Deceive Her With Desire (15 page)

“Ha, ha, very funny.
Let me just pull the rest of my stuff together and I’ll follow you.” There was no way she was going to be left behind. Deirdre turned to close the back door of the one-ton, her heart hammering in her ears. Just another couple of minutes and she’d be headed home.

“Deirdre,” Jameson yelled from the side door of the house. “Wait up a moment, will you?”

“Dee.” Rachel dragged out her name in a plea, tapping on her watch.

“One minute,
Rach
.”

“With that pompous boss of yours?”
They watched Jameson stroll toward the garage with an unhurried sense of ease, his hands tucked into his dress pants. “More like thirty. He’s going to want you to show him the rose gardens and talk to him about all that’s left. The dude gives me a serious case of the creeps.”

“Fine.
Go.”

Rachel started the engine. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow around eight-thirty. Don’t bother going to the shop in the morning. I’ll load up the mulch and gear and come straight here.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m not taking any pity on you if you show up here with a hangover.”

Rachel laughed and waved out the window as she drove away.

Deirdre stared at the pickup disappearing around the bend of the driveway, wishing she were in the cab with Rachel, not left to fend for herself with Jameson. She’d nearly gotten away without seeing him.

Deirdre had sensed the hungry predator beneath the calm exterior the first night they’d met. If only her gut had screamed louder than her wallet, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Butterflies thrashed against the walls of her stomach and her heart pounded into her ribs as Jameson approached. The flush of apprehension filled her cheeks with heat. Deirdre inhaled, trying to settle her jangling nerves.

She could do this. “Mr. Jameson.”

“Shawn.” In a voice coated with honey, he corrected her.

“Shawn, of course.”
Deirdre cautiously lifted one corner of her mouth. When it steadied, she forced the rest of her mouth into a smile.

“I wondered how your father was doing.”

“Getting better.
Thank you for asking. They transferred him to Bangor.” Hooking her thumbs in the front pocket of her cargo pants, she tipped back on the heels of her work boots, trying to look more casual than she felt. “I’m glad you came out. I wanted to thank you for what you did on Monday at the police station and for having your men repair the wood chipper and empty the one-ton. Please deduct the cost of the parts and labor from my bill.”

“That’s not necessary. I was glad to help on both accounts.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“That’s kind of you,” Deirdre’s voice sounded squeaking and unnatural even to her own ears. She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump of anxiety pressing there.
“Looks like, even with all that’s happened this week, we’re only slightly behind schedule.
We should be able to finish by the end of next week. The gardens aren’t as bad as I’d originally thought.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled down at her, but there was no joy in his expression. “Deirdre, I was wondering how you know Austin Schaeffer.”

“I met him at your party, Saturday.” Cold fear tightened around her chest, making it hard to catch her breath. She hadn’t expected the question. Deirdre forced herself to remain calm. “And of course you introduced us again when you brought him to the garage on Monday.”

He smiled at her like a parent indulging a child. “I guess I’ll have to be more careful with my guest lists in the future.” Jameson waved his hand again, and one of the goons from Saturday’s festivities appeared from behind the one-ton. He moved so fast, Deirdre had no time to react. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her.

“We both know I’m not the only connection you two have, now don’t we?”

Deirdre wanted to puke. No doubt Jameson had had her followed to Ayden’s condo, maybe even to the hospital. Either way, Ayden had put himself in danger and unselfishly taken care of her when she needed him. It was time to bravely return the favor by denying everything. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re inferring.”

“This is not how I hoped it would go for us, Deirdre.” Jameson’s hand slid around her nape and fisted in her ponytail, yanking her head back. “I like you, I really do. But I need to have a little insurance policy while I finish up some business with Austin. I expect you’re the perfect bait.”

She stared into the depraved depths of his eyes, refusing to let him see her fear. Jameson had something in mind and her only chance to stop him was to play along until she could warn Ayden. “I think you’ve got the wrong gal. Personally, I don’t like fishing.”

“You do have a wicked sense of humor.” He released her hair pushing away from Deirdre with disgust. “Take her up to the house and gag that pretty mouth of hers. I’m not feeling much like being entertained at the moment.”

* * * *

Ayden leaned over Harriman’s chair. He had the headset cupped to his ear. “Tell me again when this happened.”

“About an hour ago, a little before four.”

“And they’ve all gone dead?”

“One at a time.
We tried to recalibrate the
mics
, sir, but there’s nothing. Not even static.”

“
Fuckin
’ A.”
Ayden threw the headphones onto the table next to the computer. “We are
this
close to nailing the fucking bastard.” His thumb and forefinger waved in the air only an inch from Harriman’s nose. “What the hell changed to make Jameson clear them all out now?” His feet carried him back and forth, tracing the same path they’d been following since he arrived at the command post thirty minutes ago. Jameson had changed the rules. Ayden chewed another couple of antacids, but nothing seemed to quell the alarm burning through his gut.

No doubt the asshole had had him followed.

“Delmont?”
Harriman asked, both of them certain of the facts.

Ayden had told the whole team what he’d done in the early hours of Tuesday morning. He figured he owed them the truth. Well, the truth as far as they were concerned.

He’d told them the facts about one of Jameson’s bimbos he was
boffing
. The same
one
who was arrested for possession, bailed out by Jameson, showed up uninvited at his doorstep and needed a ride home. He hadn’t bothered to mention Deirdre was much more than Jameson’s employee. Nor had he told them about his emotional involvement with redhead—or that he’d confessed everything to her about his undercover work.

“Jesus H. Christ. How did I get so sloppy?” Ayden raked his fingers through his hair. “It will
not
happen again. This asshole will not slip through my fingers. This is not Miami.”

The faces of the two men at the computers knit in confusion. They were too new to the DEA to know about what had gone down in Florida.

“Forget it. We have a scheduled meet with Jameson tomorrow morning. We need to be ready if he changes anything. I think that’s his plan. That’s why he’s finally swept the mansion and pulled all our surveillance. I’m sure we’ve been careful enough that he won’t suspect it’s us listening in.”

Actually, he wasn’t sure about anything.

Not the assignment. Not his men’s safety. And definitely not about how deep his feelings ran for Deirdre.

“Call everyone in. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, gentlemen.”

* * * *

Deirdre opened the bathroom door and let the steam of the hot shower filter out into the spacious bedroom. Swiping at the mirror, she was surprised the woman staring back at her didn’t look as bad as Deirdre felt. Fear and apprehension clawed at her insides, turning everything to a gelatinous mass, but she looked amazingly unscathed for all she been through in the last twenty-four hours.

Despite the sleepless night and endless day, there was no bruising under her eyes. No sallow look of hunger in her cheeks. She hadn’t shed any tears. She wouldn’t give Jameson the satisfaction.

She’d held up remarkably well, considering what she’d witnessed today.

Both Rachel and Ayden had come and gone from the mansion. Jameson laughed with each of them as he’d walked them to their vehicles. She’d been bound, gagged and held at gunpoint, forced to witness their visits from behind the shuttered bedroom window. In muted agony she’d watched their vehicles drive away without her, both of them unaware Jameson held her prisoner.

Jameson had fed Rachel some lie about asking Deirdre to check out another one of his properties down the coast. He’d hidden the one-ton somewhere and Rachel had left believing Deirdre had given her the day off. He hadn’t needed to tell Ayden anything. She and Ayden had agreed to have no contact until Sunday, so he wouldn’t know she was gone. She only prayed he wouldn’t break that promise with a quick call or a text. Jameson had her cell phone.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Deirdre filled her belly with water from the tap as she’d done all day. It kept her hydrated, but did nothing to quell her voracious appetite.

She would be joining Jameson in the dining room for dinner, as she had every meal, but she wouldn’t eat anything tonight, either. Despite assurances to the contrary, she didn’t believe her food wasn’t tainted. The dizziness from lack of nourishment was nothing compared to a drug-induced fog. She needed to have her wits about her if she was going to be any help to Ayden.

Padding over the luxurious carpet, she opened the closet and blindly rifled through the assortment of clothing, searching for the blue dress and matching heels Jameson insisted she wear tonight. She held up the hanger. The flimsy material shimmered in the waning light filtering through the windows. The bodice was cut too low, the hem too high. She sighed and threw it on the bed, resigned to let this play out Jameson’s way, praying Ayden knew what he was doing—and that he’d find her before it was too late.

* * * *

“Really, Deirdre, you insult me by not eating the food my chef has prepared,” Jameson drawled.

“I’m allergic to fish.” She toyed with her napkin, refusing to look at him.

“You do seem to have quite a few allergies.” Jameson smiled and sipped his water. “It doesn’t matter if you choose not to eat your last meal. Since my schedule has changed, tonight it will all be over and all loose ends tied up nicely. You will be dead.
Ayden Scott as well.”

Deirdre whipped her head up, not sure she’d really heard Jameson correctly.

He chuckled, a grating sound that filled her with dread. “Oh, I thought that would get your attention. Still want to claim you don’t know my DEA traitor?”

Deirdre fought down the panic clawing its way up her throat.

One of Jameson’s henchmen appeared at the door.

“Ah, Anthony, your timing is flawless. Please show our guest in.” Jameson turned to Deirdre, his hand reaching down to caress her thigh.
“Speaking of loose ends.”

Pushed by the other bald body guard, Mark Pearson tripped into the room. Deirdre gasped. His face had been pulverized to the texture of raw meat. One eye was swollen nearly shut. Blood dripped from his mouth, and he held his midriff as if several ribs had been cracked or broken.

“Mark.” Deirdre tried to go to him, but Jameson’s firm grasp on her leg held her in place.

“It seems, my dear, there is a thief in my organization,” Jameson said.

“Screw you.” Mark spit blood in Jameson’s direction and was rewarded with a fist to his battered torso. He fell to his knees onto the wooden floor, the cracking sound nearly making her wretch.

“Gentlemen, please. Not in front of the lady.” Jameson clasped his hands under his chin, his fingers
steepled
in front of his lips and his elbows resting on either side of his china plate. “It seems Mr. Pearson wanted to help himself to some extra merchandise without paying.” He turned to Deirdre. “You see, he’s been helping me distribute my product for several months now.
He and some of his former students.”
Jameson clucked his tongue. “The only problem was his soft spot for you, Deirdre. It appears
he
set you up for the arrest by putting heroin under the seat of your landscaping truck and calling the police himself. He thought I’d fire
you
for stealing and get you out of harm’s way.
Quite selfless on his part, really.
But he didn’t count on my men monitoring local scanners and picking up the 911 call.” He reached out and ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Imagine my surprise that he’d stashed my drugs in your truck.”

Deirdre couldn’t hide her incredulity. “Mark?
But why?
I—”

“Oh, don’t judge the man.” Jameson said. “A teacher’s salary is hardly enough to retire comfortably on these days, Deirdre. Especially when one’s wife is in the last stages of cancer and the medical bills keep mounting. Isn’t that true, Mark?”

“Fuck you, Jameson,” Mark slurred through clenched teeth.

“
Oh,
and there is the little matter of me getting his insurance dropped, forcing him to depend on me to pay for her chemotherapy.” Jameson’s dark laughter chilled her to the core. “One will do anything to save a loved one. Even distribute the very drugs you’ve fought a lifetime to keep from your students.”