Fire & Desire (Hero Series) (20 page)

“It’s little people like you, Wayne, who will never truly
understand politics. It’s all part of the game.”

“One day it will bite you in the end.”

Ignoring him, Manning got into his car and slammed the door,
revving his engine. He backed out of his parking spot with squealing tires
against the painted garage floor and pulled off.

Trevor quickly got into his car and cranked his engine. “I don’t
know why you’d be in a hurry to meet someone on the North West side of D.C.,
but I’m about to find out.” Trevor reversed his vehicle, shifted into drive and
guided his car toward the exit ramp.

Twenty

Trevor reached the exit of the garage, perplexed with indecision
about which direction to go until he spotted Christopher’s vintage Corvette
headed up the road where the street numbers became larger.

“You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that, Manning.” It was dusk out,
and soon it would be dark. Not many D.C. natives were brave enough to head to
the North West side after the streetlights came on. People who lived and worked
in the area were the exception to the rule.

Trevor continued his clandestine pursuit, keeping a block’s
distance, so as not to tip off Manning. He followed him up and down streets
tagged by alphabets and numbers, until Manning turned into the parking lot of a
pool hall located on 14th and K.

“Who do you possibly know in this district? Why are you here,
Manning?” Trevor mumbled.

Trevor traveled up the street, slowing his car, staring into his
rearview mirror, making sure Manning entered the building. He was surprised to
see Manning without his jacket and tie.

Manning was no fool. His Bill Blasé suit would have stuck out like
a sore thumb. On a brother in this neighborhood; it shouted money.

Once Manning was inside, Trevor backtracked and parked two stores
away. He secured his car and checked around him. It wasn’t dark yet but getting
close. Jeans and a button-down shirt helped him to blend in better than
Manning’s apparel. Rolling his shoulders back, his gait was brisk but
confident. He only hoped whatever business Manning conducted wouldn’t be long enough
to get the cars stolen before they left.

A few pedestrians hustled by him to their destinations, not
pausing as they passed him.

He walked past a vintage record store before reaching the door
where Manning had entered.

Eight Ball was the name of the establishment etched on the glass
window. He strolled by with nonchalance. On the side of the building he
searched for a side door or an employee’s back entrance. He’d prefer not to be
spotted by Manning or whomever he was meeting.

Trying a side door and finding it locked, Trevor moved on toward
the back alley.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing calling me at work?”

The sound of Manning speaking in a grated voice stopped Trevor
inches away from the back corner of the pool hall. Taking a risk, Trevor
flushed his back against the rough brick wall.

A dumpster sat right at the back corner of the building, a barrier
between him and the mystery meeting. Slipping his hand into the back pocket of
his jeans, he pulled out his flip-top cell phone.

Opening it, he placed the ringer on silence, and then switched it
to camera mode. Easing it around the corner, Trevor prayed the black cased
phone wouldn’t be spotted in the dark.

“You’re not the only one taking a chance,” the other man pointed
out.

“It’s a greater threat for me,” Manning barked.

Trevor held the phone out just far enough to see who was around
the corner. At first, when Trevor looked into the mini screen he could only see
the back of Manning as he stood in the shadows beside the backdoor, until a
short stocky man stepped closer to him directly underneath the overhead lamp.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who will go to jail.”

Who is he?
Trevor wondered.

“Tough,” Manning said impatiently, crossing his arms over his
chest. “I don’t have all night. What’s your news?”

Selecting the button on his phone, Trevor turned off the flash and
selected the capture choice. Pulling it close to him, he closed it and returned
the cell phone to his pocket. Not wanting to chance either man seeing it.

“Did you hear something?” The short man sounded nervous.

“Yeah, your time running out,” Manning whispered.

Trevor strained to hear, doing his best to decipher the men’s low
tones.

“Something’s going down.”

Trevor could almost feel the anxiety of the short man.

“Like…what?” Manning asked, sounding broken and rough, as if he
were speaking through gritted teeth.

“I was at the mansion working on Sunday, and Miss Selina and
Trevor came over.”

“Tiffany always has Sunday dinner with her father.”

Manning had planted a spy. The mystery man worked at the mansion?
Trevor ran a few faces
through his mind, trying to place him, but came up blank. He was glad he’d
taken the picture and hoped it came out clear enough for the governor and
Wallace to recognize the man.

He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

The shorter man must not have gotten a reaction from Manning
because he emphasized the next word. “Together. Embracing.”

“Is that what you brought me here for?” Manning sighed more than
said.

He knew. Somehow Manning found out about Tiffany and me. Either
the word had already gotten out, or Manning was working with the reporter as
Tiffany suspected.

Straining his ears to hear more, Trevor listened.

The short man remained silent for a moment longer. Trevor figured
the short man had realized the same thing he now understood.

“No. They had a meeting in his office. I stood outside the window,
trying to see, but that damn mountain blocked my view.”

Trevor laughed silently, thankful to the “mountain.”

“So you have nothing for me?” Disappointment laced Manning’s
words. “I’m out of here.”

Loose gravel crunched under shoe soles headed in his direction.
Glancing around at the few cars in the side parking lot, Trevor had nowhere to
hide quickly without someone seeing him. His body braced with expectation of
meeting Manning. Prepared to back away, he froze when he heard Manning’s next
words.

“Don’t touch me,” Manning snapped.

The short man must have grabbed Manning.

Surprised, Trevor had never heard Manning speak without using his
self-assured politician voice. Like Tiffany, he was learning more and more
about his fellow alum every day.

“Some guy named The Weasel had a package delivered. By the look on
Wallace’s face, it wasn’t a ‘Thinking of You’ card.”

“Are you sure?” For the first time that night, Manning didn’t
sound so confident.

“Yes.” Excitement permeated the short man’s tone.
“Earl…Andy…Eric.”

Trevor heard a slapping sound, like flesh against flesh. He
figured the short man palming his forehead trying to remember.

“Eddie. Damn it. That bastard’s burning both ends.”

Trevor’s mind began to race
. Had Eddie tried to extort money
from Manning as well, or was he taking Manning’s money for the info, then
reselling it?
Trevor continued to listen.

“You know him?”

“Every government official worth their salt knows of him.” There
was a small pause, then Manning finished. “You leave him to me.”

“Whatever you say. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I need you to lay low for a while. People are on to
you.” Manning directed.

“And
you
lead to
me
…we can’t have that. It’s time
for you to find a new place of employment.”

“No problem. I had a few days off anyway. I won’t even be missed.
It’s perfect timing.”

“Great. Don’t call me. I’ll contact you.”

“You sure you don’t need my assistance?”

“No. I know just how to muzzle this dog.”

At that moment, the side door opened and a gaunt older man came
out stumbling and singing to himself. Trevor made a quick pivot, grabbed the
side door, slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.

Twenty-one

“So do I get an exclusive scoop or what?” Liza Wilkerson asked
eagerly, phone pressed firmly to her ear. She was the editor for the society
and entertainment section of the
D.C.

Chronicle
.

“Who am I speaking with?” Tiffany bluffed, hoping she could buy
herself some time or think of a quick idea to put the editor off.

“It’s me, Tiffany darling. Liza Wilkerson.” Liza’s country
drawled, syrupy sweet, singsong voice came clearly through the receiver.

“I’m not quite sure I know what you’re talking about, Ms.
Wilkerson.” Tiffany sat down on the corner of her desk. She had been on her way
to Josephine’s office to go over some of the end of the quarter stats when she
answered the phone.

“Don’t you Ms. Wilkerson me, Tiffany dear. I’ve known you since
your fifth birthday and your father was running for Congress.”

Only if known was another word for track and report.
“Liza, what can I do for
you?”

“Like I was saying, Tiffany. I want the scoop. Who is the gorgeous
guy you have been seen around with over the last couple of weeks?”

Tiffany could almost hear her panting with excitement on the
phone.

“Tiff, are we still—” Josephine came walking into her office.

A single raised finger stopped her friend’s words.

Josephine lifted an apologetic hand to her mouth, silencing
herself.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Tiffany waved Josephine forward.

Her friend sat in the chair next to where Tiffany was propped
against her desk.

“Tiffany,
please
. Don’t think I’m going to believe that for
one moment.”

“Liza—” Tiffany started.

“Darling…” Liza went on as if Tiffany hadn’t spoken. “I’m saying
linked arm in arm.”

At least she and Trevor knew that their plan to become more public
with the relationship was working.

Tiffany sighed. Liza Wilkerson was at the top of the game of
society gossip. She should have known if Liza was calling personally, then she
had a reliable source. Or more than likely the story was big enough since she
wanted her hands in it. Tiffany decided it was best to be honest, especially
since her father was planning a press conference some time soon. Having Liza on
their side would do wonders to counteract anything The Weasel divulged. “Liza,
I’m going to trust you…” Tiffany allowed the weight of her words to saturate
the atmosphere, “…and tell you that there is a relationship between myself and
this man. But I won’t go into any further details.

If you trust me and not print or reveal anything, then within the
week you will have all you need for your article.”

“Most reporters wouldn’t be able to say this, but I believe from
my years of being in this business I have earned a lot of people’s confidence.
We have a deal. Your news within the week for my silence.”

“Thanks, Liza.” A weight rose off her shoulders.

“Can I get an exclusive.”

Tiffany laughed. Liza hadn’t made it as head of her division for
nothing. “I’m not crazy enough to promise you that.”

Chuckling along with her, Liza finished by saying, “A journalist
has to try.”

“Yes, she does.”

After farewells, both women hung up.

With a hard and long burst, Tiffany exhaled air from her lungs.

“That bad, huh,” Josephine said from her quiet position in the
chair.

Tiffany looked at her and smiled. “Honestly, I will be glad when
it’s over, Jo.”

“When is the press conference?” Cross-legged, Josephine continued
to lean back in the chair, the picture of relaxation.

Placing her hands flat against the desk, Tiffany slid herself
across the desk until the back of her knees bumped the edge. “Dad is supposed
to let us know.”

“I’ve said it a million times before, Tiff, but I will never envy
your position. Living in the limelight…” Josephine shook her head.

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone either.”

They shared a grin of understanding.

“How are you and Trevor?” Josephine wiggled her eyebrows at her.

An instant chortle bubbled out of Tiffany’s mouth. “A lot better
than you and Ruben since I haven’t heard any wedding plans.”

Josephine dropped her head in the palm of one of her hands and
groaned. “I know. I know.” She raised her head; a wisp of a smile graced her
mouth. “Things are going well and we’ve had the discussion, but I’m dragging my
feet for the time being.”

“Why?”

“Because the business is doing great. Now that you’re able to come
on board practically full time, I’m moving toward being agreeable to the
offer.”

“Jo, I’m sorry. I know everything for this company has leaned
heavily on your shoulders in the past. If I haven’t said it enough, thank you.”

“You would have done it, too, if the situation were reversed.”

Tiffany had never felt more blessed for their friendship than she
did at that moment.

“You know, Jo, Trevor and I were planning a real wedding before this
entire Weasel stuff started. Now we’re just going to have to come out with the
marriage. But I want you to know, I was going to ask you to be my maid of
honor.”

Jo stood with one hand on her hip and the other wagging a finger
at Tiffany, her gestures full of faux indignation. “Of course you were going to
ask me. Who else could take that honored position? I’ve been your best friend
since kindergarten, and if you think for one moment you’re getting away with
not having me by your side because some slimy good for nothing reporter is out
to make some cash…” Jo paused, folding her arms and rolling her eyes at
Tiffany, “…you better think again, sister.”

Holding up both of her hands to ward off chastisement, Tiffany
laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks. “Okay, okay…I get it.” Placing a
hand on her chest, Tiffany released a calming breath. “So what am I supposed to
do to make it up?”

Smiling, Josephine folded her arms across her chest. “Well,
allowing me to throw you and Trevor a wedding party is one way. Of course, I’ll
give the toast so there is no doubt about my position at the function.”

“You got it.” Tiffany launched herself off the table and hugged
her best friend.

~ML~

“Hi, honey,” Tiffany propped her cell phone between her ear and
shoulder as she continued to pack up her briefcase. Excited to hear Trevor’s
voice, her heart raced and her knees turned to jelly with thoughts of the
evening to come. “How is your day going?”

“I’m on my way. How long until you finish up at work?”

“I’m getting my things together now. Want to meet at my place or
yours?” Tiffany zipped up her brown, three-compartment leather Samsonite case
and held it beside her leg. She was ready.

“You’re closer to home at your office. We’ll meet at your place.”

Tiffany heard the distinct sound of cars and horns blaring in the
background. Even at this time of night, people were rushing to get somewhere.

“Sounds great. Are you hungry?”

Trevor’s groan came loud and clear through the phone. “You bet I
am.”

Tiffany snickered, and then said seductively, “Well, I’ll see if I
can find something to satisfy you.”

“Baby, don’t do this to me. I’m sure it’s hazardous to drive in my
condition.” Trevor blew out air slowly, as if attempting to calm himself.

Loving the affect she had on him, Tiffany smiled secretly. “I want
you to get to me safely, so I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

The sound of those words always made her heart stop for a moment,
sent warm tingling sensations racing down her arms and curled her toes.

“I love you, too.” Tiffany said softly.

The conversation ended and she cradled the receiver and proceeded
out the door. She took a page out of Jaunice’s book and went to the stairs
instead of using the elevator. She felt high and exuberant. At lunch, she had
gone to an international boutique and picked up another sexy nightgown to add
to her collection. The midnight blue creation was made of pure schappe silk.
The gentle frayed material had tickled her skin when she tried it on.
This
will start the night off just right
.

Leaving that boutique, Tiffany had darted down the street until
she located the next store.

There she’d picked up her main outfit of the night…something that
would remind Trevor of how they’d met.

A coy smile played across her lips as she anticipated Trevor’s
reaction when he saw her in it.

Giddy, she removed her cell phone from her purse, called a local
restaurant that was on the way to her house and placed an order for pick-up.

~ML~

“Honey, I’m home.”

Tiffany heard Trevor call out from the front of the house; her
heart rate accelerated, and her cheeks pulled her lips into an excited grin.
My
husband is home.
Mentally or verbally, the word husband sent a frisson of
heat racing across her spine.

“I’m in the kitchen, babe.” Tiffany finished pulling the food from
the carryout bag, then turned to the cabinet to get plates to serve it on.

“Sweetheart, I need to talk—”

She knew the instant Trevor walked into the kitchen, from his
audible intake of breath.

“Tif-fany…” her name came out on a breathless whisper of
adoration.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tiffany’s body began to tremble at the
intense look Trevor was giving her bare skin. The floor length peignoir was
sleeveless and conservative in the front to the point of lying against her
collarbone. But the back was an entirely different matter. It opened, revealing
the full length of her spine, stopping underneath her love dimples at the base.

“Do you like what you see, Mr. Wayne?” Tiffany began to turn
toward him.

“Don’t move.”

Heavy, sexy and smooth as French silk, Trevor’s voice trailed over
her skin as if he’d touched her. Tiffany found it hard to fill her lungs with
oxygen. Her chest rose and fell with each laborious breath. She watched Trevor
saunter closer to her in a slow and purposeful stride.

The dishes made a clatter, as they slipped from her hands to the
countertop in front of her. Tiffany didn’t even consider whether they had
become damaged or not. Her focus was on Trevor. Trevor alone.

She watched his pace, anxiously considering how many steps before
she would feel his hands on her skin.

Four steps away. Her sex became full between her legs, pulsing and
responding as if stroked there. She squeezed her thighs to stifle its yearning.

A noise came from Trevor, as if he were conscious of her action
and the cause, the sound was substantial, guttural and deep, the force of it
resonated around the kitchen as if pushed through clenched teeth. She bit her
lip to keep from crying out in response. Two steps from her.

A cloak, the heat of his body draped around her, causing her knees
to become weak. She leaned forward against the marble, placed both palms flat
on its cold top and took a breath. A cleansing breath to regain control of her
senses, but Trevor was there, standing behind her. His nearness caused her
lungs to seize the air when his lips captured the curve of her neck in a kiss.

Her legs wobbled. She would have crumbled to the tile floor if
Trevor’s arms weren’t wrapped around her stomach, pulling her backwards,
aligning her with the front of his body.

Evident in the hard strength of his manhood pressed firmly against
her hips, no illusions.

“This better be your idea of a seduction…”

“How you would react to this gown has been on my mind all
afternoon.” Tiffany could smell the musk scent of Trevor’s cologne, combined
with the ethnic seasonings of the Thai food lying on the island, her mouth
watered, not for cuisine, but for the nourishment of the only thing in the room
that could satisfy her. Trevor.

He ground his pelvis into her cheeks, causing the gown to rub her
naked skin underneath, tingling and tantalizing it.

“This is what this stunt is getting you…”

Tiffany reached back, palming his jean clad rear-end, holding him
in place. “Good, because it’s what I want…” She licked her lips as titillation
through expectation of what was to come stitched in and out of her words.

Mouth to skin, Trevor adorned her back with hot open mouth kisses
until he reached the material where it lay on her bottom. The hand on the front
of her body moved up, capturing her breasts and kneading them. He kissed each
silk covered cheek, before he retraced his path with his wet tongue, swirling
patterns along her spine. When he slid up the back of her neck and detoured to
trail over her shoulder, she was in full pant. Her hands squeezed the forearm
of the hand toying with her pebbled nipples through her gown, silently begging.
Praying he got the message, she had to have him now; she was on the verge of
losing her mind. Searching behind her, she fumbled around in an attempt to
locate and undo his pants.