Concrete Evidence (29 page)

He had to end this hellish conversation and get her away from Joe.

“You’re quite pretty,” Joe murmured. “Your work is intriguing, even exotic-sounding.” He smiled in a way that told Lee he was calculating her campaign value, and she’d garnered a high rating. “You’re perfect to play the role of a Talon & Drake non-management representative.” His gaze met Lee’s. “Go designer. Pick out a dress that will stand out in a roomful of peacocks. I want her noticed.”

Erica’s eyes widened, visibly appalled at Joe’s edict. “I don’t want to stand out.” Her gaze darted from Lee to Joe before fixing on the booth partition.

“Too bad,” Joe said.

If the conversation weren’t so stressful, Lee would be amused. No one said no to Joe, and Lee would ensure Erica was no exception. He wanted her to shine at the party too.

“I’ll take her shopping.” He picked up the DNA test kit again, and shoved it toward Joe. Maybe if Erica got her sample, they could get the hell out of here. “You should give her a sample. The tribe needs the test to determine if the bones are Menanichoch or not.”

Joe took the box and read the label. “You promise Menanichoch DNA won’t go into any genetic mapping database?”

“Yes,” Erica said.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Lee added. He’d promise anything to get out of this meeting.

“No one will know you provided the sample, Senator,” Erica added.

Joe shrugged. “If Talon & Drake and the tribe needs this, then fine.” He opened the kit and swabbed the inside of his cheek, then dropped the swab into the protective plastic vial and gave the kit back to her.

At last, the perfect moment to escape with Erica. Lee grabbed her hand and slid toward the end of the booth. “We’ve taken enough of your time today, Senator.”

She said a hasty good-bye as he dragged her away from the table.

“Good to see you, son. And Erica, it was delightful to meet you.”

She clung to his arm as they hurried from the restaurant. Outside, he walked with purpose, pulling her with him, away from the door, away from any further contact with Joe. He slipped a hand into his pocket and clenched it into a fist. Had she caught that last “son”? Did she write it off as a figure of speech, or had she guessed at their relationship?

She glanced back toward the restaurant several times.

What was she expecting to see? He had no idea what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. All he knew was he had to go on the attack before she had a chance to question everything that had just transpired. When they were a block away, he rounded the corner and stopped. “Did Jake Novak steal the artifacts about to be displayed in the Aztec Room?”

Her gaze darted back and forth down the street; then her eyebrows drew together in what could only be false confusion. “What do you mean?”

He pushed her against the building and cradled her chin. In spite of all the anger and suspicion, he couldn’t resist, and his mouth captured hers. She gasped softly and locked her arms around his neck. He lost himself for a moment; then sanity returned, and he broke the kiss.

She released him and pressed her palms flat against the wall while she caught her breath. A dozen emotions crossed her face, and her eyes held a heart-wrenching vulnerability. He couldn’t let that sway him. “You’re such a beautiful liar. I think the senator believed you. But I didn’t.”

She jerked away from him. Traffic flowed by on the busy city street. The noise of the stream of pedestrians and cars cloaked them in anonymity.

He touched her arm. “Dammit, Erica. When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“There’s nothing going on, Lee. You’ve got a wild imagination, that’s all.”

“So I imagined what happened to our office. To your apartment. To you in the basement of the Thermo-Con house.”

She didn’t answer.

“Why did Jake Novak trash your apartment? Was he looking for Aztec artifacts?”

“No!”

“When are you going to admit you worked for him?”

Blood drained from her face. She jerked her arm away, turned, and flat-out ran.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
T
HREE

A
FTER RUNNING SEVERAL BLOCKS
, Erica slowed to a walk and crossed Constitution Avenue, wishing she could disappear among the people strolling the National Mall. She carefully scanned the crowds and didn’t see Marco’s wiry form skulking amongst the tourists. She hadn’t seen him after Lee dragged her from the restaurant, but if he had followed her, hopefully she lost him in her mad dash.

Lee had guessed she worked for Jake. She shouldn’t be surprised. He must have realized days ago she was hiding something. She’d been acting like a freak ever since they met, and the first time she saw Jake, she’d nearly fainted. A part of her had been aware she’d been falling apart from the moment she started to cry in front of Lee and JT yesterday. And now, after seeing Marco, she felt so fragile a strong breeze would shatter her.

She wished she could return to her own apartment. And yet being alone was scarier than facing Lee. She really had no choice. She would have to answer his questions. Later.

Her cell phone rang. She let it roll to voice mail, then a minute later checked her message. But the call hadn’t come from Lee. It had been the clerk at the patent office. The files had arrived. Going to the patent office would save her from facing Lee for a few hours.

Knowing a FedEx drop box was in the Promenade area, she headed to the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station. She found a bench and pulled out the DNA kit. After wrapping the swab and bone, she took the box of Jell-O from her purse and pulled out the empty envelope she’d taken from Jake’s cabin on the
Andvari
. The envelope that had contained photos of Iraqi artifacts.

She studied the ripped flap. Had Sam licked the glue to seal the envelope?

She slipped the envelope into the padded mailer with the other two samples. DNA from the envelope would be compared to the senator’s DNA. She hadn’t gotten a sample from Sam, but at least this was Menanichoch DNA. She’d know for certain if the person who licked the envelope was a tribal member. It was a start.

Later she’d try again to get a sample from Sam, but at least she’d found a way to have the envelope tested for DNA—and she didn’t even have to pay for it. The tribe was picking up the tab. Fortunate, because there was no way she could have afforded the test herself.

She smiled grimly and dropped the package into the FedEx bin, saying a heartfelt prayer she’d be able to use the results, then headed to the patent office.

Thirty minutes later, she opened the first of the two patent files. At the top of the thick stack of papers was a brochure with the words:
Higgins Homes Presents Thermo-Con
. Even though she’d already confirmed their theories, she still felt a rush of excitement when she saw the words “Thermo-Con” in print in association with Higgins Industries.

She studied the brochure before making photocopies, proud that she’d connected bits of information in a way no one had done before. She felt bad Lee wasn’t there to enjoy the moment. He’d been an integral part of the project; it didn’t feel right that he wasn’t with her.

How was she going to face him tonight? What would she say?

Did Marco know where she was staying, or was she safe at the Watergate? These thoughts swirled through her mind as she made copies.

In spite of his accusation, she felt safe with Lee. She would never forget the moment he kicked through the basement door. Lit from behind and clouded by exhaust, he was haloed. Her own personal savior.

But her feelings for him were far from saintly. She felt a bone-deep hum whenever he was near. Just thinking about him, about the way his mouth felt on hers, she found herself short of breath and aroused. But she was a walking time bomb. To save herself, she would undermine—possibly even destroy—Joseph Talon’s campaign. When Lee learned the truth, he’d distance himself from her so fast he’d set a new land-speed record.

The copy machine ran smoothly as she carefully placed one document after another on the glass. She worked methodically, paying little attention to the pages in front of her.

Her cell phone rang again. This time it was Lee. “We need to talk,” he said.

“I know.”

“Meet me at the Watergate. Six o’clock.”

“Fine,” she said and hung up, feeling sick to her stomach. Part of her desperately wanted to tell him everything. The rest of her was terrified.

She continued copying the patent documents, then switched to the file for the mixing machine, which, as Lee had guessed, was the Thermo-Con generator described in the newspaper article. The letterhead indicated the DC law firm of Morton, Fairfield, and Lawson had handled the patent for Higgins. Was the firm still in existence? Would they have files for patents they’d handled over fifty years ago? The patent hadn’t been officially granted until after the Thermo-Con house was built. Could the law firm have specific information related to the construction of that particular house?

While the draft Environmental Assessment was done and filed, the bones meant the project was still active, and the tribe had requested she follow up on any new leads the patent information provided. This was a solid lead, and it could give her another reason to meet with Sam. A meeting in which she could somehow collect a hair follicle from him.

Good Lord, she was considering tackling an elderly man and yanking out his hair. But what else could she do?

At the counter, she paid for her copies and asked for a phone book. In minutes, she had the phone number for Morton, Fairfield, and Lawson programmed into her cell phone. She left a message as she headed toward the Metro. She slipped her phone into her purse and stepped onto the escalator to descend into the station, a sinking sensation in her stomach.

It was time to face Lee.

L
EE HEARD THE KEY
in the lock and met Erica at the door. He didn’t say a word as he closed the door behind her and threw the dead bolt. Nothing would interrupt them now.

Before she could speak, he kissed her. She was stiff, almost rigid at first, but he was determined, and deepened the kiss.

Her arms slid around his neck, and her body melted against his as she kissed him back with a passion that rocked him. He lost himself in the moment but then remembered his purpose. Raising his head, he looked into her gray eyes, faltering when he saw unguarded desire.

She opened her mouth to speak. He covered her lips with his fingertips. “Don’t talk,” he said. “I don’t want to hear any lies.” He kissed her again, pressing her into the closed front door, trying to lose himself again, trying to forget the real reason he was seducing her at last.

He pulled the ever-present hairpins from the knot at the base of her neck and ran his fingers through her silky hair, smoothing and separating the glossy strands that had fueled his fantasies for days. He felt her shiver as he trailed kisses up her neck, stopping at her earlobe.

She pushed against his chest. “We need to talk.”

He returned to her lips, silencing her as he opened the buttons of her blouse one by one. “The only thing I’m willing to talk about right now is baseball.” He slid her top over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“Baseball?”

“It’s taken me a week and a half to get past first, but tonight I’m going to round every damn base—slowly.” His fingers worked the clasp on her bra. In seconds, the lacy garment landed on top of her shirt. His mouth captured one nipple while his hand caressed the other.

She let out a soft moan. The sound ran like electricity through his system, every nerve ending on fire as he pulled her closer.

He scooped her up and carried her from the entryway into the master bedroom. His room. He dropped her on his high four-poster king-size bed, completing the picture he’d had in his mind for days.

“This is JT’s room. We can’t—”

He silenced her with a kiss, hating that even this was a lie. “JT’s not here. I refuse to make love to you on the sofa bed in the den, and the bed in your room is too small for what I have in mind.”