“It’s…a lot,” she said. “A lot to deal with. All at once.”
“I know. But like I said before, we don’t get to choose where and when life will throw us a curve. There will be more.”
“You…You’re right,” she said finally. “About my dissatisfaction with my job. I’m…I think I make a good judge, but I’m not a great one. Not in the illustrious Patrick tradition. Mostly because I feel too much, care maybe a little too much. Which can be agony in my position. I—I don’t have any real aspiration to ascend to the state supreme court. Nor do I see a future for myself in politics.”
She’d looked away from him by the time she finished. He touched her chin with his finger, turned her face back toward him. “I don’t imagine being the first Patrick to turn away from the bench could be an easy thing to do.”
“That would be an understatement,” she said dryly. “And it’s not that I don’t love law. I do. It fascinates me, always has. Mostly, I suppose, because my dad, and his dad before him, were so passionate about it. I was raised with it, raised to embrace the wondrous and amazing intricacies of it. And I did. Do. But…I guess it’s taken me some time to realize that while I have a great love of it, I don’t have a passion for practicing it. If that makes any sense.”
“It does. And I know it probably feels far too late now, but don’t you think if your father knew how unhappy you are, he’d want you to do something else? Do you know what you would like to do?”
She smiled, but it was more bittersweet than happy. “Truthfully? I’d always thought I’d like to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”
“What does she do?”
“Did. She passed away seven years ago.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I guess it makes your bond to your father all the more close, and the things you’ve bonded over all the more special.”
She stared at him, somewhat stunned at his insight. “You’re a pretty amazing man.”
“I just pay attention where you’re concerned, is all.”
It was more than that, way more than that. He was an astute judge of character and probably his high level of training had only enhanced that natural trait. Still, it flattered her more than it unnerved her to know he’d pegged her so easily.
“So, what did your mother do?”
It was only then that Laurel realized she’d talked herself into a bit of a corner. He’d just told her he loved her. And now she was put in the position to tell him that the single biggest thing she’d dreamed of was someday being a wife and mother. Nothing like a little pressure.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing, it’s just…well, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.” Though she was concerned about putting any pressure on him, oddly enough she realized she wasn’t in the least worried about his reaction to the goal itself. Pretty amazing, considering she’d never told her long-harbored secret to a single other soul.
“Spill it,” he urged.
“She was…well, this sounds so cliché, but she was the world’s best mom. Wife, too, although I wasn’t as focused on that part, of course. My dad, however, will bore you to tears with stories about what an amazing friend and companion she was to him. Fair warning.” Smiling now, she was warming to her subject…and almost giddy with relief in finally releasing the truth from the dark corners of her heart. “She took care of us, loved us, but it didn’t stop there. She was involved in so many things. Everyone knew her. We had people over all the time, just in and out, for a multitude of reasons…and she always made each person feel so welcome.” She knew she sounded ridiculously wistful. “I’ve always admired her, always thought what a wonderful challenge it would be to raise a family, be involved like she was.” She laughed lightly, but it ended on a sigh. She looked back to Sean. “Can you imagine me telling my father what I really want to be when I grow up is a housewife?”
Sean sat up, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. “You didn’t say you wanted to be a housewife. You said you dreamed of being a mother and a wife. You said your father revered his wife, so why don’t you think he’d understand, applaud even, that choice?”
“Because I’m the last one. The last Patrick. I thought…I don’t know, I guess I thought that somehow I could have it all.”
He stared into her eyes so intently, she felt the tears gather again in her own. Only this time she couldn’t keep them from tracking down her cheeks. “I don’t doubt for a second that you couldn’t juggle a demanding career with being a wife, with motherhood,” he said. “But you’d probably feel you were shortchanging both.”
She nodded, then sniffed so hard she made a snorting sound. Sean’s lips twitched and she let out a watery laugh.
“So, don’t do it all. Pick one.”
She rolled her eyes, sniffled again, even as she scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks. “Well, it’s not exactly a job you can sign up for.”
“So,” he said, helping her wipe her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, his tone too studied to be as nonchalant as it sounded. “If you met someone who filled your…job description, then would you choose it?”
He flashed her a short grin and the words just tumbled out. “I love you, too, you know,” she whispered. “I didn’t say it before. But I do.”
His eyes flared then and they both reached for each other. His kiss was fierce, protective…possessive. And she gave it all back to him as she felt all those things, as well.
“So,” he repeated, his voice sounding rough with a few swallowed tears of his own. “If you met someone, and you had the opportunity to do what you’ve always dreamed of doing, would you step down? Would you face your dad?”
She looked into his face, wondering how he’d become so dear to her so quickly. “Honestly? I don’t know. I—I don’t know.”
“Well,” he said, smiling a little, kissing the corners of her mouth. “Maybe we’re going to find the answer to that. But first—”
“I know, we need to talk about Alan.”
Sean made a face. “I was going to say we need to eat a real dinner. But you’re right. I do have some ideas on how to end this thing with him.”
“Do they involve specially trained government agents and covert operations of any kind?” she asked warily.
“Nope. Just good ol’ human ingenuity. And maybe a little outside help. Access to a few toys.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Boy’s toys?”
“U.S. Marshal toys.”
“Even better.”
He grinned. “I just need to know one thing.”
“Which is?”
“Ever played poker?”
She looked confused. “Yes. Why?”
“Are you good at it?”
“Very.”
His grin widened further. “Excellent. I just might be able to park in your driveway by the week’s end.”
“Explain.”
He rolled her onto her back, straddled her waist…and picked up the forgotten carton of lo mein. He fished one noodle out with his fingers and dangled it over her mouth. “Just as soon as we get done eating.”
They never did make it to the kitchen. Laurel didn’t mind. As it turned out, cold Chinese food was quite a…delicacy. It all hinged on the presentation.
13
“WHAT WE NEED to do is trap him. Use his own tools against him.” Sean spread out an array of equipment on Laurel’s kitchen table. “With a few tools of my own to help us out.” It was past midnight and neither of them was fully clad, but it had simply taken them a little while to make it out of her bedroom. Neither of them was complaining.
“You mean, blackmail him back?” Laurel asked, covering a yawn with her fist.
Sean grinned. “Basically, yes.”
“But won’t the Rochambeaus just come after me directly then? Or after my father, as a way of getting to me?”
“Not if we expose their deal with Bentley.” Sean knew about the campaign backing now, knew that Alan, in his frustra
tion and desperation, had revealed to Laurel that day on St. Thomas that he “owed” the family too much at this point to find another way to deal with the situation. Laurel had been totally unprepared for his confession, had no way to prove he’d made it other than her word, something Alan had obviously been banking on. What he hadn’t counted on was that even knowing what kind of trouble he was in, Laurel wasn’t going to be swayed. That’s when the threats had begun.
Laurel had been prepared the next time they’d met. She’d played the tape of their bridge conversation for Sean, and he told her that he’d followed her that day. He’d also tailed Alan, in hopes of gaining more evidence against him. Which hadn’t been forthcoming. Sean had also used some of his contacts to see if there was anything floating out there in the intelligence community that might help him, but he’d come up blank.
They were confident they understood the situation Alan was in, and the lengths he’d go to, in order to see himself out of it in one piece…with a senatorial slot firmly in hand, no less. But they also knew they didn’t have enough to nail him. Yet.
“If we can prove the under-the-table connection between Bentley and the family, they’ll have far too many new headaches to worry about,” Sean told her. “Jack’s trial will definitely be halted. New charges will be filed—against him and who knows who else. Alan will be in the center of a media storm the likes of which he’s never seen before…none of it good.” He held her gaze. “And best of all, as a material witness, you won’t be trying any of their cases. That’s if they’re stupid enough to go to trial in the first place. That will be up to their attorneys and the state.”
Laurel shivered. “I just hope we’re not being stupid, thinking we can pull off this whole thing. Better people than us have tried to nail the Rochambeaus and failed.”
“Well, better people didn’t have Alan Bentley and his come-hell-or-high-water ambitions as their weak link, either.”
It was clear from the look on Laurel’s face that she didn’t consider Bentley as weak a link as Sean would like her to. He couldn’t blame her. The man had been terrorizing her for weeks now, putting the fear of God into her, not to mention a healthy dose of doubt where her father was concerned.
She leaned back and let loose a whooshing sigh. “It’s all a good plan, but I still don’t see how we can prevent him from taking my father down with him. He’ll start screaming he was set up and then claim my father played some role in it.”
“Why would he do that? The gig will be up at that point. He’ll have nothing to gain.”
“You don’t know him. He’ll use my father as a shield, to deflect some of the misery being piled on top of him. Trust me, Alan is a sore loser of the worst kind. He’ll find some way to play himself off as the victim in this whole thing. And my father will be the first place he looks for a prime patsy.”
This was the tough part. Sean knew he had a battle on his hands. And wearing her down with screaming orgasms ahead of time wasn’t going to help much. Although they were both decidedly more relaxed heading into battle. “I know you don’t want to confront him about this. But I don’t see where you have any choice. Yes, maybe Alan is bluffing about what he’s got on your dad, knowing you can’t prove there was no foul play and praying on your vulnerability, planting his nasty little seeds of doubt. You said yourself that you could find no proof your father did anything wrong.”
Laurel raked her fingers through hair that was long past tousled. “That’s just it. You’re right. I can’t prove he didn’t, either. His ruling on some of the motions filed…well, I don’t know what was said or argued in chambers before he made those decisions. On paper, some of them were pretty dicey, could have gone either way. In the end, they went the way that Rochambeau’s attorney hoped they would. Several key decisions, and he walked.”
“So maybe the state’s case was weak. Or maybe Rochambeau’s shark was just too good at playing legal roulette.” Sean leaned forward. “Otherwise, what you’re basically saying is that he ruled like he did for some other reason. Being intimidated by the Rochambeaus maybe—”
She shook her head. “Seamus Patrick? Hardly.”
“Well, then, that leaves them finding some other kind of leverage to use against him.” He looked at her intently. “Maybe they found his weak spot?”
She sat up, folding her arms around her middle, her face grim. “You mean me, don’t you? That they somehow used me to get to him? Made threats against me. I was in law school when he heard that case.” She slumped back. “I know it’s possible but I don’t even want to think that, Sean. I can’t imagine—”
“I know,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to. But isn’t that the very same thing that they, or Alan in their place, are doing to you now?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and Sean couldn’t stay sitting any longer, watching her go through this. No matter how necessary it was.
He moved behind the chair she was sitting in, massaged her shoulders. She was all knotted up. And after he’d spent all those lovely hours unknotting her earlier. “That’s the thing about all this, the thing that makes it all so vicious…yet so workable. We can’t know what they had on him then, if anything, or what to do about it, unless you confront him.”
She said nothing for a long stretch of time. He continued to work the muscles of her shoulders and neck, knowing she needed to sort this out on her own, make the only conclusion she possibly could…and accept it. Finally she sighed and said, “I don’t want to hurt him, Sean. I don’t want to hurt what he and I have—no matter what his answer is. And I have to believe, have to—” she balled her fists in her lap and her shoulders tensed once again “—that he’s innocent of all this. But if I ask him and, for whatever reason, he bears some culpability…then where do we go? I won’t risk his future.”
“What about your future? Would he expect you to sacrifice yourself for his political career?”
She leaned back, looked up at him. “Of course not. But I’m not sure I could live with myself if I was the one to end it.”
Sean moved around her then, crouched in front of her knees. “But you’re not ending it. If he did wrong, then he was the one who brought it on himself.”
“But maybe he had no choice!” she blurted, then shoved her chair back and began pacing the kitchen floor.
Sean watched her for a moment or two, then quietly asked, “You don’t really think he did anything wrong, do you?”
She kept pacing. “With my whole heart, that’s what I want to believe.”
“Are you more afraid of that, or of confronting him and having him realize that you ever doubted him in the first place.”
She stopped, her back to him. After several silent moments he saw her shoulders begin to shake.
Feeling like the worst kind of louse for pushing her so hard, despite the necessity of it, he went to her, took her shoulders in his hands, tugged her around even when she tried to shrug him off.
“Come here.” He pulled her stiff body close, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head down to his shoulder. “I’m not trying to hurt you. And I don’t want your dad hurt, or your relationship with him. But maybe, just maybe…” He leaned back, prodded her chin with his hand until she was forced to look up into his eyes. Hers were brilliant with un-shed tears and it about tore his heart in two.
It also made him more determined than ever to see both Alan Bentley and Jack Rochambeau rot in hell.
“Maybe you need to give your dad more credit. Tell him everything, explain everything. He’ll understand why you had to ask.”
She sniffled. “I don’t know, Sean.” She leaned into him. “I just don’t know.” He heard her silent tears and felt her body tense, trying to fight them off one more time. “If I do that…and I’m wrong about him…” She couldn’t say any more. And, finally, the tears won.
Sean wrapped his arms around her again, held her tight. This time her arms snaked around his waist and she clung to him just as tightly. He hated seeing her like this.
Hated seeing how deeply this whole mess was torturing her. “Maybe,” he started, then stopped. It wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what was best…but he didn’t want her hurting any more than she already was. “Maybe we can handle this without Alan’s threat against your dad being made public. If we get enough on him, and handle it in just the right way, maybe we can shut him down. And shut him up.”
Her hold on him tightened.
He stroked her hair, stroked her back, wishing like hell he could promise her more. But one thing he knew from experience, they’d both feel better when they were actively working to put an end to this whole thing. Right now, what Laurel needed, what they both needed, was a plan of action.
“You recorded your conversation with Alan on the bridge. Do you think you can arrange another meeting there?”
Her tears had stopped and she’d begun to get a grip on herself. Slowly she pulled out of his arms and went to fish some tissues out of the box on the windowsill. After a very unladylike blow of the nose, which made them both smile briefly, she pulled the rest of herself together, squared her shoulders, and looked directly back at him. “Yes, I think I can do that.”
He marveled at her strength. Wanted to tell her then how proud her father would be to see how strong she was, to know her convictions and strength of character hadn’t been compromised despite the threat against her. He truly wished he could have convinced her to confront Seamus. He was certain, if the man was innocent, he’d forgive his daughter her doubts, considering the terrible strain she’d been under.
However, that slight possibility existed that he wasn’t innocent…and that would not only knock apart all of his future plans…but shatter Laurel’s heart, as well.
“What we need is an admission from him about the campaign contributions,” Sean said. “Specifically about their origin. If you can get any of the front company names, all the better. We’ll nail him for extortion and the rest of those bastards with him.”
She sighed. “It’s a tall order. Alan’s not stupid. But I can give it a shot.” She tossed her tissue in the trash. “Can you record the conversation from where you’ll be hiding? I don’t think I should take a chance on carrying a recorder this time.” She swore under her breath. “I only wish I’d had one on me the first time he made his threats.”
Sean Page 16
