Liam stretched his neck and tried to relax. Firing Jared had been a certain kind of stress-reliever. It wasn’t that Jared had released dirt-technically, Liam had given him permission to do it. It was that Jared hadn’t used any judgment when he’d fired the loaded gun that George Clayton had handed him.
Liam understood now. Don’t go after a Hightower. Or anyone connected with them. Or anyone that they admire, like Troy. Because George Clayton would cut a bitch.
Liam flexed his right hand. He’d smacked Dimitri down for taking a shot at Spencer. He wanted a similar chance with Clayton.
Loose ends. One at a time, Connelly.
…
Roberta was easy to work with. An admirer of Spencer personally and professionally, she agreed readily to help Liam. Too readily, he realized, as he handed over the season tickets in OPM’s deluxe suite at Cowboys’ Stadium. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have an influential Dallas press insider on his side, for a change.
Anything that came up regarding Spencer Hightower or his clients and Roberta had him on speed dial. Any future stories about Dimitri Korolov and Spencer? Roberta assured him that, unless it was personally authorized by Spencer, the stories were dead on arrival. It was a deal.
It took a few more days to track Dimitri Korolov down. After all, Russian millionaires had all sorts of ways they could travel the globe these days, even through outer space. Still, Korolov had a business to run, and Liam heard of a meeting in New York. Dimitri’s company was searching for a spokesperson and Liam had just the candidate.
Liam let the professionals do the talking. Korolov’s stores had hip clothing for young adults. What they needed was the number one Draft pick in a hot ad campaign featuring lots of wet clothes and washboard abs.
Troy Duncan was available, and Dimitri was interested.
Liam entered the room and everyone else left, leaving Liam and Dimitri. Alone.
Dimitri’s eyes sharpened. “You. I remember you.”
Liam offered his hand. “Liam Connelly. I’m Troy Duncan’s agent.”
“What is this about?” Dimitri’s accent grew noticeably thicker.
Liam motioned toward the proposals left on the conference table. “Troy Duncan. He’s the ideal spokesperson for your stores.”
“What is this really about? You punched me.”
“You hit a lady. You deserved it.” Dimitri didn’t argue that point. Truth be told, Liam was a little disappointed. He wouldn’t mind taking another punch at the smug Russian.
“Here’s the deal, Dimitri. You get Troy Duncan for very good contract terms. And in exchange, you don’t speak about Spencer Hightower again. To anyone.”
Dimitri’s expression was stoic, calculating. “He said he was with immigration.”
Clayton. “He wasn’t.” And Liam had a suspicion Dimitri knew that. But Clayton wasn’t above threatening immigration and he wasn’t above a few dirty moves of his own. “If you talk about what happened that night-to anyone-Troy’s record will be released. Then your company will have to deal with the fall out of a disgraced spokesman, without Spencer Hightower to help you recover this time.”
“But if I keep quiet, I get amazing publicity.”
Liam smirked. “It’s a good deal. I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Dimitri sneered. “Does your client know he has such a terrible agent who will sell him out so easily?”
Liam shrugged. “Do we have an agreement?”
Dimitri’s suspicion remained. “What is in Troy’s record?”
“Something that Spencer Hightower was involved with.” Liam raised an eyebrow. Spencer wasn’t the only one who could bluff. “I believe you know that she only handles the most difficult issues. But I can tell you if you really want to know.”
Dimitri regarded the prepared poster, with the suggested advertisement images of a wet, shirtless Troy on some kind of farm truck, guaranteed to make teen girls spend twenty bucks on a T-shirt. “No. I do not care.”
“Then we have a deal.”
…
Liam left New York for Washington, D.C. before returning to Dallas.
The Senate was in session.
It wasn’t hard to get an appointment with the Senator—not for the agent of Troy Duncan, the newest San Antonio Renegade and all-around future American hero.
As he had been when Liam had met him before, Hayes Hightower was distinguished and collected, jovial in an official sort of way. There was a strong resemblance between Hayes and his daughter. Both were tall and carried themselves with a natural authority, and they had the same blue eyes that seemed to pierce and assess each situation with uncanny accuracy.
“Thank you for seeing me, Senator Hightower.” Liam was respectful even if he wasn’t all that impressed with the old, worn office.
“Of course.” Hayes waved at the couch. “Please sit.” The Senator sat across from him in a small, antique chair, with an upright wooden back. Liam, in contrast, sat deep into the overstuffed chintz, sinking lower than the Senator as soon as the goose down settled. It’s a trap, Connelly.
It was a strange notion, and Liam tried to ignore it when Hayes was smooth and genial and asked Liam how he could help him. Liam chose his words with care. “I met with your chief of staff in New York.”
Hayes’ smooth charm didn’t falter. “Yes, he mentioned he had quite an experience at the Draft.”
Liam nodded. “I’m sure. Football is very different from politics. I guess Clayton thinks they’re similar.”
Hayes paused in his absentminded brushing of his sleeve. “Oh? How is that?”
“In football, we don’t keep trying to score after the referee has blown the whistle. Your man didn’t follow those rules.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Clayton leaked information about Dalynn Kay’s strategist after the paternity test came back negative. I can’t think of any reason for him to do that except to discredit her. To bury the bodies.”
Hayes lifted his chin. “I see.”
“Do you?” Liam scratched his two-day beard and made a face. “See, I don’t. I’m still kind of pissed about it.”
A thoughtful smile played on Hayes’ lips. “I noticed how you looked at my daughter at the Foundation dinner, Mr. Connelly.”
Liam settled back into the sofa, hanging an arm on the back, crossing his legs at the knee. “What did you see?”
“I saw a man infatuated with a beautiful woman.”
Liam held up a palm. “You saw a man in love with a beautiful woman. A man who doesn’t like that someone who’s supposed to be on her father’s side-if not her side-has tried to damage her reputation.”
“Why are you here, Mr. Connelly? Because if you knew my daughter well, you’d know that she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need her father-or her boyfriend-to do her dirty work.”
“Absolutely,” Liam agreed. “She did take care of it. But I’m tying up a few loose ends. I don’t like this hanging out there. Especially from a man like George Clayton, a man who, I’m betting, has a few items of dirty laundry hidden somewhere, especially after sixteen years of working in national electoral politics.”
Liam could tell when he hit a nerve. It was brief, and maybe it would only be visible to someone who had spent years on the football field, watching for a telltale flick of the eyes, or a subtle tensing of a wrist muscle.
Hayes hadn’t liked what he’d heard.
“What are you suggesting?” The Senator’s tone grew both bored and impatient, perfected after thirty years of knowing when to show lobbyists the door.
“George Clayton’s sabbatical.”
Hayes showed Liam a quick flash of teeth. “George is indispensable to a good campaign.”
“That’s why you’re going to suggest he volunteer his time to JT Buchanan’s campaign. It’ll reflect well on you, get George some grassroots experience in a state with a heck of a lot of electoral votes. And he’ll probably fucking hate it.”
Liam knew that George missed no such thing. If Hayes Hightower sent George Clayton to JT’s campaign, it had as much to do with Texas’ support for Hightower in the presidential primary. But that’s how Liam had set this up. It was a gamble for Hightower. One with a high payoff and low risk. Which was why Hayes still looked skeptical even as Liam stood.
Hayes didn’t understand, Liam realized. But Liam wasn’t going to explain. George needed to be punished, and JT got a campaign manager. Liam handed over a small, folded piece of card stock. “Make sure George is there. It’s JT’s first big fundraiser. He’ll need his staff around him.”
Liam shook Hayes’ hand. Liam was in love with the man’s daughter, even if he’d never be sure that Hayes hadn’t told Clayton to do whatever necessary to protect Troy. But it wasn’t like Spencer couldn’t take care of herself. Or that Liam didn’t have her back.
Liam left the Senator’s office with a new spring in his step. Loose ends were coming together nicely. Now if he could just get Spencer to answer his messages…
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Spencer crossed her arms and gave the two women in her apartment her best “Don’t mess with Texas women” glare. Nora and Rainey were undeterred. In fact, Nora had the nerve to flip her long red hair back, her chin tilted up in her best over-confident pageant queen way. Spencer arched an eyebrow and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. They wouldn’t win. Not tonight.
“He’s your best friend,” Nora reminded her.
“Not really. We’ve grown apart.”
Rainey threw up her hands. “You can’t keep hiding out forever.”
“Who’s hiding?” Spencer demanded, her fingers pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy hiding,” Nora pointed out.
“I just went on a business trip,” Spencer defended.
“For something that could have been taken care of over the phone,” Rainey said. “You flew to Los Angeles for a two minute conversation.”
“It’s called a face-to-face meeting for a reason,” Spencer informed them.
“See, I thought that was a euphemism for, you know.” Nora waved a hand in front of her face. “You know.”
Spencer’s already chilly countenance grew haughtier. “You thought I had a face lift?”
“You do look great,” Rainey murmured.
“Well-rested,” Nora agreed. “It’s probably all the sleeping you’ve been doing.”
Spencer’s mouth dropped, ready to snap back that she hadn’t been sleeping. At all. But that would prove their point. Or something. She didn’t want to go to JT’s fundraiser at the White Rock Belle mansion. Because it was very likely JT’s old law school roommate would be there.
The man who had stopped calling her.
The man who’d stabbed her in the back.
Whatever. She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to talk to him. “I’m not going,” she insisted, pausing only a second before she pulled out her trump card. “It’s too political for a Hightower to openly support a candidate.”
Nora screwed up her adorable button nose. “Really? I don’t think your dad minds. Especially because of George and all.”
Spencer froze. “What?”
“George.”
“Clayton?” Spencer asked.
“George Clayton,” Nora repeated.
“What about George Clayton?” Spencer was exasperated.
“He’s working for JT.”
Spencer shook her head like her ears had water in them. “George Clayton?”
“That’s his name, right? I always get names wrong.” Nora asked Rainey.
“George Clayton works for Hayes Hightower,” Spencer corrected.
“That’s your dad,” Rainey added, helpfully.
“You’re not helping,” Spencer griped at Rainey.
Nora shook her head. “George is on sabbatical from your dad. So he came down here to work for JT. JT’s psyched. He said it was a really good sign of the party’s faith in…” Nora stopped as Spencer stalked out of the room. “Was it something I said?”
“I’m going!” Spencer shouted from her bedroom.
Spencer stuck her head out of the bedroom, clad only in her bra and jeans. “I should be working with JT, not George.”
Rainey looked at Nora. “What’s wrong with George?”
Nora shrugged. “Maybe because he’s evil?”
“Not evil,” Spencer pointed out. “But he’s no angel.”
In five short minutes, Spencer was ready to leave the house in a simple black dress, accented with a brightly colored scarf. It was work appropriate, yet she would blend in the background of any political fundraiser. Spencer grabbed her keys on the way to Nora’s car, praying it wasn’t too late. After all, there was a high probability that George could eat JT alive, being the relentless predator that he was.
And, given all she knew about George’s obsessive political ambitions, Spencer also knew, down to her bones, that “sabbatical” was not in the man’s vocabulary. George was up to something. And she was going to find out what it was.
…
The JT Buchanan for Attorney General fundraiser appeared to be a smashing success. Next stop…margarita machine. Spencer wondered if she could get away with two. It was a Cinco de Mayo party. She wasn’t here officially, and she needed liquid courage.
Keeping herself to one margarita for now, she soon found the man of the hour himself. JT wrapped her in a familiar, warm hug when he saw her. “I didn’t think you would make it,” he whispered into her ear.
She gave him an extra squeeze. “I wouldn’t miss it.” There was a cough behind her. Rainey. Spencer wished she was in elbow range, but reaching behind her, slapping wildly, wasn’t very classy.
“How are things?” Spencer asked as she subtly directed JT away from the earshot of others.
JT knew what she meant. “Good, I think. Thanks for letting Nora spend so much time on the campaign. The best volunteer I have. And then your dad sending George.” JT grinned. “It’s good to have the Hightowers on my side.”
Spencer assessed the room, mentally taking attendance of the donors and supporters. An old habit.
“He’s not here.” JT’s voice startled her back from wondering what Mrs. Collins’ net worth was.
“Who?” Spencer was annoyed that two men jumped in her head. As if one wasn’t bad enough.
“Liam,” JT answered, as though he believed she was just playing when she’d asked. “He’s a mess.”
Spencer pulled back from JT a little. “I thought you were taking my side.”
JT leveled her in a way only someone who’d known her since kindergarten could. “I didn’t think you’d care about sides.”
“It’s always about sides,” Spencer sniffed, but as she repeated the old, rehashed line, she wondered.
Was it?
Because it didn’t feel like there were sides. Not anymore.
She wasn’t sure when it had happened. When the boundaries had melted, the sides had merged, and she had come out looking like the loser.
Like they were both losers. Never in her life had she been part of a losing situation.
JT hugged Spencer with a touch that was friendly and comforting. “You love him,” he said under his breath.
Spencer nodded into JT’s shirt, careful about makeup on the candidate’s clothes. That was all he needed. She pulled away at that reminder.
“He hurt you,” JT said, glancing around the room and waving back automatically at someone who waved at him. Spencer noticed the action. It was something she did, too. JT was a politician now.
“He betrayed me.” With those words, the dull, sad ache rose in her chest again. Loser. She had lost something huge and important when she pushed Liam out of her life. She waited for JT
to say something supportive, but he looked confused for a minute, then he shrugged whatever it was off.
Spencer wanted to shrug it off, too. The pain, the loss, the heartbreak. She could get over it. After all, she had a new mission. Getting JT elected to statewide office.
“So, George Clayton is on your staff.” She thought she was successful in getting that out with little to no animosity or suspicion in her voice. By the amusement in JT’s eyes, she wasn’t sure she had been.
“Yeah. Do I have you to thank for that?”
Spencer shook her head. “I have no clue about it.”
“We’re having a little meeting in a few minutes. You want in?” he asked, as though he already knew her answer.
“Sure. I just want to help.”
And catch George at whatever he’s doing.
The smoking room was as Spencer remembered it, exactly as the Mansion had kept it for the past fifty years. On entering, her first memory was not of a bad date or a shiner. She thought of Liam and then promptly put that away in a box.
George waited for JT, and it was clear that he hadn’t expected her. It was nice that she could surprise George. He didn’t know everything.
“Hello George.”
“Spencer.” George cocked his head. “Lovely to see you.”
Lying liar, Spencer thought. She knew him. He was ticked that she was there. Which was…unusual. George didn’t harbor any great amount of affection for her. It wasn’t his job, after all, to become attached to the Senator’s family. But he had never been angry to see her.
He was angry tonight.
JT clapped his hands. “Just wanted to go over the schedule for tonight.” He angled his head at Spencer. “Spencer has generously offered her assistance.”
“She can handle press.” George cut off JT’s last word.
Spencer turned to JT. “I understood Nora was helping with PR. If she’s got that, there’s no reason…”
“Nora doesn’t have the Dallas TV stations in her pocket, does she?” George cut her off.
Spencer blinked at George’s curt tone. “I do have good relationships with a few reporters…”
“A few bazillionaires, a few coke heads, a few football players… You have them all wrapped around your little finger.”
Know When to Hold Him Page 25
