by Dean Atwood
All of her personal items were in the overnight bag she’d kept in the overhead bin. The stranger hadn’t offered to carry it for her. She would’ve declined his offer anyway, but she couldn’t help judging him for his lack of gallantry.
“That’s my driver over there,” he said, pointing to a man who was holding a sign.
Lieutenant Mad was taken aback when she saw the name written on it. “By any chance, are you the same Ted Danziger who works for Upshaw Corporation?” she said.
“Have you heard of me?”
“Yes, of course. You’re well-known in the tech world.”
“I do have a reputation among the masses, don’t I?” he said.
“That’s an understatement,” she said, feeding his ego while thinking to herself, What a conceited ass.
“Where are my manners. I should’ve introduced myself when we first met. As you now know, I’m Ted Danziger — at your service. I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“I’m Sandy ... Sandy Foot,” she said, the words sticking on her tongue.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Sandy.”
“Likewise,” she said and offered up her limp hand for a dainty handshake, which was totally out of character for the lieutenant, but seemed to her to be appropriate for Sandy.
They followed the driver to the limo. He opened the trunk and placed the lieutenant’s overnight bag and Danziger’s briefcase inside.
“You’re traveling light,” she said. “You don’t strike me as the type of man who would wear the same clothes more than one day, especially if he’d slept in them.”
“You’re quite right. I do have an image to maintain. I’m having a suitable wardrobe delivered to my suite today. The clothes I’m wearing were for my day trip to Charlottesville only. What about you? I doubt a classy woman like you could fit everything she needed into that one small bag.”
“It holds more than it looks,” she said. “Besides, I’m a low maintenance woman.”
“You look well-maintained to me.”
“Thanks ... I think.”
“It was meant as a compliment.”
After closing the trunk, the limo driver opened the car door for Sandy, and she slid onto the seat. Danziger waited until the driver came around and opened the other passenger door for him.
Once inside, Danziger was the first to speak. “I’m curious why you came to this symposium? Tech conferences are rather dull, don’t you think?”
“Mostly, but they’re a good forum to network. And at this event, I’m particularly interested to hear Anne Upshaw’s take on current and future technology trends.”
“I suppose she has her following. Most people don’t realize she’s just the face of the corporation. She has a colorful family history, and it’s good for press relations to have a woman CEO. As VP of Operations, I’m the one who runs the company on a day-to-day basis. If you’d met her in person, you’d see as I do that she’s ninety-nine percent hype and one percent substance.”
“That’s an interesting way to describe your boss.”
With Danziger’s hairdo, it was difficult to say for sure, but at least metaphorically, he bristled. Visually, the lieutenant could see his face turn pink. “I’m a major stockholder of Upshaw Corporation. I consider myself a co-owner,” he said, “not an employee.”
“If the press is deliberately building up her image, they’re doing an excellent job of it. She’s considered a role model for many young women executives. I’d love to meet her and assess her substance for myself. Do you think you could arrange it?”
“Could I arrange it? Of course, I could arrange it, if I were inclined to do so. What’s in it for me?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you did something nice for a stranger?” she said in a questioning tone.
He chuckled and said, “I’m not in the habit of doing favors for strangers — but an attractive woman like you could convince me to do it.”
“And how, pray tell, might I do that?”
“Have a nightcap with me and we’ll discuss options.”
“It sounds delightful but unfortunately I’ve already scheduled a business meeting for tonight. How about getting together for breakfast in the morning?”
“I have a suite of rooms on the top floor. You can join me there after your meeting and I’ll have breakfast delivered for us in the morning.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for an in-room breakfast. After all, we did only meet fifteen minutes ago. What if we meet for breakfast in the hotel restaurant around seven tomorrow?”
“You’re a tough negotiator. I like that. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll go to the gauche hotel restaurant with you tomorrow morning and I’ll even introduce you to Anne after breakfast, if you do something for me.”
“What?”
“Go to dinner with me tomorrow night and have that nightcap with me afterward.”
“It’s a deal.”
“Good. Now that we’ve finished negotiations, we have a few minutes to get acquainted before we arrive at the hotel. Tell me about yourself. Who is Sandy Foot?”
“Sandy Foot is boring. I’d much rather we talk about you.”
“Come now, you’re being too modest. A beautiful woman like you, travelling alone on a train, riding in first class, going to a technology conference. You seem quite mysterious to me.”
“There’s nothing mysterious about me. I’m an entrepreneur, who’s looking for funding for a technology business. What better place than a technical symposium to network with people who’d be interested in partnering with me.”
“I don’t mean to be blunt, but an entrepreneur is a visionary who invests money to make their vision a reality. A person with lofty ideas and no money is just a dreamer and a beggar.”
“I’m not penniless. I’ve invested some of my own money, but I need additional financing to grow my business. It’ll be a great opportunity for some forward-thinking person or investment group. Of course, I’ll want to maintain the controlling interest, but when the venture is proven successful, there’ll be plenty of profits to share.”
“What you’re looking for is an angel investor.”
“Yes, do you know any?”
“Perhaps, I’d be interested in becoming an angel investor, myself, under the right circumstances.”
“Really?” Sandy (aka Lieutenant Mad) said, surprised.
“I’ll tell you what. You fill me in about your company at dinner tomorrow ... and if things go well after our nightcap, maybe we can do some business together.”
“That would be great,” she said, pretending she didn’t pick up on his implied sexual innuendo.
The limo stopped in front of the Westin Hotel. “Here we are,” Danziger said.
“That was quick. Thanks for saving me from the shuttle bus.”
“Nothing but first class for the women with Ted Danziger.”
The lieutenant exited from the limo and waited near the trunk until it clicked and raised open. She reached inside and took out her bag. Danziger waited for the driver to open his door, retrieve his briefcase, and hand it to him. He walked beside Sandy but stayed a couple of steps ahead of her to arrive at the front desk first.
“Good evening, Mr. Danziger,” the clerk said with deference. “We’ve been expecting you” He handed him two keycards. “Your luggage is already in your suite as you requested. Do you need assistance getting to your room?”
“No, I can find my way.”
Danziger handed one of the keycards to Sandy and said, “In case you change your mind about room service breakfast. I’ll be awake late tonight — and I’m an early riser.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied as he walked away.
“May I help you,” the desk clerk said. “Will you be joining Mr. Danziger, or do you have a separate reservation?”
“I have my own room,” she said indignantly.
“Your name?”
“Sandy Foot.”
“Yes, I have your
reservation here, Ms. Foot.”
“I’ll be meeting a business associate this evening. His name is Quinton Target. He’ll be arriving within the next hour. Please give him my room number, so he can call me.”
“Certainly,” Ms. Foot. “Will he be joining you in your room or does he have his own reservation?”
Sandy was quick to answer, “No, he’s not staying with me. He’s made his own accommodations.”
The lieutenant shook her head and smiled as she walked to the elevator. A few days ago, she was a dysfunctional, unbathed, near-homeless woman who most men wouldn’t give a second look. This evening, she’d been propositioned by a rich, handsome (albeit arrogant) stranger and anticipated spending the night in her room with a different, even more attractive man.
Life sure can change in a hurry.
Chapter 45
B laire looked around and assessed her predicament. For starters, she was conscious and had no recollection of losing consciousness. Those were good signs. She was upside-down, which was disorienting, but not an immediate danger unless the van started on fire. She was able to wiggle her arms and legs without pain, so she assumed nothing was paralyzed or broken. Since she couldn’t feel any blood seeping out of her body, she deduced that she wasn’t hemorrhaging profusely. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for Thomason. The brunt of the truck collision was on the passenger’s side of the van. He was semiconscious and moaning. Blood was dripping from his forehead onto his face.
“What the hell happened?” he said in a moment of awareness before fading into unconsciousness again.
She heard the roar of the pickup truck engine and the sound of tires moving on the shoulder of the road, followed by bright lights shining down the embankment where she and Thomason were trapped. The lights illuminated the front seat, which gave her a better view of Thomason. He was in even worse shape than she’d thought. He was covered with blood from his head down to his waist and he was making a gurgling sound in his throat.
She could see the deflated airbags in front of both of them. Something was impeding her movement, but it wasn’t the airbags. The seatbelt was still engaged. She struggled to release it, but it was jammed. She could feel the adrenalin course through her veins, triggering hyperarousal, also known as fight-or-flee response. As strong as the urges were, she couldn’t do battle or run away in her current restrained state. The sound of something or someone sliding down the embankment toward her, increased her urgency to free herself. She kicked her feet and pulled down on the seatbelt straps to no avail.
“Damn it,” a male voice said concurrently with the rustle of sliding debris as he slid down the bank.
The van had come to a stop at the bottom of the slope with the passenger side facing closest to the road. Blaire heard a crash and saw a foot come through the shattered glass window next to Thomason.
“What do you want?” Blaire said in a panicked voice. “I called 911. Emergency vehicles will be here soon. You better leave now while you have time.”
There was no verbal response from the man, only a large hand with a handgun in it, reaching through the window. The barrel was pointed against Thomason’s temple. The trigger was pulled twice. Each shot echoed loudly and caused Blaire’s ears to ring. She screamed and struggled harder to remove the seatbelt from her shoulders. Mixed with the ringing, she heard the man breathing heavily as he moved from the passenger’s side to the driver’s side of the vehicle.
He kicked at her window a couple of times before the big foot came crashing through, shattering the glass. She could feel pinpricks as the shards hit her skin. She pulled on the shoulder straps with all her might and screamed in frustration as they refused to break free.
A hopeless feeling came over her. Was this it? Was this how she was going to die? The image of one person came into her mind — QT. She wished there were second chances in life. She’d do things differently.
The blast from the gun was louder than the two shots that had entered Thomason’s skull. She totally lost her hearing. After a few seconds her hearing began to return, but the ringing lingered. There was no pain. She felt alert and conscious. Was this what being dead was like? She saw a hand with a knife come through the broken window. She made no attempt to get away from it. What was the use? She was already dead.
The knife cut across her seatbelt straps. She fell a short distance and landed on the inside of the van’s roof. Lying beneath her, she could feel her iPhone digging into her hip. She managed to get to her knees, pick up her phone, and crawl out the window. When she looked up, she saw a lanky man with a long beard standing over her, holding a knife in one hand and a rifle in the other. This definitely wasn’t St. Peter. On the ground next to the bearded man’s feet was a burly man who was face down with a bullet hole in the back of his head.
“Are you alright, Blaire?” the bearded man said.
“Do I know you?”
“No, I’m a friend of the lieutenant’s. She asked me to keep an eye on you.”
She stood up on wobbly legs. “I guess I’m alright,” she said, surprised. “I’m not dead, right?”
“Not yet, but I’d lay low for a while, if I were you. Somebody wants you dead and isn’t going to stop sending people after you until you are.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Is your phone working?”
Blaire pushed the home button on her iPhone and the main screen displayed. “Yes, it’s working.”
“Good. You can call 911. I don’t want to be here when the police arrive, so if you’re not hurt, I’m leaving now. When you tell them your story, I was never here, OK?”
“You’re an apparition. You were never here. I’ve got it.”
Rasputin climbed up the embankment and disappeared. Maybe he was an apparition or a guardian angel, Blaire thought. Did he say the lieutenant sent him? Whoever or whatever he was, she was glad he came to her rescue.
Chapter 46
Q uinton knocked on the hotel room door. After waiting a few moments without a response, he knocked again with extra force behind his rap.
“Who is it?” the seductive voice from inside the room said.
“It’s me, QT. Were you expecting someone else tonight?”
“A woman never knows what man might show up at her door, and what his motives might be.”
“I can assure you my motives are completely honorable.”
“Sometimes a woman likes to hear that — sometimes not.”
“I see. This is Lieutenant Mad’s room, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry. You must have gone to the wrong door. Sandy Foot is staying here tonight?”
This playfulness was an entirely new side of the lieutenant’s personality that QT hadn’t seen before. He was finding her unanticipated behavior to be very sexy. “Now that you mention it, as soon as I told the desk clerk my name, he interrupted me and said that Sandy Foot had authorized him to give me her room number.”
“I told him to provide the number, so you could call me. Since you didn’t call ahead of time, I wasn’t able to properly prepare.”
“It’s hard to believe a woman like you would be unprepared for any situation.”
“I just got out of the shower. Give me a minute to put on my robe.”
“Don’t do it on my account. I’m sure you’re very presentable with or without your robe.”
“Now you’re being naughty. I’m not sure it’s safe to let you in.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said as she slid the chain lock and opened the door.
Quinton had a huge smile on his face and lust in his eyes as he moved toward her. She took a couple of steps back and with her left hand closed the gaping silk bathrobe.
“Do you think you can come into a lady’s boudoir without calling in advance and have your way with her?”
“Yes, I was hoping to,” he said as he put his hands on her arms and pulled her close enough to him to bend down and press his
lips against hers.
She kissed him back at first, but then put her hands against his chest and pushed him gently to break off the kiss. “Now look what you’ve done,” she said as she removed her bathrobe and let it fall to the floor, revealing her new Victoria’s Secret underwear. “You’ve exposed me.”
“Not yet,” he said, “but I will.” He lifted her off the floor with his hands on her buttocks and she wrapped her legs around him as they passionately kissed. He walked her over to the bed and dropped her down. He removed his clothes while maintaining eye contact. He joined her on the bed and they continued kissing.
QT wasn’t sure where this relationship was going, but it didn’t matter right then. Like most men in his situation, lust was the driving force behind his actions. Serious thoughts about anything else wouldn’t enter his mind until later.
***
Quinton was lying on his back with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Sandy had her head on his shoulder and her hand lying across his chest.
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready for round two,” he said.
“Let’s see if we can speed it up a little bit,” she replied as she squirmed a little, rolled onto her side, draped her leg over his, and slid her hand from his chest down to his belly.
A phone rang and they both reacted by sitting up. Sandy realized from the ringtone that it wasn’t hers, so she lay her head back onto the pillow. QT crawled across the mattress and reached over the bottom of the bed to retrieve his phone from his pants, which were lying on the floor.
“Hello,” he said, out of sorts.
“QT, it’s me.”
“Blaire? I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. I thought you were out of town on assignment. Where are you?”
“I’m in Northern Virginia. Where are you?”
“It happens that I’m in Northern Virginia on assignment, too.”
“Really. Can you tell me about it or is it confidential?”
