After Midnight (24 page)

“At least you're honorable enough to stand by her,” Clayton said stiffly.

“Stand by her, hell. I love her! Do you think
I'd have touched her in the first place if I hadn't had honorable intentions?” he demanded. “She was a virgin, for God's sake!”

Clayton gaped at him. He hadn't expected that answer. “A virgin?”

“You didn't know?”

“It's hardly the sort of thing a man can discuss with his sister.” He hesitated. So many things were beginning to become clear. “I thought Nikki knew it all. She doesn't really know anything…” He looked up. “You said you loved her.”

“I loved her the day I met her,” came the grim reply. “I couldn't stop. I tried, though.” Kane took a sip of the scotch. His head lifted and he glared at the other man. “You're a damned blackguard of a politician. You planted that waste at the dump site deliberately and led the media to it.”

“No, I didn't,” Clayton said honestly. “Haralson had one of his cronies find the dump and call in the media. I still don't know all of it. The one thing I'm sure of is why he did it. Your father apparently printed a story about his father that got him kicked off the president's cabinet some years ago and Haralson's mother committed suicide. It's you he's after, not Sam Hewett.”

Kane whistled. “I wondered why the name sounded familiar. It's a wonder I didn't recognize it sooner, but I had other things on my mind.” He looked up and frowned. “But why are you here?”

Clayton didn't even blink as he replied. “Because I can't let him blackmail Nikki—or myself—for that matter. If I lose the election, I'll do it honestly. I don't need to use underhanded methods.”

“Who else is he blackmailing?”

“My ex-brother-in-law.”

“Torrance is gay, I take it?” Kane asked quietly.

“It's a little more complicated than that,” he replied. “It's his secret, although he did tell me when they got divorced. I thought Nikki knew, but I don't suppose that she does now.”

“I won't tell her. But I'm going to know.”

Clayton hesitated, but only for a minute. He shrugged and quietly told the other man what he wanted to know.

Kane was silent for a long time. “You read about these things. You never quite believe them.” He glanced at Clayton. “Haralson knows, I gather?”

“No. He suspects what you did,” Clayton replied, smiling. “What he doesn't realize is that if Mosby were gay, he wouldn't be hiding it in the first place. He's not the sort. In fact, he has any number of gay friends.”

“Which is probably where the rumors started.”

“No doubt.”

Kane stared at the photograph again. He grimaced. “Nikki isn't going to like this, but I only
know of one way to stop a blackmailer short of killing him.” He picked up the photo with a regretful smile. “I think you know what has to be done.”

“That's why I came.” He got to his feet. “You'd better marry her soon. She lost her breakfast this morning.”

“And this is only the first week.” Kane grinned like a Cheshire cat. “My poor Nikki.”

Clayton glared at him. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

“For making a baby?” he asked, eyebrows levering up. “I lost mine,” he said, his voice deepening. “My son. I thought my life was over, that I'd never have the nerve to try again. But Nikki opened up the world for me. Ashamed? My God. I'm going to strut for the rest of the day, and then I'm going to drag Nikki up in front of the first minister I can find.” He reached in a drawer and produced a document. “That is a marriage license. You can come to the wedding, but after that, we will not expect you to be a regular visitor. Especially until after the election, which my candidate is going to win.”

Clayton found himself grinning. “You bastard.”

Kane grinned back. “It does take one to know one,” he pointed out.

“You're going to print that?” he nodded toward the photograph.

“Can you think of another way?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Then the sooner, the better. Don't tell Nikki. I'll break it to her tonight.”

Clayton glanced at him. “You'd better make her happy.”

“That's a foregone conclusion. She loves me, you see,” he added quietly. “She might not know it—or admit it—just yet, but she does.”

“Does she know how you feel?”

Kane stuck his hands in his pockets. “I've been keeping that to myself.” He looked up. “We always expect women to read minds. I guess sometimes they need telling.”

“I guess.” He went out the door. He looked back at Kane. “Like hell your candidate is going to win,” he tossed over his shoulder. Deep laughter followed him into the yard.

 

Bett was lounging on her sofa with the phone to her ear. She started cursing and her face grew redder and redder. She sat up.

“But he can't do that! He can't fire you!”

Haralson laughed. “He isn't going to. I had his sister followed recently when she had a clandestine meeting with Kane Lombard. I got some photos that he isn't going to want to see printed.”

Bett relaxed. “Thank God for that. What are we going to do?”

“I thought you were going to marry him.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she shot back. “He's useful, but not that useful. I have no intention of living in Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Snob.”

She twisted the cord around her finger. “Mosby won't like it if you use that photo. He's still protective of Nikki.”

“He won't know until it's too late. He won't bother me, either. I know something about him.”

Bett smiled. “What?”

“That's for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Be secretive. I'll make Clayton tell me.”

“You'd better hurry, then, because he had a long tête-à-tête with his ex-secretary the other night and he's having lunch with her today.”

“What?!”

“I didn't think you knew. If I were you, sweetie pie,” he said sarcastically, “I'd spend a little time protecting my hunting preserve.”

“Call Sam Hewett,” she said shortly. “Tell him that his exec is out hobnobbing with the enemy camp!”

“I had that in mind,” Haralson said.

“What will you do if Clayton comes up with something to use against you?” she asked after a minute.

“Mosby will save me. He'll have to.”

“Then it will be all right, I guess.”

Haralson laughed. “Of course it will.”

 

Senator Mosby Torrance was fielding questions from reporters after a news conference. He'd supported the president on a vote to assist U.N. troops in the Serbia-Bosnian hostilities. His eyes lit on one particular female reporter for CNN, a beauty if there ever was one.

After the conference he paused to talk to her, his blue eyes appreciative on her exquisite skin. She had to be in her thirties, but she was a heavenly combination of beauty, brains and personality. She made his head spin….

A telephone call was waiting for him when he got back to the Senate Office Building. He motioned his secretary to put it through.

“Great timing!” Haralson laughed curtly when he heard Mosby's voice. “I caught you coming in the door, I guess?”

“I guess.” Mosby was bitter and sounded it.

“Did I interrupt something? I hope not. Listen, I'm turning some photos of your ex-wife over to the press.”

Mosby went silent. “What sort of photos?”

“Pictures of her with Kane Lombard in a, shall we say, compromising position.” He laughed. “I don't expect you to say a word,” he added coldly. “I know what you are. Unless you want the media
all over you, closet queen, you'd better do as I say.”

Mosby's eyes widened. “What did you call me?”

“Stop playing dumb! You've always known that I knew. You're gay.”

Mosby's eyes twinkled. He felt liberated. He'd kept this barracuda on the payroll for years because he'd had the threat of exposure hanging over his head. And all along Haralson had thought he was gay?

He started laughing. He started and couldn't stop.

“I'll tell the whole damned world!” Haralson was threatening.

The laughter got worse. Vaguely, Mosby was aware of cursing and the slam of the telephone receiver. This was too good to be true.

But when he got hold of himself, he remembered what Haralson had said about some compromising photos of Nikki. He really couldn't allow her to be hurt by his own blackmailer. He owed her a warning.

He had his secretary dial Nikki. But the number he had wasn't the right one. It had been changed. He'd have to call Clay. He hoped there was enough time to save Nikki from whatever diabolical fate Haralson had planned for her.

The phone rang several times before it was answered. Finally a feminine voice replied, “Hello?”

Mosby recognized the voice. It was Bett. He almost spoke, but then he remembered that she and Haralson were thick as thieves. Had she been selling him down the river all along? He couldn't let her in on what he knew.

Slowly, he put down the receiver. He thought for a minute, then he buzzed his secretary. “Get me on the next flight to Charleston,” he said.

“But, Senator, you've got a committee meeting…”

“Call and explain that I have an emergency in my district. Tell them,” he added, “that it's a family emergency.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up and reached for his attache case. If he hurried, he might be in time to avert a disaster for Nikki—and, inadvertently, one for Clayton.

A
tall, slender man wandered into the executive offices of Lombard, International. He was wearing jeans and boots with a long-sleeved red shirt and a denim jacket. His hair was in a ponytail and he wore dark glasses. He flashed his credentials and was immediately allowed into the big boss's office.

Kane Lombard was big and fierce-looking—not a man Cortez would have enjoyed tangling with.

“What can I do for you?” he asked Cortez after motioning him into a chair and offering him coffee.

“I want to talk to a man who works for you—a man named Jurkins.”

Kane scowled. “Will Jurkins?”

“That's him.” He hesitated. “There's something I'd better tell you up front. I do work for the government, but I have no jurisdiction here and no
authority to question anyone in this particular circumstance.” He leaned forward. “But if you'll give Jurkins to me for about three minutes, I think I can help you extricate yourself from this damned mess that I helped Haralson mire you in.”

“You…?”

“Sit down,” Cortez said wearily, motioning an infuriated Kane back into his executive chair. “I'm a tenth degree black belt. Just take my word for it and don't ask for proof. I didn't know what I was doing. Haralson wanted a favor. I hate polluters. I've prosecuted any number of them over the years. But I'm on my first vacation in a decade and Haralson cost me any rest I might have gotten. Why don't you send for Jurkins and I'll let you in on a few closely guarded secrets about that toxic waste dump?”

Kane only hesitated for a minute. “All right.” He hit the intercom button. “Get Jurkins back in here. Don't tell him I've got company.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” came the dry reply.

 

The last person in the world that Nikki expected to find on her doorstep was her ex-husband. Mosby Torrance looked tired, but he smiled as she stood aside to let him into the house.

“Sorry to show up like this, Nikki, but you and Clay changed your telephone number,” he explained, when they were seated in the living room.

“We had to,” she said. “Too many people had it.” She studied his face with quiet affection. He was older, but still devastatingly handsome. Mosby, with his blond hair and blue eyes and perfectly chiseled patrician face. If it hadn't been for Kane, and the feelings he'd ignited in her, she might still be mourning Mosby.

“Haralson called me earlier,” he told her. He leaned forward with his arms crossed over his knees. His eyes narrowed. “Nikki, he's got some photographs of you and Kane Lombard.”

“Yes, I know,” she said tightly. “But I've dealt with Haralson. He won't print them.”

“Yes, he will,” he said finally, watching her react. “Oh, not now, probably—but closer to the election, yes, he will. He's gone over the edge, Nikki. He wants to hit everybody. If he publishes those photographs, he can hurt a lot of people.”

She looked at him with anguish in her face. “I didn't know I was being followed. I was so careful…”

“You have no idea what sort of people he conspires with,” he told her quietly. “Nikki, they have cameras so tiny they can be fed under doors, through windows. They have cameras and sound equipment that can pick up actions and conversations from great distances. Haralson has connections at the FBI and even the CIA.”

“He's angry at Clay because I wanted Clay to
fire him. He's angry at me, too. He'll cut us both down…”

“I'm not going to let him cut down anybody,” he replied. “He thinks he's got me on a meathook. In fact, I know someone who can settle his hash for good.”

“Why didn't you do something before?” she asked.

“Because he had something on me. Or thought he did.” He searched her eyes sadly. “You never knew why I couldn't consummate our marriage.”

“I found out,” she said, averting her eyes. “You let me find out.”

“I let you find me in bed with a man,” he replied. “But I'm not gay.”

She turned back toward him, her eyes wide as saucers.

“Ask Clay,” he said wearily. “Tell him I said it was all right to tell you. I've come to the conclusion that he was right all along. If I'd admitted the problem in the beginning and had something done, who knows how it might have turned out. As it is, I'm going to have to do something, as distasteful as it seems to me. I can't go on like this, risking blackmail and pretending to be something I'm not just to spare myself embarrassment.” He opened the attache case while a puzzled Nikki stared at him. He tossed a packet of papers onto the coffee table. “Think of it as counterblack-
mail,” he said. “Give those to Clay, with my blessing.”

“What are they?” she asked, picking up the sealed envelope.

“Things you don't need to know, little one. Tell Clay that I've already set these wheels in motion. The material in there—” he pointed to the envelope “—is just for his information. He won't need to do a thing. Not one single thing. He thought he had an ally, you see.” Mosby smiled slowly. “But it was my ally.”

He got up and moved closer to Nikki. His fingers lightly stroked down her cheek and his regrets were all in his eyes. “I was trying to save my political neck when I let your father force you into marrying me,” he said quietly. “I panicked. Because I did, we both suffered. We couldn't have a normal marriage and I thought too much of you to make a travesty of it, so I pretended to be something I wasn't.”

Her eyes searched his. “I wouldn't have cared what was wrong,” she said huskily. “I loved you!”

He drew in a long, hard breath. “I know.” He smiled sadly. “That's the cross I have to carry with me. I'm glad you found somebody, Nikki. I hope he can make you happy.”

“He could have,” she said miserably. “I love him very much. But Haralson has killed it all. He
made me lie to Kane, and now Kane will hate me.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” His fingers loosened and fell away from her face. “You deserve a little happiness.”

“What about you, Mosby?”

He shrugged. “I'll go overseas and have some discreet surgery,” he said mysteriously. “After that…I'll see.” He laughed curtly. “I'd rather not, but I seem to have very few choices left. There's always a Haralson around.”

“Everybody has skeletons, didn't you know?” she asked.

“Most people are lucky enough not to have them disinterred, though.” He smiled. “Don't look so morose, Nikki. Dreams still come true.”

“Not in my life, they don't,” she said.

He searched her sad eyes one last time and left the house as quickly as he'd entered it.

Nikki studied the envelope in her hand with a curious frown. What in the world could Mosby have in there that would save Clay from Haralson?

 

Jurkins entered the office for the second time in as many days. He was more nervous this time, though, especially when he saw the dark-haired man sitting across from Mr. Lombard.

He stopped just inside the closed door and stared from one man to the other.

“This is Cortez,” Kane introduced. “Will Jurkins,” he indicated the other man.

They shook hands. Cortez noticed that Jurkins's palms were sweaty and hot. The man was almost shaking with nerves.

He sat down heavily in the chair adjacent to Cortez's. “Yes, sir, what did you want?” he asked Kane.

Kane leaned back in his chair and crossed one long leg over the other. “I want to know how you managed to pay off your daughter's medical bill at the local clinic.”

Jurkins's caught breath was eloquent. He shivered.

“Several thousand dollars in a lump sum,” Kane continued. “You paid cash.”

Jurkins started to try to bluff it out, but these men weren't going to fall for any bluff. He was unprepared, caught red-handed. Well, there was one thing he could try. He slumped and put his head in his hands. He let out a heavy, hard breath. “I knew it would come out,” he said huskily. “But I couldn't turn him down. I was afraid they'd stop treating my baby if I didn't have the money. It's just me, we haven't got anybody else. I couldn't lose her.”

He lifted tired eyes to Kane's. “She's all I got in the world. It didn't sound so bad, when he explained it to me. All he wanted me to do was say
that one company wasn't working out and hire another one to take its place. That's all. He never said I was to do something illegal, Mr. Lombard. He just said I was to tell you the other company didn't do its job right. He said I was to do that, and to hire Burke's to replace it. That's all.”

“You didn't ask him why?” Kane asked coldly.

“My little girl's got leukemia!” Jurkins said miserably. “I had to get her bills caught up so they wouldn't let her die!”

Kane felt the man's pain, but Cortez showed no such reaction. He leaned toward the man. His dark eyes were steady, intimidating. “Your little girl goes to St. Jude's,” he said quietly. “The only expense you have is at the clinic and it isn't several thousand dollars worth. Your daughter does have leukemia. She is also in remission, and has been for six months. However, Mr. Jurkins,” he added very quietly, “you are a heroin addict. And the clinic you frequent is the province of one of the most notorious drug lords in the Carolinas. You took the money from Haralson to support a habit—not to secure your daughter's health.”

Jurkins had jumped up, but Cortez had him in one lightning-fast motion, whipped around and shoved back down into the chair. Cortez stood over him, powerful and immovable, and Jurkins decided to cut his losses while he could.

“All right, I did it. But I couldn't help it,” Jurkins groaned. “I couldn't, I couldn't…!”

“Would you telephone the local police, please,” Cortez asked Kane. “I think we'd better have the assistant D.A. over here, too, and the Department of Health and Environmental Control field representative.”

Kane shook his head as he studied the broken man before him. “Jurkins, didn't you have enough grief already?” he asked sadly.

“I had…too much,” the man whispered, his head down. “Too much grief, too much pain, too much fear…and too little money and hope. It got to me so bad. At first it was just enough to make me sleep, when she was in the hospital, to make me forget how bad it was. But then, it took more and more…” He looked up at Kane. “It was just to hire another company to haul off your trash,” he said, as if he couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. “What's so bad about that?”

Kane and Cortez exchanged glances. It was just too much trouble to try to explain it to him. He didn't understand at all.

 

After Jurkins was taken away Kane drank coffee with Cortez, trying to find the right way to thank him.

“It's my job,” Cortez said with a lazy smile.
“Sometimes, though, I don't enjoy doing it. Jurkins's little girl is the one who'll suffer the most.”

“No, she won't,” Kane promised tersely. “I'll make sure of that. He'll get treatment and I'll try to have the charges against him reduced. I'll get him a damned good lawyer.”

Cortez smiled quizzically. “He nearly closed you down.”

“So he did. But a miss is as good as a mile.”

Cortez finished his coffee and got to his feet. “I'm glad it worked out for you.”

“It hasn't yet. But maybe it will.” He shook hands with the other man and scowled curiously. “Listen, how did you get onto Jurkins?”

“Through Haralson. He's been watched for several months,” came the surprising reply. “He was supplying the clinic where Jurkins got his stuff—part of his money-making operation.”

“I saw him with Clayton Seymour one day. I did wonder how a senate aide was able to afford a BMW,” Kane had to admit.

“Through selling drugs,” Cortez replied. “I let Haralson think I was here on vacation. I didn't know he was after you, but I was hoping for a link to that clinic. And there it was.”

“Luckily for me,” Kane said.

“Indeed. Fingering the clinic was only one part. I had to have corroboration from a witness who would testify. Until now, I couldn't get one. Har
alson played right into my hands. I traced the dump site back here and found your man Jurkins at the end of it. He tied up all my loose ends at once.”

“What happens now?”

Cortez lifted an eyebrow. “I have Haralson arrested for drug trafficking and merge back into the woodwork in Washington.” He lowered his voice. “I'm not supposed to be working in this area.”

“You're government,” Kane pointed out.

“I was FBI. At another time I was CIA. But now I'm not so visible, or in quite the same sort of work. A friend of mine died of an overdose earlier in the year,” he added surprisingly. “Haralson was involved. I had a score to settle, and the timing was right.”

“If you're no longer in law enforcement, what sort of work do you do?” Kane asked, curious.