by Ana Leigh
“I love you, too, angel. No one knows how I love you!” His mouth explored the soft hollow of her neck.
She stepped away. “I think we’d better get out of this shower before we pucker up like a couple of prunes.”
“Plums. Plums pucker into prunes. Besides, they’re round and juicy. I’d rather visualize you as a plum.” He lowered his head and laved at the water clinging to the nipples of her breasts, then closed his mouth around the turgid peak of one of them.
“Yes, definitely round and juicy.”
“I can see where this is leading,” she said. “We’ve got to get out of here and get dressed. Did you forget my dad’s expecting us for dinner?” She stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and headed for the bedroom.
Dave turned off the water and for a long moment stared at the glossy black shower tiles. Show time. No putting it off any longer.
He dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went into the bedroom. Trish had already slipped into a white blouse and black slacks. His gaze fixed on her. She was so beautiful. He wanted to reach for her again.
“Hey, will you get the lead out, my love. You know Dad doesn’t like us to be late.” She came over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then sat down at the vanity and began to brush out her hair.
“I’m not going to your father’s for dinner. Trish, I resigned today.”
She giggled. “I know these Wednesday-night dinners don’t thrill you, but resign yourself back to grin-and-bear-them.”
“I resigned from the firm, Trish.”
She spun around on the stool. “What are you talking about?” The laughter in her eyes had shifted to shock.
“I’d like to get as far away from this town as I can. Let’s fly to Vegas, get married, and then I’ll contact a headhunter.”
She got to her feet. “What’s this all about, Dave? Did you and Dad have an argument?”
“Yeah, one hell of a one.”
She came over and slipped her arms around his waist. “Sweetheart, I know there’s a lot of tension between you and Dad since we set up housekeeping together, but once we’re married, he’ll get over it.”
“That’s not the issue, Trish.”
“Then what is? Why are you considering leaving the firm?”
“It’s not up for consideration, Trish. I left the firm.”
“Why?”
He knew from the tilt of her chin that her guard was up and the argument had begun.
“I think it would be wiser to get the explanation from your father.”
“In as much as you happen to be the man I love and intend to marry, I think I’m not unreasonable to expect an explanation from you.”
“No, it’s not unreasonable,” he said.
What the hell was he doing standing there with only a damn towel around his waist trying to explain a problem that could affect their relationship—and probably break her heart. He grabbed a pair of shorts out of the drawer and pulled them on. They neither restored his dignity nor bolstered his courage.
“You know how much I love you, angel. And that I would never deliberately try to hurt you.”
He could see he was getting through to her. That earlier impatient gleam in her eyes had changed into one of apprehension.
“And I love you, too, Dave. So what is this all about?”
“Today I happened to notice a suspicious pattern in a Syrian account that had been opened and handled exclusively by your father. Every deposit made by them was immediately transferred to a company in Belfast, Ireland.”
“So maybe this Irish company is a subsidiary of the Syrian corporation.”
“That was my initial thought until I read further. Our files indicated that these transfers were funds being paid to the Irish company for the purchase of ball bearings. I wondered, why bother to come through us rather than deal directly with each other? It reeked to high heaven to me. I did some checking and discovered the Irish company didn’t even manufacture the item being purchased. It’s a clear case of money laundering. The company had to be just a front for the IRA.”
“I don’t understand. Are you referring to the Irish Republican Army?”
“Exactly. The whole thing is an ongoing money-laundering set-up to finance them.”
For a long moment she appeared confused, then her eyes widened as it all began to sink in. “Did you tell my father about this?”
“Of course. As soon as I found out myself.”
“And what did he say?”
“He told me it was not my concern, and to keep my nose out of his personal accounts.”
“And that’s what led to the argument between the two of you.” He nodded. She sighed in relief. “You know Dad has a short fuse. By tomorrow it will all be forgotten.”
“Trish, don’t you understand? Your father’s involved in a money-laundering scheme that’s funding Irish terrorists.”
“You don’t know if he was aware of what was happening.”
“Of course he knew.”
“You don’t know that,” she lashed out. “How dare you accuse him of being dishonest. No wonder he was angry with you.”
“Good Lord, Trish. How naive can you be? Your father’s in it up to his eyeballs. Why do you think he personally handles the accounts? Any other guy in the office would have seen through it as quickly as I did.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions. Why are you doing this, Dave? I know you and Dad have this tug-of-war over me, but I didn’t believe you disliked him so much that you’d accuse him of being unethical.”
Tears glistened in her eyes and he reached out to embrace her. She shoved his hands away.
“My father’s a good and honest man. Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me with your accusations about a man I love dearly? He raised and cared for me all my life.” Sobbing openly, she turned away.
Dave couldn’t bear witnessing her heartache. He moved to her and attempted to draw her back into his arms.
“Don’t touch me. I’ll never forgive you for this. You’re trying to force me to choose between the two of you.”
“And you’re trying to force me to surrender my integrity and ignore what he’s done. If I did, it would eventually destroy our love.”
“He’s my father, Dave. I can’t…” She was sobbing so hard she couldn’t continue, but her next action spoke louder than the words she couldn’t impart. She slid the ring off her finger and put it on the vanity. Then she grabbed her purse, called to their cocker spaniel and ran out with him.
He held out hope that she would cool down and come to her senses, but when she hadn’t returned by midnight he knew she wasn’t coming back.
Dave paced the floor throughout the night, cursing himself for losing the only person who mattered to him.
In the morning he packed up his belongings and walked away from the whole stinking mess.
Dave turned off the shower and grasped the metal showerhead as if it were a lifeline. The weight in his chest felt like a vise squeezing the breath out of him. Somehow he had to exorcise that woman from his mind and heart.
Chapter 5
After driving aimlessly around D.C., Trish found herself near the Ellipse. Since it was a pleasant night and the streets were well populated, she parked her car and sat down on a bench near the Lincoln Monument.
She wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Even if she had to choke on her tears, she wouldn’t shed one of them. She wasn’t worthy of even self-pity. How could one woman be so stupid so many times in the same lifetime? She’d been on top of the world—and she’d let that happiness slip through her fingers.
It had been a big mistake to go and see Dave tonight. Only one of many mistakes she’d made in the past six years. She didn’t know which one was worse: walking out on Dave six years ago or marrying Robert Manning.
And now, knowing Dave was so near, how could she stay away from him? She’d seen the contempt in his eyes tonight. How could she ever convince him he was wrong? That she hadn’t done an
y of those things he’d accused her of doing.
Trish had no idea how long she sat struggling with the agonizing thoughts before she became aware that the streams of tourists viewing the monument had begun to thin. In a state of rejection, she returned to her car and drove home.
She pulled into the driveway of her father’s house in Georgetown. In this exclusive D.C. neighborhood the cost of houses ranged in the millions. She parked her car in the garage. As she walked toward the front door, somehow, despite the distraction of her disturbing thoughts, she began to feel that someone was watching her. She swung her head toward a rustle in the shrubbery lining the walk.
“Hello, is someone there?”
When there was no reply, she moved on, but quickened her step. She was too edgy. The events of the last couple days had frayed her nerves.
Suddenly she heard the distinct sound of rustling again. Trish spun on her heel. “Who’s there?”
She sighed in relief when a blond cocker spaniel came out of the bushes and trotted over to her.
“Ayevol! You scared the life out of me!” She knelt down and the dog lapped at her cheek as she scratched it behind the ears. “What are you doing out here alone?”
Ayevol scampered ahead of her, and to her further surprise she found the front door ajar. “So that’s how you got outside,” she declared. “Who left the door open?”
The foyer was brightly lit and Trish closed and locked the door. She decided to tell her father about the diamonds. His den was in darkness, so she proceeded to the kitchen. Only a night-light burned there. The whole situation was beginning to work on her already tattered nerves.
Ayevol scampered up the stairway ahead of her. She was relieved to see light shining from her father’s room at the end of the hallway. She tapped lightly on the open door and entered.
“Dad, I have to talk to you.” Her father was standing at the bathroom sink.
“What happened?” she asked when he came out holding a wet washcloth to his forehead.
His light laughter diminished her alarm. “Would you believe I walked into a door?”
“Let me look at it.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and Trish examined the wound. The skin wasn’t broken, but a good-size bruise had already discolored a spot on his tanned forehead. “Maybe you should have a doctor check you out.”
“Nonsense! I’m fine.” He got up hastily and returned to examine his face in the mirror.
Trish’s gaze remained fixed fondly on him. The years had done little to diminish his handsomeness. Tall, with a full head of gray hair and a well-conditioned body, at age fifty-five he was still considered to be one of the most eligible bachelors in D.C., a city that overflowed with wealthy, good-looking, ivy-league competition.
Driven by ambition, despite being orphaned as a child, he had worked his way through college, studied hard to learn his chosen profession and become one of the most successful international bankers in Washington. He had also managed to ingratiate himself as a favorite of many of the self-made nouveau riche of the city.
Trish adored her father. She’d been only five years old when her mother had died in an airplane accident. He became the most important thing in her life. Trish had centered all her love and attention on him. In return, Henry had spoiled and lavished her with luxuries, expensive clothes and the finest education money could buy in the years that followed.
In outward appearances her life seemed perfect, but Trish had always had a nagging feeling that something was lacking.
Until two years ago, when she had gone into business with Deb, Trish had felt her life was too idle. The volunteer and charity work she did was not enough to satisfy her. From the time she had left college, her father had preferred she continue to devote her time and attention to running his home and standing in as his official hostess.
But her life had seemed to her to hold no real purpose until the day he introduced her to Dave Cassidy, a brilliant young executive her father had recently hired. Talk along the grapevine was that Cassidy would either be running Hunter International or his own business within a few years.
She and Dave had fallen in love instantly, and for the first time in her twenty-four years she’d acted in defiance of her father’s wishes. Despite her father’s disapproval, she moved in with Dave. A month later Dave asked her to marry him, and six months after that her enchanted world spun out of orbit and came crashing to a halt.
Her heart was broken when the two men she loved had clashed. Out of loyalty to the man who had raised her, she had taken her father’s side. It had led to the break-up between her and Dave.
Despite this, she had never blamed her father—nor Dave. She blamed herself for acting so hastily and not discussing it calmly with Dave. Instead, she had fought with him and broken their engagement. She grimaced in despair. Now at thirty, she had paid a heavy price for that impetuousness.
Recalling the scene with Dave earlier, Trish closed her eyes in anguish.
A price you have to live with the rest of your life, Trish.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Trish opened her eyes and discovered her father was staring at her. “Nothing.”
“You said you wanted to talk.”
She was no longer in the mood to talk about anything. She would probably end up breaking down if she tried. She needed to be alone.
“Nothing important, Dad. Did you know you left the front door open? Ayevol got out.”
“That was careless of me. No harm done, I hope.”
“No. No harm done. Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, baby.”
Returning to her room, Trish drew a hot bath and sat listlessly in the tub as the hot jets bombarded her body, and her mind swirled with even steamier thoughts of Dave.
Early the next morning she dressed, then called the CIA and then hurried downstairs after the call.
After several minutes of nervous pacing, Trish glanced out the window and saw a car coming up the driveway. She quickly grabbed her purse and went outside before her father saw her.
She was in no mood to explain what she intended to do. He would only insist she talk to Robert before going to the CIA. He would probably go straight to Robert with her suspicions, as he’d done so often in the past.
Her father had actually believed that accompanying Robert to Morocco meant that they were getting back together again. When she’d told him yesterday that they had signed divorce papers before they’d even left, he had stormed out of the room.
As much as she loved her father, she could no longer tolerate the excuses he always offered in Robert’s defense. Trish could only wonder what her father would say if she had told him about the drugging and the little party Robert and Ali had planned.
A shudder rippled her spine as she recalled that horrendous scene. Thanks to the timely arrival of Dave’s squad, it had all worked out in her favor. Now she had what she wanted—signed divorce papers. Robert Manning would be out of her life once and for all. And she had done it without her father’s help.
She hurried up to the car, then drew up in surprise when she recognized the driver.
“Good morning,” she said, climbing in.
“Good morning,” Dave Cassidy replied, and shifted the car into drive.
“I’m sorry. When I spoke to Mr. Bishop, he told me he’d send a driver for me. It never occurred to me it would be you.”
“I’ve never told Bishop we have a history.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I can’t see why it would be germane to the case, Mrs. Manning. It’s ancient history.”
“Perhaps so, but at least it might prevent awkward moments like this.”
“Suck it up, lady, and live with it.”
And that’s exactly what she did. She took a deep breath to try and calm her churning stomach, then gazed out the window. They didn’t speak another word to each other the rest of the trip.
Trish had never seen the headquarters of the CIA before i
n Langley, Virginia. It was very impressive. Spread out on 140 acres, the buildings and surrounding grounds could have passed for the campus of a small college.
Dave turned her over to a woman who had her photographed and pinned with a visitor pass, then he escorted her to Jeff Baker’s office. Mike Bishop was there, and the two men rose to their feet when she and Dave entered.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Manning,” Baker said. “You remember Mr. Bishop.”
“Yes, of course.”
Mike Bishop nodded at her, and then motioned to a chair Dave drew up for her. “Good morning, Mrs. Manning. Please sit down.”
“Sir, will it be necessary for me to remain?” Dave asked. “I have some paperwork to go over.”
“I’d like you to, Agent Cassidy,” Baker said. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Dave walked over and leaned back against the wall. Trish could tell he didn’t like even being in the same room with her. The tension between them was so acute surely the other two men would notice it.
“Let’s get right to the point, Mrs. Manning,” Baker said. “Mr. Bishop said you recalled a conversation in Morocco regarding diamonds.”
With the three men’s gazes fixed on her, she began to lose some of her previous confidence. Maybe she was crying wolf and wasting their time.
Her mouth felt dry as she repeated what she had told Dave. As she spoke, she shifted her eyes between Baker and Bishop, deliberately avoiding any eye contact with Dave. But she could feel his stare boring into her. The other men’s fixed stares remained on her, their expressions as inscrutable as Dave’s had been last night.
“Do you have these diamonds in your possession now, Mrs. Manning?” Baker asked.
“No, sir. I really had no right to be there, much less remove anything from the safe.”
“Why is that, Mrs. Manning?”
“I live with my father. Robert Manning and I recently signed divorce papers,” she said after a moment.
More men trying to manipulate her. She’d had enough of it and stood up. “For whatever it’s worth, gentlemen, that’s all I know.”
The two men rose to their feet. “Thank you,” Baker said. “We appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Manning.”
