Big Easy Temptation, page 23
“But you haven’t been single. You’ve been dating that cop, right? What’s his name? Charles? Chazz?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, his name is Chazz. A very traditional New Orleans name.”
So he wasn’t going to fool her. “Fine. Chad. I know his name. I’ve memorized a whole lot of things about that asshole.”
“Why would you know anything about him?”
Confession time . . . “Because I’ve watched you ever since I woke up in a Vegas hotel room and realized I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’ve kept up with your social media.”
She huffed, sounding shocked. “I unfriended your ass.”
“Yeah, well, I might or might not have made up another identity.” It wasn’t something he was proud of.
“Stalker.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, I thought you would view it that way, but I needed to know you were all right.” He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. In the beginning, he’d wanted to see if she was as miserable as he’d been. He’d been desperate to know that he wasn’t alone in his agony. “I didn’t talk to you or anything, just sent you a friend request as a second cousin on your mother’s side.”
She looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “You’re Sissie Mae who raises labradoodles? You send out an awful lot of cat videos, too.”
Damn his friends. “Yeah, Mad set that sucker up. I was back on my boat and it was easier for him to do it. I asked him to make me a male cousin. Someone with a job. Naturally, I become Sissie Mae, lover of all animals and reader of cat mysteries. Did you know there’s such a thing as cat mysteries? It’s apparently a whole genre. I haven’t figured out if the cat solves the mystery or is the mystery. Mad had a weird sense of humor.”
“Unbelievable,” she breathed. “You know I could accuse you of stalking me and ruin your career.”
She could, but he knew her. She wouldn’t. “Like I said. I never contacted you personally after the initial friend request. I just wanted to see what you were up to.”
“Or you wanted to monitor me to make sure I didn’t come after your family again.”
How long would it be before she stopped putting the worst spin on his every move? “Maybe in the beginning, but you made me believe that. You painted yourself as someone who would ruin everyone I cared about. You can’t blame me for that. I even argued with you. I told you I thought you were innocent.”
For a moment she looked as if she might snap out a rebuttal, but she heaved a long sigh. “I know I did. You’re right. I can’t blame you for that. But I need you to keep some distance from me now, Spencer. I admit that I want to catch these guys, too. I want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be around you.”
All he wanted was a chance. “We start over again.”
“I can’t do it,” she said, her voice small.
He wanted to haul her close but maintained his distance. “Holland, at one point in time we were friends. Pretty good friends. And you trusted me. Can we forget about what happened this afternoon? I was bitter and angry and I lashed out at the one person I should never hurt. Let’s try again. Hey, Holland. How have you been?”
She laughed, though he couldn’t call it a happy sound. “That is never going to work, but you’re not going to give up, are you?”
It was so funny that he’d come to New Orleans thinking that he could get back at her. Now he only wanted to get her back. “I can’t. It’s too important. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll concentrate on the case. I’ll sleep out here on the couch like a good boy, but I’m not leaving you alone. Tomorrow, we sit down and figure out where to go from here. I’ll give you access to everything I’ve learned and you now have clearance that would make your boss’s head spin.”
That finally got her to smile. “Okay, that does sound kind of fun, but no funny business, Spencer.”
He held his hands up in a likely useless gesture of innocence. “Promise. It’s nothing but business from here on out. I will warn you, though, that at some point we’re probably going to have to meet up with a . . . what should I call Freddy? A conspiracy enthusiast? A doomsday prepper? Mostly he’s a complete lunatic who thinks nothing of nearly deballing a simple intruder, but apparently he’s really handy at uncovering whether a piece of film is authentic or faked. Connor wants him to take a look at the video from the motel and the pictures in your uncle’s file. And speaking of your uncle . . .”
Dax didn’t want to get into this with her, but he didn’t see a way to avoid it.
She shook her head. “He wasn’t the only one with access to the file. Most of it can be found in the police records. He kept the photos out of the press. He didn’t have to use them since there wasn’t going to be a prosecution.”
“Was he the only one who knew about them?”
“Not at all. He wasn’t even the one who originally discovered the photos. Sue Carlyle brought them in. She was the one who figured out there was a camera on her daughter’s purse. She simply didn’t know how to get them off the drive. The pictures themselves were wirelessly pulled from the small camera that was really a microcomputer. Once Sue realized what it was, she thought the police would give her money for the camera. She was deeply disappointed, to say the least.”
He was still interested in her uncle. Someone had tipped off the Russians that she’d obtained the file and seen the images. “Where did you go after you visited your uncle that day?”
She frowned. “You think someone in my uncle’s office could have known? You’re looking for a mole.”
“Yes. Someone tipped off your dead Bratva lawyer.”
She was quiet for a moment, seeming to think. “He didn’t have to know I had the photos. All he had to do was plant them with the press or put the idea out there.”
“No, he actually gave a reporter the photos and they appeared to have come from you. We’ve tracked down this lead.” He briefly went over what Roman and Connor had discovered. “The reporter received information about the photos from an e-mail account set up in your name. It originated from a computer at a public library in New Orleans. As soon as the photos-for-cash deal was sealed, the account was shut down. Same with the book deal. The publishing house received a proposal for a tell-all book about the scandal and my family from that same e-mail account. They made sure all roads led back to you. But what I find interesting is that you actually had the photos they said you did.”
He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. She’d had the photos, and someone had known it.
“All right. I’ll ask my uncle if he told anyone,” she conceded. “Obviously everyone saw me go in that day. After I went back to my office, I studied the file at my desk.”
“Did you leave it there for any reason?”
She nodded. “I got upset. I went to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm down because I saw those pictures. It was on my desk, but you can’t think one of my coworkers is a plant for the Russian mob.”
He didn’t like to think about what she’d gone through that day. “Not a plant, but the government pays crap. An unscrupulous someone could have made a little money on the side. I’ll have Connor scope that out.”
Her cheeks flushed, her shoulders straightening. Her mouth flattened into a stubborn line. She was ready to do battle. “Don’t mess with my coworkers.”
The time had come for Dax to explain just how the situation had changed, because apparently she hadn’t internalized it yet. “Special Agent, they are no longer your coworkers. For the rest of this assignment you work for the White House and the White House alone. This is no longer about someone coming after my family. Someone is coming after my president. I took an oath a long time ago to defend this country from all invaders foreign and domestic, and if that includes one of your former coworkers, then you better believe I will take them down with extreme prejudice. If your loyalty is deeper to the people you once shared an office with than to your country, then let me know because you’re not the woman I thought you were.”
Her jaw tightened and she held up her hands in obvious capitulation. “All right. Check into their backgrounds. Please do it quietly. I have to work there after you’re gone. Those people are the only friends I have left. And if you’re also going to look into the NOLA PD, dear god, don’t let anyone know. They get touchy.”
He would look into her uncle, but he was also interested in her boyfriend. Detective Chad Michaels was her uncle’s right-hand man, looking to move up in the ranks from what Dax had heard. It was shockingly easy to find information on the man, but something about his astringently clean record made Dax suspicious.
Everyone was a little dirty. Not criminally so, but there wasn’t a person he knew who didn’t have some breath of scandal in their past . . . except Detective Chad.
“I’ll be very discreet.”
“Sure you will.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t think because you’ve put me in a corner professionally that you can get anything personal out of this, Spencer.”
What he wouldn’t give to hear her call him Dax again. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Holland.”
“All right. In the morning, we need to come up with a plan of action. I think we should go back out to the prison, but this time we don’t call ahead. I don’t think we should give anyone time to plan for our visit. Do you have all the video we need? It should be easy enough to get. I can requisition the original if you like.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got everything we need.”
She was still for a moment. “You really think they’re after Zack.”
He nodded. “I can feel it in my gut. This is bigger than we ever dreamed and we’ve already lost so much. Zack’s mom. My dad. Joy. Mad. We can’t let them take anyone else in our family.”
“What does the Russian mob want from him?”
That was the billion-dollar question. “It could be anything, but I suspect this all revolves around money and power. Nefarious shit usually does. We’re wondering if Zack’s father made some deal with the Bratva when he was stationed in Moscow and they’re now coming to collect. Roman is making a list of all the major contracts coming up, but Zack doesn’t approve those.”
Holland frowned. “Why would they have waited so long to make their move?”
Again, he had no idea. “It’s possible Frank Hayes promised the Russians something when Zack became president, so they’ve bided their time. But the old man has dementia now, so if they’re waiting for him to strong-arm Zack into something, they’re doomed to disappointment. He mostly shuffles around the residence and hums a lot. Sometimes he thinks it’s the sixties again. Zack tried finding a memory care facility for him, but he got so violent the press reported on it. He’s calm when he knows Zack’s close by. Hopefully, if we figure out why they killed my father, we’ll figure out what they want and we’ll stop them. My father must have known something. That’s why they silenced him. I need to find his old aide-de-camp, Peter Morgan. He’s the key.”
“And naturally he’s off the grid and his whereabouts are unknown.”
“We’ll find him. His family was from New Orleans. I’ll stay up for a bit and do a little research. You should get some sleep,” Dax murmured, wishing he could take her in his arms.
It had been a rough day for her. When she’d opened the door earlier, the sight of her tears had kicked him in the gut. Holland was always strong, and the idea that seeing him again had undone her, even temporarily, made him feel about two feet tall.
“Fine.” She turned and started to walk away. When she reached the hall to her bedroom, she stopped, her spine ramrod straight, head held high. She didn’t face him. “Did you ever love her?”
His heart clenched for a second. Easiest answer he’d given her all day. “No.”
“That makes it worse, Dax.” She walked away and closed the door quietly.
His heart sank. He’d lashed out and made that stupid-ass mistake when he’d been angry and in pain. It had affected them deeply, but then they’d both screwed up. She should have trusted him with the truth. She had to have known he’d never put his mother and sister in danger. That he’d move heaven and earth to keep Holland safe.
Still, someone had to give in, and his mistake had been far worse. He’d make the first gesture. Maybe he could finally win her once and for all. This was his first night back in her life and he was already sleeping on her couch. He remembered where that had led the last time.
And she’d called him Dax.
He sat down in front of his computer and started his search, more hopeful than he’d been in years.
* * *
Holland pressed the button on the coffeemaker and sighed as she looked around her kitchen. Her houseguest was far too used to a maid apparently. Or having a whole boat of underlings eager to curry favor and clean up after the boss. She knew he’d been on leave for a while, and it seemed to have played hell with his normal cleanliness.
The half-empty pizza box still sat out on the bar. The wine bottle was corked but his whiskey sat open, tempting her. The only thing he’d cleaned up was the couch. She saw no sign that he’d slept there at all. She’d glanced into the hall closet and noted he’d neatly folded and stacked his sheets, along with the crappiest blanket and pillow she owned. This morning she felt vaguely guilty for what must have been an uncomfortable night.
Around her, the scene looked as if she’d enjoyed a nice date the night before. Or a work-related evening. It certainly hadn’t been a date. Papers and pictures from the case files littered her dining room table. His laptop still sat there and she wondered how late he’d stayed up.
She tried not to think about the fact that she’d slept well for once. And dreamed about him. It wasn’t like she didn’t do that often. It was simply that this time the dream hadn’t morphed into something terrible. This time, he’d held her and made love to her and begged her forgiveness. His hands had moved over her body, offering repentance with every hungry stroke.
Nope. She wasn’t going to think about that.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and wondered how long he’d been in the shower. She could hear it running in the guest bathroom. He was in the bathroom—naked. Had his body changed? His heart? What had happened during the years they’d spent apart? She’d studied him the night before and beyond the change in his hair length, she’d seen a few small lines around his eyes that betrayed the three years that had passed.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall of her living room. What did Dax see? Had she changed in the three years since she’d pushed him away? She saw a woman dressed in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt that covered her properly. No more sexy things for Holland. She’d thrown them all out.
She’d also thrown out so much of her sexuality the minute she’d lost Dax. Was that why it hadn’t worked with any other man? Had she been part of the problem because she lacked some sensual quality? Or was she a sad sack who had given her heart once and her body had followed?
When Dax touched her the night before, her skin had come alive again. She hadn’t felt as if she’d truly been living for three long years.
The shower turned off and she could picture him stepping out, his body glistening with moisture. Once, she’d loved to shower with him. Silly thing. She’d been with the man for such a short time and yet they’d made their own rituals, which she missed to this day. She used to hop in the shower to get ready for work and Dax would inevitably follow. Often they stayed there entwined until the water went cold.
How could she miss something she’d never really had? She’d dated Chad for so much longer. Yet with the exception of the humiliating Internet video, she couldn’t single out a memorable moment they’d shared. Being alone again had been a guilty relief.
Despite the fourteen months she’d spent with Chad, they’d never gotten around to moving in together. Never even talked about it. Dax had practically moved in the night he’d returned to her.
She had to wonder if he wasn’t re-creating the damn scenario. He’d fallen asleep that first night on her couch and the night before he’d positioned himself right back there again.
How long would she really be able to hold out when she already wanted him so badly?
She heard a knock on her door. Muttering a little curse, she swore once again she would change the downstairs code. This time she looked through the peephole, anticipating that Gemma or someone else from work had come to ask why the holy hell she was now on a presidential task force of two.
Nope. It was so much worse.
With a long sigh, she opened the door. “Hello, Chad.”
Chad Michaels stood in her doorway, his suit pressed to perfection. Somehow he managed to look neat even in the heat of a New Orleans morning. Her hair was already curling, but his blond perfection was ruthlessly gelled back in a sleek do. “Holland. I’ve heard some very distressing rumors and I wanted to stop by to check in on you.”
He stepped into her apartment without an invitation.
“This is really not a good time.” She wasn’t sure how the hell she was going to explain the man in the bathroom. Unfortunately, unlike Chad, Dax’s grooming routine didn’t take an hour. Dax pretty much showered and brushed his teeth and called it good. Chad could spend hours on his man moisturizer and plucking invisible hairs from his brows.
Why had she slept with him?
He smiled down at her and she could smell his powerful cologne. “You didn’t change the code to the stairway. Someone’s having second thoughts, I think.”
“Yes, I am definitely having second thoughts about changing the code.” She would do it the minute she got rid of him.
He chuckled. “I pushed you too hard. It was too fast. Everyone knows I go after what I want. That works for me most of the time. I didn’t mean to upset you. I think we should talk. We both said a few things we didn’t mean last week.”
She couldn’t think of a single thing she hadn’t meant. “I only said no. I meant that, Chad. Look, I’m so sorry I turned you down in such a public manner. I would never have willingly humiliated you. But you didn’t exactly consult me beforehand. I never gave you any indication that I wanted to marry you.”
