Fatal Truth: Shadow Force International (24 page)

She took a big swig of wine, then pushed the talk button, hopping off the chair and pacing away. “Hi Mom. What’s up?”

As Savanna headed for another room, Trace overheard her mother ranting about the fact she’d seen the news and why hadn’t Savanna called her.

That was close
. He corked the wine bottle and stuck it in the fridge.
Too close
.

As soon as he found Parker, he was going to sit Savanna down and come clean. He had to, whether it ended his stint as her bodyguard or not. If she had doubts about the information she’d blasted to the world on her show, then maybe she’d listen to him and not turn him in to the Feds. Even though he had no proof that he
wasn’t
a traitor, he did have something else. Information that would damn the president and bring him down.

Chapter Fifteen

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______________________________________________________

B
EFORE
D
ORIS
J
EFFRIES
was done with her tongue-lashing, Savanna had found the living room and turned on the flat screen over the fireplace.

She flipped to the news channel and sank slowly down to sit on the couch as she watched Courtney Collins, the nightly anchor, tell the viewers about Savanna’s erratic behavior and sudden disappearance after shots were fired at the studio early that day.

Erratic behavior?

The couch cushions were soft and deep, and Savanna sunk down into them even as her body went rigid when she spotted the source Courtney had gotten her information from as the camera panned out.

“Here with us tonight is Ms. Bunkett’s close personal friend and fellow
The Bunk Stops Here
producer, Lindsey Fey. Lindsey, thank you so much for joining us tonight.”

Producer? Friend?

“Mom, I have to call you back.” Savanna disconnected, her mother still talking. In ten seconds, her mom would call back, so Savanna turned off the phone and tossed it on the couch beside her.

As Courtney interviewed Lindsey, Savanna sank further into the couch’s cushy pillows, wishing she could disappear. With a serious face, Lindsey told Courtney, and the camera, about Savanna’s refusal to do a show after the staff and crew had put hours of work and research into it. How Savanna had become paranoid about stalkers and hired a bodyguard. How she’d become fixated on a conspiracy theory that had no proof or facts of any kind to back it up.

And then Lindsey told the ultimate lie. “Savanna Bunkett has not performed her own research on any of the topics she’s brought to the American people in months. I’ve had to step in and do everything.”

Lindsey stared straight into the camera, still wearing her big hair and perfect makeup from hosting Savanna’s show. “We’re all concerned about Savanna’s health and wellbeing, but her disappearance today is only one more incident in her recent unprofessional conduct. The show’s producers want the American public to know that the bunk truly does stop here. They will not tolerate unprincipled, unscrupulous, or dishonest reporting, nor will they support any reporter who acts in an unbecoming way.”

“What about the accident earlier today?” Courtney asked, her face showing the world how she, too, took Savanna’s misdeeds seriously. “Is it possible Ms. Bunkett was indeed targeted by a stalker?”

Lindsey gave Courtney a patient smile. “The police ruled the accident a hit-and-run, nothing more. This is DC. People run red lights every day and there are dozens of hit-and-runs in the metro area every month. She was a victim of the odds, not a stalker or crazy fan like she wishes everyone to believe.”

Savanna was so stunned, she barely noticed Coldplay setting her wine glass on the coffee table in front of her.

“You really want to watch this?” he said.

She was like a gawker at a traffic accident. “I can’t believe she’s doing this to me.”

He folded his arms across his large chest and nodded. “Been there.”

“What?” she said, looking up at him.

“Nothing.” He handed her the glass. “You’re going to need this if you’re going to watch.”

Boy, did she. She sipped and the glass froze halfway back down when Courtney went to a live feed from Georgetown and a home office Savanna hadn’t seen the inside of in months.

“Senator Brady Garrison joins us. Thank you, Senator, for taking time to speak with us.”

Brady’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, just like it always did, and he carelessly brushed his blond bangs out of the way. “Courtney, great to see you. It’s no problem at all. The storm’s keeping me at home tonight anyway.”

Gosh darn and gee whiz. As if he’d be on Capitol Hill at eleven o’clock working if it weren’t for this darned storm.

Savanna considered throwing her glass at the TV screen. “What are you up to?” she murmured under her breath at the oversized face of her ex.

“Who’s he?” Coldplay asked, still standing formidably beside the couch.

“Brady Garrison the second. Senator.” On screen, Courtney and Lindsey were giggling over something Brady has said. Even though she no longer loved him, Savanna definitely wanted to throw her glass at the two women. She forced the next words out. “My ex-boyfriend.”

Coldplay seemed to stiffen. Without shifting his stance, he cut his eyes to her. “Right. I saw his name in your files. What does he have to do with them crucifying you and making you look like a fraud to the public?”

Brady’s smile disappeared as he began telling Courtney and Lindsey about Savanna’s fickle, temperamental mood swings and mercurial personality. He suggested she had untreated mental issues.

Bastard.

“I’m a woman,” Savanna said, her voice flat in her own ears. “The surest way to undermine me is to have a man tell the world I’m emotional and bitchy. If you’re male, they discredit you by showing you’re a failure in your career. If you’re female, it’s all about your weight, your mood swings, and your hair.”

“What?”

“It’s like a tabloid. The famous women—actresses and TV personalities—are always being left by their men, not the other way around. No matter what the man did, it’s the woman’s fault. Either his wife or current girlfriend is too much of a bitch and drove him away, or the other woman is too sexy and he couldn’t help himself. This is the world we live in.”

She pointed at the screen where Brady continued to capitalize on lying about their past relationship. “Viewers eat this up. They don’t care about real news if there’s a fictitious or erroneous story that’s juicier.”

“Linc Norman pulled out all the stops on this one.”

“You think he’s behind this?”

“Did anyone mention the shooting at the studio today?”

She shook her head.

“Those bullets were directed at you, and although my team suppressed the hell out of the fact that it happened, the story got out. Petit wanted me to keep you away from the news and the internet so you wouldn’t see it. But this is worse. They’re running with a complete fabrication and editing out anything that suggests you’re in danger.” He faced her fully now. “That smacks of Norman.”

He was right, like always. Savanna turned off the TV. She couldn’t stand the sight of Brady, Courtney, or Lindsey a minute longer. “Lindsey got what she wanted after all.”

Coldplay took a seat beside her, digging her phone out from under his butt when he sat on it. He tossed it on the coffee table. “We’ll get this straightened out.”

She shrugged, every bit of energy draining away as she set her glass on the table. “The damage is done. Even if I prove they falsified information and I was telling the truth, the damage they’ve done tonight will haunt me forever.”

Flopping back in the pillows, she covered her eyes with her hands. “I’ll never work in broadcasting again, so…yeah. There’s that. Life threatened and career up in flames.”

“I shouldn’t have let you watch.”

“Bullshit.” She sat up, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I appreciate Emit wanting to protect me, but I appreciate you letting me face the truth even more. I would have to eventually, anyway.”

His eyes were that uncanny dark blue, staring at her like he was trying to dig into her mind, her soul. “The news is your world. Shielding you from negative publicity would be pointless.”

“Exactly.” Her mind was churning. Being made a public spectacle was embarrassing and eviscerating on so many levels. The Three Stooges—Courtney, Lindsey, and Brady—had managed to discredit and invalidate everything she’d worked for in five minutes flat. Every story she’d ever done was now suspect.

And if they dug hard enough, they could prove they were right. At least on one story. A headliner.
You didn’t do your research on that one.

The thought chilled her. “You did the right thing,” she told Coldplay. “I hate secrets. Their accusations aren’t truthful”—
for the most part
—“and I’ll prove that once I’m able to confront the president and stop him. How’s the decryption coming?”

“Still working. Your sister did a number on that USB. She obviously didn’t want the information to fall into the wrong hands.”

His steady gaze did funny things to her. What went on behind those blue eyes? She still wanted to throw the wine glass at the TV and she felt sick that her career was in danger, but there was something else. A warmth spreading in her stomach not due to the alcohol.

She wasn’t in this alone. She was safe. She still had a chance at finding Parker and stopping this whole crazy charade.

Maybe it was the wine this time, but her head was spinning slightly. The quiet of the house and the intensity of Coldplay’s stare made her feel lightheaded and exhilarated. Like she’d jumped off a cliff but he was her parachute.

Her fingers fiddled with a lint ball on the upholstery between them. “Do you think that USB will help us?”

“To find Parker or to blackmail Norman into leaving us—I mean you—alone?”

“Either. Both.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Me too.” She rubbed the top of her thighs, anxious and worried at the same time, but not about her predicament or Parker. “I take it I’m not your first.”

He sat back. “First what?”

“First bodyguard mission. You’re so calm about all of this. So…professional. How many people have you brought here?”

For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed flustered. “I, um…”

Kiss him.
“I get it. That would break the rules. Never mind.”

He smiled. “I’ve never brought anyone else here.”

Oh, that smile. Talk about eviscerating her.

That lightheaded, exhilarated feeling spread through her limbs. “So I am your first.”

“Yeeesss…”

“But?”

A frown creased his forehead.

“I sensed a
but
coming,” she said.

“No buts. You’re my first bodyguard mission. Not sure I should tell you that since that probably makes you want someone else now.”

“Why would I want someone else?”

“Because I have no experience with this.”

For so many years, she’d had to be strong, unflinching, and perfect in the public eye. She hadn’t needed anyone, and when she did, it was Parker. The two of them, inseparable, but now she realized, they’d each had their own secrets.

She didn’t have Parker tonight. She had Coldplay. “You’ve saved my life twice. I’d say you’re pretty damn good for someone with no experience.”

And there it was again. That smile that made her pulse speed up. It made her ache. Ache to be held, to be touched. He didn’t give it freely and a part of her understood that. She’d smiled for the camera daily for years, never feeling true happiness. Feeling locked inside a prison she’d created.

Since the age of fourteen, she’d suppressed those emotions. Her gymnastics career had been exhausting, the daily grind and injuries taking its toll, but it had made her feel alive. Whole.

And then it had been stripped away. Her world had crumbled. The people she’d depended on and looked to for guidance had pulled her safety net out from under her. She wasn’t sure she could feel that deeply ever again.

Had Coldplay experienced something similar? Was that why he was so contained, so aloof?

“How do you remain so calm?” she asked. “If you’ve never done this before…and after the couple of days we’ve had…how do you seem so unfazed by all of this?”

He started to speak, stopped. Sighed. “Power and control come from external things. Your show, your fame—they’re all tied to external objects and feedback from other people.” He touched the center of his chest with a fist. “For me, power and control come from in here.”

“External factors don’t affect you?”

“They affect who I am, but not what I am.”

“That sounds very Zen.”

A grin quirked the side of his mouth. “It’s like in yoga. You focus on your breathing and what you’re feeling internally to perform a challenging pose. If you’re distracted by the person next to you, or by street noise, you can’t push through and hold the pose correctly. If you’re focused on the right things—those inside you—you tune out the unimportant and tune in to your core power and strength.”