Cara Summers - Risking It All - The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender

While he took a long swallow of his beer, Hunter studied the tall, quiet man Lucas had introduced as Tracker McBride. He felt perfectly comfortable with Lucas. He felt less comfortable with the man who handled Lucas’s security arrangements.

As if sensing his reservations, Lucas said, “Tracker and I served in a special-forces unit together seven years ago shortly after I left college. He handles all my security, and he’s the best. You can trust him.”

Hunter wasn’t so sure he could trust anyone anymore, but he was willing to take Lucas at his word. Moving to the desk, he extended his hand to Tracker. “Okay.”

“I thought it would save time if you explained to both of us what happened,” Lucas said.

“First, I need to know how confident you are that you weren’t followed,” Tracker said.

Hunter had to give the man points for asking. “I wasn’t followed.” He’d made damn sure of that once he’d had his meeting with Michael and Alex. The small bomb had been delivered to the suite assigned to Jared Slade, a suite he would have been working in if he hadn’t followed Rory Gibbs into Silken Fantasies. And then there was the note. He’d still been rattled about what had happened in that dressing room when Michael Banks had given it to him.

Hell, he was still rattled now. He’d taken a woman he didn’t know—a reporter—in the dressing room of a lingerie shop. Acting on impulse was a luxury he hadn’t allowed himself in years—not since he’d transformed himself into Jared Slade.

And then he’d just left her there. Not that he’d had a choice. Hell, someone had delivered a bomb to his suite. And she’d said that she was all right, though he knew he couldn’t be sure about that.

“Are you sure?” Tracker asked.

Hunter dragged his thoughts back to the question. McBride obviously wanted details. Lucas had picked a good man to head up his security. “Once I read the note, I decided to make myself scarce by escorting Irene Malinowitz back to her shop.” He’d insisted on escorting her back so that he could make sure that Rory really was okay. But she hadn’t been there.

“Then I went back to Les Printemps, left the lobby by the side door and hailed my own taxi. I had the driver drop me off at the Four Seasons where I called Lucas from a pay phone. Then I walked through the lobby, exited by another side door and hailed another cab. This time I went to the airport, rented a car, and followed your directions out here. Not even my two assistants know where I am.”

“Good.” Tracker gestured to one of the chairs in front of Lucas’s desk. “We can talk now.”

Almost amused, Hunter sat down in the chair. “Glad I passed the test. What would you have done if I’d been stupid enough to bring a tail with me?”

Tracker smiled. “We’d have gone somewhere else for our meeting. I don’t like to lose clients.”

“Fair enough,” Hunter said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the note. “My assistant Michael Banks found the package with the bomb and the note when he went to my suite to get some papers. It was on a table in the sitting room.”

“What do the police think?” Tracker asked.

Hunter’s brows shot up. “I didn’t ask them. And I didn’t show them the note. When I left, I heard that they had disassembled the bomb, and they were waiting to question Jared Slade.”

Tracker took the note from Hunter and read it out loud.

“Slade

Ticktock. Ticktock. The bomb is ticking. No matter what you do, soon the world will know who you are and what you did ten years ago. Then you’ll die.”

Tracker met Hunter’s eyes. “Succinct. Lucas mentioned this wasn’t the first note.”

“There’ve been three in all. The other two said the same thing—No matter what you do, soon the world will know who you are and what you did ten years ago. They’re in my safe in my office in Dallas. The first one came right after there was an incident of food poisoning at my hotel in Atlanta. I flew there personally, and even though I’m always careful to keep my whereabouts a secret, the note was delivered to my hotel room. The next note was delivered to my private plane after another incident—a fire in a factory I own in upstate New York. I’m very careful about protecting my privacy, my anonymity. Someone at the very top levels of my organization has to be either behind this or at the very least feeding information to the person or persons who are behind this.”

“Any ideas about who’s after you?” Tracker asked.

Hunter shook his head. “I’m traveling with my chief accountant and my executive assistant, Alex Santos and Michael Banks. I made the reservations at Les Printemps myself, but I informed them where we were staying yesterday. My chief administrative assistant in Dallas, Denise Martin, also knew. There was a woman in the lobby of Les Printemps when we arrived this morning—from Celebs magazine. She took some pictures, and I chased her from the lobby. She says that she got the information from an anonymous tip that was delivered by special messenger to her boss yesterday.”

“Her name?” Tracker asked.

“The name she gave the bellman was Rory Gibbs, and she told me she works for Celebs magazine.”

Tracker and Lucas exchanged glances.

“You know her?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Tracker said. “One of her sisters is a good friend of mine. She’s a detective in the D.C. Police Department. Her other sister works with Lucas’s wife at Georgetown. They’re triplets.”

Without warning, Hunter found his mind wandering back to those few moments when Rory’s legs had been wrapped around him and he’d been deep inside of her.

“Hunter?”

It was Lucas’s voice that drew him back. “Sorry.”

“I was just saying that I can talk to her and see if she’ll give me more information,” Tracker said. “I’ll also see what I can find out about the magazine. It’s interesting that the informant chose Celebs. Why not the Post or something?” Tracker wondered.

“Ms. Gibbs may have been in contact with my office. She’s done research on Jared Slade, and she’s very intent on getting an interview. Denise or Michael may have spoken with her.”

Tracker glanced at Lucas. “If she’s anything like her cop sister, odds are she’ll keep after you.” He looked back at Hunter. “Did she get your picture?”

Hunter shook his head. “No. The pictures she snapped were of Alex and Michael. I took them with me.”

Tracker grinned at him. “Good work. If you ever get tired of running Slade Enterprises, I can offer you a job working security for Wainwright Enterprises.”

Hunter’s answering smile was grim. “If we don’t get to the bottom of this, I might have to take you up on your offer.”

Tracker’s grin faded. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Lucas circled around his desk and sat on one of the corners. “You’ve already narrowed the suspects down to Denise Martin, Alex Santos or Michael Banks. That’s why you let only those three know where you were staying here in D.C. Have you picked a favorite?”

Hunter took a swallow of his beer. Lucas had always been smart. That was what had drawn them together in college. That and the fact that they had family problems in common. Before the notes had started coming, Hunter would have sworn that Lucas was the only person in the world who knew he’d changed himself into Jared Slade.

Now he was afraid that someone else knew, too. But who?

“Denise has worked with me from the beginning of Slade Enterprises. Over the years—six now—she’s become vital to me. I’d have to hire three or four people to replace her. Alex has been with me for four years and Michael for three. They each came to Slade Enterprises right out of business school. For the past year, I’ve worked closely with both of them. Alex is thorough, but not that great with people. But he’s the best number cruncher I’ve got in the company. Michael is a quick study and his instincts are excellent. And he’s good with people. Today, I felt perfectly comfortable letting them handle the final paperwork with Irene Malinowitz.”