“Jack Coffey in a nutshell, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why do I sense there’s more to you than fine wine and sushi?”
The lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Because you’re a woman and women see and feel things that men can’t even begin to comprehend.”
She hissed. “That’s such a copout.”
He laughed.
Kate couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually had a conversation with a man. It was interesting...nice. Although Jack claimed to be a simple man who enjoyed the little things in life, something told her he was more complicated than he liked people to believe. The fact that she was softening toward Coffey made her question her judgment. Jack was honest and straitlaced, too much so. But he had his limits. The thought of him dangling Charlie out the window was a good example. For the most part, he seemed to be cool and even-tempered. Not once had she seen him panic during his short stint as a pilot. Above all else, more than his lean, lithe body and good looks, the thing that rattled her about him most was his kindness.
Kate went back to staring at the road ahead of her. Jack Coffey was getting under her skin, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Although a part of her wanted to relax, wanted to let Jack handle things for a while, a bigger part of her, the part that couldn’t let go of her father’s image before he’d died, refused to allow her to let her guard down. She needed to remember why she was here and she needed to stay focused.
After a good night’s rest, she decided, she’d head off on her own. She didn’t need the complication of caring about someone else right now. She’d vowed long ago to avenge her father’s death, and nobody, including Jack Coffey, was going to stop her.
Chapter 7
If A.J. had his way, he and Becky would have left the fundraiser an hour after they arrived, but he kept reminding himself that this was Becky’s night. How many times was he going to get all decked out in a tuxedo, rented or otherwise, and take her to the Biltmore for caviar and expensive champagne? Sadly, the probability of it ever happening again was slim to none. But what did he care? He’d much rather be doing the tango in Becky’s bedroom. Never mind that she’d put his sultry moves and fancy footwork to shame earlier tonight. That hadn’t stopped him from working on bettering his posture and hip movement. There were three things about doing the tango in bed that intrigued him: it was challenging, fun, and it took two.
Upon re-entering the ballroom, he found Becky missing from the spot where he left her before he went in search of the men’s room. He scanned the ballroom, surprised to see his boss, Michael Harrison, chatting with Patrick Monahan. That in itself wouldn’t have struck him as odd had it been anyone other than Monahan. Monahan was the low guy on the totem pole in the FBI’s Computer Division. Not to mention, an odd duck. A man of so few words, he would have made Helen Keller seem chatty in comparison. And yet Harrison leaned close while Monahan burned a hole in his ear.
Becky waved a hand in the air, catching his eye.
Clearly, she was the most adorable woman in the room. Harrison’s wife, Sheila, an ex-Playmate, stood next to Becky. An unfortunate happenstance for Sheila considering Becky’s fresh, healthy just-had-sex glow would make the Hope Diamond look dull tonight. God, he was lucky.
“Hey, there you are,” he said to Becky as he approached the women.
“You remember Sheila,” Becky said, smiling.
“I do,” he said, sparing the other woman a glance.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Sheila said. “You’re a very lucky man.”
“Luckiest man alive.” He turned back to Becky, took her hand in his, and brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m going to say goodnight to Harrison and then we’ll head home if you’re ready.”
“I am a little tired,” Becky admitted, rehearsed code for ‘get me the hell out of here.’ She was a night owl, and the twinkle in her eye when she’d said the word ‘tired’ told him he was in for a gloriously long night.
He said goodbye to Sheila. Looking over his shoulder, he winked at Becky before heading off to see what Harrison and Monahan were up to. As soon as Monahan saw him heading their way, he sidestepped, clamped his hands behind his back, and feigned interest in the ballroom’s ambiance.
Not one to mince words or beat around the bush, A.J. said, “What are you two conspiring about?”
Nonplussed, Harrison smiled and said, “Patrick was just telling me a bit about your lovely fiancée.”
When Harrison failed to elaborate, A.J. cocked an eyebrow at Monahan. “And what exactly do you know about Becky?”
Monahan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Clearly Harrison was lying through his straight white teeth and Monahan had been caught off guard by Harrison’s lie. “Just that she seems like a nice girl,” Monahan managed.
Monahan was about as personable as Scrooge on Christmas Eve. “So, what’s the latest on Jack?” A.J. asked next.
That particular question appeared to cause Harrison to stumble slightly. He cleared his throat in order to regain his composure. “Have you talked to Jack?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“How would I know that, Hanson?”
Because the wiring of an agent’s cubicle would require your approval, sir
. A.J. kept his thoughts to himself and released a bit of hot air through his teeth instead. “Listen. Let’s not play games here. Jack’s a good guy. I know that. You know that. We all know that. But somebody has set the man up, and I, for one, don’t like it.”
“Jack Coffey was the last person to see Dr. Harold Forstin alive,” Monahan chimed in.
“Your friend is in serious trouble,” Harrison added. “That’s all there is to it. So don’t climb up on your high horse and pretend you don’t know as well as the rest of us that sometimes good people do bad things. It’s the way it is. Always has been, always will be.” Harrison straightened his bow tie. “Don’t worry, Hanson. Justice will prevail. It always does.”
Pete’s Palace at the end of the Vegas strip was showing its age. The landscaping left a lot to be desired with its dirty swimming pool and dead lawn. Beer bottles lined the dark unlit hallways. The place was deserted.
Jack slid his key into the rusty knob and opened the door to their room. Even in the dark it was hard to miss the ugly red carpet and the uneven patches of fungus on the walls. The room smelled like moldy cheese.
Jack had checked them into the hotel under the name Mr. and Mrs. Tom Peterson. While Kate looked over her purchases, he took a quick shower and rewrapped his side.
Kate was asleep by the time he left for the casino to leave a message for Harrison, telling his boss to meet him at the blackjack tables inside Caesar’s tomorrow at noon.
The more time Jack had to think about the mess he was in, the angrier he got. He was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. He’d spent most of his adult life fighting crime and injustice. Hell, he’d spent most of his childhood doing the same thing... in the classroom or on the playground to stick up for the underdog. And where had it gotten him? Las Vegas...running for his life, wanted for a murder he didn’t commit. He shoved a handful of coins into the telephone. Four rings sounded before he heard a click and then his mother’s voice. “Hello.”
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Jack! Oh, thank goodness!”
“I’m sorry about this mess. I didn’t murder anyone. I needed to call you and tell you that much.”
“We know that. We love you.”
There was a scuffle before his dad’s voice came on the line. “Stay low, Jack. Get out of Dodge, if you know what I mean.”
Jack heard voices in the background. The Feds were there. He had hoped they would leave his elderly parents out of this mess. “Are you and Mom okay?”
“We’re fine. You take care, son. We know you’re innocent.”
“Don’t hang up! We’re trying to get—”
His dad hung up the phone.
Jack listened to the dial tone for a moment. He shut his eyes, breathed in slowly and counted to five. His parents had been through enough; their young daughter taken from her bed while they slept...and now their son was wanted for murder.
Sadly, it had taken being framed for murder for Jack to be able to relate to what Kate must be going through. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Kate had spent the last ten years hiding, plotting, planning. For what? And why?
Jack could hardly handle a few days of this crazy game, let alone ten years. Knowing he had zero control over the situation was maddening. Who could he trust? Harrison? A.J.? Suddenly, everybody he knew was a stranger. The thought left a hollow pit in his gut. He’d set out all those years ago to make a difference, right a few wrongs, make the bad guys pay for their wrongful deeds. He’d worked nights and even weekends. And this is where it got him? Wanted for murder and running for his life? Framed by a couple of crazies who thought they could kick him around?
Not if he had anything to say about it.
With a new determination pumping through his veins, Jack headed past the hotel reservation desk. He found a lounge area where rows of computers were set up for guests of the hotel.
He was taking matters into his own hands. He was going to find out who was playing around with his future. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Heads were going to roll. Hacking into the Internet was as easy as one-two-three. Using an anonymous user name, he sent A.J. a cryptic message, letting him know where he was and telling his friend he could use some help. It took him a little longer to gather enough of Harrison’s personal information to hack into his bank accounts. He didn’t like what he saw. A two hundred and fifty thousand dollar deposit had been made just before Jack was sent to Haiti. Harrison’s new wife was a penniless ex-Playmate. More than once Harrison had mentioned that the two of them hit it off so well because they had come from families with little or no money. So it didn’t make sense that the large amount would be an inheritance.
What was Harrison up to?
Jack hit Exit when he saw security approaching.
“Are you staying at this hotel, sir?”
Jack nodded.
“Could I see your room key or ID?”
Jack gestured toward the door behind him where the blackjack tables could be found. “My wife has the key. Would you like me to get it for you?”
“Any form of ID will work. You can’t log on without a credit card. Can I see your card, sir?”
Jack chuckled. “I’m a bit of a computer illiterate, I’m afraid. My wife logged on for me before abandoning me for the tables. At this rate, I’ll be a poor man before the night is over.” He stood. “I’m finished though, so why don’t I call it a night and I promise to have everything I need the next time I use the computer.”
Jack turned and left before the man could say another word, disappointed that he hadn’t had more time on the computer. He wanted to look into the AidVac story and the demise of the two men Kate had talked about on the plane. He needed to find out why anyone would want to stop the discovery of the cure for AIDS. He was also curious as to whether Harrison had received large sums of money in the past. Nothing made sense. But all of that would have to wait since he’d lost his laptop on the plane.
Jack cut a path through the casino, his eyes fixated straight ahead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw security trying to catch up to him. Cutting a sharp right, Jack weaved his way through row after row of slot machines. Bells and whistles went off all around him. Second-hand smoke filled his lungs. He took a left, bumped into a woman. She threw curses at him, but he didn’t have time to stop and apologize.
A glance over his shoulder told him he wasn’t in the clear. He ran, ducking and weaving until he was finally lost in the crowd. He left the VW in the casino parking area and headed back for the hotel by foot. It was midnight by the time he arrived back at their room. Wet towels and dirty clothes lay on the floor in a heap. Kate was still asleep on the king-sized bed. The light from the television set threw shadows across her face. The sound was muted. She probably hadn’t slept in a real bed in ages.
Drip… Plop… Drip
.
He was a light sleeper. The leaky faucet guaranteed a long sleepless night. He grabbed a towel and tossed it into the sink to stop the noise. An open bag of potato chips lay on the nightstand next to Kate. She slept in a fetal position, wearing nothing but an over-sized T-shirt and a pair of lacey pink underwear.
He moved to the side of the bed and pulled the covers over her. For a moment, he stood there, watching as she slept. Seeing Kate safely tucked in bed sent a chill up his spine. After his sister went missing ten years ago, he’d often envisioned this same peaceful scene as the ending to his nightmare. His sister, Annie, had been abducted by a man she met over the Internet. Jack was twenty-two at the time, and his sister was two days shy of turning fourteen. Every day, for months after her abduction, Jack visited all the places Annie loved best, determined to find her and bring her home. The horrible nightmare changed the course of his life when he left law school to join the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Two years later, his parents received a call...the badly decomposed remains of a young female had been found less than ten miles from their home. But because the body was so badly decomposed they still didn’t know if it was Annie, leaving Jack to cling to the possibility of finding her someday...maybe spot her at a café or catch a glimpse of her walking on the street as he drove by. She would be twenty-four now. Maybe she’d been brainwashed into thinking she was somebody else. Recently, Jack had tried to convince his parents to request that more testing be done on the remains. With all of the new forensic analysis available, the truth of Annie’s fate might very well be revealed, but his parents hadn’t been ready for the truth. Not yet, not now, maybe never.
His stomach contracted into a tight ball.
He headed for the bathroom and went to the sink where he filled a glass with water and tossed down a couple of Advil. Kate was right. He had his demons. But he didn’t see any reason to talk about them with anyone. They were his demons, and he’d deal with them in his own way and in his own time.
Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he set it on the dresser, clicked off the television set, and settled onto the empty side of the bed. He propped his arms under his head and for the next two hours he stared at the ceiling.