’re an earthy woman, minimal makeup, a shake-and-go haircut, jeans and T-shirt type. A natural beauty.” He sketched his hands over her hair, down her curves, not touching, half afraid of messing something up on this perfectly put together woman. Then his gaze hitched on something familiar. “Of course you always have something flashy on your wrist.”

Her arm twitched away from him.

Oh God. His eye snapped up to her face, his gut somewhere around his polished shoes. Carefully—giving himself time to think, to process—he draped his jacket over a chair. “Is that how you tried to kill yourself?”

She nodded, a hard swallow moving her neck.

He’d assumed she took a bottle of pills. He should have known better. The signs were there with the cutting on the inside of her thighs, yet for some reason his brain had shied away from this bloody, violent conclusion.

Okay. Deal with it. He touched her gold watch, more of a wide, clamp-style bracelet. “I don’t know what to say except I’m so damn glad it didn’t work.”

He skimmed a finger on the inside of her band.

She flinched again. “Don’t. Please.” She wobbled on her heels, backing away. Much farther, and she would be in the hall. “I don’t know if I’m ready to show you.”

Frustration kicked around inside him when he needed to think of Shay, of reassuring her. “What happened between us against that door actually was a mistake, but not in the way you think.” He advanced a step. “I’m not looking for casual sex.”

Her back met the wall. “I don’t do that, no-strings sex, I mean. What happened between us was an . . . uh . . . anomaly.”

Anomaly? Not an encouraging word to say the least. “So if you don’t have casual sex, and you don’t believe in marriage, are you planning to join a convent? Quite frankly, I can’t see you in a penguin suit.”

She toyed with her watch with fidgety fingers. “I never said I don’t believe in marriage. I said happy ones are rare.”

He closed the last three feet between them. “Something that rare is worth working for. So why”—he tapped her gold band—“are you holding back?”

She snatched her wrist away—no involuntary flinch this time—and whipped past him with brisk strides. “What gives you the right to demand I lay myself bare, just because you’ve been in my life for a few days?”

He turned to watch her restless walk. “We have a lot more history than that, and you know it. Why do you insist on putting the negative spin on things?”

She spun on her heel and snapped, “That’s unfair.”

“I don’t think so, not when it comes to relationships.” Thoughts connected for him, giving power to the notion, taking it down a path he didn’t want to go. He hoped she would surprise him with a detour. “Look at how you’ve reacted to every good thing that’s happened between us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re shutting us down again by holding back.” He could see her shutting down even now.

What would it take to break through walls that high?

He yanked his uniform jacket off the back of the chair and stuffed his arms inside. “Everything your father does, you see in a negative light.” Anger sending him on autopilot, he fastened the buttons, checked the rows of ribbons and silver wings above them. “Your father may have made mistakes, but he’s doing everything he can to save your life now.”

Uniform crisp and in place, he looked up. At her. Ah hell.

Shay stood stone still, staring at him, her lips pursed tight. “Of course you would see it that way.” She waved her hand to encompass his uniform. “You spent most of your teenage life wanting to
be
my dad, right down to your save-the-world chest of awards.”

“Now you’re the one being unfair.”

“Are you sure?” Rather than backing down this time, she stalked closer. “When I think back, every time something dangerous happened to me or I showed some vulnerability, you were all over me.”

“That’s total bull.”

“Am I just another cause for you?” Her high heels brought her nearly nose to nose with him. “Something to save or fix?”

Defeat derailed him like an oil slick on a wet highway. “You’re not going to accept what we have here, are you?”

He could already see her negative answer gathering force behind her darkening brown eyes. Her chest heaved inside her sleek suit coat. He could have kissed that pink lipstick right off her, and within two seconds flat she would be totally turned on. So would he. She would be distracted from the fight—for now.

Eventually they would be right back here.

A knock echoed through the door.

Vince hauled his focus back to where it should have been all along. Keeping Shay safe. His uniform shoes squeaked as he walked across the carpet, not as comfortable or broken in as his boots.

Or maybe they just pinched right now like everything else in his life.

He stopped at the door, peered through the peephole. Agent Wilson. He flipped the locks and opened.

Paulina Wilson filled the door in her own power suit. She glanced from him to Shay and back again. “Is everything okay here?”

“Fine.” Shay picked up her black leather case containing her speech and laptop, keeping her eyes steadfastly off him. “I’m ready to go.”

“Good.” Paulina gave them a skeptical look but continued as if nothing were wrong. “I’ll be riding in the limousine with the two of you. You also mentioned an interest in speaking with the aide that visited the community center yesterday. He works with Congressman Mooney. I thought you would appreciate the chance to speak with him one-on-one.”

She gestured for Shay to precede her out the door. Vince didn’t much like being dismissed by Shay, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it now, and with the way she was squeezing her watch tighter on her wrist, he feared later wouldn’t be any better. He reached onto the top shelf of the closet and pulled down his uniform wheel cap. Tucking the round hat under his arm, he followed the women into the hall.

“Ah, here comes Congressman Mooney’s aide now.” Paulina pointed down the hall, gesturing to the young man padding down the corridor in top-of-the-line loafers and a designer suit paired with a baseball tie. “Shay Bassett, Vince Deluca”—she paused—“meet Anthony Lewis.”

NINETEEN

Her “perfect” day sucked.

Sitting by Special Agent Wilson, Shay wished she could savor this accomplishment, riding in a limousine on her way to the hearing, finally bringing together a dream.

Instead, it felt like her world was falling apart.

She peered through her lashes at the source of her frustration sitting across from her in the limo, beside Mr. Lewis, neck deep in conversation. Vince filled the leather seat with his bulk and military presence. As much as she cringed at reminders of her father, she couldn’t deny how flipping hot Vince looked in his service dress uniform with all those rows of ribbons topped by silver wings. Yet she couldn’t deny memories of her dad in the same uniform.

Things had actually been going so well with Vince. At least they’d moved from the door to the bed. Sure, she’d shied away from thoughts about the future, but for the first time in longer than she could remember, she’d been happy. What was wrong with living in the moment?

And the icing on the cake? There had been a wreck downtown that caused a traffic jam, making them late.

A drink from the limo’s minibar sure would be nice.

Limousines ahead of theirs snaked closer to Case Western Reserve University in a well-guarded procession past white stone and redbrick buildings. Mammoth modern art sculptures and fountains broke up the woodsy scenery along their way deeper into the campus. With Brody in custody, authorities weren’t as worried about the threats that started with those calls, but par for the course, they were concerned about protestors.

And they still hadn’t answered the question of who Brody answered to. Could he simply be an angry youth acting alone? Possible. But they couldn’t be certain until he opened up more.

Vince would be attending with her while his crew buddies flew their monitors, sending info via earpieces to him and other security personnel stationed around the Case Western campus.

Lewis turned from Vince to her. “Miss Bassett, I enjoyed your presentation yesterday afternoon at the community center.”

Another moment she should be reveling in—and making the most of.

“Thank you, Mr. Lewis. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak before you left.” She hoped he had sway with Congressman Mooney. “I’m glad you were able to stop by the center during your time here. We appreciate your willingness to see our operation up close.”

“The congressman is all about these kids. He even puts his money where his mouth is. One of his scholarship funds enabled me to put my old life on the streets behind me and get a fresh start. Much as the major here changed his ways.”

Shay sat up straighter in the butter-soft leather seat. She’d done her research on the congressman, and even she hadn’t known this about him, or about one of his staff members. She struggled to keep from looking at Paulina Wilson to see if the agent knew either.

Vince locked his eyes on her, clouds still shifting behind the deep blue. “Miss Bassett and her father have a way of reaching these kids.”

His determination to push her buttons when it came to her father left Shay digging her nails into the backs of her thighs.

“People like the Bassetts,” Lewis continued, “like you, Major, and like the congressman could really put a dent in that way of life.”

“Way of life?” Vince’s eyebrows rose. “More like a dead-end existence.”

At least she and Vince agreed on something.

The looming redbrick gymnasium ahead cut short further conversation. They’d arrived at their destination. Cars and people packed the driveway and lots, her late arrival actually increasing the amount of media exposure.

The limo slid to a stop. Her stomach lurched.

Lewis reached for his briefcase. “Well, that brings our discussion to an end for now. Good luck to you, Miss Bassett. I’ll have my eye on you today.”

The chauffeur opened the door, a gust of muggy summer air sweeping inside. Shay followed special Agent Wilson out onto the cement walkway leading to the stairs. Security lined the roped-off path, forming a wall between them and—

Camera flashbulbs snapped repeatedly, blinding her.

A hand palmed her back, startling her. She searched for security, then relaxed as the feel became familiar. Vince. How could he be so comforting and infuriating at the same time?

He leaned close to her ear, his aftershave teasing her nose and her rocky emotions. “Stay vertical.”

“Excuse me?”

“Biker lingo for ride safe. Good luck.” He squeezed her waist lightly before ushering her toward the stairs and doors.

As much as she appreciated the encouragement, frustration knocked around inside her. Why did he have to insist on such timetables and benchmarks for revealing their emotions?

She pressed a hand to her head. God, this wasn’t the time or place. She needed to find her composure and get through the afternoon. The crowd grew thicker and thicker as she pressed through the first layer of security. There would be two more checkpoints to clear.

The press of bodies made her claustrophobic.

She glanced over her shoulder, but the crowd had already sealed Vince and the agent out of sight. She’d been briefed ahead of time about going to a quiet room before the hearing. Thank goodness, because she could use a reprieve from the noise and shoving and raw emotions.

Lewis tipped his head down to hers, steering her past gold-plated awards and glass trophy cabinets. “It’s a security nightmare out here. I’ll escort you to the waiting room.”

“I thought Agent Wilson would do that.”

“That’s what aides are for.”

His logic made sense. She glanced back again. The crowd had thinned, and still she didn’t see Vince or the agent.

Wariness crept over her the quieter the hall became. Her intuition shouted,
Run, run, run,
but she had no logical reason to feel that way. This was a congressman’s aide, for crying out loud. She needed to win him over, not totally alienate him. Sure, he’d said he used to be a gang member, but look at Vince. She’d made it her mission to believe these kids could be saved.

Sometime during her rambling thoughts they’d entered it into a deserted hall. Where were the police? She searched for security cameras along the ceiling but turned another corner before she could locate one. Could any of Vince’s little bugs be flying around?

She didn’t hear so much as a buzz.

“This way.” Lewis tapped her elbow, nudging her left.

Forget manners and worrying about offending a congressional aide. “I want to find Vince and Agent Wilson.”

“I don’t think so.” The soulless look in his eyes chilled her clean through.

Lewis turned her, tipping her balance. “This young man’s going to take very good care of you.”

She regained her balance, coming face-to-face with . . . Webber?

Even in khakis and a button down, she recognized him. His long, dark ponytail draped over one shoulder. His hand seized her arm, FEAR blaring from his knuckles.

She shivered.

“Come with me,” he said softly, his lumbering body too big for his age. “Lewis has to go back before he’s missed.”

Lewis? What did Anthony Lewis have to do with this? Apparently nothing good.

Webber walked faster, a photo security badge clipped to his shirt flapping. No way in hell could he have gotten that badge through legal channels. Every instinct she’d honed in her job shouted that something was seriously wrong.

She opened her mouth to shout. To hell with causing a scene.

Webber’s hand moved forward in a flash. The sharp tip of a knife dug into her side. Painfully.

She gasped. He pressed harder until she could feel the cool steel stabbing a tiny hole through her suit, pricking her side. Not a knife. Anything but a knife.

Oh God, she was going to be sick.

Somehow he must have palmed the blade. She couldn’t even imagine how he had gotten it past security. A moot issue anyway, because somehow he had.

“Really, Miss Bassett. You need to be quiet, and everything will be okay.”

Miss Bassett?
He had a knife in her side and he was worried about formality? Hysteria boiled inside her.

“Webber.” She stumbled alongside him, terror making her clumsy. “I don’t know what this is all about, but you have to realize—”

“Shhh . . .” He dipped his head, his dark ponytail swinging over his shoulder. “I don’t want you to die.”

Don’t want you to die.

Don’t want to die.

The cadence of his voice resonated in her memory. Settled in her brain. Scared her to the core.

Webber was her caller.

Webber nudged Miss Bassett down the hall, watching for any surprises. But thanks to the information Lewis had provided him, the corridor was clear.

Lewis just hadn’t known that security hole would be used against him once Webber took charge.

The breach wouldn’t last long, though. Even shorter because he’d squeezed his own agenda in along with Lewis’s plan. He had to make sure that no matter what happened, Shay and Amber were safe.

If only Shay understood. She’d tried to scream twice already, and he’d been forced to nick her side to shut her up. Her fear of knives was obvious. He hated to use that to his advantage, but it was better than risking her life.

“Webber, listen to me, please. I don’t know what Anthony Lewis has to do with this, but you need to listen to me instead of him.” Shay gasped with each hurried step away from the crowd gathered for the hearing.

“Not now. There will be time for you to talk.” He had to hurry before Lewis realized the script had been changed.

Webber checked numbers above the doors. Not much farther. He was
supposed
to walk out into the lobby with Shay Bassett, the witness, as his hostage, taking her with him in the big blast. Lewis had a weakness for making his statements with too much of a big deal, like that whole bomb scare idea back at the center. By the time Lewis would see Webber had come alone, it would be too late to do anything about it.

He stopped at the janitor’s closet where he was supposed to hide out if things went wrong. He unlocked the door and shoved her inside with the buckets and mops and the stink of floor cleaner. He wasted one valuable second on the thing about this he regretted most.

“Miss Bassett, I’m really sorry about that old man who died in your car.”

“The guard at the center?”

“Yeah, he was a loser, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

She blinked fast. “Do you think I deserve to die?”

“I tried to help you.” Her perfume smelled nice, but then he realized he could only smell it because she was sweating.

“By putting a bomb in my car?”

The pain in her eyes bothered him, but he could only trust her so far. He wished she could know he wasn’t all bad. He’d taken her bag to try to save her life.

Maybe this was his punishment for everything else he’d done. He wouldn’t be able to explain his side of things. Why hadn’t those special bomb dogs found the explosives like they did in all the movies?

“Webber, why does someone want me dead?”

“I’m already risking a lot for you. Good-bye—”

“No, no, please, just stay for a couple more seconds.” She blinked fast, those eyes of hers so honest, like she cared. “You don’t have to talk about any of this. Let’s talk about you. You have important people in your life. People who care about you. Think how they’ll be hurt if you die.”

She went on just like she’d done on the phone, trying to help him. It hurt to listen.

With a speed honed on the streets, he whipped a gag over her head, into her mouth, and yanked the slipknot tight. He held the knife high. “Turn around.”

Her eyes went wide. She shook her head.

“Miss Bassett, look behind you.”

She backed away, her eyes darting as if searching for a weapon.

“Do it,” he barked.

She tensed, only half turning. Then sagging as she must have finally seen Amber.

Her pretty brown hair sliding down her shoulders, Amber sat crouched in the corner, bound and gagged. It had been the only way he could be sure she was safe as well. Lucky for him, Shay had a soft spot for Amber, too.

“Now kneel down, Miss Bassett. I’m just going to tie you up like Amber. This will all be over soon.”

She knelt slowly, her eyes nowhere near trusting. He tugged out another slipknot and secured her hands. She would probably work her way free after a while, but he would be done by then. “Move over there, across from Amber.”

He hunkered down beside Amber to talk to her just once more, but he had to make it fast. He was running out of time.

Webber leaned toward Amber’s ear, the smell of her shampoo so much nicer than anything he could remember. “There’s fifty thousand dollars in a box at the bottom of the trash can.” His payoff from Lewis. Lewis thought he was stupid enough to send his mother here after the hearing. There were other ways. “If I don’t come back, take it for you and the baby. Use it to go away from here, and don’t come back.”

He wanted to hide Amber and Shay somewhere else, but this was the only place Lewis had secured for him. If everything went according to plan, the cops would escort Lewis in the gym and he would never get a chance to return here.