Cold Light of Day (3 page)

Frazer
had
hijacked his evening and told him to enjoy himself. “Can I offer you ladies a ride?”

Angel’s furious expression immediately cleared though Sarah grabbed her arm and tried to hold her back.

“You sure can, handsome.” Angel shrugged off her sister’s grip and sashayed toward him. He almost swallowed his tongue when her coat gaped and he noticed where her hemline hit her thighs.
Holy cow
. The fact he hadn’t noticed earlier was astonishing because the woman had
legs
. It pissed him off. He was a trained observer and he’d been distracted. What else had he missed?

Angel slid into the limo and began searching for a bar. Sarah stood on the sidewalk staring at him with haunted eyes. Her chin lifted a notch and her throat rippled. Angel was a flirt but her sister was a different creature entirely.

“Coming?” he questioned.

Emotions raced behind her eyes and she looked like she wanted to bolt.

“Are you okay?” He took a step forward.

She pressed her lips together and nodded quickly. “Yes, thank you.” But her voice was small, all laughter gone. Not the same woman who’d teased him earlier. There was something fragile about her. Considering the cynical nature of his job, he was surprised it attracted him so much. He didn’t do fragile. He did tough and feisty. Women who gave him shit and knew the score. Women who didn’t get upset when he didn’t call them the next day, or ever. Sarah LeMay looked like the exact opposite of his usual type and he had no idea why she drew him so completely.

“Want to get in the car?”

Her eyelids closed for a moment and then blinked wide as if afraid to drop her guard. She moved toward him, bunching her skirt to climb in beside her sister.

“Where to?” he asked, getting in beside them.

“A club.” Angel looked frustrated by the lack of alcohol in the vehicle. Welcome to the Bureau.

“Home.” Sarah’s voice trembled. “I’m not feeling well.”

It would explain her rapid change in demeanor.

Angel eyed her sister narrowly. “Scar, I swear to God…”

“Scar?” Matt queried.

“Nickname.” Sarah said quickly. “Can you drop us at one-forty-five 19th Street, please?”

Matt gave the driver the address while he watched the interaction between the two sisters.

Something was squirrelly. Angel’s lips were pressed firmly together, index finger tapping impatiently on her exposed knee. Sarah stared fixedly out the window. The short hairs on the nape of his neck went taut.

None of his business.

Angel turned back to him and broke the tense silence. “So where are you going next, sailor?”

Sarah shot her a glare.

“Home.”

“And where is home?” She tossed her blonde locks over her left shoulder.

“Virginia.”

When he didn’t elaborate Angel went back to her impatient tapping.

If Sarah had been the one asking would he have answered differently? Maybe. Would he have offered to bring her home? Definitely maybe. The more he looked at her the prettier he realized she was. Darker brows, dark lashes, perfect lips. Gold streaks amongst mid-brown hair that was pinned messily to her nape. Angel was gorgeous—as was the ambassador’s wife—but neither of them had that…what the hell was it? Sweetness? Vulnerability? Smarts?

But the woman was practically vibrating in her seat. He resisted the need to reach out and squeeze her hand in reassurance.

They arrived at the women’s house in awkward silence. He got out and held the door. Angel stalked up the stone steps of her parents’ home in heels that could be used as lethal weapons. Killer heels, killer dress, killer face. All of which left him cold.

Sarah climbed out of the limo more slowly. “Th-thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you feel better soon.” Matt stared at her intently, wishing she’d meet his gaze, wanting to ask her out. She turned away and followed her sister up the steps.

Frustrated because cowardice was not something Matt usually tolerated in himself, he climbed back into the limo and the driver pulled away from the curb. He turned to look through the rear windshield. Sarah LeMay was standing on the top step staring after him as if she had regrets of her own.

Dammit.

S
carlett followed Angel
inside the LeMay family row house. The decor was all white walls and pale wood, stylish and appropriate for entertaining bigwigs, as well as being a warm and inviting family home. Scarlett had always felt welcome here. Now she felt like a fraud.

“You’re home early.” Angel’s mother, Valerie, came out of the lounge into the hall to greet them, kissing them both on the cheek. “I thought you were going to a club?”

“Scar wasn’t feeling good so we came home early.” Angel’s voice held an edge her mother thankfully missed. Her best friend was seriously pissed and Scarlett didn’t blame her.

Valerie put a cool hand on Scarlett’s brow. The woman was even shorter than she was. Concerned brown eyes raked her with affectionate concern. “You don’t feel hot but you look pale. You want to stay here tonight?”

“Thanks, Mrs. LeMay.” Scarlett always called her ‘Mrs. LeMay’ even though for years the woman had said to call her Valerie. “I should probably go home. I have work tomorrow.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Those brown eyes widened.

Scarlett nodded. “It’s a good time to be in the lab. Quiet. Mom’s gone for the week to visit Dad…” Silence pressed down like a felled tree.
Crap.

“You’re coming for Christmas dinner, right?” Valerie asked.

Scarlett shook her head. “I have an experiment—”

“Nonsense. You’re coming here. I won’t hear another word about it.” Valerie nodded decisively and that was that.

“Okay, thanks,” Scarlett finished lamely. Assuming she hadn’t been arrested and stuffed in jail…

“Oh, dear.” Valerie reached up to touch her right ear. “You lost an earring.”

Scarlett froze as her hand shot up to check. Please don’t let it have fallen when she was in Dorokhov’s office. Chances were slim. It could have fallen off in the reception room or the bathroom or in the limousine. She’d only been in the office for a couple of minutes, tops.

It was easy to tell yourself not to worry but harder to actually make yourself do it.

“I’ll leave you guys to it. Your father and I are watching
It’s A Wonderful Life
,” Valerie said. “We’re at my favorite part where they fall in the pool.”

Angel shook her head. “I don’t know how you stand the excitement, Mom.”

“That’s why you have to enjoy yourself when you’re young because when you’re older you’ll just want to stay in and watch old movies with your crusty, old hubby.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and walked into the family room, closing the door behind her.

“You’re about as exciting as my mother, you know that?” Angel muttered. “Except when she was our age she knew how to party. By the time you hit fifty, we may as well bury you.”

Scarlett flinched and crossed her arms. Angel had a Ph.D. in bitchery, which she put to good use when she was mad. It was easier to ride out the storm than fight. Scarlett followed her friend up the stairs so she could get changed and leave. She needed to be alone.

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you,” Angel continued. “Two of the hottest guys I’ve seen in
forever
and you drag me away like we’re in mortal danger. Do you even like men?”

Scarlett sighed. “I like men just fine.”

“I mean the good looking ones, not the dweebs you date.” Angel stomped up to the top floor and flung open the door to her bedroom.

Maturity wasn’t her strong point. Loyalty was.

Under the circumstances Scarlett hadn’t had much choice except to leave the party—not that she could tell Angel her reasons. She couldn’t risk involving her in a potential scandal that might get seriously ugly considering who her father was. Angel would go ballistic if she found out the truth and Scarlett didn’t want to deal with it right now. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. She really hadn’t planned this out very well, too excited at the opportunity to plant a listening device to think about the repercussions if things went wrong.

She dropped the remaining earring on Angel’s dressing table. “Sorry I lost your earring.”

Angel grunted and threw off her heels.

Scarlett would replace the jewelry as soon as she could get to the store.

Angel wasn’t done. “How many years have I stood by you? Have I ever asked for anything in return?”

Constantly
.

“I’m twenty-five years old and I feel like I’m already trapped inside my boring life. We were supposed to
party
, remember? And that sailor—
oh, my God, Scarlett
, did you even notice the way he looked at you?”

“I spilled champagne down his shirt. He looked at me like I was an idiot.”

“He didn’t.” Angel shook her head. “He was scorching hot and he was into you. You didn’t even get his number. You’re such a pain in the ass.”

Scarlett shed her coat and walked through the adjoining door to Sarah’s room to hang it on the back of her door. Yes, she’d noticed how Matt Lazlo had looked at her. It was just another crappy part of another crappy day because she’d desperately wanted a man to look at her like that, and now it had happened…
Hasta la vista, baby.

In the long run she’d saved herself some major heartache. That wasn’t fatalism; it was fourteen long years of experiencing what happened when people found out who her father was.

She found the zipper at the back of the dress and tugged it down, sliding off her heels along with the dress. Sarah was the opposite of her sister in many ways though she liked pretty clothes. She was an outdoor nut. Hiking, climbing, skiing. The only interest Angel had in the outdoors was whether or not she’d get her hair and make-up messed up if she got caught in the rain.

Scarlett wiped off the heavy make-up in the bathroom, then quickly changed back into jeans, black sweater and sneakers. She left her hair pinned at the back of her head, which she covered with a tweed, cloth cap. She grabbed her green, wool jacket off the bed, along with a long scarf, which she wrapped around her neck twice to combat the winter chill.

Angel lay on her bed in her underwear. The woman didn’t have a self-conscious bone in her body. She was looking at her phone and smiling.

“I have to go.” Scarlett stood awkwardly in the doorway.

Angel’s blue eyes cut to her. “You have to get over it, Scar, it’s past time. Your dad is in prison. Most people don’t even remember what he did—”

“He didn’t do it,” Scarlett snapped.

Angel lunged to her feet and grabbed Scarlett’s arm. Her fingers tightened in a painful grip. “He did it. He got six US intelligence officers killed and sold the United States out to the Russians. You have to accept it and you have to move on. You are not your father.”

Scarlett stared into the face of her best friend and said the words she’d been keeping locked down deep inside since her mother had told her last week. “He’s dying. Dad’s got cancer and he’s dying.”

Angel’s eyes widened and then closed before she pulled Scarlett into a fierce embrace. Scarlett crumpled and they both dropped to the bed. She wrapped her arms around her best friend and tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Angel stroked her back, up and down, a warm, calming touch. “Why do you never tell me anything until I yank it from you by being a complete and utter bitch?”

Scarlett wiped her wet cheeks. “You seem to enjoy yourself so…”

“Ha.” Angel let her go and Scarlett sat up.

She studied the thick, wool rug at her feet. “I couldn’t talk about it, it was just too raw.” She looked up. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to get Raminski’s phone number.”

Angel raised one brow. “What makes you think I didn’t get his number?” Her friend’s grin was sly and wicked.

Scarlett opened her mouth. “You acted like you were Cinderella dragged from the ball, only you forgot to drop the shoe.”

“No way would I leave behind a shoe.” Angel’s shoes cost more than Scarlett’s car. “But more to the point, I also got the sailor’s number.” Her blue eyes were assessing. “Do you want it?”

Was Angel bluffing? She had to be bluffing.

Scarlett remembered the way he’d looked at her before she got in the limo. Like he cared, which was crazy because he didn’t know her, and if he did he’d run a mile. No one wanted to know her when they figured out who she was, and that would go double for an American war hero.

She swallowed to moisten her suddenly arid throat. “No, I don’t want it.” But the lie abraded her tongue.

*     *     *

Matt stretched out
in the back of the limo, eyes closed. He’d taken a quick detour to the White House to catch up with his buddy Jed Brennan who he hadn’t seen since the guy had been shot. Now Jed was off to sleep in some fancy DC hotel with a very lovely redhead. The guy was so obviously in love with the woman and her cute kid that Matt kind of felt choked. Jed was going to make a great dad, something every child should have, something Matt had missed out on. Still, it had made him a better man in the long run. The asshole who’d fathered him had hardly been a good role-model.