Blank Slate (26 page)

They walked through the club into the back until they stopped in front of a closed door. After knocking, the head guy opened the door and they walked inside. The room was a spacious office, the kind you’d find in any high-rise downtown.

Before Erik could get a good look, he was spun around and searched. They found his wallet and Raven’s gun, which they took and gave to someone behind him.

“FBI Special Agent Erik Langston.”

Erik turned. “That’s me.”

“To what do we owe the honor of your presence?” The slightly mocking words were said by the man seated behind the desk. His gaze was shrewd as he observed Erik. Lean and long-limbed, he was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit.

“I have some important information for your boss.”

Liam’s smile was as cold as his eyes. “I am the boss, Mr. Langston. And you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to come here.”

Erik didn’t wait for an invitation and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I’m on a tight schedule,” he said, “so let’s cut the bullshit.”

Liam wasn’t smiling now, reminding Erik of the very dangerous gamble he was taking. Worst-case scenario, Liam wouldn’t have any knowledge of Solomon’s dealings with O’Connell. If that was the case, well, it wasn’t going to end well.

“I know your boss has a very important project going on,” Erik continued. “And I know he hired Clarissa O’Connell to do it. But she double-crossed him, took a lot of his money. And in two hours, she’ll give it to someone else.” He paused. “I can help you. She trusts me.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to know an awful lot, but yet are ignorant of a very important fact,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“Clarissa’s been captured by the FBI.”

Erik couldn’t hide his surprise.

Liam stood and rounded the desk to Erik. “Apparently your partner tracked her down. I do believe he thinks she murdered you.”

“He won’t hurt her,” Erik said, hoping it was true. Agents took it very personally when one of their own was involved. Kaminski wasn’t the best rule follower, which had been another reason he and Erik hadn’t clicked.

Liam laughed. “The question, Mr. Langston, isn’t whether he’ll hurt her, but whether she’ll hurt him.”

Clarissa fished the keys out of Kaminski’s pocket, finding the one for the cuffs and quickly unlocking them. He groaned when she grabbed his arm, cuffing it to the steering wheel.

The deflated airbags hung limply from the dash, and Clarissa was glad they’d deployed as they were supposed to. She wanted to escape, not kill him. It looked like he’d have only some scrapes and bruises as mementos of his encounter with her.

It wasn’t her fault. She’d tried to convince him she wasn’t working for Solomon anymore, but he’d refused to believe her. She’d had no choice but to escape. Sitting in jail wasn’t an option.

She went to grab Langston’s gun and phone back from Kaminski, when she found her wrist caught by Kaminski.

“Wait,” he said, forcing his eyes open. “Just…tell me where he is.”

“Langston?”

He nodded.

“I told you, I left him alive,” she said, jerking her arm free along with the gun and cell. “Though I don’t think he’ll take too well to you working with Clarke.”

“I’m not…working for Clarke,” he gritted out, his face creasing in pain as he sat up in the seat.

“Then how did you find us?” she asked.

“I followed Clarke to New Orleans, tracing his phone just like we traced Langston’s.”

Just then, said phone in Clarissa’s hand rang.

“So you’re not working for Clarke?” she asked Kaminski again.

He shook his head.

“Prove it.” She hit the button to take the call and put it on speaker.

“Kaminski,” he said, watching Clarissa.

“Kaminski, it’s Langston.”

“Shit,” Kaminski breathed, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Man, where the fuck are you?”

“Is O’Connell with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hurt her, okay? She didn’t do anything to me.”

“Yeah, don’t hurt me,” Clarissa mocked Kaminski in an undertone. He shot her a glare.

“You’re lucky she didn’t kill me with that stunt she just pulled.”

“What are you doing, Langston?” Clarissa asked. “Still cuffed to the bed?”

Kaminski’s eyebrows shot up, but she ignored him.

“I’m resourceful,” Langston said. “Learned from the best.”

Clarissa couldn’t help the thrill of pride and admiration she felt. He’d gotten loose. She’d known he would. “I thought I told you to sit this one out,” she said.

“I do what I’m told about as well as you do.”

“Where are you?”

A pause. “I’m with some…friends of Solomon.”

Clarissa’s heart stuttered, then she went from zero to furious bitch in 2.3 seconds. “Are you fucking kidding me, Langston?” she yelled. “What the hell did you do?”

“Ow,” he said. “Quit yelling, please.”

Clarissa fumed, wishing she could crawl through the phone just so she could make sure he was safe…and then kick his ass.

“I thought it best if Solomon knew Clarke was planning to double-cross him.”

“He’ll thank you for that information by killing you,” Clarissa retorted.

“Gotta go with the chick on this one, man,” Kaminski said.

“Did you just call me a
chick
, you prick?”

“Settle down, sweetheart,” he sneered. “Don’t get so emotional.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Clarissa warned Langston. “He’s a total dick and you can do better.”

“Knock it off, you two,” Langston said. “You can kill each other later. For now, I’ve struck a deal. Kaminski, you go with Clarissa and take down Clarke before she has to transfer any money.”

“What about you?” Clarissa asked, looking at the phone as though she could see him through it.

“I’m…collateral. To ensure you give the money back to Solomon.”

“Dammit, Langston! Why couldn’t you have just stayed put like I said?” All of this was going to hell, and while she couldn’t give a shit if Kaminski got caught in the crossfire, Solomon holding Langston hostage was a headache she didn’t need.

“I told you that I wasn’t going to let you do this alone. Nobody’s going to die tonight.”

She sincerely hoped he was right.

“Now where are you meeting Clarke?”

“Oak Alley,” Clarissa reluctantly answered. “Outside Vacherie.”

"Okay. I’ve gotta go,” Langston said. “Good luck, and Kaminski?”

“Yeah?”

Langston’s voice was low and earnest now. “Take care of her. Please.”

Kaminski shot her a look, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Will do.” He ended the call. “Looks like it’s you and me,” he said, then jangled the cuff still attached to the steering wheel. “Better unlock me.”

Clarissa moved to do just that. “I’m already regretting this,” she groused.

“Cheer up,” Kaminski said, rubbing his wrist. “I’m a better shot than Langston.”

“Like I give a shit,” Clarissa shot back. “I’m a good enough shot for both of us. Besides,” she leaned toward him, “he’s way hotter than you.”

That shut him up.

Erik handed the phone back to Liam. “I told you. She’ll do whatever I tell her to. She trusts me.”

“And you’re sure you can get her to transfer the money back to Solomon’s account?”

“If she thinks I’m in danger, she’ll do it.”

Liam smiled. “You
are
in danger, Mr. Langston. Don’t kid yourself about that.”

Erik didn’t smile back. “Don’t kid yourself into thinking that you’ll ever get that money back without me or her. Threaten all you want, but I know your boss wants that money. If he hadn’t reneged on the deal he made to free Danny and sent someone to kill her, he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.” Erik pointedly looked up at the camera hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the office. “Isn’t that right, Solomon?”

The phone on the desk rang, and Liam picked it up. He listened for a moment, his face paling slightly.

“Understood. Right away,” he said before hanging up the phone. “It looks like you may not be as smart as you think you are, Mr. Langston. Solomon would like to see you.” He leaned close to Erik. “Perhaps you don’t know this, but few have ever seen Solomon who then lived to tell the tale,” he hissed.

“Then I’ll make sure to shoot you on my way out,” Erik hissed back.

“Take him,” Liam barked.

Erik smiled, his gaze locked on Liam’s as the two guards grabbed him and hustled him out of the room.

“So,” Kaminski began. “You want to tell me what the hell’s been going on?”

They’d gone back to Langston’s SUV and now were heading out of town toward Vacherie. Kaminski had insisted on driving. Just like Langston, Clarissa thought. Maybe they had more in common than they thought.

“I don’t have to tell you squat,” she shot back. “Only that Langston hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s lucky to be alive after your guys nearly killed him.”

“Not our guys,” Kaminski said. “Clarke.”

“So how did you realize it was him?” Clarissa asked. “Langston wasn’t sure if you were in on it too.”

Kaminski’s jaw tightened. “Nice. Some partner he is.”

Clarissa shrugged. “Better to be alive and wrong than dead and right. He had no choice but to be suspicious.”

“Well, maybe if he’d given our partnership a chance, he’d know I’d never do that.”

Hmm. That was interesting. “So what happened between you and Langston?”

Kaminski glanced warily at her. “What did he say happened?”

Clarissa shrugged, feeling more than a little like she was mediating two middle schoolers fighting than two grown men. “He said you two disagreed over my importance to the case. That you had a falling out about it.”

Kaminski snorted. “That was just the straw, sweetheart—”

Clarissa flicked open a switchblade and quick as a flash, held it between his legs. “Call me sweetheart again and you’ll be singing soprano,” she threatened.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “All right, all right! Just, can you put the knife away? Please? How the hell did you get my knife?”

Certain he’d gotten her message, Clarissa flipped the knife closed and pocketed it. “You should be more aware of your surroundings. Now, you were saying?”

“Uh, yeah. The thing with you. He was fixated on you, to the exclusion of nearly everything else. His apartment is filled with boxes and boxes of research on you, anything he could dig up. He’d watch video footage of you nonstop.” Kaminski shook his head. “That’s not healthy, man.”

Clarissa stared at him, her hands like ice. Langston hadn’t said anything to her about this. Yes, he’d told her he’d been hunting her for nearly a year, but she hadn’t realized the extent of his obsession to find her.

“Was he…do you think he wanted to kill me?”

Kaminski glanced at her, then back at the road. When he spoke, he didn’t answer her question. “You know, Langston and me, I thought we’d get along fine. But nothing I did was good enough. And I got that he’d just lost his partner, that shit’s rough, but he just never let up.”

“Well, maybe you weren’t good enough,” Clarissa said stiffly.

“I’m a good agent,” Kaminski said evenly. “Sometimes a little too spontaneous, too go-with-my-gut, but that’s why Langston and I should’ve been a good team.”

“Because he’s such a by-the-book hard-ass?”

Kaminski grimaced. “You caught on to that, did you?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss,” Clarissa admitted. “Which was why it was so difficult to believe when he — ” She stopped.

“When he what?”

Clarissa sighed. “When he wanted to help me, said he’d protect me from Solomon.” Her chest hurt, and she absently rubbed her breastbone.

“Lady, no offense, but why in the hell would Langston help a criminal like you? He hates you. When I got in his face about removing himself from the case, giving it a rest, he damn near broke my jaw. Told me to mind my own fucking business and that we were through as partners.” He paused. “I’d find it easier to believe that he set you up to pull in the big fish — Clarke and Solomon. You’re just collateral damage at this point.”

Clarissa jerked her gaze to his. “You’re wrong,” she said. “He wouldn’t lie to me.” And yet, he’d already lied to her once about Danny.

“He’s a federal agent,” Kaminski said. “Why
wouldn’t
he lie to you?”

They blindfolded Erik before they took him from the room, which didn’t surprise him. Solomon was one of the most elusive figures in organized crime. If they didn’t kill Erik, they certainly wouldn’t want him to be able to find him again.

He was driven somewhere, but not that far away. It was a lot quieter when he got out of the car, the smell cleaner than the congested Bourbon Street area.

Erik was led inside a building, carpet thick under his feet. It was even quieter there. He’d guess it was a house, not a hotel. Not even in New Orleans could you get away with leading a person blindfolded through the lobby of a hotel.

“Sit,” one of the guards said, pushing him roughly backward into a chair. It was padded, the fabric thickly textured, with a straight back. Erik’s wrists were tied to the arms of the chair.

“Thank you, that’ll be all for now.”

The voice was different from the guards’, and Erik said nothing, listening intently as the guards’ footsteps left the room. A door shut quietly behind them.

“Special Agent Erik Langston, I believe?”

Erik swallowed. A part of him couldn’t believe this had worked. He was in the same room as Solomon, the man behind not only Peter’s death, but O’Connell’s blackmail too. He pulled slightly at his bonds. They held fast. He tried to temper his anger. A clear head was vital if he and O’Connell were going to survive.

“You must be the infamous Solomon,” Erik said. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m kind of tied up right now.”

“A necessary precaution, as I’m sure you’ll agree,” he said. “You’ve been quite persistent. I must say, it’s admirable. Any other agent would have given up by now. But not you. You’ve determinedly pursued Clarissa for months. Tell me, Mr. Langston. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep at night once you kill her?”

Erik stiffened. “I was never going to kill her. That might be your way, but not mine.”