Pandora's Box

by K. C. Blake

  “Like you would listen to me.”

  “I might.” She watched him cook. She thought about the quiet phone call he’d made the night before. It was hard to believe he had betrayed her. “I need to hurry. I want to get to the bank and check out my father’s safe deposit box.”

  “Will they let you get into it without a key?”

  “My father and I share a box. Getting in won’t be a problem.”

  She held her breath, waiting to see if he would try to stop her. If he was working against her, he would. He’d want to give her enemies a chance to get to the box first.

  Before he could say a word, someone knocked on the door. Madison hurried to get it. She didn’t want her mystery guest to wake the neighbors.

  Tyler stood on the other side of the door. He raised a small brown bag and smiled. “Fresh donuts and coffee. I thought you might need something after last night.”

  “Who is it, babe?” DeMarco asked as he stepped into the open. He didn’t fool her. Somehow he’d known it would be Tyler. Marc had timed his entrance to the second. He made quite a picture of domesticated bliss with her apron around his waist and a pot of coffee in his hand. He added, “Oh, I’m afraid you’re too late. We’re having a homemade breakfast this morning,”

  Mission complete, DeMarco returned to the kitchen, leaving her to clean up the aftermath.

  Tyler took three steps backwards and turned to go, his lips a grim line. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “It isn’t what it looks like.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside the doorway. “I wasn’t the only one drinking last night. DeMarco was in a bad state. So I let him sleep on the couch.” She pointed at the discarded blanket on the living room floor. “On the couch,” she repeated. “Nothing happened.”

  “Why was he drinking?”

  “I don’t know. He wasn’t making sense, and then he passed out.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” His intense green eyes glittered with contempt. “I can’t believe you’re covering for him after he tried to shoot me.”

  Stunned, she asked, “How do you know about that?”

  “He called me last night, told me all about it and offered to flush his career if I wanted retribution.” Tyler held the brown bag up again. “He also told me I should bring you breakfast this morning because you’d probably be up all night crying your eyes out over losing your dad.”

  DeMarco knew better.

  “I don’t cry.” It was the only thing she could think of to say to him. She wanted to strangle DeMarco. He hadn’t reported her safe deposit box story to anyone, but he’d set her up so Tyler wouldn’t want her. He had betrayed her after all, just in a different way. She added, “At least not about things I can’t change.”

  Tyler nodded slowly, but his eyes pinned her to the wall. “The fact remains you lied to me. If we’re going to work together to clear your father’s name and find out who’s behind the attempts on my father’s life, you have to be honest with me about everything. Understood?”

  “You still want to work with me?”

  Instead of answering her verbally, Tyler leaned forward, crowding her until her back hit the open door. His mouth hovered for a moment, giving her time to evade. All the reasons for not kissing him climbed her throat but never made it to her lips. She realized that she’d been longing to kiss him since the moment they’d met in the president’s car, even before she knew his name.

  When she didn’t move, his eyes flashed, triumphant. Their mouths met. His lips, soft and warm and tasting of coffee moved against hers with a deliberate passion she hadn’t experienced with any man in her past.

  Her knees turned to molten jelly.

  Then it was over.

  Tyler took a step backwards, broke the kiss off, and said, “Yeah, I still want to work with you. Among other things.”

  He left her standing there, confused and a little bereft. She’d been dying to feel his arms around her, but he’d kept them at his side. Her body tingled, awakened sexually for the first time in over a year. Since her one-night-stand she’d been living like a nun.

  She glanced around in time to see DeMarco step back into the kitchen, having witnessed the kiss. His face had been twisted in anger. A new fear set upon her heart, the fear of what DeMarco might do next. He had already shot at Tyler. She didn’t actually think he would kill over her.

  What if she was wrong?

  ******

  Tyler leaned against the wall near Madison’s door. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Now her taste was in his mouth. Mint and citrus. He pressed his lips together, lips still warm from kissing her sweet mouth. He closed his eyes. Seeing DeMarco in her apartment had made him sick to his stomach. Not to mention angry as hell. If he was smart, he’d forget about her. She had a set of emotional baggage not even he could carry.

  His cell phone played the familiar rock song. He moved away from her door and glanced at the caller ID. Brett. The only one who called him at the most inconvenient of times. Groaning, he answered the phone.

  “What’s up?” Tyler asked.

  “I’m in town, so I decided to look you up. Can we meet for a drink? You can fill me in on the secret project you’re working on.”

  Tyler stepped into the elevator. He leaned against the back wall and stared at Madison’s door as the metal box closed around him. The thought of DeMarco’s hands on her was almost more than he could stand. He made a fist around the cell phone. “Can’t. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brett said with a laugh. “Did I interrupt something? Are you with a lady friend?”

  “No.”

  “But there is a woman involved in this somehow, right?”

  More laughter from Brett set Tyler’s teeth on edge.

  “What are you doing in town anyway?” Tyler asked. “It was my understanding the Navy was sending you on a top secret mission somewhere down in South America. Did you finish already?”

  Silence. Then, “Actually they pulled me out early, so I’m totally free now.”

  The elevator door opened and Tyler left the building, cell phone on his ear. He frowned, more confused than ever at Brett’s sudden appearance in town. The Navy hadn’t ever pulled him out early before. Something didn’t feel right about Brett’s story.

  “Is there something you need to tell me? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  Brett denied it and Tyler knew better than to push him, so he told Brett to call back later. They would meet for dinner—or a drink.

  After hanging up, Tyler’s thoughts returned to Madison. He felt like a giant hypocrite. He’d laid in to Madison about keeping something from him when he was keeping a whopping secret from her. He wondered if she’d ever forgive him once she found out the truth.

  ******

  Getting rid of DeMarco had proved too easy after he’d seen her kissing the man he saw as his rival. He hadn’t even stuck around for breakfast. At that point she hadn’t had much of an appetite herself, so she’d thrown the food away, wasting it, which wasn’t like her. Then she’d taken a bus downtown to the bank, ready to see her plan through to the end.

  An hour later she shoved the bank’s glass door hard and stepped out into the cold winter day. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, unconcerned for the pedestrians in a hurry. Raising the empty manila envelope she’d taken from the safe deposit box high into the air, she made a show of examining it in the light. If DeMarco had betrayed her, if he’d informed someone she was looking into her father’s safe deposit box, she would know soon enough.

  Ten minutes ago the envelope had held her mother’s heart-shaped locket, but now that necklace hung around Madison neck. The feel of the heart between her breasts gave her a warm sense of peace like nothing could hurt her.

  Madison slid sunglasses up her nose and turned for the closest bus stop. She felt eyes on her, watching her every move. It took every ounce of self-control she had to not look around for those eyes. She decided to take a detour. Whipping around t
he corner of an old brick building, she headed into an alley.

  She purposely dropped the manila envelope on the ground.

  Madison jumped high, grabbed the bottom of a metal ladder dangling from the lowest apartment’s fire escape. She flipped upside-down, hooked her knees over the bottom rung and pulled herself up. In silence, she waited for the intruder to catch up with her.

  She didn’t have to wait for long.

  A man entered the alley without hesitation. He stopped, looked around. Hands on hips, he didn’t seem to know what to think about her disappearance. For a moment he stood just below her. She waited for him to take three steps forward.

  He picked the envelope up.

  Madison flipped. Somersault in mid-air, she landed on her feet behind him. The impact of her feet against the concrete floor made a loud slapping sound, alerting the intruder. He began to turn around.

  She grabbed his arm, spun in a tight half-circle, and used her hip to flip him over. He landed hard on the ground, and she straddled his lean hips and looked down at his face.

  Tyler Law stared up at her, dazed.

  ******

  Chapter Five

  No matter how many times Madison had been in the Oval Office, the room still had the power to intimidate her. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to experiencing. She felt very small in comparison, almost insignificant. So many presidents had ruled the country from this room. Powerful men making hard decisions. She could picture them, each in their own time, sitting behind the large desk, talking on the phone to leaders in other countries.

  She wanted to discuss Tyler with his father. The president could stop his son from following her. The day before, after catching Tyler in the alley, she’d reamed him out good. Then left him standing in the alley with his mouth hanging open.

  Tyler had insisted he hadn’t been following her, but she didn’t believe a mere coincidence had brought him to the alley. If he hadn’t followed her, then he’d paid someone else to tell him where she had gone.

  She scanned the room slowly. She took in everything at once, the books, the desk, and the president’s chair. Her eyes lingered on the flag near the window for a moment. Her father had instilled a strong sense of duty and love in her for America and a respect for the government, whether you agreed with the men in charge or not. Duncan Grey had told her numerous times that it didn’t matter to him who the president was, republican or democrat; he would stand behind them. If nothing else, you had to respect the office.

  There was no way her father would willingly try to kill a president.

  She didn’t care what it had looked like to the naked eye.

  Her father was innocent; it was up to her to prove it.

  The door opened and the president entered, leaving two men outside the room, intentionally shutting the door in their surprised faces. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “How are you holding up, my dear?”

  “As well as can be expected under the circumstances, sir.”

  “I apologize for not getting in touch with you. I wanted to, but we’ve been inundated with work.” He smiled down at her, still grasping her shoulders. “You must know I believe in your father’s innocence. He was a great man and I am saddened by his loss.”

  His words were a comfort and Madison relaxed a bit.

  The president circled his desk and sat behind it. He gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs on the opposite side, which she did. He continued to talk to her about her father’s years of service and tireless dedication to his country while he rifled through a stack of papers.

  And Madison realized something in those revealing moments of distraction. Although President Law was saying all the right things, there wasn’t an ounce of emotion in his words. He was doing his politician-thing where he glossed over bad events, uttered a few sympathetic words, and went about his own business. She’d heard him do it a million times.

  But Malcom Law was a great man. Wasn’t he?

  “You and my father were good friends once,” she said, trying to wring a sincere response from him. “What happened?”

  “People grow apart.” He shrugged. “We were busy men filled with ambition, both climbing the slippery ladder of success. There wasn’t time for socializing.”

  She dug deeper.

  “So you didn’t have a falling out over something?”

  President Law stiffened. A muscle throbbed in his weathered cheek and he seemed to swallow convulsively. “I had nothing but the utmost respect for your father. Why? Did he say something different?”

  “No, sir. I was just wondering why you stopped visiting our house.” He shrugged without comment and she changed the subject. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me, sir. I know how busy you are.”

  She crossed a leg over her knee and settled back in the cushioned chair. She observed the president’s body language and facial expression while trying to figure out if she knew this man at all. She shook her head to clear it. The president didn’t have loads of free time. She needed to get to the point of her visit.

  “I need a favor.”

  “Anything,” President Law said without hesitation.

  “Could you please tell your son to stop tailing me?”

  “Pardon?” The president glanced up from the mountain of work. “What do you mean by tailing you? Is this some new sort of hip lingo the younger generation is using?”

  “No, sir.” She leaned forward in the chair. “Tyler has been following me relentlessly. He’s appointed himself my personal shadow. I’m not sure why. I only know I want it to stop.”

  “I can’t imagine why he would follow you.” The president’s throat emitted a strangled laugh. “I shall have a talk with him at once.” Malcom Law leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. He stared off into space for a moment. “I knew it was a mistake, allowing Tyler to play detective. He should return to the Navy and resume his own life.”

  Madison didn’t say anything to that because she had the feeling the president wasn’t exactly speaking to her. He seemed to be thinking out loud. In fact, she started to think he might have forgotten she was even there. But then he looked straight at her and smiled as he replaced the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

  “Anything else, Madison?”

  “Well, actually I was wondering when I might return to work. I mean, the vice-president and the director of the CIA made it sound like I was under investigation and wouldn’t be allowed to return anytime soon, but since you don’t believe my father actually tried to kill you…when can I come back?”

  He set his papers aside and met her gaze straight on. His lips parted.

  The door opened, slamming against the interior wall, and the first lady swept into the room. Vivian Law wore a cream-colored tailor-made suit. Her dark hair had been groomed expertly, no doubt by a third party whose hands didn’t shake. Vivian held a Martini in her hand, as usual, two olives.

  Madison stood. If the first lady was going to make a scene, Madison preferred to leave her conversation with the president for another time.

  “Oh dear, did I interrupt an important meeting?” Vivian placed an arm around Madison’s shoulders. “I am so sorry about your father, darling. He was a wonderful man. The only thing he did wrong was to fail in his assassination attempt.”

  “Vivian!” President Law leaped from his chair and circled the desk faster than Madison would expect a man of his size and age to move. “You’re making an ass out of yourself... again”

  “Ass?” She giggled at the word and her glass tipped. The clear liquid came close to splashing over the side. The first lady glared at Madison. “I’ve seen the way you look at my husband.”

  Madison’s eyes widened. Was the first lady actually accusing her of wanting Malcom Law in a sexual way? The thought sickened Madison. Not only had he been a friend of her father’s, but she’d known him since she was born.

  The first lady added, “The obvious admiration and respect you have for him makes m
e sick. Wake up and smell the coffee before it’s too late for you.”

  Okay, she wasn’t being accused of being in love with him. That made Madison relax a little, but she was puzzled over what the first lady meant. Why shouldn’t she admire the president?

  “I think maybe you should have some coffee,” the president said.

  He grabbed his wife by the elbow and dragged her off to the side for a heated argument. They fought in loud stage-whispers, calling each other names and making threats. Madison didn’t want any part of their domestic dispute. Without a word she headed for the door. Before she reached it, the president spoke to her.

  “Please take this,” he handed her his wife’s glass, “while I take Mrs. Law up to her room. I think she needs to rest.”

  “Give me that back!” The first lady reached long fingers for the glass, eyes wide and fearful, but the president drew her back against him sharply. Then he pulled her through the door.

  Madison went to a nearby table. She had every intention of setting the martini glass down, but something didn’t feel right about it. She lifted the glass to her nose and sniffed. It didn’t smell like alcohol. She took a taste. Water? Her eyes went to the open doorway. Why would the first lady pretend to be drunk?

  Vice President Mercer stuck his head inside. “Where’s President Law?”

  “He and Mrs. Law went upstairs. I think she’s going to take a nap.”

  Mercer’s face tightened.

  Madison waited for him to begin questioning her again on her father, but he didn’t say a word. He seemed worried about something. So she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, sir? I’m sure the president will be back in a second.”

  Mercer walked away without another word or glance in her direction. Strange man. She’d disliked him from the start. She set the glass down on the corner table and left the Oval Office. The president hadn’t asked her to wait for him. If he wanted to talk to her, he had her number.

  ******

  She couldn’t wait for Madison Grey to discover her true identity.