Leanne Banks: The Danforths: Marc, Tanya & Abe: The Laws of Passion / Terms of Surrender / Shocking the Senator

By mid-afternoon, her feet were killing her and she was beginning to believe that Marc Danforth was a saint. She sat down in the conference room he’d taken over for their use. Kicking off her shoes under the table and rubbing her nylon-clad feet together, Dana figured the man had better be everything he’d claimed to be. Otherwise, she would be forced to kill him when this was all over—if for no other reason than she’d actually had to put on these crazy high heels for him.

She couldn’t wait for the work day to be done so she could get back into her jeans and running shoes. But in the meantime, she worked on setting up the computer Marc’s secretary had provided. Dana entered her password into the Bureau’s covert Web site and was immediately allowed into the FBI files they’d begun compiling on the cartel.

“Hi. How’s it going?” Marc sauntered in a little while later, followed by a very sophisticated dark-skinned woman dressed in a soft aqua pants suit. “Dana, I want you to meet Jasmine Carmody Brooks. She’s brought us her files on the cartel.”

Dana took Jasmine’s outstretched hand and the two of them immediately understood each other. By her firm no-nonsense handshake and the clearly determined look in her big brown eyes, Dana knew Jasmine was just as much of a competitive go-getter as she was.

Jasmine seemed to be sizing her up, as well. “There’ll be a small article in tomorrow’s paper, announcing Marc’s engagement to the daughter of one of Abraham’s old navy buddies from Louisiana—a Miss Dana Dele-croix. I spoke to your superior, Steve Simon, and he said he’d fix it so that you had a background there in case anyone checked.

“Abraham mentioned the happy news this morning at his press conference when someone questioned him on Marc’s arrest,” Jasmine continued with a smile. “It proved to be quite a diversion.”

Marc pulled out a chair at the conference table for her. They all sat down while Jasmine unearthed a stack of files from a leather briefcase and placed them on the table.

“Dana, Jasmine tells me that a couple of tabloid reporters are sneaking around downstairs, trying to get a line on where we are and when they can try for a picture,” Marc said with a grin. “Are you going to be ready for your first run-in with the paparazzi when we leave here later?”

Dana felt herself grimace and tried to change it into a casual smile. “You sure we can’t just give them the slip? I guarantee you I’m better at hiding than they are at finding people.”

Marc chuckled, but shook his head. “Sorry. But they’ll be bored soon enough, once we let them have what they want. Tomorrow someone else will be their target.”

“Okay, fine,” she muttered. Turning to Jasmine, she watched her place the manila folders on the table.

“I started collecting information on the coffee suppliers and the cartel back in April, right after the Danforth warehouse office explosion,” Jasmine said as she flipped through the files. “Ian has seen all this information. But I told him I wouldn’t break the story while Marc was still involved.”

“Good thing,” Dana told her. “I suspect that Marc is only alive now because he’s the pawn the cartel is using to get to Ian. You break the story on the cartel and Marc’s usefulness is over.”

Once the words were out of her mouth, Dana had a queasy feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. She snuck a peek at Marc’s guarded expression.

Marc. Bright, energetic and a spectacular kisser, Marc Danforth. She couldn’t imagine him being killed, or that anyone could take his fantastic life away from him.

Dana swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes on the folder in Jasmine’s hand.

“These are pictures that I’ve been taking of people coming and going from the coffee suppliers’ offices over on Montgomery Street,” Jasmine told them. “I can identify some of the men, but there are a few that I can’t place.”

Dana looked over her shoulder as Jasmine spread the photos out before her. “There must be hundreds of pictures here.” She looked at each one as Jasmine handed them over. “And the quality is terrific.”

Dana studied each shot carefully. “Wow. Great telephoto lens work here, Jasmine. And just look at the infrared quality of these.” She passed each picture to Marc, after checking the backs for dating references.

“At the beginning I thought I’d get a few candid shots that would be useful for an article,” Jasmine said. “But the longer I sat there, the more I realized that nothing much happened at that office during the daylight hours. No one important went in or out. So I started watching the building late at night. That’s when I got the best shots.”

“What did Wes have to say about all this late night work?” Marc asked.

“You know Wes. He’s a computer fanatic,” Jasmine told Dana with a chuckle. “After-midnight work might as well be broad daylight to him.”

Jasmine hesitated a moment before continuing. “Well that is, until he suddenly figured out which part of town I’d been going to all those late nights. He has asked me not to go back alone.”

Dana shot a concerned glance toward the self-assured woman. “He’s absolutely right. Don’t go there alone…in fact…don’t go back there at all. Let the FBI take over the surveillance now.”

Jasmine raised her chin. “It’s my story.”

“Naturally. I’ll ask my boss to make sure you’re the one to break any news.” Dana spotted a blurry face in one of the night shots. “Is that Escalante?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve only seen his photo on the Internet.” Jasmine handed her a magnifying glass. “Whoever that man is, he arrived in the company of several goons and a chauffeur. It could be Escalante.”

Marc remained quiet as they rifled through the photos. The idea that he was looking at drug lords—at men who held his fate in the palm of their hands—had taken the spark right out of him.

He glanced down at the picture in his hand and almost passed it by. Then the reality of what he was seeing hit him. “I can’t believe this. Jasmine, have you ever seen this man before?” Waving the picture at her, he forced himself to calm down and try to hold the photo steady.

Both women looked at it. “Actually, that man did look familiar to me,” Jasmine replied after she’d checked the photo in his hand. “But I haven’t been able to place him. I do remember that he showed up at the coffee suppliers office just before dawn twice in the last month.”

The anger swiftly blasted past his normal reserve. “Son of a bitch.” Marc handed the picture to Dana. “This is David Chastain. He’s an assistant federal prosecutor for our district. And he’s in charge of prosecuting my case.”

“Well, that makes him a very interesting man in my book,” Dana said calmly.

“Interesting?” He tried to keep his voice steady but tiny cracks of tension burst through. “Don’t you see what this means? Chastain must be working for the cartel. He’s the one that helped them frame me.”

“Again,” Dana began. “Interesting premise. But you don’t have any proof.”

“Proof? Why else would a federal prosecutor be sneaking into a known cartel front? And before dawn at that?”

Dana laid her hand on his forearm. “Calm down, Danforth. We’ll run a background check on him. That’ll give us a start. Then we’ll check his bank records and credit lines.”

He knew she was just trying to placate him. “All of that is circumstantial,” he ground out. “And besides, it’ll take too long. You heard Ian. We’ve only got a couple more weeks to get my name cleared or Ian gives in to the cartel.”

“We can’t panic here and ruin the investigation,” she said softly. “Let’s just take each step as it comes. We’ll find the proof we need to clear your name.”