by Ava Drake
Tucker added, “Not to mention Jack left the hotel without a fight. If she was, in fact, abducting him, she tricked him into walking out under his own power.”
Stone shrugged. “You two know your boss better than I do. Is he that gullible and/or that ruled by his dick?”
Both men snorted. Okay, then. Jack Lacey was stupid enough to let a porn star hoodwink him, and he was addicted enough to sex to let it ruin his life. Part of him wanted to let this jerk go down in flames and not get found in time to avoid a scandal. But one look at Christian’s stricken, pale face and Stone cursed under his breath. Fine. He’d find the damned senator.
“Where to now?” Tucker asked.
They had to find a trail. No matter how faint nor how cold. They needed a starting place from which to move forward. “Back to the hotel. If they snuck out, they probably didn’t walk to their final destination. Let’s check out the taxis that worked the hotel last night.”
The next several hours were tedious and frustrating as they combed through what hotel security camera footage did exist. But eventually Christian pointed at the video monitor. “There. That’s him.”
Stone leaned down over his shoulder to peer at the grainy image. “The guy in the baseball cap?”
“I’d know his walk anywhere.”
Stone watched a nondescript sedan pull up at the curb in front of the senator. Chesty stepped into the camera frame briefly before sliding into the backseat of the car. Baseball Cap followed her, never showing his face to the camera. But Christian was convinced the faceless man was Lacey. Stone had to agree that the height and build were right.
“That looks like an Uber ride,” Christian commented.
“Possible. The good news is Jack and Chesty weren’t being herded into the vehicle at gunpoint. I think we can safely say the two of them took off voluntarily.”
“What the hell is he thinking?” Christian burst out.
“Did you get a good look at her? I don’t think thought has much to do with it.” They made brief eye contact, and Christian looked away guiltily. Yeah. Neither one of them was in a position to cast stones at Jack Lacey on that score.
A quick call to Wild Cards, Inc.’s operation center yielded the destination the Uber driver had delivered the senator and his girlfriend to. Stone reported it tersely to Christian. “The South Miami Marina.”
“Oh God. He’s gotten on a party boat with a bunch of women, booze, and drugs,” Christian groaned. “The press will get ahold of this for sure. How soon can you get him back here, Stone?”
“Depends upon where he is. If they’re fucking their way through the Florida Keys, pretty fast. A quick call to the Coast Guard, and they’ll have him on a helicopter back to Miami in a few hours.”
“And if they’re not in the Keys?”
Stone shrugged. “If he’s gone outside of US jurisdiction, it could take longer.”
“He’s got a major appearance at a Latin American Chamber of Commerce event the day after tomorrow. Massive campaign donations will come from it. You’ve got to get him back.”
“I’ll do my best. Let’s head down to the marina and find out what boat he’s on and where it’s headed.”
It turned out not to be that easy, however. Stone had to more or less threaten the marina manager’s life before the name of the yacht—the Wrastle Castle—was forthcoming. As for its intended destination, the beleaguered manager disappeared into a back office to get the navigation plan.
“Do you always bully people into giving you what you want?” Christian muttered.
“Do you want to find your boss or not?” Stone muttered back. “Mrs. Lacey didn’t hire me to be nice. She hired me to get results.”
“Yes, but your tactics are making enemies for my employer.”
“Do you care?”
“In this case, not particularly. Jack created this mess. He can deal with the fallout. But in general, no, I don’t approve of such tactics.” Christian tilted his head, considering Stone. “You don’t stick around long enough after a job to face the consequences of your actions anyway, do you?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You cause havoc and then split. You move on and leave behind a mess for other people to clean up.”
“Is this about you and me?” Stone demanded under his breath.
“No.” A pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “Maybe.”
“Take pot shots at me later,” Stone bit out. “Right now we need to find Jack.”
“That wasn’t a—”
The marina manager stepped out of his office.
“Later.”
CHRISTIAN winced. Stone had a point. The first priority was to find Jack Lacey. They could deal with the fact that the senator’s disappearance was their fault after they found Jack.
Not to mention that he wasn’t in the habit of dragging personal crap into the office either. His ambitious family had taught him that lesson at an early age—long before they realized their golden-haired scion was gay and the family name irrevocably disgraced.
“Oh, for the love of God. Check out your boss’s destination,” Stone said grimly.
Christian took the float plan with grave trepidation and glanced through it. “Barbados?” he squawked. “How long will it take to sail down there?”
The marina manager supplied helpfully, “On the Wrastle Castle? Four or five days.”
“Four. Or five,” Christian repeated blankly.
“You okay?” Stone asked.
“Hell to the no, I’m not okay,” he burst out. “Jack Lacey has to make a campaign appearance in two days. Hell, the casino night is in five days! He’ll barely make it back in time.”
Stone commented gently, “You’re assuming that they’ll go directly to Barbados and won’t stop at any other ports of call along the way. Or sail in circles for the hell of it.”
“I’m dead,” Christian announced. “Finished.”
“C’mon. It can’t be that bad,” Stone said sympathetically. “Let’s go back to the hotel. We’ll figure something out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. Jack has finally managed to destroy his career, and he’s going to take me down with him.”
Stone headed back to the SUV while Christian followed in silence. He ought to be furious, but all he felt was numb. The senator had really gone and done it this time. Not only could Jack kiss reelection good-bye, but the bastard was going to end up in front of the Senate Ethics Committee over this stunt. His wife was going to be forced to divorce him. And the aide who let him slip so badly off the leash would be persona non grata in extremis.
A plan. He had to come up with a plan. There had to be a way out of this crisis. “Can we still send the Coast Guard after him? In a ship or something?”
“The Wrastle Castle is in international waters. The US Coast Guard has no jurisdiction.”
“What about the Navy?”
“It’s not their job to scrape senators off party boats. And it would go public for sure. Naval vessels have big crews and Wi-Fi.”
“Fuck.”
“Cancel the Chamber of Commerce thing.”
“You have no idea how hard I had to work to schedule the appearance in the first place. After last year’s vote on immigration, Jack’s been in the doghouse with every proimmigration group in this hemisphere. He’s giving a speech day after tomorrow to announce his support for the newest round of immigration reform.”
“He’s flip-flopping on the issue?” Stone asked in surprise.
“Not exactly. It’s more like he’s moving ninety degrees. I finally convinced him he’s on the wrong side of the numbers and he has to move off his personal beliefs if he wants to get reelected.”
“It doesn’t look to me like the guy has much interest in keeping his job.”
He sighed. “Jill gets as much or more good work done than he does. She’s pushed him to run for reelection so she can keep doing her charity work.”
“Can’t she do that as the
wife of a retired senator?”
“It’s all about power in Washington. She’s got power if Jack’s in office. She’s an afterthought once he loses.”
“Too bad he’s hosing her over too with this little adventure of his,” Stone commented.
Christian slammed both palms down on the vehicle dashboard. A satisfying sting exploded in his hands. “There has to be something I can do!”
Stone parked the SUV in the hotel garage and got out of the car. “Short of coming up with a doppelgänger for Jack, the outcome of this episode is inevitable. Wild Cards, Inc. will do what it can to help you and Mrs. Lacey. You have my word on that.”
“Thanks.”
They climbed into the elevator in heavy silence. “Hell, I might even consider hiring a body double for the bastard if I could find—” He broke off, staring at Stone.
“What?”
He looked up at the camera mounted in the corner of the elevator and muttered without moving his lips, “In the room.”
Obviously alarmed by the sudden cloak-and-dagger turn of conversation, Stone did his full security he-man sweep of the hallway before he would let Christian out. They hustled down the hallway to Lacey’s suite, and Stone spun to face him the minute the door closed. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I need a body double for Jack Lacey, and you bear a freakish resemblance to him.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t sign up to impersonate your boss.”
“But you said it yourself. You do whatever it takes to get the job done.”
“My job is to find Jack Lacey and get his ass back here quietly.”
“You owe me, Stone,” he blurted in desperation. “If we hadn’t been busy making love all night, we could’ve stopped Jack from taking off.”
“Doubtful. No way would he have let us stay in his suite while he screwed Chesty, and he was clear the first day that he didn’t want a guard stationed outside his front door.”
“Then please do this for me because you give a damn about me.” The words were out of his mouth before Christian could stop them. He knew—he knew—that his night with Stone had been a one-time deal. He had no business invoking personal feelings between them, and certainly not in the name of professional arm twisting.
Stone stared at him. The silence that stretched out between them was painful in its damning of him for going to that taboo and forbidden place of feelings.
But then Stone shocked him by mumbling, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do. I’m not an actor.”
Hope flared like an arc welder in his chest. “I can teach you. Hell, I tell the man what to say all the time anyway. And his clothes are all here. I’m sure they’d fit you. Maybe a little alteration to make room for your biceps….” He continued in a rush, “For the love of God, say yes. I know I have no right to ask this of you. But you’d be saving my life. Everything I’ve worked for. My career. My reputation—” He broke off. His respectability. Proving to his family that he wasn’t a failure. He wasn’t exaggerating. Everything hung in the balance.
Stone let out a long, unhappy sigh. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Christian threw his arms around Stone and laid a big, grateful kiss on him. Realizing belatedly what he’d done, he stumbled back abruptly. “Jesus. I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“I dunno. I’m thinking you’re going to owe me some serious sexual favors for this.”
Christian stared. Stone said it straight-faced. He still was interested in a physical relationship? Really? Well, son of a bitch. “Sexual favors later. Right now we’ve got work to do.”
Chapter Seven
STONE looked into the mirror in shock. His long hair had been shorn off and trimmed into a short, conservative side part to match Jack Lacey’s. The barber who’d come up to the suite had close shaved him with a straight razor as well. Stone fingered his smooth cheeks, familiarizing himself with their foreign texture as the guy packed up and left.
He commented to Christian, who looked on, grinning, “I look younger than him.”
“I’m sure I’ll cause you enough headaches in the next two days to give you a few extra worry lines. Besides, everyone knows that television ages a person. People will be able to comment on how young and healthy you look in the flesh. Or you can tell them Miami has been good to you.”
“It was. Until you came up with this cockamamie idea.”
“Cockamamie? Wow. You really did grow up on a farm, didn’t you?”
“Screw you, preppie boy.”
“Anytime, cow pie.”
“Oh, you did not just go there—” Stone started, rising out of the chair threateningly.
Grinning, Christian interrupted. “Let’s go pick out a few suits for you.” He led the way to the senator’s bedroom to raid the closet.
“This feels weird,” Stone announced. “Like I’m stealing his life.”
“You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you, Mr. Big Bad Soldier? Do I have to double dog dare you to do this?”
His natural urge to accept a dare surged forward. The brilliant bastard was playing him, and they both knew it. He scowled back at Christian’s triumphant grin.
“Try this one.” Christian held out a conservative, charcoal summer-wool suit. “It’s one of the suits Jack wears when Tucker insists on a Kevlar vest.”
“Jack has to wear bulletproof vests? Are death threats that frequent for him? Is that why he wouldn’t take this one seriously?”
“To take your questions in order, Tucker orders them as a standard precaution when we’re touring high-crime areas. Death threats are common enough, but never as persistent and psychotic as this one has been. And last, I have no idea why Jack refused to believe Tucker or you when you tried to tell him his life was in real danger.”
Stone stripped off his own shirt and dropped his pants, aware of Christian staring appreciatively at him. “Fantasizing about doing the senator?” he quipped.
“Do you seriously think I’m shallow enough to like a guy solely because of how he looks?” Christian snapped.
“I dunno. You tell me.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Stone. Wild horses couldn’t drag me to Jack’s bed, assuming he even swung that way.”
“You really don’t like him, do you?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Do all his staffers feel that way about him?”
“Pretty much everyone who knows him hates him.”
“Except for Chesty, of course.”
Christian snorted. “Give her a week.”
Stone zipped the trousers. “Not a bad fit.”
Christian held the suit jacket for him, and Stone slipped his arms into it. Christian’s hands rested briefly on his broad shoulders and then fell away. Yeah, he was aware of Christian that way all the time too.
He flexed his arms and reached across his body. “A little tight across the shoulders.”
“The tailor should be able to let that out some.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Do you want to be able to move your arms?”
Stone scowled. “What if the tailor and barber and makeup artist or whoever else you hire to pull off this makeover tell someone I’m not the senator?”
“I’ve paid them all exorbitantly to keep their mouths shut. They won’t talk.”
As if on cue, a knock at the door turned out to be the tailor. Stone spent the next hour being poked, prodded, felt up, and otherwise abused as the tailor marked several suits and a half-dozen dress shirts for tailoring. The shoulders and sleeves needed letting out to accommodate his more athletic build.
“While you’re at it,” Stone commented to the tailor, “I need you to let out the left side seams of the jackets to accommodate a sidearm in a shoulder holster.”
“You can’t wear a gun as a senator!” Christian exclaimed.
“Watch me.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Stone retorted.
The tailor looke
d back and forth between the glaring combatants, grabbed the suit coats, and fled the suite.
The door closed solidly, and Stone stalked over to where Christian leaned against the bedroom wall. “In case you’d forgotten, someone is trying to kill Jack Lacey.” He planted a hand on the wall beside Christian’s head and leaned in aggressively. “And thanks to your ingenious evil plan, I’m Jack Lacey.”
One side of Christian’s mouth lifted in amusement. “Your usual intimidation tactics won’t work on me, you know.”
Stone stared. What intimidation—oh. He shoved away from the wall but didn’t go so far as to step back. He was still close enough to smell Christian’s expensive aftershave. He felt his resolve weakening in the face of the guy’s general gorgeousness and close proximity. “I need a weapon. For self-protection.”
“That’s why you’ve got Tucker.”
He did the protecting. He wasn’t the protectee. He wouldn’t even begin to know how to let someone else be responsible for his safety. Stone asked lamely, “Speaking of Travis, have you told him about this whackadoodle plan of yours?”
“Not yet. I thought I might test out the finished product on him and see how close a match you are.”
He just rolled his eyes. This was arguably the dumbest stunt he’d ever pulled. He had a sinking feeling that when this all went to hell—and it would—that his ass was going to be grass right along with Jack and Christian’s.
He spun away from Christian and all that smoking-hot temptation. How was he supposed to focus on becoming Jack Lacey when all he wanted to do was take the senator’s aide to bed?
Christian launched into a mind-numbing briefing on who all was going to be at this Chamber of Commerce shindig tomorrow evening. He sounded as if he needed the distraction of work too. At least Stone could take solace in not being the only one uncomfortable, horny, and well on the way to frustrated as hell. As for the speech, the good news was that no one scheduled to attend had ever met Jack in person before.
True to his word, the tailor had the first suit back up to the suite in about an hour. Stone donned the Italian suit and stomped into a pair of Jack’s cowboy boots, which fortunately fit him with only a little pinching in the toes. He jammed a cowboy hat on his head and scowled as Christian stepped back to observe the effect.
