chapter 23
Audrey sat at the senator’s conference table with him protectively flanking her right. Two FBI agents sat across from her, one gently asking questions and the other staring at her as if measuring her for a prison jumpsuit. Obvious interrogation tactic.
“As I was saying,” Agent Clacker said, elbows resting on the table. A kind smile lifted his lips, making him appear about thirty years old and earnest. Very earnest. “We agreed to this interview at the senator’s office because of our respect for him and his office.”
Audrey nodded, noting that any respect for her wasn’t mentioned.
“Tell me about your relationship with George Fairbanks,” Clacker said.
Audrey shrugged. “The senator and I have had several meetings with George Fairbanks regarding TechnoZyn and its possible building of manufacturing plants in Wyoming, which as you know, is the senator’s home state.”
“Have you met George Fairbanks alone?” Clacker asked.
“No.”
“Unlike your relationship with Darian Hannah.” Clacker slipped a picture of Darian across the table. A dead Darian on an autopsy table.
Audrey swallowed, nausea rising up. “Not true. I had a business relationship with both men.”
“Both men?” the up-to-now silent Agent Farland asked. He frowned down a hawklike nose, his gray hair curling over his collar. Definitely the more seasoned of the pair.
Temper flared at the base of Audrey’s neck. “We weren’t having a devil’s three-way, Agent. I knew both men in a professional capacity, as did the senator.”
Senator Nash leaned her way. “What’s a devil’s three-way?” he whispered.
On all that was holy. She kept her face bland and turned toward him. “Kind of like an orgy with one woman and two men. It’s the rage in erotic romances right now.”
A bright red crawled up the senator’s weathered face. “For goodness’ sake, Audrey.” He cleared his throat and faced the agents. “I can vouch for Audrey, here. She wasn’t romantically involved with either Darian Hannah or George Fairbanks, and I believe I attended every meeting she had with them.”
“Except Audrey and Darian’s date two nights ago at Anchonies,” Clacker said, a gleam in his dark eyes.
“Wasn’t a date,” Audrey returned.
The door opened, and a man in a poorly cut beige suit stomped inside.
“Excuse me, but we’re in the middle of an interview,” Clacker said, rising to his feet.
“I know,” the man said, waddling around the table toward Audrey. “I’m Miss Madison’s attorney.”
Audrey frowned and looked closer. Nate? Couldn’t be. The man making his way laboriously toward her weighed three hundred pounds—very soft pounds. He wore blond hair to his shoulders, with the mustache and beard covering his face a slightly darker blond. Brownish eyes squinted out behind large spectacles.
“Um, I didn’t call for an attorney,” she said, watching him closely.
“Yet here I am.” He reached into his pocket and took out cards. “Bubba Jenkins, at your service.”
Holy crap, it was Nate. Even though his voice was higher and carried a Southern twang, she’d know his voice anywhere. He’d chosen the name Bubba? Her make-believe name for a dom who spanked him. Very funny. What in the heck was he doing?
She nodded slowly, searching his ruddy face. How had he turned his complexion so sallow? “I barely recognized you.”
He beamed a wide smile, showing several silver caps on back teeth. “Thank you for noticing. I just lost seventy pounds.” Grunting, he tugged back a chair to wedge his bulk in between the armrests. “So, what are we talking about?”
Her mind reeling, Audrey turned back toward the agents. “We were discussing the dead body found in my apartment.”
“How did he die?” Nate asked, twirling the picture of Darian’s body around and around with one finger.
“Somebody slit his throat,” Agent Clacker said.
“At her apartment?” Nate asked.
“No. The lack of blood spatter in Miss Madison’s kitchen indicates George Fairbanks died elsewhere before being dumped at her apartment.”
Her kitchen. Her bright, cheery, undecorated kitchen where she’d eaten breakfast with Matt that morning. She eyed Nate. Would Matt have killed George Fairbanks? She crossed her legs, trying to get comfortable. “How was George Fairbanks found?” she asked.
“Anonymous call,” Clacker said.
That was odd. Audrey eyed Nate. “Obviously somebody is trying to draw attention to me. Why?”
“Or maybe they’re trying to scare you,” the senator mused. “With Darian dying and now George Fairbanks being found in your apartment, it seems like this is directed at you. Why?”
She shrugged. “I work for a U.S. senator and am easier to get to than you are. Maybe this is about you, Senator.” Though something in her gut warned her the murders were all about her. She sat up straighter. “What if—”
“No conjecture,” Nate cut in smoothly.
Her head jerked. He was right. Her thoughts had instantly gone to the commander and the myriad of soldiers who’d escaped five years ago. Maybe one of the freed soldiers was going after the commander and Audrey’s mother, and she was the best course to do so. The Dean brothers weren’t the only men out there who hated the commander.
Audrey had almost said too much.
Agent Clacker leaned forward. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” She clasped her hands together on the polished table. “I was wondering what Darian and George Fairbanks have in common besides both meeting with the senator this week.” Darian worked as a lobbyist for a military organization, and George Fairbanks was a top executive for a technology firm also vying for military funding. “Do you have a connection?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it. So far, you’re the only connection. Well, you and the senator.” Agent Clacker’s tone made it all too clear he considered her the key.
Nathan hitched his created bulk around in the chair as if unable to get comfortable. “George Fairbanks died earlier today when Miss Madison was meeting with the senator. Her alibi is solid.”
“We agree Miss Madison didn’t kill George Fairbanks, but she may have knowledge about the crime.” Agent Clacker’s expression softened as he turned his attention toward her. “Lying to federal agents is a crime, and I want to assure you, we’re here to help. Don’t be afraid.”
Audrey bit back a laugh. Lying to federal agents? If the guy only had a clue. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve told you everything I know.”
Agent Clacker sighed. “There’s one more thing the men had in common.” He slid another picture across the table. “George Fairbanks had the same brand on his back—a much older brand—as Darian Hannah. What does the brand mean?”
Audrey’s mind spun as she glanced at the PROTECT brand down George’s back, the edges blurry and gray with age. “I have no idea.”
Farland’s phone rang, and he lifted it to his ear. “Yes.” He listened for several moments and then clicked it shut. “Miss Madison, we’d like you to view your apartment to see if anything is out of order or missing. The body has been removed.”
Her hands shook, so she slid them off the table to her lap. “Um, okay.”
Nate pushed back from the table, his chair protesting. “I’ll drive Miss Madison, and we will meet you there.”
Audrey stood, the world morphing. Oh no. She gulped. Her mind spun. Nausea slammed into her. Covering her mouth, she pushed by Nate to bolt from the room, barely making it to the bathroom before she threw up her entire breakfast.
Heaving, tears in her eyes, she flushed the toilet and limped to the sink to wash out her mouth. She spit and held her stomach, taking several deep breaths. She could handle this. Time to buck up.
Patting down her hair, she turned to head out of the bathroom so she could view a crime scene in her own apartment.
* * *
Nate kept one hand on the steering wheel and one on her thigh. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again, weaving her car in and out of traffic as they entered Virginia.
“Yes. Morning sickness is normal.” Well, she’d probably thrown up because of the picture of a dead body, but why admit that? She tugged on the seat belt to give her belly a break. “How did you get rid of the FBI agents?” When she’d finally exited the restroom, only Nate had been waiting.
Nate grinned beneath the thick beard. “I told them they’d upset you and that I’d bring you to the crime scene when you were good and ready. Then the senator pretty much kicked them out of the office. I like that guy.”
“Me too.” Audrey glanced at her watch. “He better have gone to the budget meeting.”
Nate turned a corner and glanced in the rearview mirror of her compact. With his disguise, he barely fit behind the wheel. “The senator said you’d be worried about the meeting and to let you know he left for it.”
“Good.” Audrey glanced at the storefronts outside the window. “This isn’t the fastest way to my apartment.”
“I know.” Nate released her leg to press a button on his cell phone. “Matt?”
Something crackled over the speakerphone. “I see him,” Matt said. “Gray SUV, no plates. Two cars behind you. I’m behind them in a white Escalade.”
Audrey gasped and started to turn around.
“No,” Nate said, bite in his tone. “Look forward and act normal. Matt? Can you tell how many men are in the SUV?”
“Negative. The windows are tinted.” Matt swore, and a horn honked in the distance. “Freakin’ cabbies can’t drive. Take the next left onto Wilson, and I’ll cut these guys off.”
Nate reached down and unbuttoned his jacket. “I’m not armed, Mattie. Just left the Senate building.”
“I know,” Matt returned.
Audrey glanced at Nate and opened the glove box, taking out a Glock 23. “I’m armed.” She released the clip, tapped it against the side of the car, and slammed it home.
Nate’s left eyebrow lifted. “That’s my girl.” He eyed the console between them. “Any chance you have a knife in there?”
“Um, no.” She tugged open the middle console. “Two pens, leather gloves, and a notepad.”
“Great.” Nate held out one arm. “Pull, will you?”
She nodded and yanked on the arm of the cheap suit. Between the two of them, they managed to get the roomy jacket tossed into the backseat. Audrey peered closer at the rubbery suit covering Nate’s chest. “What in the world?”
“Pretend fat.” He cranked the wheel to the left. “I’m leading them away from the public—we can’t afford witnesses,” he muttered.
“Affirmative,” Matt responded through the phone. “Take a right on Jones and a left on Mayberry. I’ll ram them into the fifth empty lot I see, and you head out.”
“We don’t know how many men are there,” Nate snarled.
“Doesn’t matter. Get Audrey to safety. I can handle anybody in the SUV.”
Audrey’s eyes widened as she watched the unmoving phone. “He sounds different when he’s giving orders.”
“I know.” Nate glanced in the rearview mirror, obviously torn between loyalties.
Audrey grasped the gun. “I say we help Matt. Don’t worry, I’ll shoot if necessary.”
Nate eyed her and turned back to the road. “No.”
She gulped, her gaze searching outside at crumbling buildings and empty, littered lots. “I’ve never been to this part of town. Where’s Shane, anyway?”
“Acquiring materials.” Nate jerked the wheel to the right and hit the accelerator. “Matt, we just passed a lot that slopes down. If you hit them right, they’ll go spinning down and maybe out of sight. Keep going, and we’ll rendezvous at Audrey’s apartment.”
“I’d rather chat with them and see what they want,” Matt said tersely.
Nate exhaled, his nostrils flaring. “Me too. But not without backup—one of your rules, Mattie.”
Matt muttered what sounded like expletives in German. Or maybe Russian.
Nate reached over and tugged on Audrey’s seat belt. “Face forward, relax your body, and get ready for speed. I’m going to take a hard right, and then we’re going fast.”
Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. She nodded and dug her nails into the armrest. “I’m ready—”
A rush of movement burst from an alley to the left, silver glittered, and a car smashed into them. The screech of metal cutting into metal filled the air, and Audrey screamed. Momentum threw her head sideways into the window, shattering glass. Pain radiated down her face and through her head. The world fuzzed. Her seat belt tightened, holding firm and bruising her chest.
Nate swore and tried to control the car. The vehicle spun around, twirling.
Twin airbags exploded, sending dust flying. Audrey’s hit hers mid-center, shoving her back into the seat. The gun flew out of her hand. One of their tires exploded as the car tipped up and over a curb.
“We’ve been hit,” Nate yelled to the phone, which had spun onto the floor. “Three men in a silver SUV.”
Panic cleared Audrey’s vision, and her hands went instinctively to her abdomen. The baby.
The car finally stopped spinning, dropping onto flat tires with a hiss. Nate glanced down at the floor and picked up the gun and the phone. Less than a second later, he’d kicked open his mangled door with above-human strength. His unnatural bulk caught on the dented steering wheel and he shoved himself out, already firing.
Calm. Determined. Cold.
No emotion, no wasted movements, no humanity.
Audrey gulped and smashed the now deflated airbag off her legs. Dust whirled around. She coughed, her hands shaking as she tried to unbuckle her belt.
Nate would certainly put his body between her and bullets. She had to get out of the car. Now.
Return fire impacted the hood of the car. Fear rushed her movements. Crying, trying to see, she finally unbuckled her belt. Hard and unyielding, her door hampered her efforts to get out. She had to get out. Finally, her slapping hands found the knob, and she pushed open the door, instantly hitting the rocky ground. Glass cut into her knee, but she stayed down and shut the door, crawling to the rear of the vehicle.
A black SUV jumped the curb, propelled by an even bigger Escalade. Two men jumped out of the SUV, while Matt Dean barreled out of the Escalade, gun out and blazing.
She back-crawled down the side of her car toward the front.
Gunfire echoed all around her.
In the span of three more heartbeats, the world silenced.