“WHAT WE NEED to do is trap him. Use his own tools against him.” Sean spread out an array of equipment on Laurel’s kitchen table. “With a few tools of my own to help us out.” It was past midnight and neither of them was fully clad, but it had simply taken them a little while to make it out of her bedroom. Neither of them was complaining.
“You mean, blackmail him back?” Laurel asked, covering a yawn with her fist.
Sean grinned. “Basically, yes.”
“But won’t the Rochambeaus just come after me directly then? Or after my father, as a way of getting to me?”
“Not if we expose their deal with Bentley.” Sean knew about the campaign backing now, knew that Alan, in his frustration and desperation, had revealed to Laurel that day on St. Thomas that he “owed” the family too much at this point to find another way to deal with the situation. Laurel had been totally unprepared for his confession, had no way to prove he’d made it other than her word, something Alan had obviously been banking on. What he hadn’t counted on was that even knowing what kind of trouble he was in, Laurel wasn’t going to be swayed. That’s when the threats had begun.
Laurel had been prepared the next time they’d met. She’d played the tape of their bridge conversation for Sean, and he told her that he’d followed her that day. He’d also tailed Alan, in hopes of gaining more evidence against him. Which hadn’t been forthcoming. Sean had also used some of his contacts to see if there was anything floating out there in the intelligence community that might help him, but he’d come up blank.
They were confident they understood the situation Alan was in, and the lengths he’d go to, in order to see himself out of it in one piece…with a senatorial slot firmly in hand, no less. But they also knew they didn’t have enough to nail him. Yet.
“If we can prove the under-the-table connection between Bentley and the family, they’ll have far too many new headaches to worry about,” Sean told her. “Jack’s trial will definitely be halted. New charges will be filed—against him and who knows who else. Alan will be in the center of a media storm the likes of which he’s never seen before…none of it good.” He held her gaze. “And best of all, as a material witness, you won’t be trying any of their cases. That’s if they’re stupid enough to go to trial in the first place. That will be up to their attorneys and the state.”
Laurel shivered. “I just hope we’re not being stupid, thinking we can pull off this whole thing. Better people than us have tried to nail the Rochambeaus and failed.”
“Well, better people didn’t have Alan Bentley and his come-hell-or-high-water ambitions as their weak link, either.”
It was clear from the look on Laurel’s face that she didn’t consider Bentley as weak a link as Sean would like her to. He couldn’t blame her. The man had been terrorizing her for weeks now, putting the fear of God into her, not to mention a healthy dose of doubt where her father was concerned.
She leaned back and let loose a whooshing sigh. “It’s all a good plan, but I still don’t see how we can prevent him from taking my father down with him. He’ll start screaming he was set up and then claim my father played some role in it.”
“Why would he do that? The gig will be up at that point. He’ll have nothing to gain.”
“You don’t know him. He’ll use my father as a shield, to deflect some of the misery being piled on top of him. Trust me, Alan is a sore loser of the worst kind. He’ll find some way to play himself off as the victim in this whole thing. And my father will be the first place he looks for a prime patsy.”
This was the tough part. Sean knew he had a battle on his hands. And wearing her down with screaming orgasms ahead of time wasn’t going to help much. Although they were both decidedly more relaxed heading into battle. “I know you don’t want to confront him about this. But I don’t see where you have any choice. Yes, maybe Alan is bluffing about what he’s got on your dad, knowing you can’t prove there was no foul play and praying on your vulnerability, planting his nasty little seeds of doubt. You said yourself that you could find no proof your father did anything wrong.”
Laurel raked her fingers through hair that was long past tousled. “That’s just it. You’re right. I can’t prove he didn’t, either. His ruling on some of the motions filed…well, I don’t know what was said or argued in chambers before he made those decisions. On paper, some of them were pretty dicey, could have gone either way. In the end, they went the way that Rochambeau’s attorney hoped they would. Several key decisions, and he walked.”
“So maybe the state’s case was weak. Or maybe Rochambeau’s shark was just too good at playing legal roulette.” Sean leaned forward. “Otherwise, what you’re basically saying is that he ruled like he did for some other reason. Being intimidated by the Rochambeaus maybe—”
She shook her head. “Seamus Patrick? Hardly.”
“Well, then, that leaves them finding some other kind of leverage to use against him.” He looked at her intently. “Maybe they found his weak spot?”
She sat up, folding her arms around her middle, her face grim. “You mean me, don’t you? That they somehow used me to get to him? Made threats against me. I was in law school when he heard that case.” She slumped back. “I know it’s possible but I don’t even want to think that, Sean. I can’t imagine—”
“I know,” he said quietly. “You don’t want to. But isn’t that the very same thing that they, or Alan in their place, are doing to you now?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and Sean couldn’t stay sitting any longer, watching her go through this. No matter how necessary it was.
He moved behind the chair she was sitting in, massaged her shoulders. She was all knotted up. And after he’d spent all those lovely hours unknotting her earlier. “That’s the thing about all this, the thing that makes it all so vicious…yet so workable. We can’t know what they had on him then, if anything, or what to do about it, unless you confront him.”
She said nothing for a long stretch of time. He continued to work the muscles of her shoulders and neck, knowing she needed to sort this out on her own, make the only conclusion she possibly could…and accept it. Finally she sighed and said, “I don’t want to hurt him, Sean. I don’t want to hurt what he and I have—no matter what his answer is. And I have to believe, have to—” she balled her fists in her lap and her shoulders tensed once again “—that he’s innocent of all this. But if I ask him and, for whatever reason, he bears some culpability…then where do we go? I won’t risk his future.”
“What about your future? Would he expect you to sacrifice yourself for his political career?”
She leaned back, looked up at him. “Of course not. But I’m not sure I could live with myself if I was the one to end it.”
Sean moved around her then, crouched in front of her knees. “But you’re not ending it. If he did wrong, then he was the one who brought it on himself.”
“But maybe he had no choice!” she blurted, then shoved her chair back and began pacing the kitchen floor.
Sean watched her for a moment or two, then quietly asked, “You don’t really think he did anything wrong, do you?”
She kept pacing. “With my whole heart, that’s what I want to believe.”
“Are you more afraid of that, or of confronting him and having him realize that you ever doubted him in the first place.”
She stopped, her back to him. After several silent moments he saw her shoulders begin to shake.
Feeling like the worst kind of louse for pushing her so hard, despite the necessity of it, he went to her, took her shoulders in his hands, tugged her around even when she tried to shrug him off.
“Come here.” He pulled her stiff body close, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head down to his shoulder. “I’m not trying to hurt you. And I don’t want your dad hurt, or your relationship with him. But maybe, just maybe…” He leaned back, prodded her chin with his hand until she was forced to look up into his eyes. Hers were brilliant with un-shed tears and it about tore his heart in two.
It also made him more determined than ever to see both Alan Bentley and Jack Rochambeau rot in hell.
“Maybe you need to give your dad more credit. Tell him everything, explain everything. He’ll understand why you had to ask.”
She sniffled. “I don’t know, Sean.” She leaned into him. “I just don’t know.” He heard her silent tears and felt her body tense, trying to fight them off one more time. “If I do that…and I’m wrong about him…” She couldn’t say any more. And, finally, the tears won.
Sean wrapped his arms around her again, held her tight. This time her arms snaked around his waist and she clung to him just as tightly. He hated seeing her like this. Hated seeing how deeply this whole mess was torturing her. “Maybe,” he started, then stopped. It wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what was best…but he didn’t want her hurting any more than she already was. “Maybe we can handle this without Alan’s threat against your dad being made public. If we get enough on him, and handle it in just the right way, maybe we can shut him down. And shut him up.”
Her hold on him tightened.
He stroked her hair, stroked her back, wishing like hell he could promise her more. But one thing he knew from experience, they’d both feel better when they were actively working to put an end to this whole thing. Right now, what Laurel needed, what they both needed, was a plan of action.
“You recorded your conversation with Alan on the bridge. Do you think you can arrange another meeting there?”
Her tears had stopped and she’d begun to get a grip on herself. Slowly she pulled out of his arms and went to fish some tissues out of the box on the windowsill. After a very unladylike blow of the nose, which made them both smile briefly, she pulled the rest of herself together, squared her shoulders, and looked directly back at him. “Yes, I think I can do that.”
He marveled at her strength. Wanted to tell her then how proud her father would be to see how strong she was, to know her convictions and strength of character hadn’t been compromised despite the threat against her. He truly wished he could have convinced her to confront Seamus. He was certain, if the man was innocent, he’d forgive his daughter her doubts, considering the terrible strain she’d been under.
However, that slight possibility existed that he wasn’t innocent…and that would not only knock apart all of his future plans…but shatter Laurel’s heart, as well.
“What we need is an admission from him about the campaign contributions,” Sean said. “Specifically about their origin. If you can get any of the front company names, all the better. We’ll nail him for extortion and the rest of those bastards with him.”
She sighed. “It’s a tall order. Alan’s not stupid. But I can give it a shot.” She tossed her tissue in the trash. “Can you record the conversation from where you’ll be hiding? I don’t think I should take a chance on carrying a recorder this time.” She swore under her breath. “I only wish I’d had one on me the first time he made his threats.”
“I’ll wire the place beforehand. Don’t worry, we’ll get him. His arrogance, and his belief that he’s got you over a barrel with the threat against your father, will make him less careful than usual. If anyone can get him to talk, it’s you.”
For the first time in what seemed like ages, a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “So, are you suggesting I use my feminine wiles on him? Hell, that’s what got me into this mess in the first place. And I wasn’t even trying.”
Sean grinned. “You don’t have to.”
She rolled her eyes, then rubbed at her arms as if cold. Only he knew the chill had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.
“I’ll be right there, Laurel. Nothing will go wrong.”
“I wish I was as confident of that as you are.” She paced again. “We have other work to do. Or I do. I need to find out who we can take the evidence to afterward. I don’t know who I can trust in the department. It would be just my luck to pick the one guy who the Rochambeaus have in their pocket. I’m sure Bentley isn’t the only one. Just as I’m certain they haven’t gotten away with everything they’ve done for so long without some help inside the police department.”
With an adamant shake of her head, she crossed the room again. “No offense, but the federal guys will just make a nightmare out of this. My father’s entire career, both present and future, is in the balance here. I want as much control over how this situation is handled as possible.”
Sean crossed the room, pulled her back into his arms. “It will all work out.” He thought about the probable aftermath, the media storm when the news broke. And he knew it was going to get a lot uglier before it got any better. “Can I get you to promise me one thing?”
“I don’t know. Ask me.”
“If we think, afterward, that there is any chance that your father might either be involved or hurt by what we’re doing, then you have to go to him and tell him everything, so he’s at least prepared for the aftermath.”
She trembled slightly, but held his gaze, then gave him one short nod. “Yeah,” she said roughly. “I promise.”
Sean snugged her back against his chest, wishing like hell this was already over. Wishing like hell he could do more to protect her, to protect her father. At least there was something he could do about securing the area where Laurel and Alan were going to have their meeting. “Okay,” he murmured, his mind already spinning out all the possibilities for what he wanted done. “Let’s sit down and map out a strategy for what you’re going to say.” He pulled out the chair for her, then went to put on a fresh pot of coffee. It was going to be a long night.
IT TOOK ALMOST A WEEK to set up. A week of sleepless nights and a steady diet of coffee and antacids. Despite the fact that Sean had spent every evening and night with her, sneaking in and out like a thief each time, she was still jittery and slightly nauseous at the thought of what was about to unfold.
She stood in the middle of the backwater bridge, gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles hurt.
“He just pulled up,” came the soft words just above her ear, where Sean had wired her hair barrette with a microscopic speaker. “You’ll be great.”
She made a little snorting sound, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth anyway. Just hearing his voice, so calm and steady, was a tremendous boost. It made her glad Sean had come up with a way to keep them connected, even if it did make her a little more nervous about unintentionally giving him away.
She knew the area was wired to pick up even the softest spoken word. She wore only the small mike, which would go undetected even with relatively sophisticated scanners. Not that she expected Alan to have any such thing, but he’d been more than a little wary about meeting her here. She’d finally been forced to tell him that she was going to do what he wanted, but had some additional questions on how to handle certain potential obstacles and would feel more confident if they could have one last meeting to come up with a specific game plan.
He’d agreed, but she sensed this was going to be far harder than even she imagined. All his instincts were on red alert and she had no idea how she was going to get him to let down his guard enough to give her what she needed. Gain his trust, Sean had advised her. She fidgeted a bit, stared out at the slowly moving water as she tried to figure out just how in the hell she was going to do that. Barring that angle, her only other option was to spark a fight with him, to make him angry. Angry enough that he lost control.
Sean didn’t want her to go in that direction unless she felt it was absolutely necessary. But she wasn’t sure convincing Alan that she was now one hundred percent in his corner would encourage him to share any confidences. She strongly suspected she knew where this meeting was headed. She braced herself, took a strengthening breath, as he walked down the narrow park path toward her.
Her thoughts strayed to her father, to his unwitting role in all of this. Perhaps, at the very least, she could get Alan to relinquish more information on just what he knew about that old case that she didn’t. After all, with the added threat of her father’s life being on the line, perhaps he wouldn’t view sharing some of the other details as being all that detrimental to the hold he had on her. Alan was arrogant. That was a character trait she could exploit. And would.
“I was surprised to hear from you,” he said.
Laurel felt her knees knock, felt the muscles in her thighs begin to knot as she fought the shaking. “If we’re going to make this work, we have to have a game plan in place to deal with the various obstacles we’re most likely to face.” She kept her gaze directly on his, her tone brisk and totally businesslike. After all, to Alan this was a business transaction.
As expected, he registered a blink of surprise at her superior tone, then a smile of admiration. He believed he’d won. And that she wasn’t at all happy about it. Which was exactly where she wanted him. His arrogance had gotten him into this mess…and she was determined that his arrogance would also be her ticket out of it.
“Now that’s more in line with what I had in mind,” he said. “I’m glad you finally came around to seeing things my way.”
She lifted a shoulder in an insignificant shrug. “You left me with no other way to view it.”
He was smug, almost preening in his victory. “Well, there is that. And while I still see that temper of yours, simmering there beneath the surface, you can hardly hold me in contempt for my misdeeds, or any moral failing, seeing as we both now understand that everyone’s morals are up for sale. For the right price.”
She worked hard not to give away her anxiousness at the opening he’d just given her. “And just what was the going rate for yours?” she snapped. “Just how much did the Rochambeaus have to pitch in to the campaign coffers to insure a little inside help at the district attorney’s office?”
It was a bold move, but he’d opened the door. Could it really be this easy? She worked to keep her fingers from toying nervously on the railing.
Alan’s pause in replying only lasted several seconds, but it felt like several lifetimes to her.
“When you sell your soul, does the price tag really matter?” he replied, his face set in stone, cold, implacable.
For the first time she noticed a bit of that haunted look edging his soulless eyes. She was very familiar with the signs, having seen them staring back at her in the mirror every morning for the past several weeks. It wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for, but it was potentially damning. A good defense attorney could still spin it his way, though. She needed more.
“How can I be certain that if I do this for you, you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” she asked, back to business.
“You can’t.”
“Then why am I standing here?” She stepped back, as if to say he was wasting her time.
His smug countenance slipped just a little. But it was enough for her to realize she did have some leverage here. She’d dangled the possibility that she was prepared to deliver him out of hell and into a rosy future. Now that he’d tasted victory, he wouldn’t want to risk losing what he’d gained.
“What I’m asking,” she went on, pressing her advantage, “is for some show of confidence from you. That my father will be spared.”
“I think I can promise you that.”
“And that his reputation will remain unscathed during your campaign against him.”
Alan smiled and it made the hair on her arms stand on end. But it was a good reminder of just how evil this man could be. “I don’t know that I can give you that. The information I have is too valuable not to use to discredit my running mate.” He held up his hand. “And don’t cry to me about his sterling legacy. He was the one who made those decisions during that trial. I merely dug them up.”
“Exactly what did you dig up? I’ve done my own digging, as I suspect you know. And while I agree that some of his rulings bordered on questionable, we’re not privy to what was argued in chambers, what reasons he might have had for the decisions he made. Unless you know something more that I don’t.” It was a direct challenge. She held her breath, waiting for the answer.
“I think perhaps that question should have been directed to me.”
Laurel spun around, her mouth dropping open in shock to find her father stepping out on the path behind her.
It took considerable control not to swing her gaze to the spot where Sean was hiding. Had he done this? Would he have betrayed her like this? She knew, even in that split second of reaction time that he would only have done it to protect her, because he saw it as the only way to make certain this was completely over. But she wasn’t sure, even with good motives, that she’d be able to forgive him for doing this without telling her.
Her father stepped forward and her thoughts snapped back into focus. “Dad, what are you doing here?” She glanced at Alan, but his expression was just as confused and wary as hers likely was.
“We’ll discuss your reasons for keeping me in the dark about this little situation when this is all over.”
She started to argue, but he’d already turned his attention to Alan. “And you…I’d like to hear your answer, Mr. Bentley.” He moved until he was between the two of them. “What information is it you think you have on me? Because I’ll be more than glad to clear up any misconceptions you might have.”
From Sean’s position in the trees, about twenty yards away, he could only see the side of Seamus Patrick’s face. But he had clear access to Bentley’s. All of which was being recorded on film. He was as shocked as Laurel had been at Seamus’s sudden arrival. Of course, he’d had the benefit of seeing him arrive before either Laurel or Alan had noted his appearance, but couldn’t alert Laurel. Showing himself now might stop Alan from revealing the most crucial pieces of information they were likely to get.
He adjusted the frequency on his receptor to accommodate the more booming voice of Judge Patrick Senior.
“Just what is it you think you know about that trial?”
Alan visibly swallowed, but maintained a smug sort of defiance nonetheless. “I guess we’ll discover that when the campaign begins,” he boasted, the epitome of prosecutorial bluster.
Seamus chuckled, completely at ease. Sean’s heart began to pound. They were so close…so close.
“Oh, I don’t think that will come to pass, young man. Why don’t you share what you know now?”
Alan’s face had paled slightly at Seamus’s heartily spoken words. “I’m not some greenhorn, fresh from law school, Mr. Patrick.”
“‘Your Honor’ will do just fine. It’s a phrase you might want to reacquaint yourself with. For when you go in front of the judge to plea for your freedom.”
Now Alan drew himself up straighter and taller, appearing grossly offended. But through the scope, Sean could count the individual beads of sweat that had sprung up on Bentley’s pale brow. He grinned, figuring he deserved to enjoy himself a little.
“I can’t imagine what you’re referring to. I have done nothing wr—”
“Has it occurred to you that I didn’t just happen upon this little meeting by accident?”
Alan fidgeted with his tie, straightened his cuffs. “I assumed, despite Laurel’s pretense of surprise, that she brought you into this.” He turned toward her, regaining a bit of the arrogance Seamus’s sudden appearance had robbed from him. “You made a grave miscalculation, sweetheart.”
Sean gripped the scope more tightly, a split second away from coming through the trees and not stopping until he had Alan Bentley’s neck squeezed between his hands. But Seamus beat him to it.
He didn’t touch him. But then a man like Seamus didn’t have to, to intimidate. He stepped right up into Alan’s personal space, completely blocking Laurel and forcing Alan to step back.
“You cowardly little bastard.”
“Dad, don’t—”
He ignored her, continued putting himself quite impressively into Alan’s personal space. Sean glanced down at his other scanner, just to assure himself that his readings were right and Alan wasn’t carrying any weapon on his person, silently thanking the guys at Beauregard for letting him have access to such highly sensitive equipment. He’d thank them personally just as soon as he returned it before anyone noticed it had gone missing.
“I should have dealt with you directly the first time I got wind of your underhanded schemes. This will come as a surprise to you, I’m sure, but there have been people monitoring your actions for some time now.”
Alan scoffed, but there wasn’t much sincerity behind it. “Why should I believe that?”
“What you choose to believe is up to you, young man. But your days of blackmail and scamming are over.”
“In my line of work, we trust evidence. You’ll pardon me if I reserve judgment until I’ve seen a shred of it. Thus far, it’s all been words.”
“Sometimes, words are the most effective weapons. I’ve built my entire career on that belief.” Seamus smiled, then shook his head and turned his back on Alan, as if he were no longer worth his time or attention.
He looked at Laurel, who was standing there somewhat speechless by the whole display. “Dad, how did you know about—”
He put his hand on her arm. “We’ll talk about all that when this is done.”
“You might as well have your little conversation now,” Alan informed them, scraping together some semblance of superiority. “It might be your only chance.”
Seamus didn’t even bother glancing his way, which was the ultimate insult to someone like Bentley. His face began to turn red and his mouth tightened as if he were struggling to maintain his composure. “Do you not understand what I’m capable of? Who I am dealing with?”
Seamus said, “Excuse me” to Laurel, then turned to face Bentley once more. With his hands loosely linked in front of him, his legs braced wide, his demeanor so relaxed it bordered on jovial, Sean realized what an impressive prosecutor he must have made. And what a dangerous one he’d made, as well.
“I’m very aware of exactly who you are dealing with, although I’m not so certain you do. In fact, you might want to check in with them to see if they still feel your partnership with them is a viable one.” He glanced at his watch. “Although they might be a bit busy at the moment.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the raid presently under way on a warehouse about twenty-five minutes from here. If all goes well, any number of the Rochambeau ‘family’ members are being taken into federal custody as we speak. In fact, a few hours from now, I imagine they’ll be sufficiently caught up in trying to determine how to fight off the list of federal racketeering charges levied against them to not care overly much what trouble you may or may not be having with one recalcitrant judge.”
Alan swallowed hard then, and it was obvious he was scrabbling to gather every last scrap of bravado he had in him. “You must think I’m an idiot or something. You want me to think this is all over and give myself up.” He laughed, but there was nothing remotely jovial or self-assured about the sound. “Well, there’s something you should know about your daughter before you get too smug.”
Laurel put her hand on her father’s sleeve and began to move between them. Seamus held her back, but it didn’t keep her from speaking. “All I ever wanted was for you to leave me alone. You refused. You dragged me into this because you were too weak to climb the ladder on your own strengths.”
He snorted, then swung his gaze to Seamus. “I don’t know if she told you, but she was here cutting a deal with me to get Jack Rochambeau off—again,” he added with a sneer. “I guess it’s something the Patricks make a habit of. I’m not the only one climbing into bed with the ‘family.’ In fact, it’s getting mighty crowded in there.”
Seamus reached for Bentley.
Laurel shrieked.
Sean came out of hiding.