Claudia laughed, remembering her grandmother shaking a broom at her grandfather. A lot.
“And I have faith that you can work out this man trouble on your own.” Her grandmother looked down, surprised. “No more peas. We made short work of that, yes?”
“Glad I could help, but it’s time for me to head back out.”
“You can’t stay?”
“No time. I could only make time for a quick visit today, but I’ll come by again as soon as I can.”
“Call ahead next time.”
“I will, I promise. Tell Mami I was here, okay?”
“You should stay for dinner, tell her yourself.”
“I really can’t. I have a lot of work to catch up on, and—” Her cell phone started vibrating. “Hold on. I’ve got a call.”
She pulled out her phone and smiled when she saw Vincent’s number. “Hey, you. Did you get my message?”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me know you arrived safely.”
Just hearing his voice stirred a delicious little tingle, which she quickly squashed. One should not feel such tingles while sitting with an eagle-eyed grandmother.
“But I also wanted to let you know they found your buddy Digger Brody.”
“Alive?”
“Yup. The cops had hauled him in on a drunk and disorderly.”
“I’m shocked, I tell you. Shocked.”
“You still want to talk to him?”
“Absolutely.” She glanced at her watch, already justifying the trip in her mind. She would’ve spent what was left of today and most of tomorrow in her hotel room reading files, and she could just as easily do that on a plane. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll get the earliest available flight back to Philly. Will you have any trouble keeping him in lockup until I get there?”
“I’ll make sure he’s going nowhere. But won’t you catch hell from your boss for coming back here?”
She heard his surprise. “Not if I make the trip short enough, and it’s for an ongoing case. It’s not like I’m returning just for—” She cut herself off. While Granny barely spoke English, she had no trouble understanding it. “I have to behave. I’m here with my grandma.”
“Your grandma?” Vincent sounded startled.
“Why so surprised?”
“Not surprised, just . . . it’s nice of you to visit your grandma. That’s very sweet. Say hello to her for me.”
Grinning a little sheepishly, Claudia glanced at her grandmother sitting beside her all but vibrating with curiosity, and said, “Vincent says hello, Abuelita.”
“Is this Vincent your new boyfriend?” When Claudia nodded, Granny Consuela smiled and said, “He sounds like a good man, to think of an old lady like me. You tell him I said that.”
Grin widening, Claudia said, “Abuelita said to tell you that you’re a good boy.”
“No she didn’t; I heard what she said and I know enough Spanish to tell the difference between hombre and niño. But I’m flattered. I know how hard it is to impress grandmas. They’re a brutal bunch.” She could hear the humor in his voice. “All right, then. I gotta run. Give me a call when your plane gets in. I’ll pick you up at the terminal, and we can go have a little fun with Digger Brody.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Saturday, Seattle
Ron Levine’s latest update about the missing guide in Peru—still missing, and with every hour less likely to be found alive—had left Ben in a foul mood.
Lately he’d been finding it harder to shake the encroaching frustration. Pacing up and down his office, past the wall of windows, he tried to work out his tensions. When he heard the door open, he spun so fast that Ellie took a step back in surprise.
“What?” he snapped.
“Ben, I’ve got Mia Dolan, Will’s fiancée, on the phone, and you need to talk to her right now. Will’s in jail in London, something about him threatening to bomb Harrods and—”
“He threatened to bomb Harrods? ” Ben interrupted, incredulous, as he strode toward his desk. “Why? Didn’t he like the selection of cuff links? What the hell was—”
“Ben!” Ellie’s uncharacteristic sharpness stopped him short. “Mia says von Lahr and Vanessa Sharpton started the trouble.”
Ben snatched up the phone handset. “Mia, this is Sheridan. What’s going on?”
“Thank you for speaking with me. Will said I had to get this information to you immediately because he’s going to be in custody for a while and he couldn’t tell you himself.”
“You did the right thing. Is he all right?” Terrorism threats were taken very seriously these days. Tiernay was lucky if he hadn’t been beaten within an inch of his life.
“Security was rough on him, but he’s okay.” Ben could hear the trembling in her voice.
“What exactly happened?”
“I didn’t see everything. A man started shouting about bombs and terrorists, and next thing I knew people were screaming and running all around. I looked for Will and saw him struggling with the security officers. He was trying to explain, but they wouldn’t listen. They kept shouting at him to get down, and they pushed him to the floor. God, I thought they were going to kill him. I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”
Considering only a few short months ago she’d been held captive in a building rigged to explode, that said a lot. “Are you all right? Did they take you into custody?”
“No . . . well, I had to go with the constables, but after they searched Will and me and didn’t find any bombs, they let me go. I’m not sure why they’re still being so difficult, but Will thinks they’re just being cautious and I shouldn’t be too upset about it.”
“Did he explain the situation to the constables?”
She sighed. “He tried as best he could. He said it was this von Lahr who yelled about bombs to get Will into trouble. They didn’t believe him. I suppose it sounds a bit far-fetched.”
“You’ve done everything you can. I’ll take it from here.” Ben hesitated. “By the way, did either Sharpton or von Lahr see you? Think carefully, Mia. It’s very important.”
“I don’t think so,” she answered after a moment. “But I can’t be positive about that. All my attention was focused on Will.”
“Can you verify it was Vanessa Sharpton?”
“No, sorry. By the time I realized what was happening and why, they’d disappeared. But Will is positive it was Vanessa. He had a good look, and there’s no way he could’ve made a mistake about this.”
“Get on a plane back to the States right away. I have associates in London who’ll get Will out of custody as soon as possible. In the meantime, you need to take yourself out of the picture. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Will already told me the same thing. I’ll be on the next available flight to Boston.”
After disconnecting, Ben stared at the phone for a moment.
Von Lahr. What was that sonofabitch doing in London? He was well-known by British law officials, so it was an incredible risk for him to be there, especially if he was hauling around a woman who was supposed to be dead.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Jesus, this was going to be a mess, and by now von Lahr had certainly hightailed it out of the city.
Of course, that’s what von Lahr would expect him to think. Frowning, Ben looked up. “Did you already log that call from Mia?”
Ellie looked puzzled. “Of course, it’s the—”
“I know. SOP. It’s okay.” He mulled over his options, few as they were, then said, “I’ll take care of this myself. Please hold all calls until I say otherwise.”
He waited until she’d closed the door behind her before pulling up his email program and swore softly when he saw the message already waiting for him.
“That was quick. Don’t trust me to behave, do you?” he muttered and clicked it open.
As always, it was short and to the point:
You will not go to London. Until we determine how VL was able to find WT, we will assume this was an attempt to draw yo
u into the open. The encounter with WT may have been accidental, but we feel this is unlikely. We will take care of the matter. You need do nothing on your end.
Ben understood the cautious reasoning behind the email order, even if he didn’t like it.
Had Tiernay been careless enough to allow von Lahr to tail him? That was unlikely, as unlikely as an accidental meeting in one of the world’s most exclusive department stores.
Then again, both von Lahr and Tiernay were fastidious dressers. If they were to accidentally encounter each other, it would be over a rack of expensive clothes.
He reread the email message. Orders were orders, but this was bullshit. If he wanted to go to London, he’d go. She couldn’t fire him. If von Lahr was trying to draw him out and start a fight, fine by him. It was a long time coming.
Decision made, he quickly called several acquaintances in London, one of whom promised to get Will Tiernay out of jail—and then keep him out of any more trouble until Ben could have a chat with him. Ordinarily Ben would cut Tiernay a little slack with this recent habit of mixing work with his personal life—the man was on a private project and newly engaged—but any encounter with von Lahr was a game changer.
Once he finished up with Tiernay, Ben intended to take a little more personal interest in the hunt for von Lahr.
When he’d finished his calls, he jabbed the intercom button. “Ellie, I’m going to London.”
“Okay, I’ll call and get your plane ready. Would you like me to come along or have Shaunda—”
“No, I’ll be going alone this time.”
Silence, then, “All right. Anything else? What about the situation in Peru?”
“I’m not planning on being away for long, and I trust Levine to take care of it. If there’s an emergency, you know how to contact me.” He frowned as he recalled his conversation with Mia Dolan. “I’m also going to need someone to do a babysitting job in Boston on the QT for a few weeks.”
“Hmmm, the field’s a little thin. I’m not sure if we have anyone to—”
“Can you spare Shaunda?”
Another silence, this one slightly longer. “Yes. I can always ask Nolan to help me out if things get crazy. What do you want Shaunda to do in Boston?”
“I’ll get the details to you later today. For now, I want her to keep on eye on Mia Dolan, but to keep quiet about it. No need to worry anybody yet; I just want to know if someone takes a sudden interest in Mia. Von Lahr’s identified her and knows she’s with Tiernay. Von Lahr’s also with Vanessa Sharpton. I don’t know what’s up with that, and I don’t like it. I’ve got a gut feeling we haven’t seen the end of the fallout from the Vulaj incident.”
“You’re worried Vulaj’s people might use Mia to get to Will?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t worry. Shaunda will take care of things.”
Ben disconnected and sat back with a sigh. It was his responsibility to anticipate these situations and intervene before things went veering out of control. Of course, it would help if some of his operatives were a little less impulsive.
Frowning, he hit the intercom again. “And Ellie? Give Claudia a call tomorrow and make sure she’s in Dallas.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Sunday, Philadelphia
By the time her plane touched down, two hours late, Claudia was sick and tired of crowded airports, crowded planes, and crappy coffee. Get on a plane, get off a plane. Turn around and get on another one, get off . . .
She’d be boarding a plane for Dallas at the crack of dawn tomorrow, before Ben could find out she was in Philly and chew her ass out.
On the positive side, at least she’d have a few more hours with Vincent.
Speaking of her FBI Man, where was he? He’d promised to meet her at the gate, and she didn’t see any familiar black suit and skinny tie.
“Claudia! Over here!”
She turned and spotted him waving at her. Grabbing her luggage, she hurried toward him with a smile and an extra bounce in her step.
Vincent didn’t even give her time to say hello. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close for a long, hard kiss that left her gasping.
“Wow. If you kiss me like that after I’ve been gone only a day, I can’t wait to see what you do when it’s been a couple weeks!”
He turned red, which she found utterly enchanting: men who blushed were too sexy for words. He cleared his throat and said, “I guess that would be one perk of a relationship like ours. Sex would always be phenomenal.”
That he spoke so matter-of-factly about their relationship scared her as much as it thrilled her. “That’s one way of looking at it. So where’s your car? Are we heading right over to talk to Brody? Have you run into any trouble with our cross-dressing stalker babes?”
Vincent blinked, then grinned as he grabbed her luggage. “Car’s parked. Yes, we’re heading over immediately to talk to Brody, since we’re both short on time. No, I’ve had no more stalker trouble. I’m hoping that’s the general trend.”
“I’m still really worried about you, Vincent.”
“And I keep telling you not to be.” He looked down suddenly, frowning. “What the hell do you have in here? It weighs a freakin’ ton.”
“Files on the church thefts. My contact is, to put it kindly, very thorough.”
“You look great, by the way,” he said, his gaze skimming along her body. “How are the knees and elbows?”
“Fine, if a little sore and itchy. And you . . . you look like you always look.” She winked at him. “Totally attackable. I’d use a more descriptive word, but we’re in public.”
“If we’re lucky, maybe you can squeeze in time for an attack or two before you fly back out.”
He was grinning, open and honest like a kid, and it made her feel a dozen kinds of sexy-sweet-hot things, along with a simple need to just hug him.
So she did, taking him by surprise and nearly tripping them up, since he was juggling her luggage. He hugged her back fiercely and landed a kiss on her temple as he said softly, “Missed you, too.”
For a terrible minute she was afraid she’d sniffle, but she managed to get her unfamiliar, alarming emotions back under control and followed him out of the terminal without making a fool of herself.
Once they were heading downtown, Vincent said, “I don’t think you can keep up a schedule like this; you’re going to run yourself ragged if you’re not careful.”
“You sound like my grandmother,” she huffed, though she was strangely pleased by his fussing over her. “Don’t worry about me, I know my limits.”
He glanced at her, then back at traffic. “I do worry, like you worry about me. Get used to it. And don’t forget that you’re not the only one capable of hopping on a plane.”
Claudia smiled. “Noted and filed away for future trysting.”
After a brief silence, he asked, “What were you doing at your grandma’s?”
“I went to see my parents, since it’s been a while. My grandmother lives with them. They weren’t home, just Grandma. So we shelled a few peas, talked a little girl talk. Nothing too exciting.”
“Sounds like you had a nice time, though.”
“It’s always good to see family.” She looked over at him. “Anything new on our case? Or anything else I should know about Brody?”
Vincent grinned. “I laid out our theory to my supervisor, and he agrees we’ve nailed it down. We’re still trying to ID the photos from the surveillance data. That’s been slow going.”
“But no more flowers on your front porch?”
“Nope. Seriously, Claudia, they won’t be back. It’s too dangerous, and they’ve made their point that I’m not infallible.” He paused, focusing on a quick lane change. “As for Brody, I’ve got no more than I told you yesterday. There was a fight and the cops arrested nearly half the bar, Brody included.”
“I want to ask the questions.”
“Go for it. He’s yours, not mine.”
“You�
��re welcome to try and scare him, if you want.”
Vincent laughed. “That probably won’t be needed after you’re done with the poor bastard.” He glanced at her. “Do you think he knows something?”
“Pretty sure he does. I have a feeling there’s more behind his seeing one of our girls in the alley by chance.” She spotted the city building up ahead. “And we’ll find out soon enough. You know, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see the inside of this place again for a very long time.”
“Sorry. If it helps any, I still feel guilty about that.”
“Don’t. I had it coming. Pride goes before a fall, and all that shit.”
He eyed the simple cotton shirt she was wearing with her pants. “Gun?”
“Safely locked away in a Texas hotel. And you?”
“Still accessorized.”
Good. “Then we’re covered,” she said.
Vincent had to turn over his gun before they could enter the interrogation room, where Donald “Digger” Brody waited for them, handcuffed and slumped in a chair, looking bored and badly hungover.
When Claudia and Vincent walked in, Brody sat up and she noted that he also sported a nasty black eye. And, dear God, did he stink!
“Must’ve been some fight,” she said as the door closed behind her. “I’m assuming you got a punch or two in yourself before the cops showed up.”
“Shit, yeah.” Brody stared at her for a moment. “What happened to you?”
“I was running and fell down.”
The man smirked, then glanced at Vincent. “Okay, her I know. You, I don’t.”
“Special Agent DeLuca, FBI,” Vincent said tonelessly and held up his ID.
“FBI? What the hell? All’s I did was drink a little too much and get in a fight. I didn’t even start the fight. What’s with the FBI?”
“I’m with her,” Vincent answered, taking a seat. “Don’t mind me.”
Her Last Chance Page 20
