Smoke and Sin Page 15

  “I doubt he would have killed me. He could only get away with that while surrounded by this much security if everyone is involved. Are you telling me the entire Secret Service would look the other way? Were they all involved in Mad’s death, too?”

  “You’re deliberately twisting my words. Of course, I’m not saying that. But if Kemp was involved in Mad’s murder, that’s one more reason you shouldn’t put yourself in danger, especially without any kind of backup or protection.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I had backup.”

  “Who?”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have opened her mouth. “None of your business. What we should be talking about is what to do now that you’ve ruined my entire investigation.”

  His eyes had narrowed. “It damn well is my business. Who are you working with? You had someone helping you since you knew Kemp was coming before—” He shook his head, running a tense hand through his hair. “Liz, of course. She was monitoring Kemp’s position and texted you when she’d lost track of him. You honestly believe that Liz, who’s never without her stilettos and can barely handle a broken nail, is up to battling agents with a proven track record?”

  When he put it like that, her plan sounded silly. Liz was a badass when it came to dealing with the press pool, but she wasn’t exactly a ninja. “I was perfectly safe. I would have sneaked out of the room with no one the wiser if you hadn’t barged in.” And that brought up a good question. “And why exactly were you following me, Roman? You were supposed to be on a date.”

  “It wasn’t a date,” he insisted as he shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the back of the sofa. “I never intended it to be one. Zack and I decided to call it a night after the play. When we arrived, I saw you sneaking down to the bottom floor and I was curious.”

  Oh, she could guess exactly what he thought. “You mean you were curious to know whose bed I meant to hop into.”

  He shrugged one muscled shoulder. “All right, I was jealous. I can’t help how I feel, Augustine. But once we were stuffed in Kemp’s closet, I realized the situation was so much worse.”

  “You have no right to be jealous.”

  “I know that. Believe me, I realize my feelings about you are complex and perverse, but I can’t change them. I’ve tried.” He pulled at his tie. “And I’m sorry you felt as if I humiliated you. I had to make a point.”

  “Somehow I think telling Special Agent Kemp to back off might have worked. He seems to understand English quite well.”

  “No, baby. He’s a man, so he doesn’t actually understand anything except pure caveman dibs. That’s what you don’t get about Kemp and his ilk. He wasn’t about to back off unless I gave him a reason to. So I did. After all, men understand visuals far better than words.” He tossed the tie beside his jacket and undid the first couple of buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. “Now, after dealing with a woman who seemed to have eight arms tonight, I need a drink. How about you?”

  She had to laugh. If he thought she didn’t understand men, she could point out all the ways he didn’t grasp the female psyche. “Darcy finally made herself plain, did she?”

  He groaned, and the tension in the room ratcheted down as he poured two glasses of what was probably Scotch old enough to apply for its own AARP card. “Fine. I was wrong. You were right. I spent the entire night trying not to be molested.”

  The thought of big, sexy Roman Calder swatting feminine hands away from his silky boxers was definitely the highlight of the evening. “So you decided to retreat here. Did Zack not like his supermodel?”

  Roman passed her a glass. “Go easy on him. He’s having a hard time. And you know precisely why I didn’t go back to Darcy’s place. She’s not the woman I want.”

  Gus didn’t say a word, just ignored the thrill in her belly.

  He scowled. “The woman I want is complicated, but now she’s going to listen to me. Do you know what this is?” From his pocket, he pulled out the plastic he’d flashed her earlier.

  When she glanced down at the scrap in his hand, the puzzle pieces slid into place and she realized what Kemp had done after he’d hung up with his mysterious caller. “Matthew talks on the burners and destroys them once he’s done. How is he getting his hands on those devices? Everyone’s luggage should have been carefully checked. If he’d been carrying a bunch of disposable phones, someone would have flagged his bag.”

  “You’re right. Which tells me he’s getting them from someplace—or someone—here.” Roman paced, clearly thinking through the problem. “But I doubt he’s sneaking out to buy them. Too risky. And anything he brought into this house would be checked. So he’s working with someone else, likely someone who was already here.”

  He sounded almost calm now. Logical. It irritated her. How could he be so even-keeled when absolutely nothing was settled between them? But if he wanted to sweep their shit under the rug, she would help him. “I’ll start looking into it. I can have Vanessa ask the local staff a few subtle questions. Fish a bit for any helpful gossip.”

  His eyes went hard, his hand tightening on the glass, but he spoke in tones both measured and soft. “You will leave this to me, Augustine. I don’t want you or Liz or Vanessa putting yourselves in danger.”

  She glared at him for a moment. She’d avoided Roman for personal reasons, but she’d also been unsure whether Zack was involved in Mad’s death. And by association, his best friend and chief of staff. A Secret Service agent on the president’s detail murdering one of his long-time pals for shits and giggles seemed like an awful big coincidence to her. No, Mad had been eliminated for a reason. If Kemp had planted the bomb on Mad’s plane, then the plot somehow connected back to Zack.

  On the other hand, Gus had known the Perfect Gentlemen for the majority of her life. They might be ruthless as hell, but they were loyal to each other. She couldn’t picture Zack or Roman wanting Mad dead. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.

  “Did Mad know something he wasn’t supposed to?” Gus asked quietly. Mad had been cunning at times, but also reckless as hell. “Something that could hurt Zack? In his last few days, he seemed upset. Agitated. He wouldn’t talk to me over the phone. I thought it was about Sara, but… Was it something else? Something that those loyal to Zack didn’t want anyone to know?”

  Roman slammed his glass onto the table, sloshing liquid over the sides. “Are you really asking me if Zack ordered Maddox Crawford’s death? Again? Goddamn it, Gus. What do you think of me? How could you even imagine for a second that Zack or I had Mad murdered?”

  “If he knew something he shouldn’t…” she started. Maybe there was an explanation. She wasn’t sure she could accept it, but she was willing to listen. She had to know.

  Roman shook his head, his gaze steady on her. “Even if Mad knew a secret that could bring down Zack’s whole presidency or somehow send Zack and me to jail, we wouldn’t have killed one of our best friends. We would have talked to him, reasoned with him. But I would rather be behind bars for life than have Mad’s blood on my hands. We’ve lost more than enough.” He frowned. “Why would you imagine I’m capable of murder? I know I hurt you, but do you really think so little of me?”

  Gus heard the genuine pain in his voice. In Kemp’s closet she’d been wondering if Roman was acting. Now she knew better. Her instincts screamed that he was being completely honest. Her head might want proof, but if she really wanted to know who’d cut Mad’s life short, it was time to get smart. Time to stop blaming Roman for everything simply because she didn’t trust him with her heart.

  “Tell me why Zack had the FAA call off the investigation into Mad’s crash. I don’t buy a single sentence of that report they released. Mad was an excellent pilot.”

  He hesitated, and she thought he would clam up on her. When she contemplated her path to the door, he sighed. “Zack didn’t have anything to do with the FAA report. But I’ll be honest, we didn’t fight it too hard because Gabe was in a bad position. He still could be if the report were somehow reversed,
even worse now because it would appear as if Zack had been trying to cover for him. You know Gabe was originally a suspect.”

  Yes, she’d seen the video of him and Mad arguing just before the crash. Yet not once had she ever suspected Gabe would hurt Mad. Yes, she had her reasons for thinking the worst of Roman, but if she took herself out of the equation, she knew he was a decent man…just not right for her.

  That fact was still a deep-seated ache.

  “I wondered if that was the reason Zack didn’t fight the FAA report. But I suppose he would rather have Mad alive and married to Sara than dead for revenge.” At Roman’s nod, she pressed on. “Then we have a murder to solve. Kemp was at the airport the day Mad died. Well, nearby. I don’t have pictures of him there, but I have surveillance video of him at a convenience store mere blocks away. And then there was this sketch he drew.”

  “Sketch?”

  The memory of it still chilled Gus. “Kemp had this notebook on his nightstand. Apparently he draws. He’s freehanded a bunch of White House staffers. Mostly cute images. But this one scared me. If anyone saw it, I don’t think they’d realize what they were looking at. It’s a picture of Mad giving a thumbs-up. He’s standing by his airplane, the one that went down. Why would Kemp be anywhere near Mad just before takeoff unless he was involved in murder?”

  “Son of a bitch.” Roman turned and headed for the door.

  She should have known he would freak out. Roman was cool as ice on the job, but he’d never been good at controlling his temper when someone stirred his emotions, as they were now. She ran to catch up to him, snagging him by the arm. “Roman, you promised.”

  Fist clenched, he whirled around. “I promised not to talk to Zack when you suspected he was a part of this scheme. Now you know he’s not, so we’ll bring him in. On second thought, we’ll take it from here. You get back to your normal life and regularly scheduled duties.”

  “You bastard! You never meant to investigate this with me. You know something, and even after I’ve shared information, you’re not going to tell me squat, are you?” She cursed, wishing she could punch something—like his caveman ego. “I’m not an idiot, you know. Zack didn’t wake up one day and decide he wanted to be Liz’s surrogate big brother. Something happened. Something’s been happening since Mad’s death. You and the rest of your pack are covering it up. Since you didn’t have anything to do with Mad’s death, that means you’re protecting Zack from something. Aren’t you?”

  Roman’s face iced over. “Leave it, Gus. Don’t get involved.”

  She was right back where she’d been at the beginning of her investigation, only now Kemp wouldn’t touch her with a fifteen-foot pole because Roman had seemingly staked his claim. He’d shoved her in a corner, expecting her to be a good girl and accept it.

  He didn’t know her at all.

  Gus scoffed. She still had a few aces up her sleeve. At least she hadn’t given Roman everything she’d collected. She still had the top few slips from the sticky pad he’d written on. At her first glance, it looked as if he’d jotted down numbers and an address. She would run a pencil over the indentions and see if she could find out where Kemp intended to go. Roman could go hang.

  But the fact that Roman was cutting her out left her even more bitter.

  “Tell me something. Does Everly know what’s going on? Is Lara involved? Is Holland even now being taught the club’s secret handshake since she’s married to my brother and therefore ‘trustworthy?’” That hurt, too. She’d known these men for far longer, but apparently until a female fucked one and promised undying devotion in her wedding vows, she wasn’t part of the family.

  It didn’t matter that, under different circumstances, Gus would have given birth to the group’s first baby. No one cared that she’d loved Roman for far longer than anyone else had even known their spouse.

  “It’s not like that,” he insisted.

  “Then what’s it like? Tell me, oh mighty and grand Roman Calder, what does it take to get on the inside? I grew up with you guys, protected you. Hell, I introduced a couple of you to sex, but that doesn’t buy me a damn thing, does it?”

  His face flushed. His jaw tightened. She realized she’d finally scored a direct hit.

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “Everything’s a game with you, and you don’t care how much you have to cheat to win. You promised me.” She retreated a step. “But hey, if we’re reneging on our promises, then let’s go back on all of them. You go and talk to Zack, and I’ll deal with Mad’s murder my own way. I’m sure you’ll have Kemp in custody, interrogating the hell out of him in the next five minutes, so you don’t have to protect me anymore. Bye.”

  While Roman was distracted by Kemp’s questioning, she would try whatever address she could lift from the notes on that sticky pad and see if she could determine what Kemp might have sought there.

  Roman’s shoulders squared and he glared. “You will stay in this room, right here with me. That’s the end of the conversation.”

  “The hell I will. You can’t keep me a prisoner here.”

  He leaned into her personal space, dark eyes delving and menacing. “Watch me.”

  “Fuck you.” She stormed toward the door, threw it open, and ran into a massive mountain of muscle in a designer suit.

  “Can I help you with something, Ms. Spencer?” the Secret Service agent asked.

  She gave him her sweetest smile. “You could escort me back to my room, Special Agent Johnson. I would appreciate that very much.”

  The enormous man frowned and looked back to Roman, obviously for permission. Not surprisingly, he addressed her a moment later with resolution on his face. “The president would prefer you stay here, so this is your room now. He’s concerned about some dangerous elements in the city. Our intelligence briefing earlier this evening has everyone concerned, so we’re upping security around the core team. Don’t worry, though. We’ll keep you safe. Could I have the staff bring you something? Some tea perhaps?”

  She didn’t need tea. “I’d like a sharp knife—serrated would be nice—and a tarp, please. There’s no reason to ruin a perfectly good Aubusson rug. It’s innocent. The rug, that is. My victim isn’t. He deserves to feel a lot of pain.”

  Roman rushed over and nudged her from the doorway. “Don’t mind her. She’s upset because The Bachelor isn’t airing here in the UK and I spoiled the ending for her. Please let Sandra inside the living area when she arrives with Ms. Spencer’s luggage.”

  With a saccharine smile, he closed the door. Then he backed her against the frame.

  “You’re really having Sandra bring my stuff to your room?” Gus demanded.

  If he was serious about locking her in his room, she was going to need that knife.

  “I told you. You’re staying here until we head back to the States and that’s the end of it. You can try to get around me but, as you’ve seen, I’ll ensure you stay here tonight and every night we’re in London.”

  “You fucking bas—”

  “This doesn’t have to be contentious.” He moved closer. “What if I promise I’ll keep you up to speed on everything I find out about Special Agent Kemp?”

  She could see exactly how that would go. He would tell her what he wanted her to know, nothing more. He would ensure that everything else would be classified out of her reach. “And you expect me to trust you? Go fuck yourself, Roman.”

  “That’s not the way I planned tonight to end, baby.” His voice had gone low, his gaze dark with desire as he braced his palm on the doorframe above her head and leaned close.

  She couldn’t ignore his heat and pull.

  Her whole body went rogue. Traitorous. She had a very, very stupid vagina because all he had to do was say a few words in that gravelly voice and send her a seductive stare, and she softened up. Her hormones—also very foolish—started pumping through her blood, making their demands known. Her nipples perked up.

  Gus crossed her arms over her chest. “You have got to
be kidding me.”

  “I can’t stay away from you. I know you hate me, but you have to admit we do one thing together exceptionally well.”

  She didn’t argue with him and she didn’t retreat. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he unnerved her. “I thought you were going to talk to Zack.”

  He closed his eyes, jaw clenched. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t. I’m trying to do what’s right for you. What’s right for Mad. Give me one good reason not to tell Zack everything right now. What if Kemp is supposed to kill him in London and we didn’t speak up? Could you live with yourself if he succeeds? I can’t.”

  Was he giving her a chance to play this game her way? Did she dare trust him? Maybe not, but he’d backed her into a corner, and her options were limited. She could either roll the dice with the sexy bastard who had once burned her or stay in the dark, never avenging Mad’s murder.

  Shitty choices.

  “All right. Kemp is going somewhere day after tomorrow. He requested leave. Do you remember what he said when he was talking on the phone? He seemed to think everything would be quiet until he got back. If you go to Zack and have Kemp arrested, he can’t do whatever he’s planned. Which may tell us what the hell he’s up to. And good luck getting him to talk.”

  “We have experts,” Roman murmured. But his words were offhanded. Instead, his attention—and his stare—had wandered to her chest. He sidled even closer.

  Why did every cell of her body heat up the minute she was alone with Roman? Irrelevant. She had to focus, work with him or sit this investigation out. She could do it…even if he had seduction on his mind. Seriously, two could play that game. Yes, he’d manipulated her before, was probably trying to do it again. Why couldn’t she do the same to him?