Primal Force (24 page)

The bride and groom had departed and the lights in the ballroom had been turned down and tables pushed back in order for the younger guests to finish getting their dance party on. Things were about to get drunker and looser, and certainly more interesting.

But he couldn't very well just approach Luke Tice's wife, even if they had been introduced. He'd have to bring her to him. He knew just how to do that.

As she danced with a stranger, he gave her a hot hard glance, eyes stopping at her breasts and then hip level before sliding away. She bristled, but she glanced back after a few steps. Law looked away, no trace of his real thoughts on his face. Enough eye contact, and she'd find a way to wander over to him. Eventually.

Eventually lasted only five minutes.

Erin came dancing up to him at the end of a song, a bottle of champagne in hand and eyes wide with me-likey avarice. “You've been watching me, Mr. Battise.”

Law met her flirtatious smile with a bland expression. “Have I?”

Her smile turned up at the corners. “I might be married but I'm still a woman. I notice these things.”

“If you say so.”

“Dance with me.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled. He didn't move. Not even an inch. “Oh, come on. Don't be shy.”

“I don't dance.” Law patted his left leg. Sam sat up.

“Oh, right.” When Erin looked up from his leg, he noticed her pupils were unusually wide even for the lighting, engulfing the blue of her eyes. “How about we find a quiet place to chat?”

“Can't do that.”

She frowned. “Does Jori keep you on a tight leash?”

He smiled just a bit. “No one will ever do that.”

Erin's smile returned. “So you were just throwing her off the scent before?”

“How's that?”

“By saying she's the best lay you ever had.” She turned her head to cast a glance around the room before looking back at him and sliding a hand up his arm. “I think you were really issuing me a challenge.”

“Honey, if that's your idea of flirtation, you need to meet a better class of men.” He casually brushed her hand from his arm.

She smiled slowly, her gaze drifting below his waist as she replaced her hand on his arm and squeezed. “I do like a challenge.”

Law looked down at her hand where a four-carat diamond sparkled and then back at her. Her lipstick was smeared and her mascara had gone cakey from the heat of dancing. She was not yet thirty but there was a hard edge already to the curve of her smile. Something was riding her, but it wasn't going to be him.

“Is this the game you played with Brody Rogers? Or were you more than fuck buddies?” He leaned in so that he couldn't be overheard. “Rogers was high the night he died, Mrs. Tice. He'd just come from your place. Did you two do a few rails to celebrate his broken engagement?”

She snatched her hand back. “Who are you?”

“Just an officer of the law. If you'll excuse me.”

Law walked away before she could rally. He held himself militarily erect, trying to suppress his limp as he crossed the ballroom. His leg was hurting like a sumbitch. So were his hip and half a dozen other bruised places. He began swearing under his breath, viciously and methodically, as he left the room.

He needed fresh air. Quiet. A place away from people until his temper cooled. Then he'd find Jori and they'd get the hell outta Dodge.

He'd lobbed a few live grenades tonight. He would just have to wait, and be ready, for what sprang up in retaliation.

He had reached the first of the wide front steps outside the hotel when he heard the sirens. Before he could steel himself, the yelps of the approaching ambulance quickly gained intensity as strobe lights appeared out of the night, eclipsing even the Christmas decorations in their blood-red flashes.

The siren's wail merged into screams of incoming rocket fire. The chill of the December night ruptured. The scene exploded into the blinding brilliance of a desert sun.

His body jerked as the echo of a ghostly rifle shot crackled around him.

He pedaled back until his back touched cold stone, halting his retreat. One hand scrambled desperately for the M4 carbine that was always strapped across his torso when on duty.

The sickening punch of an explosion rocked him back on his heels. His heart began to race. The explosions of firepower erupting around him had one purpose. To kill.

He willed his knees not to buckle as he fought for control of the pain and panic engulfing him. Scud was nearby, barking excitedly, frantic for his leadership. He tried to call him back. He mustn't fail Scud. Not this time.

Something exploded in his chest. It was his heart. He could feel the blood spewing out through his chest wall as the searing heat of a mortar ripped into his gut.

He smelled death.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Erin turned her back for her husband to unzip her. “I think that trooper named Battise should be fired. He insulted me.”

“Can you wait until I've won the election before you start handing me your personal vendetta list?”

She danced away from him when he'd dragged the zipper open. She'd had enough champagne and pills to feel bold. “Would it matter if I said he stuck his hand down the front of my dress?”

“Did he?”

“Maybe.”

Luke snorted. “You're an incorrigible flirt, Erin. Unless you've got two witnesses who'll swear to what you just told me, no. I can't afford to alienate a decorated veteran who's just been all over the news as the new local hero.”

Erin shimmied out of her dress and kicked it out of the way. Bending over required too much effort. “He wasn't very nice to you, either.”

Ignoring the jibe, Luke turned to look out of the windows of the governor's suite at the Crescent Hotel. It was a spectacular view. Below lay the glittering Christmas lights of the town. Being a Tice, he didn't need to deal with many of the mundane concerns of life. For instance, the need for the ambulance arriving in the parking lot below. If ill or injured, Tice Industries would send a helicopter to zip him over to a Fayetteville hospital. But how wrong people were to think he didn't have problems. He had masters he served, just like everyone else.

He turned back from the strobe lights pulsating through the darkness and smiled at his wife's beauty. For her, anything.

“I smile every day at people I despise because they are useful to me. At the same time I avoid former associates because I'm advised it would send a wrong message to be seen with them. The best way to stop trouble is to avoid it. Dad was right about this Garrison wedding. I should've listened.”

She shrugged and subsided into a chair, feeling the buzzkill of reality setting in. The highs weren't lasting as long as they had even a few weeks ago. “I hate your campaign.”

“You think I get any joy out of it? I'm busting a gut trying to build something here. Do some good. Make some changes. But first I gotta pay my dues. And that can be tricky. That's why I'm always telling you to stay out of the public eye when you're not prepared. When you do show up, smile and look pretty. And when anyone brings up a political matter, you refer them to me.”

Erin adjusted her demi-cup bra and succeeded in capturing her husband's eye. “You mean keep my mouth shut.”

He smiled and came toward her. “Pretty much. You're gorgeous. The love of my life. I'd do most anything for you.”

“You would, wouldn't you?” She gave him her best smile, thinking she'd chosen the right cousin after all. “So, about Battise?”

He shook his finger at her. “I can't slay that particular dragon, sweetheart. Sorry.”

She looked away. “He mentioned Brody.”

“What?” Her husband's tone made her look up. “Why would he have any reason to mention my cousin?”

His eyes scared her, making her back off. “Oh, you know. I guess Jori's been spinning lies about us.”

“Why would she discuss Brody to Battise?”

Even through the haze of booze and pills, Erin realized she couldn't very well tell her husband what Battise had implied. That she had been Brody's customer. It might remind him of other promises she'd made and broken since. “I have no idea. Swapping love stories with a new boyfriend? Who knows what goes through a convict's mind.”

“Battise did say he wants to meet with me.”

“Don't do it, Luke. If he's following up on something Jori said, it can only mean he'd like to make trouble for you. Maybe
she
wants to make trouble. Now that she's out of jail, maybe she wants revenge. And she's screwing a cop to get him to help her.”

Luke frowned. “I wonder. You ever think about Brody?”

“Of course not.” Her high, veering sharply toward itchy-twitchy, made her voice sharp. “Why would I?”

“What if Brody hadn't died?” He was watching her now, still a little jealous after four years whenever his cousin's name came up. “He sure had the charm.”

She ran her nails up the nape of her neck, trying to distract herself. “He was engaged to Jori.”

“He said he'd broken it off with Jori that last night.”

“I was there, if you recall.”

Luke's expression turned grim. “I recall a lot of things.”

Erin popped up from her seat. “Oops. Almost forgot my meds. Pour me another glass of champagne while I get them. I ordered room service to bring more up.”

Luke followed her. “You shouldn't mix alcohol with your medication. You know you're vulnerable.”

“I know. And I don't, usually.” She avoided his gaze. “It's just that my knee hurts like hell. My orthopedist says I tore something in that last race and may need surgery. Still, I had to look beautiful for you tonight, didn't I?”

She kicked up a leg sporting a five-inch heel held in place by a tiny rhinestone strap. “I do this for you, sugar.”

Luke grabbed her foot and kissed it just above the strap. “Did I ever tell you you're the most beautiful woman I ever saw?”

“Every day, baby. That's why I married you. Now let me take the edge off and show you just how much I appreciate you.”

*   *   *

“That's right, Dad. A state trooper named Battise wants a private meeting with me. He was here with Jori Garrison. How the hell should I know? They just showed up at the wedding together.”

Luke moved his cell phone from one hand to the other as he pushed open the door. “Nobody ever heard of him until he made the papers this week as a one-legged hero. Now everyone's talking about him. What I want to know is who the hell this Battise guy really is.”

Luke moved out onto the balcony just outside his suite, not wanting Erin, who appeared to be asleep, to overhear his conversation. The air was frigid, smelling of snow, but he couldn't wait until morning to get a few answers from his father. He didn't rattle easily. But the mention of Brody had unnerved Erin. Now he was worried, too.

So far, however, his father sounded like an adult dealing with an overwrought child.

“So, you do know him? How? No, I'm not overreacting.” He hated that soothing let-me-take-care-of-this tone. “Oh, really? Then did you know he's asking questions about Brody?”

Luke smiled as he held the phone away from his ear. That had gotten a rise out of his old man. Brody continued to be a sore spot for his father.

When the expletives on the other end of the phone subsided, Luke was more calm. “Like I said, Jori must be thinking of protesting her verdict. That's the only thing that makes sense. If that's it, maybe I should talk directly with her. No, I know I can't appear to be backing down on a verdict that's part of my tough stand on crime.”

Luke began to regret making the call.

“You say that, Dad, but you don't mind me owing favors across half the state for other considerations. How is this different?”

More political advice he didn't have time for.

“No. Of course, there's nothing more for the state police to learn about Brody's death. Why would I try to hide anything from you after all this time?”

For the first time his father paused to think. Good. He'd called him for some of his bedrock cut-your-losses advice. What he'd gotten so far was nothing close to that.

“No. I don't want you anywhere near this, you hear me, Dad? Handle it wrong and it could blow up in my face.”

Luke ducked back into the main room of the suite, his ears, nose, and fingers tingling from the cold. “I was hoping you could fill in a few blanks for me. But since you can't, I'll take care of this. I have resources, too. I am your son. Right. Right. I just thought you should know. Yes, I'll keep you informed. Good night.”

Luke punched
END
and tossed his phone on the sofa. He might just have made a mistake.

*   *   *

“Goddammit all to hell!”

Harold Tice tossed the Waterford crystal sniffer of Tennessee whiskey at his fireplace, where it shattered into a hundred tiny prisms. Luckily, his wife was away visiting her sister in Bentonville and wouldn't be home until morning. By then the maid would have cleaned up. Meanwhile, he was going to have to do some cleaning up of his own. For Luke's sake.

He should have followed his instinct when he'd first learned that Battise was looking into his military records. He'd had all the pieces. Wounded jobless veteran. Angry and antisocial. Suffering PTSD. Easy enough to stage something. People would have done no more than wag their heads and say
What a waste.
But now Battise had gone and made himself a front-page news hero right in Tice Industries' backyard.

Worse still, he'd joined up with Jori Garrison.

“What the hell is going on?” Harold looked about to reassure himself that he was, really, alone. The maid might have heard that crash and come running. No one.