Survival Instinct (17 page)

He smiled back at her. Grinned, actually, freed up from the personal byplay to attend the practical. “I’m not. I’m observing his guests, and you’re a new face to me. I’ve accosted you so we can talk. And by the way, I’ve got someone to play the role of the developer. You want the phone number? It’s a Florida cell. I had it shipped to her just for you.”

She blinked. “Who?”

“Her name is Kimmer Reed. She works for Owen, but she owes me a favor or two right now. She can play him any way you like—and she’s got an incredible ability to read people, even over the phone. She can tell you what he’s really thinking.”

“Maybe you should talk to her, then. Maybe she can tell you what
you’re
really thinking.”

“Ow.” Dave mimed taking a blow to the heart. “Nice hit.”

“Far from a killing blow. Give me the number.”

He pulled out his notepad, and she shook her head. “That’s just plain evidence, and I’m headed for the lion’s den. I’ll memorize it.” And she did. When he gave it to her, slowly, she immediately rattled it back off at him. Then she gave him her own number—a new cell, apparently—and said, “Go ahead. Write it down. You’ll feel better, you and your notes.”

Flushing slightly, he did, then tucked the notebook back inside his suit. The one that dressed him up too finely for his cop role, but would have been perfect for the chauffeur boy-toy role she’d had sketched out for him. “And now? You really got an invitation to this thing?”

“I really do. And now that we’ve been standing here for so long, I need you to grab me.”

“You—what?”

Her face flashed impatience. “We’ve been here too long. We’ve been noticed. I’m going to walk past you, and I want you to grab me—like you mean it, too. And you should know I’m gonna slap you.”

“You’ve been planning this?” While they stood there and talked, she’d choreographed interpersonal mayhem?

“Make it up as I go along,” she said tartly, shifting the shawl over her shoulders as she straightened in offense at some imaginary thing he’d said, raised her chin, and stalked past him.

But two could play that game. He dug into his pocket, searching for the tiny device there even as he turned on her, grabbing her arm. She tugged away, hissing through her teeth, “Make it real!” and he latched on to her with the other hand, planting the device on the soft skin beneath her upper arm.

“Real enough?” he asked, as they struggled on the sidewalk in incongruous contrast to the continuing arrival of the beautiful people.

“Not quite,” she said, and yanked one arm free to deal him a resounding slap. A slap hard enough to stagger him, and she sprang away, readjusting her shawl and stalking down the sidewalk as though she owned it.

Had to hand it to her. For that moment, she did.

Karin’s hand still stung with the impact of the slap she’d dealt Dave; anger and chagrin warred for dominance within, somehow settling into a churning stomach.
Get it together, Karin.

She followed another couple up the impeccably maintained walk surrounded by a colorful splash of iris and forsythia. Tulips lined the stairs; clumps of hyacinths clustered beside them. Two hanging pots flanked the doorway, spilling over with bright fuchsia blossoms. The beautiful life, with the beautiful people.

Things change, Longsford.

She smiled at the perky young thing who served as door greeter, and knew enough to flash her invitation at just the right moment so as not to create an embarrassing hesitation.

And then she was in.

Her goal for the day? Just to catch Longsford’s attention. No pushing, no sales talk. To judge by the sound of things, the main activity would be out back, taking advantage of the huge, long backyard and the weather. But no rush. There was a small number of people circulating in what was once a parlor, and Karin folded her shawl over her arm and went to introduce herself as a friend of the Braddocks’—one of the two traveling couples from Dave’s notes. By the end of the party they’d all know that the gregarious couple had wielded influence to get her the invitation. A kindness to someone from out of town, with just enough implication that they thought the introduction could be beneficial to Longsford, too.

Except she’d only taken one step into the parlor when a hand fell on her shoulder. A heavy hand, full of authority. In some ways, a hand she’d been expecting since she was eight years old. She turned, a smile ready on her face.

At the sight of Longsford, she faltered momentarily. His pictures hadn’t conveyed the impact of his presence, not one bit. Not just because his features were attractive, if flawed enough to keep him real, or that he was a large man. More that he was a man used to exerting power and influence; that confidence radiated from his very core. If there was some part of him still frustrated with the struggle to take control from his domineering mother, it didn’t so much as peek through. For the first time, Karin felt a trickle of doubt.
What if it’s not him?

Then no harm done. She’d run her scam without finding evidence, she’d relieve him of a little extra cash and she’d be on her way. His reputation would be unsullied, and Dave Hunter would have to get used to being wrong. He’d have to find a new suspect. Meanwhile Karin would start her new life—again. As fast as the thoughts flickered through her mind, Karin recovered her smile. “Mr. Longsford,” she said warmly. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Lily and Kent have told me so much about you.”

“And they’ve told me nothing of you,” he said. “I frankly can’t imagine how you made it on the guest list.” But when she opened her mouth to explain, he cut her off. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now I want to know what that was all about.”

She discovered he had a hand on her arm, and that he’d drawn her aside—still in the parlor, but just barely. Those who had recently occupied the space drifted oh-so-casually away, their perfume and their alcohol fumes still on the air. “I’m not sure—”

He jerked his head toward the front windows. “There’s a good view of the street from there. I saw you talking with that man. Do you know who he is?”

No lying here. The tone behind his question gave away the fact that Longsford had recognized Dave. Not a big surprise.

“I know he’s arrogant, rude and pushy. I know he’s investigating something.” She smiled. “If you saw the conversation, I expect you also saw how it ended.”

Longsford smiled, too. “In fact, I did. But I still need to know what you told him.”

Time to take a little control. No one had the right to interrogate her like this, and if she allowed it she’d give the wrong impression of Maia. Longsford wouldn’t trust her to represent his interests if she was easy to push around. She held out her hand. “I’m Maia Brenner,” she said. “I saw the Braddocks in Florida before they left for their cruise. They were interested in some land I’m representing. They learned I was coming north on business, and said they’d arrange for us to meet. When I received this invitation, I assumed that’s what they meant.”

His expression remained thoughtful—absorbing the implications, pondering the explanation. Probably pondering her vague familiarity, too. Not pleased.

It was time to give him back control. “You look unhappy. I’m sorry. If this was a mistake, I’ll be glad to leave.”

“I’m not sure that’s the answer,” he said, and glanced at a door. Karin thought it would probably lead to just a little bit too much privacy.

Then again, what would he do? In his own home, in the middle of a charity benefit?

Don’t be naive, Karin. He’ll do anything he wants to.
It sounded like Ellen’s voice in her head. Ellen, the cautious one. Karin listened but didn’t back down. “He asked me questions about you. I don’t know a thing, so in the end we didn’t talk about much at all. I had nothing to tell him.”

And still he studied her.

“Here,” she said. “I’ve got my cell phone. I don’t think the Braddocks’ secretary will give out their number—they really wanted to get away from it all. But maybe since it’s you—?” Flattery never hurt, oh no.

But he wasn’t going for it. She saw it in the set of his jaw. He might not truly disbelieve her, but he didn’t want to deal with her.

So. Fight vulnerability with vulnerability. She was still reaching for her cell phone; she deliberately fumbled her purse. It fell to the gorgeous parquet, spilling the contents everywhere. “Oh, my,” she said, inane but for the embarrassment in her voice as she crouched to scoop up the phone, the lipstick, the little canister of pepper spray.

And the invitation. That, she carefully nudged farther away as she picked up the rest of it.

Someone came up behind Longsford. “Barry, your guests out back…” The event coordinator. “These benefits are so much more successful when you circulate.”

Crap! Go away. Go. Away.

Karin held her breath with anticipation as well as intent, and gave Longsford just enough time to pick up the invitation—to get a good look at her name, and at the apparent authenticity of the thing. Just enough time, but not any more. Then she stood up, knowing her face was now flushed, knowing just how convincing she’d look when her eyes rolled back and she crumpled gracefully to the floor.

She couldn’t have planned it better. Those clustered on the other side of the room gasped in dismay; the conversation level rose dramatically. Rather like the stiff material of her skirt, which ended up indecently high on her thigh.

“What the hell?” Longsford grunted, bending over her.

“I’ll call 911—”

“Don’t be an old woman. She’s probably just fainted. You want a successful event? Let’s keep the paramedics out of it.” An instant later, he easily lifted her in his arms. Her head rolled; she let her eyes flutter. “Be still,” he told her, his voice more brusque than compassionate. And to his companion, “The sitting room. I’d like a private chat with her in any event.”

Maybe not such a great idea after all.

Then again, he didn’t still seem to be thinking about having her escorted out.

Karin kept herself limp in the man’s arms—feeling the strength of them, trying not to imagine what it would be like to be a child on the other end of that strength.

“Bring some water,” Longsford commanded to someone on the way to the sitting room. Karin had slitted her eyes open, but saw nothing she could make sense of—bobbing faces and swooping architecture, and then her dangling ankles bumped a door frame. Within moments she’d been carefully deposited on a couch.

People pressed in around the doorway with curiosity and questions. “Do you know her?” “What happened?” “Did you see her go down?” And another, more directed; a woman’s voice. “Mr. Longsford? A cool cloth for the young lady?”

“Yes, get that.” His big hand grasped her jaw for a good look, then gave the side of her face a pat. “Miss Brenner?”

“See if she’s got a Medic Alert bracelet.” Someone checked her wrists—smaller hands than Longsford. Sweaty hands.
Yuck.

Karin let herself make a little noise of surprise. That, too, got a crowd reaction, and a reaction from Longsford. “Enough, people. She’s fine. I’ll see you out back in a few moments, where our beneficiaries for the afternoon have materials for your attention.”

When he turned back to her she met his gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, and rearranged herself to sit up a little straighter. “I’ll be fine. Low blood pressure…I should know not to stand up so quickly.”

Longsford grunted. It was a noncommittal sound. He sat down across from her in a lightly stuffed wing chair. One of the caterers entered with a glass of ice water and a cool wet cloth. Karin accepted both with gratitude, and hesitated over her next step.

Longsford took it for her. He gestured at the small coffee table between them, and she found her purse there; the invitation still stuck out the top. “Maia Brenner,” he said. “I don’t know you. I have my doubts about your connection to the Braddocks.” He stopped long enough to catch her eye, and his own were dark and flat and offered no quarter. She wasn’t expecting the jolt they gave her, the stab of unexpected fear.

“Why are you really here?”

Chapter 18

H
ow can he possibly know?

Karin took a deep breath and slid back into her game face. Of course he didn’t know. He’d merely twigged that Maia Brenner’s true purpose wasn’t to mingle with the Braddocks’ friends. She could work with that. In fact, it might well move things along a little faster.

So she let herself look abashed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be quite so obvious. I suppose that man outside didn’t help.”

“He brought you to my attention,” Longsford agreed. “Miss Brenner, I’m a busy man. I don’t like to play games.”

Actually, yes, you do. You just like to make the rules.

But this was Karin’s game. Her rules. He just didn’t know it yet.

She sat up a little straighter, making sure her hem hadn’t ridden too high, one hand checking the state of her hair. Not her own first concern, but Maia would care. Finding herself moderately presentable, she said, “I met Lily and Kent at a pitch reception before the cruise. You know the type—cocktails, their fanciest hors d’oeuvres, a big come-on for the next cruise. I find it’s a good place to feel people out for the opportunities I broker, and—”

“I see.” His interruption was brusque; he shifted his weight in preparation to stand.

“Mr. Longsford,” she said firmly. “I already have my own reception planned, and a list of exclusive clients who are interested in my presentation. I wouldn’t have gone to the effort of arranging this invitation if I wasn’t convinced you were a perfect match for this particular investment.”

He rose to his feet anyway, but he hesitated, regarding her silently for a long moment. Finally he said, “And why is that?”

“Because of just this.” She gestured out the door at the gathering, the environmental charity. “It’s an opportunity to invest in high-value property, recoup that investment and at the same time earn some spotlight publicity for your support of the environment.”

Skepticism laced his words. “And why do I think that sounds too good to be true?”

Time for frank honesty. “Because it almost is. For anyone else, it’s just an investment opportunity. Only for someone in your position does the environmental aspect of it kick in.”

He regarded her another long moment and gave a dismissive shake of his head. “You’ve wasted your time.”

She lifted one shoulder, let it fall. “Not really. I’m here to arrange my own reception—I just wanted to speak to you first. I hope you’ll tell the Braddocks that I did follow through on their generosity. They were so pleased to think they’d helped, especially with your recently announced candidacy for the Senate.” She stood, making it an impulsive gesture, and watched the weight of her words sink in.

Longsford said, “Wait,” and then just looked at her, a hard assessment.

“I know your time is valuable,” she said, and stepped into the opening he’d left. “Please, let me take you to lunch. I have a complete package of information, including financial details. Bring your accountant—bring whomever you’d like. If you’re still not interested, then I’ll move ahead with the reception.”

He didn’t respond right away, visibly weighing the decision. One last nudge… She smiled at him. “Your choice of restaurant, of course. You call the shots, all the way.”

His nod came abruptly. “As long as you understand that.”

“It would never work any other way,” she assured him. “I’m a facilitator, not a manager.”

He withdrew a business card from his inside jacket pocket and handed it over to her. “Call my secretary.”

Crap. It would have been much better if she’d been able to pin him down on a day and time—

“I’d love to make sure you have first crack at this,” she said, even as she took the card. “I’m seeing my printer—you know Houghlin’s?—tomorrow at eleven to make final arrangements for the reception materials. I’d be happy to hold off my approval on the print job until after lunch.”

Longsford’s frown gave her a glimpse of the man he could be. The man who was capable of snatching young boys from their families and locking them away for his own use…then killing them when he was through. She hid her shiver, wishing her shawl was still draped over her shoulders. She met his eyes, pretended she couldn’t see behind them and smiled. “Please,” she said. “Whatever restaurant is most convenient for you.”

He eyed her in an almost proprietary way, as though he expected to acquire her right along with the property. “Call in the morning for place and time,” he said. “Now. I have my own guests to attend to. Please feel free to make a contribution to the cause. And Maia—” He waited for her to meet his gaze, her expression attentive, before adding, “If you drop something, do let someone else pick it up.”

It sounded like a warning.

Karin put a modest donation to Keep It Green on a credit card and ate enough of the gourmet finger food to satisfy her stomach for the rest of the day. She exchanged dignified and appropriate conversation with the other guests and didn’t overstay her welcome.

It was as she was climbing into the car that her thoughts returned to her encounter with Dave. Her wary, suspicious mind had had time to mull it over—to realize the significance of their encounter. Of just how hard he’d held her arms.

And she thought of the first time he’d held her that tightly, and what he’d really been doing.

“Miss?” Bill paused with his hand on the door.

She smiled at him. “Sorry. It was an interesting event…it left me with a lot to think about.”

“It’s not many find themselves invited here,” he agreed, and gently pushed the door closed.

By the time he settled into the front seat, Karin had found the bug.
Son of a—

No, don’t jump to conclusions. Just because he’d put another of those bugs on her—and damned clever about it, too—didn’t mean he intended to track her down and reel her in. Maybe he’d just wanted to keep his hand in the game.

But she couldn’t be sure.

She leaned forward as Bill put the car in gear. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am?”

“I find myself in need of a nightcap, but not company. And I have a particular fondness for single-malt whiskey.”

“There’s no place in this city I don’t know,” he told her, and grinned. “We’ll get you that nightcap, miss.”

Karin smiled her thanks and leaned back into the luxurious seat, content to pass the time by peeling the tracker patch off the back of her arm, gentle with it as she placed it inside her powder compact. When Bill pulled the car to the curb outside one of the charming little stores near the waterfront—Thomas P.’s, it said, with a window display of lovingly arranged bottles on half casks and velvet—she had the compact palmed and ready to go. It was a simple matter to drop her purse and, upon recovering it, to hide the compact behind the planter along the storefront.
Thank goodness for old ploys.
And for a community determined to decorate itself with flowering plants.

Maybe Dave would find it. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he certainly wasn’t going to find
her.

God, she’s good.

Dave sat in the Maxima outside the recently closed liquor store and couldn’t help the little tingle of admiration, not even as it warred with annoyance. That would teach him to assume anything about Karin Sommers. When the tracker had stopped moving, he’d been certain he’d pinned down her hotel, that from here on out he’d be able to keep a decent surveillance on her.

But no, she’d found the little bug. Found it and stashed it.

That she’d led him to the area’s best fine-liquor store while she was at it…

Okay, that was the part that made him smile.

Made him remember, too, their scotch tasting—his surprise that she knew the formal details, his response to the sensual nature of her delight in the taste of it.

Maybe she’d meant to evoke those memories…maybe not. No assumptions either way.

And he had no idea where she’d take the scam from here. He was within yards of the bug, but couldn’t find it without engaging in some decidedly suspicious activity outside a liquor store in one of the better parts of town.

He’d given her his number. He’d have to hope she used it.

And that was the part that annoyed him.

Or maybe it just frightened him.

He thought about it another moment. Karin on her own against Longsford plying a scam was one thing, but this time the scam was only the means to an end. She was two layers undercover, and she was up against a high-profile player who’d been preying on little boys for years—and a man who killed children wouldn’t stop at killing a woman. Not even the most clever, determined woman with whom Dave had ever butted heads.

Yeah. It definitely frightened him.

Regardless of what she’d told Longsford, Karin had no appointment with the printer the next morning. She called Longsford’s secretary and set up lunch, and then spent her time at the Kate Waller Barrett Branch Library, saving photos off the Ranchwood Web site and pulling the information together in a rough flyer that included the number for the Florida cell phone Dave had sent to Kimmer Reed.

And then she found herself a park bench out in an overcast, rain-spitting day and called the Florida number herself.

The woman who answered the phone was breathless, enough so Karin paused a moment before asking to speak to Kimmer Reed. And then, before the woman could tell her it was a wrong number, Karin quickly added, “This is Karin, Dave’s friend. I’ve got some background info you’ll need to hold your cover.”

Kimmer’s breathing was already settling down. She said, “Don’t mind me, I was on the treadmill. Why did you call the dedicated phone?”

Karin winced. This one was on top of things, all right. She decided then and there that the only way to go was the truth; gut instinct honed by a lifetime of practice told her she couldn’t play this woman. “I don’t have your number,” she said. “Dave and I are still working separately. He probably mentioned that.”

“Not in detail. I know he’s worried sick about you. From the sounds of it, I understand why.”

If he didn’t want it this way, he shouldn’t have made it impossible to trust him.

Totally ironic, considering he was the honor-bound rescuer and she was the one who so comfortably hovered around the line between wrong and right and, by his definition, probably crossed it on a regular basis.

But Kimmer was waiting, and Karin said, “I know what I’m doing.”

Only the faintest of hesitations, and Kimmer said, “Yes, I see that you do.” Before Karin could make sense of that, Kimmer added, “Okay, I’ve got something to scribble with.”

“You’re representing Ranchwood Acres,” Karin told her. “You’ve got three hundred acres of prime land southeast of Okeechobee, and you want a million dollars for it. That’s well under the going rate for one-acre parcels. You’re willing to do private financing with a thirty percent down payment—and if you can sneak in a snide remark about keeping it out of the hands of the Florida Conservation Coalition, that would be perfect. The land has limited access due to the whole swamp thing, but play that up as a plus—it’s exclusive, private property. You acquired it with the idea of selling it off into ranch-size estates, but one of your other projects in development has run into a cash-flow problem and when I said I’d hunt up an investment buyer for a piece of the pie, you went for it. A note of desperation—but like you’re trying to hide it—would be good there.”

“I can do that,” Kimmer said, so matter-of-factly that Karin immediately believed her. Unlike Dave, here was someone who could spin a convincing story.

Good.
Karin found herself relaxing. “If he pushes beyond that, I think you should contrive for an interruption of your choice. I’m going to try to nudge him into calling during our lunch meeting today, so I should be there to pick up wherever you leave off.”

“I can do that, too,” Kimmer agreed. “You have timing on this lunch?”

“One o’clock.” Karin checked her watch, alas, not a Tiffany’s. “Will that work for you?”

“My flight’s not till later in the day,” Kimmer said. “We should be good.”

Flight?

“But what if—”

“Once I’m back on the ground, I’m fair game. Multitasking is no biggie.” Kimmer’s shrug all but came through on the line. “Listen, don’t worry about it. It’ll work. And I owe this one to Dave. He really came through for me last year.”

Great. Mr. Rescue, coming through for everyone but himself. Because in the end, he was the one who’d made this harder. But Karin cleared her throat, expressed her thanks, left her cell number with Kimmer and hung up to head back to the hotel to put on her Maia Brenner suit.

Once she’d gotten back to the hotel room she decided to check in with Amy Lynn, but no one picked up. Not unusual. But given their last conversation…

She dialed her own number and punched in the answering-machine code, then hit the option for new messages only.

Gregg Rumsey’s voice blasted out at her loud and clear; she had to fight to keep from pulling the phone away from her face in pure revulsion. “Dammit to hell, Ellen, you’d better fucking call me before this day is out! I know those busy-bodies came here by way of Barret Longsford, and they’re in the way of my work. You find a way to call them off, or I’m heading east my own damn self to take care of things. This isn’t the way things work in this family!”

Sure they do, stepdaddy dearest.
He just wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of the inconvenience.

“Call me!” he barked, and slammed the phone down.

Karin did the same, flinging the cell phone into the bed pillows hard enough that it bounced high and came to a spinning halt in the middle of the bed. “Stay out of it!” she snarled at him.

For she had no answers that would satisfy him, and he was the only person in her life who had a chance of fingering her for Karin even over the phone. He’d wait not even a moment before calling the police to let them know she was still alive and ripe for their attention to the warrant. He wasn’t a man to forgive a grudge; he hadn’t even made contact with “Ellen” at Karin’s apparent death.