Thicker Than Water - DK5 (27 page)

Kyle gave him a withering look. “Of course there’s a point.

The governor’s going to make his announcement tomorrow, and if we don’t find a way to clean up little Mrs. Stuart’s family act, we’ve got a lot of money that’s going to pull out like gang-busters.” He picked up a folder and studied it. “I’ve already gotten calls warning me.”

“Well, sir, unless you can talk to Mrs. Stuart, I’m not sure we’ve got anything here.” The man sighed and dropped his pen-cil. “I’ve checked financial, legal, tax records, DMV, credit…I’ve never seen people so clean in my life.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Kyle put the folder down. “You can’t tell me a bitch like that doesn’t have some skeletons. I don’t buy it.”

“He’s right, sir,” said the older man, a gruff, bear-like figure with a thick, grizzled beard and shrewd eyes. “Here’s the file recap.” He handed it to Kyle. “High school valedictorian, graduated mcl from Miami, worked for ILS for sixteen years, never late on her taxes, no tickets, no police record except for—”

“Except?” Kyle glanced at him. “I knew there was something.

What is it?”

The aide shook his head. “An incident several years back involving some fight at a bar. Some kids got attacked.”

Kyle looked delighted. “By her?”

“No,” the man replied. “She defended them. Put two of the assailants in the hospital, despite the fact they were armed with shotguns. The cops gave her a glowing commendation.”

Kyle frowned. “That’s not the answer I wanted.”

The younger man shrugged. “Never even paid her electric bill
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late, sir. There’s just nothing there.” He shuffled some papers.

“And forget the parents. The mother’s Eastern money we don’t want to mess with, and the father’s got a military honor sheet longer than my leg.”

“Mmm.” Kyle’s face went still, only his eyes darting back and forth over the documents. “Real hero, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” The man nodded. “He was MIA for seven years.

Went in after a bunch of guys that had gotten captured and let himself get captured so they could get free.” He glanced down.

“Medal of Honor for that one, sir.”

Kyle snorted. The rest of the staff watched him uneasily.

“Well, if they won’t oblige us by handing us a scandal, I suppose we’ll have to manufacture one.”

The door opened. They all looked up to see Cynthia Stuart standing in the doorway, primly erect, her hands folded before her. She took a step inside and looked at all of them.

“Ah, Mrs. Stuart.” Kyle put on a charming smile. “We were just discussing transition plans.”

Cynthia closed the door and walked forward, scanning all their faces before she reached her late husband’s desk and stopped by it. “Please don’t waste your time. I’ve come here to inform you that you are all, as of this moment, fired.” She paused and took a pleased breath. “Please leave, or I’ll have security escort you out.”

For a moment there was nothing but shocked silence. “That would be
now
. At once.”

Stunned, they picked themselves up and edged out of the room. They jostled each other at the door and waited to clear it before uttering vicious whispers.

Only Kyle remained, staring at Cynthia with hooded eyes.

“I’m sure you don’t—”

“Most especially, I certainly do mean you as well, Mr. Evans,”

Cynthia said sharply. “It’s simply a pity that all I can do is fire you.”

Even Kyle was caught off guard by the icy tone. “You don’t know what you’re doing. I’ve got some information that could be very, very damaging—”

“I most certainly do.” She enunciated the words very carefully. “Roger is no longer here to protect you, and you will leave this house immediately, or I’ll have security drag you out of it and toss you over the wall.” Her voice rose. “You will not stay in my home one more second or visit even one more second’s abuse on my children.
Out!
”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed as he circled the desk. “Think you can just order me around like that, lady? Better think again.”

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He was stopped in his tracks, the back of his collar and belt held firmly and yanked, jerking him back several paces. A low, Southern-tinged drawl crawled over his shoulder.

“Ah do believe this lady asked you to leave.”

“Let me go.” Kyle struggled. He was jerked further back, where he collided with a large body.

“G’head.” Andrew lowered his voice. “Fight me, you bastard,

’cause I’m looking for one real small excuse to rip off yer arm and beat you with it.” The voice dropped further. “’Cause I can.”

Kyle stopped struggling, turned his head, and met Andrew’s pale blue eyes.

“And ah will,” Andrew rumbled. “Now, you figger my kid kicked yer ass round ’bout a year ago, and she’s a damn sight nicer than I am.”

For a moment, it could have gone either way, then Kyle glanced away. “If you put it that way, fine. I’ll be out of here as soon as I gather my gear. The information I have will certainly screw you over, too, you fucking sailor.”

Andrew swung him around and shoved him towards the door, adding a boot to the butt to hurry his progress. Kyle stumbled forward but caught himself on the chair, and, after grabbing his jacket, left the room without a single backward glance.

“Well.” Cynthia exhaled. “Thank you, Commander Roberts.”

She glanced at the door. “I’m afraid he might try to turn this to his advantage, however. He has quite a legal mind.”

“And ah have me a smart wife.” Andrew ambled across the room and drew back the heavy window curtains. Ceci slipped out, putting the cap on a small, nifty looking video camera. “Who don’t like to take chances.”

Ceci gave Cynthia a smile. “Well done. Couldn’t have done it better myself, though I suspect my daughter could have.”

Cynthia Stuart let out a long, relieved sigh. “I have so dreamed of doing that. For such a long time.” She collected herself and straightened. “I believe I need a drink after that, however.

Will you join me?”

“Absolutely.” Ceci curled her arm around Andrew’s and smiled. “We should talk.”

Andrew looked thoughtfully at the door. “Ya’ll go on; I’ll catch you up,” he said, gently disengaging his arm and heading after Kyle.

IT WAS DARK in the hall, but Dar’s night vision was up to the task. She glided down the steps on bare feet without a whisper of sound and crossed the huge foyer with a quick look in either
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direction.

The big house was quiet, but not silent. Its walls creaked, and there were soft sounds of cutlery clinking somewhere off to one side that indicated not everyone was sleeping. Dar paused in the doorway of the main hall to listen, only moving on when she was sure no one was headed her way.

She wasn’t even sure why she was doing this, except that she knew if she told Kerry what was going on, and she hadn’t even tried looking, her partner would be upset. It would be like she’d quit, and Dar clearly remembered Kerry’s reaction to that the last time she had just given up.

So here she was, slinking like a thief in the night, creeping across the marble floors to the door of Roger Stuart’s study. Again she paused to listen, one hand on the knob. Certain that she was alone, she opened the door, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her, thanking anyone who was listening that the hinges were well oiled.

The office was dark. Through one window, a bit of light from outside threw soft gray shadows over the room. A shiver went down her back as she imagined the room’s former occupant watching her malevolently from the next dimension, and the stirring of her usually dormant imagination almost sent her right back out of the room. Then her logic centers took hold and she forced herself towards the other end of the study.

Here, shelves of books and handsome oak inlaid cabinets lined the walls. Dar touched a few of the books, but they were mostly never read sets; the cabinets opened readily, displaying cut crystal decanters of whiskey and not much more.

She studied the desk, then turned on the desk lamp and bathed the surface in bright gold. The leather desk pad showed faint impressions, and if she looked at an angle, she could almost make out words, pressed there by a dead man’s hand.

One word caught her eye, she leaned closer, and touched the pad as she recognized—even with breaks and gaps—her lover’s name. But that was all she could make out, just the “Kerrison,”

and then part of one word, “bo.” For it to be there at all, it had to be recent.

As intriguing as that was, Dar reluctantly tore her attention from it. She pulled out a drawer and hunted through it, finding it mostly empty. The next, and the next were the same, and the fourth contained only a Bible and a folded wool sweater. “Least one of them’s useful.” But the papers she sought were not there.

She straightened, then froze, finding a pair of somber eyes looking back at her. “Ah.”

Kerry walked across the room and faced her across the desk.

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“What in the dickens are you doing?” She folded her arms.

Rats.
Dar leaned a bit on the desk top. “Thought you were asleep. I was just trying to clean up a detail or two.”

“Detail?” Kerry looked around and then back at her. “About what? Why are you in here, Dar? What are you looking for?” She kept her voice very low, though not quite a whisper.

Ah well.
She had been hoping to put off telling Kerry about Alastair’s call until they were on the way home. With the stress of being with her family so high, the last thing Dar felt she needed was to hear more trouble. Now, she had little choice.

“I’m looking for the papers I gave him,” Dar replied quietly.

“Alastair needs them. Otherwise, the deal is off, and I’m no longer your boss.”

Kerry’s jaw dropped, literally.

“And they’re not here. So,” Dar circled the desk, and turned off the light, leaving them in darkness, “let’s go back to bed. I can at least say I tried.”

“
Wait. I thought—”

Dar took her arm. “Word got out that the senator had them.”

She nudged Kerry towards the door. “C’mon. Don’t worry about it, Ker. Whatever happens, happens.”

Don’t worry about it.
Kerry felt numb. She’d woken in darkness to find Dar gone. Instinct had led her to the study, and now…

She sighed. Now, she almost wished she’d just stayed in bed.

“Okay.” It was all just too much. She wrapped her fingers in Dar’s nightshirt and let her lead her back upstairs to their room. “Were you serious about—?”

“Yeah,” Dar whispered as they nearly tiptoed down the hallway. “But it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Dar closed the door to their room behind them and put her arms around Kerry. “Yes, it is. I don’t regret any of it, Ker. Honestly.”

Kerry looked up into her eyes and read the truth there. Feeling the tears well up and the ache in her heart shortening her breathing, she put her palm against Dar’s cheek. “It’s not okay,”

she managed to get out. “Dar—”

“Shh.” Dar kissed her forehead. “I love you. That’s what matters to me. You matter to me. ILS can go jump off a bridge, for all I care.”

Kerry leaned against Dar and closed her eyes, surrendering to her own mind’s exhaustion. It was just a sucky end to a sucky day.

“STUPID BASTARDS...LITTLE whore bitch. Fire me, huh?”

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Kyle was furious. He threw his car into drive and headed through the intersection, foot pumping the gas as he just missed a man walking across the street. “Get out of my way, jackass.”

It was bitter cold out, and his hands were stiff as he curled them around the steering wheel. Of all the endings he’d expected for the night, this was the last he’d have imagined. From her? The milkmaid? The woman without two brain cells to rub together?

“Bitch.”

He knew what was behind it. No question. The little dyke whore daughter was behind it. She’d gotten to mommy dearest; probably brought up that old story about what he’d done to her.

Stupid kid.

It hadn’t even been memorable. At least for him. Just another nubile conquest, and he’d even convinced himself she’d enjoyed it. She’d been lusting after him anyway, right?
Yeah.

“Stupid bitch,” he repeated, cursing himself for the nth time for not getting back into the country just a week earlier. The sum-mons from the senator had sounded so important, so urgent. Stuart had wanted him there immediately.

Could it have been for the contracts? Lately, he’d started to get the feeling Stuart was putting him off, avoiding him since he’d been pushing that investigation so hard. But the sudden call had reassured him he was still in good graces, still needed.

Still important.

Well, at least he’d found a nest egg. Kyle patted his briefcase.

With what he had in there, he could blackmail himself into retirement, and to hell with it.

The road curved in front of him and he followed it, the snow covered fencing on either side whipping past as he sped up, enjoying the power of the car’s engine.

He never looked in the rearview mirror, so he never saw the cold blue eyes that rose up from behind him, or the long arm that reached across his body to grab the steering wheel. He merely felt a huge hand wrap around his mouth, cutting off his scream of alarm as the car swerved and plunged off the road in a moment of icy nightmare.

A huge, dark tree rose up in front of him and he couldn’t avoid it, the steering wheel held in an iron grip even as his foot came off the gas and he tried to brake. The front of the car imploded, crushing him from the waist down, in a wave of pain so intense he almost passed out. Almost.

The hand removed itself, and he screamed.

“Ah could jest leave your sorry ass here jest like this,” a voice said in his ear.

“Asshole! You bastard! Augh!” Kyle tried to turn to see his 164
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attacker, but he was pinned in place. “You son of a bitch!”

The blue-eyed wraith chuckled. “Yeap. Ah am an asshole, mister. Lotsa better men than you found that out.” Andrew clamped a hand on Kyle’s jaw and slammed it shut. “But I ain’t no bastard, like you are.”