Deadly Seduction (23 page)

Langley, Virginia
Five Days Later

Erin’s cab pulled up at the newly opened Marriott Resort.

Max was waiting out front. He opened her car door before offering a hand to help her out.

“You look…fabulous.” Max’s gaze swept over her slowly from head to toe and back before nodding in appreciation.

Erin had worn a blue silk dress and heels. She’d also fussed for an hour with her hair and makeup. His look told her it was worth every second.

And after this lunch meeting with Max and Travis Franks, she had another at the hospital at which she’d learn her employment fate.

“Thank you. You look rather
GQ
yourself.”

Max was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, no tie, collar open. His wraparound shades lent an air of mystery.

He followed her into the lobby. His hand at the small of her back guided her to the left, down the hall. Just past a large potted palm, he stopped and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “I just left six hours ago.”

After returning to the East Coast, Max had spent three days in a private Virginia hospital, where he’d been debriefed nonstop. They’d also run every conceivable medical test on him. With the exception of high blood pressure and the headaches—both of which were responding to the same medication—Max appeared to be in superb physical shape.

The
non-physical
stuff was another issue and would take time to sort through. While Max had agreed to cooperate with the CIA’s psychological and neurological staff, he’d refused to remain confined.

With Travis Franks’s support, Max had left the hospital and gotten a room here at the Marriott. Erin had been thrilled when he’d called and invited her to dinner last night. They hadn’t been able to stop talking and…one thing led to another.
Thank God.

Her fears that their lovemaking had been a result of stress had quickly been put to rest. The attraction between them was hotter than ever. Her suggestion that they still take it slow was vetoed by Max.

“Life is too short to go slow,” he whispered in her ear as he began to nuzzle her neck and press closer into her.

“Geez! Get a room!” Rocco Taylor’s voice startled her.

“When did you get back in town?” Max shook his friend’s hand and gave him a bear hug.

“Two hours ago. Dante filled me in on what happened in Colorado, but I’ll be eager to hear Travis’s update.” Rocco hugged Erin. “Guess this means you’re off the market.”

“Damn straight,” Max answered. He gave her hand a light squeeze and met her gaze. “At least, I hope you’re off the market.”

Erin smiled, enjoying the warm blush that came to her cheeks. She could get used to this. Travis had reserved a private dining room. Dante and Catalina were already seated, and after more hugs, they all took seats.

Erin had met Catalina at the Colorado clinic where Max’s shoulder wound was treated. It was easy to see she loved Dante and cared deeply for Max—as a friend.

“Any word on Logan’s whereabouts?” Rocco asked.

“None,” Max said. “As soon as I can, I’m going back out to look around.”

The morning after Erin was freed, Max and Dante had gone back to Saint Elmo with a team to recover Logan’s body. But he was gone. Vanished. Max had explained to Erin that if an animal had somehow gotten to Logan’s body, there would have been some signs. Tracks. Bloodstains.

The current conjecture was that Logan may not have been dead, but injured and unconscious. If he came to in the dark and went over the edge of the ledge, he could have fallen into the river even farther below.

Erin hoped the body would wash ashore to give Max closure. And of course, securing the microchips in Logan’s body was paramount to the Agency.

“Dr. Rufin’s been debriefed and moved to a secure location,” Travis said. “Max, Dante, I’ll arrange for you both to interview him soon. He’s cooperating fully and agreed to work with our psychology team to assess how to treat or reverse the programming using the least invasive method. Erin, I’d like you on that team.”

She nodded. “I’m eager to help.”

“And I trust her judgment,” Max said.

“What about the man who picked up Rufin and stashed him with Jengho in Bangkok?” Rocco asked. “Any leads?”

“Not yet. We’re ninety-nine percent sure the man worked for Abe Caldwell though,” Travis said. “And speaking of Caldwell, he’s convinced a judge to release him on bail. Five million cash. I think the reason Caldwell quit cooperating with us is because his attorney was floating a deal.”

“Money talks. Shit floats,” Max said.

“Exactly,” Travis agreed. “Erin, I don’t have anything on your father yet, but we’re working on it. We’ve seized Winchette’s personal records and I’m confident I’ll get his and your father’s research, too. It’s apparent Dr. Winchette and Abe Caldwell were in pretty deep.”

Erin nodded her thanks. “I appreciate your help in clearing my father’s name.”

“One last thing before they start serving food,” Travis said. “We’ve got Dante back. We’ve got Max back. But I swear to God, we will not rest until we find Harry Gambrel.” He picked up his water glass for a toast. “To brothers lost. And brothers found.”

His words were punctuated by the sound of three pagers beeping simultaneously. The chorus sounded urgent.

Erin watched as Travis, Dante, and Rocco all pulled out their cell phones. Their expressions grew ominous.

“What is it?” Max pressed as soon as Travis finished calling in to his office.

“One of our analysts, Madison Kohlmeyer, has been reported missing by her roommate.” Travis looked toward Rocco.

But Rocco was already striding out the door.

“I’ll be right back,” Max said as he followed Dante and Travis out of the room.

“That name sounds familiar,” Erin said to Catalina.

Cat nodded. “Rocco and Maddy have dated in the past. But recently…well, Maddy had just started seeing Travis Franks.”

Boston, Massachusetts
Later That Same Night

Abe Caldwell poured himself a drink and lit another cigarette. While the corporate condo wasn’t his first choice, he’d been glad to get out of jail! He knew they’d purposely locked him up with the worst scum to try to make him talk.

It hadn’t worked.

And while the Feds weren’t buying his
Mr. Innocent
act, his attorneys had obviously managed to keep Abe’s arrest out of the news. They’d also been successful in peddling Abe’s tell-all to Judge Anderson, who promised a plea bargain.

The big holdout seemed to be the CIA—but Abe knew exactly how to gain their favor. He felt confident that he held the winning cards.

His ace up his sleeve was Harry Gambrel.

Abe had heard through a reliable source that Travis Franks would give
anything
to find the third missing agent.

Good. Abe wanted all charges dropped. And he wanted his passport returned. The moment he got it back, he was heading to Zurich.

He’d already told his attorney to quietly orchestrate a sellout. Pagetelli Drugs would drool at the chance to take over Caldwell Pharmaceuticals. Abe could retire and leave all this crap behind for good.

Blue skies, here I come.

The rapping at the door to his study startled him out of his reverie.

“Come in, Martha,” he called out to his housekeeper.

The door swung open.

Harry Gambrel strolled in like he owned the place.

“How…did you get in here?” Abe sputtered.

“I brought flowers for your housekeeper. A funeral spray.” Harry pulled out a gun. “You’ve been dodging my calls.”

“I was detained,” Abe said, thinking fast. That the gun had a silencer was very bad. “Have a seat. No need to be hostile. I’m sure we can put a deal together.”

Harry raised the gun. “I heard about your fucking deal. And I came to tell you it was a bad idea.”

Abe stood, but was knocked backward by the force of two bullets.

And the last thing he heard was Harry’s laugh.