by Taylor Lee
His overt taunt galvanized her. She freed her hand from his and ran her eyes up and down his body. With a saucy glance over her shoulder, she murmured, “Sure you are up to it, Warrior Man?”
Rafe grinned at her and winked.
“Not a chance, Princess. You’re safe. I know when I’m out of my league.”
Nicki was surprised at the flash of disappointment she felt at his quick disavowal of interest, but didn’t have time to lick her wound, because Rafe had turned to introduce her to the Senator, still busily mopping up his wine.
Rafe smiled at him through hooded eyes. He’d known Senator Robert Chambers for years—particularly his duplicitous behind-the-scenes dealings. Chambers presented himself as a thoughtful avowed liberal whose primary concern was the poor and unfortunate—easier to do when you’d bought your Senate seat with monies some long-dead ancestors had made. And when you hadn’t known a moment of want in a life filled with excess. Rafe thought with a sneer, ‘limousine liberal’ had found its poster boy.
Knowing the Senator’s reputation with women—the more the better, preferably at the same time—Rafe knew it wouldn’t be long before he approached Nicki. Not about to let the pretentious prick off easy, he nodded at the spill on the table and said with a pleasant smile, “Not to worry, Senator. Nicki has that effect on men. You’re not the first grown man who’s been reduced to speechlessness by my lovely associate, Nicki Powers. Or the first that’s made a mess in his eagerness to meet her.”
Turning to Nicki, he said, “Nicki, let me introduce you.” He nodded from one to the other. “Nicki Powers. Senator Robert Chambers.”
He turned back to Nicki. “Go easy on him, Nicki. He doesn’t have much experience dealing with gorgeous women except for the lovely Mrs. Chambers, of course.”
The Senator had the decency to blush and then as quickly frowned telegraphing he hadn’t missed Rafe’s jab.
Nicki threw Rafe a puzzled gaze, surprised by his thinly veiled contempt, then put out her hand.
“Good evening, Senator Chambers. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Having recovered from his discomfiture, the Senator showered her with an ingratiating smile. He grasped her hand and lightly ran his thumb over her palm.
“No, Miss Powers, the pleasure is mine. Please forgive my clumsiness. Our host is correct. It is not often that I am confronted by a virtual vision of a young woman. But then I presume you are accustomed to men making fools of themselves over you. Will you forgive my inelegance?”
Clearly expecting her to demur, the Senator’s frown deepened when Nicki pointedly disengaged from his grip, “Please don’t apologize, Senator. And, yes, sir, your response is not unusual. It’s been known to happen…frequently.”
Rafe guffawed, signaling again his disdain for the Senator.
The senator was saved further embarrassment by his aide rushing in with two of Rafe’s servants carrying fresh linens for the table. Rafe motioned to the Senator and Nicki to step back as Tony and Sarah stripped the table and quickly reset it.
Rafe took command of the situation. He nodded to the Senator silently indicating he should be seated. He smiled down at Nicki then pulled out her chair and stepped back as she sat down. Within minutes, the tension in the room evaporated as Rafe motioned to the servants to begin serving the food and more wine. Soon the layered conversation so typical of meetings of this kind ricocheted around the table.
The Senator quickly recovered his composure. Rafe watched with grudging admiration as Chambers effortlessly wrapped himself in the cloak of Charming Gentleman. And why not? Charm came easy to men like Chambers. The man had marched a predetermined path that likely began in a sheltered nursery with gold-plated nannies. Moving on to elite boarding schools, Ivy League colleges and law school, he fulfilled his noblesse oblige requisites and spent a year working with the poor. He’d shanghaied a two-term stint in the U.S. House of Representatives, then with more money than even the most ambitious pols knew existed he bought a U.S Senate seat four short years ago. The Senate seat he now planned to parlay into the Presidency. As the ultimate schmoozer turned his klieg lights on Nicki, Rafe was surprised at the virulent antipathy he felt toward the man. Watching him openly lusting over Nicki, Rafe suppressed the urge to growl. What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, nothing like an alpha dog protecting his territory. He quickly reminded himself, it wasn’t his territory he was protecting, it was Yuri’s.
He didn’t need to worry. Nicki clearly didn’t have trouble identifying pretentious assholes. In answer to a series of probing questions about her childhood, Nicki was curt.
“As I explained, my mother died when I was born. My father travels a great deal and he wanted me to have as normal a life as possible. Fortunately my aunt and uncle were pleased to have a daughter and I was lucky to have them as surrogate parents. And you might be surprised, Senator Chambers: Just as some of the people who live in Washington DC or New York City are interesting and worth knowing, so are the citizens of Idaho.”
As though he was sincerely interested in her responses and not counting the minutes until he was fucking her, Senator Chambers raised a protesting hand.
“Please, my dear, call me Bob. But only if you’ll permit me to call you Nicki.
At Nicki’s slight nod, he continued.
“I still find it hard to believe, Nicki, that a girl like you grew up in a small western town. In Idaho of all places. How did you survive? What did you do for excitement?” He gazed pointedly at her breasts and licked his pudgy lips. “Although you strike me as a girl who could make any situation exciting.”
Nicki’s didn’t hide her distaste. Eyeing him coolly, her lips curled in a tight smile.
“Well, Bob.” Her emphasis on his name was pronounced. “I guess it all depends on how you define excitement. For me excitement was four hours a day at the shooting range, followed by six hours of daily mixed martial arts practice. Then, of course, there was high altitude survival training and the like.” She added with a saucy grin, “All necessary for a ‘girl like me’ who needed to ward off those pesky cowboys who couldn’t wait to get in my pants.”
The Senator’s jaw tightened when Rafe winked at Nicki and she responded with a flippant nod. Seeming to understand that they both were making fun of him, Senator Chambers dropped his obsequious manner and asked crisply,
“I don’t understand. Were you in the military?”
“No, my father wouldn’t permit me to join the military. I received my training through private sources. My uncle was a small town sheriff. He oversaw my training. I was lucky. Between my uncle and my father, I trained with some of the best fighters in the world.”
Rafe marveled at Nicki’s easy slicing and dicing bits and pieces of the truth. He’d met her Idaho “uncle” and “aunt”. The background check his team prepared wasn’t necessary. Former KGB was written all over them. Knowing her father as he did, Rafe was certain he knew more about Nicki’s background than she did. Given Yuri’s agonized revelations during late night sessions, and the information he had gathered through his own resources, Rafe was confident Yuri had not shared his tortured past with his innocent young daughter. It was likely he never would.
~~~
After Nicki made it as clear as she could that she was repelled not charmed by the practiced philanderer, the Senator gave up in disgust and turned his attentions to Rafe.
Nicki was struck as she watched the two powerful men circling one another—how primitive, yet how predictable their actions. Two alpha males sizing each other up, marking their territory, jockeying for position. The Senator’s weapon of choice seemed to be ingratiating smiles and urbane analysis of the topic being discussed. Rafe’s arsenal was his barely disguised disdain for the Senator driven home by an occasional cocky grin.
When they’d finished their dessert and the servants had cleared the settings, Rafe rose from the table. Motioning to the cozy seating arrangement to the side of the dining area, he said, “Senator, Nicki? Let’s con
tinue our conversation in a more comfortable way. I always enjoy a fire on nights like this. Keeps the wind at bay.”
The Senator settled in one of the overstuffed armchairs in front the magnificent fieldstone fireplace. Nicki moved to the sofa. Without the protection of the dining room table she was conscious of her short skirt. As surreptitiously as possible, she eased the miniscule fabric over her thighs. She looked up to see Rafe watching her awkward moves. His wicked grin confirmed he was enjoying her discomfort. Tossing her head, she gave him a bright smile then made a point of slowly crossing one leg over the other as if daring him to look up her dress. Rafe’s eyes widened then he gave her a rakish wink acknowledging her audacious move had the intended effect.
Rafe walked over to the liquor cabinet against the wall. Holding up an ornate bottle labeled “Pionneau 1969”, he smiled. “What’s your poison, Senator? A Camus Cognac or the smoothest scotch you’re likely to taste? Or perhaps you prefer coffee?”
The Senator’s smile was almost sincere. “Not coffee, Rafe. Ordinarily I wouldn’t turn down a forty-year-old cognac but a good belt of scotch has more appeal at the moment.”
Rafe rolled his eyes at the Senator’s clumsy attempt at good old boy bonhomie, as if he didn’t know that the Glenfiddich Scotch was as expensive as the Camus. He should have offered him a Budweiser to see if he’d deign to drink that! Rafe turned to Nicki and cocked a questioning brow.
“Nicki?”
“Yes, please. Scotch.”
Tony moved quietly in the background, lighting the fireplace. In minutes the crackling fire sent a warm pleasant glow throughout the room. As he moved to leave, Tony darkened the lights in the dining area and opened the drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. From her seat across the room, Nicki was awed as she always was by the stark beauty of the Pocono Mountains. For a brief second, a wave of loneliness flashed over her, reminding her how much she missed her father. The two of them had spent many long evenings in front of the fireplace in their own mountain home high above Lucerne nestled in the Swiss Alps. Given that he was a virtual recluse, she rarely saw her father but they spoke almost daily. She glanced up in time to see Rafe studying her; his knowing gaze confirmed he likely knew what she was thinking. She looked down, not wanting to share any more of her soul than this unsettling man had already garnered.
Rafe set the bottle of Glenfiddich and three glasses on the coffee table. He poured two fingers of the pale amber liquid in each of their glasses, then handed one to Nicki and the other to the Senator. Filling his own glass he raised it to them both. His eyes were dark, shadowed.
“To the successful resolution of difficult issues.”
The Senator flushed, then nodded and drained his glass.
Rafe pushed the humidor of fragrant Cuban cigars in the center of the table toward the Senator, who took one from the embossed container. Nicki watched as Rafe carefully chose a cigar for himself then made a production of lighting it. He clipped the end with a heavy silver cutter, rolled the unlit cigar in his long slim fingers as if treasuring its feel, then delicately sniffed it.
With a flick of the silver lighter, he lit the Senator’s cigar, then his own. Quietly puffing on his cigar until it was drawing steadily, Rafe settled back in his chair, a cloud of fragrant smoke masking his half-closed eyes. Nicki sucked in a shaky breath watching the careful ritual play out. She was struck by Rafe’s easy elegance. Every movement was lazy, yet controlled. A symphony of orchestrated notes until he reached the self-imposed end of his carefully composed prelude. Never missing a beat, he turned to the unsuspecting Senator who at the moment appeared relaxed, lulled by Rafe’s deceptive hospitality.
Crossing his legs and flicking a nonexistent ash from the sharp crease on his trousers, Rafe’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. They were as hard, as cool as his words.
“What do you need from me, Senator?
The Senator started. Dusky red flooded his cheeks. In one sentence Rafe shifted the balance of power, clarifying the true nature of their relationship. Now the gloves were off. All the rest had been foreplay. From this minute forward the unwritten rules of the game were clear. The Senator was in trouble. And much as he hated to admit it, he did need Rafe. Badly.
Chapter 7
“It’s Hillary, my daughter. She…she’s gone.”
“How long?” Rafe’s voice was soft, calm.
“Since…since Monday.”
“Hmm. Five days?”
“Yes.” A note of anger crept into the Senator’s voice. “Her mother is worried sick.”
“I see. And you’re not?”
The Senator scowled. “I wasn’t. Not at first. Now, I’m beginning to wonder. If it’s more than one of her usual pranks. Trying to get my attention.”
“Have you notified the police?”
The Senator shuddered, running his hands over his stylishly coiffed hair.
“God, no! Jesus, man, you know how “discreet” the police are. The D.C., department is a fucking sieve. It wouldn’t be two hours before the press was all over it.”
Rafe studied the agitated man in front of him. The Senator’s face was flushed, a sheen of sweat marked his brow. But it was anger not concern that radiated from the previously contained politician. Rafe kept his tone cool, bordering on casual. He didn’t want to incite the Senator. He could learn more from the Senator if he could get him to drop his mask.
“How old is Hillary?”
“Seventeen.” Chambers added with a harsh grunt, “Going on thirty, if you know what I mean.” He gave Rafe a quick glance. Rafe saw the contempt in his eyes. Contempt, for his own daughter? Or more likely for women in general. The Senator was a “user”, a known philanderer. His sly glance confirmed he thought he saw a kindred spirit in Rafe. Just one more reason to despise the guy, Rafe thought, disgust churning in his gut.
Rafe puffed thoughtfully on his cigar.
“You mentioned her previous behavior. Has this happened before? Has your underage daughter ‘left’ for days at a time without letting you or your wife know where she is?”
The senator snapped, dispensing with his usual civility.
“Look, Boudin. You can cut the sarcastic crap. You know what I’m dealing with here. You know damn well the implications for my political career of an incident like this. The press would pillory me with it. Hillary is outrageous. Uncontrollable. It’s been one episode after another. All for the purpose of embarrassing me.”
He went on, sneering. “Apparently the finest education, a clothes budget that exceeds the average income of a middle class six person family, plus potentially being the daughter of the President of the United States isn’t enough for my ungrateful spawn.”
Senator Chambers grimaced then his expression hardened further. He shifted in his chair and pinned Rafe with a fierce glare.
“Let’s be clear, Boudin. The reason I’m here is because this could be a public relations disaster. There’s no telling what mess my daughter has gotten herself into now. But one word of this latest prank of hers hits the press and you won’t get a dime!”
Rafe leaned forward and tapped his cigar into the ashtray in front of him. Settling back in his chair he returned the fuming man’s gaze.
“Indeed, Senator. Let us be clear. First, I have not agreed to take your case. If I do, and that will depend on a number of factors, I make the rules, you don’t. Since you seem concerned about the financial aspects of our potential arrangement, let’s address that issue before we discuss the obvious safety concerns for your young daughter. My fee is $500,000.” At the Senator’s gasp, Rafe puffed on his cigar, then continued.
“The first $250,000 is due before you leave tonight and is non-refundable. The remaining $250,000 is due when we return your daughter to you. Plus expenses, of course.”
Purplish red splotches stained the Senator’s cheeks. His voice was thick with outrage. He blustered, “You’ve got to be joking! That’s insane. A half a million dollars to find a spoiled brat who’s likely holed up
somewhere high on coke with a bunch of low-life social climbers who would like nothing better than to knock up the daughter of a sitting United States Senator?”
Rafe shrugged. “It’s your choice, Senator Chambers. Those are my terms. My additional terms are that you and your wife open your doors to me and my team and that you answer every question we ask no matter how personal. You came to me for a reason, Senator. I’m not yet clear what that is. From what you’ve said, you value discretion above all else. In addition to discretion, ISA is effective. If I decide to help you, we’ll find your daughter, Senator Chambers. On my terms, not yours.
He leaned forward and ground out his cigar. Unwinding his lean frame from the overstuffed chair, Rafe walked to the desk against the far wall. He removed a Mont Blanc pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. He took a pad of paper from the drawer, scribbled on it then tore off the top sheet.
He folded the paper and handed it to the Senator.
“Both of these men are excellent private investigators. They charge a tenth of what I do. Given your description of the situation, their skills are adequate for the job. And both men are discreet. I recommend that you put your staff on the public relation components. I’m confident they have a wealth of experience maintaining your public image without letting the details of your private life sully that façade.”
The Senator reared up. He looked apoplectic. The vein in his temple throbbed dangerously. Rafe’s fighter instincts kicked in. The Senator looked ready to charge.
Then, as if the air had been let out of an overinflated blimp, the deflated man sunk back in his chair, his face pale, jaw slack. He coughed—a practiced signal. His aide who had been standing discreetly in the hallway stepped into the doorway.
Without looking up, the Senator waved him in.
“This is Ken Peters, my chief of staff. He’s the only one on my team I trust.”
The small bespeckled young man entered, his face tight with concern. He nodded politely to both Rafe and Nicki.
Senator Chambers looked up and met Rafe’s gaze.
