Concrete Evidence (28 page)

“I’ll do it,” Lee said. “But when the campaign ends, I’m gone.”

Joe grinned and relaxed back in the booth seat. “Deal.”

Christ, what had he just agreed to? Now it would be
his
employees who were stealing from Iraq. Firing those involved would be easy enough, but finding replacements to finish the contract while making Joe look good to the voting public would be a nightmare.

By taking this job, he ensured he’d be as thoroughly scrutinized as JT by the press. Everything he did would reflect on Joe and could become a campaign issue. And even if he could persuade Erica to forgive him, her murky past would be a liability.

Not that it mattered. Odds were they wouldn’t be on speaking terms come Monday.

Their meal was winding down when the woman who dominated his fantasies entered the restaurant and walked with purpose toward him. He sprang from the booth seat.
What the hell is she doing here?

Erica reached his side. “Lee, I’m sorry to barge in like this—”

He cut off her words with a fierce kiss. When he pulled back, her eyes held confusion and a smoky passion. He felt a jolt of male satisfaction followed by a stab of guilt. The kiss was the only way to silence her before she said something he didn’t want Joe to hear.

Her gaze cleared, and her face slowly turned red.

He was a dead man.

Joe slid out of the booth, and gave Erica a warm, expectant, even indulgent smile.

Lee draped an arm around her shoulders. “Joe, meet my girlfriend, Erica Kesling.”

If he could get through the next minutes without her calling him on this lie and mentioning he was her intern, or Joe revealing Lee had been his stepson, it would be a miracle.

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M
ORTIFICATION, ANGER, LUST
, and confusion all jockeyed for position in Erica’s racing mind. Lee’s kiss had been intense, hard, arousing, and so very
public
. And why the hell had he called her his girlfriend? Worse, why did she get a little giddy thrill from the title?
Get a grip, girl. There are so many more important things going on.

He smiled in a way that begged her to play along and kissed her temple. Hell. She didn’t have a choice. She’d come here to meet Joseph Talon and wasn’t going to blow her chance by pointing out the man who made the meeting possible was a skilled liar.

She felt the senator’s assessing gaze as he invited her to sit. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I was hoping to catch JT.” She glanced around the room, wondering where the senator’s son was.

“JT is on his way back to New York,” Senator Talon said.

She hesitated. JT wasn’t here?
Damn
. She’d planned to ask JT for a DNA sample. She smiled tentatively at the senator. Without JT, the senator was her only hope.

Lee nudged her toward the bench, and she slid into the seat. He sat next to her and again draped his arm around her. “Why are you looking for JT?”

His ardent gaze caused her belly to flip. If she didn’t know better, she could believe she was the center of his universe. The idea filled her with longing, which she ruthlessly brushed aside. She was weak and a fool.

She sucked in a shallow breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment to get her bearings and remember her objective. She’d wanted to meet Joseph Talon to decide if she should tell him about the stolen Aztec artifacts, but first she needed to justify her intrusion. She reached into her bag and pulled out the kit she’d picked up from a pharmacy yesterday. “I need to ask JT if he’ll give me a DNA sample for comparison to the bones from the Thermo-Con basement. Today is my last day to get a sample. I’d hoped to catch him before he left for New York.”

She’d intended to ask JT yesterday, but he hadn’t returned to the Watergate last night until after she was asleep. Then this morning, they watched the news, and she decided to use this as her excuse to crash their lunch with the senator so she could meet the man. But JT wasn’t here.

Joseph Talon straightened in his seat across from her. “Thermo-Con? Wait a minute. You’re the woman Sam told me about who was trapped in the basement a few days ago.”

She nodded.

“I can’t begin to say how sorry I am about what happened. You’re feeling fine now?”

“Yes.” She glanced at the man by her side. “Lee saved me.”

The senator looked at Lee curiously. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Lee shrugged, then picked up the DNA collection kit. “You could give Erica a sample.”

She wanted to kiss him for making the suggestion. She looked eagerly at the senator, but he was studying Lee. “I’m not sure if I should.”

Lee signaled to the waiter. The man hurried to the table and asked for her lunch order, but she declined. She wanted the freedom to bolt if the conversation didn’t go well.

She studied Joseph Talon and wondered what to do. He was handsome, possibly even more so than JT, who bore a strong resemblance to his father. His dusky complexion showed minimal lines to give away his sixty-plus years of age. He had a full head of dark hair with only a smattering of gray at the temples, which lent him the perfect weight of authority. His hair and facial features weren’t so much definable as Indian as they could be described as “ethnic.” If he were an actor, he would be offered roles to play the Indian, the Latino, or even the East Indian.

She wanted to know what made this man tick. How would he react if she told him the truth? Sam Riversong was his friend.

She decided to let the DNA test drop for now and gathered her courage to steer the conversation toward the real reason she’d wanted to meet the senator. “According to the news, you’ll be making your announcement at the casino.”

“Yes. I will.”

Lee’s hand dropped to her knee. The senator couldn’t see his warm touch, but she was aware of him as if each individual nerve ending were sending a separate message to her brain.

“You aren’t concerned the casino backdrop will hinder your campaign?” she asked.

“Every major news organization will be there. I can’t pass up the opportunity for free publicity for the casino.”

“But won’t the fact that you’re in a casino turn off some voters?”

“I owe the tribe everything I have, everything I am. I’m not going to shy away from what my people need for fear of losing a few votes.”

She’d always admired him for his forthrightness. He exhibited an integrity that was hard to find in politicians, and she wondered if he was genuine. “What if it’s more than a few?”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. When I was thirteen, my boarding school burned down, and I ran away from the social worker who was determined to place all the kids who’d been dumped in that school in juvenile hall, as if we were criminals just because we were Indian. I showed up in the town outside what was then Fort Belmont—the only place where a few dozen Menanichoch tribal members still lived. There I met and was taken in by Sam Riversong.”

Erica had seen photos of him, taken right after the fire. He’d been so young, so sweet-looking, and his eyes had been filled with sadness and loss. She knew something about isolation and loss at the age of thirteen but still couldn’t begin to imagine Joseph Talon’s journey.

“I lived with Sam for five years, worked at the local diner, and went to school,” he continued. “I learned about my heritage as Menanichoch—something that had been forbidden at the boarding school. The tribe claimed me. When I was accepted at the university, the community pooled their money and paid my tuition.” His expressive face conveyed his every emotion, as though he were reliving his transformation as he told the story. Sitting across from him in a crowded DC restaurant, she realized that, if anything, televised news clips didn’t convey half of this man’s true charisma.

“I look at my accomplishments and see my tribe holding me up, giving me the support that made me who I am. In return, I do everything I can for them. I worked my ass off for federal recognition. After we got that, I worked to have the Fort Belmont land returned to the tribe and then raised money to build the casino. Now I do what I can to promote it. My candidacy may flounder, I may be out of the race in a month’s time, but by making my announcement at the casino, the tribe will benefit from my run for office.”

She made her decision. She would tell him and hope he would believe her and help her use the artifacts to convict Jake. She took a deep breath. “You can’t make your announcement in the Aztec room. If you do, your backdrop will be priceless stolen artifacts.”

As she said the words, a man in the booth on the other side of the wooden partition stood and made a show of trying to get the waiter’s attention. Strategically placed plants had obscured him, but now she saw the soulless brown eyes which had filled her nightmares for the last year, and cold, metallic fear spread through her body.

Marco Garcia had followed her to the restaurant.

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L
EE’S GRIP ON
E
RICA’S KNEE
tightened as shock and disbelief spread through him. She had just revealed her secret. Chief among his emotions was overwhelming relief. Erica wasn’t the crook he was looking for.

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

She shrank into her seat and transformed in a heartbeat. Her eyes filled with the fear that always lurked beneath her surface. Joe’s tone had been sharp, but her reaction was extreme.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I misspoke—or, overstated, really. I meant to say cultural art is a source of communal pride, and permanent exhibition in a foreign country can feel like theft of culture. Some people believe any artifact removed from its country of origin is stolen—even if the artifacts were legally acquired. Aztec art comes from Mexico. Wouldn’t it be wiser to make your announcement in the Pueblo or Cherokee room?”

Her answer was smooth. Joe might even buy it, but Lee didn’t.

“You aren’t the first person to wonder if I should make my announcement in a more ‘American’ setting, but I don’t need to wrap myself in an American flag.

“When the Birthers came after me last year, demanding proof I’m an American because I don’t have a birth certificate, I showed them the scars I got at my Indian boarding school when the headmaster tried to beat the Indian out of me. I’m a Native American and therefore more American than ninety-eight point five percent of this country. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove that, and I’ll stand with pride in front of the Aztec Room. The Menanichoch casino is classier than most, the architecture is superb, and the artifacts breathtaking. It’s the perfect backdrop for the launch of my multicultural campaign.”

“I still think you’re making a mistake.”

Joe smiled. “You’ll keep Lee on his toes, which is good. His last girlfriend was a twit.”

She glanced sideways at Lee, but her attempt at an amused smile was clouded by a wariness she couldn’t hide.

“Yes, well, twit is the last word I’d use to describe Erica,” he said, squeezing her thigh. Liar was the first word, followed by alluring, beautiful, and then secretive.

“After Sam told me what happened to you in the Thermo-Con house,” Joe said, “I’d planned to invite you to the ribbon cutting on Saturday—a small apology from both the tribe and the company. But this is perfect. You’ll be Lee’s date.”

She looked at Lee questioningly.

Now it was his turn to lie. “I was going to tell you about it tonight, Shortcake.”

“Thank you,” she said to Joe. “I’d love to go.”

“The party is black tie. Make my son buy you a dress.”

“JT?” she asked.

“He means the company,” Lee said quickly, catching Joe’s gaze. “As a representative of Talon & Drake, you need to shine. JT will authorize the purchase.”

Joe leaned back against the booth cushion. “You’re right, Lee. Given the changes that are happening in Bethesda and that she’s your date, her dress will be important…” His voice trailed off.
Thank God.
Still, Lee’s heart beat a rapid tempo.