Cindy Dees - The Medusa Proposition

He countered, “There’s nothing to stop you from breaking the story now.”

“Yeah, except national security interests and the safety of everyone at this summit.”

He stared. “Are you telling me you actually have a conscience and think about these things?”

She rolled her eyes and merely strode along faster.

He lengthened his stride to keep pace with her as the hotel loomed.

She muttered, “We shouldn’t be seen together. I’ll walk around to the front through the gardens. You can go inside here and kiss whoever’s butt you need to.”

He grinned. “They mostly kiss mine.”

She retorted dryly, “Well, you enjoy that then.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. She veered away from the ballroom, which appeared to be in an uproar and was emptying quickly. He veered with her. The gardens in this area were crowded with guests and he murmured under his breath, “I’ll give you a ride back to your place.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I never said it was. Nonetheless, the offer stands. My car’s over there.”

Although she glared at him when he took her by the elbow and steered her into the parking lot, she made no further protest. He escorted her to the passenger side of his Jeep and steadied her as she swung into the vehicle. Her ball gown hung up on the door and their hands collided as he reached for the satin to release it. His gaze snapped up to hers.

Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. And something flared in his gut in response. It was lust. Just lust. It had been quite a while since he’d been with a woman. Truth be told, until Paige showed up, he’d been cruising the party in search of a female who’d go for a little meaningless sex. Plenty of women at these affairs knew the score. A few nights of mutual pleasure, no strings attached, no promises. A nice piece of jewelry when it was over, and everyone went their own way. But here he was instead, driving away from the hotel with a virago who’d bite his head off if he even hinted at the idea of jumping into the sack with him. He sighed.

Thankfully, for a busybody, she was capable of keeping her mouth shut now and then. The short ride to her cottage was quiet.

He turned off the beach road and stopped abruptly, flipping off his headlights. “I see lights on at your place. How do you want to play this?”

She studied the pair of large, dark SUVs parked in front of her cottage for several seconds. “I’ll take care of it. You head on back to the hotel. And thanks for the ride.”

Did she seriously think he was just going to toss her to the sharks like this? Without comment, he watched her climb out of the Jeep and square her shoulders. Leaving the lights off, he backed up the vehicle and pulled away. But he only went to the beach road before he pulled over and tucked the Jeep behind a stand of palmettos. His tuxedo wasn’t exactly ideal for sneaking around in the bushes, but it would have to do. After a mental apology to Giorgio Armani for ruining his tux, Tom plunged into the dense undergrowth.

With every light blazing in her little house, it was an easy matter to make his way unseen practically to her back door. Three coplike guys who sounded American were clustered in front of the open door of Paige’s refrigerator examining the bag stuffed inside it.

Four more suited men, who sounded local, were standing by glaring and muttering among themselves. One of them turned to Paige and snapped, “Why were we not informed of this discovery immediately?”

“Monsieur Martine,” she answered evenly, “I notified my government immediately. They deemed the security of the summit more vital than following the exact letter of police procedure.”

“You have interfered with a police matter, madame. You face serious criminal charges.”

Tom watched with interest as Paige’s gaze went the temperature of an arctic glacier. She responded in that same measured tone of voice, “You face a much more serious problem than me, monsieur. When word gets out to the members of the summit that one of their own was murdered, you’re going to have a wholesale flight of many of the delegates from the island. And how will you explain to your superiors that your failure to protect the delegates and or to keep a lid on this security breach caused the collapse of an important international summit? Not to mention the negative impact it’ll have on tourism revenue to your island when I break this story. Every wire service in the world is going to pick it up. There will be a feeding frenzy over it.”

The police inspector blustered and broke into angry French that required no translation. Paige crossed her arms to wait out the guy’s tirade. Tom couldn’t help but notice the spectacular things the pose did to her cleavage in that low-cut gown. The blue satin had seen better days after tonight’s adventures, but the dress was still magnificent on her.

Paige finally interrupted Martine. “Which is it going to be? Am I breaking the story of Ando’s murder on my network within the hour, or are we all going to be discreet and cooperative with one another about this?”

More grumbling from the inspector, but the guy was weakening.

Paige continued in a cool voice. “Inspector, unless you’re planning to arrest me, I need to go to my news bureau. I have a story to file.”

“And exactly what story will that be, madame?” the inspector demanded.

Paige shrugged. “For the record, I am under no obligation to answer your question. But as a courtesy, I will tell you that I do not plan to mention the tragic death of Mr. Ando just yet. His family should have a chance to be notified in private before they hear of it on the TV news. I do, however, plan to broadcast the story of tonight’s attempted shooting of Thomas Rowe.”

Tom jolted. He couldn’t be splashed all over the news like that! If her network broke the story, the others would be crawling all over him before long. He had to stop her. At all costs. He couldn’t afford any publicity. Not here. Not now. She’d ruin everything.

Paige sailed out of the cottage and sagged against the porch railing as her bravado abruptly evaporated. She had no intention of publicizing Ando’s death—her role in it was suspect for one, and secondly, it really could cause a panic at the summit. The United States was committed to seeing this economic conference come off without a hitch, and to that end, she wasn’t about to rock the boat.

The shooting at Rowe, however, was an entirely different matter. He was a private citizen not attached to any delegation. He was also high-profile tabloid fodder. A shooting at him was the stuff of sensationalism, not necessarily serious news or a threat to the summit. She had no compunction about splashing him all over the news.

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