Cordie was also thrilled. “How did this happen? Did Alec put in for a transfer? I knew he was tired of undercover work, but how—”
“No, he didn’t have to ask. The last year and a half, he’s had cases in Chicago, so the agency has decided to assign him here permanently. His new partner had something to do with it, too. Sort of, anyway.”
“Then I already love him,” Cordie said.
“How was he responsible?”
“When you get home, get on the Internet and go to YouTube. Type in Jack MacAlister’s name. You’ll see.”
“Just tell us,” Sophie said.
“Oh, no. You have to see it.”
“It?” Cordie repeated.
“A video. That’s all I’m going to tell you, and since you just said you already love his partner, I think you should go out with him.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Sophie said. “You’re not taking Cordie to the dark side. One FBI agent in this family is enough.”
Regan beamed. “So you’ve accepted Alec into our family?”
“I guess I have.”
Regan held up her glass. “Time for a toast. To family.”
JOURNAL ENTRY 28
ARCTIC camp
Kirk named the alpha male Ricky. The alpha female that Ricky has selected as his mate we call Lucy. Ricky is very partial to her. Lucy appears to be mischievous and playful, while Ricky seems a bit put out by her antics.
The adults head out in the morning and bring their prey back to Lucy and her pups.
This morning we waited until they were far enough away, then Brandon and I used dart guns to sedate the adults. We had to work quickly to attach the tracking monitors. I wanted to take blood samples, but he convinced me there wasn’t enough time.
We hunkered down a far distance away and used our binoculars to observe. We were too far away for any of them to see us, though we know they had our scent. Ricky was the first to wake. When he finally was able to stand, he appeared to look directly at us. Did he know what we had done? His unwavering stare made me think he did.
He bared his teeth at us, and the wind carried his growl.
I got a cold feeling inside.
WHILE SOPHIE AND HER FRIENDS WERE CHATTING IN the dining room, another gathering was taking place on the other side of the hotel lobby. Once a month Alec’s poker club met at the Hamilton. There were a dozen players in the club, and most of them were in law enforcement, but because of their complicated work schedules, never more than half that number could make it each month. During the summer when the weather cooperated, they met on the rooftop garden, and when it didn’t, they met in a private room connected to the bar on the first floor of the hotel.
John Wincott, a sleep-deprived detective with the Chicago Police Department, was a regular, and so was Gil Hutton, a retired policeman who always seemed to know the latest news before anyone else did. Gil didn’t like to drink alcohol these days, and so he was always John’s designated driver because, after one and a half beers, John was usually half asleep.
Since it was unseasonably hot and humid that night, they met in the room off the bar. Gil and John were already at the table when Jack walked in.
“I hate this frickin’ heat,” Gil remarked. “I hate the rain, too.”
“I’ll take hot over cold anytime,” Jack said. His shirt was covered with wet spots, and his dark hair was damp.
There was a small bar in the corner, and it was always fully stocked. Jack grabbed a Diet Pepsi and was opening it when John called out, “Get me a beer, will you?”
“I barely recognized you, Jack,” Gil said. “Without the matted, snarly, long hair and the beard, you look kind of human.”
“Kind of human?” John repeated. “I think he looks like a movie star. Wait, did I say movie star? I meant Internet star.”
The two men shared a good laugh. Jack handed John his beer, took a sip of his Pepsi, then dropped into a chair across from the two men. “I take it you’ve seen the video on YouTube.”
“About ten times now,” John said, grinning. “I don’t think it’s ever going to get old.”
“I found the cinematography visually stunning as well as sus-penseful,” Gil said with a straight face. “The way you held the perp down while you discussed the menu with Alec. Priceless.”
John nodded. “I hear they’re going to show it at the IMAX.”
Alec, carrying a tray stacked with sandwiches, walked in just in time to hear John’s comment. “YouTube?” he asked Jack.
All three men nodded. Since Gil had a knack for knowing what was going to happen before it happened, Alec asked him how long he thought it would take for this to blow over.
Gil scratched his bald head while he thought about it. “I’d give it a couple of days at the most before another video takes center stage. You shouldn’t be on ‘vacation’ long.”
“You know about the forced vacation?” Jack’s surprise was evident in his voice.
“Of course. I’ve always got my finger on the pulse, Jack.” He tapped his wrist. “On the pulse.”
“So we’ll be back at work in a week at the most,” Alec said, nodding.
“Unless Jack needs to shoot someone else while he’s ordering a taco or something,” John said cheerfully. “Or …”
Jack sighed. “Or what?”
“Or unless the networks pick it up.”
“Ah, damn,” Jack groaned.
John thought Jack’s reaction was humorous and laughed until tears came into his eyes.
“Are we through talking about this yet?” Jack demanded.
“Probably not,” Gil said.
“We’re here to play poker, aren’t we?” Jack asked. “Who are we waiting for?”
“Vice,” Gil answered.
“All of them?” Alec asked. He ducked down behind the bar to get a soft drink from the refrigerator.
“No, just Woods and Zahner.” Gil smiled as he said their names. Most of the guys from vice were good card players, but Woods and Zahner were the exception. They were both terrible. The funny thing was, neither seemed to realize it. They always thought their losses were due to bad luck, and none of the other players felt the need to enlighten them.
“What about Aiden?” John asked.
“He can’t make it tonight,” Alec said. “He’s still in Sydney on hotel business.”
A collective sigh of relief went around the table, for Alec’s brother-in-law was the reigning champion. When he played, he usually won, and when he was on a hot streak, he won damn near every hand.
Jack’s cell phone rang. He smiled when he saw who was calling, got up from the table before he answered, then walked to the window and looked out at the rain while he listened.
“Must be a woman,” John commented.
“Ah …” Gil sighed. “I remember those days.”
There was a knock at the door, and Regan opened it and stuck her head into the room. “May I interrupt you for a moment?”
Gil and John stood as she hurried to her husband’s side. They watched as Alec leaned down and whispered something into her ear that caused her to blush. Gil rolled his eyes heavenward. Alec and Regan had been married for well over a year, but they still acted like newlyweds. He couldn’t fault Alec for his lovesick behavior. Regan was quite a catch: dark hair, pretty eyes, long shapely legs. Gil understood why Alec had been drawn to her—any man would be—and he also understood why Alec had stayed. She was a smart businesswoman; she had a kind heart and gentle spirit, and her sense of humor was almost as warped as Alec’s. They were meant for each other.
Regan chatted with Gil and John for a couple of minutes to catch up. She had known both of them for as long as she had known Alec and considered them good friends. She would have spoken to Jack, but he was on the phone and had his back to her. She had met him once at a dinner party and had been impressed. He was better than good at what he did—Alec had told her so. He also assured her that he could not have a better partner, so she didn’t have to worry as mu
ch. She had seen the video on YouTube, and that had impressed her as well. In a crisis, Jack had shown amazing strength, speed, and accuracy. It was a bit scary how nonchalant he had been about it all, but then he was used to undercover work. Jack and Alec, she decided, were perfect partners. They were so much alike.
Jack finished his call and turned around just as Regan said, “Sophie needs a favor.”
He walked forward. “Hi, Regan. It’s good to see you again. Who’s Sophie?”
“You haven’t told him about Sophie?” John asked Alec the question and started to laugh.
“No one told me” Alec said.
“John, what’s so amusing?” Regan gave him the very same look his own wife used whenever she was irritated with him.
“It’s just that … you know … her …” John began, then looked to Gil for help. John had started to say something about Sophie’s infamous father but stopped in time. Regan was extremely protective of Sophie.
“Her what?” Regan said.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked.
“You’ve missed out,” Gil said. “Not meeting Sophie. She’s something else. If I were thirty years younger and thirty pounds lighter …”
“You still wouldn’t have a shot in hell,” John said. He looked at Jack as he explained, “Sophie doesn’t particularly like the police or the FBI—”
“Or any law enforcement agency. We’re the exceptions,” Gil said. “She loves us.”
“You really never mentioned Sophie to your partner, Alec?” John was having difficulty wrapping his mind around the fact.
“It never came up,” Alec said. “And by the way, when you found out, you didn’t tell me.”
“We’re getting off track here. Let’s get back to Regan, shall we?” Gil said.
“Yeah, okay,” John agreed. “You said Sophie needs a favor? What kind of favor? Is it legal or illegal?” he asked Regan.
She leaned into her husband’s side. “It depends on how you look at it. She needs Gil’s help.”
John nodded. “Say no more. I get it.”
Jack kept waiting for someone to fill him in. He knew he’d missed something vital in the conversation. He hadn’t known Gil or John long at all, and he’d only been Alec’s partner on the last three assignments, so he figured this had to be an inside joke.
They all heard laughter coming from the main bar, and a second later the door opened and Sophie walked in.
Whoa. Jack felt as though he’d just taken a hard hit to his mid-section. The sight of her knocked the air out of him. Long blond hair swayed against her shoulders with each step she took, and her body—my God! her body—was sheer perfection. She was wearing ridiculously high heels that made her legs look a mile long, and the fluid drape of her silk dress revealed every curve. If there were any flaws, Jack couldn’t find them, but then he was distracted by the sexy way her hips moved as she walked toward Regan.
Sophie greeted Alec first with a kiss on his cheek, then turned to smile at John and Gil who were both grinning at her like boys with raging hormones.
Regan introduced her to Jack. “This is my best friend, Sophie Rose.”
Sophie smiled at Jack and said hello, but other than that, she pretty much dismissed him. That pricked his interest all the more. Jack wasn’t used to being ignored by women. He loved them and they loved him. Alec called him a player, but Jack didn’t think he was. He just didn’t believe in committed relationships, and while marriage might work for his friends, it wasn’t for him. He liked being free to do what he wanted when he wanted, and he made certain the women he dated understood that. The truth lessened complications. There were as many women as men who felt exactly the way he did.
He watched with a connoisseur’s appreciation as Sophie sat down at the table next to Gil.
“Gil, I hate to ask …” Sophie began.
“What is it you need, love?”
“Would you mind cleaning my apartment again?”
“Of course I wouldn’t mind. You know I’d do anything for you. What about your office? Do you think it needs a good cleaning, too?”
She thought about it for a few seconds and was about to say no, that it would be too much of an imposition, but Regan nudged her and whispered, “It couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“Yes, all right. I would appreciate it if you could clean my cubicle, too. What time is good for you?”
“How about tomorrow afternoon around four? I’ll start with your apartment,” he explained. “And if you can wait, I’ll clean your office after five Monday evening. Does that work?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And thank you so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
He wobbled his eyebrows comically. “We’ll think of something.”
Sophie laughed. “Come on, Regan. Cordie’s trapped in the bar with two guys from vice. They’re scaring the other customers.”
Alec held the door open for his wife and her friend, smiling over something Regan said as she passed him, but as Sophie was walking out the doorway, she looked back over her shoulder at Jack. “It was lovely to meet you.”
Damn. Her sultry smile had just the impact Jack thought she intended. She left him gaping.
She was gone before he could think of a response. He stared at the door for several seconds while he tried to remember how to swallow. He finally got it together and turned to Gil to ask if Sophie was involved with anyone.
Sprawled in their chairs, John and Gill were watching him, grinning like idiots.
“What?” Jack demanded.
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Gil said.
“Yes, she is,” Jack agreed.
At this point Woods and Zahner followed Alec into the room. The two vice cops looked like they owned a tattoo parlor. Their arms and necks were covered in faded designs. Woods had two bottled beers in his hands, and Zahner was carrying a bowl of cashews.
“What’s going on?” Zahner asked as John started laughing.
“Jack just met Sophie,” Gil explained.
“Yeah? Just now?” Zahner asked, breaking into a wide smile.
“She’s not married,” John volunteered.
“And Regan says she isn’t dating anyone at the moment. Are you interested?”
Jack pulled out a chair but didn’t sit. “What’s wrong with her?”
“He doesn’t know?” Zahner asked.
“Apparently not,” Woods said.
“What’s wrong with her?” Jack repeated. “Has she been married three or four times? Is she out on bail for murder? What?”
“She’s never been arrested,” Alec volunteered.
“She’s an upstanding citizen,” John added.
“She’s a real sweetheart,” Woods said.
“And?” Jack prodded, waiting for the zinger.
“And she’s hot, man, really hot,” Zahner said.
“And her name is Sophie Rose,” Alec said.
He was about to explain that Rose wasn’t Sophie’s middle name, but John shook his head and held his hand up. “Wait for it … wait for it …”
Jack suddenly flinched.
John burst into laughter as he leaned back and put both hands up. “And there it is.”
Jack frowned. “Son of a … she’s Bobby Rose’s daughter?”
“He’s not an FBI agent for nothing,” Woods drawled.
“Jack figured it out quicker than you did,” Zahner reminded him.
“If you could see your face, Jack, you’d think you were having a stroke,” Gil told him.
Jack dropped into his chair. He looked dumbfounded. “What’s the cleaning her apartment all about? You looking for bugs?”
“That’s right,” John answered for Gil.
“And every time I look, I find them.”
“Who plants them?” Jack asked.
“I’ve tried to find out,” Alec said. He wasn’t smiling now. “No agency will own up to it, but if I had to guess …”
“FBI?” Zahner suggested.
<
br /> “No, definitely not FBI.” Alec was emphatic.
“I’m thinking CIA,” Wood said, nodding.
“No way. It’s IRS,” John said. “Yeah, definitely IRS.”
“ATF,” Gil said. “Absolutely ATF”
“FDA,” Woods said.
“That’s food and drugs, you idiot,” Zahner said, laughing.
“My guess is none of the above. Are we playing cards or what?” Alec asked.
John dealt the first hand. He looked up at Jack and asked, “You still want her phone number?”
Jack didn’t answer.
JOURNAL ENTRY 32
ARCTIC CAMP
Eric and I managed to collect several blood samples.
Arctic wolves haven’t been hunted by men, so they’ve been relatively trusting. They stare, but they don’t retreat or attack. They’re curious creatures, and our scent must be strange to them.
Yesterday was a sad day. One of Lucy’s pups died. Though we were curious to know the cause, Brandon is insisting that we not interfere. He wants to watch the dynamic of the pack as it deals with the loss, so we won’t do an autopsy. Ricky was quite stoic about it and left the camp to gather food as if nothing had happened.
The blood Eric and I have studied thus far has indicated a hormone I have not been able to identify yet, and Ricky appears to have high levels of it. I’m anxious to delve into this further.
Brandon isn’t interested in our discovery. He seems a bit threatened by any activity he hasn’t approved of in advance. Kirk is indifferent to it all. Each evening he writes copious notes about each member of the pack.
I also write in my journal as often as I can. I can’t wait to begin my own experiments, but I must wait until the dead of winter to begin.
SOPHIE COULDN’T GET BACK THE HOURS SHE’D SPENT WITH William Harrington, but she felt she was owed, at the very least, an apology. She had taken more than an hour after the race to look for him.
As she had walked back to her apartment that morning, she had tried to call Harrington at his home. His answering machine had clicked on, and she’d left a message for him to please call her. She had tried to sound concerned, not irritated. But she was irritated. How could anyone be so rude? And what about dinner Monday night? That, she assumed, was off.
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