“Sorry, Desperado, you missed him by five minutes.”
Duel grinned. Angie had always called him Desperado. No matter how often he reminded her of his name, she refused to call him anything else. She once warned him if he ever stopped wearing shit-kickers to the office, then she’d call him Slick. He preferred Desperado. “I wanted to congratulate him on his retirement, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I suppose he left early to beat the storm moving in or was he just avoiding good-byes?”
“A bit of both, I think. I guess he told you he was forced to retire. But you know Mac, he does hate driving on the ice, and the forecast sounds pretty grim. He wasn’t avoiding you, but…” Her voice trailed away and she shrugged rather pitifully.
Duel patted Angie on the shoulder. “How did he take it? Retiring early?”
Angie hesitated, then sighed. “Just as you imagine. I might as well tell you, you’ll hear it anyway. Mac was forced to leave the agency because he’s involved.”
“Involved?” Duel lifted a brow. “How so?”
She blinked like an owl behind the large frames of her glasses. “You know…involved,” she stressed.
“You mean he’s having an affair?” He whistled softly. “No way. Mac is nuts about Marie. He’d never cheat on her.”
“He has…he is. I saw the prescription for Viagra on his desk.” Her face turned bright pink at the statement. “I wasn’t snooping, but it was right there, plain as day when I placed some papers in front of him to sign.”
Duel laughed. “It doesn’t mean he’s cheating on Marie. Hell, sounds to me like Mac was keeping Marie a happy woman.”
Angie shook her head. “No. You don’t know what it’s been like here. The rumor mill is hot. You know as well as I…where there’s smoke…besides, Mac was caught in a compromising clutch with the woman. Marie found out about them and her being Latin and all with that hot temper, she left him and filed for divorce. She won’t even talk to Mac.”
“Who’s the woman?”
“Humph!” Angie shoved her glasses back in place and shook her silver head. Her blue eyes snapped with annoyance. “Trouble, that’s what she is. Uses her walk, I tell you, parading around in those tight skinny skirts and spiky heels, making eyes at all the men.” She patted her smooth hair, checking for loose strands that might have dared to escape the tight chignon she’d scraped it into. “I never bothered to go to the trouble to find out her name. We don’t run in the same circles, if you know what I mean.” She sniffed with righteous indignation. “She hasn’t worked here long…just long enough to sink her red-painted talons in poor Mac. It cost him his job, his wife, and all the males are panting after her like she’s a bitch in heat…the secretary, not poor Marie.”
Duel grinned. “I’m sure Marie is thankful, too.”
She paused and flashed her burning gaze over him. “You watch out for yourself, Desperado. That woman’s a money-hungry, gold-digging little tart if ever there was one.”
Angie walked around her desk, unlocked the top drawer and retrieved her gray leather purse. “Just yesterday, I saw with my own eyes, Mac pushing a wad of bills in her hand. Course, she acted all smarmy like, pretended she didn’t want it, but in the end, she walked away stuffing the money in that push-up, thirty-four C-cup…all that cleavage…and it was all hundreds.”
Duel blinked. “Hundreds?” He’d got lost somewhere between the C-cup and the cleavage. Damn, he’d always been a boob man. Thirty-four C—more than a mouthful— lucky Mac.
“I know there was at least a thousand dollars,” Angie said, “if not more, ‘cause I got him the cash out of his safe…two thousand bucks. He hadn’t been anywhere to spend it…all hundreds, I tell you. I bet he gave every dime of it to her, too. No wonder poor Marie left him.”
“Huh.” Okay. Leaving the cup size and cleavage behind, Duel managed to jerk his mind back to the conversation with Angie. “Why did he give her money?”
“You know I don’t like to gossip—”
“I know, Angie.” Duel’s lips twitched.
“—and I wouldn’t say a word if I wasn’t worried about Mac, you know that.”
“I do.”
“But I tell you, it doesn’t look good.” She flipped off the light and followed him out the door.
“You know how rumors spread here, Angie, half the time that’s exactly what it is…gossip and lies.”
“I know, and any other time I’d agree with you, Desperado. But yesterday, Mac and that tramp spent the entire afternoon away from here, and it wasn’t the first time, either. When they got back, that hussy’s lips were bare, that red-devil hair of hers all mussed, you know…like there’d been a lot of tussling in bed.” She lowered her voice. “Sex in the afternoon, a man his age and with a young woman…why, it’s a wonder poor Mac doesn’t drop dead from a heart attack.”
Duel kept his face sober. “But think what a happy man he’d be, Ange, dying in paradise.”
Angie paused to glare at him. “This is no joke, Desperado. I’m dead serious here. They came back and that evil woman…well,” she lowered her voice, “she wasn’t wearing her bra or her hose. You tell me what you think they were doing for three hours…and her return here without her lip-gloss on, bare-legged, and her boobs unharnessed.” She sniffed. “Disgraceful, I tell you. Course, they’re so firm, one can hardly tell the difference, but a lady doesn’t go out in public without her harness, lip-gloss, or her hose. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he was paying her good money for. Poor Mac, like I said, you watch out for her.”
Duel coughed and knew he dare not let Angie hear him laugh. Poor Mac, indeed, he should be so lucky. “Just how firm are they?”
“What?” Angie blinked.
“You said they’re firm. I assume you’re talking about the thirty-four Cs.”
“Land’s sake, Desperado, I’d never say something like that. How would I know if they’re firm or not? But don’t you worry ‘bout how compact that hussy’s breasts are. She’s trouble with a capital T.”
“I’ll be on guard.” Duel made a cross with his fingers. “I’ll ward her away. I promise.” Quickly, he bid Angie goodbye and left her to lock Mac’s office and go her own way. He headed down the corridor toward the row of elevators. Wow. He couldn’t believe his old friend had let a woman cost him his wife and job, but it was none of his business.
Anyway, he was too tired to dwell on it. Mac was old enough to live with his mistakes, and the price he paid for them.
Duel smothered a yawn. God, he didn’t think he’d ever been this mentally or physically exhausted. Angie’s chatter and gossip had pulled him out his slump momentarily, but for sure, he didn’t feel like pushing his way through hordes of people all trying to squeeze inside the first available elevator going down, not when he needed to go up two floors to the sixth floor.
He rubbed the back of his neck where a steady ache reminded him he was on the edge. There’d been enough stress in his family the last few days to break anyone. Weary to the bone, the fluorescent lighting aggravated the tension headache that had settled between his eyes hours ago. Nothing he took knocked it. He had a feeling the only thing that was going to give him relief was a solid twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep. Something that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.
The nerves in his stomach jittered. It felt like a million ants raced around willy-nilly in his gut. The strain of the last ten days was finally catching up with him. Any minute now, he expected to crash and burn.
Duel scratched the stubble covering his jaws and chin. He frowned. Whiskers? Hell, when had he last shaved? He probably looked like an outlaw on a wanted poster.
Mac’s secretary nicknamed him Desperado, referring to a television series from the 80s. She’d said not only did he remind her of the actor, Alex McArthur, who played Desperado at the time, but that Duel was the same as the character McArthur portrayed, tough when he had to be, plain-spoken and dangerous.
Angie had a habit of comparing him to one o
utlaw or another, but since he’d never watched the Desperado series, he couldn’t agree or disagree. However, he was pretty sure that at the moment, he looked the part.
Stroking a fingertip along the thick stubble of his jaw, he winced. No wonder Angie had said he looked like crap. Hell, he felt like shit. But life, normal routine anyway, had screeched to a halt when the plane his sister Dianna was flying crashed somewhere in Western Australia with one passenger aboard, Taylor Spencer. Not knowing if either of them survived was like having a thorn shoved in his heart—a steady pain that never ceased.
Just hours before the incident, his eldest brother Jace was shot by the notorious serial killer, Smitt Davis. Jace had nearly died from the gunshot wound. His brother was now home at the Dancing Star ranch, having been released from the hospital, but his complete recovery was going to take time.
Lacey Blackstone was another victim of Davis. The poor woman had barely survived the violent attack on her by the insane killer. Yeah. Sleep had become a luxury. Duel couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s slumber or a decent meal.
He eyed the throng of people who’d massed around the elevators and wished fervently he could simply find a quiet corner somewhere and close his eyes. Impatient to get to the floor he needed to be on, he knew he’d used up his quota of tolerance just flying to D.C. He sighed. Ordinarily there wouldn’t be this big a crowd so early, waiting for the elevators, but several of the various offices on the fourth floor were shutting down in anticipation of the blizzard moving in from the west. In a few hours, the streets and highways would be too slick for any sane person to risk driving. Those who drove home wanted to beat the predicted arrival of sleet and snow, including his friend, Mac Bradshaw.
Duel frowned at the horde. Nothing left to do now but track down Travis Bradley, his current partner, then report to the boss, Samantha Rivers. Feeling edgy and not keen on waiting with the pack jammed around the elevators, nevertheless, he joined the throng and tried not to let his annoyance show as he waited his turn. If he wasn’t so dog-tired, he’d take the stairs.
He figured some of the urgency of the swarm waiting impatiently wasn’t all related to the snowstorm headed their way. There was always an important dinner party somewhere in D.C., and most of the social climbers were willing to risk life and limb to make the guest list at any one of them.
Distaste curled through his gut. The last thing he wanted was to attend a formal dinner on an icy night. But when Samantha Rivers issued one of her special invitations—secretly coded, Be there or else—one didn’t ignore it. His gut told him she planned on their attending some party. His mind rebelled at the thought. He might have been a little more receptive if the past week or so hadn’t been so harrowing, but it wasn’t over yet.
Wait-wait-wait—it’s all he did—wait for good news—bad news. Hell, no wonder he was ready to crack. Hope for his sister’s survival trickled away by the hour. Dianna and Taylor had been missing for too long now. A couple more days, and the odds of their surviving took a steep decline, from zero, to minus zero.
Wild, his younger brother, had phoned him the night before. Wild would never give up searching, but his brother’s voice sounded thin and strained. The pressure of locating the plane, possibly even Dianna and Taylor’s bodies, was beginning to beat him down too.
“The officials are calling off the search after tomorrow,” Wild reported. “They haven’t seen a sign of the plane, Duel. They don’t think Dianna or Taylor’s alive.”
“What does Raider say?” Duel knew damned well their Australian cousin wouldn’t call off the search, not as long as there was any hope at all, but there were only so many hours one could stay in the air when there were thousands of miles to cover, and fuel was costly.
“That Silver and Colt will keep searching until there’s no place left to search. But you and I both know the quest can’t go on indefinitely. Raider has Damnboola to run, and Jesus, it’s a big fucking place. Have you ever seen all of it?”
“Once. It makes Dancing Star look like a petting zoo.”
“The country…the land…it’s mesmerizing. I tell you, it gets under a man’s skin.”
“I know. Tell Raider thanks for whatever time he can spare, and I’ll see to it he’s reimbursed for the cost of fuel for the planes.”
Wild sighed into the phone. “I already tried to pay him. He refused the money.”
“Of course he did.” Duel felt as hopeless as Wild sounded. “We’re family. Raider loves Dianna, too.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said just before he decked me for offering him the money. I have to go. I’ll call again as soon as I have something to report.”
Duel laughed. “Raider punched you?”
“I didn’t feel a thing. He hits like a sissy.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah.” Wild groaned. “I think he broke my jaw.”
“Uh-huh. He and Jace pack the same mean wallop. Next time, duck.”
“Count on it,” Wild said and broke the connection.
Duel worried his lower lip. What a mess. The only bright note in all of it was the fact that Taylor was with Dianna. He didn’t care much for the man. Kaycee’s brother had a lot of anger and resentment to work through, and most of the man’s antagonism was directed at Jace and Dianna. He understood why Taylor disliked Jace, but he couldn’t figure out what the man had against Dianna. His sister had never done anything to the man, but Kaycee’s brother was a bitter soul, and for some reason, Dianna and Taylor riled each other. No matter, Duel preferred someone be with her than for her to be alone in the Australian wilds—defenseless—possibly injured. Taylor was better than nothing. One thing was sure—Kaycee didn’t need this. Because of that bastard Smitt Davis, Kaycee and Jace—all of them had been through hell.
Truth to tell, he’d rather be in Australia helping with the rescue search than here in McLean waiting for Sam’s next orders to filter down the line. His mind wasn’t on espionage, but his job didn’t allow him to play by the rules. It wasn’t something he could merely refuse when an assignment came through, or ignore the boss when she called.
Jesus, he was getting too old for this shit! He’d lost his edge. Either that or the job had lost the thrill and the challenge it once held. These days, it felt tarnished. The things he’d seen and done had left an inkblot on his soul, and he didn’t think it’d ever go away. Even the casino he owned and operated in Reno had lost its appeal.
The only reason he’d bought it in the first place was to work undercover to bring down a company installing slot machines in the casinos that paid strictly to their company. Someone with a powerful arm and a connection to nearly every casino had assisted them, using the social establishments and their electric, using casino coins without the owner or player making a dime. It had taken him the better part of two years to track down the inside man, but just before Jace was shot, Duel had cracked the case.
As soon as he’d solved the case in Reno, he’d left immediately, handing the reins of the business over to Grace Holland, his assistant manager. Returning home to Dancing Star had made him feel alive and whole again.
But he was tired of being alone, of living life on the brink of disaster. Ah well, at least he didn’t have to worry about a wife. He had no prospects, not even a steady girlfriend. There sure wasn’t much point in thinking about a wife and kids. Right now, he was married to the job, even if he did plan a divorce in the near future.
The elevator dinged. The doors swished open and the next group crowded into the cramped space of the car. He looked around, amazed to see he was the only person left waiting, but he refused to jam inside an overloaded elevator. Duel jabbed the up button and waited—again.
A slight rustle down the hall behind him snagged his attention. He thought everyone from this floor had left. Curious, Duel turned and watched a woman back out of an open doorway. She paused, her profile to him. There was something taut and angry in her stance, as if she was fed up and ready to give in to
her temper.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Neil?” she said, her voice threaded with irritation. “I don’t date co-workers.”
“No one said anything about a date, honey,” the unseen Neil replied from inside the office. “I just want to sample the merchandise you’re peddling to Mac.”
Her slender body stiffened. “I don’t sleep with coworkers either.”
“You’re such a pretty liar. Everyone knows you’re putting out to Mac and have been for the last few months.”
She clenched her fists. “I’m a liar? You’re the one who spreads tales.”
Laughter. “I’m not the one who busted up Mac’s marriage. Hey, doll face, we’ve all seen you dining together, seen you walking in the park, his arm around your shoulders. You two look pretty damn cozy.”
“I can take walks with whomever I please. It’s called freedom of choice.”
“It’s called afternoon delight. I have an apartment in Langley, not too far from here, same as Mac. Now that he’s retired, wadda ya say I take up the slack? Why not meet me later tonight, let me test the goods?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she snapped.
“I can get a hundred bitches just like you.” Neil had obviously lost his patience.
Duel snorted. Good old Neil Turner was on a roll. He knew the man. Neil had always been a loser.
“Be my guest. I’m not stopping you.” The woman sounded furious, and who could blame her?
“You might look like a great fuck, but you’re cold as a fish. I bet Mac can’t even get his rocks off riding you.”
“You have a filthy mouth to match your mind,” she said. Her voice sounded shaky.
Duel’s temper shot up another notch. Damn. It was none of his business, but he didn’t like Neil’s words or tone.
“You want to be careful, Neil…the boss frowns on sexual harassment. You crossed the line several words back.” Her voice could have frozen ice cubes. “I’m warning you, say another word to me, and I swear I’ll make you eat them.” She slammed the door, stood there a moment, her fists clenched, breasts heaving with rage. Finally gaining control, she turned to her right and took off down the hall in the opposite direction from where Duel watched and listened.
Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) Page 2
