FIRE AND ICE (10 page)

Alec shook his head. “It’s the same kind Gil found in Sophie’s apartment,” he told Jack. To Bitterman, he said, “Nothing we would use.”

Bitterman realized he was still clutching the rolled-up news paper. He tossed it into the trash can. “You’re certain?”

“One hundred percent.”

“It looks like something you could buy over the Internet,” Jack remarked. “Amateur stuff.”

“Hold on a minute. Someone bugged your apartment, Sophie?” Now Bitterman was outraged on her behalf.

“It’s all right,” she said to calm him. “I’m used to it. I don’t want you to worry about this.”

“You’re used to having your privacy invaded?” Jack asked.

Exasperated, she said, “Again, Agent MacAlister. My father … Bobby Rose … ?”

The way she drew her father’s name out made Jack want to laugh. If she were a man, he’d probably call her a smart-ass, but she wasn’t a man. She was an outrageously sexy woman. With spunk. Ah, man, he should get away from her as soon as possible. He should have waited outside in the car. But he’d been curious. First impressions were often wrong, and he wanted to find out if she was as provocative as he’d remembered.

She was. Definitely.

His voice was abrupt when he said, “Show me where you work.”

Sophie assumed that Jack was going to sweep her cubicle, and as she was walking toward the door, she asked Alec to please call Gil and let him know she didn’t need him to come to her office.

“All right,” he agreed. “And while I’m doing that, I want you to pack up whatever you’ll need from your office for the next week or two. You’re going to be working from home. You know the drill.”

“I am not going to stay home.”

“Yeah, you are,” Jack told her. He gave her a gentle push to get her moving.

His abruptness bordered on rudeness. Sophie thought about telling him to stay out of the discussion, but because he was Alec’s new partner, she kept silent. There was also the possibility that he might not take criticism well and decide to take her in for one of those lovely interviews.

Alec wouldn’t let him do that, but even so, why cause friction?

Bitterman stopped any further protests. “You have two articles to research, and you can do that from home. You’ve got a computer there and an Internet connection. You don’t need anything else.”

Sophie wished she could get Alec alone and ask him why he was wasting his time over a couple of heat-of-the-moment threats. He wasn’t a rookie, so why was he given this assignment?

Or had he even been given this assignment?

“Mr. Bitterman, did you call the FBI, or did you call Alec?”

“Alec is FBI,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but—”

“I did some snooping,” her boss admitted sheepishly. “I looked through your address book and found his number.”

“Get moving, Sophie,” Alec said.

“Yes, all right. In a second. Was there more than one threat?” she asked her boss. “Whenever my father is in the news, there are always two or three threats at the very least. Agent MacAlister, if you push me one more time, I’m going to have to push you right back.”

She didn’t turn around when she made the threat. Jack grinned. Sophie was turning out to be far more stubborn than he’d been told. He decided he would leave it to Alec to get her to cooperate.

“Yes, there’s been more than one threat,” Bitterman said. “So far I’ve gotten three. The message was always the same. Your father took something of value from them, so they’re going to take something of value from him. Meaning you,” he added. He looked at Alec as he continued. “A couple of the callers used the same word: retribution. That was kind of odd, I thought. Real muffled voices, too, and all of them used the words ‘we’ and ‘them.’ That was odd, too, don’t you think?”

“Why would they call you?” Sophie asked.

“I guess the callers figured I’d make you give up your father.”

“Sounds like the threats came from the same men,” Alec remarked.

“A buddy at the phone company checked the source of the incoming calls,” Bitterman said. “They were made from public phones around town.”

“How long has there been a price on Bobby Rose’s head?” Jack asked.

Sophie whirled around. “What? There’s a price …”

“The attorneys at the press conference said they’d put up a reward for information leading to an arrest and conviction of your father.”

“Conviction for what?”

“Stealing Kelly’s company retirement fund?” Bitterman suggested.

“So he’s guilty until proven innocent? Is that how the system works?” Sophie blurted.

“Do you think the reward is why the office was bugged?” Bitter-man asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. “Think about it. This is a small neighborhood newspaper. How many enemies can you make writing articles about the pollen count? I know that sounds insulting, and I don’t mean it that way, sir. I’m just saying, you don’t tackle heavy political issues or—”

Bitterman waved his hand. “I get what you’re saying, and I’m not taking offense. We are a small paper.”

“But growing,” Sophie said defensively. “And some people want to read about the pollen count.”

“A lot of people know Bobby’s daughter works here,” Alec pointed out. “Maybe they’re thinking she’ll talk to him on the phone or talk about him to you, sir.”

“I want to find out exactly who’s listening in on my conversations,” Bitterman said. “There could be more of those things, couldn’t there?” he added, pointing to the bug Alec held in his hand. “And what about the phones? Do you think the phones are tapped? Damn it all, I want to know who’s behind this.”

“We’ll get some techs in here—” Jack began.

“No, no,” Bitterman interrupted. “I don’t want this to get out yet, not until we find out who the culprit is.”

Before Alec could point out the obvious, that bugging an office was an illegal activity, Sophie said, “What about Gil? He’s a retired
police officer, Mr. Bitterman, and he does consulting work now. His specialty is security and finding bugs. He’d be perfect for this job.”

“Sure, Gil could help,” Alec agreed. “You’ll have to pay him, but his fee is reasonable.”

“I’ll pay anything,” Bitterman said. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Don’t tell Gil I’ll pay anything. Could you get him on the phone now and ask him to get over here as soon as possible?”

“Come on, Sophie, let’s get going,” Jack said.

She led the way to her cubicle, then stood in the narrow corridor to wait while Jack searched for listening devices. He found one identical to the one in Bitterman’s office. It had also been attached next to the electrical plate.

Gary came out of the lunch room eating a jam-filled croissant. He spotted Sophie and scurried over to her.

“Why are you standing in the hall?”

He didn’t give her time to answer. He saw Jack sitting at her desk going through the drawers. “What’s that man doing?” he asked with a mouth full of food. He saw the gun holstered to Jack’s side. “Hey, he’s got a gun.”

“He’s FBI,” she said.

“He’s not dressed like FBI.”

Jack was wearing a pair of worn jeans and a faded burgundy T-shirt.

“It’s casual Friday,” she said with a straight face.

Gary went into his cubicle and continued to watch Jack. “Wait a minute. It’s Monday.”

“It’s casual Monday,” she said without missing a beat.

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s searching my office.”

“He better not try to search my cubicle. My space is private, and no one is coming in here without a search warrant,” he blustered. “You’re supposed to be a reporter, Sophie. You should feel the same way I do. If I were you, I’d tell him to go—”

Jack suddenly stood, towering over Gary. His gaze was piercing. “What would you tell me?”

Gary shrunk before her eyes. He backed into the corner of his cubicle as he said, “Nothing. I didn’t mean … never mind.”

Jack stepped into the corridor so Sophie could get to her desk. It only took her a few minutes to transfer several files by e-mail to her home computer. She turned off her computer and stuffed two fat folders into her tote bag along with a book and a stack of papers she needed to go through. She pulled her purse from the bottom desk drawer, picked up her cell phone and charger, then looked around to make certain she had everything she needed.

Gary’s curiosity overrode his fear of Jack. “Are you under arrest?” he asked Sophie. “What did you do? Did you help your father? That’s it, isn’t it? Is it Kelly’s? Did you help your father rip off the retirement fund?”

Sophie was used to Gary’s stupidity, but she couldn’t resist feeding his frenzy.

“I’m ready, Agent. Are you going to put the handcuffs on me now or when we’re in the elevator?”

“In the elevator,” he answered without hesitation. “Just don’t try anything funny.”

She kept her head down, pretending shame. Jack motioned to Alec as he followed her to the elevator.

The farther away Jack got, the bolder Gary became. “She knows where her father is,” he shouted. “She just won’t tell. That’s why you’re taking her in, isn’t it?”

“He’s got it all figured out, doesn’t he?” Jack shook his head as he lowered his voice. “How can you stomach working with him?”

“I don’t have a choice,” she answered. “Hopefully, someone will quit, and I can move away from him.”

“He’s a reporter?”

“He thinks he is. But he’s not very observant. He didn’t even notice you weren’t carrying handcuffs. How come you aren’t?”

“It’s casual Monday. No ties. No cuffs. Do you want me to carry that?” he asked, reaching for her tote bag. It looked heavy.

The elevator doors opened just as Alec joined them. All three stepped inside.

“All right.” Sophie handed him the bag. “But be careful with it. It’s Louis Vuitton.”

“Can Lou breathe in there?”

She smiled. “It’s Louis, not Lou.”

“Expensive, huh?”

“Yes, very expensive. It was a gift, and I’m trying not to get any scratches on it.”

“A gift from your father?”

The smile vanished. “No,” she answered abruptly.

She was glad he had asked the annoying question. She was starting to like him, and she was certainly attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? The man was sexy as hell. But fortunately his nosy question reminded her that he was FBI.

She stood between the two men facing the doors. She felt awkward and uncomfortable. If Jack hadn’t been there, she would have been fine. She loved Alec because he loved Regan, and Sophie felt safe and relaxed around him. Alec didn’t judge; Jack apparently did.

“Why don’t you ride with Sophie, and I’ll follow in my car?” Jack suggested.

She didn’t look at him when she answered, “I don’t own a car.”

“Really? Huh. I figured you for a BMW or a Mercedes. Guess I was wrong.”

“Really. Huh. I figured you for an arrogant, judgmental jerk.” She didn’t add, “Guess I was wrong.”

She glanced at him to see how he was reacting to her comment and was taken aback when she saw the laughter in his eyes.

They reached the bottom floor. Jack had parked his car in the garage below the warehouse. When the elevator doors parted, he held his hand up to stop her. He checked to see that the coast was
clear before he let her step out. There were no reporters lurking, waiting to ambush her. She thought Bitterman had overreacted when he’d said microphones would be thrust in her face. She climbed into the backseat of Jack’s car. They drove down the ramp, and as Jack was waiting to make a left turn onto the street, a swarm of reporters suddenly appeared. They crowded both sides of the car, but they seemed to be as interested in Jack and Alec as they were in her, even calling them by name.

“How do those reporters know you two?” she asked.

“They don’t actually know us,” Alec hedged.

“They’re shouting your names and taking your photos.”

“She hasn’t seen it?” Jack asked.

“Apparently not. Talk to Regan or Cordie,” Alec told her. “They’ll be happy to explain.”

“Explain what? Alec, what are you talking about?”

He didn’t answer. A cameraman pounded his fist on the hood of the car to get Jack’s attention. He was obviously going for the deer-in-the-headlight shot. Jack didn’t oblige.

“What can I tell you? It must be a slow week.”

“FBI agents don’t give interviews,” she said. “And those reporters know that. Why are they hounding you two?”

“Not now, Sophie. When you get home, call my wife.”

She decided not to wait. She pulled out her cell phone and sent a text to Regan and Cordie.

“How much do you think I’ll get if I run over a couple of them?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. I’d give you ten, twenty bucks,” Alec answered.

Jack laughed. “I meant years. How many years would I get?”

Traffic opened just as one reporter cleared the bumper, sliding toward Alec’s window. Jack drove away before the man could get a clear shot.

“I hate reporters,” Jack muttered. “Most of them don’t ever write the truth.”

“That isn’t so,” Sophie said.

He ignored her protest. “It’s all about sensationalism. Anything for a story.”

“I’m a reporter,” she reminded him.

“My point exactly,” Jack said.

“Agent MacAlister?”

“Yeah?”

“Bite me.”