At any other time, she would have wanted to explore and admire the wonderful memorial, but not tonight. Tonight she had only one thing on her mind, and that was getting through this meeting with Richard Stockton.
And yes, she could see him too now, strolling toward her. A handsome man, elegantly attired in a fitted suit, shirt, and tie, his hair gleaming golden in the last rays of the day’s sun. He moved unhurriedly, looking supremely confident as he smilingly acknowledged the greetings of several tourists as they recognized him as being Senator Stockton’s son.
Luckily, it was the time of day when a lot of tourists had gone off in search of dinner, and the young couples hadn’t yet started to arrive for a late-night romantic tryst.
Looking at Richard Stockton now, it didn’t seem possible that this urbane and confident man could be the same one who had shot and killed Michael. The same man who was responsible for having killed her father.
Could she be wrong about him? Had she made a mistake in picking him out?
Callie straightened her spine. No, of course she wasn’t wrong. Why else would Richard Stockton have agreed to meet her if he wasn’t guilty?
He came to a halt looking down at her, the shadows of the sun behind him preventing her from seeing the expression on his face. Or those eyes that had looked at her in cold recognition the night before. “Miss Morgan,” he spoke lightly. “We last met at the Hammond Gallery, I believe?”
Callie had no idea what game he was playing, but listening to his voice again had totally eliminated any lingering doubts she might have that she had pointed her finger at the wrong man. This was definitely the same voice and the same man who had whispered those threats in her ear all those months ago.
She brushed the dust from her jeans as she slowly stood. “Mr. Stockton.”
He eyed her mockingly. “Shall we walk up the steps while we talk, and perhaps take a look at the monument?” The firm hold he had of her arm as he began to ascend the steps said he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “You really can’t visit Washington, DC, without seeing Lincoln’s memorial.”
“I’m not visiting Washington, I came here to look for my father.” Even through her clothing, his touch made Callie’s skin crawl, and she didn’t need Lijah’s growled warning of “I don’t have a clear shot if you stand too close to him” through the earpiece to attempt to free herself. “Let go of my arm, or I’ll start screaming.”
Stockton gave her a sideways glance between long thick blond lashes. “You seem a little upset, Miss Morgan?”
She wrenched her arm free and stepped away from him. “Of course I’m upset! You killed Michael Hammond and now my father too!” Her voice broke slightly on the latter, that loss so raw it still didn’t seem quite real.
He gave a quizzical smile. “I have to admit to being slightly puzzled as to why you would possibly think I might have done such a thing?”
“Possibly because I know you for the murdering bastard you really are?” she challenged with saccharine sweetness.
He gave a calm shake of his head. “I think you’re suffering from delusions, Miss Morgan. When I saw you at the White House last night, I vaguely recalled meeting you at the Hammond Gallery earlier this year, an evening that certainly ended in tragedy, and incidentally the only reason I agreed to this meeting today. But I’m slightly…disturbed by these wild accusations you’re now making. Have you tried seeking the help of a doctor, or possibly a psychiatrist? It’s obvious you’re suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress, possibly as a result of Mr. Hammond’s death that evening?”
“The bastard knows you’re wired and that we’re listening and recording the conversation,” Lijah muttered disgustedly.
Callie didn’t give a damn what this man knew. She would get him to confess, if it was the last thing she did. And it quite possibly might be. “I’m not the one who needs psychiatric help. You are,” she scoffed. “What makes you behave this way, I wonder.” She looked him critically up and down. “A form of penis envy, maybe? Because your Daddy will always be the Big Ben of penises and you’ll only ever be in his shadow and known as the Puny Little Wiener?”
She heard a splutter of laughter over the earpiece followed by Lijah’s sharp bark of “Maintain silence!”
She had no idea where Lijah and his men were situated, and she had no intention of giving away their presence by looking. But that show of humor from one of Lijah’s men was somehow reassuring.
Richard Stockton’s eyes had frosted to that cold and merciless blue, even if the charming smile remained on his lips for anyone who might be watching them. “My father is a great man and a friend of the president of the United States. He’s a father to be proud of.”
“As was my own father,” Callie bit out between clenched teeth. “And I wonder how proud your father is going to be of you once he knows the truth?”
“The truth about what?” He was once again mockingly confident. “I’m Richard Stockton, son of Senator Stockton, and you’re obviously a mentally disturbed young woman. No doubt as a result of your having been present during your boyfriend’s murder six months ago. And did you say your father had also died recently?”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You know he did, because you killed him. And no one else but the police knew I was also at the gallery when Michael died. Except, of course, the person who murdered him in cold blood.”
“Good girl, Callie,” Lijah murmured approvingly.
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Morgan.” Stockton gave a pitying shake of his head. “I’m sorry for your loss, of course, but I really don’t see how I can help you?”
Her chin rose. “I didn’t come here alone.”
“Neither did I,” he assured too softly to be picked up on the listening device strapped to her back. “In fact, I think right about now, my men will be quietly and efficiently eliminating yours.”
Callie gave a panicked look around the temple, where she imagined Lijah and his men must be hiding to watch the exchange.
“Concentrate, Callie.” Hearing the softness of Lijah’s voice in her ear again put an instant stop to her panic. “Whatever he’s saying to you, remember we’re here, and we have your back.”
She gave a barely perceptible nod—not the signal for Lijah to shoot, thank goodness—before turning back to Richard Stockton. “I don’t think so,” she came back scornfully. “I’m still curious as to why you did it—still do it? The robberies, the killing? Does it give you some sort of cheap thrill? A sexual high? What’s the problem, Richard?” She deliberately used his first name. “Are you having trouble getting it up nowadays?”
“How dare you!” A slight crack appeared in that smoothly confident veneer.
“Hit a nerve, did I?” she continued to taunt. “Is the big shadow Daddy casts making you impotent?” She gave a shrug as she saw the dangerous glitter in his eyes. “Must be difficult always knowing you’ll be second best,” she continued conversationally. “Your father seems to have to do everything else for you, so perhaps he might be willing to fuck your wife for you too if you ask him nicely?”
He half raised his hand as if to strike her, before taking a deep breath and bringing his fury back under control. “I’m afraid you really are very sick, Miss Morgan.” His confident smile now had a definite edge.
“Maybe he’s already fucking her?” Callie mused. “She is rather beautiful, and powerful men like your father tend to have high libidos. Might as well keep it in the family, and after forty years of marriage, your mother probably isn’t all that interested nowadays, so—”
“Leave my mother out of this!” Stockton’s fingers took a tight and bruising grip on her arm.
“Oedipus complex much?” She ignored Lijah’s quietly growled “Don’t go too far, Callie.” “Wishing you could take Daddy’s place in their bed?” She gave a mocking chuckle. “How funny!” She was openly laughing at him now. “Daddy fucks your wife, and you want to fuck your own mother!”
She arched a derisive brow. “I thought we had just established you don’t have the balls—” Callie broke off with a gasp as his hand moved to her throat, cutting off her air supply.
“I have the balls to snap your neck and end your life right here and now if I choose!” His hand tightened about her throat as his face came close to hers.
His breath was hot against her cheeks, his close proximity allowing Callie to see the full extent of the anger now gleaming fanatically in his eyes. A dangerous, insane anger she was responsible for slowly and deliberately tipping over the edge of reason.
“Is your boyfriend watching us?” he challenged her. “The Most Honorable Marquess of Stanford? Otherwise known as Lijah Smith! Are you watching and listening, Smith?” he added challengingly. “If so, this is for you!” His mouth came crashing down on Callie’s.
The nausea rose in Callie’s throat at the same time as Richard Stockton’s teeth bit down painfully on her bottom lip, so hard Callie felt and then tasted the metallic flow of blood into her mouth.
“Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill the bastard now!” Lijah’s voice rasped harshly over Callie’s earpiece.
No!
Obscene as this was to her, Callie wanted Richard Stockton to suffer, slowly, for what he’d done, and not be taken out by a merciful bullet from Lijah’s gun.
“Callie’s too close for a clean shot!” Jonas’s voice instantly warned.
Stockton finally wrenched his mouth away from hers to look down sneeringly into her pale face. “Was that man enough for you?”
Callie gave him a pitying glance. “There was nothing manly about shooting Michael when he was tied up and helpless. There was nothing manly about keeping my father a prisoner after you shot him.”
“You just never know when to stop, do you?” he bit out in disgust.
“Telling the truth about you? No, and I’ll never stop,” she assured him. “Not now. Not ever. I’ll tell anyone who wants to listen exactly who and what you are. I’ll never go away. Never. And even if people don’t believe me at first, eventually some of the mud will begin to stick. I wonder how Mummy and Daddy will feel when your future career in politics comes crashing down about your ears? Do you think they’ll continue to support you, claim you as their son, or for the sake of your father’s career, and his friendship with the president will they want to distance themselves from you and the stories circulating about you?”
“Jesus, Callie, stop!” Lijah muttered in her ear.
She couldn’t stop, not now. She needed this man to admit what he had done, and she no longer cared whether she lived long enough to see him suffer for it.
Stockton gave a weary shake of his head. “All you had to do was walk away six months ago and keep your mouth shut.”
“For my sins, I did keep my mouth shut—and you killed my father anyway!”
“Because he came snooping around asking questions.”
“So you admit you did kill him?”
He gave an unconcerned shrug. “It really doesn’t matter now, not when your boyfriend and associates will all soon be dead. I’ll then destroy the recording they’re no doubt making of this conversation.”
“Did you or did you not have my father killed?” Callie pressed fiercely.
“I didn’t even realize he was your father to start with. His passport said he was Paul Mitchell. Even after three days of my men working on him, he refused to tell us the truth.” His mouth turned back in a sneer. “But I found out who he was anyway, had one of my security detail look into who and what he was. I didn’t tell the idiot why I wanted to know, of course, just said it was a matter of national security. Amazing how that phrase can open so many doors to so much information.”
“I want you to say it!” Callie persisted forcefully. “Admit that you killed my father!”
He gave an unconcerned shrug. “I did warn you not to tell anyone what happened that night at the gallery, didn’t I? Told you I would kill your whole family and then start on your friends if you told anyone. I should just have killed you that night, along with your boyfriend,” he added disgustedly. “It would have saved me a whole lot of trouble.”
How could this man talk so calmly, so dismissively of taking Michael’s and her father’s lives? Because he really is insane, came the immediate answer.
It was said power corrupts, and it would seem that the son of one of the most powerful men in the United States, godson of the most powerful man in the United States, was totally corrupt, mentally as well as morally.
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Callie could barely talk now, her throat was so clogged with emotion.
“I’d never killed a woman before. At the time, I thought I was being merciful. After all, you hadn’t seen me.” Stockton gave another shrug. “A mistake on my part. I knew something was wrong when the man who turned out to be your father arrived in Washington a week ago, poking and prying and asking too many questions. It was far too much of a coincidence when you turned up at the White House last night too. I knew when you looked at me that you’d recognized me. Having met you again, seen the fire in you, I can’t help thinking it might be fun to fuck you before you die.” He studied her admiringly.
Callie recoiled from the lust she could see burning in his eyes. “You disgust me!”
“It isn’t necessary for you to like me,” Stockton scoffed. “In fact, I think I would prefer it if you fought a little.”
Before leaving the house earlier, Callie had taken Lijah’s small pistol and hidden it in her boot. Just in case, she had assured herself.
She had no doubt now that she would use it if or when the time and opportunity came. “Is that the only way you can get it up nowadays? By hurting a woman?”
His mouth thinned. “I’m going to enjoy strangling you as I fuck you. You might even come before you die. I’ve heard that asphyxiation creates an amazing sexual high.” He gave a taunting laugh.
“Okay, that’s enough!”
Callie stumbled as Richard Stockton was pulled roughly away from her by a blazingly furious Lijah, the other man falling down like a felled tree after Lijah’s fist swung up and hit him squarely on the jaw.
“Take Miss Morgan and leave with your men, Mr. Smith. You may safely leave me to deal with this situation from now on.”
Callie gave a gasp of recognition as she looked past Lijah and saw Senator Stockton standing alone just feet away, his face tinged with gray. A small crowd of tourists was being held out of hearing distance by several men in dark glasses and suits, along with the four men from Grayson Security.
Had the senator been here all the time? Had he been listening as she used those foul taunts to goad Richard Stockton into the anger she’d hoped would break through his veneer of arrogant confidence and reveal the murderer he truly was?
The sorrow and disgust on the senator’s face as he looked down at his son said that he had.
Lijah was breathing hard, fists still clenched at his sides as he stood over the unconscious man and fought against the urge to kill him with his bare hands.
For having terrified Callie into silence all these months with his threats.
For murdering two men that he knew of, one of them like a father to him.
But most of all for daring to touch Callie.
He wanted to kill the bastard. Rip him apart one limb at a time. For touching Callie. For kissing Callie. For daring to threaten her.
“Lijah?”
Callie’s voice, her hand placed gently on his arm, pulled him back from the edge of the murderous anger that would make him no better than the man lying on the ground.
“He isn’t worth it,” she cajoled softly.
Lijah turned narrowed eyes on the senator. “You got the rest of them?”
“Already in police custody,” the older man confirmed.
Lijah look
ed down at Richard Stockton. “This piece of garbage goes away, and he stays away.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” the older man confirmed gruffly. “I give you my word on it. Everything you told me—everything you said this morning, it all checked out,” he acknowledged shakily. “Richard’s hunting lodge where he had that poor man held prisoner. His house in Texas had a hidden room in the basement where he kept the things he’s stolen.” He closed his eyes briefly before continuing. “I promise you that everything will be returned to its rightful owners, and that—that Richard will be dealt with appropriately.”
“I want him locked up and the key thrown away,” Lijah insisted. “Anything less, and I have enough evidence to finish him myself.”
“You have my word,” the senator said again heavily.
Lijah continued to look at the older man through narrowed lids for several long seconds, before giving an abrupt nod. “Good enough.” He turned back to Callie. “Let’s go home, hmm?”
Callie had no idea if by home Lijah meant England or Lucien Wynter’s estate.
It didn’t really matter which, as long as she was with Lijah.
“I paid the senator a call at his office this morning and told him everything, and advised that he have all of his son’s properties thoroughly searched,” Lijah revealed grimly as he and Callie sat together in the sitting room at Lucien Wynter’s Washington home.
Callie had been white-faced and on the edge of collapse by the time they arrived back at the house, Lijah quickly dismissing his men before taking Callie inside and pouring them both a large brandy.
“I also made a call to the private number he gave me once I knew the meeting place and time,” he continued softly. “The senator then arranged for his own private security detail to deal with his son’s thugs, and in exchange I provided him with an earpiece so he could listen in on your conversation with his son.”
Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) Page 18
