“What are you doing?” Steve muttered.
“Renting us a safe place to catch a nap,” Jessica whispered, settling her head on his shoulder.
STEVE DIDN’T GO TO SLEEP.
He put his arm around Jessica and let her relax against his body and lay his head atop hers. It was a sweet feeling as he felt her go to sleep, trusting him to protect her. For so much of the time they’d spent together she had been the one to protect him.
He’d never met a woman like her.
She’d gone to Hollywood—Sin City, her father called it—conquered it, and then she’d chosen to return home, giving up a promising movie career. She’d faced threats, even death, and still refused to let him disappear.
Jessica Randall was an outstanding woman.
He didn’t want to let her go.
She’d told him she wasn’t asking for promises. But for the first time in his life he wanted to give them. For the first time in his life he wanted a future.
But he couldn’t promise her anything.
After today, if he managed to get to the office of the head of the DEA and convince him of what he believed, he’d be required to help clean up the mess in L.A. And Los Angeles was a long way from Wyoming.
Even afterward, he couldn’t go to Wyoming. He was an undercover drug-enforcement agent. He didn’t think they had a big drug problem in Wyoming. What could he do to support a wife and maybe even children in Rawhide?
He pulled the slumbering Jessica a little closer to him. He hated the idea of letting her go with him into the building. Even though he knew her disguise had worked for him all day, he didn’t want her to be put at risk.
His immediate boss, Miguel Antonio, wouldn’t hesitate to kill Jessica in order to avoid capture and conviction. He must have become hardened to the good side of himself if the theft of drugs had gone on as long as Steve feared it had. Jessica, if Miguel tried to kill her, wouldn’t be the first who had died to ensure he wasn’t discovered.
“Sir?” the cabbie asked suddenly, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “You wish me to continue?”
“Yes,” Steve agreed. “Just make sure to get us back to that address by 1:45.”
“Okay. Here’s the Lincoln Memorial,” he pointed out, looking in the mirror at Steve.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“You’re not a first-time visitor?”
“Nope.”
No, he wasn’t a newcomer to D.C. or its politics. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he couldn’t convince the head of DEA, Mr. Walter Grouse. Steve had met the man several times, but Miguel was the fair-haired boy around there, second in command for Grouse.
Grouse might refuse to believe him.
He’d have to make Grouse believe the evidence. He couldn’t let Miguel continue to spread the sadness that was the result of drugs. Families devastated, parents losing hope because they couldn’t help their children get off the drugs, or babies born with crack already in their systems.
That was why he had to succeed.
“We’re going back now,” the cabbie said, again rousing Steve from his thoughts.
He waited until they were almost there before he woke Jessica.
“Honey, we’re here.”
He watched as her heavy eyelids slowly moved upward. With a slightly dazed look that told him she didn’t get nearly enough sleep, she said with a slight frown, “Where?”
“At the DEA,” he said and gave her a quick kiss. Only to help her remember their personas, he told himself.
Jessica sat up and pulled out a compact from her large purse. She immediately put on more lipstick and combed the curls all over her head. Then she powdered her nose. “Okay, I’m ready.” She turned to Steve and shot him a conspiratorial look.
“Do you think that nice man who rode with us will still be around there?” she asked. “He might think our appearance there is a little strange.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he would. We can only hope he’s gone home, like he said.”
The cabbie stopped in the no-parking zone to allow his passengers direct access to the building.
“Do we owe you any more?” Jessica asked.
“No, ma’am. I owe you.” The cabdriver began peeling off bills from a roll he had in his jacket.
“Keep it,” she said with a smile. “It was a wonderful ride.”
“But you slept the entire time,” the cabbie protested.
“Yes, we did. And it was wonderful,” she said and slipped out of the cab after Steve. “Wasn’t it, Howie?”
“Sure,” Steve agreed and let himself take one more kiss.
One of the two guards standing outside the doors muttered, “Who are these two lovebirds?”
“Tourists. They’re probably lost,” the other answered. He took a good look at Jessica. “I wouldn’t mind being lost with her.”
Jessica tugged on her skirt, which only emphasized its shortness, which was proved by the faces of the two guards. When they reached the door, she was wearing a big smile above her low neckline, and the two guards scarcely gave Steve a glance.
She told them about their appointment and the guards stepped aside, holding the doors open for them.
“Take the elevator on the left, ma’am,” one of them called after Steve and Jessica. “Go to the top floor.”
“All right, thank you,” Jessica called with a wave.
Steve felt her hand wrapping around his arm.
“Not much longer,” he whispered.
“I don’t know why you insisted on coming here,” Jessica complained, taking Steve by surprise. She’d lapsed once again into her Betty Jean character. “You could’ve probably gotten all the information off the Internet.”
“Come on, Betty Jean,” he said, getting into the spirit. “Since Dad arranged the interview, I kind of have to go.”
“We could tell him we got lost. Then we could go to Mount Vernon. I hear it’s so beautiful.”
“But it’s kind of cold today. I’m not sure my letter jacket would keep you warm enough.”
“Well,” she drawled, a sparkling look in her eyes, “we could cuddle enough to keep me warm.”
He felt several people near them waiting for the elevator, but he didn’t dare look around.
“You’re embarrassing me, Betty Jean,” he complained in a loud whisper.
She jerked her hand away and took a step back from him. Turning around to an older woman behind her, she complained, “Men are so difficult. At first, they want to make love all the time. Then, once they’ve got you under their spell, they’re not interested.”
“Betty Jean!” Steve protested in a sharp whisper.
“Well, it’s true!”
Several men by the adjacent elevator chuckled.
At that moment, the elevator arrived. The doors slid open and several people exited. Steve slid behind Jessica to give them room. He breathed out slowly after the men had moved past them. One of them was Miguel Antonio, his boss.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica whispered as they moved into the elevator.
“Later,” he muttered. As they turned, the doors were closing and he saw Miguel turn around to stare right at him. He hoped he didn’t recognize him.
In the elevator, Jessica, feeling his tension, began her routine again about them being on vacation and what she hoped to see. She asked everyone what they recommended they go see while in D.C.
Finally, one of the ladies asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, my boyfriend promised his dad he’d come visit some guy he knows.”
“Oh, I hate those kind of chores,” the woman returned. Then the elevator opened on her floor and she got out.
Two floors later, the last person except for Steve and Jessica got out of the elevator.
When the doors closed, Jessica looked at Steve. “We’re finally alone.”
“Not to do what you have in mind,” he said, staring straight ahead. “You’ve already embarrassed me enough.” He hoped she understood what he was
saying. He knew there were cameras and microphones in each elevator. He just hoped Miguel hadn’t recognized him.
“Oh, you’re just being difficult,” she said with a pout. With her jacket pulled back, she put her hands on her hips and wiggled her body.
He figured whoever reviewed those tapes would keep them around for a long time. It certainly meant they wouldn’t be looking at him. At least not yet.
Chapter Fourteen
The elevator doors slid open to a gracious area with lush carpet and furniture that looked comfortable but businesslike.
The only visible occupant was a middle-aged woman sitting behind a large desk with fresh flowers on it.
Steve took Jessica’s hand and walked over to her. “We have an appointment to see Mr. Grouse.”
Without even looking up, she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Grouse is out of the office.”
“No, he’s not. Please let him know we’re here.”
The woman glared at Steve. “I’ll do no such thing. I said he’s out of the office.”
“My father made the appointment. He’ll be very disappointed to know that his old friend can’t make time to meet me,” Steve said. “The name is Howard Hensen.”
“You’re from out of town?”
“Yes.”
“May I see some ID?”
Steve took his billfold out of his back jeans pocket and handed it over.
The woman examined it, then she stared at him. “This doesn’t look like you.”
“Well, no. I’ve grown some since that time, and my girlfriend—” he nodded toward Jessica “—decided to do my hair like this. I told you, Betty Jean, that no one would recognize me!”
“But you’ve got me along to tell ’em who you are, honey.”
The woman looked at Jessica and asked stiffly, “Do you have ID?”
“Of course.” She began digging in her big purse and the woman tapped her nails on the desk impatiently.
“Here it is,” Jessica said, as if she expected to be praised for finally finding it. “Of course, my hair’s not exactly the same color. After all, I am a hairstylist. Oh, I could do wonders with your hair. It would make you look so much…younger!” she said brightly.
“No, thank you. Just a moment.”
The secretary got up and disappeared behind a door that had been closed.
“Howie, how long will this take?”
Steve looked at her, a sideways glance. “It will take what it takes, Betty Jean. You’ll just have to be patient.”
She examined her nails. “Oh, no, I’ve nicked a nail. Now, where is that nail file? I’m sure it’s in here.” She dug around in her big purse but didn’t come up with it before the door opened.
The woman came back out and gave each of them their IDs. “Mr. Grouse will see you for a minute. Then he’ll get an agent to show you around.”
When Steve and Jessica started toward the door, she said, “No! Wait here. He’ll come out and shake your hands. Then you can take your tour.”
“But I want to see his office,” Jessica said and purposely moved around Steve to be closer to the door.
The woman began to object, “You can’t—” But the door opened and an older man came out.
“Are you Mr. Grouse?” Jessica said in a sugary voice. “You are just the sweetest man to come greet us.” She took his hand. Then she said, “Here’s Howie. Howie Hensen. He’s the one who really wanted to talk to you. Me, I’m just dying to see your office.” As she made that last statement, she headed for the office Grouse had exited a second ago. “I want to tell the folks back home that you’ve got the best office of everyone,” she announced as she entered.
“No! You can’t go in there!” the secretary screamed and started after her.
“It’s all right, Miss Carson. I’ll take care of it.” Mr. Grouse shook Steve’s hand and said, “Shall we take a tour of my office, Mr. Hensen?”
“Yes, sir, thank you. Betty Jean doesn’t mean to be pushy. It just seems to come naturally.”
“I can believe that,” he said as he and Steve entered his office.
“Oh, Mr. Grouse,” Jessica called as soon as they came in. “You have such a wonderful view! Can you tell me what that building over there is? I think it might be the White House because it is white.”
Since she was leaning forward and looking past the last window, Grouse had to cross the room to see where she was pointing.
Steve closed the door and then unsnapped his shirt so he could untape the evidence. At the unusual noise, Grouse spun around.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “You can’t close that door. That’s not allowed.” He began hurrying to the door.
“Wait!” Jessica called. “Mr. Grouse, this is Steve Carter, one of your undercover DEA agents.”
Grouse looked at Steve. “No, it’s not. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but Steve Carter was shot by drug dealers about ten days ago in Los Angeles. So you’d better come up with another scheme.”
Steve took a step forward. “She’s telling the truth, sir, and I can prove it. If you open that door, my life is over. And maybe hers, too.”
“Do you have a gun?” Grouse remained calm, his training evident.
Steve drew a deep breath. “No, sir, I don’t. I knew they’d be looking for me at the airport. I didn’t want to show my badge to be allowed to carry a gun.”
“Is it really you, Carter?” Grouse stepped closer to look at him.
Steve nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Why would anyone be looking for you? Miguel told me you were dead.”
“They were looking for me because Miguel had told them I was a turncoat, that I was selling drugs.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“It’s the only answer. He knew I had escaped the ambush he set up for me.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he’s the only one I told of my suspicions about my partners.”
“What suspicions?”
Steve said, “I’ll show you what I found if you’ll lock the door and be sure the intercom is turned off.”
“You don’t trust my secretary?” Grouse demanded.
“She first refused to admit us, telling us you were out of town. Then we had to convince her we were harmless before she’d let you know we were here and that we had an appointment.”
They all three stood there in silence. Finally, Grouse walked to the door. Steve didn’t know if he intended to lock the door or open it and walk out to his secretary.
When the man locked the door, Steve heard Jessica let out a big sigh of relief.
He smiled at her. Then he went to Grouse’s desk and began laying out the information he’d gathered on his partners. Grouse sat down and let him explain the information. He showed him the pictures of the houses he had discovered in his partners’ names and the amounts they had in their accounts.
“How can they afford this? They’re not making that much money!” Grouse exclaimed.
Steve circled the desk and sat down in one of the chairs. “Come on, Jess, sit down.”
She’d been silent the entire time. Now she crossed to the other chair and sat down beside him.
Grouse looked up at her. “Jess? I thought—”
“I’m Jessica Randall, Mr. Grouse. My father was the one who arranged the interview.”
The man stared at Jessica, taking in her attire, before he said, “Brett Randall is a good man.”
“Thank you. I think so, too.” She added a sincere smile.
“If these men are doing what you say, Carter, they have to be stopped. I’ll call Miguel and—”
“No!” Steve snapped. When Grouse raised his eyebrows, Steve said, “I’ve made that mistake once.”
“What do you mean?”
“The night I was shot, I’d reported my suspicions to Miguel an hour before. My partners drilled me in the shoulder in a dark alley.”
“You were actually shot?”
“Yes. Do you wa
nt to see the scar?”
“No. How did you survive?”
“Jessica opened her garage door just after I was shot and backed out into the alley. When she saw my body, she stopped her vehicle and came to see if I was alive.”
Grouse’s eyes widened as he looked at the fragile, feminine woman across from him. “That took guts, Miss Randall.”
“It’s what my daddy would’ve done, sir.”
“Yes, it is. So she called the ambulance for you?”
“She intended to, but I told her it would mean my death. I managed to convince her not to call the police, either.”
“How’d you do that?”
With a soft laugh, Steve said, “I don’t really know.”
“Young lady, can you explain it?”
Jessica shrugged. “I figured he had to be telling the truth if he was turning down help. So I took a chance on him.”
“What did you do?”
“I put him in my SUV under all my clothes and got on a freeway until I was stopped by a highway patrolman. He said my SUV was similar to one used in a robbery and he wanted to search it. I told him he couldn’t search because he’d mess up my clothes. I told him I was on my way to Texas. He let me go. I got off the freeway and headed north. Oh, and I changed my plates to my Wyoming plates.”
“Did you take him all the way to Wyoming?”
“Yes. He was too injured to go anywhere on his own.”
“What happened when you got him to…Rawhide, is it?”
“Yes, I turned him over to my brother-in-law and my cousin. They are the two doctors in Rawhide.”
“Didn’t they have to report the wound to the law?”
“Yes, that’s Mike. He’s my cousin-in-law.”
“And when he recovered, you came with him to D.C.?”
Steve answered for her. “She did more than that. She killed one of my partners when he burst in with a gun and shot the place up.” He sent a look of appreciation toward Jessica.
“I see,” Grouse said, but he was frowning.
Steve continued. “And she devised our disguises to get us here without being arrested. If that had happened, we both would’ve been killed.”
“Under whose orders?” Grouse asked.
Randall on the Run Page 14
