“A three-hour drive?” Scarlett exclaimed when Xander revealed their travel plans for the day. “Why?”
“Because the reporter wasn’t willing to risk being seen with me and the location is abandoned so it’s unlikely anyone will see us coming or going.”
“Sounds like a trap,” she grumbled, tucking her gun into her hip holster and pulling her hair up into a tight ponytail. “And you trust this reporter?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Xander answered, holstering his own weapon. “But I need answers and this woman seems to be willing to give them to me, so I’m going where she tells me to.”
“But why is this reporter willing to give you information?”
“Because I’m paying her a lot of money.”
Scarlett was impressed. “Seriously? I thought that only happened in the movies.”
“Turns out greed is a very real motivator and reporters don’t make jack shit these days so...it’s almost a public service. I’m helping to keep journalism alive.”
“That’s a stretch,” she quipped with a dry smile. “But it works out in your favor that you managed to find a reporter whose integrity was for sale.”
“You’d be surprised how easy those are to find.” Xander winked.
Xander’s reason made a certain level of sense, but a three-hour drive to some abandoned place seemed like a bad idea. They were between a rock and a hard place given it would’ve been personally safer to meet in a public place, but the very thing that made it safe also made it risky.
Scarlett smothered the urge to growl with frustration. She hated feeling vulnerable and went out of her way to ensure that she had the best handle on any given situation, but that wasn’t going to happen with this circumstance. Better get used to it.
“Fine. I need coffee,” Scarlett grumbled, sliding into her jacket, thumbing her nose at the sludge offered in the room. “Whatever that is...is not coffee and I’m going to need the real deal if we’re going on a road trip to BFE.”
Xander crooked a grin that sent tiny sparks straight to her empty belly. “Think of it this way. You get to see parts of Oklahoma you’ve never seen before.”
“Pardon me while I rein in my excitement.”
He laughed. The sound coaxed a grudging smile on her part. That was the thing about Xander; he had this way about him that made people forget why they were pissed at him.
It was that skill that had probably kept him alive all this time.
They climbed into the car, stopped by a roadside stop-and-rob and then hit the road. Three hours in a car with Xander sounded like psychological torture but she’d endured worse.
But when he cranked the country music, she had to reevaluate that assumption.
After twenty minutes of country crooning, she’d had enough and purposefully clicked off the radio. “Look, we should use this time to go over the case,” she said, ready to do something productive.
“I have a better idea, let’s just enjoy the ride,” Xander said.
Scarlett exhaled with mild annoyance. “This isn’t a Sunday outing. I don’t know why I hear the ticking clock more loudly than you, but it’s all I can hear. We need to go over the case until we know it by heart.”
“What makes you think I don’t already?” he said quietly.
Scarlett fell silent, digesting his retort. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve probably gone over the facts in this case until you’re cross-eyed but I can’t just sit in the car, listening to tunes like we’re out for a picnic more than your ass is on the line.”
“I didn’t ask you to come with me,” he reminded Scarlett. He wasn’t being a dick about it, just stating facts. “Maybe I need a break to just coast for a minute.”
She opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been going through since the moment he found out someone was gunning for him.
Being former military, it wasn’t hard to slip into that mode where no one outside of your unit was beyond suspicion, but that level of paranoia took a toll on the psyche.
Keeping your head on a swivel at all times did something to you as a human being, which was why most of Red Wolf was comprised of people who found civilian life difficult.
Drawing a deep breath, Scarlett rubbed her palms down her jeans and said, “Okay, we’ll do this your way, for now, on one condition—” she cut Xander a sharp look “—no more country music. It’s classic rock or silence.”
He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it.”
Xander punched in a rock station and grinned as Scarlett relaxed and nodded in approval as classic rock filled the car.
An hour went by and Scarlett turned the music down.
Xander sent a playful glance her way. “Ready to give country another shot?”
“Hell, no.”
“Okay, well, silence will drive me batty.”
Scarlett suddenly realized it bothered her that she knew what Xander sounded like when he climaxed but she didn’t know much more about him aside from what she’d read in his personnel file.
And he knew more about her than she ever shared with anyone and it wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t like she went out of her way to know her team on a personal level, which is why sleeping with one of her team members had been a bad idea, but what was done was done.
And she was a little old-fashioned about some things.
“I need to know more about you, Xander.”
“More? Like what? You’ve read my file. Not much more to tell.”
“Bullshit. You and I both know that’s not an accurate portrait of a person. If I were to go off your psych eval, I would say you’re a narcissistic asshole but I know that’s not true.”
“I’m telling you, that doc had it in for me,” Xander said. “Crack one off-color joke and it’s ‘no soup for you.’”
Scarlett smothered a laugh at his Seinfeld joke. “Okay, so tell me about yourself.”
“Would you like to know what’s on my dating profile?” he teased.
Scarlett blushed and shook her head. “God, no,” she answered quickly, but then a part of her wanted to ask how in the hell he managed to date in their particular line of work. Each time she attempted a dating profile, she ended up sounding like the most generic person in the world because she couldn’t afford to put real details out there on the web. “I mean, tell me how you ended up going the military route.”
Xander frowned, clearly not his favorite bedtime story. She half expected him to decline and change the subject or worse, return the radio to country but he surprised her with an answer.
“Kinda like your story. Dad was an abusive dick. Didn’t have the means to go to college, not that I would’ve been able to handle more school, but the army was my ticket out of hell. I took it without looking back.”
“Is your dad still alive?”
“No. He died when I was overseas. Felt weird to get the message. I mean, I’d prayed for the man’s death more times than I could count when I was growing up but when it actually happened, I was numb. Kinda disappointing, really. That was the biggest reveal. I thought I’d feel more. Relief, maybe? Or joy, even? But nope, I felt nothing. My LT gave me the message and ten minutes later I was back on the job.”
Scarlett understood the numbness Xander had felt. She’d felt the same when her own father had died.
She’d long come to the conclusion that people who were damaged had two choices: wither and die, or deal with it.
Her way of dealing with the abuse at her father’s hands was to walk away and never mention the man’s name ever again.
“Funny how the mind works,” she murmured. “I didn’t feel anything either when my old man kicked it.”
Xander nodded, understanding. “I think I felt nothing because he’d become nothing to me. He was no longer my father. The military became my family. My brothers and sisters in arms... They were the ones who had my back. Unlike that asshole who’d done nothing but beat me black-and-blue until the day I was too big and he realized I’d tear him up if he laid another hand on me.”
Scarlett would like to say that their stories were the exception but there were plenty of military people with similar backstories. If military life wasn’t ingrained in a person from childhood, signing a blank check to the government took some balls or some other driving force, and sometimes that driving force was desperation.
She would’ve done anything to escape her father. It just so happened, a recruiter caught her ear senior year at career day and she’d been in a frame of mind to listen.
It’d been the best damn decision she could’ve made. Otherwise, she might’ve ended up a statistic.
“I hope he’s roasting in hell,” Scarlett said with a shrug. “My only regret was not being there to watch the light fade from his eyes.” Xander nodded without judgment. It felt good to admit her feelings, even if they were savage. “If there’s any justice, he’s in hell getting his pecker lopped off over and over and over in an endless loop of pain and humiliation.”
She waited for the internal cringe at sharing more of her true feelings but nothing happened. If anything, she felt relieved.
Scarlett never talked about the sexual abuse by her father, but its lingering effects had ruined plenty of potential relationships. At the end of the day, it’d seemed better to remain single.
Less questions, less drama.
But it sure got lonely and when loneliness struck, it was difficult to rein in those feelings of need.
Especially when you end up slugging back tequila shots with a man you’ve been smothering an attraction for since the day you first crossed paths.
“I want you to know that I’m sorry for the way I acted the morning after that night,” she said, venturing with hesitation but still needing to say something. “I was really rude to you and I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got no reason to apologize. We’re both adults. My feelings weren’t hurt.”
She glanced at Xander. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean, I get it. You’re my boss. We can’t be hooking up like regular people. You needed an itch scratched and I was there.”
Well, it wasn’t quite that cut-and-dried. It wasn’t as if she would’ve gone home with CJ or Zak or even Laird, but it was probably in everyone’s best interests if she just agreed. “I’m relieved you understand.”
He shrugged. “Sure. Now, I won’t pretend to understand why we can’t do it again—you’re not my boss right now—but I’m respecting your position and I’m not going to push it.”
She wasn’t one to be wishy-washy but a part of her was wavering in her resolve. Xander made a certain amount of sense. Right now, they were in suspended animation. She wasn’t his boss and he wasn’t her team member.
Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be with him so what was to stop them from taking advantage of the situation to their benefit? It was only temporary and Lord knew they could both use a little stress relief, as Xander had pointed out, but there was a tiny part of her that worried her feelings went a little deeper than physical need. She craved Xander’s touch on a level that went beyond simple lust. Hell, the idea of just lying together, arm in arm, was like warm sunshine on her face.
Which was exactly why they needed to avoid each other in that capacity.
Except... She shook her head, confused at the direction of her own thoughts. It wasn’t like her to go backwards on a decision but the memory of Xander was too strong to fight.
Maybe if she stopped fighting, she could spend that energy elsewhere...like doubling down on finding who the hell had framed Xander in the first place.
Yeah, that made sense. The band that’d felt wrapped around her chest snapped and she drew a deep breath. As much as she hated to admit it, Xander was right. Seemed kind of hypocritical to say she wouldn’t sleep with Xander again because she was his boss when she was willing to break multiple laws to prove he was innocent.
So...sleeping with Xander was back on the table.
But she wasn’t ready to say it out loud. Not yet. The last thing she wanted to see right now was Xander’s gleeful smirk because Lord only knew he’d probably anticipated her about-face.
Instead, she changed the subject. “What do you know about this reporter?”
In all the time he’d been working with Scarlett, there were still things about her that were a mystery. The reveal about her childhood made him sad, but he wasn’t surprised. Life had a tendency to harden people and Scarlett was made of granite.
Still, it bothered him to know that as a child she’d suffered at the hands of someone who was supposed to love her, just like he had. They were like two lost kindred souls, battered and bruised yet determined not to give in. Maybe that was the thing about her that he admired the most.
If he were being honest, he’d had a thing for his TL since day one. But he’d known messing around with a superior was against protocol, so he’d pushed those feelings way down and his method had been working until that night.
His back twinged, reminding him that he needed to take another dose but he didn’t dare take one in front of Scarlett. If she saw him popping a pill she would ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Knuckling down, he ignored the dull roar of pain and focused on answering her question.
“I don’t know anything about this reporter. All I know is that she’s been writing for the Tulsa World in the political section for at least three years and she seems smart. She also agreed to take the money in exchange for information, so there is that.”
Scarlett frowned. “Does she know who you are? Does she know you’re a federal fugitive?”
“I didn’t actually mention that part.”
“If she’s as smart as you think she is, she will have already figured that out.”
“Please. This ain’t my first rodeo. I gave her a false name. I told her I was looking into the death of McQuarry, hinting that I knew about a bigger conspiracy and of course, she ate it up. I don’t know of any reporter who doesn’t salivate at the mere hint of a conspiracy theory.”
“And she bought that?”
“Of course, I also told her I was doing research for a tell-all book and she immediately started talking about the book she wanted to write, too. I swear, are all reporters frustrated novelists?”
“I don’t hang with journalists so I couldn’t say one way or another. I think it’s safe to say you’re taking a risk. If she’s as broke as you say she is, if she finds out about the bounty on your head, she might double-cross you, screwing us both.”
“There’s a bounty?” Xander seemed impressed. “Yeah? How much? Maybe I’ll turn myself in.”
Scarlett laughed. “Ten-thousand dollars.”
Xander balked. “Are you kidding me? I’m worth way more than that.”
Amused, Scarlett agreed but added, “By my way of thinking, they can’t put a huge bounty on your head without raising questions. So if you’re right and you are being framed, whoever’s pulling the strings is going to do whatever they have to to keep this quiet and that includes flying under the radar.”
Xander saw Scarlett’s logic but knowing he’d been stuck with a bargain basement sticker wasn’t a nice feeling. “I’m still insulted.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes at his ego. “Get over yourself. It’s not about the money. Do you have a backup plan in case this reporter double-crosses you? What if we get there and the place is surrounded with cops and FBI?”
“Ye of little faith. Do you really think I would walk into an ambush? Please. I’m the one who suggested the location.”
“You said she picked the place,” Scarlett said with a scowl.
“She did, but I may have made a suggestion as to why it was a good idea that may have tipped the scales.”
“And the reason you picked this place?”
“It’s a good defensible space, plus there is excellent line of sight from the south side, which is where we’re meeting.”
Was that admiration in her eyes? God, he hoped he wasn’t wrong about this meeting. A part of him worried that the reporter was sharper than he figured. His saving grace was that his mug likely hadn’t been released just yet to the general public so only law enforcement and government agencies would have his information.
Hopefully, luck was on his side—that would be a welcome change.
“So what conspiracy did you dangle in front of this reporter?” Scarlett asked, curious.
“I was really just being vague and took a chance on what most politicians are hiding—sexual misconduct. I must’ve said the right thing because judging by the change in her tone, I’m pretty sure her eyes lit up like a Christmas day parade at the juicy prospect. To be honest, I’m kinda curious as to what information she’s bringing.”
“Sexual misconduct,” Scarlett chuckled, equally amused. “At this point, I think people expect politicians to have skeletons and half the fun is wondering when those bones are going to rattle and give them away.”
“True enough.” He really didn’t care about McQuarry’s sexual misdeeds; he just wanted information that might give him a direction. Someone had wanted McQuarry dead and they’d been willing to go to great lengths to see it happen. Digging into McQuarry’s secrets was the best way Xander could think of to find who might benefit the most from McQuarry’s death.
Finally, the abandoned school came into view and it was creepy as shit.
He caught Scarlett’s look and nodded, silently agreeing that this was the kind of place where souls went to die. If he were the sort who believed in ghosts, Dearborn Reformatory could serve as the poster child for a place to avoid if you didn’t want to die a grisly death.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Scarlett announced after a good solid perusal. “What was this?”
“Believe it or not, a school for Native American kids. Specifically, Cheyenne and Arapaho because back in the 1900s it was considered bad form for Indian kids to speak their native language. The kids were sent here for assimilation into society, even going so far as punishing them for trying to hold on to any part of their culture.”
“That’s barbaric,” Scarlett murmured, taking in the desolation of the abandoned place. “No wonder this place gives off a bad vibe.”
“Yeah, not exactly the nicest place to send kids. They must’ve been terrified,” Xander agreed but a car was coming toward them, cutting short their history lesson.
Instantly on alert, Scarlett faded into the background to provide cover should things go south as well as protect her identity and involvement.
A short woman with a spiky blond haircut exited the dirt-covered sedan and began to make her way toward the entrance to the school, tentatively calling out, “Mr. Jones? Are you here?”
Xander could practically feel Scarlett’s derision at his obviously fake name but he’d been pressed for time and couldn’t get creative.
She stepped over the threshold of the building and finally saw Xander. “Oh! There you are. I was starting to think you might’ve changed your mind.”
“Not me. I’m here for the juicy details.”
The woman tittered, glancing around to ask tentatively, “Did you bring the money?”
Xander fished out the cash-stuffed envelope and handed it to her. She paused, tempted to count the money but then must’ve decided Xander looked trust-worthy enough and stuffed the money into her purse. “I’ve never done anything like this, just so you know. I’m a reporter with integrity. I’ve never in my life given out information like this. I believe in journalistic integrity. It’s very important to me.”
The fact that she was repeating herself was proof enough that she wasn’t experienced but that worked in Xander’s favor. If she wasn’t in a habit of selling information, then it was likely her intel, to the best of her knowledge, would be legit.
Xander nodded as if he cared and then said, “Tell me about McQuarry’s dark secrets.”
“It feels wrong to speak ill of the dead, especially in this place. Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Jones?”
“Uh, no,” Xander answered, trying to steer the conversation back to McQuarry. “What was in his closet?”
The woman glanced around as if afraid the senator’s ghost was going to pop out from behind the wreck and ruin of the former school and steal her soul, but she answered in a hushed tone, “I have it on pretty good authority that Senator McQuarry was having an affair with a young intern.”
On the surface, the intel was meh. What politician didn’t dip their wick in the company inkwell? But seeing as McQuarry was running on a family values platform, that could prove to be useful information. “Got a name?”
“Again, this isn’t substantiated but the rumor was that Lana Holbert was putting in more than just after-hours support for the senator. McQuarry always made provisions for her travel and she was always in his company.”
“But as his intern...wasn’t that part of her job?”
“Trust me—she was doing more than file paperwork. I have a witness who swears he caught her under McQuarry’s desk late one night when everyone else had left the building. I’ll give you two guesses as to what Miss Holbert was doing under that desk and the first guess doesn’t count.”
Xander could put two and two together. “Okay, assuming it’s true that McQuarry and his intern were doing the nasty after hours... So what? That’s not enough to want a man dead. Especially in the way that McQuarry went down. I mean, the man was blown to bits.”
The woman shuddered. “Yeah, it was awful. His family must be devastated. No matter the man’s faults, someone still loved him. He was a family man—married to the same woman for twenty-five years with three kids—I’m sure they’re grieving.”
Xander nodded. Jealous wife, maybe? But then what would that have to do with him?
Then it occurred to him, “If Holbert was always around McQuarry, why wasn’t she killed in the bombing?”
“According to reports, she was sick that day. Caught that terrible flu that’d been going around. Who knew the flu would save her life?”
Yeah, sure. Or maybe she’d been tipped off that something was going down and she ought to make herself scarce. He made a mental note to track down Lana Holbert for some questions of his own. “You got anything else for me?” he asked.
“I don’t know if you know much about McQuarry but he was a real piece of work. He was all smiles, hug-the-babies and shake hands when he was on stage but behind closed doors...he was a pervert.”
“First-hand knowledge?”
“Yeah, he tried to grab my ass during an interview. I got out of there as fast as I could. I couldn’t believe he would try something so blatant. I mean, he’s a freaking senator with a reputation to protect, but he didn’t seem to care. Actually, he seemed pretty insulated against consequence, which I found even more distasteful. So I left and never went back.”
Xander chewed on that information. A senator with a tendency to play grab-ass wasn’t uncommon, either. Frustration welled beneath his breastbone at the anemic leads this meeting had given up. “Anything else?” he asked, almost desperately. “Anything at all?”
The woman pursed her lips in thought, then said, “Well, I don’t know if it’s anything major but McQuarry was said to be closing a deal to bring a manufacturing plant to Oklahoma, trying to bring industry back when it left for Mexico for less stringent regulations. But now that McQuarry is gone, I doubt it’s going to happen. The governor just appointed Carl Sheffton as his replacement until a special election can happen, and Sheffton and Senator Williams have both been very vocal in their opposition against the project.”
“Why so? Bringing jobs to a depressed economy is a good thing,” Xander said.
“Sheffton alleges that the manufacturer eyeballed for the deal is known for environmental infractions. I’m talking toxic-waste-level exposure. Sheffton said inviting Wakefield Industrial into any Oklahoma city would be like feeding our kids cancer by the spoonful.”
“That would definitely not be a selling point,” Xander agreed, thinking. “How close was McQuarry to closing this deal?”
“I wasn’t privy to the details but sources say he was pretty close and stood to make a substantial sum of money from the deal.”
“A kickback?”
“Without using those exact words, yeah.”
“If the governor appointed Sheffton, he must not be on board with the Wakefield deal, either.”
The woman shrugged, unsure. “Honestly, I don’t even know if the governor knew about the Wakefield deal, but all Sheffton had to do was make himself look like the best candidate in the interim, therefore freeing up the governor to deal with other things. Once Sheffton hit the office, it was short work for Sheffton and Williams to shut down the deal.”
“And how exactly would he have managed that if the deal was close to closing?”
“McQuarry had offered certain tax credits if Wakefield chose an Oklahoma location, but my guess is that Sheffton and Williams withdrew those tax credits, which would’ve been a major incentive to set up shop here rather than Mexico.”
“Let’s get real. Politicians don’t care about people. What’s the real reason Sheffton and Williams wanted to axe the deal?”
The woman smiled, impressed. “The real reason? The oldest motivation in the book—money. Neither Sheffton nor Williams was cut into the deal, and they weren’t about to let McQuarry rake in the dough while they got nothing.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
Greed was the most powerful motivator—powerful enough to create killers out of suit-wearing politicians.