Addison knew Randall was only trying to protect her. If the situation had been different she would have been flattered by his staunch protectiveness. But the intensity of his argument, combined with the fact that he was allowing his emotions to impede his decision making, left her distinctly uneasy.
"He doesn't know that," Clint said without looking at him.
"You need to think like a liar." His eyes latched on to Addison. "Make Tate think you want to blackmail him. That's a surefire way to get his attention. He'll come at you with both barrels."
"He won't touch it," Randall said. ''There's no way he's going to meet with either of us."
Clint smiled. ''The man's ego's bigger than Texas, man. He's gonna want to meet his resourceful young offspring. I imagine you've given him a run for his money so far." He reached for the bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. "He'll want to get a good, long look at her before he kills her."
"Goddammit, Clint." Rising suddenly, Randall stalked to the fireplace, his back to them.
"But why the meeting?" she asked. "How will that help us prove anything?"
Randall turned toward them, his face dark with anger. "Clint wants to wire you for sound, Addison. That's his specialty. Bugs, wiretaps, goddamn human electronics. It'll be up to you to get Tate to fess up on tape."
Her throat constricted. She swallowed quickly to hide the lump of fear that had crept up it. "An unauthorized recording, even if he incriminates himself, can't be used against him."
"Not in court," Clint began, "but it'll damn sure be enough to speed up an investigation. The media'll love it." Addison didn't even have to consider. She wanted her life back. All of it. Her peace of mind. Her freedom. She wanted to be safe again. She wanted to be able to walk into her coffee shop and not break out in a cold sweat every time the front door opened. She was tired of having to look over her shoulder every time she left her apartment or got out of her car.
"I'll do it." She had too much at stake not to speak up, not to fight back against a man who'd already taken so much away from her.
Randall spun on them, legs parted, eyes alight with anger. "I don't want her close to him." He jabbed a finger at Addison. "Dammit, you're not going to do it. I won't allow it. There's got to be another way. I'll meet with him."
Clint shrugged, unimpressed by the younger man's wrath. "He won't meet with you."
"He knows she hired me."
"He doesn't know you love her."
Randall just stood there breathing hard, glaring at Clint as if the words had rendered him speechless.
Addison's heart rapped in a steadily increasing rhythm against her breast. She looked at Randall and wondered fleetingly if it could possibly be true.
Without looking at her, he crossed to the coffee table, poured two fingers of whiskey into his glass, then tossed it back in a single gulp. "I don't want her alone with him and that's final. There's got to be another way."
Addison watched him, realizing for the first time that the only reason he was drinking was to drive her away. Damn him. Couldn't he see she wouldn't let him manipulate her like that?
Shaking his head, Clint studied his glass. "I've dealt with this kind of scum before. It may take some time, but he's going to come after you." He looked at Addison. ''We can do it at my gal's restaurant."
Randall glared at him. "Out of the question."
Clint glared back, an equal, matching everything in the younger man's stare less the desperation . "That's why you came to me, son. You'd already thought of this. You were just hoping I'd have a better idea. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't."
Randall sat on the sofa next to her. She could feel the anger pouring off him, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She'd made her decision, and she wasn't going to back down. Randall would just have to come to terms with it.
"What's the restaurant like?" he asked.
"Dark, jazzy, and just obscure enough for him to feel safe. Far enough down on Wisconsin to be considered quiet. The clientele are regulars, mostly happy hour. We're busy late on the weekend. A weeknight would be perfect."
"He'd spot me," Randall said.
"There's an adjoining banquet room we use for larger parties. We can rig up a camera and sound system. We can keep an eye on her from there."
Randall cursed. "I still don't like it."
Clint shrugged, turned to Addison. "Think you can do it?"
Refusing to let them see that her hands were shaking, she pressed them together and looked from one man to the other. ''Tate murdered my parents. I'll do whatever it takes to put him away.”
Randall's eyes burned into her, but she refused to look away. She couldn't. He was too angry. She was too afraid. Dammit, she wasn't going to back down. This wasn't his decision to make.
As if realizing they needed to discuss it further, Clint rose. "Let me know before I get any older," he said. He smiled at Addison. "It was indeed a pleasure meeting you, Miss Fox. I only wish it were under different circumstances."
She smiled back, charmed once again by his grandfatherly manners. "Likewise. We'll be in touch."
At the door, the two men spoke in low tones and then Clint passed a holstered pistol to Randall. They shook hands, then Clint was gone.
Chapter 20