Slow Summer Burn: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance (26 page)

“Yes, well, Sherry sent me to fetch you because it’s about to start. We should hurry, since you’re going to have to give introductory remarks. Nigel,” he said, nodding at her uncle.

“Hello, Junior,” Nigel replied. “How’s your father?”

“Well, thank you for asking.” Junior took her hand. “Come, Cameron. The auction won’t wait.”

“Go,” Nigel said. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Junior tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her down the gallery. Trapped against his side, Cameron felt more stifled than she had in months, but what could she do? Accuse him of abandoning Cici when she was drunk at his sister’s party? Have a breakdown in front of Boston’s high society?
Blow my cover?
No, she couldn’t do that. Because then she’d be destroying Val’s investigation, too.

So she calmly walked with Junior and thanked him politely when he deposited her next to her co-chair. She kept her game face on through her remarks before the live auction. She nodded appreciatively when Nigel induced the cream of Boston’s society to give generously. She smiled throughout the drinking and toasting and the Symphony conductor’s speech. She stayed organized throughout the cleanup. When the evening was over, she gratefully allowed her co-chair to drive her home.

And once she was finally alone in the silence of her empty brownstone, she kicked off her hateful high-heeled sandals, stripped off her party dress, lay facedown on her bed, and cried until she fell asleep.

Chapter 26

Showtime!

Cameron slid through the crowded ballroom in the Kirkland mansion and snared a glass of champagne from a nearby server. She didn’t need the liquid courage, but it
did
make the perfect prop. She’d been preparing for the congressman’s party for two weeks—ever since she signed on the dotted line to be a CI. She’d barely seen Val outside of work, and each moment she spent with him at the DEA preparing for the event felt like stolen time.

Junior sought her out immediately. “Cameron,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t see you come in. You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, noticing his eyes didn’t warm the way Val’s did when he said it. God, she’d be so glad when this was over! “You look wonderful, too.” And he did look wonderful. He always looked wonderful. The same boring wonderful he always did, with his perfect hair and his perfect smile and his perfect clothes. Tonight he was wearing a navy blazer over a button-down shirt, artfully opened at the top. Flat-front slacks and a pair of loafers completed his look.

“Did you just get here?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. The whole place looks beautiful.”

“Wait until you see the great lawn. Dad went all out for this event.”

“Maybe you can take me out there later,” she said with a smile. “Oh, there are my parents!” Clarissa and Frederick were crossing the large ballroom, Cici in tow. She’d begged Cici to accompany her, but her sister had insisted on going back to their parents’ house that morning, telling Cameron it made logistical sense since she’d promised to go somewhere with their mother that afternoon. Happily, Cici would be back at her place the next morning.

“Did you come with them?” Junior asked.

“No, I drove myself from my house.” With a stop at Val’s office to pick up a little something for the party. That little something was a device that looked like a car key, but was really a sophisticated alarm that would alert Val as to her whereabouts in an emergency. The device looked so unassuming that at first, Cameron had actually thought it
was
a car key.

That’s the idea
, Val had said.
It’ll let me get to you fast in case something goes wrong
.

Nothing was going to go wrong, but the thought of Val waiting half a mile down the road in his truck made her feel a lot better.

“Cameron,” her mother said, sweeping her into an air hug, two little air kisses punctuating her greeting. “You look fabulous. And your dress is just perfect.” Her strapless summer frock was ultra-preppy in a cream-and-violet floralpatterned silk.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, watching as Junior chatted up her father.

In a moment, Clarissa had joined in the conversation he and Frederick were having about their golf handicaps, and Cici gave her a quizzical look.

“What are you doing?” her sister whispered, glancing over at Junior. “I thought you and—”

“Later,” Cameron hissed. “I promise.” She’d have to explain things to Cici in a way that didn’t violate the terms of her CI agreement. But she couldn’t do it in this crowded place.

Cici nodded, her look of confusion morphing into something like worry. “Okay.”

“Everything’s fine,” Cameron said through her teeth.

“Sure,” Cici said, her face once again a mask of impassivity. And then Cameron realized how calm her sister was. How calm she’d been all along. She was seriously impressed before she realized that Cici had lots of practice hiding her emotions—just like she had.

Junior peeled off Frederick and Clarissa and placed his hand in the small of her back. “Let me introduce you to one of my old college roommates who’s in town for the weekend.”

She didn’t protest when he guided her toward a tall, good-looking man, who ended up talking nonstop about his bond trading. Nor did she protest when he shepherded her around the room as if she were his personal property. Slowly, she sipped her champagne while Junior talked to his friends.

At some point, she ended up in a group with her mother and father, Cici, Junior, and a few other lawyers and bankers. She smiled politely and nodded at the appropriate points, but mostly she went over the evening’s game plan in her head. Good thing the financial markets and the national debt were not her areas of expertise, so she wasn’t expected to add much to the conversation. Going over Val’s rules in her head was much more satisfying a topic, anyway.
Don’t unlock a door. Don’t touch anything. Don’t move anything. We’re only interested in what you can see in plain sight
.

Congressman Kirkland himself finally joined them, greeting everyone in turn. When he got to her, his eyes lit up.

“Cameron,” he said, flashing her the smile that had gotten him reelected twice. “I’m so glad you were able to join us tonight. We’ve missed you.”

“Thank you for hosting, Ted.”

“My pleasure, my dear. My pleasure.”

When he turned away to talk with her father, Cameron studied him. This was the first time she’d seen him since she’d learned about his foray into illegal activities, and from the surface, you’d never guess. He was
such
a nice man, so welcoming, so friendly, and with so much civility and intelligence, it wasn’t difficult to see why all his constituents loved him. She couldn’t help but ask the questions that had been running through her mind since Val had informed her of the investigation. How could he have fallen so far? And why? But those weren’t her questions to answer. Her job was to get the information and to deliver it safely into the hands of the DEA so they could figure it out.

The crowd soon thinned, and Cameron ended up near the congressman.

“Ted,” she said, artfully placing a hand on his arm. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about Canada.”

A little line appeared above the bridge of his nose, sending his two well-manicured eyebrows swinging together. “Canada?”

“Yes,” she said, praying this wasn’t a misstep. “I’ve actually been thinking about taking a trip up there, and I was wondering if you had some tips for me.”

“How did you hear about my trips to Canada?”

“Cecile, of course. She mentioned that Taylor had invited her to Ottawa. I just assumed it was a family trip.”

The eyebrows swung out. “Ah, yes, quite right.” He smiled. “I was thinking of a different trip. So what would you like to know?”

“I’d be interested in any out-of-the-way places, unusual sights … that kind of thing.” Was she baiting him? She wasn’t sure. Her questions could easily be construed as innocent, but then again, that was the point.

“Ah, well, the skiing’s fine closer to Quebec, but not this time of year. No, during the summer I’d recommend boating on Lake Ontario. And all the islands on the St. Lawrence are
exceptionally pretty. Route 81 will get you there.”

“So driving is the way to go?”

“Oh, no. We always fly. Always. Don’t have time for road trips, m’dear.”

Junior came up and threw an arm around the congressman’s shoulders. “Not with father’s schedule,” he interjected with a laugh. “Or my own. Can you imagine being stuck on the highway if they called an emergency congressional session in Washington?”

“Or an emergency injunction hearing.”

Both men laughed.

The congressman turned back to her. “May I ask why you are so interested in Canada?”

“I suppose because it’s so unusual,” she said, hoping she sounded interested, not prying. “Most of our friends go to places like St. Bart’s or the Riviera for vacations. Your trips must be something special.”

“They are,” Junior said. “Dad or I can tell you more later, if you’re still interested.”

“I’d like that,” she replied.

Junior pulled his father away to chat with some political bigwig.

“Enjoy yourself, my dear,” the congressman said as he walked away. “The place is yours.”

Since the congressman had just offered her carte blanche to his home, now might be a good chance to have a look around. She made an excuse to her parents about needing to visit the bathroom and slipped out of the ballroom. Walking with purpose, she passed by the door leading out to the great lawn, swung a left, and walked down a long hallway. She’d never been here before and the place was enormous, so she went by intuition, briskly moving toward the back of the mansion.

She ended up near the kitchen. Servants were racing around, and fearful of being seen, she went back the other way. She was in one of the back corridors now, but she couldn’t find a way out.
Ah, there
. At the end of the hallway was an orangery. The room was dimly lit but made entirely of glass. And it looked like there was an exit. After glancing around to make sure she was still in the clear, she slipped out the door and onto the back lawn.

It was considerably smaller than the front lawn, and there were caterers’ vans neatly lined up along one edge. According to Val, there was a structure on the side of the house that might be able to house a small aircraft, and that was where she headed. She went past the vans in search of
the structure. Her shoes were slowing her down, so she pulled them off and carried them. Her feet would probably get dirty, but she could easily justify a little dirt to get potentially critical information for Val’s case.

Thank goodness it was summertime, because even though it was pushing 8:30 P.M., it was still light outside. She’d looked at a map before the party, and there appeared to be a way to access the structure without going through the small woods that dipped down into the property. Which was a good thing, because walking through woods without shoes wasn’t the smartest idea.

Val and his team had scoped out the Kirkland compound ahead of time. Of course there was security—video cameras and alarms—but Val had it on good authority they would be disabled for the party. As far as a security detail, he’d informed her that Kirkland’s private force would be patrolling the perimeter of the compound only. Val’s intelligence seemed to be correct, since the only guards she’d seen had been at the front gate. She hoped he was right about the other security, too.

Sooner than she’d anticipated, the structure loomed up ahead. Surrounded on three sides by close-lying woods, the fourth side—the one with the huge set of doors—appeared to lead down a grassy path to the great lawn. The building looked a bit like a low warehouse, about two hundred feet long and fifty feet wide. It didn’t seem to have any windows—the perfect place for a little plane to be hidden.

Cameron checked behind her to make sure she hadn’t been followed. No one was there. She felt like a super spy. Except super spies didn’t have hearts that pounded in their chests or hands that trembled, did they? She shook her head. She really wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. Artful questioning was one thing—she’d been trained by the master in the field, her own mother. But sneaking around and avoiding being caught was
not
her area of expertise. Cameron took a deep breath. The sooner she got in there and got the information, the sooner she could get back to the party.

She followed a little gravel path around the side—wincing at the pain to her soles the whole way—and found a door. Praying that it was unlocked, she went to open it, and was in luck. All she had to do was push with her shoulder and it swung open. She got inside fast and shut the door. Without turning on the lights, which might attract attention or set off some kind of alarm, she felt around for the tiny flashlight in her clutch and pulled it out. The beam was small but powerful. On the wall near her there was a long table and a chair. Farther down the wall,
nothing. She turned her beam toward the middle of the building and there it was: a plane.

And a small helicopter.

Keeping the beam low, just as Val had instructed, she used it to make sure her path was clear to the plane. She walked around it, then kept going to the helicopter. Pulling out her cell phone, she got into the confidential photo app that Ellen had installed, punched in the code, and snapped pictures of the numbers on the sides of each craft.

Okay, she’d gotten what she came for—proof that a plane was being stored here, and bonus information about a helicopter, besides. Time to leave. Carefully, she walked back toward the door when on the table, she saw an open book. Coming closer, she realized that it was the pilot’s log.

Val had asked her not to touch or move anything, but this was right in front of her. Surely something in plain sight was within the limits of what she could look for. Using the flashlight, she quickly scanned the double page. A bunch of acronyms were listed, and she took a picture of them, too. She flipped back a few pages and took a couple more pictures.