Лиза Джонс - Hot Secrets

She dropped her head to his chest. “I’m afraid to believe you.”

He tilted her chin up, gently forced her to look at him. “Then I’ll show you and tell you until you do.”

And when he expected her to push him away, she whispered. “Promise?”

Relief washed over him and he kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss and it took everything inside him to end it. “I promise.”

“I’m not going to tell you I love you now,” she said.

“Now?”

“Not now.”

“If there’s a later, I can live with that.” He wiped smudged lipstick from her cheek. “The police aren’t involved. I used my FBI contacts and they claimed jurisdiction and sealed the file. No press, and I have a guy over there working this already. He’s simply no longer doing it off the books. He’s a good man. This will be kept quiet.”

Tension rushed from her body. “Thank you, Royce.”

“Thank me by being safe. It’s Tuesday. Your jury selection is still scheduled for tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then, I’m going to work through the evidence from last night before then. I have a feeling our guy will show up for that. I have three men on the building. I’m one phone call away. If you feel even a tiny bit uncomfortable, you call and I’m here. I’ll take you home.”

Her phone rang, she dug it out of her purse and he watched her hit ‘ignore’. She glanced up at him. “My father. According to his five messages, he wants me to drop this case before I get ‘everyone killed.’”

For once he was beginning to agree with the senator, and for his own selfish reasons. He wanted Lauren safe. “I’ll walk you upstairs and I’ll pick you up inside your office.”

***

Several hours later Lauren had finally managed to focus on her work, and was deep in concentration when the buzzer on her desk made her jump. She hit the button.

“Lauren?”

“Oh God, I know that tone to your voice. Who is here that I don’t want to see?”

“Mommie Dearest,” she whispered.

“What? Why in the world… Sharon is here?”

“Oh yes.”

This was odd and unexpected. “Fine. Send her in.”

“Good luck.”

Yeah, I’ll need it, Lauren thought. Obviously Sharon wanted something. It was the only time she heard from the woman. Dropping her pen on the desk, she leaned back in her chair, hands settling on the arms rests.

Dressed from head to toe in Chanel, her skirt short and fitted, her perfume obnoxious, Sharon sashayed into the office.

“Hello, darling,” she purred. ”How is my favorite stepdaughter?”

“I’m your only stepdaughter,” Lauren reminded her.

“Yes, dear, and that makes it even more special now, doesn’t it?” She set her purse on a nearby chair, and moved to a decorative mirror on Lauren’s wall, inspecting her appearance.

“What is it you want, Sharon?” Lauren asked without any effort to hide her impatience. “I have a lot on my plate today.”

Dabbing at her lipstick first, obviously in no hurry, Sharon turned with a heavy sigh. “I want to talk about Brad.”

“Brad. The house had a bomb in it last night and you want to talk about Brad.”

“I want to talk about getting your life back on track. Clearly, you’re spinning out of control and taking the rest of us with you.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “And it seems to me that now, right after you almost got us all killed, is the perfect time to talk about real change. Quit this fool’s game you play in this place and get serious about a bigger picture. Your father is being urged to run for the Republic presidential card again this term. He’s seriously considering it, but to get the backing he needs, and that will be a massive cash influx, we must be solid as a family. This is a greater calling, a way to change the world. We all must make sacrifices, which means you have to stop this thing you do here and now. Battered women deserve sympathy, not the electric chair. You are making your father look bad.”

Lauren stood up. “This conversation is over.”

Sharon didn’t get up. “I’ve talked to a consultant who thinks you and Brad being pulled together by family tragedythe loss of your mother, of course, would be a story that warms hearts. It would show love found in the midst of pain. It would talk to the public.”

“Are you crazy? Is your consultant crazy? That’s practically incest.”

Sharon waved that away. “You lived in the same household for a flutter of a moment and you are not blood related. It’s a fairy tale.”

“Does my father know this?”

“Of course not. He is too stressed. I told him I’d do everything. I’d clear the path to the oval office and find the money. All he has to do is focus on his political strategy.”

“This ridiculous, insane conversation is over. I truly think you’ve finally proven to me you are not completely of this world, Sharon.”

“Sit down, Lauren,” she said sharply. “We are not done. Not even close.”

Lauren glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting with my boss in ten minutes. I need to freshen up and get going.” Grabbing her purse, Lauren waved towards the door. “I’ll walk you out on my way to the washroom.”

Sharon drew in a breath, her eyes blazing fire. “Fine. I’ll talk to your father. Expect his call.” She turned and marched for the door.

Lauren followed her to the door and watched her leave. “Queen Bitch,” Alice mumbled, standing up and fluffing her gray hair. “I’m going to the mailroom. That new supervisor needs to ask me a question.”

Lauren smiled weakly, aware of Alice’s crush. “Enjoy. I’m headed to my meeting.” She followed Alice to the hallway and then stopped in the bathroom, happy to find it empty. She paused at the mirror, her fingers trailing over her lips, her mind replaying Royce’s kiss, his words. I love you, Lauren.

She was just told to stop fighting for what she cared about, for what she thought was right and wrong in this world. Last night, this morning, she’d almost done that with Royce. The one person, other than his brothers, who had told her to keep going, who believed in what she did, in who she was. He felt right. He felt worth the risk. And he already had her heart. There was no sense trying to protect it. “I love you, too,” she whispered, unable to deny the truth.

Feeling remarkably better considering the threats, the bomb, and a stepmother who was probably mentally ill, she headed for the door when the fire alarm went off. Oh good grief, not again. These test runs the building did disrupted everything. She reached for the door and then frowned. It didn’t open. She tried again and it didn’t move. Dropping her purse to the ground she tugged with two hands. Nothing.

Suddenly, the alarm became a part of a new nightmare. What if the building really was on fire? Oh, God, it was. There was a fire, and she was going to die. She grabbed her purse and scrambled for her phone, then hit auto-dial for Royce. No signal. She hit every auto-dial he’d put in her phone. Nothing. She was trapped in a burning building.

Chapter Nineteen

Royce had barely made it back to his building and sat down at his desk in the Walker office when Blake sauntered in, his long hair damp and slicked back, his stubble dark and unattended.

“Nice shave,” Royce commented.

“I showered. I changed. I’m staying here today. This is as good as it gets.” He sat down at one of the four steel desks in the office, directly across from Royce, leaned back in his chair, and kicked his boots up on the top.

“Morning, angels,” Luke said, shoving through the door, his short hair neatly groomed, his face clean shaven.

Blake glanced over his shoulder at him. “Oh, yes. Morning, angel. Kiss, kiss, and cheery sunshine happiness to you.” He grumbled something under his breath and then said, “I just heard from my ATF contact.”