Pandora's Box (3 page)

Tyler’s eyes located and followed Agent Madison Grey as she blazed an angry path from DeMarco to another agent—Tyler couldn’t remember his name—and borrowed the man’s cell phone.
 
She punched in a number and turned her back to
Tyler
as if she could feel him watching her and didn’t like it.
 
Too bad.

Madison Grey was an intriguing combination of guts, beauty, and brains.
 
Unfortunately she was on a growing list of suspects.
 
Today would have been the third attempt on his father’s life if
Tyler
hadn’t taken his place.
 
Instinct told him
Madison
had nothing to do with the situation, but he had to keep an open mind until she proved herself innocent.

“Mind telling me why you’re staring at Maddie like that?” Agent DeMarco asked as he settled beside
Tyler
next to his car, clipboard dangling from one hand.
 
He had to tilt his head back to look up at
Tyler
’s face.

“Like what?”
 

“Like a shark preparing for his evening meal.”

Tyler
barely glanced in DeMarco’s direction.
 
He had better things to look at.
 
His eyes returned to
Madison
as she punched another number into the cell.
 
With the view he had of her profile he could just make out the tightening muscles in her face.
 
She seemed worried or upset about something.

DeMarco demanded, “Stop staring at her.”
 
He slapped the clipboard against
Tyler
’s stomach and
Tyler
automatically grabbed it.
 
DeMarco added, “You’re in charge of the crime scene now.
 
Run it by the book.”

“What?”
 
Tyler
blinked in surprise.
 
“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking Agent Grey home.
 
She’s earned a little rest.”
 
He whistled at
Madison
and motioned for her to get in the car.
 
Then he turned back to
Tyler
, his face a cold mask.
 
“I realize you’d be a big shot even if you weren’t the president’s son, but I don’t care how many medals you have or how many times you’ve cheated death.
 
If you do anything to hurt anyone on my team, I’ll hurt you.”

DeMarco climbed into his car and slammed the door.
 

Tyler
kept his lips clamped shut.
 
He wanted to tell the idiot he’d read his file, complete with the most minute details of the man’s life.
 
Tyler
knew what DeMarco liked in his coffee, his favorite magazine, where he’d attended pre-school.
 
However, the greatest piece of information he’d gleaned had to do with Madison Grey.
 
Roughly two years ago, she and DeMarco had split after a long and secret affair.
 

Not so secret, considering someone had made note of it in the file.
 
Tyler
could imagine the look on DeMarco’s face if he’d recited the file to him, especially that last juicy part.
 

Tyler
decided to keep his mouth shut, play his cards close to the vest.
 
He’d known men like DeMarco before.
 
All talk.
 
No real action.

Now, Madison Grey on the other hand, she had substance.
 
And he loved how she was just the right height to look him square in the eyes, unlike her former lover.

Madison
turned at that moment and caught him appraising her.
 
She glared at him.
 
He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d flipped him off or yelled something rude.
 
Instead she bowed like a performer at the end of the play before the curtains slide together.
 
She walked past him and got into the passenger side of DeMarco’s car.

He grinned.

She stalked over to the car and climbed in beside DeMarco.
 
She avoided looking at
Tyler
again.
 
His smile widened.
 
Yeah, she wanted him.
 
Maybe after he figured out who was trying to assassinate his father along with finishing the secret project he was working on the side, he and Madison Grey could get to know each other better.

Of course that was assuming she didn’t turn out to be on the wrong side of his investigations.

Three agents began to summon him simultaneously.
 
Tyler
didn’t know who to respond to first.
 
He watched DeMarco’s car disappear in the distance with a sinking feeling.
 
Agent DeMarco had just driven off with the person
Tyler
wanted to talk to the most.

******

Madison
dug her fingernails into her palms, fighting the urge to glance back and visually taking in Tyler Law one more time.
 
She closed her eyes with a purpose, leaned her head back against the seat and went over her mission instead.
 
She’d lived with the homeless in
Boston
for three months because intelligence told them someone was somehow recruiting the homeless to try to assassinate the president.
 

She hadn’t found any evidence of it.

At least not until Nancy-girl had tried to blow the president up.

DeMarco turned the heater on and focused the vents in her direction.
 

She spoke out loud, musing to herself.
 
“If it’s true, it’s pretty ingenious.”

“What is?”
 
DeMarco kept his eyes on the road.

“Using homeless people to kill the president.”
 
She turned her head and looked at DeMarco with a sobered expression.
 
“There’s no way to track them.
 
They don’t have homes or jobs or places they need to be.
 
Some of them don’t even have real names anymore.
 
They’ve been living on the street for so long they’ve forgotten who they were to begin with.”

“You didn’t find anything useful?”
 
His voice was low, only a hint of interest.

“Not a thing.
 
In fact, I was sure the CIA was wrong on this one until the incident happened.”
 
She stretched her long legs as far as she could, feeling cramped already.
 
“Did Nancy-girl say anything when you arrested her?”

“No.
 
She’s as silent as the others were.”

“They’ll need to put her under suicide watch.”

The other two homeless people who had tried to assassinate President Law had taken their own lives shortly after being arrested.

DeMarco grunted in agreement.

They lapsed into silence, which was fine with
Madison
.
 
She could relax around DeMarco.
 
There wasn’t anything awkward about the quiet.
 
She wanted to enjoy the ride home, the warmth of the car and the peace of knowing she was safe with him.
 
It seemed like it had been years since she’d enjoyed the luxury of a motor vehicle.

A smile stretched her lips as she fell into a deep sleep, content to be a passenger.

******

Roxie walked across Madison Grey’s attractively furnished living room, tall, thin, and blonde.
 
The razor-cut ends of her hair barely brushed her shoulders.
 
She had one hand wrapped around a crystal flute.
 
She’d raided
Madison
’s stock of wine, choosing a robust red vintage.
 
That wasn’t the only thing she’d borrowed from the missing Grey woman.
 
The short, flirty black dress, diamond bracelet, and strappy three-inch heels also belonged to
Madison
.

Or at least they had.

Roxie smiled smugly as she took a slow walk to the window.
 
One of her father’s employees had told her
Madison
would be returning home soon.
 
Roxie imagined what would happen if the agent caught her in her home.
 
The door could swing open any second.
 
They would fight.
 
Perhaps she’d have to kill
Madison
today.

The thought excited her.

Roxie crossed one leg in front of the other and squeezed her thighs together tight, her loins tingling.
 
She felt like she might pee at any second.
 
A pleasurable, almost sexual sensation made her squeeze harder.
 
She knew she should leave now.
 
Although she was planning to kill
Madison
someday, she wasn’t supposed to do it now.
 
Not yet.
 
Madison
was going to play an integral part in their plans.

Her smile widened and she tipped her glass, pouring the rest of the red wine onto
Madison
’s expensive carpet.
 
She smiled down at the mess.
 
Laughter floated through her parted lips.
 

Roxie retraced her steps.
 
She grabbed the golden-haired doll she’d brought with her and ripped the head off with a hard jerk.
 
Now where to put it?
 
Her crystal blue eyes traveled the room.
 
Ah…perfect.

She set the doll in a chair that faced the door.
 
It would probably be the first thing
Madison
saw when she entered her apartment.
 
Roxie only wished she could be there to see the moron’s expression.
 
It would be priceless.

Roxie placed the head next to the doll.
 

Perfect.

Someday Roxie promised herself she would snap
Madison
’s head off just as cleanly as she had the doll’s.
 
Now that would be a great and wonderful day.
 
Roxie couldn’t wait.

Chapter Two

Madison
stepped into her apartment for the first time in three months, stood just inside the doorway and took a deep, cleansing breath.
 
It felt so good to be home.
 
DeMarco had driven her straight back from
Boston
, only stopping a few times along the way.
 
She wanted to brew some coffee, take a hot shower, sleep in her warm bed, and eat a good meal.
 
Madison
didn’t know which to do first.
 
She crossed the living room, headed for the kitchen, but the blinking light on her answering machine caught her eye.
 
With a tired sigh, she stopped to retrieve her messages.

There were thirty-two!

Impossible
.

Thirty-two people didn’t have her number.

As she listened to each one, she mourned the loss of her plants.
 
She’d asked her neighbor to water them, but Mrs. McCafferey forgot her own name on a good day.
 
Madison
’s fingers caressed the bone-dry leaves.
 
They were shriveled beyond hope.
 
Good thing she didn’t have a cat.
 

Her father’s voice emerged from the answering machine and
Madison
experienced a rush of relief.
 
She had tried to call him from the docks, but he hadn’t answered his cell, which was odd.
 
Her father was a slave to his cell phone.
 

“Maddie, I need to talk to you!”

That was it.
 
End of message.
 
But the next twenty-six messages were all from him, ordering her to call at once, each one more frantic than the last.
 
Didn’t he know she’d been on assignment for the service?

“Maddie, are you picking up your messages?
 
This is urgent.
 
Call me!”

The desperation and panic in his voice tightened her stomach muscles painfully.
 
She’d never heard her father sound like that before.
 
Something was horribly wrong.
 
But what?
 
Why didn’t he give her a hint?

Did he think her phone was bugged?

Message thirty-one.
 
An unfamiliar voice said, “Charity ball tonight at seven.
 
The president has personally requested your presence.”
 
Requested?
 
More like demanded.
 
“And he asked me to tell you that you won’t be working.
 
He wants you to be his guest.”
 
Madison
barely paid attention to the address.
 
She was too busy searching the mess on the coffee table for her cell.
 
It occurred to her that her father might not have answered when she’d tried to call him from
Boston
because he didn’t recognize the number she’d been calling from.