Colby Velocity

Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Copyright

This book is dedicated to my two dearest friends, Vicki Hinze and Peggy Webb. Two of the most amazing ladies I have ever had the privilege to know and love!

Chapter One
Chicago, Tuesday, July 4, 9:00 p.m.

Kendra Todd surveyed the deserted street. The last of the lingering Fourth of July revelers were only a few blocks over. The fireworks at the Pier crackled in the air, sending sprays of light over the city.

She had attended the agency cookout at Jim Colby’s home. Afterward she’d anticipated a quiet evening at her apartment … but that hadn’t happened.

Talk about ghosts from the past …. The frantic call she’d received had taken her back several years. Three, to be exact.

To a place she’d just as soon not revisited.

9:04 p.m. He was late.

Kendra tucked her cell phone back into the holster on her belt and surveyed the street once more.

Ten minutes more of hanging around this street corner alone and she was out of here. Whatever her old friend’s latest drama … it wasn’t hers. Kendra Todd was no longer a part of the D.C. world of ruthless ambition and colliding egos. In three years she hadn’t looked back once.

The move to Chicago was the smartest choice she’d made in a very long time. Working with Chicago PD’s community affairs division the first two years of her new Windy City life had been very useful in acquainting herself with this new environment. Last year’s offer to join the staff of the Colby Agency had come after working closely with Ian Michaels during the abduction attempt of Victoria Colby-Camp’s granddaughter. The opportunity had proven the perfect prompt for Kendra to make a major move toward personally recognizing and professionally achieving a true career goal.

Reaching out to those in need and using the interactive skills she’d honed so well to solve a case satisfied her in a way nothing else about her professional history had. The camaraderie at the Colby Agency surprised her still. For someone who had no family left and who’d walked away from her lifelong friends three years ago, the atmosphere at the agency was spot on. She not only liked her job as an investigator, she also liked being part of something real.

Real life. Real people.

To say this jolt from the past was unwelcome would be a vast understatement. Not that she hadn’t kept in touch with a few of her former associates. Christmas cards and the occasional birthday card were exchanged. At first she’d even exchanged e-mails with her former boyfriend, but that had fizzled out after only a few months. But this—tonight—was far from a mere unexpected call from an old colleague.

This was trouble in big, bold letters.

Headlights flashed, drawing her attention to the west end of the block. A dark nondescript sedan had made the turn at the intersection and now rolled slowly in her direction.

She maintained her position against the wall of the closed boutique and watched as the sedan pulled up to the curb directly behind her smaller, two-door sports car. The snazzy red car was her one visible capitulation to vanity. And maybe to independence from all the red tape and chaos of so-called organized government.

The driver’s door opened and she held her breath. As soon as the head and torso rose from behind the wheel of the car she squinted to identify the driver. The street lamp’s glow spread across the hood of the sedan but fell short of providing sufficient illumination beyond the windshield. But she would know that tall, slim frame anywhere … even in the dark.

Yoni Sayar straightened his suit jacket and shoved the car door closed.

Kendra couldn’t deny some sense of sentimentality at seeing him. Three years was a long time and they had been good friends.

“Kendra.” He smiled as he strode toward her.

“It’s good to see you,” she confessed before accepting his quick, firm embrace.

Tall, thin and dark, Yoni was a natural born American but his parents were Israeli immigrants. Both had worked hard to ensure he received the best education possible and were extraordinarily proud of his accomplishments. A master’s degree in global communications was complemented by his ability to speak a number of languages with incredible ease and fluency. He’d turned down numerous lucrative corporate offers to pursue his goal of making a difference in the merciless world of politics. A lobbyist who supported the rights of main street Americans over those of corporate America.

Yoni was one of the good guys. He’d worked hard to earn the respect of the most powerful senators and congressional members, including Senator Judd Castille, Kendra’s former boss.

After a thorough scrutiny of her face, he said, “You look very happy.” He nodded his approval. “Happy and stress-free.”

A moment’s hesitation passed before she admitted, “I’m very happy.” Old habits died hard. Even with a good friend like Yoni, the political arena had made her wary of the slightest personal confession. “The Colby Agency is great. It’s the best move I could have made.”

He surveyed the deserted street. “I’m very pleased to hear this.” His tone gave away his distraction more so than his not so discreet surveillance of their surroundings.

“Would you like to have coffee while we talk?” He’d insisted on meeting someplace where they wouldn’t be seen. Another learned trait of the political life. Still, surely he didn’t expect to talk right here on the street, deserted or not. He’d come all this way, the least she could do was buy him a cup of coffee.

He shook his head. “I can’t risk being seen.”

With you. That he didn’t verbalize that part disturbed her on some level. She and Senator Castille had parted on less than favorable terms. That was no secret. The rumors that had at first buzzed in the media were quickly squashed by Castille’s people. It was completely understandable that Yoni would not want to be spied collaborating with the enemy.

Even three years later she remained the enemy.

“All right.” She gestured to her car. “Why don’t we sit in my car?”

He glanced nervously at the vehicle parked in front of his rental. “Well … we can do that.”

That his uneasiness continued to mount triggered the first, distant alarm. Kendra led the way, hitting the remote and unlocking the doors as they reached the vehicle. She settled behind the steering wheel and waited until he’d slid into the passenger seat next to her before locking the doors once more.

“You bought a new car.” He looked around the interior, surprise in his expression. “It’s very nice.” He managed a lackluster smile. “It suits you.”

“It was time.” The interior lights dimmed automatically, leaving them in darkness.

It was his turn to speak. This was his rendezvous after all. Yet the silence dragged on several seconds adding to Kendra’s uneasiness. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” No point beating around the bush. He’d asked for this meeting, had taken a flight, rented a car and met her in an out-of-the-way location. A scene right out of an espionage movie.

Yoni released a big breath. “You know how Castille is. If he smells trouble …”

Trouble. There it was. She’d known it was coming. “I thought you and Castille were still tight.” The truth was, when Castille had targeted her, Yoni hadn’t gone out of his way to back her up. She’d understood at the time, still did actually. Once Castille had decided she was out, no one or nothing was going to change his mind. Yoni sticking his neck out and damaging his own position with the arrogant senator wouldn’t have helped Kendra.

Political life was ruthless.

A frown furrowed across her brow as all those frustrating memories tumbled into vivid recollection. How the heck had she allowed herself to be dragged back into this vicious cycle?

“What sort of trouble?” And what did it have to do with her? Kendra tamped down the frustration. She reminded herself that she’d heard something in his voice that concerned her when he’d called. She couldn’t just ignore him if he really needed help.

“I’m certain you’ve heard about the Transparency Bill.”

She’d heard. Anyone who read the newspaper or watched the news likely knew of it. The bill was a very progressive action that had raised lots of eyebrows, particularly on Capitol Hill. Ultimately if the bill was passed, the way lobbyists and special interests groups worked would be forever changed. For the better. Though those lobbyists and special interest groups didn’t see it that way.

“Castille supports it,” she acknowledged. That she knew based on the headlines. “He’s taken a lot of heat from the groups he once allowed to bolster his nest egg.” Oh, yes. Castille was one rich old man. He’d reveled in the fringe benefits of those who lobbied for his support. Now that he was nearing retirement he’d opted to man-up and do what no other senator before him had had the courage to do. Limit the behind-the-scenes influence and reach of all those very groups who fueled the power.

“He has persuaded a number to follow suit,” Yoni mentioned, not that it was necessary. Kendra knew very well how much influence Castille wielded.

She turned to her old friend, searched his face. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the low light. “I can see where you might not be a supporter of the proposed legislation.”

He shook his head. “I helped design the bill.”

“Are you serious?” It was difficult to imagine Yoni, a lobbyist, proposing anything that would limit his ability to do his job. Though his efforts were always forthright and just, there were necessary strategies that those outside the political playing field might not fully understand if those efforts were exposed. Serving the greater good came with a cost—usually associated with providing benefits for certain private groups. It was simply the way the world worked.

Yoni dropped his head back against the seat and released a weary breath. “The whole process has gotten out of control. Someone has to draw a line somewhere. I admire Castille for having the courage to do so.”

No question about the need for stronger boundaries. She’d thought as much three years ago. That was just one of the subjects about which she and Castille had butted heads.

“I can see where that move would make you more than a few enemies.” Was that why he’d come to her? Didn’t make a whole lot of sense considering she was many degrees removed, but he hadn’t actually given her any real specifics yet.

“Frustration, anger, resentment—all those things I anticipated,” he explained, “but not the hideous threat of blackmail.”

“Blackmail?” Her confusion cleared. “Someone is attempting to blackmail you?”

He nodded. “I have until ten Friday morning to ensure the senator ushers through a couple of amendment attachments or, according to the note I received, I’ll face the consequences.”

Tension tightened her muscles. “Do you have the note with you?”

He reached inside his summer-weight jacket and pulled out an envelope.

Kendra tapped a button to illuminate a console light. She accepted the envelope and inspected the exterior. His name was carefully printed on the front and nothing more. “Where was it delivered?”

“To my office. It was pushed beneath the door before we opened. I found it this morning.”

Which meant anyone could have delivered it. Yoni’s office was in downtown D.C. on a public block with little or no security measures. She opened the envelope and withdrew the single page typed note.

You know what you need to do. Friday, 10:00 a.m. is the deadline. Meet the demand or face the consequences.

“Have you been to the police?” The answer would be no, otherwise they wouldn’t be sitting here going through the cloak-and-dagger motions.

“I can’t go to the police.”

“Why not?” That made no sense. “This threat could be more than an opportunistic scare tactic. You need to take it seriously.” He’d been in this business long enough to know this already. Power and money were strong motivators; some would do anything to get their hands on one or both.

“There’s another note.”

That he didn’t make eye contact was more telling than he realized. She’d understood there surely was one or more other notes since this one did not state the precise demands or consequences. “Did you bring that note, as well?” Was he really going to make her ask for every iota of information?

He retrieved another plain white envelope from his interior jacket pocket and handed it to her. When her fingers tightened on the envelope, he hesitated before letting go. “I don’t want this ugliness to color your opinion of me.” The worry in his eyes backed up the voiced concern.

“You know me better than that.” She pulled the envelope free of his hold.

Yoni’s name on the front. Inside, the letter was typed just like the other one, except this one was actually a copy of a press statement dated for Friday. The statement explained how a highly respected D.C. lobbyist had more than his share of skeletons in his closet. Kendra felt her jaw drop as she read the accusations that ran the gamut from illicit sexual behavior to fraternizing with known terrorists.

She carefully folded the letter, tucked it into the envelope once more and passed it back to him. “First, I need to know one thing.”

“Anything.”

“How many of those accusations are true even in the remotest sense?”

“You can’t be serious.”

The barely restrained inflection of outrage in his tone was without doubt authentic. She knew him well enough to know it when she heard it. Despite how strongly she felt about him as a person, she also fully understood that no one ever knew anyone completely. “Not a single word of it?” she pressed.

He moved his head side to side solemnly but firmly. “Not one word.”

“I take it you want me to find out who’s behind this threat.”

Another of those weary sighs escaped his lips. “I didn’t want to drag you into this, Kendra. But I’m desperate. There can be no evidence of these accusations because they are irrefutably false. But you know what a scandal like this could do to my reputation. False or not, I would be ruined on too many levels. Not to mention it could serve to undo much of what I’ve worked so hard to accomplish. I believe it is related to the bill Senator Castille and I are pushing. The bill is far too important to allow extortion to stop it. Can you and this Colby Agency you love so much help me?”

Kendra didn’t allow herself the time to think about how she had sworn she would never go back to D.C. This was the trouble she had fully expected when the call had come. Yet, this was Yoni, her friend. A genuine hero of the people.

She couldn’t turn her back on him.

“You understand that this will require your complete cooperation?”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you need.”

“And we may have to bring the senator into it.”

“Whatever we have to do,” he reiterated.

“All right. I can help you,” she said, determined to make it so, no matter that the voice of reason shouted at her that it was indisputably a mistake. “More important, the Colby Agency can help you.”

Chapter Two
Chicago, Wednesday, 5:00 a.m.

The vibration of metal on wood jarred Leland Rockford from a dead sleep. He rolled over and plopped a hand on the table next to his bed. His eyes refused to open as he fumbled across the table top for his cell phone. It shimmied in his hand as he grasped it.

With a flick of his thumb he slid the nuisance open. His eyelids reluctantly raised and he stared at the digital numbers on the alarm clock. 5:01 a.m. Who would call him at such an ungodly hour?

“Rockford,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat.

“Rocky, it’s Jim. We need you here ASAP.”

His boss. Jim Colby’s tone was clipped, tense. Not good. After last week’s false labor alarm, his boss was seriously on edge. Rocky threw the sheet back and sat up, dropping his feet to the carpeted floor. “What’s up?”

“I’m sending you on assignment in D.C. Come prepared to leave immediately.”

Rocky scrubbed a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “On my way.”

He closed the phone and dropped it back onto the table. Okay. D.C. That meant he had to pack a suit. He hated suits. Hated dealing with rich hotshots who thought they owned the world.

Exhaling a blast of frustration, he pushed up from the bed. First a quick shower and a cup of coffee to boost his sluggish brain.

“You getting up?”

Damn. He’d forgotten that he had a guest. “Gotta go out of town for work.”

The lamp on the right side of the bed switched on, highlighting the blond tresses spread across the pillow next to his. “Now?” she asked, squinting at the light.

“Now. I’ll call you when I get back.” He didn’t wait for additional questions. Time was limited. Jim would be waiting for him.

Hurrying through a hot shower, he dried his hair with the towel then wrapped it around his waist and hesitated before stepping out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. When he did he experienced a distinct sense of relief that his guest hadn’t hung around to chat. She’d left a note on his pillow.

I’ll be waiting ….

Rocky couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. She was a nice lady. They’d gone out several times over the past couple of months and he liked her. But he just couldn’t see the attraction between them as anything beyond basic lust. To be fair he’d tried. More for her sake than his own. She deserved his respect and at least a half-hearted attempt. Maybe when he returned from D.C. they would have that uncomfortable it’s-not-working talk he’d been putting off.

These days he wasn’t into pursuing dead ends. Or lust … just for the sake of a good time.

Not that he didn’t like bachelorhood or hadn’t enjoyed his share of no-strings-attached relationships, but at thirty-five it was getting a bit old. Time to think about a permanent relationship. Maybe even kids. His parents would love that.

That thought kicked his brain into gear.

Had he just used that particular four-letter word?

Kids.

Guys didn’t have biological clocks, he was relatively certain, but it sure as hell felt like he could hear one ticking inordinately loudly in some mutinous region of his brain.

He hesitated as he pulled on a pair of jeans. A part of him wanted to deny the concept, but he wasn’t into denial, either. Came with the territory when a guy was raised by parents who were practicing psychologists. Denial of one’s feelings equated to fear. Suck up some courage and face the facts.

It was time to settle down and do the family thing.

All he had to do was find the right woman. He’d bought the house with the big yard. His finances were in order. Seemed as good a time as any.

All he needed was a good woman who respected his idiosyncrasies and his work. He had plenty of the former, like being a slob around the house. Watching sports and shouting at the refs on the television screen. Preparing gourmet meals. Something he and his father had in common. His entire life Rocky had remained convinced that his father the shrink was in fact a closet chef.

Rocky didn’t want anybody in his kitchen. And his work was his top priority. Finding a woman who didn’t mind relinquishing control in the kitchen likely wouldn’t be a problem. Finding one who could live with him gone for days on end more often than not was another matter altogether. That was going to be the tough hurdle.

He grabbed a shirt from the top of the stack on the chair next to his closet, which was generally about as close to the closet as his laundry made it.

He wasn’t worried about finding the right woman. One of these days when he least expected it, he would stumble on the one for him.

He glanced at the note on his pillow. But he wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Colby Agency, 7:05 a.m.

“SINCE YONI SAYAR,” Jim Colby explained as the briefing in Victoria Colby-Camp’s office came to a conclusion, “was murdered outside his Crystal City apartment at three o’clock this morning—not even four hours ago—there’s no word from the police as to the suspected motive. If they know anything, which is doubtful, they’re not telling. I’ve asked the liaison to keep us informed but there are no guarantees. This is a politically sensitive situation and I don’t expect to be kept in the loop beyond what the rest of the world will see and hear in the media.”

Rocky divided his attention between his boss and Victoria, the head of the Colby Agency. Despite this year’s merger, Rocky couldn’t help considering himself and the other Equalizers, including Jim, as separate from the rest of the Colby staff. The transition had moved along smoothly for the most part so far. He supposed it would simply take time to feel as if he “fit in” here the way he had in the old brownstone a world away from this ritzy location.

Victoria gestured to Kendra Todd, the Colby investigator who sat on the same side of the small conference table as Rocky and with whom he would be working on this assignment. “Kendra, do you have anything else to add?”

Kendra had explained Sayar’s position in D.C. politics and his unexpected meeting with her less than twelve hours ago. She remained clearly shaken by the news of his murder. That fact had not stopped her from plunging into a strategy for determining the truth about this tragic event. She’d spoken with Sayar’s parents an hour ago to pass along her reassurances that she would personally see that the investigation was conducted without bias and in a speedy manner.

“Nothing more as of yet,” Kendra began, her voice weary. “I want you and Jim” she glanced from her boss to Rocky’s “to know how much I appreciate the agency’s support in this … investigation.”

Typically the agency—as had been the case with the Equalizers—had at least one client who was very much alive before delving into a case. This situation was a little outside the norm since the client was now dead, but both Victoria and Jim felt strongly about finding the truth, particularly since Sayar had come to Kendra just before his murder.

“You have our full support,” Victoria reiterated. “The Colby jet is standing by. Whatever resources you need on this end will be available.”

“Going in blind like this,” Jim took up where his mother left off, “and with the murder of Mr. Sayar, we believe it wise to be fully prepared. With that in mind, we’re recommending you both carry your weapons. D.C.’s new handgun regulations are somewhat more relaxed, so there’s no worry on that count.”

Carrying personal protection was standard operation procedure for Equalizer cases, but the Colby Agency saw things differently. No weapons unless absolutely necessary. Rocky felt a sense of relief at this news. He much preferred being armed.

“Thank you.” Kendra stood. “I’m ready,” she looked expectantly at Rocky, “if you’re all set.”

Rocky pushed to his feet. “I’m good to go.” He didn’t have to ask who would be serving as lead on the case. For now, the Colby investigator assigned was in charge. That was fine by him. He had a reputation for being a rogue when it came to strategy in the field, and though he liked to bend the rules he rarely broke those rules. Not his style.

Within ten minutes they had picked up their weapons and bags, loaded into the agency car and headed for the airfield. Since Kendra didn’t appear to be interested in conversation, Rocky passed the travel time reviewing Sayar’s dossier a second time. Mostly he needed a distraction to keep his mind off how good she smelled. The scent was soft, subtle and sweet. Womanly.

But he was ignoring that.

She was friendly enough in a very professional way, but she paid little or no attention to him on any other level. Why should she? They were colleagues, nothing more. Obviously he wasn’t her type.

He reread the last paragraph he’d perused. Sayar had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. Top of his class at Vanderbilt University. Hardworking family. No ticked off ex-girlfriends. According to his family, Sayar never complained about work or any of his professional associates. This tragedy was a complete shock to all who knew him, again, according to the family. The tragedy was too fresh. Later when the shock wore off a little, one or both parents might remember little seemingly insignificant details they couldn’t recall now.

Rocky closed the file and slid it into his bag. Whatever the victim’s family thought or recalled, something was going on. Otherwise Sayar wouldn’t have come to Kendra. Problem was, he was dead and all Rocky and Kendra had were questions.

Kendra stared out the car window at the passing cityscape. Rocky took advantage of her preoccupation to study his partner for this assignment. She was young, twenty-eight compared to his thirty-five. Long hair, more blond than brown. Smooth skin that seemed to be perpetually tanned. High cheekbones, thin nose and extra full lips. Big, brown eyes that reflected utter brilliance and deep compassion. Always conservatively dressed, but those modest skirts did nothing to disguise her tall, slender, well-toned frame. During the siege of the agency back in January he’d caught himself staring at her more than once. A very attractive woman.

But what he liked about her most was her extraordinarily ladylike manners. She reminded him of his mother. Prim, proper—classy—and always going out of her way to be helpful. He’d asked around about her social life and he’d learned a sad truth. Kendra Todd was all work and no play. She rarely dated. Never looked at him as anything other than a fellow investigator. Never looked at any of the males around the office in an unbusinesslike manner.

He’d asked her to lunch once but she’d declined, opting to remain at her desk with a sandwich from home. She was the first woman he’d been attracted to who wasn’t attracted to him first.

Strange.

Even stranger, he was attracted to her and she wasn’t actually his type. Kendra Todd possessed all those traits that he respected in his mother, but she was way too focused on business at this stage in her life.

Way too uptight for him.

She turned in his direction, her questioning gaze colliding with his.

Rocky blinked. Busted. “Sorry about your friend.” Shaky recovery but at least he’d gotten out something rational.

“Thank you.” She smoothed a hand over her cream-colored skirt and cleared her throat, simultaneously shifting her gaze forward.

The awkward silence that followed squeezed the air right out of the car.

Only one way to alleviate the tension. “You had time to lay out a preliminary strategy?” Safe enough question, he supposed.

A moment passed while she chewed her bottom lip. “I’m going straight to the top.”

He lifted his eyebrows in question. “Senator Castille?”

“Yes.”

Could prove dicey. “You think he’ll see you?” At the briefing she’d mentioned that her parting with the senator had been less than pleasant.

“No.”

“I guess you have a plan B.” Rocky knew enough about her to fully understand that she wouldn’t take no for an answer without a fight.

Kendra turned her attention back to him. “He will see me. He won’t like it. He’ll evade my attempts, ignore my questions, but he will eventually admit defeat.”

Approval tugged at one corner of Rocky’s mouth. Oh yeah, this lady was a ferocious tiger despite her sweet little kitten appearance. Something else he appreciated about her. “So you’re fairly certain the senator is involved somehow.”

“I’m certain of nothing,” she pointed out. “I feel confident that he is well aware of whatever rumors are traveling the grapevine regarding the murder. Those rumors might provide leads.”

“What about other lobbyists? Personal friends?” Judging by the stack of notes she had in that briefcase of hers, she’d done some serious research in the hours after her meeting with Sayar. Rocky doubted she’d gotten much sleep.

“There are two close associates, Stanford Smith and Ella Hendrix, who have publicly slammed his support of a controversial bill.” Kendra took a deep breath and appeared to consider her next words before continuing. “It would be too easy, not to mention stupid,” she glanced knowingly at Rocky, “for either one of them to be the one we’re looking for. But, like the senator, they will be privy to rumors, incidents, that we need to know that might propel our investigation in the proper direction.”

Rocky hadn’t thought of it until now but he wondered if a lack of a real social life was a lingering side effect of D.C. politics. According to the dossier, Sayar had no notable social life. Rocky opted to ask about that later. To ask now might back up any suspicions she had about catching him staring at her. Every time he had the opportunity to study her he noticed something new.

Like the small sprinkling of freckles across her nose. He’d never noticed that before. Then again, he’d never sat this close to her in a confined space for this length of time. When she smiled, those extra full lips revealed gleaming white teeth that were far from perfectly straight. Just a little crooked. Just enough to give her smile special character.

He liked that about her. Gorgeous but not too perfect.

He seemed to like a lot of things about her.

“Did you have suggestions on where to begin?”

It wasn’t until she asked the question that he realized she was openly watching him stare at her. He swallowed. Told himself to say something. “We should, of course, check out his residence. Often when someone feels cornered or afraid, he or she will hide information in a safe place in hopes of keeping a secret.” He didn’t look away when he ran out of logical suggestions. No point pretending he hadn’t been staring. She’d caught him red-handed. Twice now.

“We’ll go there tonight when the police have finished their investigation,” she agreed. “The property will assuredly still be a crime scene, but hopefully the police will choose not to post a guard once their techs are finished.”

“They’ll take his computer.” Rocky was a whiz with computers, but the chances of the cops leaving that behind were slim to none.

“They will,” Kendra echoed. She relaxed in the seat, turning her attention front and center once more. “But they don’t know about Yoni’s backup drive or where he keeps it hidden.”

Now that was a stroke of luck. “You obviously do.”

“I definitely do.” She shot Rocky a triumphant smile. “He recently moved it, but he gave me the location last night. Just in case.”

“He was aware on some level that the threat might go beyond a reputation assassination?” In Rocky’s opinion the idea that the victim felt he was in physical danger put a slightly different slant on the case.

“He didn’t say as much, but I got that impression. Yoni wasn’t one to break protocol. He played by the rules.” She gave Rocky another of those pointed looks. “All the rules.”

Rocky studied her eyes, the certainty there, and the determined set of her jaw. “Once in a great while a true innocent is mowed down in a scenario like this, but only once in a great while. I’d wager your friend has at least one secret that’ll surprise you.” He didn’t have to spell out the glaring fact that Sayar did not want to go to the police.

Another of those long, awkward pauses lapsed with her staring directly into his eyes.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

“If I’m right, you owe me lunch.” A long-awaited lunch, he didn’t mention.

Her assessing gaze narrowed slightly. “You’re on.”

He grinned, leaned into the headrest. Lunch was a given. Rocky had never met a man or woman, dead or alive, who didn’t have at least one secret. Yoni Sayar surely had his.

“If you’re wrong,” Kendra said, cutting into his victorious musing, “you have to wear a suit to the office every day for a week.”

Surprised, he looked her straight in the eye. “Something wrong with what I wear?” He was a jeans and boots kind of guy. Sure he wore the requisite button-down shirt and sports jacket, but never suits. Well, almost never. Occasionally he had no choice.

She shook her head. “Nothing a little polish and silk won’t take care of.”

“Ha-ha.” He pretended to be annoyed but deep down he was kind of happy that she’d bothered to observe what he wore. She sure hadn’t given the first indication that she’d looked at him long enough to notice. “Nice to know you care.”

“Appearances are everything, Rocky,” she said, surveying the entrance to the airfield as the driver made the turn. “At the Colby Agency appearances are extremely important.”

His anticipation flattened. Her attention was related to business.

Like always.

Chapter Three
Washington, D.C., Capitol Hill Diner, 1:55 p.m.

Kendra waited through the lengthy hold. When Castille’s secretary returned to the line, Kendra didn’t give her time to pass along the no she knew the senator had likely given. “I have to talk to him, Jean. It’s urgent, as I’m sure you know.”

Rocky lounged on the other side of the booth they’d claimed once the lunch crowd started to dwindle, his expression resigned to the idea that she was butting her head against a brick wall. But he had to hand it to her; she didn’t give up easily.

“Kendra, I wish I could help you,” Jean offered, her voice hushed. She wouldn’t want to be overheard consorting with the enemy.

“I understand that an appointment is out of the question,” Kendra put in before the woman who’d worked with the senator his entire senatorial career could continue, “but if you can give me some hint of his schedule for this afternoon I’ll catch him on the run.” Kendra had some idea of Castille’s daily agenda. Two years as his personal aide had provided significant insight into his usual activities. But it had been three years.

Things changed. So did people.

“What about his three o’clock at the club?” she prodded. During Kendra’s tenure as his aide, Castille hadn’t missed a Wednesday afternoon sit-down with the boys at the club. The Summit catered to high-level D.C. politicians and businessmen, providing classic luxury along with a three hundred percent markup on beverages. Membership was required for entrance, but the sidewalk outside was fair game as long as one wasn’t a reporter. If any of the old staff remained, she might just get inside. But she wasn’t betting on it.

“I can’t confirm that he’ll make that standing appointment today, considering what’s happened,” Jean advised, her tone somber.

That was all Kendra needed. “Thanks, Jean. I owe you.” Kendra closed her cell phone and gazed triumphantly at the man waiting across the table. “I can catch him around three.” The club was barely twenty minutes away. Arriving ahead of schedule wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it might work to her advantage.

“I’m impressed. The secretary must remember you more fondly than her boss does.”

Jean Brody had no children of her own. The sixty-year-old and Kendra had bonded very closely, but even that bond had never breached the woman’s loyalty to the senator. What she had given today was a confirmation of something Kendra already knew. It was their mutual respect that kept Jean off Kendra’s list of persons to interrogate. As well as the knowledge that no amount of persuasion would prompt the secretary to speak ill against Castille. She was a rare breed.

“You could say that, yes,” Kendra said in answer to her partner’s assessment.

Rocky made an agreeable sound and resumed his monitoring of the street outside the wall of plate glass that ran the length of the diner’s storefront. He was slightly out of his element but he hadn’t let that cloud his attitude.

Kendra studied the man seated across the table from her. She didn’t yet have a complete handle on his thought process regarding the case of her connection to the players. That he continued to act cooperatively went a long way in easing her concern about working with him. Not that he was a bad guy, he absolutely wasn’t. But he was a former Equalizer and the merger with the Colby Agency had been a difficult pill to swallow to some extent for Jim Colby’s entire team. Most of the bumps were behind them now.

That her attention, despite the current situation, settled on the usual details about him annoyed her, but it was what it was. An unexpected attraction that could not be allowed to proliferate.

Rocky was tall, heavily muscled. Coal-black hair and unsettlingly vivid blue eyes. Everything about him somehow refuted his background. Reared and educated in Tampa by medical professional parents, he dressed like a cowboy—sans the requisite hat. From the first time she’d met him she’d fully expected the man to drawl out a “yes, ma’am” to match that swagger of a champion that attracted the eye of every female he encountered—including Kendra’s. When he walked into a room he owned it, insofar as female interest was concerned.

As if she’d made the statement out loud, her partner swung his gaze back to her.

She rerouted her thoughts. “I left a voice mail for Wayne Burton.” Keep going with the details. Rocky had been in the restroom when she’d made that call. “He’s a contact in D.C.’s homicide division I reached out to on occasion … before.” Before she’d recognized the writing on the wall and the hard cold fact that she was not cut out for this world. And before she’d tried a relationship with him that couldn’t have fit in a million years. “I’m hoping he’ll agree to brief us on the path the investigation is taking at this point.”

Those startlingly blue eyes searched hers a moment as if looking for the motive behind her words. “A reliable enough contact you have reason to believe he would go out on a limb to give you a break in a potentially sensitive and high-profile case?”

Rocky wasn’t asking about reliability. What he had actually asked was had she slept with Wayne Burton. His eyes confirmed her analysis. “Yes,” she said, unashamed. Wayne was reliable and she had slept with him. But that was history. History Leland Rockford had no need to know. She hadn’t communicated with Wayne in three years … other than the occasional e-mail.

“That should make life a lot simpler.” Rocky plucked a cold French fry from his plate and popped it into his mouth. “For the case anyway.”

Kendra let the innuendo slide. She moistened her lips, shouldn’t have stared at his, but it was difficult not to. He had very generous lips for a man. Everything about him was a contradiction. His appearance gave away nothing of his past life. His slow, methodical manner of conversing totally belied his state school academic record. The man was incredibly smart and far more insightful than he apparently wanted anyone to know, including his current partner.

And yet he didn’t seem to get how this was going to play out. “Nothing about this investigation will be simple,” she warned. “This is a community filled with secrets and powerful people who know how to keep the important ones—unless it benefits them somehow to share those secrets. We’ll have to dig deeper and work harder for every single detail.”

Rocky propped his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Good thing neither of us is the type to surrender without a fight.”

She resisted the impulse to recline deeper into the faux leather of the booth to regain those few inches of distance he had claimed. He’d done this at the hotel when he’d insisted on opening the door to her room and seeing her inside before going to his room next door. He’d gotten closer than he’d dared before, had looked her directly in the eyes and spoke quietly as if what he had to say wasn’t to be overheard. That it was somehow intimate. Maybe it was her imagination but she hadn’t noticed him doing that before.

She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that he’d made her shiver. Something no other man had done with such ease.

Quite possibly she was making too much of it. She’d had zero sleep and Yoni’s murder had her on an emotional ledge. She stared at her untouched food. Her appetite was AWOL. But she needed to eat. Coffee alone wouldn’t keep her on her toes.

She kept replaying every moment of last night’s meeting with Yoni. What had she missed? Had he said anything at all that should have clued her in to the fact that he was in imminent danger?

How could she call herself a private investigator when she’d completely misread the urgency in a potential client she knew so well?

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up.”

Kendra blinked. So now he was a mind reader? “I was just—”

“Thinking how you should have seen this coming?”

Definitely a mind reader. “Maybe.” Surely she’d missed something relevant in last night’s meeting. Something he’d said …

“He failed to tell you everything.”

She wanted to challenge that assessment. To defend her friend … she had known Yoni as well as anyone who’d worked with him could have. But logic told her that Rocky had pegged the situation. Yoni had been worried enough to contact her, to draw her from her new life. Yet he hadn’t once mentioned fear for his safety … only for his professional reputation.

“It’s possible he had no idea the source of the threat would go this far,” she proposed. “Frankly, his murder may prove unrelated to his reasons for coming to me. There’s no way to guess.”

“But you don’t believe that,” Rocky suggested with equal conviction.

“No.” Rocky was her partner in this assignment. Choosing not to be completely honest served no purpose. “I believe there is more … that he didn’t tell me.” It pained her to say as much, but it was true. “If that proves the case, then he had a compelling reason for leaving me in the dark.” Yoni wouldn’t knowingly put anyone in danger.

Rocky pulled out his wallet and dropped payment for their lunch on the table. “All we have to do is determine what that reason was.”

Kendra reached for the check the waitress had left, then for her purse.

“It goes on the same expense log,” Rocky reminded before sliding from the booth.

Giving herself a mental kick for again being slow on the uptake, she scooted across the bench seat and stood. “We should get into position to intercept Castille.”

“Since you know the way, why don’t you drive?” He gestured for her to go ahead of him.

She inhaled a whiff of his aftershave as she turned to go. The scent caught her off guard. She’d spent the last several hours in his company, seated right next to him and it wasn’t until this moment she noticed the earthy masculinity of it. Despite the abundance of food smells surrounding her, his scent abruptly reached out and permeated her senses.

Sleep deprived. Frayed nerves. Too much caffeine.

After a good night’s sleep she would be more herself.

But her friend would still be dead.

Summit Club, 2:50 p.m.

THE BROODING ARCHITECTURE of the exclusive club blended into the row of brick and limestone structures that flanked the tree-lined street far enough from Pennsylvania Avenue to allow some semblance of separation.

Luck appeared to be on Kendra’s side as she leaned against the bar on the side of the expansive dining room opposite the lobby entrance. The afternoon shift bartender who’d worked at the club three years ago was still on staff. He’d not only allowed Kendra and Rocky inside, he’d seated them at the bar with a wide-angle view of the entrance Castille would assuredly use.

“I’m still in shock.” Drea James shook his head as he checked his stock of liquors and whiskeys. “Yoni always made it a point to stop at the bar and say hello whenever he was here.” Drea shrugged, the shock he spoke of evident in the listless move. “It’s crazy. What’s happening to this world?” He reached down for a replacement bottle of bourbon.

“Was he still dating that girl …?” Using a cliched ruse, Kendra tapped her forehead as if she was attempting to recall the name.

“Leigh?” Drea frowned. “I don’t think so. He always said he was too busy for a real social life.” After a moment’s contemplation, he added, “She still asks about him though.”

“Really?” Kendra feigned surprise. Yoni not only hadn’t mentioned a girl, neither had his parents. “Maybe she hoped they would get together again.”

“Wishful thinking,” Drea said somberly. He glanced around, then leaned across the bar. “Don’t get me wrong, Leigh’s a cool chick, but Yoni was way out of her league. That dude was going places.” He pointed to Rocky’s glass. “More sparkling?”

Rocky held his hand over his glass. “No thanks.”

The bartender turned his attention back to Kendra. “I figure that’s the only reason Leigh worked so hard to get a job waitressing here. She’s looking for a sugar daddy. Know what I mean?”

Definitely. “I’d like to ask her a few questions. Will she be working tonight?” Whether she was seeing Yoni now or not, anything this Leigh person had noticed or overheard could prove useful.

“Not tonight.” Drea furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “Tomorrow night for sure.”

“Maybe I could call her?” Kendra prodded. She wanted the woman’s last name and address if she could get one or both.

Drea shook his head again. “I can’t get over you being a PI now. That’s wild.”

“It’s a different world,” Kendra agreed. Telling Drea that Yoni had visited her in Chicago hadn’t been on her agenda but the detail had compelled the bartender to open up. Yoni spent a lot of time in places like this meeting with colleagues and contacts. Any information she could obtain from this man might fill in numerous gaps. “The work has taught me that even the most seemingly insignificant detail can make all the difference in an investigation.”

Again Drea appeared to contemplate her words. As if he’d suddenly remembered something he picked up a pen and grabbed a cocktail napkin. “This is Leigh’s cell number.” He scribbled on the napkin. “And her address.” He pushed the napkin across the bar. “You tell her I said she needs to share anything she knows with you.”

Kendra read the name. Leigh Turlington. “Thanks. This helps a lot.” She gave the bartender a smile as she withdrew a business card from her purse and presented it to him. “And you call me if you hear anything at all related to Yoni.”

Drea examined the card. “You know I will.”

“Right on time,” Rocky said under his breath.

Kendra followed his gaze to the mirror behind the bar. The reflection of the room behind them showed Castille and two other men following the hostess to a table near one of the towering windows with a view of the street below. For added privacy, the dining room was located on the second floor.

“He only allows one member of his security inside,” Drea explained, keeping his voice hushed. “He’s the one in the black suit. The other guy is Bernard Capshaw. He’s the CEO of Capshaw Enterprises.”

A waitress approached the other end of the bar, drawing Drea in that direction.

Kendra wasn’t acquainted with Capshaw the man, but she knew the company. Aerospace technology. The industry, like many others, was on the edge of financial collapse and in need of government support.

Castille hadn’t changed much. If anything he looked younger. The wonders of modern cosmetic procedures. She couldn’t see the man going for full blown surgery but there were other, more convenient procedures that provided ample benefits.

Appearances were supremely important in this high-stakes arena.

The other man, Secret Service no doubt, was an unknown to her. No one from three years ago but that changed nothing. Kendra was well aware of SOP. The senator wouldn’t be allowed out of the man’s line of sight except to visit the men’s room and only then after the facility had been checked for hidden threats.

“I’ll be waiting in the ladies’ room,” Kendra said to Rocky. “Send me a text if Castille wanders in that direction.”

“You might be in for a long wait,” Rocky noted.

That was true, but it was the only way to ensure she got one-on-one time with the senator. And that she didn’t attract the attention of his security. “Text me if he leaves the table.”

“Will do.”

Rocky watched her in the mirror behind the bar as she slid off the stool. As she made her way to the ladies’ room she wondered how long his total cooperation would last. So far he hadn’t actually questioned any of her decisions, but then they’d scarcely begun.

The ladies’ room had been renovated since Kendra’s last visit here. Opulence remained the mainstay of the decorating theme. Nothing but the best for the power players. At one point some newly elected senator had suggested that popular gathering spots like the Summit were subsidized by wealthy lobbyists who wanted the atmosphere conducive to persuasion.

No one paid any real attention to the accusation, yet everyone understood that it was in all likelihood true on some level.

Money talked.

Most anything else walked.

Kendra’s cell vibrated in its leather holster. She checked the display. The text was from Rocky and read: Security headed your way.

The man in the black suit would check the men’s room then return to the table to let the senator know it was all clear. Since both the men’s room and the ladies’ were stationed in a short corridor that led to nothing else, entry was possible only from the dining room. Permitting security to feel comfortable allowing the man to do his business in private.

Let me know when security returns to the table and Castille heads this way, she entered before hitting the send button.

Kendra checked her reflection. Smoothed a hand over her suit jacket. She looked as tired as she felt. The weariness particularly showed in her eyes. Never a good position from which to strike. This would be her first face-to-face with Castille since the day she’d walked out of his office. He wouldn’t be happy to see her.

“Tough,” she muttered.

Her cell vibrated. Security has returned to table. Your mark is en route.

Kendra tucked her phone away and took a breath. She pressed her ear to the door and listened for the neighboring hinges to whine. The carpeted floor prevented her from hearing Castille’s approach.

A soft metal-on-metal rub signaled the senator had entered the men’s room directly across the narrow corridor. Time to move.

She eased open the ladies’ room door and quickly surveyed the corridor all the while knowing that Rocky would have warned her if anyone else had approached the area.

Clear.

Though no one had come this way while they sat at the bar, she still felt uncomfortable barging into the men’s room. Putting manners aside, she crossed the corridor in two strides and entered forbidden territory.

Castille stood before the row of marble sinks admiring his thick head of gray hair in the mirror. Apparently satisfied, he reached to adjust his silk jacket. As the door whooshed closed behind Kendra his gaze collided with hers in the mirror.

“Afternoon, Senator.” Kendra closed in on his position, her head held high, her shoulders square.

He stilled. Fury flared in his eyes. “You.”

That he didn’t immediately go for the call button on the belt at his waist surprised her. Security would have descended upon the men’s room in ten seconds or less. And she would be spending hours under federal interrogation.

“It’s been a while,” she commented as she leaned one hip against the cool marble about three feet from where he stood. Crowding him wasn’t the goal.

He cut her a look that warned exactly how he still felt about her. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’re making a very serious error in judgment. This is stalking.”

“Yoni was my friend.” That his primary worry was her presence infuriated Kendra. “I want to know what happened to him.”

“His murder,” Castille said in a matter-of-fact tone, “had nothing to do with his work.” His attention shifted back to the mirror as he straightened his purple tie yet again. “You should have checked your facts before you bothered to make an appearance.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” she suggested while he openly admired the fit of his charcoal suit.

He faced her, the lack of compassion in his expression fueling her fury. “The official conclusion at this point is that the homicide that occurred early this morning had nothing to do with Sayar’s political position. Preliminary results of the homicide investigation will be released tomorrow morning. You, like the rest of the world, can catch it on your preferred news channel.”

“He came to me with concerns,” she countered. Let him offer an explanation for that. “I’m here to follow up on those concerns.”

Castille puffed. “Yoni was losing his edge. Confidence in his ability was on a downward trend. Surely you haven’t forgotten how it works in this town. There are two kinds of folks.”

The bastard took the time to wash his hands before continuing. Kendra’s fury rushed unimpeded toward the boiling point.

Castille selected a meticulously rolled hand towel from the basket on the counter and dried his hands then settled his condescending gaze upon her once more. “Those who rise to the mountaintop and those who tumble over the edge of the cliff. Yoni was stumbling. He was on his way down. There was nothing I could do to help him.”

“Because of the Transparency Bill?”

The brief glimmer of surprise in those cold eyes sent triumph rocketing into her chest. He knew Kendra well enough to understand that if she knew that, she knew much more.

“The bill is brilliant,” Castille confessed. “But the weight of taking such a stand helped to push our friend off that ledge, Kendra. The pressure under these kinds of circumstances is immeasurable. Yoni buckled under that tremendous weight.”

The senator shrugged. “There is no mystery here. Tomorrow’s press conference will set the record straight for any conspiracy theorists. Such as yourself,” he accused.

“I’ll make my own determination as to whether there’s a mystery or not,” she challenged, not put off one bit by his condescension. She wasn’t going anywhere until she had the whole truth.

“Then consider yourself on notice.” Castille tossed the hand towel aside. “If you attempt to connect Yoni’s troubles to me or my office, you will be profoundly sorry you made the mistake of coming back.”

He walked past her.

“Consider yourself on notice, Senator.” She turned, surprised that he’d hesitated at the door, his back to her. “I’m not afraid of you or your position. If the facts lead back to you, that’s where I’ll go. And if

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