Dark of the Night Page 2

  “Don’t be.” His smile was slow, sultry, his eyes raking over her, his hand tightening on hers. “There are benefits to everything, Ms. O’Brien. One simply has to find them.”

  “And I’m sure you’re very good at that.” She narrowed her eyes, her voice one degree colder than frigid.

  “I haven’t had any complaints.”

  She swallowed, trying to wrench her gaze away from his, to find a way to gain the upper hand against this man. Which was probably laughable considering the fact that he’d managed to charm Edna Winston into introducing him. Edna was anything but an easy mark.

  “I’d volunteer to leave,” Edna interjected with a wry smile, “but I have an article to write.”

  Riley pulled herself together, embarrassed at the turn of her thoughts. She never let anyone get to her. Not romantically, not sexually, not any way. Ever. And certainly not a reporter. Heavens, she might as well commit political suicide, and take her father right along with her. She was made of sterner stuff.

  “Do sit down.” Waving at the sofa, she settled herself into an overstuffed chair, keeping her face pleasant, noncommittal. “I’ve only got a few minutes, so why don’t we get right to it.”

  She sat back, firmly in control again, feeling regal in the wing back. It had been purposefully arranged at just the right angle, the soft light accentuating her to perfection. Sometimes she wondered what the world would think if they could see the real Riley, without the makeup, lighting, and scripted words. Fortunately, it was an idle thought. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

  Not the world. Not Jake Mahoney.

  No one.

  Not if her father was going to be the next President of the United States.

  Jake fought for breath, wondering what it was about her he found so compelling. She was a gorgeous woman, but beautiful had stopped doing it for him a long time ago. It was something more, something there in her eyes. Something that called to him.

  He shook his head, aware that he was behaving like a befuddled adolescent. Edna was almost smirking. Observant old biddy. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a little notebook. All he had to do was keep his focus, get the damn interview, and he was finished with the lethal Ms. O’Brien. Next time Walter called in sick, someone else could pick up the slack.

  “Jacob writes for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.” Edna shot him a look he couldn’t read and waited, eyebrows raised.

  “Really?” Riley’s comment was polite, her interest obviously feigned. “I thought Walter Finley covered elections.”

  “He’s—indisposed.” Jake studied her, wondering if there was fire under all that ice. “I’m subbing. I usually cover homicides.”

  “More comfortable with the dead?”

  “They rarely talk back.” He lifted an eyebrow, watching the muscles in her neck contract as she swallowed. He was making her nervous. The thought amused him.

  Edna shot him a look, and took control of the interview, launching into a series of questions about Carter O’Brien’s plans for Social Security.

  Jake took notes by rote, dutifully writing down Riley’s answers, his eyes still studying her face. At close inspection it more than lived up to the promise it had held in the larger arena. She was beautiful, all right. Her skin flawless, her long blond hair swept back to reveal a natural widow’s peak.

  Her eyes were by far her most arresting feature. Large, almost dominating her face, they were a peculiar shade of gray, so pale they were almost devoid of color. Like silver—quicksilver. He frowned, staring at the gibberish he’d written on the page.

  Son of a bitch.

  He looked up in time to see the corner of her mouth quirk in a half smile, her eyes knowing. She obviously thought she had the upper hand. A challenge if ever he’d seen one. With a slow smile, he took a deep breath, and aimed for the jugular. “Has it ever occurred to you, Ms. O’Brien, that your father is using you? Exploiting your relationship in an effort to gain the presidency?”

  There was a moment of shocked silence, Edna’s gaze unreadable.

  Riley flushed red, then turned white, her silver eyes flashing first surprise, then hurt, and finally anger. “My father is an honorable man, Mr. Mahoney. And he loves me very much. We are a family. And that means we make sacrifices for one another. Make no mistake, I do what I do because I want to.”

  Riley paused a moment, fighting for control, a calculated mask of polite indifference replacing her anger. “I can’t imagine any life other than the one I have. And I know there are thousands of women in America who would love to trade places with me. There is nothing exploitative about our relationship, Mr. Mahoney.” Her face remained composed, but her eyes shot daggers. “He’s my father. And if I can repay him in some small way for giving me such a wonderful life, then you can be certain I do so voluntarily and with great pleasure.”

  The lady had spunk, he’d give her that. And Edna was right—she was a pro. Which only made him admire her more. Damn it.

  Edna stood up, closing her notebook. “I think that’s enough for today.” There was censure in her voice. Censure for him.

  Jake scrambled to his feet, in shock. Edna should have been applauding him. In fact, had it been anyone but Riley O’Brien, she’d have been right in there with a follow-up. Edna wrote a hard-hitting political column for Georgia Today. And her usual mode of operation was to take no prisoners.

  Obviously, her friendship with Riley was more than superficial.

  “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Edna.” Riley’s smile started out genuine—and dazzling—but when she turned to him, it faded, her eyes turning glacial, her distaste clear. “Enjoy your bodies, Mr. Mahoney.”

  Who the hell did she think she was? The fucking queen of England? Christ. He shook his head, pushing his anger aside, reminding himself that in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter what she thought of him. It didn’t matter at all. He didn’t need her kind of trouble. What he needed was to stay as far away from the woman as possible.

  “Perhaps we’ll run into each other again.” Her words were emotionless, politically correct. A dismissal.

  “Not if I have my way, lady,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Her eyes widened, unguarded for just a moment, and what he saw there almost took his breath away.

  “Interesting man.” Maudeen Drake steepled her fingers, elbows resting on the arms of her chair. “Wonder why in the world Edna brought him here?”

  Riley shrugged. “With Edna there’s no telling.”

  Maudeen’s eyes narrowed in thought. “True enough, but she never does anything without a reason. And I, for one, would like to know what it was.”

  “Well, I think we can safely assume it wasn’t due to Mr. Mahoney’s charm.”

  Maudeen’s eyebrows rose. “Were you in the same room I was? I may be over the hill, Riley, but the sparks between the two of you could have lit up a third world country.”

  “Your imagination was working overtime, Maudeen. I hardly gave the man the time of day.” Riley waved a hand airily, pretending disinterest, knowing she wasn’t fooling the older woman for a second.

  There had been sparks flying, but Riley wasn’t about to admit it. Jake Mahoney was trouble of the worst kind. Not that it mattered, because, despite what she’d said, it was unlikely they’d ever run into each other again. They were from different worlds. Which was all for the best, she reminded herself firmly.

  “I thought your speech went pretty well, all things considered,” Maudeen said, judiciously changing the subject.

  Riley pushed aside her tangled thoughts of dark-eyed reporters, focusing on the here and now. “It’s always hard for me to tell. The place was packed, but the question is how many were there to see me, and how many were there hoping for some kind of political cataclysm.”

  Maudeen smiled. “An equal number of both, I’d imagine. I think we can thank the Atlanta P.D. for preventing the latter. Anyway, it’s over. And it’s time for us to head home.”


  “Fine by me.” Riley turned, rubbing the small of her back. “I’m exhausted.”

  Maudeen’s cell phone rang, the noise jarring after the quiet of the conference room. Holding up a finger, she flipped the phone open. “Maudeen Drake.”

  Riley glanced out the window at the placard-waving protesters, grateful that the car was parked behind the building. The press was out there now, scrounging for sound bites. She searched the crowd for dark hair, but Jake Mahoney was nowhere in sight. Despite her earlier resolve, she was disappointed.

  “Riley.” Maudeen had a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. “Why don’t you go on to the car. I’ll be right behind you. This’ll just take a minute.”

  Riley nodded, and headed for the door, more than ready to get out of there.

  A bored police officer standing outside the conference room came to attention as she walked through the doorway. “You on your way out, ma’am?”

  “Yes. The car is just out the back.”

  “I’ll see you out, then.” They walked together down the hall in silence, Riley grateful that the man wasn’t into small talk. She’d had about as much of it as she could take for one day. Maudeen’s car was visible from the back door and Riley felt herself begin to relax.

  Almost home.

  “Do you want me to walk you to the car?”

  She focused on the policeman. “No thanks. I think I can manage on my own.” She smiled at him and stepped out into the sunlight.

  The days were starting to get shorter, although the heat had still not abated. After the stale frigidity of artificially cooled air, the warm sunshine felt wonderful. Riley tipped back her head and let the rest of her facade drop away. A slight breeze ruffled the trees, the shushing sound comforting, set against a symphony of insects.

  She walked toward the car, her thoughts settling on the pleasures of a hot bath. She reached for the car door and was pulling the handle open when she remembered she didn’t have Maudeen’s keys. With a sigh of frustration, she released the handle and turned back toward the clinic, her thoughts still centered on Rivercrest and a nice soak in the tub.

  “Hey, lady, stay the hell away from my car.”

  The voice was familiar, and she frowned as she recognized the angry figure of Jake Mahoney striding toward her, his eyes widening as he realized who she was. She continued to walk toward the clinic, trying to ignore him, but it was impossible to avoid his gaze as he narrowed the distance between them, his mouth opening with no doubt another angry retort.

  He stopped suddenly as sound exploded through the parking lot, a wave of heat crashing into her from behind. Jake’s eyes shifted to something over her shoulder, fear stark and compelling etching itself across his face. Her skin prickled with foreboding and she spun around to look behind her. The car, the parking lot, even the trees had disappeared, obliterated by a roaring wind of heat and fire careening across the pavement.

  She took a step backward, raising her hands in pitiful defense as her feet attempted to find the traction to run. The ground was literally trembling, and just as she thought the fire would consume her, something hard and solid hit her from the side, the world exploding into a cacophony of sound and light.

  Chapter 2

  “ARE YOU OKAY?” Jake’s voice was low and gruff, his breath grazing her ear.

  Riley fought against dizziness, trying to remember exactly what had happened. One minute she had been standing in the parking lot, and the next she was part of an asphalt sandwich. And at the moment the top layer of that sandwich was Jake Mahoney, his body warm and hard against hers.

  She swallowed against traitorous feelings. “I’d be a whole lot better off if you weren’t crushing me.”

  “Pardon me, princess.” His voice was mocking, but he didn’t move. “I thought I was saving your life.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Saving me from what?” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she realized how stupid the question sounded, considering the size of the fireball they’d managed to duck.

  “The explosion.” He rolled off of her, his eyes scanning the fiery debris all around them.

  She grimaced, separating herself from the pavement, her breathing gradually returning to a normal rate. “Something blew up?” Again with the stupid response. The man had reduced her to babbling like an idiot.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” He eyed the smoldering heap of car with something akin to agony. “My car.” He somehow managed to put enough emotion into the last word to make car-loving men everywhere stand up and salute.

  She suddenly wanted nothing more than to reassure him. To take away the pain in his voice, no matter how testosterone-laden the reason for being there. “It wasn’t your car. It was Maudeen’s.”

  “Maudeen?” He turned to face her, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

  “Yes. My father’s press secretary. It was her car.”

  “I saw it happen, and I think I can recognize my own car.” They stood face-to-face now, his blue eyes almost black.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. Confusion swept through her. “A black Saab?”

  “Yup. Two thousand. Leather seats, turbocharged. Fully loaded. No longer in existence.”

  Riley frowned at the smoking car. “Maudeen’s is a ’ninety-nine.”

  As if mentioning her name had conjured the woman, she appeared at Riley’s elbow, her face ashen, eyes locked on the burning car. “What in God’s name happened here? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But your car isn’t.”

  Maudeen shook her head, a frown creasing the skin between her eyes. “It’s not my car.”

  Jake turned, his gaze locking with hers. “I told you— it’s mine.”

  “So it’s your fault I was almost blown up?”

  Jake shot a look at the police officers already crowding around the remains of the car, then turned back to her. “Look, lady, I had nothing to do with my car blowing up, and it sure as hell isn’t my fault that you can’t tell the difference between your friend’s car and mine. To put it succinctly, if it hadn’t been for me, you might very well have ended up blown to kingdom come. So I don’t think blaming me is exactly appropriate.”

  She sucked in a breath, moving to stand toe-to-toe with him. “My name isn’t lady, it’s Riley. R-I-L-E-Y. And I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, but I’m working at a disadvantage here.” Her voice broke on a sob, and she angrily choked back tears. “It isn’t every day that I almost get blown up, Mr. Mahoney. No matter whose car it was. So forgive me if I’m not at my social best.”

  He reached out and ran a finger along her cheek, his touch almost burning her skin. She shivered and resisted the urge to cover his hand with hers. “We’ll find out what happened, Riley. That much I promise you.” The words were whispered. Almost intimate. Their gazes collided and held, then a policeman called his name and the spell was broken.

  “He’s something, all right.”

  Maudeen’s words filtered through Riley’s already beleaguered brain as she watched him walk away. He was more than something, actually, but that wasn’t a thought she was going to share with Maudeen.

  “Come on. Let’s get you back inside, and we’ll call your father.”

  She started to tell the woman that she was fine, that there was no need to worry her father, then she realized it wasn’t about her at all. It was about the campaign.

  Always, it was about the campaign.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Leon Bronowsky set the file down on his desk, his eyes on the man in the door. “Pete Rodman has called three times, and Senator Haskins needs your decision on S.468.”

  “Rodman’s an old coot, and Haskins is well aware of my position. He’s just hoping I’ll change my mind.” Carter O’Brien shot him a crooked grin, his boyish good looks at odds with his age. The man looked absolutely perfect. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his suit. Which was amazing, Leon thought, when one considered what he’d spent the afternoon doing.

  “You didn’t
answer my question.” Leon fought to hold on to his temper. The only way he was ever going to realize his dreams was to keep Carter O’Brien in line. And to do that, he had to keep a civil tongue in his head. No matter what inane things the man said.

  “I was just out for a little light recreation.” Carter shrugged.

  “I wish you’d be more careful.” Leon’s sigh was staged. He knew better than to try and control Carter’s dalliances. “You have an image to uphold. And if that isn’t enough for you, there’s always Maudeen.”

  The man’s grin widened. “Yes, there is, isn’t there?”

  Leon sighed again, this time in genuine exasperation. “If she finds out about any of this, there will be hell to pay, and you know it.”

  Carter sobered, crossing the room to drop gracefully into one of a pair of chairs in front of the desk. “She won’t find out. That’s why I sent her with Riley. Besides, it isn’t as if I’m married to the woman. Hell, the press doesn’t even know we’re sleeping together.”

  “My point exactly.” Leon reached for a little black ball beside his computer, but stilled his hand before it got there. “A scorned woman is not something to trifle with, Carter.”

  The smile was back. “I’m not trifling with anyone, Leon. Just having a little fun. While the cat’s away and all that.”

  “I think you have the metaphor wrong way ’round, my friend.” There was nothing mouselike about Carter O’Brien. “More important, you need to think before you act. Now more than ever.”

  Carter shook his head, laughter creasing the corners of his eyes. “I’ve been behaving exactly the same way for most of my life, Leon, and I always seem to manage to stay out of trouble.”

  With a hell of a lot of help. Leon grabbed the ball, flexing his fingers around it. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “All right. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll promise.”

  “And you’ll keep the promise?” Leon hated pushing, but they simply couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

  Carter shrugged, dismissing the conversation, his handsome face taking on a more serious tone. “Have you talked to Riley?”