The Scotland Yard Exchange Series

by Stephanie Queen

  “Is that what you call it—a discussion?” Dennis was not placated—and acting more like his Irish self. Madeline narrowed her eyes.

  “I do,” Madeline said. “I rather enjoy these discussions, Dennis. They keep me on my toes. Reminds me a little of some discussions I’ve had with you.” She arched her brow when Dennis finally took his laser-point gaze away from PJD and looked at her. Just what she needed, another protector. There was no mistaking it. But he took her cue and backed off.

  “A backhanded compliment if I ever heard one. I’m ready to head back to the polluted nether out east.” Dennis began escorting her without waiting for an answer. She turned over her shoulder to PJD.

  “Don’t mind him—he always talks that way. Our theory is that he’s a wannabe poet in political analyst sheep’s clothing.” Madeline winked. PJD rewarded her with an amused smile that caused a jump in her heartbeat. He continued to stand with his arms folded, same as when he walked in, unmoving as a rock. She wondered what his heart was doing underneath.

  They both left with their people and Madeline headed to her childhood home to sneak in a visit with her parents.

  “Anyone out front?” Peter asked Madeline on his cell phone as he drove through the center of Amherst, Massachusetts, and past the college where both of her parents were professors.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean someone’s not watching,” she answered.

  “Oh, so now you’re getting into this cloak and dagger stuff I see. Good observation. Don’t worry, though, I’m in disguise and you can just open the garage door when I get close.” Peter actually doubted whether the glasses and baseball cap qualified as a disguise. He was wearing an unadorned white T-shirt and worn out levis that went back not quite to the seventies, but that still wasn’t much if they were looking for him—and he’d bet anything they were looking for him. Hopefully the beat up old car Acer’s friend left for him in the mall parking lot, not to mention the other guys with him—Bill and Bob along with his “double” who was dressed like him and crouched down in the back—would do the trick. But he wasn’t convinced. Then he had an inspiration.

  “Mad, is your neighbor home, the one with the fenced in yard to the right facing you?”

  “Yeah, why?” He heard the apprehension in her voice.

  “Do me a favor and call them and ask them to open their garage door. I’ll get out there. Otherwise it’s too risky,” he said. She laughed.

  “Don’t mock me.” He smiled as he said it, and Bill looked at him and shook his head in disgust.

  “What makes you think my neighbor—no my parent’s neighbor—is trustworthy?”

  “Haven’t they known your family for a gazillion years? Didn’t their daughter babysit you when you were in pigtails?” She was really laughing now. He spoke more quietly so only she could hear. “Weren’t they going to be invited to our wedding?” There was silence on her end. He mentally gulped. Why did he taunt her—taunt them both—like that? He realized his heart was beating too fast and it had nothing to do with the possibility of getting caught by the press—or worse—some of the mayor’s spies. Their car was almost to her door.

  He backed off. “Forget it. We’ll gamble on them. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “Of course they will. I was only kidding about not trusting them. I’ll call now.” She clicked off. It sounded like she was in a hurry to end the conversation. But of course she was, because he kept talking stupid.

  “What’s up, boss? Change of plans?”

  “Very astute. You see that car over there?”

  Bill craned his head and nodded yes.

  “There’s someone in it watching us.”

  “Shit!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.” Peter pulled into the Graces’ neighbor’s driveway. The door to one of the three bays of the garage opened, and he pulled the car into the empty spot. An older woman with a big smile stood there waiting as the door came down behind them.

  “Maybe we should have turned around.” Bill seemed nervous. Jeff popped up from the back seat.

  Peter turned to the three men before they got out of the car.

  “This is the Graces’ neighbor. Stay for ten minutes then leave. Go back to the mall and get lost in there for a while—at least an hour—and then call Rick to come pick you up.” They were looking past him at the woman. Peter smiled at her and got out, taking his glasses and hat off.

  “I thought that was you, Peter. My, I must say I never expected a visit, but it’s a pleasure anyway.” The woman gave him a hug. He hugged her back, remembering her from a few backyard cookouts from the old, more relaxed days when he was with Madeline.

  “Sorry for the sneak attack, but it couldn’t be helped. I’ll have to leave these guys in your garage for a few minutes if you don’t mind. I’ll be off.” He headed toward the back of the garage to the door leading to the yard. She waved her hand. He almost laughed at the looks on the faces of the three men he was leaving behind. They would have shot him if they had guns right now.

  Peter rapped on the back door of the brick foursquare colonial. He looked at the lush green vines growing along the walls and thought, but of course, she came from an ivy-covered tower, both literally and figuratively. She came from an even more rarefied place than he did—academia.

  Her mother, Maureen, answered the door with familiar enthusiasm in her smile. It had been far too long since he’d seen them. Six years, in fact. Not since the dinner celebrating his engagement to their daughter.

  He stepped into her heartfelt embrace and shook Edward Grace’s outstretched hand without saying a word. They were all silent for a moment, as if in memorial to the dead relationship between him and Madeline.

  Then Madeline appeared in the doorway of the sophisticated kitchen where they’d all shared more than a few gourmet meals and countless hours of lively philosophical discussions about government, politics and the nature of man. He felt a gut-wrenching loss at the flood of memories, especially when he took in her face and saw she was remembering too.

  “Why can’t you run with me?”

  “Yes, why not, Madeline?” It was her mother and not her father who asked. They both turned to look at her and she turned slightly pink.

  “Maybe we should leave and give you two a chance to talk in private,” Maureen said. “You obviously went to a lot of trouble to have the opportunity. I’m sure you have much to discuss.” Edward nodded his assent, and they left Peter and Madeline in the kitchen.

  The warm glow of candles in the brick fireplace drew them to the corner, and they sat on the comfortable couch. This was familiar too, sitting with her on this deep couch in front of the hearth in her parents’ kitchen. He reached for her hand to squeeze it. His emotions threatened to engulf him now, and he cursed to himself, doubting the wisdom of coming here.

  “You know we’d make a great team.” He spoke in a creaking whisper, and she looked in his eyes as if searching for something. He knew what she’d find; he was transparent right now. But be damned—he wasn’t going to hide from her this time.

  “Yes, but politics is not a team sport.” She looked away and softened her tone. “I don’t know how to explain it any better than I already have so you’ll understand, but I’ll try.

  “I want to be my own person. I have a lot to offer as an individual. I don’t want the fact that I’m a woman to interfere or to matter—not to you or anyone. My role is about more than this campaign. It’s about defying conventions. I’m running as an independent to defy the two-party system—even if I don’t win. It has to be done. This system needs to be changed—maybe in baby steps. Eventually someone will win. But taking steps is necessary and I’m willing to do that.”

  “How very noble of you to sacrifice yourself this way. But it’s not just about that—you’ve already taken the step because you’re running the race. You could be my lieutenant governor without joining the party. Now that would make a statement.”

  “I don’t need your help to
make a statement.”

  “Ah, so it is about me.”

  “Why don’t you run as my lieutenant governor? You may be ahead of me in the polls now, but what if that changed? What if I went ahead? Would you be my lieutenant governor?” She paused for his answer. “No, I didn’t think so.” He must have looked as appalled as he felt at the notion. That was the price he paid for being unguarded.

  “Because I’m a woman and you’re who you are. Well, I want it to be about who I am.” She looked away. He’d never seen her look so charmingly defiant. He doubted she’d appreciate his reaction, but it was what it was.

  “You’re a frigging Pulitzer Prize winner and a Harvard professor for Christ’s sake. You’ve already blazed trails and accomplished plenty regardless of the fact that you’re a woman.” It was true, and he’d always been damned impressed by her. This was a much safer point to make than how he felt when she looked so vulnerable.

  She laughed, dispelling the tension, and let go of his hand.

  “I have my own ambitions. I’m not going to ever run with you, Peter. It would be the same thing as giving up my identity. It would be admitting that a woman’s role is to play second fiddle. As it is, there’s been enough damage done making this campaign more about sex appeal than anything else. I don’t want you taking over and overshadowing my political career. And I definitely do not want your infatuation to be the motivating engine of influence for anything that happens in my career—not if I can help it.”

  “One of these days you’ll learn that you can’t help it.” He said the words softly. She knew he was going to say those words the instant before he did. He could be right, but it didn’t matter. She still had to walk down her own road. Her smile must have encouraged him. He caressed her face with one hand and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  “In the meantime, there’s this other small matter. You see, I’m still madly in love with you and extremely attracted to you. And I don’t think you’re immune. What are we going to do about that? How do we work that into the equation?” He didn’t wait for her answer. He touched his lips to hers, softly at first. Then moving his fingers through her hair and cupping her head he deepened the kiss, devouring her mouth and nibbling her lips, stroking her with his tongue. She felt the pleasure. There was no thought of resistance or wrongness. He was right about this one small matter. The sigh of pleasure sounded more like a moan to her own ears. As he ended the kiss, pulling back only a breath away, she was surprised to discover that her hands were locked around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. She decided not to let go.

  They would definitely have to find a way to deal with this and the campaign. The most obvious solution was to put their relationship on hold until after the election—and then reassess. But that sounded so cold when she felt so warm.

  “Don’t tell me we’re not having this relationship until after the election.” He read her mind.

  “It’s only a month and a half away. You’re a big boy. You can handle it.”

  “I can handle it, all right. But I’m not inclined to. It’s not even wise politically to lie about our relationship.”

  “Oh? And you think it’s wise politically to become romantically involved with an opponent in a campaign for governor?” She disengaged her arms and sat back away from him. She knew where this was going—yet again. It seemed all conversational paths would lead to the same place—Peter telling her she should run with him. She took a deep breath to maintain her patience. It was important to not argue about this anymore and obvious that any further discussion was useless.

  “Don’t even say what you were going to say next. I disagree that my running as your lieutenant governor would solve everything. It may be your fondest dream, but it’s not a solution to the problem. There’s still that pesky notion about my fondest dream out there.” She smiled because he managed to look abashed.

  “Touché. It seems we’re at a stalemate. But I do have an idea about tonight. Let’s consider tonight as a night out of time—doesn’t count. Put the rest of the world on hold for this one night?” He sounded almost pleading. What he didn’t know was that she would have suggested the same thing if he hadn’t. It was a self-indulgence she needed, maybe even a test to see where she was with him emotionally. She could analyze it on an intellectual level forever, but the emotions had to be considered always. To go down a path ignoring emotions led inevitably to emotional problems and then physical problems too. She knew this only too well—and not only from her clinical experience with patients.

  If only she could know where Peter was emotionally. It was too easy to assume he was in the same place. She wanted to. In actuality, she realized she had no choice but to trust him that he was still madly in love with her.

  “We’ve got one night. But then I’m like Cinderella at the ball and I’ve got to disappear without a trace,” she said.

  “All right. I’ll come and claim you with your glass slipper after I’m crowned governor.” His cheeky grin betrayed the fact that the arrogance was meant to tease her. She slapped his arm, and he grabbed her hand to pull her in toward him. Her throaty chuckle faded as he enveloped her in a tight embrace and nibbled her earlobe, creating a zillion pinpoints of pleasure goose bumps across her skin.

  “Would you like to be my guest in the guest room this evening, Ms. Grace?” The suggestive invitation sent a shiver through her and at the same time a pool of melting warmth deep inside. She nodded in response because she found she could not speak.

  He felt like a teenager stealing through the house to the guest room, tugging Madeline by the hand. It was silly—her parents knew what to expect. They had long since retired to bed to give them the privacy they were obviously desperate to have. He looked at her as they entered the room. She looked how he felt—very warm, very tense and focused on ripping their clothes off to make wildly passionate, no-holds-barred love to her.

  He half dragged her onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. Her face landed a breath away from his. The pleasure of feeling and tasting her breath mingle with his alone add almost painful increments of tension. He shifted under her so she knew where he was, and her eyes widened. Not in surprise, but he hoped, in stunned anticipation. He chuckled as she nibbled his lips and caressed his face with her long lithe fingers in a feathery touch.

  “This is the kind of torture I’ve been dreaming about for…years, if the truth be told.” He looked at her, not sure of why he made such an admission. He hadn’t meant to. But she only smiled and took care to show only kindness and deference in her hooded eyes. He knew she would not speak, not unless he forced her. But that was okay because he could see exactly what was on her mind through her soul-deep eyes and the expression on her face. She would hide nothing from him when they made love. She allowed total vulnerability. It had scared him at first long ago, but now he craved it.

  Chapter 14

  “I know where you are. We should make a deal. Meet me at the Hatch Shell on the Charles at noon,” said the voice from the other end of the cell phone.

  “Who is this?” Peter sat up, fully awake now, and rose from the bed. He grabbed his pants as he moved toward the window to take a surreptitious look outside. His mind spun a thousand stories trying to figure what this was about, and it came down to one matter and one man.

  “No need to talk names—you just make sure you meet where I said or your girlfriend’s campaign is compromised the hard way.”

  “You tell the mayor for me he should worry about his own girlfriend.” There was a nervous chuckle on the other end. Peter couldn’t tell for sure who it was—or who this amateur was representing. The call went dead. Peter tossed the useless phone. He needed to talk to Acer right away. He needed an ultra-secure phone with no traceable number and he needed it fast.

  Even this amateurish attempt to sabotage Madeline’s campaign was disquieting. Or maybe they were after him too. He was confident that he could handle the meeting and take care of whatever they had for blackmail. But why did they g
o to all this trouble? What was at stake here that was so important they threatened him—or was it Madeline that was a threat?

  Knowing Mayor Torini, Peter was betting on money being at stake—and lots of it. But there was the intriguing prospect that a woman was pulling his strings. The ex-senator’s wife, Priscilla Brown might have an ax to grind about the Moroni murder case. And she definitely had not been very stable mentally the last time they met.

  Madeline stirred on the bed, and with a quick glance at the clock Peter decided it was early yet to be getting up. Acer could wait an hour. As he pulled his pants back off and slid back under the covers, reaching for her warm flesh and hearing her half moan with pleasure, he wondered if he should mention any of this to her and if so, what and how much?

  Then he stopped wondering and only felt. He felt her body up against his own, touching and pressing along her thighs and her breasts. He moved his hands over her belly to the hot crest between her thighs. He could smell the pungent aroma of her even before his fingertips found the creamy sting of heat at her already slick nub. He rumbled his satisfaction and felt the jolt of excitement. The mind-paralyzing intensity of desire thundered through him with the knowledge that she wanted him.

  “I think you’ve missed me terribly, Mad. What are you going to do without me?” She looked at him with her half-lidded eyes glazed and inviting. His temperature ratcheted up and he shook with his tension. “Forget that—what am I going to do without you?” he said. She purred a knowing smile at his words and touched him, stroked him and then licked his lips as she snuggled closer, throwing her leg over his hip. That was when he lost consciousness of the world at large.

  He took his cell phone into the bathroom with him. He needed to make contact with Acer. He tapped out a text leaving the tag line number that set up their contact time and place. Now he had to make time to get there. He still hadn’t mentioned anything to Madeline and he wouldn’t have a chance. He instantly decided she didn’t need to know, even as he mentally battled with her that this was the exact kind of well-meaning, overly controlling behavior that led to the end of their relationship six years before. Among other things—like the Moroni murder case. But he knew that was only one straw, albeit the final one. He knew she didn’t like his attitude that he knew what was best for her. It drove her crazy when he took it upon himself to make decisions without her.