“Likewise. I’m Galaxy, this is Lee. So you know who the vandal is then? Seems like someone was sending a message,” Gal observed.
“Message received,” Anita sighed, annoyed.
“Is this related to the previous threats?” Lee asked.
Tom looked at Anita. “We believe so. Guess we have no choice but to cancel the luncheon, especially after receiving that call about power interruption tomorrow.”
“What call? Did you trace the line?” Lee asked, concerned.
“Of course. It appears to be legit, automated by PEPCO for a 3 a.m. kill while they update transformers.”
“We have generators, but we aren't taking any chances,” Anita explained.
“It does sound suspicious. Hey, what size cake was it?” Gal asked suddenly.
“What does that matter? Except for the size of the mess,” Lee wondered, looking around.
“A twelve inch tapered three tier. Not quite enough for our guest list.”
“Do you have the box it came in? We can trace it back to the bakery, find out who ordered it,” Gal suggested.
Anita shook her head. “The cake was delivered directly to the garden on a cart, a day earlier than expected. We don't use a bakery. A woman who works in your building comes in and does incredible creations for us, right here on the premises. Francine Bach's an old friend, been our special cake provider for years. You don't think she's a suspect, do you?”
“No, I know her as well,” Gal said. “ I didn't realize she had a side business.”
“It's possible the explosion is separate from the bakery source,” Lee suggested.
Tom nodded in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. I’m sure the cake is a dummy since it arrived early. We're having the surveillance footage checked now.”
Just then an officer approached, a fistful of wires sprouting from his palm. “Looks like they cut the cameras. You're lucky, no other damage is apparent. This was most likely a warning.”
“Thanks, Max. We're beefing up security.” Anita glared at Tom.
“On it.” Nodding adieu, he sprinted off to inform the National Security Council.
“We'll look into the leads. Thanks for your time,” Galaxy promised. On the walk back to the car, she gazed at the portico. “Too bad we can’t sneak inside and start searching for that diary.”
“I know, I wish we could since we're already here and all. But we can't leave Harold much longer.” Lee unlocked the car. Climbing in, he nearly had a conniption. “Holy Avatar!”
Gal was about to sit when she noticed the interior splotched with blue frosting, and then to her horror, so was the dog.
“That damn cupcake!” Lee scowled. “Why didn't you throw it out?'
“I forgot all about it.” She tore open a dozen wet wipes, going to town on the headliner and seats.
Lee tackled Hal's fur, but icing and moist crumbs matted in clumps. “I hope my sister has a good groomer.”
When they cleaned what they could, only smearing it in the process, Lee headed for Alexandria, peeved. “And I need a good detailer. Not a good day for cake!”
“I thought it was safe in the container. I'll pay for the damage but can we agree Fitzy is the culprit today? Sarah told me he ordered a fancy number yesterday instead of his usual special, upping the ante for a date.”
“Weird, especially for a lowly dog walker. And that van peeling away was suspicious! I wish I got a good look at the driver. I think there was a male passenger too. And your lunch lady friend—I bet she's Franny! Seems like an awful coincidence and she fits the age bracket.”
“Yeah, I didn't know she had connections to the White House. Sounds like a perfect way in. Now that we got her full name, we can search it.”
“And don't forget overhearing Anita's complaint about Fitz's bomb threat in the first place. It all adds up.”
Chapter Sixteen
T he dizzying pattern of the parquet floor whirled in and out of view as they waltzed around the ballroom. Lee's mind seemed to have fled, but his feet were painfully present.
Gal flinched until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She tapped his shoulder. “Still mad?”
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, snapping out of his daze. “It just pisses me off. I keep going over it in my head.”
“Fitz, my snooping or the messy Mustang?” she cringed, not sure she wanted to know.
“All of the above, but mostly Fitz. If he was fake, why waste our time with all that DNA nonsense?” They whisked a rounded corner. “Something keeps bugging me. He's a diversion for something but what?”
“Speaking of bugs, whatever happened to that Urdu lead? That seemed to fall off a cliff.”
“Oh, right. The convention left town. Nothing more than peace talks after all. I wired the undersides of the tablecloths, so I guess those got washed. And Anita's phone has been oddly quiet ever since the blast. I should be hearing every conversation she has in her office, including phone calls. Do you suppose she found the device?”
“Police and bomb squad swept every inch of the place yesterday. They had to have confiscated it.” The music ended, and they clapped politely along with the crowd, heading toward their table to catch their breath.
“Of course, why didn't I think of that? Oh yeah, probably because my car looked like the inside of a frosting can,” he teased. “Well, the good part is, I suppose the device will blend in as evidence.” They sat out the next dance, a jazzy rendition of In the Mood.
Gal guzzled champagne, sighing at the irony as Lee tinkered with his smartphone. “How's your triceps?”
“Practically good as new, thanks. Hey, so Francine checked out. Widowed. Husband retired Navy then stayed in the area as a deputy project manager. Two kids the conventional way. The closest thing adopted was a springer spaniel. Oh, and a Belgium exchange student.”
“Are you sure Fitz isn't Belgian?”
“Not unless his real name is Geerta Van Den Smet.”
Sharing a chuckle, she smugged, “Good, I knew Francine was too nice to be shady.”
“What about Sarah? They did find a flap of her woodland green box under a rose bush, so it does seem to be her handiwork. Maybe she's an accessory. Did she seem sketchy?”
“No, she was adorable. Why would she jeopardize her business? Besides, Sarah voluntarily disclosed all her order logs to police.” Gal didn't want to talk about work, so she tried to play footsy. Lee shifted his legs, mistaking her cue as a sign that his were in the way. She sighed, resting her chin in one hand. She had hoped they would be more touchy-feely. This was supposed to be their romantic night after all, but it seemed more like a business deal.
“Watch out for the elephant,” she warned, swirling a finger around the rim of her glass, making it moan a haunting hum.
Lee looked confused then regretful. “I was stepping all over your feet, wasn't I?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I meant.” She submerged her lips in champagne, and the words became a muffled mouthful. When he questioned her with a befuddled frown, she continued. “Look,” she said, setting down the drink. “This is our big date, and normally we'd be all over each other. We might as well be in different time zones.”
“Yeah, you're right,” he sighed, glad it was finally out in the open. “Yesterday was the first time we didn't spend together—I missed you,” he added quickly, in case he insulted her with what he was about to say. “But it was also a relief because I needed a breather. I could tell you did too, after that confrontation in your office.”
“Yes, we needed time to think. Our relationship flipped from partners to lovers so fast, and it's been intense ever since. I'm not objecting. It's been really hot. But then the Bombykol...”
“Exactly. We went from zero to sixty then jarred to a screeching halt. I think what we're feeling is whiplash.” He stared spellbound at the sparkling bubbles climbing his glass. “Now we need to decide if we should let it end us or if we’re strong enough to overcome it. The other day, we admitted somethi
ng pretty wonderful. Do you still feel that way?” He saw sadness in her eyes, but perhaps a speck of love if he wasn't mistaken. Or maybe this was just a hot and heavy one week stand.
“I'm not sure. I can't help thinking the reason we aren't pawing each other now is because the pheromones aren't in the picture.”
He took a swig of bubbly. “Was it all jaded? Yeah, that crossed my mind too, but I'm hoping that's not true. Unless Andle was right, and it works on a mind over matter basis. Or lack thereof, in our case.” He raised his hand. “I solemnly swear my innocence on the state of Texas. Can you say the same?”
“Sure, I can swear on the state of Texas,” she bantered, still tracing the edge of her glass.
“Swear on your homeland, or it doesn't count,” he chuckled. He caressed her hand. “I'm not sure what role that stuff played with us, but I do know I'm not ready for it to end yet. If at all. Are you?”
The band started an upbeat Samba.
Gal closed her eyes, the gesture also a test of touch. Was there anything left between them? His thick hands usually made her swoon, his virility tripping her switch. Detecting the faint pulse of her thumping heart, she knew the monster was alive, if only just barely!
Lee felt it too. “Is this a good sign? Or is it the beat?” He stood, pulling her onto the dance floor to Baila Casanova made famous by Paulina Rubio.
This time Lee's feet frolicked in flirtatious form. Gal enjoyed the twirling tease, their bodies mingling for an instant before being drawn into a pirouette.
“I never told you what a beautiful goddess you are tonight,” Lee said when she was back in his arms a few seconds later.
Gal smiled, glad he liked the satin Athena style accentuating her curves, but before she could respond, she was extended, outstretched within his reach.
The glint of sequins caught her eye, and she noticed some women wore shorter dresses with fringe that shimmied with the motion. Even some of the men were decked in Latin flair in form-fitting slacks and bedazzled tops with open chests.
Ballroom dancing used to be more proper. She wished she dressed for flirty fun, but she didn't want to attract too much attention, so she chose demure over glitz. Her ecru gown had a subtle gold floral pattern cascading down the bodice with a gilded spacer belt, and at least the side slit added an enticing element. Plus the folds in the fabric doubled as secret inside pockets.
Back in his arms, she admired his classic black and white tuxedo and couldn't help smiling at his turquoise pocket square. “Thanks, you’re dapper yourself.” Then again, you always are.
When Lee dipped her at the end of the number, her heart quickened. Not only because of their sensual duet but because upside down, she thought she saw someone sinister by the punch bowl.
She excused herself to powder her nose. Her motive was artificial—she thought she had spotted Viktor hovering near the hors d'oeuvres. What was the cad doing here? If he was back in the states, he was up to no good. She was sure he was there to step on her toes. Scanning the area around the buffet table, and only spotting the regular ballroom crowd, she darted off behind the scenes.
Nothing was amiss. Gal almost expected to see him crouching on the catwalk, hiding amid curtain pulls, sandbags and ropes.
A faded memory came into focus... Stanislavsky Theatre, fifteen years ago, practicing for their first mission together. He was mentoring, eight years older, training her at the tender age of twenty-two, before becoming involved romantically two years later...
But everything here was clearly in order. She checked the restrooms for good measure, sustaining odd looks from several men, and a business card from another when she peeked inside.
Had she hallucinated? Was the mere mention of Katjarina triggering flashbacks, or had she had too much to drink? She supposed it could have been anyone since lots of men were her height with long black hair, high foreheads and trimmed goatees that framed their rugged handsomeness. If only she got a closer look, she could identify the unmistakable scar across his right cheekbone—left by the pear-shaped prongs of her three-carat ring when he broke off their engagement. And that missing right earlobe would be a dead giveaway—damage done by a Siberian wolf four years ago while he was in hiding. He had proudly killed it and mounted it as a trophy in his cabin.
She ladled what she hoped was virgin punch and surveyed the ballroom. If he wasn't here, why was her mind playing games? Maybe she wasn't over her first love after all. Was anyone? She sipped, tapping her foot to the post-World War II jazz melody.
Arms quietly wrapped around her waist. “Parched?”
Startled, the cocktail splattered on the floor, spraying a random red design on the hem of her gown.
“Didn’t mean to spook you,” Lee apologized, blotting the puddle with his pocket square. He straightened. “Everything okay? I didn't crunch your toes again, did I?”
Gal smiled. “No, you're a gallant dancer.”
As proof, Lee broke out in exaggerated, absurd gestures, matching the schizophrenic beat of trumpets and drums, even imitating a sax player. When the piece ended, he wiped his brow and scooped punch of his own. “Spiked?” he offered with a devilish grin.
Gal nodded, eyes wide, giving him a wary expression. “You're a loon.”
“Just trying to impress you with my sax appeal.”
She smiled, shaking her head.
“Hey, just loosening things up. You’re so serious. What's wrong? I thought we were reconnecting back there.”
“No, we were. It's not you. It's just that… I thought I saw Viktor.”
It was Lee's turn to look guarded. Him again?
“I know, it's crazy, but if he's prowling around, something is very wrong.”
“Where did you see him?” He plucked a mini éclair from a doily. The band started Marc Anthony's Dimelo as the Cha-Cha began.
“Here, by the refreshment table.”
Lee eyed the treat, having second thoughts. “I hope he wasn't poisoning anything.”
“That’s not his style. He's more of an explosives kind of guy.”
“Well, that makes me feel better,” he huffed, tossing the sweet into the waste bin anyway. “I think we should do a perimeter check.”
“I suppose you're right. You never know with villains.” She took his cup and swept all the goodies in the trash as a plump woman approached a pastry.
“Hey, I wanted that,” she protested.
“We're doing you a favor,” Lee began, but she misunderstood and slapped his face.
“Ma'am, these treats have been compromised.”
When she looked cynical, Gal whispered, “Rat infestation.” The woman hurried away appalled, apologizing profusely to Lee.
“You deserved that,” she giggled.
“Are you sure it was even him?” he asked, rubbing his cheek.
“Well…not entirely. I was upside down.”
“Oh geez,” Lee grimaced. “Really?” He was already pouring a red river into the plastic lined pail.
“Sorry, but my vibes usually mean something. We should still check around.”
“Women's intuition will kill me yet,” he muttered, following her to their table.
Gal gave the description they needed. “We'll cover more ground if we split up,” she suggested, concealing her compact gun in the creases of her dress.
“Will you be alright? You were distraught by just the idea of him. Take your cell so we can communicate.”
She was in the process of tucking it in already and held it up.
“Not taking your purse?”
“A clutch is too cumbersome.”
“Well, good thing you have breasts then.”
An hour later they slunk into the ballroom looking beat, Gal lugging her strappy heels, Lee's tie unknotted. The band was at the tail end of the sexy number, Suit and Tie, by Timberlake and Jay Z.
“Not a trace. Any luck?” Lee inquired, pulling out her chair as they returned to their table.
“Nope, probably just dizzy. I'm sorry
for the wild goose chase. I owe you one.” She emptied her pleats and refilled her purse.
“I think we're even. I wrecked your dress.”
She examined the bottom quarter edge. “That's okay. I have an excellent dry cleaner.”
“Lucky, mine's mediocre.”
She chuckled. “I feel bad for destroying the desserts, though.”
“They replenished everything. See, everyone's happy.”
“Including us?” She reached out and stroked his arm.
“I think this is our song.” He stood, inviting her to a slow body meld to Lady in Red.
They enjoyed the closeness, amused at their inside joke.
“I missed our mingling,” Lee uttered, the deep vibrations taking the edge off.
“Me too,” she admitted, closing her eyes against his shoulder, the safe feelings returning.
“You know, I've been thinking, and now I'm sure pheromones were working their magic on us.”
Gal lifted her head, tightening her jaw. “You've got to be kidding me!”
“We emit our own natural chemicals, right? That should’ve occurred to me during our fight.”
She exhaled in relief. “That's true. I guess we both got defensive.”
“Let's forget the past.”
“Deal.” Sealing it with a soft kiss, their bodies seemed to agree. Gal felt the familiar firmness pressing against her. “He's baaack.”
Lee tensed, his first thought leaping to her imaginary invader but then felt her hand on his party crasher. “Yes, and he's got a full tank.”
“Perfect, I could go all night,” she murmured. “Want to ditch this band stand?”
“Since I want to take you under the table right now, that's a hard yes. I have a room. Reserved it when I gave you the invite in case we drank too much, or just didn't feel like going home.”
“I like your thinking, Cowboy.” She frisked his tux, fishing out a pair of room keys, tucking one inside her bra.
“You know that situation I'm always in that you like ribbing me about?”
“Yes, this corundum conundrum? You're a diamond in the rough,” she whispered, enjoying the challenge of touching him in public.
Behind Frenemy Lines Page 13
