Page 16 of Fire and Ice (Buchanan-Renard 7)

  Nothing could be more unpleasant than where he was being forced to go, thanks to the poker bet he’d lost. Alaska may be a beautiful wilderness, but he couldn’t even say the name of the state without mentally shivering. He hated the cold. Always had, always would.

  As it turned out, Pittman also wanted to talk about his leave of absence. Wanting to get him away from the media, she had approved his vacation plans, but now he was asking for something different.

  By the time he finished explaining where he wanted to go and why, including everything he had learned about William Harrington, Pittman appeared interested. A little too interested, he thought, which put him on guard.

  “Uh-hum, uh-hum, I see, I see,” Maggie said briskly. “You want to start your leave today, and you’re going to northern Alaska?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re traveling with Miss Sophie Rose?”

  “Yes,” he answered. Sophie just didn’t know it yet.

  “Agent Buchanan was just in here giving me an update. He mentioned that Miss Rose has been doing a little investigative work. She’s determined to find out why William Harrington went to Alaska.” Pittman shook her head. “Death by polar bear. That’s a new one for me. I think Miss Rose could write several interesting stories about the Arctic. Don’t you agree?”

  The ten-second rule had passed and Pittman was still looking at him expectantly. She actually wanted him to answer the question.

  “Yes, I’m sure she could.”

  “You know, Miss Rose needs continued protection. Don’t you agree, Agent MacAlister? Of course you do. Now, it’s my understanding that Agent Buchanan and Aiden Hamilton have been paying for security; well, now it’s time for us to take over. The woman’s taken one bullet, and who’s to say she won’t be taking another if she stays in Chicago. I’ve spoken to Detective Steinbeck,” she added, “and he admits they don’t have any significant leads. The shooter’s still out there.”

  She put her hand up to block any interruptions Jack might have wanted to make and continued, “We’re not interfering in the investigation. We’re just … observing. Detective Steinbeck knows he can call on us to assist …” she paused to smile and said, “to take over the investigation if need be. We’re not good at assisting, are we? We like to take charge because we know what we’re doing, and we get the job done. Isn’t that right?”

  Jack didn’t bother to nod. He simply waited for her to tell him his answer.

  “Yes, it is right,” she said before abruptly changing the subject. “By the way, do you have any idea how many hits there have been on that video you starred in? We’re over two million now and still climbing. I’ve had three major networks hounding me for interviews with you.” She held up three fingers and wiggled them. “You’re the new American Idol.”

  He groaned, and Pittman reacted with a glare. “One of my assistants asked me why we didn’t just shut down the video. I told her, why bother? By the time we found out about the thing, it had been downloaded to about eight hundred sights,” she exaggerated. “It’s all over the Web now. And as you probably know, we did try the it’s-all-a-hoax ploy, but that didn’t fly.”

  Pittman wasn’t one for idle chitchat. She’d brought up the video for a specific reason. Jack waited for her to tell him her real agenda.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Pittman’s assistant peeked in.

  “Is that the DVD?” Pittman asked. “Good … good. Thank you, Jennifer.”

  The woman handed Pittman a large manila envelope and left.

  She removed the disc from the envelope. “I want you to watch this in a minute. You’ll find it enlightening.”

  Jack hoped to God he wasn’t one of the stars on the DVD. His mind raced. He hadn’t shot anyone since the hamburger joint.

  “The video is the reason I’d like to start my leave today,” he reiterated.

  She shook her head. “No, you aren’t going to be taking a leave. You’re going to be working. Your new assignment is Ms. Rose, and she will be your sole responsibility. I don’t want anything to happen to that young woman. Now, I’ll bet you’re wondering why I’m so interested in keeping her alive, aren’t you? For one, she’s a U.S. of A. citizen, and we’ve taken an oath to protect our U. S. of A. citizens. For another, her father. That’s right. She can give me Bobby Rose.”

  Maybe in your dreams, Jack thought. “Sophie’s extremely loyal to her father,” he said instead. “She’s not about to hand him over to anyone.”

  Pittman tossed the DVD to Jack. “Put that in the player for me.”

  The television sat on the credenza behind her desk. Jack did as she requested while she pushed her chair back

  “I understand she’s loyal. She’s his daughter, and she loves him, right?”

  She didn’t even give him time to start the silent counting ritual.

  “Of course she does. Bobby Rose isn’t a wanted man, not at the moment anyway. I would just like to have a visit with him.”

  Yeah, right. A visit. Pittman was too smart to think Bobby Rose would say something incriminating. What else did she have in mind?

  She was now searching through the desk drawers looking for the remote that controlled the DVD player.

  “He’s been a person of interest too many times to count, and he did spend some time in a holding cell years ago. Couldn’t keep him there, though. Lack of evidence. Every time, it came down to lack of evidence. Of course, there’s also the fact that Rose is probably the most brilliant lawyer I’ve ever run across.”

  She located the remote in the center drawer crammed behind a manual, picked it up, and waved Jack back to the chair facing her desk.

  “We have had our differences with Mr. Rose.”

  Jack wanted to laugh. Differences? Various government agencies had been trying for years to put Bobby Rose behind bars.

  “He’s a bloodhound,” she said, nodding. “That man can sniff out money these criminals think they can keep for themselves. It doesn’t matter where they hide it; he finds it.”

  “Then he hides it and keeps it,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, he does, but we can’t prove that, can we?” She almost sounded as though she admired him.

  She rolled back in her chair and turned the player on. “Bobby sent this DVD for us. The DVD was delivered by messenger service, and when questioned the young man said he picked it up at the front desk of the Hamilton Hotel. No one behind the desk knows how the package got there. The beginning is from the local newscast two nights ago.”

  She pushed Play and the overly cheerful voice of a perky newscaster came on.

  “And now for an update on the closing of Chicago’s beloved root beer company. The bitter accusations are mounting, aren’t they Tom?”

  The screen flashed to Meredith Devoe and her attorney standing in front of the courthouse.

  “I’m thankful my father isn’t alive to see this. My soon-to-be-ex-husband has destroyed his company. My father trusted him,” she cried. She paused to dab at her eyes with a tissue before continuing. “He invested the employees’ retirement money in a risky stock fund. The values were overinflated, and now all is lost. Kevin Devoe should be behind bars because of his stupidity.”

  The reporter asked Meredith when she had last spoken to her husband.

  “I have not exchanged one word with him since I filed for divorce, and I hope I never have to speak to him again.”

  The attorney stepped forward to add his two cents. “My client is penniless, thanks to Kevin Devoe’s irresponsible behavior. He gambled and lost everything they owned.”

  Jack frowned at the DVD player. “Then who’s paying the attorney bills?” he asked.

  “I’d like an answer to that question as well,” Pittman agreed.

  The screen went black, and a second later Kevin Devoe was being interviewed.

  “I have done nothing wrong. Those stock numbers were inflated, yes, but all the reports indicated they were sound investments. It was Bobby Rose who drove the

price up. He got his money out and let the house of cards fall. If anyone should be taken to task, it’s him.”

  When asked how he felt about his wife’s accusations, he responded, “She’s a fool. Her father, Kelly, had faith in me. He was a good man, but his daughter … well, let’s just say she’s a hard, angry woman. I don’t know what I ever saw in her.”

  Pittman hit Pause, capturing and freezing Kevin Devoe’s sneer.

  “Note the date and time at the bottom of the next frame.”

  She pushed the Play button again. The next scene was a dark building that looked like a warehouse. A light hung above the single side door. A beat-up old Ford pickup entered the frame and pulled across the gravel parking lot to stop at the door. The date was yesterday; the time, 3:10 a.m. A man wearing a hoodie got out of the truck. He kept his head down until he heard a faint whistle. When he turned toward the light, his face was visible. Kevin Devoe. No doubt it was him. The door flung open as he rushed to it, and there, waiting with open arms in an open trench coat and little else, was Meredith Devoe. The greeting was hot and heavy.

  “Guess this can’t be shown on the six o’clock news,” Pittman remarked.

  “Maybe the porno channel,” Jack replied.

  The screen went dark and Pittman spun her chair around, emptying the rest of the envelope’s contents onto the desk. “Bobby Rose also sent us statement copies of three accounts, all with rather large sums of money. The accounts were under fake names, but our people checked. The money belonged to the Devoes … and you’ll notice I said belonged. The money was in the accounts, but it’s gone now. We tracked it as far as we could, and the only thing we’re sure of is that the Devoes didn’t withdraw it. However, I rather doubt either one of them will report it stolen.

  “I think the Devoes have been squirreling away Kelly’s money for years, enough to tide them over until they can get to the big money: the retirement savings. If they play the victim and cry that they’re penniless, people are less likely to accuse them of having anything to do with the lost retirement money. Those investment funds were stripped, all right, and I don’t think Bobby Rose had anything to do with it. Maybe I’m being naïve, but my guess is that Bobby Rose emptied these accounts and knows exactly where the retirement money is.”

  Jack thumbed through the stack of account statements. “You’re sure all of this came from Bobby Rose?” he asked.

  “Positive,” Pittman said. She picked up a folded card and handed it to him. “This came with the video and the records.”

  The card read: More to come. Bobby Rose.

  Pittman continued. “If history has shown us anything, it’s that Bobby Rose doesn’t let innocent people suffer. He’s got something up his sleeve, and we’re going to let this play out. And we’re also going to do right by his daughter, like we should have from the beginning. Plus, Rose will be grateful that we’re watching out for her.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ll protect her.”

  “See that you do,” Pittman ordered. “Jennifer has your schedule. Oh, and Agent MacAlister, one last thing …”

  Jack stopped at the door. “Yes?”

  “Watch out for polar bears.”

  JOURNAL ENTRY 516

  CHICAGO

  We have become masters of deception. Eric has a few friends from his old neighborhood who are willing to do anything for the right price. One of them has secured three healthy monkeys for us.

  We had come up with an elaborate lie to tell Eric’s friend, but he was only interested in the money and didn’t care what we did with the animals.

  He might come in handy in the future.

  SOPHIE FOUND OUT JACK WAS GOING TO ALASKA WITH HER when he showed up at her door and told her so. When the doorbell rang, she had assumed it was Gil. He had said he would be checking on her before she left for Alaska. He was such a nice man, he even offered to drive her to the airport tomorrow afternoon. She appreciated the kind gesture, but she suspected that at least part of his motivation was penance for squealing on her. Who hadn’t he told that she was heading to Alaska?

  Gil and his posse, as he liked to call his team, were still taking turns watching out for her. As long as the shooter was on the loose, Gil and his friends would be bodyguards. Alec and Aiden insisted on it. It was pointless to argue because they were going to do what they were going to do whether Sophie approved or not. Thankfully, once she was on the plane and away from Chicago, Gil’s services wouldn’t be needed.

  She should have looked through the peephole before she opened the door.

  “You’re early—You’re not Gil.”

  Jack looked exasperated. “No, I’m not. Move out of my way, Sophie.”

  She automatically stepped back, allowing him entrance—another dumb move. It would be easier to tell him to go away if he were in the hall.

  “I’m going to Alaska with you,” he matter-of-factly informed her.

  It took a couple of seconds for the announcement to settle. Reeling from the surprise, she protested, “What? No! You’re not going.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he replied. “I am, and that’s final.”

  Dropping his duffel bag in the foyer, he walked past her. She caught the scent of his aftershave. Very appealing … musky and masculine.

  Not relevant! her mind screamed. “You hate cold weather,” she said aloud.

  “Sure do.”

  “Then why—”

  “I’m going, Sophie. Deal with it.”

  Deal with it? I don’t think so. “I’m perfectly capable of traveling by myself,” she argued. “I don’t want anyone to go with me.”

  He tossed his heavy sheepskin coat on the back of her sofa. He was wearing a T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms and chest, and a pair of jeans that looked as though they’d been purchased at the fifth-hand store. Did the jerk have to be so … built?

  “Want and need are two completely different things,” he answered as he settled into an easy chair, kicked off his shoes, and reached for the television remote. “I sure don’t want to go with you, but here I am.”

  She took a tentative step forward. “You’ll just get in my way.”

  “I probably will, but I’m still going. What channel is the Food Network on?”

  “What … the food … ?”

  “Never mind, I’ll find it. You look a little confused. Have you packed yet?”

  Sophie continued standing in the foyer, stunned. “No … I’ll pack tomorrow. I don’t leave until late afternoon. Why is your duffle here?”

  “Our plans have changed, Sophie.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “Our plans? We don’t have any plans.”

  “Sure we do,” he said cheerfully. “We’re leaving on a seven a.m. flight to Fairbanks, which is why I’m spending the night.”

  This announcement sent her rushing into the living room. “That can’t be. I’m flying out tomorrow afternoon. I’ve already paid for my ticket.”

  She stopped in front of the television, blocking his view. He motioned for her to move to the left.

  “Ah, here it is,” he said. “Bobby Flay is doing paella. I’ve always wanted to know how to make it.” He added, “The transaction was voided.”

  She tried to clear her head. “It’s a nonrefundable ticket.”

  “I work for the FBI, Sophie. When I tell you the charge was erased, you can believe me.”

  Still incredulous, she asked, “Who changed my reservation?”

  She shifted from one foot to the other with her hands on her hips; her elbow blocking his view. Once again he motioned for her to move. She complied without thinking.

  “Jennifer,” he answered. “She made the reservations. Ah, man, look at that food processor. I’ve got to get one of those.”

  “Jennifer who?” Sophie’s frustration was brimming over.

  “I don’t know her last name.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “No, I really don’t.”

  Sophie took a deep breath. This

was maddening. None of it made any sense. She decided to approach the situation rationally. “Even if for some reason I have to take an earlier flight, there’s absolutely no reason for you to come along, and there’s certainly no reason for you to stay here tonight.”

  “Oh yes there is,” he countered. “If we’re going to make it to the airport on time, we’ll need to be out of bed by four-thirty a.m.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, never taking his eyes off the television as he watched Bobby Flay toss clams and lobster claws into the pan.

  “Just like that? Okay? No argument?” She was appalled by the disappointment she heard in her own voice.

  “No argument,” he said. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  Without a word, Sophie went to her linen closet and pulled out a thick down comforter and pillow. After dumping them on the sofa, she said, “This discussion isn’t over,” then headed to her bedroom and shut the door.

  She needed time to think. Why would Jack want to go to Alaska? He hated the cold. Alec had something to do with this; she was sure of it. She’d deal with him later. She had to think of a way to convince Jack to be reasonable and stay in Chicago, but for now she had a much bigger problem: Jack, just beyond the door, sleeping on her sofa.

  It was one thing for Gil to camp out in her living room. He was old enough to be her grandfather. He was also sweet. Jack, on the other hand, wasn’t at all sweet or considerate. He was rude, arrogant, and stubborn, but also sexy and gorgeous. Every time she looked at him, all sorts of crazy notions popped into her head … like jumping his bones.

  It was that kiss, that stupid kiss that made her curious to know what it would be like to sleep with him. No, not curious. Hot. Hot for him. And what did that say about her morals? She did still have them, didn’t she?

  Sophie was determined to stay away from him until morning. No waffling on that. She’d let him drive her to the airport, and on the way she would surely come up with something to make him change his mind.