by L. A. Long
“We can stay at a hotel,” MP said and gave the cops his cell number. Lenore did the same. Then went to pack a small overnight bag.
****
Lenore and MP decided to check out of his hotel and limit talking in the car to the innocuous. Lenore had suggested one or both places could be bugged, and while JI was dead, there could be someone else out there listening.
Once checked into their room at the Hyatt Princeton, Lenore flopped down on the bed and sighed.
“Now what?” she asked.
MP plopped down next to her and pulled her close to him.
She rested her head on his chest and burrowed in closer. He offered comfort, warmth, a feeling of safety. Every time he touched her didn’t have to lead to sex. But if she kept thinking about it, it would.
“You said you wanted to call Connor Walker.”
“Yes, but he’s a lawyer, and I have to be careful as to what I say. Keeping the photos could be considered obstruction of justice or something. But I don’t want to go right to Morris either. I certainly don’t trust him and Maxwell.”
“I can see why. Call Walker and let him know about what happened at the house, the fact that there was a bug, and that JI was following you before his demise.”
“I can’t believe he’s dead. That he attacked Maria. He was such a passionless person, right down to his gray car.”
“I thought the same thing when I saw the car. But maybe that’s how he did what he did. Under the radar, nonthreatening, never calling attention to himself.”
“You’re right. A person in his position wouldn’t want the spotlight on him. I always thought it was because he was a computer nerd.”
MP laced his hand through hers as it lay on his chest.
“I can’t believe it,” she said again. “And I’m ashamed to say this, but I don’t care that he’s dead, other than it involved my housekeeper and my house.”
“You don’t have to mourn for a man who was obviously up to no good and may have sought to do you harm, Lenore.”
Reluctantly she sat up. “I need to call Connor, and I need to call Nathan.”
Lenore told Walker the entire story, except for the pictures.
“How do you know this isn’t someone from a crazy tabloid trying to get dirt on you and Finnegan?”
“Because I do.”
“What are you not telling me?”
“You’re a lawyer.”
“Damn it, Lenore,” Connor said with unusual ferocity. It made her jump. “Your personal safety may be in question; Nate’s, too, for that matter. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Morris and the senator, but there’s that potential as well. What are you not telling me?” he all but demanded this time.
“Listen closely. Morris thinks they were followed from D.C. They were, or I was followed from my house and from the hotel to your office, leading someone to them.”
“You know this?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, before I forget: Is your son photogenic?” asked Walker pointedly.
“Yes.”
“I’ll need a few good shots for the employee newsletter. We’re featuring our interns this month.”
“Okay, but back to the topic at hand. The cop believes that JI was involved in the Sentinel piece. His wife reads both MP and Lacy.”
“Lucky break.”
“I gave him several autographed books to take home.”
“Good thinking.”
“On occasion.”
He chuckled. “You think I should clue the boys in?”
“Not that I want to, but I think one of them has the resources to deal with it.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Let me know what happens. Call my cell. I’m at the Hyatt in Princeton. But don’t tell anyone.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Attorney-client privilege.”
“Exactly.”
Next she called her son and told him a similar tale and concluded, “I wanted you to be aware of what happened here. If you think someone’s following you, you might be right.”
“Got it, Mom. I’ll deal with it. It’s not exactly as if I’m hanging out with the Maxwells.”
Then she remembered that he should have gotten back his results from the tests he took to see if he was a suitable match for Jack Maxwell’s bone marrow transplant and asked him about it.
“I’m not as good a match as the senator hoped I’d be. But I’m the best match so far. I might be his only option. They’re going to talk to him and let me know.”
“You okay with all this?” Lenore asked, picking up something in his voice.
“Yeah, it’s sad that this stuff happens. Jack’s a prick, but I’d never wish him ill or dead.”
“I know, honey. I’m sorry.”
“Mom, it’s not your fault.” Then changing the subject, he asked, “We still on for Friday?”
“You bet. I’m looking forward to it. We’ll talk some more then.”
“I love you, Mom. Be careful.”
“You too, Nate. I love you.” She felt tears stinging her eyes. Where did they come from? Why was she such a watering pot?
MP came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. “Relax,” he whispered in her ear.
She arched into him.
“Your muscles are tight. Lie down. I’ll rub your back. Wait.” He pulled her sweater over her head.
“That feels heavenly,” she purred as he massaged her back and shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
He kissed her back, then drew his tongue down her spine. She shivered. He continued to taunt and tantalize. Lenore started to turn over. “Stay where you are, lass.” MP undid her bra clasp and slipped it off her. Rubbing the imprint the band made around her rib cage, then lower, slowly removing her pants and panties.
“No fair. I’ll play, but you need to be undressed, too,” Lenore said.
“Hmm,” he nuzzled her neck. “Is that a request?”
“At the moment. I could issue something stronger if the need arises,” she laughed. “I see it’s already arisen.” Her voice was laced with amusement as he rubbed against her teasingly.
“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll comply with your request.”
MP disrobed and rejoined her on the bed, coming up behind her.
“Up on your knees and hold the headboard.”
She looked at him suspiciously over her shoulder.
“No, love. Nothing that squirmy,” he said, reading her mind.
She laughed and did as he asked.
He moved her hair to the side and kissed her neck, then down her back as he caressed her bottom.
She enjoyed the feel of his lips and tongue on her back. Goose bumps rose on her skin and she gasped as his fingers found their way to her vagina and clitoris.
Reaching back with one hand, she attempted to touch what she wanted, but he would have none of it and put her hand back on the headboard.
“You’ll have what you desire very soon.”
She could feel him sliding between her buttocks and pushed into him.
MP positioned her hips so he could enter her more fully. “Stay still for a moment,” he said.
She did and felt him slide into her slowly. As her muscles tightened around him, drawing him deeper, he groaned with undisguised satisfaction.
When he was fully seated in her, she used the headboard for leverage to push into him. To her surprise, he let her control the pace. His thumb circled her clitoris and aroused her further. As she began the freefall into orgasm, her pace quickened, and her muscles clamped and held him tight. He let out a growl before they both crashed to the bottom.
Michael Patrick helped her stretch out, then lay down and pulled her on top of him.
“Feel better, a chuisle?”
“I feel drugged.”
“Good. I’d like you addicted.”
“To you or the sex?”
“Both, I believe.”
“At least you’re honest.”
She sighed. “I suppose I should feel bad about having sex when there’s a dead body in my kitchen.”
“Why? You didn’t make him dead or even wish him thus.”
“I guess I’m numb about the entire thing.”
“Do you question everything you feel? Don’t you ever just go with it?”
“I’ve been going with and doing it a lot lately.”
“Are you bored or complaining?”
“No, if I could block out all the noise and concentrate on what’s good, I’d probably be dead from happiness.”
“Well now, we can’t have that, can we? Guess that’s why there’s a balance,” MP joked.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, love.” He kissed her nose.
“I do feel better. Some of the tension has left, and now I’m tired.”
“I’ll hold you.”
She sighed and snuggled into him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“What are we going to do, Gerald?” Byron all but whined.
“I’ve got someone going over to that John Irving’s house. Hopefully, we’ll beat the local cops. Can’t imagine there’s too many of them, and if they’re processing Lenore’s house that should take a while. She’s got a big house—”
“How do you know?” Maxwell interrupted.
“Said a palatial estate in the tabloid, so I figured it was big.” Morris lied with ease, no telltale stumble or body language to give him away.
Byron looked at him and nodded, “It’s big all right. Has a pool and a hot tub in the backyard, too.”
“She’s done well for herself.”
Maxwell snorted.
“Anyway,” Morris started again, “I’m hoping they get in and get anything linking you to Lenore out of there.”
“It might be too late. That picture I got came from somewhere, and you can’t seem to trace it. If it’s Corrine, I’m sure she already has copies of everything, probably in triplicate.”
“I bet the guy panicked when Finnegan confronted him.”
“Yeah, but even I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try and get the bugs out with the housekeeper there, especially when she wouldn’t let him in.”
“Panic does strange things to people, Byron.”
“But Lenore probably wouldn’t have even suspected bugs. The Irving guy could have gone over there one day to pretend to apologize or to beg for a second chance and get the bugs then.”
“Is that what you would have done?”
“Don’t know.”
“Anyhow, we owe Lenore big-time. She could have not told us or spilled all to the cops, but she didn’t.”
“She doesn’t want to be linked to me, nor does Nathan. Lenore would do anything to protect that boy.”
“Why do you find that odd? Most parents would go to any means to protect their child. Even you’re taking the extra step to try and get Jake that bone marrow transplant he needs.”
“I suppose.”
“Anyhow, that was a lucky break—that and the fact that the cleaning woman killed him. He can’t talk to anyone.”
“Is that woman legal? Can we get her deported?”
Morris gave him a give-me-a-break look. “She’s legal. I checked her out when Lenore hired her four, five years ago.”
“Did you check out this John Irving guy?”
“I did, and there was nothing that stood out about him. I’m guessing someone enlisted his help after they figured out he and Lenore were dating.”
“Couldn’t have lasted long.”
“Six, eight weeks I’d guess.”
“What about this Finnegan guy?”
“Seems fine. Moral, family man,” his friend said, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Something I’m not, you mean.”
Morris shrugged.
“So we’ll wait and see what our guy comes up with?” Maxwell asked.
“That’s all we can do for now, that and hope we get there before the cops.”
“All right, I need to go and deal with Jack.”
“Is he going to go through with the transplant even though it’s not a true match?”
“Don’t know. He said he’d think about it. He’s worried about graft-versus-host disease. It’s a complication that occurs after a stem cell or bone marrow transplant in which the newly transplanted material attacks the recipient’s body.”
Good Lord, he sounded like he memorized that from a textbook, Morris thought.
“Yes, but only identical twins are near-perfect matches, so no matter who it was, there’d be a risk,” Morris said.
“But Nate is further off the perfect spectrum than I’d hoped.”
“Expecting a miracle, Byron? Even if Nate was yours and Corrine’s, there’d only be a 35 percent chance of a match.”
“I thought I was due for one,” Maxwell said dejectedly.
Morris wanted to rail and make fun of him, but Maxwell was too pathetic, so he let it go.
“If Jack wants the procedure, you’ll let Nathan meet with him?”
“I don’t know that I have a choice.”
Morris found himself wishing that Jack would go to sleep and never wake up.
****
“Mo chuisle, it’s your phone.” MP gently nudged Lenore awake and handed it to her.
Sleepy and bleary-eyed, she answered. It was Walker.
“I see.”
“Well, that’s not good.”
“I bet,” she laughed. “Let me know if anything else develops.”
“Oh, and before you hang up, I have news from Nate, too.” She told him about the not-quite match that might have to do.
“Will do, thanks.”
“Talk about a wake-up call,” Lenore said. “Byron already received a picture of Nate, and Morris hasn’t been able to trace the origin. E-mail was nothing but a photo.”
“To taunt him? To say we know about your other son?” MP asked.
“Most likely. Morris said he’d take care of it, and Connor, I’m sure, didn’t want to know how. Nor do I for that matter.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The following day, Lenore and MP were finishing room service breakfast when the call from the Yardley PD came.
Lenore looked less than happy as MP watched her. She got off the phone furious.
“That SOB put a bug in the kitchen. It was bad enough that there was one in the office. I told you all about my dealings with Byron in the kitchen and, and, well—we’ve had some pretty energetic sex there too.”
At that he had to laugh. “Yes, and it’s a recipe I’d like to whip up again.”
Taken by surprise at his response and humor to the situation, she calmed herself a tad. “It was wonderful, wasn’t it?” Her eyes were bright at the memory.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, kissing her lips lightly. “It was off-the-charts sensational. I’m sure JI or whoever was listening was more than jealous.”
“This is ridiculous, MP. What if somebody leaks the audio?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care. But the fact is we’re two, single, consenting adults who happen to love one another, and if we want to make love in the kitchen, it’s no one’s business but ours. Plus, what was done is illegal so if the tapes are leaked and the cops find out who, he or she will be in trouble with the law.”
“I’ll be mortified.”
“You’ll get over it. There is nothing wrong with having sex and enjoying yourself.”
“Hopefully, it won’t leak.”
“So only the two rooms were bugged?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s good. Now I can ravish you in any room of the house in private.”
“You can.” Grinning, she let him kiss her again.
“They found nothing in JI’s house. So, either Morris got to it before the cops, or there was nothing there to find. Irving could have had an office or worked in another location.”
�
�Don’t think so. I don’t see your gray man doing anything over the top.”
“But I’d never think he’d bug my house or stalk me either.”
“You have a point,” he conceded. “But I think someone approached him to do this. I don’t think he was hired directly by the person who wanted information. I think there was a third party.”
“I know you do. But who wanted the information? Most likely Corrine. I think she’s every bit as resourceful as Gerald Morris. But the point is, we can go home.”
“I like the sound of that. Is the place still a mess? Do we need to deal with clean-up or anything?”
“Uh, I didn’t even ask. We’ll have to see when we get there. I should have thought to ask about reporters, too. Shit, what is wrong with me?”
“Not your everyday routine, mo chuisle. Cut yourself some slack. We can stay here another night or at least the day and go home in the middle of the night before they come back, if they do.”
Her cell was going off. “It’s Nik. It must have hit the news somewhere. I’m sure she has news alerts set up on us, or her crazy partner does.”
“Don’t tell her about Maxwell.”
“I’ll play it by ear,” she said as she engaged the call.
“Are you and MP okay?”
“Nik, we’re fine. We weren’t even there. My housekeeper was. She killed him.”
“Poor woman, but good for her. Some crazy guy demands to get into your house and won’t leave? Stabbing him is a good alternative to a gun.”
“Um, I suppose.”
“I already asked my partner if he hired the asshole. He says no, and I tend to believe him. I can tell when he’s lying.”
“I think John Irving was stalking me, Nik.” She told her agent about him following her at the Mercer Museum.
“Good thing the MF is dead.”
“I hate to agree, but I guess so.”
“Although why did he insist upon getting into your house if you weren’t there?”
The police must not have released all the information. Nikko didn’t seem to know about the bugs.
“Don’t know,” she replied.
“Probably to wait for you to come home. Ambush you and MP or something.”
“It’s possible. I think he was a wacko. I checked him out but…” She let the sentence trail off.
“Yeah, lots of them. One is my partner.”
