by Kylie Brant
That made her feel only a modicum better. "So all I have to do is manage not to lose it for a few hours. Great." Another thought occurred, and she frowned. "They actually lend this stuff out? Are they crazy?"
"I'm a very good customer." He cocked his head, appreciation obvious in his expression. "And at the risk of having you use one of those heels on me, I have to say you're a gorgeous advertisement for their jewels. And you're breathtaking in that dress."
"I look like a stork," she said shortly. "All legs." She couldn't begin to count all the times in her life that she'd wished to saw about four inches off them.
He moved behind her again, shifted her so that the mirror reflected both of them. In the heels, she was only a couple of inches shorter than he was. "You look like every man's fantasy," he murmured in her ear. "We're a pretty primitive lot, darling. When we see endless legs like yours we tend to think only of how they'd feel wrapped around our waist."
His words robbed her of speech. The stinging kiss he placed on the side of her neck stole her breath. Raising his head again, his eyes met hers in the mirror, an unmistakable sheen of desire in them. "And having had that exquisite experience recently, I'm going to have the devil's own time tonight keeping my mind on business."
Because her throat seemed clogged, she cleared it. "Well, I wish I'd known that before I invested in all those self-defense courses I took. Next time I get in a jam, I'll just flash some leg."
He reached past her, picked up the red-sequined purse. The sight of the frivolous accessory dangling from his arm relaxed her in a way nothing else could have. He nudged her toward the door. "And if you get in a jam tonight, remember I've got your back." As if to accentuate his words, his hand slid to her butt and squeezed.
A well-placed elbow dislodged his hand and brought a satisfying wince to his face. "Don't you think we're a bit overdressed for a … what exactly is a Technology Expo, anyway?" He was dressed in a dark suit that looked every bit as formal as a tux. They headed down the staircase and out the door, where the driver had the limo running.
"The expo actually starts tomorrow and runs for three days. Tonight is a more formal cocktail gathering for the participants and press." Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew an ID for her, slipped it inside her purse and handed the purse to her.
The sight of it reminded her of something. "Did you remember to have an ID sent over to Corday?"
"I did. I also…" His cell phone rang then, and he answered it, even as he helped her into the car. It was a struggle to swing her legs inside while maintaining her modesty. Catching the look of sheer male appreciation in his expression at the sight, she lost no time reaching over to slam the door.
Once he was inside, she listened unabashedly to his side of the conversation. It wasn't difficult to discern that he was talking to Cade. She waited impatiently until they were down the drive and on the road before he ended the conversation.
"NOPD got a lead on the bomber," he said without preamble. "Nothing popped in the database, but the detectives worked some snitches. With Joe's description and the MO, one name kept surfacing. Dennis Francis."
Hope leaped to her throat. "Did they catch up with him?" He nodded, face grim. "But not before someone else caught up with him first. He's dead. Shot three times in the front seat of his car, close range."
As quickly as hope had surged, disappointment replaced it. "But we can look into his history. See if he might have been acquainted with your father…"
James was already shaking his head. "He was only thirty-three. He would have been too young to have anything to do with the accident. More than likely he was hired for the bombing and was killed when he failed."
Mind working furiously, Tori said, "Well, this still might shake loose a lead. What about his phone lines? Have they done a dump on them?"
James gave her a look that was half admiring, half amused. "You're right on track. He didn't have a land-line, and no cell was found on him. But they did find cell phone bills when they tossed his apartment. Cade said they put a rush on the order, but it will still take a couple days."
"Something tells me we may not have that long." She looked at him consideringly, knowing he wasn't going to like what she had to say next. "I heard back on some feelers I put out a few days ago on Dale Cartwright."
He stiffened, very slightly. Voice cool, he said, "That wasn't necessary. I told you I'd take care of it."
Silence stretched, the tension in it palpable. Then, with obvious reluctance, he asked, "What did you find?"
Discreetly, Tori tried, and failed, to tug the hem of her dress farther down her thighs. "He and your father didn't part especially amicably. Word I heard was your father forced him out. Apparently he had an alcohol problem and it cost them too many contracts."
"And where'd you get these details?" There was a light in his eye, a dangerous burn. She refused to quail beneath it.
"From information brokers I use from time to time. I got the same story from two of them, so I tend to think it's credible." And because she saw through the anger to the hurt beneath, she said, "I'm sorry, James. I know it's not what you wanted to hear."
He took a deep breath. "No. But then, there's been damn little I've wanted to hear in the last few days. But a lot that I needed to know. So." He seemed to draw himself in, a warrior preparing to rejoin the battle. "He could have harbored a grudge over that, I agree. I tend to think if he had, however, he wouldn't have waited three years to get revenge."
Tori wasn't so sure. There were plenty of people who believed that the best revenge was served cold.
"I don't want it to be Dale. I admit that." She knew the admission didn't come easily for him. "It'd be easier, less personal, if it turns out to be one of the CEOs of one of the other companies."
"Tarkington's and Beal's were the only two of the other competitive companies you cited who were even around at the time. Your parents' accident and the threats on your life are linked. So the suspect almost has to be someone from that time period." She thought for a moment before inquiring, "If I were the sender, I'd have followed up the bombing with another message."
"Another came today," he admitted. "Said next time I'd be dead and to withdraw my bid from the upcoming Pentagon contract."
The chill that broke out over her skin had nothing to do with her scanty dress. "And when do they award the contract?"
"Next week."
Time was running out, and the sender's desperation was sure to escalate. The concern she felt wasn't new. The stark fear was. "So what are you going to do?"
"The only thing I can do." His voice was even, full of promise. "I'm going to find this bastard and nail him to the wall. And if I find out that the same person threatening me killed my parents…" His tone sharpened, a sword whetted on stone. "The law will be much more merciful than I will be."
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
It resembled theater opening night rather than Tori's idea of a technology expo. The hotel conference rooms were overflowing with people, and more of them were wearing press passes than she'd expected. She saw Kiki in the distance, camera flashing away, and winced. He hadn't taken her fashion advice. With his loud, plaid polyester suit coat and striped pants, he looked more like a seventies used-car salesman than a photographer. But he appeared to be doing the job she'd hired him for, so she would have to be content with that.
James kept her close to his side, introduced her to a dizzying array of people, but none were the ones she most wanted to meet. If Beal, Cartwright or Tarkington were somewhere in the crowd she was busily scanning, she'd yet to see them.
"Tori." She pasted a smile on her face and turned to greet the woman James was greeting. She looked vaguely familiar.
"You remember Celia, don't you? My assistant?"
The name didn't ring a bell, but the job description did. The woman who vetted all of James's visitors at the company. "Of course. Nice to see you again." Rather than the colorless suits she'd s
een the woman wearing at work, tonight she was dressed in a tasteful navy dress and pearls. Tori felt positively bare beside her.
"Miss Corbett." There was a puzzled note in the woman's voice, as she looked from Tori to James. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Well, actually, I'm Mr. Tremaine's…"
"Companion." James slipped an arm around Tori's •waist, ignoring the way she stiffened. "She was kind enough to accompany me here tonight. Looks like we've got a good crowd."
"Yes, I knew you'd be pleased." Celia turned to scan the mob. "I arrived with Marcus a little bit ago. I believe he's searching for you."
"I'll look him up. Why don't you see if Tucker and Jones need any help? And if Corley and Soulieu have the Micro Secure set up and ready for the demonstration."
Celia took a pad from her purse and began scribbling his orders, the picture of competence. "I'll do that. Do you have your cell with you?" At James's nod, she promised, "I'll let you know what I find out."
Once the woman had departed, Tori slipped away from his arm. "Can we at least go with 'associate' rather than companion? You make me sound like the faithful family dog."
He snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and handed her one. "'Associate' works for me. Of course, when I introduced you that way to my brother the other night he immediately assumed we were 'associating.' The word dripped innuendo."
Throat suddenly dry, Tori sipped. It was rather hypocritical, she supposed, to object to having people thinking they were sleeping together, now that they were, in fact, doing just that. Wisely, she kept the rest of her protests to herself. So far she'd managed to avoid any discussion about last night, and she would like to keep it that way. They'd moved from the gazebo sometime before dawn to her bedroom. And when she'd awakened, he was gone. The only signs he'd been there at all was the indentation on the pillow next to her, and her clothes, neatly folded on a chair.
She took a bigger drink. Yes, any discussion regarding their relationship, real or pretended, was something she'd rather evade.
"What's on the agenda tonight?"
James checked his watch. "Happy hour will continue for another forty-five minutes, and then the participating companies will begin the exhibition. Each will highlight one of the products they'll be showcasing for the next few days." His voice was laced with certainty. "Of course, we feel that Tremaine Technologies will garner the lion's share of attention with our product."
"All modesty aside, I'm compelled to agree."
Tori immediately identified the tiny blonde in the black cocktail dress who'd joined them. Ana ignored her brother for the moment and said, "Tori, isn't it? How are you? Cade said the bomb went off in front of your house." She swept her figure with her gaze. "I'm glad to see that you don't look any the worse for wear."
"I've got a bump on the head and makeup took care of the worst bruises." Tori shrugged. "We were lucky."
Ana sent a meaningful glance to her brother. "His luck is about to run out. He's been avoiding me all day, but I want to know what kind of precautions he's been taking. This psycho who almost killed the two of you isn't going to stop. Did he tell you the family wanted him to delay the expo?"
Tori shook her head. She wasn't surprised, however, that James had refused. He wasn't the type to back down in the face of danger.
"We've got security all over this area," James informed them quietly. "And I'm using a driver and an armored car."
Ana smiled, but the worry was still evident in her expression. "I know exactly how much you hate that, too. When I'm tempted to brain you for being bull-headed, thinking of that fact cheers me right up."
Looking slightly hunted, James said, "I thought you'd be getting in position to see how the Micro Secure performs."
"I already know how it will perform," she replied sweetly. "Magnificently. Tell me you're wearing Kevlar tonight."
He looked down at his suit. "No, Armani."
"Don't be cute, James. This would be a perfect spot for someone to take a shot at you." At the real concern threading Ana's voice, Tori looked around uneasily, wondering if she was right. Certainly the mob of people would make discovering a sniper more difficult.
"You can talk over the security details with your husband. He arranged them. We tightened up the registration ID process, and the metal detectors make smuggling in a weapon unlikely." He reached out, gave her a hug. "I know you're worried, but you shouldn't be. This is probably the safest place I can be."
Ana didn't look satisfied, but she hugged him back, hard. To Tori she said confidingly, "He tends to think he's indestructible, which has the rest of us a bit worried.
Add to that his irritating quality of thinking he knows best, and he can be a bit of a trial."
"I'm familiar with the trait," Tori said meaningfully. "Maybe we could double-team him."
Ana laughed delightedly. "I like her, James. She's not a fawner." To Tori she said, "Most of his women drip all over him. It's absolutely nauseating."
Tori was beginning to enjoy herself. Certainly she was enjoying the pained expression on James's face. "I'm standing right here," he reminded them. "And I thought you wanted to quiz your husband on the security details." He turned his sister firmly around. "He's over there by the windows. When you're finished with him go make sure Corley and Soulieu are ready to start."
"Okay." She began moving away. "I can take a hint."
"Not well," he muttered. Grasping Tori's elbow, he began leading her away. "Don't believe anything she says."
"I don't know." She pretended to consider. "Seems to me she had you dead to rights."
His cell phone rang again then and while he answered it she did another scan of the crowd. It had grown considerably in the past few minutes. Taking advantage of his distraction, she tagged on his sleeve. "I'm going to mingle." His answer, if he made one, was lost as she moved away.
James had just finished his phone conversation with Celia when he felt a clap on the shoulder. "Hell of a shindig you got going on here, son. Can't say I'm surprised."
The familiar voice elicited twin feelings of happiness and dismay. Turning around, he exchanged a handshake with Dale Cartwright and wished he'd had more time to prepare for this meeting.
"I didn't expect you until the engagement party later this week."
Dale beamed at him. "Got to thinking a few extra days in town wouldn't hurt a bit. Give me a chance to catch your expo and a little extra time to flirt with Ana. She here tonight?" He sent a searching gaze across the room. "Might steal her away from that new husband of hers to catch up. Shirley sent along pictures of the grand-kids, and Ana always gets a kick out of those."
The man never seemed to change. Big, bluff, hearty, with hair that had been gray for as long as James could remember. Shirley, his wife of forty years, matched him in looks and in personality. The two had been a mainstay in his life since he'd been able to walk. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine the man capable of anything as nefarious as the plot they'd uncovered.
He imagined Tori felt the same way about her own father.
"Ana's here." His next words, as distasteful as they were, had to be spoken. "I'm glad you came tonight, though. I've been wanting to talk to you."
"Well, shoot, son, why didn't you say so? Let's head out to a balcony." James set his empty glass down on a nearby tray and didn't pick up another. For as long as he remembered, Dale had been a nondrinker.
Once outside, he had difficulty summoning the necessary words. So he listened as Dale rambled about his wife, their travels and their grandchildren. It was several minutes before the man wound down, saying, "Well, listen to me go on. You had something you needed to talk to me about, and I haven't stopped rattling on for a minute. What'd you need? Business advice?"
James responded to Dale's hearty laugh with a faint smile. "I need you to help me understand some history. Specifically how you and my father parted ways after years of partnership."
Dale's laughter abruptly halted. Eyes narro
wed, he said, "That's old news, and better left alone. Why would you be asking about that after all these years?"
"Indulge me."
The man studied him a moment, a serious expression settled over his face. Finally he gave a slow nod. "All right. We wanted different things for the company, your father and me. We each had our own ideas for how to make it grow. Heck, you can imagine how that would be if you had a partner. You're a fella who thinks he knows how things should be done. Take a couple strong-willed guys like your dad and me, and we didn't always agree, I can tell you that."
James looked away. It was hard to have this conversation with a man he respected. One he loved. Harder yet to deal with the uncertainty of what had transpired all those years ago. "You had an alcohol problem, I heard. It affected your work. Affected the business."
Dale took a step back, leaned heavily on the balcony railing. "Yep. I sure did." He waited for James's gaze to meet his again. "It's not something I'm proud of, but it's something I deal with every day of my life. I'm an alcoholic, son. Been on the wagon more than eighteen years, but it doesn't change what I am. They say everyone of us has to hit rock bottom before we admit we have a problem. Well, your dad shoving me out of the business was the beginning of my bottom. It took me three years to forgive him. Another three to get sober."
"But you did forgive him," James probed. He wanted, badly, to believe him. He wanted it to be the truth.
Now it was Dale who looked away. "I loved that man like a brother. Loved you kids like my own. That didn't change, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't angry with him at the time. I had my problems, God knows, I'm not denying it. But shoot, son, we were all young upstarts back then, wild in our own way. With me it was drinking. Marcus liked to gamble more than he should have, and Celia … well, your father nearly fired her when we found out she'd been consorting with one of our rivals."
James felt like the recipient of one too many right jabs. "I never heard that about Marcus. And Celia … who was she involved with?"
