Кей Хупер - Blood Ties

“Any more questions?” His voice was a little rough.

Very conscious of his fingers moving against her neck and of the hardness of his shoulder beneath her own clutching fingers, Hollis thought, Wow , but had sense enough not to say it.

Except he’s a telepath and… Dammit .

“Urn… this is very sudden,” she heard herself say inanely.

“Not really. We met months ago.”

“Yeah, but… we haven’t… I mean… You never said anything.”

“I’m saying something now.”

Casting about for something not inane to say in response, she finally managed, “I think your timing could use a little work.”

DeMarco smiled slightly. “Never the time and the place. Hollis, if something happens to either of us, I’m not going to be like Quentin, wishing I’d spoken up when I had the chance. So I’m speaking up now. You don’t have to say anything one way or the other, but I wanted you to know that I’m… more than interested. In you. In being with you.”

She hesitated, conscious of a clock ticking away in her mind with the uneasy urgency Andrea had created. Still, she had to say something . He probably already knew, but… “Reese, to say I’ve got a lot of baggage is a huge understatement.”

“That’s okay. Baggage doesn’t bother me. It makes us who we are.”

She tried again. “After what happened to me, I don’t even know if I can respond normally to a man.” She hated making that admission but figured once again that he probably knew anyway.

He pulled her toward him again just far enough to kiss her, and this time it lasted awhile.

When she could breathe again, Hollis murmured, “Okay, maybe that isn’t going to be such a problem, after all.”

DeMarco was still wearing that faint smile, only now there was something sensuous about it. “I’m thinking it probably won’t be. But you don’t have to worry. I won’t pressure you.”

“Yeah?” She managed an unsteady laugh. “And when does the not-pressuring me part start?”

“Right now.” He kissed her one final time, briefly but not at all lightly, then let her go and got up off the bed. In a perfectly normal voice, he said, “If you mean to try to help Diana, I think we both need time to shower and get something to eat first.”

“But—”

“You need energy, Hollis. Fuel. It won’t do Diana any good if you collapse because you haven’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours. It’s well after two.”

She resented his normal voice, especially since she couldn’t match it; to her own ear she still sounded out of breath and flustered. And full of inane questions. “A.M. or P.M.?”

“P.M. Still Thursday. Come on.”

Hollis took his extended hand, conscious of faint panic and a much stronger sense of inevitability.

Some things had to happen just the way they happened.

If she’d learned nothing else with the SCU, she had most certainly learned that.

Washington, D.C.

He was surprised but not astonished when the Director got in touch to arrange another meeting, assuming there had been a change of mind after some considered thought. He was a little annoyed that the venue Micah Hughes chose was a conference room in a small hotel just off the Beltway but guessed it was the Director’s attempt to avoid more openly public spots and the risk of recognition.

He found the room without the need to ask a staff member and opened the door fully expecting to see FBI Director Micah Hughes.

Instead, Noah Bishop was seated on the opposite side of the big Conference table between them, his hands resting on a plain manila folder. The folder was closed.

“Well, Agent Bishop. Fancy meeting you here.” He remained outwardly calm as he came into the room; he had faced too many powerful men across too many boardroom tables to fold at the first sign of trouble. He remained on his feet, resting his own hands on the tall back of one of the chairs but not pulling it out. Once he sat down, he conceded the power position to Bishop and he knew it.

His mind raced, considering the possible ramifications of this, but he had no intention of making it easy for Bishop, no matter what the agent was up to.

“Thank you for coming. We weren’t sure you would. I gather you usually choose the meeting spots,” Bishop said coolly.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Bishop shook his head just once. “I didn’t intercept the call, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, from all I can gather you seem to have greatly exaggerated the extent of my reach. And my interests. It’s never been about power with me. Not your kind of power.”

“Of course not. You merely cultivated other powerful people because it amused you.”

“No. Because I knew I’d need them one day. When a man like you came after me—for whatever reason.” The scar down Bishop’s left cheek stood out whitely against his tanned skin, the only visible sign of any tension. “I have to admit, I never expected a reason like yours. Revenge, sure. Retaliation. Even just to remove me before I could become a problem for someone. But I didn’t expect to be a kind of rival. This kind, at any rate.”

“Agent Bishop—”

“You’re so wrong on so many counts it’s hardly worth talking about. Except to note that your jealousy and resentment led you down one of the darkest paths I’ve ever seen.”

“So dramatic. Should I ask you to define this ‘dark path’ for me?”

Again, Bishop shook his head just once. “You do realize that once I tell him who is really responsible for the murder of his daughter, Senator LeMott will destroy you.” It very clearly wasn’t a question.

He stiffened but said, “I was in no way connected to that unfortunate girl’s tragic death.”

“You most certainly were. Oh, I don’t have courtroom proof. But I have proof enough for LeMott. Believe me. He had Samuel killed on a lot less. Unlike you, he has complete faith in the abilities of myself and my team. All our abilities.”

“So you’re going to tell him you saw my face in your crystal ball?” He managed a laugh and knew it sounded convincingly amused.

“I’m going to tell him the truth. That Samuel and his pet monster were fully funded by you in Boston. I don’t know whether you were aware going in of exactly what he meant to do—or how he meant to do it. But I do know you continued to fund him even afterward, when you had to know how your money was being used.” Bishop’s wide shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “Not that LeMott will be listening beyond that point. He’ll only care that you were the catalyst that got his daughter killed.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

As if he hadn’t heard that, Bishop said, “It was an interesting tactic you chose, that attack on three levels. First Samuel’s rampage, keeping myself and the team fully occupied, then you dripping poison into the Director’s ears about the unit and me, and, finally, making sure I’d know about that poison. And wonder where you got it.”

“Maybe you have a traitor on the team, Bishop.” Despite his best efforts, the words emerged viciously.

“No. That’s what you wanted me to think. Wanted all of us to think. So we’d doubt one another, or at the very least wonder. So the trust painstakingly built up between us for years would begin to break down. And that was really where you overplayed your hand. Because that was … very personal, that part of the attack. That was an attempt to gut me—and the SCU. So I had to wonder who could possibly hate me that much. And why.”

“I’d be wondering about that traitor if I were you.” He couldn’t let that go, still believing it was the wedge he needed.

Still hoping.