Reckoning (19 page)

Both men stopped and looked at each other, then at Tam. As she walked back into the bar, she was still grinning.

IT WAS GETTING LATE. Time to head back to Vegas and the media circus that was bound to greet them. Boone and Christie had gotten Milo, who’d been given special dispensation to come inside the bar, once the bartender realized he was hosting celebrities. Boone kept slipping the dog pretzels, and Christie kept slapping his hand.

They would leave the trucks at the airport, and it was anyone’s guess if they’d ever retrieve them. Tam thought about the computers in that old apartment building. The hard drives had been wiped clean, but they could be used again, if someone wanted to load an operating system. Vince had bought that generator, and they’d only used it for one day. Some camper was going to get real lucky.

She turned to Vince. “How much money did you spend on all this?”

“Too much. I’m sending each one of you a bill.”

“Seriously, are you going to be okay?”

“Better than you deadbeats.” He turned to Nate. “While we’re in D.C., why don’t we find out if the government will pick up any of the tab. After all, we were doing their job for them.”

“Great idea. Think we need to bring one of those canisters of dry ice to convince them?”

“Speaking of jobs,” Vince said, ignoring Nate’s joke completely, “remember how we were talking about starting up a security firm? How’s that sitting with everyone now?”

“I’m in,” Seth said. “What else am I gonna do?” He held up his claw. “I’m not the able-bodied man I once was.”

“Count me in, too,” Boone said. He turned to Christie. “We talked about it a lot. As long as Christie can work with us.”

“I’m going back to the clinic,” Harper said. “Sorry.”

“You’ll need someone to handle the money,” Kate said. “And I am a CPA.”

They were all looking at Nate, now. He grinned. “So we’ll call it Pratchett Security?”

That caused a decent row. Enough so Tam had to shout when she looked up at the television screen. “Quiet, all of you. Look.”

They did. It was a press conference and the man behind the podium was the chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff. Next to him was the secretary of defense. The chairman was talking, and behind him were pictures of Nate, Cade, Boone and Seth in uniform.

Tam listened to the speech, but she watched the men as they listened intently to the chairman recount their battles and victories. He talked about how their courage and fortitude exemplified the best of what America and American soldiers stand for. How it was a travesty of justice that a U.S. senator could have branded them traitors, and that from this moment forward, the record would be set straight.

At that, she saw Nate’s eyes fill with tears, and she knew if she looked, she’d see the same thing had happened to Seth and Boone.

When the chairman declared them national heroes, the press room gave them a standing ovation. That’s when the tears slipped down Nate’s cheeks. And her own.

She’d been asked to come to D.C., and she’d informed the powers that be that they could all kiss her gorgeous ass, she was staying with her parents until they were completely well and settled back into their home. Okay, so maybe he’d added the gorgeous part, but her message had been so intractable that the powers and their minions had given up and gone to interview her.

Brava and all that, but damn it, he’d wished she’d come. He missed her more than he’d ever believed possible.

His cell rang, making him jump, but it wasn’t a surprise call from Tam, but a check-in from his sister. “Hi, Christie.”

“You need to come to dinner with us.”

“I told you before, I don’t want to go out to dinner.”

“Too bad. You need to come to dinner with us.”

He sat back on the cool leather, stretching his neck to release some tension. Today had been a particularly hellish experience. He’d been talking to Congress. Congress hadn’t listened very well. “We’ll do something tomorrow night, okay? I promise.”

“No, it’s not okay. Pay attention. You need to come to dinner.”

“What’s going on, Christie?”

“You’ll find out at dinner.”

“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Seven-thirty, at Café Milano.”

He groaned. “I wanted to get into a pair of jeans and order a pizza for the room.”

“You can still have pizza. Just dress up a little.”

“All right. But it better be worth it.”

She’d hung up, of course. No one much wanted to be around him these days. Certainly not for a real dinner. It must be important.

He closed his eyes, wishing he were anywhere but here. And that was a lie, too. He wished he were with Tam. That’s all. Didn’t matter where.

It had started out well. He’d managed to call her every night, the time difference making that easier. But as the weeks had gone by the lawyers and politicians and just the general bullshit had gotten to him. Had he actually thought ending things with Omicron would make him a free man?

He’d come home with killer headaches and primed for fighting, and even over the phone Tam hadn’t put up with that for long. Not that he blamed her, but damn it, she was the real light at the end of the daily tunnel. They still spoke, but it was less frequent and the conversations were brief.

At least her parents were well on the mend. Her father still had the cast on his leg, but he’d walk again. Her mother was up and about and doting on Tam.

She’d been so worried about her reputation. He’d tried to tell her she’d be fine. Fine wasn’t the half of it. She’d been offered research positions at the CDC, the World Health Organization and a post back at MIT. They all wanted her, lauded her in the journals and newspapers as brilliant. Most agreed there were only a few people in the world who could have come up with a working antidote under her circumstances.

That was his Tam. Only, he wasn’t so sure she was his Tam anymore.

The limo kept inching its way through the rain and the traffic as his headache worsened. He fished the bottle of aspirin out of his pocket, and took a bottle of water from the bar. He swallowed three pills, hoping like hell they would do the trick.

He wanted this crap to be over. Finished. There were at least two more weeks left of congressional hearings, and after that, if they were lucky, the lawyers would be done with them, too.

At least the truth was out there. In every paper and on every TV set. Raines had left behind an enormous fortune, a reclusive wife and a journal that had half of Washington and California scared to death.

Ingram was in jail. His bail had been set at four million dollars, but since all his assets had been frozen, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Because he’d given up the account in the Caymans, they’d been able to get the money and put it in a trust fund. Given the speed things happened in this town, he figured it would double in interest before they doled it out.

Finally, they were at the Watergate, and a uniformed kid with a big umbrella had opened his door. Given the time, he’d have about a half hour until he had to leave again. He made arrangements with the driver, and headed up to his suite.

At least they’d put him and his team up in style. They all had suites here and it wasn’t uncommon to find Boone or Seth or Kate in the elevator on the way to Congress in the mornings. He loved them all like his family, but it would be good to go back to L.A. and find a house to call his own. Well, apartment at least. He wanted to live in Pasadena, if he could find a place he could afford.

The Army was giving them all their back pay, and that would really help. But it wouldn’t be enough to buy a place and get the new business started.

He made his way up to his room, and he didn’t stop until he was under the hottest shower he could stand.

“WE CAN’T DO THIS NOW,” Kate said, putting her hands on top of Vince’s. It was a pity, too, because this whole week had been hellish and they’d hardly had any sex at all.

He was sitting on the bed and she was standing in front of him. He put his head on her tummy and whimpered. “Don’t make me go.”

“We have to. We promised.”

“I’m tired. There’s a game on tonight. I don’t want to wear a jacket.”

“Too bad, too bad, too bad. It’s not as if we have to do this every night.”

He looked up at her. “No, we have to do it every day. And there are always reporters. And people who want to tell us things. And lawyers.”

She petted his dark hair. “Ah, my poor sweetie. Does the big bad ex-homicide detective need his blankie?” She grinned, but only for a second. He pinched her butt. Hard. “Hey.”

“Blankie, my ass.”

“No, that was my ass.”

“And a delectable ass it is. Can’t we stay home and play with it?”

She lifted his head with a hand on each cheek. “I love you to pieces, but get up and get dressed. We can’t be late.”

His glower made her giggle as she went back to the bathroom to finish putting on her makeup. She had a sneaking suspicion what tonight was all about, but she couldn’t be sure. She had high hopes, though.

“HOW COME I DON’T HAVE ANY bling for the claw?” Seth asked, studying it in the bathroom mirror. It was shiny for the most part and intimidating, which he liked. “Maybe a little somethin’ somethin’ would be, you know…”

Harper smacked him on the ass. “What I know is that white boys like you shouldn’t be throwing around the terms bling and somethin’ somethin’.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just saying.”

He looked at her standing behind him, her hair its usual beautiful mess, her eyes alive with trouble. She was ready to go in a slinky black dress that was very low cut, and very sexy. She also had on a pair of silver earrings. “See?” he said, pointing at her. “You get to look all shiny and stuff.”

“Tell you what,” she said. “After dinner, we’ll go find a tattoo parlor. They’ll pierce your ears and I’ll let you borrow all of my earrings.”

He turned around and captured her. “Let’s stay home and do unspeakable things to each other.”

Harper sighed. “I wish.”

“Come on. We’ll say we were trapped in the elevator and couldn’t get out.”

“Honey, everyone’s staying here. They’d know.”

“Shit.”

She kissed him. “Let’s go, gorgeous. Even without the jewelry, you are so stunning every woman in D.C. wants to have your little soldiers.”

He laughed all the way to the door, and then some.

BOONE SAT AT THE HEAD OF the table with Christie on his right. He knew she was looking forward to the evening, so he hadn’t said anything when she’d wanted to leave twenty minutes early. To tell the truth, he was looking forward to it, too. They’d been under the gun for so damn long. They might not be hunted anymore, but they weren’t left alone, either.

It had taken a toll on all of them, but Nate had been hit the hardest. And because Christie loved her brother, she’d been worried sick. That, and the fact that she’d had to board her beloved Milo had kept her on edge since they’d arrived in D.C.

He’d ordered a beer. Café Milano had this big famous wine cellar, but damn it, he liked beer. Christie had stuck with water, although it was sparkling.

She looked at her watch again.

“Honey, they’ll be here soon, okay. Everything’s all set. Why don’t you try to relax?”

Her brows furrowed, he could tell she wanted to tell him to go take a flying leap. Instead, she took his hand in hers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No. I mean it. I love you. I hate that we had to go through all this crap, but I’m so, so glad I found you.”

He laughed a little, wondering what was going on. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

He looked down at their hands, where she was gripping him so hard her fingers were white.

“Oh.”

He leaned over and gave her a kiss that honestly didn’t belong in public. “I’m crazy about you, too,” he said. “So much, I’m going to let you go so you can talk to your brother.”

She spun around to see Nate behind her. Boone didn’t even feel insulted when she dropped his hand like yesterday’s news and rushed over to hug him. Well, maybe just a little. He just couldn’t help wondering what was at the bottom of all this, and who the extra seat was for. Christie was up to something. He just hoped it wouldn’t end up coming back to bite her.

NATE COUNTED THE CHAIRS, and he couldn’t help the lump in his throat. Who else could Christie have invited? He’d talked to Tam yesterday and she hadn’t said a word, but a surprise? That felt like something Christie would do.

She followed his gaze, and put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, God. I just—I’m sorry, Nate. It’s not Tam. Damn me for a fool, I didn’t even think.”

He smiled to hide his disappointment. “That’s okay. I didn’t really expect it. So who’s the mystery guest?”

“It’s good, I promise. Not as good as Tam, I know, but still. I think you’ll be happy.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sure I will be. Now, where’s the booze?”

“I think Boone already ordered you a beer.”

He sat across from Christie, and tried to participate as the others arrived. He really had no appetite, but he ordered some pasta which he figured he could push around his plate. The food came, and still there was that empty seat.

Christie wasn’t saying a word, despite the haranguing by the rest of them. Finally, just after the table was cleared, someone they all knew walked in the door.

It was Judge Andrew Petit. He wasn’t involved in the Omicron case—at least not officially—but he was famous as hell. He ended up on television more often than Larry King. Often on Larry King. His outrage about Omicron and Senator Raines had been vocal and consistent. He’d written Op-Ed pieces for the Washington Post and the New York Times, rallying those who had a stake in this to make sure it could never happen again.

He was young for a judge, and had a reputation as a ladies’ man, but tonight he’d come solo. He shook hands all around and finally sat down in the empty seat.

Christie was grinning like a fool, and for the life of him, Nate couldn’t put the two things together. What secret could she share with the judge?

A moment after he’d been seated, three waiters came to the table bearing some damned expensive bottles of champagne. Glasses were filled, but nothing was said until they were left to themselves.

“I assume Ms. Pratchett hasn’t told you the news.”

“No, she hasn’t,” Harper said. “And frankly, it’s pissing us off.”

Judge Petit laughed, and sat back in his wooden chair as if he was about to give a ruling. “Something unusual was brought to my attention three weeks ago. Mr. Eldridge, the attorney representing Omicron International has also been retained by Mrs. Raines. As you know, her late husband left a considerable personal fortune.”

Nate looked at Seth, then Boone, but they seemed just as confused as he was.

“Mrs. Raines has asked me to distribute a great deal of that fortune to the individuals who were dealt with so maliciously by her late husband. That’s all of you, Dr. Chen, and the estate of Charles Dugan, or Cade, as you’ve been calling him.”

“How much of a fortune are we talking about?” Kate asked.

The judge picked up his glass and smiled. “Each of you will receive six million dollars. Unfortunately, we couldn’t convince Uncle Sam to make it tax free, but still, it will be some considerable recompense for what’s happened.”

“Judge, I appreciate this, believe me, but what about the people Raines killed? The families of those in Serbia and Chad?”

“They will also receive reparation, but this is a private matter, not one to go through the courts. I’m involved as a personal favor, and believe me, it’s my pleasure to be able to give you the news.”

Nate turned to Christie. “When did you find out about all this?”

“Yesterday. See?” she said. “I told you it was good.”