Seduction Game

  Nick wondered how McBride would react if he got a collect call from a federal detention center. “Thanks for the good news.”

  “Stay positive.” Rensler clapped him on the shoulder. “In ten days, I expect you’ll be a free man.”

  Nick followed Rensler out of the meeting room and was waiting for the guards to take him back to his cell when he heard the clinking of chains. He turned his head.

  Bauer.

  Blood pounded inside his skull. “You son of a—”

  The guards grabbed Nick’s arms, one on each side, holding him back.

  “You look good in orange, Bauer. I guess you better get used to it.”

  Bauer’s face flushed angry red, his gaze focused on his feet as he walked by.

  “You have so much blood on your hands—Dani, Carver, Daly, McGowen.” The guards were pulling Nick now, but he wasn’t done. “You not only brought yourself down, you brought your old man down, too. You trashed the family legacy. How does that feel? You miserable son of a bitch!”

  “Andris! That piece of shit isn’t worth it. You want to get tazed?”

  Heart still thrumming, Nick let himself be led away.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Holly was discharged the following Monday. Because neither of her parents were around—a good thing, really—Kara drove her home, walking with her to her door and insisting on carrying the small plastic bag of belongings Holly had brought home with her from the hospital.

  She unlocked the door and stepped inside her own home for the first time in almost a month. The place was immaculate. Her friends had come over during the weekend to clean it for her and remove any sign that the place had been a crime scene. They’d also stocked the refrigerator with easy-to-make meals so she wouldn’t have to go grocery shopping for a while.

  “Thanks, Kara.” She gave her best friend a hug—or half a hug.

  Her left side still hurt a lot, and it was hard to move her arm.

  “You’re welcome. Is there anything you need?”

  Nick. She needed to be with Nick.

  “No, thanks. You all have done so much for me.”

  “It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for any of us.” Kara kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest, and call if you need anything.”

  And for the first time in what seemed forever, Holly was completely alone.

  * * *

  Holly spent the first few days after her discharge sleeping, but by the fourth day, she was starting to go stir-crazy. She felt irritable, angry, out of sorts, her entire life up in the air. She wasn’t strong enough to go back to work, which is where most of her friends were, and didn’t want to spend another minute with her parents, who, thankfully, were flying out tonight anyway.

  She called the paper to talk with Beth, but Beth was too busy. She went for a walk, but found herself out of breath before she reached the corner. She made herself some iced tea, and curled up on the sofa with one of her favorite romance novels, hoping to distract herself by reading, but she couldn’t keep her gaze on the page.

  No matter what she did, her thoughts kept returning to Nick.

  What was he doing now? Did he miss her the way she missed him? Had his feelings for her begun to fade?

  If she’d known how much worry came from loving someone, she might have sent herself a memo telling herself not to fall for the handsome next-door neighbor who kidnapped her, no matter how sexy he was or how good he was in bed or how much he seemed to understand her. Then again, she couldn’t imagine a world in which she wouldn’t love him.

  Look at yourself! You’re a wreck.

  She was stuck on him, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

  She called Zach, begged him to contact the detention center. “Please, just tell him I love him. I miss him so badly.”

  “His motions hearing is tomorrow morning. Can you hold out for another twenty-four hours?”

  “I suppose so. I don’t know.” She needed to get a grip, grow up. Instead, she dissolved into tears. “No.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

  Now that the tears had started, the words came bubbling out. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore? What if being away from me makes him realize that it was just the adrenaline? What if—”

  “Holly.” Zach chuckled. “I haven’t seen many men as desperately in love as he is. Trust me on this. But, hey, why don’t I come by, pick you up, and bring you to the office. I’ll make up a reason to call him, and you can listen on the line. How’s that?”

  Relief rushed through her, sweet and bright. “Zach, you’re the greatest.”

  * * *

  Nick was reading a biography about the Wright brothers and struggling to keep his attention on the narrative when one of the guards interrupted him.

  “You’ve got a call, Andris.”

  Nick stood, waited for them to open the door and attach the restraints, then shuffled after them down the hall to one of the enclosed phone booths.

  He sat and waited for them to transfer the call, wondering what news Rensler had for him now. He was surprised to hear McBride’s voice. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “I have someone here who is desperate to know how you’re doing. I’ve advised her not to say anything, but she is listening.”

  Nick’s heart skipped a beat, then seemed to jump up and down.

  Holly.

  Holly was listening. She could hear him.

  “I’m okay.” Hell, in this moment, he was better than okay.

  “Are they treating you well?” McBride asked.

  “Yeah, no worries there. I’m in protective isolation, so the only real danger is dying of boredom.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s good. She looks great. She looks fantastic, really. She’s wearing . . . What? Okay . . . a blue sheath dress by Armani and a pair of black Jimmy Choo pumps.”

  Nick knew Holly had made Zach say that. He didn’t know what any of that meant, but it sounded beautiful. “I’m wearing prison orange and five days of unshaved beard, but I’m getting a haircut before the hearing tomorrow.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “How is she, really?”

  “She’s healing, but she really misses you.”

  Nick’s mind filled with an image of Holly’s sweet face. “I miss her, too. I miss her so damned much. I hate that I can’t be with her now. She’s been through such a rough time, and I think she needs me. As soon as I’m out of here, I’m coming to see her. If I don’t get out . . . God, I hope she waits for me, no matter how long it takes. There will never be anyone else for me. She’s all I think about. I love her.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence as Nick realized he’d just babbled a few Hallmark cards’ worth of mushy stuff over the phone to a man he barely knew, a chief deputy US marshal at that.

  “Um . . . Right.” McBride cleared his throat. “She feels the same way.”

  There was so much more Nick wanted to say, but not with McBride listening. “Take care of her.”

  “You got it. And good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. And, hey, McBride, I owe you.”

  “Yeah, you do—but not for this.”

  Nick shuffled back to his cell with a smile on his face.

  * * *

  The adrenaline was gone, and Nick still loved her.

  Holly was too happy, too excited—and frankly too nicely dressed—to go home and be alone right now. Zach dropped her off at the newspaper, which wasn’t far from his office. She would have taken a cab, but he’d insisted.

  The walk to the front door left her a little out of breath. Wearing a bra wasn’t easy either, the wing passing over her incision and hugging tightly against the rib the bullet had broken in her side, but she put the discomfort out of her mind.

  Her heart still soaring, she stepped into the front lobby and waved to the security guard, “Hi, Cormac.”

  He gaped at her. “Ms. Bradshaw? Welcome back! You loo
k . . . great.”

  She smiled, so filled with happiness she thought she might pop. “Thank you. What a sweet thing to say.”

  Aware that people were staring at her, she walked to the elevator and took it to the third floor, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. She stepped out and headed straight back to Entertainment, her three-inch heels clicking sweetly on the tile. The familiar scents of newsprint and coffee filled her head, made her feel at home. She had missed this place, missed her coworkers, missed writing.

  She saw Beth in her office and waved, then walked toward her desk, thinking she would catch up on voice mails, maybe check her email. But when she reached her desk, she found it stripped clean, all of her personal belongings sitting on top in a cardboard box.

  “What is this?”

  Beth walked up behind her. “I think you should go talk to Tom.”

  Holly turned to face her. “Did you all give me up for dead?”

  The answer was in Beth’s eyes. “Go talk to Tom.”

  A knot of dread in her stomach, Holly cut through Sports, making her way toward the back corner of the newsroom that was reserved for the editor and the I-Team.

  A new sports intern looked her up and down. “Who is that?”

  “Holly Bradshaw, one of the entertainment writers,” came a hushed reply. “Forget about her, bro. You’ll never tap that. She’s a fucking CIA officer.”

  The male attention barely registered with her, either to impress or to offend her. She was used to it. Besides, her mind was on what she’d seen in Beth’s eyes.

  “Holly?” Laura stood. “I didn’t think you’d be back at work so soon.”

  “I’m not really back—not yet.”

  “Hey!” Sophie smiled, got to her feet. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “I came in to check email and get caught up on phone messages, but all my stuff is in a box. Beth wouldn’t say, but I think I’ve been fired.”

  Matt and Alex had joined them now.

  “God, Holly, I’m so sorry,” Matt said. “That doesn’t seem right.”

  “It’s not right.” Alex looked toward Tom’s office.

  “You’re looking kind of pale,” Laura said, pulling out a chair. “Come here and sit down for a minute and catch your breath.”

  But Tom had heard them. He opened his door. “Bradshaw, get in here.”

  Holly had watched her friends put up with his verbal abuse for years. She’d never confronted him because she’d needed the job in order to do her work as an NCO—and because it hardly fit her persona to chew him up and spit him out.

  But things were different now. She didn’t need to hide who she was from her friends or the world.

  “I’m not a dog, Tom. I don’t come running when people shout my name. If you want me to come into your office, find a civil way of asking.”

  His face turned red. “Ms. Bradshaw, will you please come here?”

  “Yes, Mr. Trent.” She smiled to her friends, saw the hope and worry on their faces, their support precious to her. She stepped into Tom’s cluttered, stuffy office and sat, her pulse picking up, butterflies in her stomach.

  Why should she feel nervous around him? She’d faced spies, criminals, even murderers. He was just an editor with a bad temper to match his bad hair. If he fired her, she would bounce back.

  If he fired her . . .

  She loved this job. She didn’t want to lose it.

  Tom closed the door, walked around to the other side of his desk, and sat. “In light of revelations about your real job, I am terminating your employment with this newspaper effective today.”

  She’d expected this, and still his words left her stunned. “My work here has always been far above average. I’ve always met deadline, and I’ve won lots of state journalism awards. What about my job performance justifies termination?”

  “While you were meeting deadline and winning those awards, you were actually working for the CIA and using my newsroom as cover.”

  “I was a non-cover officer, meaning I had no cover. This was my real job. Right now, it’s my only job. I’m leaving the Agency. I planned to continue working here as my sole source of employment.”

  “Sounds like you need to make new plans. You were dishonest with us. For years, you misled us.”

  “I never lied to anyone. You never once asked me whether I had another job. Not once did I disclose anything I knew about activities or stories at the newspaper to anyone at the Agency. You have absolutely no reason—”

  “In Colorado, I don’t need a reason.” He glared at her through unfeeling blue eyes. “You might be able to excuse what you did, but you used my paper.”

  “I never—”

  “Did you or did you not write an article about Sachino Dudaev as a way to connect with him on behalf of the Central Intelligence Agency?”

  Well, he had her there. “Yes—but Beth approved the article. It was a legitimate entertainment news story. I saw it as doing my job for both organizations.”

  He handed her an envelope. “Your last paycheck. We used your vacation time to cover the days you were away over the past month. I’ll need your ID and keycard.”

  Holly reached into her handbag, drew out her ID and keycard and dropped them on his desk. “I’m sure you think people remember you for being a great journalist or an uncompromising editor, but what they remember about you is how you made them feel. They remember your lack of support when they asked for maternity leave or sick time. They remember how you yelled at them over trivial things just because you were in a bad mood. They remember how you belittled them.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Say what you want to say, and get out.”

  She would not let him see her cry.

  She got to her feet, fought a wave of dizziness. “You’re a dick, Tom. Eventually I’ll find another job, but you’ll still be a dick. Oh, and good luck with your karma.”

  She opened the door to find her friends standing outside, shock on their faces.

  “No way.” Sophie gaped at her.

  “Yes way.” Holly’s vision blurred, and she felt suddenly out of breath.

  Alex took her arm. “Come and sit down.”

  She pressed a hand against the pain in her side, drew in deep breaths.

  Sophie had tears in her eyes. “I’ll call Marc, see if he can give you a ride home.”

  “I can give her a ride. I’m quitting.” Laura turned, walked to her desk, and started shoving things in her handbag. “If Holly goes, I go.”

  Holly stood, walked over to Laura, tried to talk sense into her. “I’m going to be all right. I don’t want you to lose your job, too.”

  Laura lowered her voice to a whisper. “My old TV station in DC offered me the main news anchor position. Javier and I are moving there. I was going to give my notice at the end of the week anyway, but it’s much more satisfying to do it this way.”

  Tom stepped out of his office. “Nilsson, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I’ve seen how you treat your staff. I don’t want to be a part of it.” She shut down her computer, took her keycard and ID, walked over to him, and handed them to him. “I quit. Consider that my official notice.”

  “I don’t feel very good,” said Matt, logging out of his computer. “I think I’ve got that crud that’s going around. Sorry, but I have to head home.”

  “Harker, sit your ass back down.” Tom pointed to Matt’s desk. “You’ve got tomorrow’s lead story.”

  “I guess it will have to wait until I don’t feel so sick.” Matt grabbed his briefcase, turned to Laura. “I’ll go get Holly’s stuff and carry it down to your car.”

  Alex coughed, turned off his monitor. “Yeah, I’m feeling sick, too. Must be something in the air—a strong whiff of bullshit.”

  “You, too, Carmichael?” Tom glared at him. “You don’t even like Bradshaw.”

  “That was back when I thought she was an airhead.” Alex grabbed his backpack. “If it came to a smackdown between the two of yo
u, my money would be on her.”

  Sophie hurried over to her desk and began grabbing her things. “I’m leaving, too. I can’t work today.”

  Tom threw his hands up in the air, shouting now. “What the hell is wrong with everyone? She was a goddamn spook! You’re not getting paid for today.”

  Surrounded by her friends, Holly strode past Tom. “I guess karma got here quicker than I thought.”

  Together, they walked out of the stunned and silent newsroom.

  * * *

  “The motions hearing tomorrow is canceled.”

  Nick gaped at Rensler “What? Why? When is it being rescheduled?”

  “It’s not being rescheduled. The prosecutor has dropped all the charges.”

  There was a buzzing in Nick’s ears. “All of them?”

  Rensler nodded. “As soon as we complete the paperwork, you’ll be free to go.”

  “But how—?”

  “I think you must have friends in very high places. Someone from the Agency spoke up on your behalf and lit a bonfire under the prosecutor’s ass. I just got the call a half hour ago and drove straight over.”

  Nick sat. “When do I get these off?”

  “Soon. We just need to process you out.”

  Nick thought he must be dreaming, but sure enough, the restraints were removed and he was led down the hallway to a room where his personal belongings were handed to him in a black garment bag—suit, shoes, watch, wallet, cell phone.

  “Take care,” Rensler called to him.

  “You, too, and thank you.” Nick stopped, turned back to him. “Are you ever going to tell me who hired you to represent me?”

  Rensler shook his head. “That party would prefer to remain anonymous.”

  A guard pointed to a dressing room. “You can change in there, sir, and then you’re free to go.”

  Nick walked in, stripped off the prison shoes, jumpsuit, T-shirt, underwear, and socks, shoved them into the laundry shoot, and put on the suit he’d worn the afternoon he’d flown out from Denver. He looked in the mirror.

  God, he needed a haircut and a shave.

  But he didn’t care.

  He was going home to Holly.