Seduced by the Enemy (Blaze, 41) (17 page)

Starting slowly, Jared reiterated everything he knew, from the initial investigation into Phipps for suspected tax fraud, to finding Dysert and Santiago murdered in Phipps's office. He included his search of Dysert's apartment and the short list of possible Supreme Court appointees he'd found. He explained the years he'd been on the run and his one mistake that had left a woman dead. He talked of Chase Bracken and how he'd been given the information regarding Phipps's involvement with the board of directors of certain HMOs who paid the senator big bucks to protect their interests on the Hill. Money Jared still believed Phipps continued to receive. He showed the director the evidence he did have, what he knew as fact and what he suspected, however circumstantial. He even went so far as to explain how he'd kidnapped Peyton in hopes of keeping her safe. By the time he finished, and sat waiting for the director's reaction, he'd drained his second glass of scotch.

“That's quite a tale, Agent Romine.”

That was the second time the director had referred to him as an agent, as if he was still a part of the bureau. But he wasn't. He'd told Peyton that he could
return to the bureau if the opportunity was still there for him, but hearing himself referred to as Agent Romine sounded foreign to him now. Maybe it was the length of time he'd been underground, or maybe it was something more complicated. He couldn't say. All he knew was that it just didn't feel the same any longer.

“I realize that, sir,” Jared said. “I also realize that much of the evidence I have is circumstantial.”

“True,” Ford added. “But it can be verified. I can verify it.”

“You?” Jared asked, glancing in his direction.

The reporter shrugged. “Sure, why not? That way no one has to know the bureau is involved.”

The director cleared his throat. “That's not necessary, Ford. The bureau
is
involved, only not as it should be.” No one missed the censure in Dawson Craig's voice.

Jared twirled the glass in his hands. “We still don't know who in the bureau is involved.”

Ford rested his forearms on the table. “My guess is Gibson Russell.”

Jared mulled that over, but the director shook his head. “It's possible, but I have my doubts.”

“Why else would the plug have been pulled on the investigation into Phipps?” Ford asked. “Russell is the one who sent Romine and Dysert in, in the first place.”

“Gib didn't pull the plug on the Phipps investigation,” Dawson explained, his heavy salt-and-pepper brows pulling into a vicious frown.

Jared set his glass down. “Then who did?” he asked.

Dawson smacked his hand on the table. “The same person whom I assigned supervision of the investigation into the president's short list. The same person in charge of the investigation requests of the Senate Judicial Committee, and who has access to the kind of information you brought me.”

Jared and Ford both waited, although Ford was just a tad bit more impatient. “Well?” the reporter asked, practically chewing his lips in anticipation.

“Vivien,” the director said solemnly.

Ford sat back and let out a low whistle. “The assistant director? The bureau's number two man, er, woman?”

“Vivien Kent?” Jared clarified.

The disappointment on Dawson's face was palpable as he nodded. “Vivien
Galloway
Kent. The daughter of the president's new appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court.”

Dawson's cell phone rang, giving Jared a moment to digest the knowledge that Vivien Kent had been pulling the strings all along. He'd had no idea Kent was related to Galloway, especially in a town that practically hummed with gossip.

He glanced over at Ford, who sat scribbling more notes on his legal pad, no doubt envisioning the headlines in tomorrow's newspaper, along with his byline. There were still unanswered questions. Who actually had killed Dysert and Santiago? Jared suspected Radcliffe as the actual trigger man, but considering the shocking news that Kent was involved, he wouldn't put it past her, especially when he took into account the fact that her father had just been appointed to the Supreme Court.

He wondered why Peyton had never mentioned Galloway's daughter. Peyton had worked as his law clerk for quite some time. Was it possible she didn't know Vivien Kent was Theodore Galloway's daughter?

“When?” Dawson asked the caller. After a pause, he added, “I'll be there within the hour.”

Jared's interest immediately shifted to Dawson. Something had gone down. He could feel it. A quick glance at Ford, and he realized the reporter knew it, as well, since his pencil had stopped moving.

Dawson looked at Jared, his expression blank. “Make damn sure you keep her alive,” he said, then disconnected the call.

He set the phone back on the table and stood. “That was Gib. Seems your girlfriend just turned herself in to one of my agents.”

P
EYTON AND
S
UNNY WALKED
quietly down the Jet-way, with the assistance of a two-man police escort that had been waiting for them at Reagan National. Although she was wearing a pair of handcuffs that had caused innumerable stares and even a few nasty looks tossed her way throughout the flight, only she and Sunny knew the truth. She wasn't officially under arrest, but Chase had suggested they use the legal route to their advantage, since it would get them back to D.C. in a hurry. Their plan had worked, considering it was only a few minutes shy of midnight as they entered the terminal.

Sunny had insisted Chase return to Cole Harbor, since he was no longer an agent and his presence would most assuredly raise suspicion. The plan was to get Peyton to a safe place and keep her there until all the players were behind bars. Chase had argued, but Sunny had been firm. Peyton wished like the devil Chase had accompanied them. Not that she didn't trust Sunny to protect her, but just the muscular appearance of Jared's future brother-in-law would make someone think twice before trying anything.

She still had no idea where Jared was or if he was even safe, and that drove her crazy. As far as she was concerned, the fact that he'd taken off without a word
to her stood as testament that he would never change. They'd broken through barriers the night before, but apparently it hadn't been enough for him to stick around when things got a little too emotional.

Had she really expected him to change? She thought about that for a moment and quickly realized the answer was no. The truth was, she'd hoped he'd had, but apparently Jared would always be Jared.

Sunny's steps faltered, drawing Peyton's attention.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Sunny murmured, just loud enough for Peyton to hear.

Peyton followed Sunny's line of vision to a tall willowy blonde waiting with two men in dark suits, obvious agents. The woman wore a sparkly top and black silk pants beneath a black wool coat. Her hair, swept into an updo, was perfectly in place. Obviously, she'd been called away from a party. The woman looked just as elegant as Peyton remembered her. “Vivien Galloway?”

Sunny stopped. With her hand on Peyton's arm, she had no choice but to halt, as well. “You know her?” Sunny asked.

Peyton nodded. “I used to work for her father.” She hadn't known Vivien all that well, but the few times she'd been invited to Theodore Galloway's home, she'd had occasion to speak with his daughter. At the time, Vivien had been preparing for her wedding, but Peyton hadn't paid much attention. She was only one of several clerks that worked in Galloway's office and had had no reason to associate with the man's daughter. She'd left Galloway's office and gone on to the Justice Department, and that had been the end of her brief association with Vivien.

“Why would she be here?” Peyton asked.

Sunny cast a quick glance at Vivien and the two waiting agents, who were dismissing the police escort. “Because Vivien
Kent
is the assistant director of the bureau, and the person Gib Russell answers to,” Sunny answered hurriedly. “Look, Peyton, this isn't a good sign. I called Gib, not Vivien. There's only one reason she would be here. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Fear slowly wound its way up Peyton's spine. “My God,” she whispered. “She's the inside man Jared has been looking for all this time.”

Which meant she, and possibly Sunny, too, were as good as dead.

 

A
S THE LINE OF CARS
with flashing lights neared the airport, Jared's anticipation mounted. And so did his anger.

He'd honestly believed he'd be beyond anger at this point, he realized as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floorboard of the director's Chevy Suburban. The last thing he wanted to do was jump to conclusions, but Peyton turning herself in to the feds had him wondering about her faith in him. Of course, he had only himself to blame, since he'd taken off without a word. He didn't believe for a minute she'd betrayed him, again, but he couldn't help the slight niggle of doubt.

Still, he'd screwed up. He only hoped that she could forgive him for leaving her without so much as a hint of his plans, or not telling her if he'd be returning anytime soon.

The ringing of the director's cell phone cut into his thoughts. The call was brief. “That was Gib,” Daw
son said, tossing the phone back onto the console as they sped along the freeway toward the airport, followed by three other vehicles filled with federal agents. “They caught a couple of goons trying to break into Minor's house. They gave up Radcliffe, and he's being arrested as we speak.”

It would be over soon, of that Jared was certain. And then what? he wondered.

“What about Kent?” Ford Stanton asked from the back seat.

“Nothing,” Dawson answered. “Gib hasn't heard from the two agents he sent to bring her in.”

The anticipation coursing through Jared's veins picked up speed. He had a bad feeling Kent might have found out Agent MacGregor and Peyton were flying in and had gone to the airport to meet them. If she got to them before they did, he didn't want to think about what could happen to Peyton.

 

“T
HANK YOU
, Agent MacGregor. I'll take over from here.”

Peyton wished Sunny had removed the handcuffs, but at least her hands were bound in front of her rather than behind her back. Of course, with two burly, armed agents present, she wouldn't get very far if she did try to run.

“Special Agent Russell is waiting for me to bring in Ms. Douglas, ma'am,” Sunny said. “He's expecting us.”

Vivien's icy blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, chilling Peyton's blood. Sunny was right; Vivien was involved.

“Watch her,” Vivien said coldly to the two other agents. “MacGregor, come with me please.”

“Ma'am, I really don't—”

“Are you attempting to defy a direct order, Agent MacGregor?”

Sunny bit her lip. “No, ma'am,” she said eventually.

“I didn't think so.” Without so much as a glance in Peyton's direction, Vivien turned and indicated that Sunny should precede her across the near-empty terminal to the ladies' room.

The two women slipped inside. Peyton's heart rate accelerated. Whether she attempted an escape or not, they were going to kill her, of that she had little doubt. That being the case, she had nothing to lose by trying to make a run for it.

The two agents, both of whom stood directly in front of her, stared down at her, their faces impassive. With her jacket over her hands, she had to wonder if they even knew she was cuffed. Not that it would make a difference when they gunned her down for a botched escape attempt.

She gathered up her courage, but it was too late. Vivien exited the ladies' room, without Sunny MacGregor.

“It's been a long time, Peyton,” Vivien said with a cool smile once she rejoined her thugs. “I'd ask how you've been, but I think that's rather obvious.”

Vivien was a good five to ten years older than Peyton. Time, and what Peyton was sure had been a long parade of cosmetic professionals, had been good to her.

“Daddy must be so proud,” Peyton spat at her. “I
wonder, how do you think he's going to feel knowing his daughter would stoop to criminal activity to see him seated on the bench?”

Her smile faded. “My father's future is secure. And no one will be the wiser, once you and Romine are out of the way.” She paused, no doubt for effect. “Speaking of which, just where is your boyfriend, Peyton? Did he run off on you again?”

If her hands weren't cuffed, she might have punched Vivien right in her perfect nose.

Vivien grabbed Peyton by the upper arm and started walking her through the nearly deserted terminal. The two agents maintained an even pace a few feet behind them.

“Since you're going to kill me anyway,” Peyton said, in what she hoped was not a vain attempt to buy time until she could figure out a way to escape Vivien and her henchmen, “answer a couple of questions for me.”

Vivien sighed. “Is this chatter really necessary?”

Peyton ignored the snide comment. “What's in all this for you, other than handing Daddy a seat on the Supreme Court?”

Vivien laughed. “Are you really all that naive, Peyton?”

Peyton shrugged. “Money usually plays a role somewhere.”

“Money doesn't interest me.”

“Power, then.”

“Perhaps you're not as stupid as I give you credit for being. With my father on the bench, they wouldn't dare pass me over for the director's job.”

“The director's job? He'd have to step down
first…” The import of Vivien's words hit her with the force of a hurricane. The director wouldn't be stepping down, he'd be eliminated—by Vivien or someone under her control. Good God, was there no end to the nightmare she and Jared and been pulled into?

They reached the end of the first concourse and turned right. To Peyton's relief, a flurry of men in blue suits charged toward them, guns drawn. Her joy was short-lived when the goons behind her rushed forward, their own weapons drawn.

“It's over, Vivien,” someone shouted.

“Let her go!” another, more familiar voice called out, raising Peyton's hopes that she would get out of this alive. Jared.

Looking for him, Peyton searched the faces of the agents scattered in front of them. He walked slowly toward them, moving easily past the others. God, she'd never been happier to see another human being in her life.

“Let her go, Vivien.” The owner of the first voice she'd heard materialized—an older gentleman she vaguely recognized from somewhere. “Do you really want to add another murder charge to those already against you?”

Vivien stopped and jostled Peyton to keep her in front of her. “You have nothing on me, Dawson. Nothing.”

“You're wrong, Vivien,” the man stated in a calm, authoritative voice. Peyton finally recognized him as Dawson Craig, the FBI's top man. “We have plenty. Murder, conspiracy, conspiracy to commit murder, fraud, obstruction of justice. Shall I continue?”

Vivien's attention remained on the director, but
Peyton couldn't take her eyes off of Jared as he continued to move toward them.

Something hard suddenly pressed against her ribs. This was no disposable lighter. She had no trouble recognizing the cold steel barrel of the gun Vivien held on her.

Jared inched closer.

Vivien swung around and aimed the gun right at Jared's chest.

From somewhere behind him, someone yelled, “Freeze!” but Vivien ignored the order and pulled the trigger.

Bullets started flying. They whizzed past Peyton and pinged against doors and security gates. She heard a grunt as one of Vivien's men hit the ground with a thud. Peyton looked down into his unseeing eyes and nearly lost her fried-chicken dinner.

She wanted to duck, hit the floor, dive for cover before she joined the dead agent, but Vivien's excruciating grip on her arm kept her upright, a human shield.

The second of Vivien's henchmen hit the floor. Her hold on Peyton tightened as she slowly began to move backward through the concourse.

Jared dove for them, and Vivien fired again. He appeared to stop in midair, his body twisting in a frightening display as he fell to the ground.

“Jared!” Peyton screamed just as another shot rang out. Vivien's grip on her loosened. Peyton twisted away and ran to Jared as Vivien crumpled to the floor.

Peyton's heart pounded wildly as she knelt beside Jared, hoping, praying that he would survive. Blood oozed from his side, soaking his shirt. He was uncon
scious, but breathing, and for now that had to be enough, because she knew clear down to her soul there was no way she could lose Jared a second time and survive the heartache.

 

F
INGERS OF EARLY MORNING
light crept through the opening in the heavy drapes covering the window of Jared's hospital room at Bethesda Medical Center on Tuesday morning. It'd been six hours since the incident at the airport, and slowly Peyton had started to relax.

She pushed aside the blanket a kindly nurse had given her as she'd hovered between wakefulness and light sleep while she held vigil in the hard vinyl chair next to Jared's bed. They'd had to perform surgery to remove the bullet, which had entered his side and, thankfully, been stopped by a rib, preventing further, and possibly fatal, damage. After a few weeks of recovery, he would be back on his feet and able to return to his job at the bureau, if that was truly what he decided he wanted.

She'd already contacted her boss at the Justice Department and made arrangements for a leave of absence. Under the circumstances, her boss hadn't argued, and had promised to make sure her cases were covered.

There was no doubt in her mind where Jared would spend the next six weeks of recovery—in her home where she could keep a close eye on him. Some might say she was being overprotective, but the truth went far deeper. She had no intention of letting him out of her sight until she was confident he would be okay. Once he recovered, they could begin to discuss the
future and whether or not it included them being together.

For those brief seconds when she'd feared Vivien had killed Jared, Peyton had realized her life would once again be hollow without him. She'd spent the past three years with him never far from her thoughts, and while she'd tried to move on with her life, she knew she'd only been going through the motions. Oh, sure, the two of them had a few issues to work through, but she didn't believe for a second they couldn't overcome a few more hurdles. She firmly believed that if their relationship was strong, they could handle together whatever came their way.

Jared's former boss, Gibson Russell, had remained at the hospital until Jared had come out of surgery and he personally heard the okay from the doctors that Jared would have a full recovery. While much of Gib's attention had been on the various phone calls coming in on his cell phone, plus checking on Sunny MacGregor, Peyton had still appreciated his presence.