Senator Hartford made the introductions, "Mr. President, Ms. Hartford, gentlemen, this is Miguel Antonio, a guest this evening of the State Department. He's representing Mexico City and Juarez at the conference this weekend."
"I am honored to meet you President Nichols, Senator Hartford." Mike shook hands with each man then offered his hand to Graeme. "I am afraid I don't know you, sir."
"Graeme McAlister, Señor Antonio."
"Miguel, please."
He then turned, bowed slightly and kissed Amanda's hand. "Señorita."
He wondered what op Joe had assigned his brother. Mexico had become one of the most volatile countries due to corruption and the drug cartels. He knew Mike was one of the best agents around, but Juarez? His phone vibrated in his pocket and he excused himself to answer it. Maggie's name appeared on the caller ID.
"Maggie, is everything all right? Are you okay?" His heart thudded in his chest as he waited for her answer.
"It's good, I'm good," she said, her voice held his breath hostage as she laughed softly. "How was your trip?"
"Fast." He forced air in and out of his lungs, telling himself she sounded fine.
"Say, I went through some boxes this evening and I found –"
"Graeme, stop working and come on, we need to find our table." He frowned at Amanda and held up his forefinger to stay her interruption, but she tugged at his arm apparently oblivious to his irritation. "Come on, darling."
"I'm sorry, Maggie, can I call you back later?"
"Oh, sure. No problem."
"Thanks, it'll be a couple of hours, but I promise . . ." He pulled the phone away from his ear when he realized she'd disconnected the call. Damn. With no time to call her back, he followed Amanda into the dining hall, finding it difficult throughout the evening to concentrate on baked salmon, asparagus, tira misu or political conversations. His mind had already traveled over thirteen hundred miles back to McTiernan, Texas and a certain curvaceous redhead.
* * *
Maggie turned off her phone. No way would she wait for his call. Why had she been surprised to find him out on the town with a woman? She shouldn't have been. He was a man after all, and definitely not a monk. She'd been a first-hand witness to that fact. Why had she never even entertained the idea of another woman?
She lay down on the bed and tried to think of anything other than broad shoulders, muscled biceps and six-pack abs. Did her best to avoid thinking about his strong hand's tender touch or to imagine them reaching her most intimate places. Her body betrayed her strident wishes and, when she rolled over and groaned into her pillow, she knew this would be a long and sleepless night.
Chapter 12
Graeme exited the elevator onto the floor in the hotel where Mexico's envoy stayed while in Washington, D.C. Thoughts of his brothers fought for space with Maggie and the worry that her phone kept going to voice mail. He hadn't seen any of his foster siblings since before his injury. Now they were being brought together by one brother's death, his son and his widow.
His widow.
Maggie.
Remembrances of her assaulted him. Her fragrance, her soft, warm curves. Her eyes questioning and accusing. The way his body responded to her even now, the pressure behind his zipper near painful.
Voices from down the hall near the elevator drew his attention back to the present and his reason for being here. Gathering himself, he raised his hand to knock when the knob turned and Joe Webster opened the door. Upon entering the modest suite, Graeme found Hub Hartford sitting in a chair by a small couch. He remained standing but angled his stance to face Joe.
"Wouldn't it make more sense to meet at the office?"
"Yes, but since it's my call, I thought this meeting warranted discretion."
"O-kay." Graeme took a seat beside Joe on the couch across from the senator. The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes then, from the back of the suite, someone whistled. It'd been years but Graeme recognized the tune as the same one John Wayne whistled in the movie, The High and the Mighty. He stood and swiveled into Mike's bear hug.
"Thanks for not blowing my cover tonight at dinner."
"I've been at this a while, too, you know." The amount of protectiveness he still felt toward the younger man stunned him a little. "Mexico, huh?"
Mike grinned. "Si, I'm finally putting my heritage to good use. Eh, Amigo?"
Joe interrupted their reunion. "I hate to break this up, but we have to get Miguel back to his room before his companions get suspicious."
"Yeah, I'm supposed to be out smoking my cigar." Mike pulled a Cuban from his vest pocket and waggled it up and down between his thumb and fingers. "We have a little time yet."
"So why are we all here?"
"Per your suggestion, Graeme, we dug deeper into Riordon's past. Our man on the inside here discovered a link between him and the Camarone Cartel." Joe handed him a brown folder. "Looks to me like he started the relationship when he served in Afghanistan alongside Enrique Santiago."
Graeme flipped through the contents of the folder. "Who is this Santiago?"
"He's the nephew of Frank Camarone." Joe reached over to flip a page pointing to a specific paragraph. "He lives in an exclusive area of El Paso and owns several legitimate businesses in town."
"Do you think Riordon works for the cartel?"
"So far I haven't been able to connect the dots but, yes, I do."
"So the cartel wants their guy in the day-to-day operations of the business, I get that." Graeme sat back against the cushions, rubbed a spot above his brow in thought. Looking at Mike, he asked, "Riordon's in his early thirties, wouldn't they want someone older with more experience?"
"What I've figured out since I've been covert is Frank Camarone wants someone who can do the job, make money for the family, and have unquestionable loyalty. Age doesn't much come into play." Mike shrugged. "Look at me. I'm the Camarone's "in" with the Mexican government and I just turned thirty-two." He smirked at Graeme. "Thanks for the birthday wishes, by the way."
"Where'd you learn to be such a smartass?"
"From my brothers."
"Okay, okay, knock it off." Joe looked at both men and opened his jacket exposing his holstered Sig Sauer. "I won't hesitate to use this."
Mike laughed at the idle threat and punched Graeme in the shoulder. "Much as I'd like to keep busting your balls, bro, I got to go." He shook hands with the Senator and Joe. "I'll keep digging around and let you know what else I find."
Graeme stood and hugged his brother. "Take care down there. Remember if you get killed, Bridey'll shoot me."
"Well, that's something to consider." Mike grinned, then turned and, whistling, Miguel disappeared through the door to the adjoining suite.
Graeme almost flipped Mike off, but decided it'd be a waste of a good bird. When he rejoined the two men, he handed a thumb drive to Joe. "This is a copy. I have the original in a safe place."
"What about the computer?"
"Its contents are also on the drive."
"I thought you couldn't access the info."
"We got on, but like the card, the files are encrypted."
Joe passed the device over to Senator Hartford. "As soon as you can get this back to me, Hub, I'd appreciate it."
"Will do." Hartford headed to the door but stopped with his hand on the knob. "If you need anything when you get back to Texas, Graeme, don't hesitate to call me. I still owe Andrew a favor."
"Thank you, sir." Graeme caught the subtle acknowledgement between Joe and Hartford. Anyone else might've missed it, but this wasn't his first time in the shoot. He sat with Webster at the table that passed for a desk and accepted another folder.
Before he could open it and peruse the contents, Webster spoke, "Hub talked to Andrew yesterday."
"That's good, I haven't had time to mention our conversation the other day."
"They want to place an operative inside the day-to-day business at Southern Star. That folder contains background information put tog
ether for the airlines new pilot."
"What new –" He looked over the history for Graeme McAlister. His complete story from the day he moved in with the Bennings to his stint with the Army. All of the sensitive information for the Special Forces missions deliberately left out, of course, but it appeared he'd been living beyond his means and needed some quick money. "So how do I get my foot in the door?"
"I believe Andrew's going to help you out. It's good you have a close relationship with your foster family." Joe picked up his briefcase and zippered it closed. "When are you planning to fly back to Texas?"
"Tuesday at the latest, it all depends on the Senator."
"Look through those folders extensively and see me before you leave."
Half an hour later, Graeme entered his apartment and tossed his keys onto the bar. He placed his Sig in the safe, grabbed a beer and reclined on the couch. He appreciated Hartford using his contacts with the NSA to get the information unencrypted, but would the Senator still be inclined to help if he knew his daughter would be looking for a new political prospect? Probably. He'd known Hub Hartford since his first encounter with the Benning family. The Senator, Andrew and Nelson Widmore boasted a friendship forged during their military service in Viet Nam. Loyalty and a code of honor played a major part in their lives.
As the clock chimed midnight, Graeme fished his phone out of his pants pocket. He didn't know if Maggie had gone to bed or not, but he'd promised to call her back. When she didn't answer, he left a voice mail and ended the connection. Suddenly, his long day as well as last night's sleeplessness slammed into him as if he'd taken another roll in Maggie's old pickup. His last thought as he fell across the bed concerned the truck and what had caused the steering to go awry and why, when he'd stomped the brake pedal, did the truck immediately head to the right and plow through the bar ditch?
* * *
The next morning Graeme poured coffee into a cup with the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He microwaved the dark-roasted brew a few seconds while he waited for a response. The sigh followed by silence on the other end told him Elliott must've been asleep.
"What time is it?"
"Eight." He knew it was an hour earlier in Dallas, but Elliott had always been an early riser.
"Christ, that's seven on Sunday morning. What the hell's wrong with you?"
"Nothing, but I know what a hangover sounds like." He also knew the sounds of sheets rustling and a bed being quickly vacated. Since he wanted something else, he decided not to pry into the who and the why of Elliott's choices. "I hope the evening was worth the morning's cost."
"Maybe." Elliott cleared his throat. "Shared a few games of pool and tequila shots with Riordon and a woman I'd never seen before."
"Would you know her if you saw her again?"
"Clothed or Naked?"
"Shit, and you’re supposed to be the smart one."
"Did you disturb me for any particular reason?" Irritation filled Elliott's voice.
"Yeah, I have questions about the condition of Maggie's truck. I want Harlan to go over the mechanics and let us know what he finds."
Elliott's tone mellowed. "Drunk or sober, we're on the same page. I already had the truck towed to the firm's garage downtown. I should have a report by tomorrow afternoon or Tuesday."
"Good, depending on when I hear from the encryption specialists, I may be back to the ranch by then."
"Yep, gotta go."
Graeme heard a woman's voice before the call disconnected. He sure hoped Elliott knew what he was doing.
* * *
That afternoon, Maggie and Dinah entered the Dine-Inn. The sun's late afternoon rays pushed hard against the door as it closed behind them. Dinah strode straight into the kitchen while Maggie poured a glass of sweet tea. She made her way over to Ben Hammond who sat alone at a booth. Sliding into the red vinyl covered bench seat across from him, she grabbed two napkins from the holder, one for the glass, the other to blot the sweat from her face and neck.
For a second or two he didn't notice she'd even entered the café so intently did he follow Dinah's every move. Finally, she snagged his attention and smiled at his charming blush. "Tell me, Sheriff, when are you going to ask Dinah out on a date?"
"I've been busier and now she's working for Ms. Bridey. I just . . ." His voice trailed off as he caught up with Dinah again, hankering after her like a calf looking for his mama.
He had it bad and Maggie wondered how she could get the two of them together. Finally, though Dinah might consider her meddling, she said, "Ben?"
"Yes'm?"
"Di is staying at my house until after the barbecue's over. Why don't you come to dinner tomorrow night?" She sensed his hesitation and offered, "It'll be something quick and easy, there won't be any fuss."
"That'd be real nice. I could come around a little later than usual to check out your place. Make sure you're all locked up."
"Perfect. Say around seven, then?"
"I'll be there."
Dinah whooshed over and sat in the booth as Ben walked out the door, cell phone to his ear. "So where did Mr. Hot and Bothers Me have to be all of a sudden?"
"I'm assuming duty called." Maggie sipped her tea then blurted out, "He's coming to dinner tomorrow night." She wondered if she'd over-stepped, but Dinah hid a mega-watt grin behind her hand.
"Cool. I'll make sure I finish on time." She picked up Maggie's glass and emptied the contents. Setting it back on the table, she winked and said, "If you're ready, let's go on to the house. I need beauty sleep."
Maggie looked at her beautiful friend. To her knowledge, Dinah had never had a bad hair or makeup day in her life. "I'll check in with Harry then we can leave. You are looking a little rough around the edges."
After they'd driven home, made up the air bed for Dinah in the office, and locked the doors, Maggie made her way to her own room. She picked up her phone, reading for the umpteenth time that there was a voice mail message. Since she'd seen Graeme's number, she hadn't listened or even wanted to call him back. Now, laying here in the dark, the pull to hear his voice drew her to call him. He answered on the second ring.
"Maggie, I'm glad you called."
"You are?"
"Yes, I tried to call you back last night and this morning. You worried me when you didn't answer."
"Not necessary. I'm pretty busy and you had a date . . ." She didn't finish, couldn't finish what she wanted to say without it coming out snarky.
"It wasn't a date, Maggie," he said sounding as if he knew where she might be headed. "It was a political dinner I'd already promised to attend. Nothing more."
"Listen, you don't owe me any explanations. There's nothing between us but family." While her statement was true, she couldn't help but wonder why it bothered her to say it? "Anyway that's not why I called you."
"What's up?"
"I went through the box of Wyatt's things from his office late last night. Most everything related to the work crap everyone has, except for a newspaper clipping he'd stuck in a book."
"What was the book?"
"Nothing special, just a flight schedule, but the clipping was an obituary for Harley Jenkins."
"The pilot you told me about that flew for Southern Star with Wyatt."
"Yes."
"Does it say how she died?"
"In a single car accident on Interstate 635."
"Do me a favor, put the article in a safe place and don't mention it to anyone, okay?"
"I won't." She couldn't have said why, but suddenly she had the jitters. "Graeme, when are you coming back?"
"Probably Tuesday. In the meantime, stay safe and call Ben or Elliott if you need anything. Promise me."
"I promise. Good night."
"Night, darlin'."
She placed the phone on the nightstand and looked up to see Dinah standing in the doorway. "Di, can I get something for you?"
"You could make some racket, it's too darn quiet out here in the middle of nowhere." She walked into the
room and sat at the foot of the bed. "I heard you talking, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I was just on the phone. Sorry I bothered you."
"You didn't, but you were, like, the only sound for miles." Dinah scooted closer to the middle of the bed. "Sure you don't need an ear?"
"I'm sure. What are you up to?"
"Well it's too quiet to sleep, so do you want to play some Gin Rummy?"
Maggie decided it would be a good diversion from where her thoughts might stray, so she sat up, turned on the table lamp and picked up the first hand. Looking at her cards, then at Dinah, she grinned and laid them down. "Gin."
Di glared at her, dealt another hand and with a mock sinister look in her large brown eyes said, "Bring it."
* * *
Showered, shaved, dressed and ready to head out to the offices of INTERCEPT, Graeme made his way to the kitchen and found Amanda sitting on a bar stool. She was dressed to the nines in a three piece suit, heels and her long blonde hair twisted up with a couple of doodads holding it in place. There were two cups of Starbuck's coffee and Danish in a to-go tray in front of her, along with her key to his apartment.
"Amanda, what're you doing? I told you Saturday night I'm not your guy."
"I thought it was worth another shot."
"No, I'm . . . no," he insisted, unwilling to share his rekindled feelings for Maggie with anyone. "You have your pick of any of the men in Washington, D.C. Go find one."
"None are as good as you when it comes to available candidates."
"You're wasting your charms as well as your time because, as I said last night, I'm done with politics."
"Blame me for trying?"
He shook his head at her and smiled as he picked up his ringing phone. When he read the caller ID, he said, "Excuse me while I take this?"
Out on the balcony, he answered, "Joe, what've you got?"
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 40
