by Caila Jaynes
He looked up and smirked. “Not sure. But it’ll be my top priority, I can assure you.”
Wow. This arrogant man made her want to shriek with frustration.
“You’ve got a solution now,” he said. “So if you don’t mind . . .”
But she did mind. A lot.
Clenching her teeth to keep from shouting at him, Claire forced herself to walk away. Upstairs in her room, she tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and grabbed a pen from her purse.
How do I word this?
No matter what she said, it would sound like an excuse to Professor Moore. Resigned that she had no better option, Claire settled on the term family emergency and wrote out the note. Folding it, she wrote her professor’s name and where her office was located on the front, and then went back downstairs.
“Here. Thank you for doing this,” she forced herself to say as she handed the note to Grayson.
He flipped it open and raised an eyebrow once he’d finished reading her note. “Why all the worry? It sounds like you hardly ever make it to school, anyway.”
Claire’s blood went hot and she sucked in a furious breath. “You’ve got some nerve.”
Grayson shrugged, then pushed away from the table and headed for the fridge.
Seething, Claire followed. “How does anyone stand working with you?”
He took a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. “I get along fine with my colleagues, but thank you for your concern.”
She tilted her head, giving him a disbelieving look. “I’ll just bet you do.”
“I’ve been nice to you, Claire. It’s you who’s making the unrealistic demands.”
“Unrealistic? Making sure my dog is safe is unrealistic? Wanting to let my parents know I’m safe is unrealistic? And trying to keep from flunking out of law school is too much to ask?” Her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
“When there’s a contract out on you?” He narrowed his eyes. “You’d better believe it is. I know you’re probably used to getting whatever you want, but it’s not going to happen with me.”
All Claire could do was stare at him as the words hit her like a sledgehammer. Grayson had the same misconception about her as Professor Moore and so many others did—that she was spoiled and entitled because of who her father was.
Humiliation coursed through her but she forced her spine to straighten. Grayson Matthews didn’t know her. He had no right to judge.
“Is it my turn to analyze you now?” Not bothering to wait for a response as he sipped his juice, she stiffened and stood up straight, narrowing her eyes at him. “You jump to conclusions before you know the facts. That’s not the best personality trait for an investigative agent, if you ask me.”
Grayson didn’t look up but his jaw clenched, a clear sign her jab had hit its mark.
Feeling slightly better, she whirled and escaped from the room. From now on, she’d quadruple her efforts to avoid Agent Grayson Matthews.
Early that evening, Claire sat in the kitchen with Jeremy, sharing a simple dinner of soup and sandwiches as they got to know each other better. When he asked about school, she told him about her capstone project. After she gave him an overview of Chris’s case, Jeremy asked a few questions about studying law, ending with the one she dreaded.
“What’s your specialty going to be?”
Under the table, she dug her fingers into her thighs. For some reason, the question always made her uncomfortable.
From an early age, Claire had understood her role within the family—to build on the Parker family name and enhance their image. So far, she’d done her job well. In her opinion, at any rate.
But the result? Here she was, working toward an advanced degree that would place her in a career she wasn’t passionate about. Each time she thought about it, her stomach churned.
She shook off the thought and gave Jeremy a tight smile. “Most likely I’ll do corporate law.”
It was the safest choice. Anyway, once she secured a position and got into a routine, surely everything would be okay. She’d get into the swing of things, right?
Jeremy halted, his spoon in midair, and gave her a dubious look. These federal agents must have been trained in interrogation tactics, because he seemed to pick up on her hedging. When he raised an eyebrow at her in challenge, she gave in and came clean.
“Okay, the truth is I’m not sure I want to be an attorney. My dad was a lawyer before he got into politics, and he’s always wanted me to go to Georgetown like he did. So that’s what I’m doing. I like parts of it all right, but sometimes I wonder if this is what I should be doing with my life.”
“They put a lot of pressure on you?”
Uncomfortable with that question, she stared at her plate. “I suppose. Law school is competitive and high-pressure, the work load is crazy, and I have to balance that with missing class sometimes to go with my dad on the campaign trail.” She picked up her spoon and stirred her soup. “It’s not like I can say no to my parents, you know? But being gone means I’m always in hot water with my professors, especially one of them who thinks I’m just coasting my way through school.”
“And what do you want?”
Claire sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I need to figure it out, and soon. I’ll be graduating in May.”
He chewed a bite of his sandwich and swallowed before saying, “The case you’re working on now seems to interest you.”
“It does. If I had my choice, I’d probably practice criminal law. But the thought of explaining to my parents that my future clientele will be criminals . . .” She gave Jeremy a wry smile. “I’m not so sure that will go over well.”
Seeming to sense her discomfort, Jeremy changed gears. “So, you were MIA at a meeting on Chris’s case Friday, and now you’ll miss another one tomorrow?”
Embarrassed, she nodded.
“I can have our admin call your professor. Joanne would be happy to do that for you.”
Claire blinked at him as the words registered. “Really?”
“Sure.”
Why didn’t Grayson offer that? She shrugged off her annoyance and thanked Jeremy.
“Grayson said he’d get a note to my professor, but I’d feel a lot better if you’d make sure she was contacted. It’s important.”
“Give me the info after dinner and I’ll leave a message for Joanne. It’s no problem.” He checked his watch. “But it’s after hours now, so she won’t be able to call until first thing tomorrow morning.”
Claire’s relief flagged slightly but she gave him a smile of thanks. His solution was still a lot better than what Grayson had begrudgingly offered. Given the way he felt about her, he had probably thrown her note away, anyway.
Jeremy picked up his second sandwich and bit into it as Claire watched. The man was built like a linebacker and could really put away a meal.
“Have you ever played football?” she asked.
“In high school and college.” Around another mouthful, he added, “Had a full ride to Notre Dame before I blew out my knee my sophomore year.”
“Are your brothers athletic too?”
He nodded. “You name the sport; all of us played it.”
“So, you’ve got your mom and brothers in Chicago. Do you have a girlfriend there too?”
His face fell as he set down his sandwich. “Ex-girlfriend.”
“How long since you broke up?”
“A year. I travel a lot for work, and it really messed with the relationship.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He sighed. “I’ve been missing her a lot lately. I’m thinking of calling her when I’m home next.”
“I bet she’ll appreciate that.”
Claire studied him, wishing she had a sister she could introduce to Jeremy. Young and handsome with blond hair and blue eyes, he was big and imposing on the outside but a teddy bear on the inside, a sweet and considerate person.
Jeremy would make some girl very happy someday, and h
e’d certainly made Claire’s time here more pleasant. Unlike Grayson, who’d set off her temper with nearly every conversation. Which was strange, because she didn’t consider herself a difficult person. In fact, she usually tried too hard to please.
Jeremy focused on his plate as he asked, “You have a boyfriend, right?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know about any of this.” She gestured around the room. “I should have begged Grayson for another call.” As she looked down at the diamond bracelet Gabe had given her, an idea came to mind. “Would your admin be able to call him for me too?”
Instead of readily agreeing as Claire expected, Jeremy seemed hesitant. A few seconds later, he said he’d see what he could do.
Chapter Nineteen
Grayson awoke abruptly and rolled out of bed at dinnertime that night after only a few hours’ sleep, his heart pounding and his body covered with sweat. The insomnia had worsened since he’d been back from Scranton. Between his worry over his mother and the stress of protecting someone who bucked him at every turn, he was at the end of his rope.
Surprised by the fervor of Claire’s demands that morning, he’d driven to Georgetown and dropped off her note at the law school before his nap. Based on the background information they’d received on her, Grayson was under the impression she was going to law school on a lark, not taking it very seriously. Her attendance record was spotty, although her grades were decent. She lived alone in a ritzy condo, obviously purchased by her parents, and drove a brand-new BMW. Her father was a senator, although since he came from old money, he probably spent his way to victory. She had a rich boyfriend who was a con artist, and she’d just come from Florida, where she’d been helping him “entertain” clients.
In Grayson’s mind, all of it added up to a spoiled rich girl with no ambition, values, or convictions, and that simply pissed him the hell off. He’d worked too hard for what he’d accomplished and had no patience for self-serving, entitled trust-fund babies.
He rested his palms on the bathroom counter as he studied his face in the mirror, grimacing at the dark circles under his eyes. If he weren’t on protective detail, he’d consider taking a sleeping pill, willing to endure the awful headaches the pills gave him in exchange for some rest. But being on the job meant he’d have to suffer through; there was no way he’d risk being groggy from medication with someone’s life in his hands.
Even a trust-fund baby.
He shook his head at the thought and threw on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats, laced on his running shoes, and slipped downstairs and out the front door with only a quick wave to Jeremy. A good five miles before his shift would clear his head and get his adrenaline pumping, which would go a long way toward easing the turmoil inside him.
Remembering Claire asking him earlier in the day if she could go on a run, he felt a quick twinge of guilt. If she weren’t a protectee—and a major pain in the ass—he’d ask her to go with him. But he’d been serious when he told her it wasn’t safe. The last thing he needed was to parade his protectee around the neighborhood, making them a target.
The neighborhood was quiet as he ran, cars in the driveways and lights starting to come on here and there as the sun went down. Brightly lit windows revealed families sitting at dinner, and a loneliness he didn’t expect sent a sharp pang slashing through him. Grayson took a deep breath and ran faster, focusing his attention straight ahead, ignoring the tableaus he passed.
The temperature dropped as darkness fell, cooling the sweat on his body. His shoes slapped on the pavement, the soothing rhythm emptying his mind and eventually loosening the tension that locked up his muscles every time he thought of family, of his mother.
Frustrated, he turned his thoughts to work. Eli had called earlier to report the team had finally identified which retailer had sold the burner phone Gibson had been texting. They’d requested the store’s surveillance footage, hoping to get an image of the buyer good enough to run through facial recognition.
Hopefully, they’d ID someone who tied into Claire’s life, which would make it easier to find a motive for kidnapping her. As of now, their prime suspect was still the boyfriend. He certainly had motive—a big ransom would go a long way toward settling down his investors. If whoever bought the burner phone could be linked to Gabe Rogers, Grayson would be that much closer to solving this case and getting this annoying woman out of his life.
Marginally better by the time he got back, Grayson took the stairs two at a time. Locked in his room, he stripped off his damp clothes and took a long shower, but resisted the idea of going downstairs once he’d dressed. Wanting to stall a little longer before possibly having to face Claire, he decided to call his aunt for an update on his mom.
“Eleanor’s doing better,” his aunt Mary said. “No more fever, thank God, and her spirits are good.”
“Did she have the blood transfusion today?”
“She did, but . . .” Mary’s voice trailed off, her worry practically radiating over the phone line. “Honestly, Gray, it didn’t really help. She’s still as pale and weak as she was before.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” He clenched his fist, wanting nothing more than to pound something. “Is there anything else that can be done?”
Mary let out a long breath. “No. She either gets better or she doesn’t, and she doesn’t appear to be on the road to remission. I wish—”
“Please, Aunt Mary, don’t,” he said. “I’ll try to come back later this week, if I can. Just give her a kiss for me, please? And tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Fine.” His aunt’s voice was curt as she said, “I’ll tell her you called,” and then the line went dead.
So much for relieving the stress.
Just as Grayson was about to leave his room, his phone rang.
“We’ve got some new information,” Eli said without even saying hello. “You’re not going to believe it.”
“You’ve gotten the video surveillance?”
“No, but it’s coming. It was something the techs found in Rex Gibson’s phone records, going back a few days before we got the wiretap in place. A call was made from Fishkill Correctional Facility to Gibson’s phone.”
A chill ran down Grayson’s spine. As part of his former partner’s last assignment with the task force, Camden had infiltrated the Wicked Disciples motorcycle club. During a raid by the task force, Grayson had shot and killed Butch Cobb, president of the club’s Newburgh chapter. The remaining club members had been incarcerated in New York.
“Butch Cobb’s crew,” he said. “They’re at Fishkill. That’s where you’re going with this, isn’t it?”
“Afraid so. We had their cells tossed, and the guards found a phone in Deck Wallace’s.”
“Cobb’s number two, right? Something tells me he wasn’t contacting Rex Gibson for drugs.”
“Guards have reported that Wallace has been making noise about getting back at Camden, so it’s possible he was looking into a hit. And since Camden and Autumn are now living not too far from DC . . .”
“Damn it.” Grayson paced the small room, the phone pressed to his ear. “Camden was hoping they’d be able to stay under the radar in Virginia. But if Wallace was able to track them down there all the way from New York, it makes sense he’d reach out to someone in DC for the hit.”
“Right. The first call to Gibson was made from the pay phones prisoners are allowed to use. We checked the recording of the conversation, but it was cryptic. The other calls were made from Wallace’s cell phone.”
“So he made initial contact on the prison’s phone but was smart enough not to incriminate himself until he got a burner smuggled in?”
“That’s what we think,” Eli said. “And it’s not just Wallace making the calls. A woman we’ve ID’d as his girlfriend has been contacting Gibson too. Maybe if we lean on your guy Darryl, he’ll tell us something.”
“Unlikely,” Grayson said. “Gibson’s group is tight-lipped. He has them on a short leash, and they kno
w better than to cross him.”
“Even if they don’t tell us anything, we’ve got this. We’re arranging a sting on Deck Wallace and the girlfriend.”
“Have you warned Cam yet?”
“I was just about to call him.” Eli paused. “Unless you’d rather?”
“It might be best,” Grayson said. “News like this would be better coming from me.”
“Tell him I’ll follow up once I have more.”
“Will do.” Grayson hung up and immediately dialed his best friend.
“A revenge killing?” Camden asked after Grayson had updated him. “I guess if anyone would be up for it, it would be Deck Wallace. Autumn told me he was closer to Butch than any of the other club members.” Silent for a moment, he sounded tense when he asked, “Who’s working this?”
“Knowing Eli? The whole team.” In an effort to ease Camden’s worry as much as he could, he added, “Remember that case where Rob was posing as a hitman?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to do the same thing here, have Rob make contact with the girlfriend and pose as one of Gibson’s boys. We’ll get her on video ordering the hit, and then stage the hit with you and Autumn. There’ll be tons of evidence against Wallace once we show him the pictures and film his reaction. He’s bound to say something incriminating, and when he does, we’ll have him.”
When Camden didn’t respond for a minute, Grayson stopped his pacing. “Cam?”
“Still here. Just thinking.”
Grayson paused and gripped the back of his neck. Camden had to be freaked out, not to mention worried. Even though they weren’t positive yet a hit was in play, it was likely enough to cause concern. Remembering how protective he felt of Claire before he’d even met her, Grayson could only imagine how desperate Camden must be to protect his wife.
“They’ll be looking for you in Bonnersville, so why don’t you and Autumn go to DC?” he suggested. “You can stay at my place, in your old room. Hell, you still have the key. I’m stuck on this protective detail for now, so you’ll have the whole apartment to yourselves.”
