Dead Demon Walking (9 page)

I let my shoulders drop. Now we were
getting somewhere. “If I get your proof, you’ll leave?

“
Maybe I will, maybe I
won’t.”

I rubbed my fingertips in the corners
of my eyes. Royal so owed me for this. Big time.

Chapter Seven

We sat with Plowman at breakfast the
next morning. “Rosa Talby? Did you - ?”

“
Yes, yes, all arranged,”
he cut in. “We’re with a small, brand new TV station doing a
follow-up human interest story. My team is outside their home,
cameras at the ready. And at the father’s business. And the
brother’s school. We should get some decent footage. Then we’ll
film an interview with the family, try to guide the conversation to
topics such as they hope she’s at peace and will be waiting for
them when they pass over. We can edit out anything we don’t want,
then set up in the suite and run it for her.”

“
Clever, though your show
won’t be aired on TV.”

“
Many are not, and anyway,
Miss Talby does not have access to a television.” His brow
furrowed. “Do you think this will work?”

“
No idea, but it’s the best
we can do.” I sipped coffee from a delicate china cup.

We would be here another two days,
tour the coast for a week, then return to The Hermitage the night
before our flight home. Plowman thought his people could have the
mini production ready for Rosa next week. I hoped it would
encourage her to go on her way.

“
If she doesn’t leave, I’ll
have another chat with her when we get back here.”

“
Very well.”

Plowman leered at me as he spoke to
Royal. “So, you will join me for dinner? I would enjoy the
opportunity to wine and dine your lovely lady.”

“
We will see,” Royal said,
tone gone flat.

So
now
he didn’t care for his friend
eyeballing me?

Plowman’s gaze dipped to my neckline
and roved my body. “I’m sure you will want to rent a tux, and I can
point you in the direction of an excellent costumier if Tiff did
not bring anything suitable.”

I heard the sneer in his voice as he
eyed my gray and purple sleeveless dress. I was happy I even
brought a dress on the trip. I wore the thing because I thought it
more appropriate than jeans and a T-shirt for breakfast in a fancy
hotel. Actually, it was the one dress I owned.

His eyelids drooped suggestively. “I’m
sure The Hermitage can entertain you in a befitting manner,” he
told my breasts.

Royal leaned in and spoke through his
teeth. “If Tiff walks in your dining room wearing red flannel and
Wellington boots, she will still outclass every woman
there.”

I sensed the friction between them. I
guess Plowman stepped over the line when he blatantly ogled me,
pushed Royal a little too far. And what did they mean by suitable
wear, and red flannel? I decided not to ask till Royal and I were
alone.

Royal dug into what Plowman called a
traditional English breakfast: scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon,
grilled tomatoes, baked beans - some imported British version not
made with pork - and several objects I could not and did not want
to identify, but think came from nasty places inside an animal. I
stuck with eggs, sausage, bacon and buttered toast. Just looking at
what he put in his mouth made my stomach flip.

Plowman dabbed his mouth with a linen
napkin, dropped it on his plate and stood. “Well, my fans await.”
He smiled at two attractive young women who had appeared in the
doorway to the dining room. They waved. “Have a lovely day
sightseeing. I’ll see you tonight.” And he walked away.

“
He is so far up himself,”
I muttered when he went out of sight.

“
He is,” Royal admitted.
“But he’s a good sort at heart.”

He must be, I mused, or Royal would
not call him friend.

I refilled my cup with coffee. “What’s
this about wearing something suitable?”

“
He meant dress appropriate
for evening dining.”

I plucked at the waist of my dress.
“And this isn’t?”

“
Tiff, it’s a summer
frock.”

“
I don’t happen to have a
cocktail dress on me at the moment and I’m not renting a dress some
other woman wore, so I guess we better not eat dinner
here.”

He took both my hands in his and gazed
in my eyes, mouth curved in a winsome smile. “You could let me buy
you one. I can see you in pale, shimmering lilac, with silver
shoes, your hair loose down your back. You’ll knock them
dead.”

“
Like, no,” I said, going
all valley girl. “But red flannel does appeal to me. You can buy me
one of those. Then I can use it this coming winter.”

He opened his mouth, but I released
one hand and put my forefinger to his lips. “Maybe instead we
should discuss Rosa Talby and how we get to stay in an awesome
suite for nothing?”

“
Let’s wait on that, shall
we? Time to get moving,” he said smartly, looking to one side as if
he suddenly found the décor riveting.

Clever man.

“
Where are we going
first?”

“
Shall we start with the
Freedom Trail? It’s the best way to get acquainted with Boston’s
historic landmarks.”

***

I changed into a tee, pedal-pushers
and sneakers for the three-hour walk. Royal decided he would be
more comfortable in Levi’s and a T-shirt.

Who would believe so many different
muscles in the male anatomy are at play when a man puts on a
T-shirt. I watched, absorbed, as Royal eased his arms in the
sleeves, pulled the neck opening over his head, then used both
hands to roll the shirt down his torso. I sighed as the hem covered
the last two inches of pale-copper skin.

“
Like what you
see?”

“
You know damn well I
do.”

He turned on his heel to show me his
smile and the glitter in his eyes. “I can take it off and do it
again.”

I linked my hands above my head,
stretched and writhed. “Or you could take everything off and join
me on this incredible bed.”

The doorbell rang. Our suite had a
doorbell?

I let my hands flop on the pillow.
“Damn.”

Sliding off the bed, I followed Royal
through the suite and foyer. He opened the door.

I stepped back when a man and woman
flashed badges in my face; now you see it, now you don’t. “Mr.
Mortensen? Miss Banks? Please come with us,” the guy’s deep voice
rumbled.

Conscious of the well-mannered way in
which to greet a stranger, I said, “What the hell?”

Royal put a hand on my upper arm. I
don’t know what he thought I’d do, but he wasn’t taking any
chances.

“
We’ll take another look at
those IDs,” he told them.

They held their badges up
again.

Strager and Martinez. Federal Bureau
of Investigation. Strager looked like a bulldog, short and wide,
his thick arms and thighs straining to break free of his suit.
Bald, his blue-black skin shone with sweat. The whites of his big,
round brown eyes were slightly yellow above a broad, flat nose and
thin lips like a couple of eels mating. Martinez’ blue eyes were
level with my cleavage. Curly dark-brown hair lapped her collar,
framing an angular face with blue eyes and a wide mouth. She had
wide shoulders and impressive breasts undisguised by her dark-blue
pantsuit, white shirt and narrow black tie. Strager wore an
identical outfit, but with bulges in other places.

Royal nodded at the badges and the two
lowered their hands. “What is this about?”

“
We’re not authorized to
divulge that information,” Martinez said with a slight smile. “Our
supervisor will explain.”

I balked. “Whoa there, sister. We’re
not going anyplace with you.”

Royal smiled at them. “Can Tiff and I
have a word in private?”

“
But - ” I started to
protest.

He cut in. “Let’s discuss this, shall
we, Tiff?” He nodded at the agents. “If you would wait in the
foyer, this will take but a moment. I promise we won’t escape out a
window.”

Expressionless, they came inside and
sat on the Louis XIII furniture. Royal guided me into the living
room with a hand in the small of my back and closed the door to the
foyer.

“
Royal!”

He put a finger to his lips and towed
me inside the bedroom. Then he grabbed my hands. “Tiff, they are
not giving us a choice.”

“
Bull!” Furious, I pulled
my hands free. “I don’t care who they are, they can’t barge in
here, demand we go off to some unknown destination with them and
not give a reason!”

He shook his head slightly. “They’re
FBI. You know how they operate. Go with them now, see what this is
about, or wait for them to descend on us later with an offer we
can’t refuse.”

I marched to the window and looked
out, though I didn’t see a thing. Yeah, I know how the Bureau
works. They get what they want any way they can. If we didn’t go
with these guys willingly, they would come back at us with some
concocted rationale to do so. I knew that, and I was mightily
displeased.

I scowled. “I’ve never been on the
receiving end. It isn’t right!”

His arms came around me and pulled me
back to him. “I know,” he soothed. “We could zip out of here and go
home, but they would come after us there, and they would not be as
polite.”

I put my hands over his and squeezed.
“Do you have even a glimmer of what they want, ‘cause I sure as
hell don’t.”

“
No idea.” His lips danced
over my hair.

I shivered. “Is it safe?”

“
I think so.” He let go and
I felt as if a big, warm winter coat had been taken off my
shoulders.

He took my hand and led me back to the
agents. They stood when he opened the door to the foyer. “We’ll
come with you. Will it take long?”

“
Again, Sir, we can’t tell
you that, but you should bring your possessions with you,” Martinez
said.

Apprehension made my skin cold. I
shivered again.

“
Tiff, can you pack our
cases while I tell Chris what’s happening?” Royal said.

“
I wouldn’t do that if I
were you, Sir,” Strager growled.

Royal loomed over him. “But you are
not me.”

If he gave me a look like that and
used that flat tone, I would back off in a flash. I might even have
an accident in my panties. And I know him. The agents did back up a
step and I swear Strager’s dark complexion turned a shade
lighter.

In a temper, I gathered our stuff from
the bathroom, tossed it in our little suitcases and dumped our
clothes on top. Then I had to take the clothes out and fold them so
I could close the cases. I felt my face heat up as I worked and my
ire got closer to the surface. I heard Royal on the phone to
Plowman, but not what he said.

Then we followed Strager and Martinez
out the suite. I looked back at the luxury we left behind just
before the doors closed. So much for our romantic getaway. I didn’t
even get to show Royal all my sexy new underwear.

***

We rode to the airport in the back of
a black SUV with tinted windows. I half expected to go directly to
the runway and a private jet, but we went through the gate like
regular, willing commuters and boarded a commercial airplane. I
guess we weren’t that important, which I found somewhat reassuring.
And, we flew economy. Strager and Martinez sat behind
us.

I put my head on Royal’s shoulder and
we had a whispered conversation.

“
Tell me again why we came
with them without a by-your-leave?”

His breath wafted my hair. “Digging
your feet in and arguing with the FBI is nothing more than a
delaying tactic.”

“
Wish I knew what they
want.”

“
Tiff, be careful what you
say to them.”

I
mumphed
in his neck. “You mean watch
my smart mouth.”

His lips quirked. “Be as honest as you
can, but don’t volunteer information.”

I felt Royal’s tension in the hard
muscles of his arm as it pressed against mine during our boring
flight. His air of casualness was an act. This mysterious summons
worried him.

How often I’d felt that, his arm
against mine, his muscles like boulders when he worried but didn’t
want me to. He didn’t know his body betrayed him.

We lifted off, climbed, leveled out,
and I saw nothing but clouds. We touched down at Washington Dulles
International Airport one hour and forty-five minutes
later.

Chapter Eight

I should get a T-shirt
which says,
I went to Washington DC and
all I got was a lousy backdoor trip to the J. Edgar Hoover
Building
.

Not only did two National Guard stand
outside one of the rear entrances, two waited inside the door. They
patted us down and gave us Visitor IDs. Royal grit his teeth as my
guy ran his hands over me.