Читать книгу Captain's Call of Duty - Cindy Dees - Страница 9

Jim paused outside the door of the love nest, supper in hand. How weird was this, posing as lover to Alex? Hell, it made him hinky even to think about her being a girl. She’d always been Arturo’s kid sister, and then she’d been the resident tomboy on the ranch. Not to mention she was one of his troops now, too—even if she was only on loan to his unit. She was practically one of the guys, for God’s sake. His Kelley family loyalty was torn—catch Lana’s kidnappers or put Alex in danger. How was he supposed to choose?

He pushed the door open and, no surprise, Alex was seated in front of the second computer. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

She made a rude remark any one of his soldiers might have made to him and kept typing.

He laughed and went into the tiny kitchen. “I hope you like Chinese. I picked up takeout for us.”

“Give me the one with beef.”

“How’d you know I got one with beef?” he challenged.

“Your family owns a cattle ranch in Montana. It’s your duty to support the beef industry.”

He grinned and carried the white cardboard box to her. “Beef and broccoli.”

“Thanks.”

“Find anything?” he asked from the armchair across the room.

“Maybe. The senator is going to a fundraiser tomorrow night hosted by some company called the McNaught Group. Ever hear of them?”

“No. Should I have?”

She shrugged. “You’d have to run in the right circles to come across them.”

He frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

She continued, “They describe themselves as a strategic analysis and investment group. Whatever the heck that is. But what’s interesting is several of their board members are donors to the Chandler campaign. Why would east-coast power brokers give a darn about the junior senator from Nebraska?”

“Good question.”

“I did a little digging on McNaught’s finances and ran into a whole bunch of nesting corporations. A dozen or more of them lead back to other Chandler donors.”

“Any way you can tell if they contributed to my dad’s campaign?”

“I’d have to get a list of your father’s campaign contributors. I don’t know if that’s readily available public information.”

He made a face. “I know just the person to get it for us.”

“Who?”

“Who else? My mother.”

“Really. You don’t have to call her. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation with your family.”

“Just because she’s divorcing Hank, that doesn’t mean she isn’t as interested as I am in catching whoever kidnapped her baby girl. She’ll help me.”

Alex chose that moment to spill her beef and broccoli all over her shirt. Red-faced, she made a dash for the bathroom. He pulled out his cell phone. “Hi, Mom. How are you doing tonight?”

Sarah Mistler Kelley sounded as composed as she always did. “I’m fine, dear. Is there any change in his condition?”

No need to ask who she meant. She might have left Hank because of his mistresses, but she’d loved the man and had had six children with him. Jim answered her regretfully, “No change. They’re still waiting for the brain swelling to come down so they can let him regain consciousness. The doctors said it could be a week or more. We just have to be patient.”

A sigh came through the line. “Thanks for the update.”

“Actually, that’s not why I called.”

“Oh?”

“I’m looking into who kidnapped Lana. Just poking around informally to make sure the police are doing their job. I was wondering if you have a list of campaign donors from Dad’s last couple of elections.”

“Of course. I had to put together all the seating charts at the fundraisers and send out the thank-you notes. I can email the lists to you if you like.”

“That would be great.”

By the time Alex emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and a maroon Harvard T-shirt, he was seated at her computer, logged on to his email and printing out the donor list, which had already come through from Sarah. Efficient woman, his mother.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” he told Alex as he handed over the list.

She nodded and jerked a thumb at him to get out of her seat. Grinning, he moved aside.

“Want a beer?” he asked.

She threw him a strangely hurt look. “No, thank you.”

What was up with that? He’d seen her hoist a cold one with the guys in the unit plenty of times before. Whatever. He turned on the world news to see if there was any new pirate activity being reported in the Sea of Aden. It was a sad but true fact that he got nearly as much of his intelligence on world events from the news channels as he did through classified military means.

Alex worked through the evening, surfing and scribbling. Finally, at about ten o’clock, she pushed her chair back and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Need me to work out that kink?” he offered.

She jolted so hard she all but fell out of her chair. “No. I got it.”

“Find anything?”

“Maybe. Yes. I think so.”

“What’ve you got?”

He plugged in the white-noise machine as she moved over to the sofa and spread her notes out on the coffee table. “At least twenty of the same corporate donors and another dozen large private donors contributed to both your father’s and Chet’s last campaigns. These folks have donated to Chandler’s last several campaigns, but they were all first-time donors to your dad’s last campaign.”

He frowned, staring at the lengthy list of names. He’d never heard his father mention any of these people. “I don’t think any of these guys are from California.”

“I know they’re not.” She shrugged. “Your father and Chandler both tend to vote conservatively, so these donors could conceivably just be supporting like-minded senatorial candidates. Or, they could’ve bought Chet a while back and just be getting around to buying your father. How’d Hank’s last campaign go?”

“It was a close thing. His conservative platform doesn’t always play well with west-coast voters. He was behind in all the polls throughout the campaign and forecasted by everyone to lose. Then he got a big influx of cash at the last minute and was able to blitz the media with family-values ads.” He added bitterly, “Which we all know now to be a load of crap.”

Alex replied quietly, “Just because he cheated on his wife doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his kids.”

Jim shrugged. “He’s not the man I thought he was.” He figured Alex would know what he was talking about. She’d grown up around Hank and seen how larger-than-life but out of reach the man had always been, especially in the eyes of his sons.

“Lots of people aren’t the same as they appear on the surface.”

She sounded oddly choked up when she said that. He studied her closely, but her dark eyes gave away nothing. But then she cleared her throat and said briskly, “Almost every donor on that list is going to be at Senator Chandler’s fundraiser tomorrow night.”

“The one this McNaught Group is putting on?” Jim asked.

She nodded.

“Then I guess I’m going to have to get myself invited to it,” he commented.

“How?” Alex blurted.

“Easy. I’ll call and tell them I want to give Chandler money.”

She replied doubtfully, “The guest list is pretty exclusive. Some of the richest people in this part of the country are going.”

“All the more reason to be there. Sounds like exactly the kind of people I’m looking for.”

She said hesitantly, “I don’t know if you’re rich enough to get in. And the cost per plate is thirty thousand dollars.”

He shrugged. “We can always have Homeland Security add a few zeroes to my bank-account totals if it turns out I’m not wealthy enough to get in on my own.”

She blinked, stunned. “They can do that?”

He laughed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you and I can have whatever we want on this op. The people who put me on this job seriously want to see this bunch of folks exposed.”

“Wow.”

“I’ll arrange for the boost to my bank accounts in the morning. And you’d better call in sick for work tomorrow.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“Because you have to go shopping.”

“For what?”

“A decent dress to wear to the McNaught fundraiser with me.”

“What?” she squawked.

“Do you even own a dress, Mendez?”

“Of course,” she answered quickly enough that he wondered if she was telling the truth.

“It’ll need to be a fancy one. The McNaught fundraiser is no doubt black-tie.”

“As in tuxedos and ball gowns?” she practically squeaked.

“Exactly.”

She subsided, looking horrified. He laughed. “Chin up, kid. If you’re nice to me I won’t take blackmail pictures of you in a dress to post in the unit.”

“Try it and I’ll have to get even with you.”

“How do you figure you’ll do that?”

“I’ll tell everyone about you kissing the goat.”

Laughter rolled through him. “Lord, I haven’t thought about that in years. The Colton twins dared me to do it.”

“The way I heard it, they didn’t dare you to do it at the summer dance. Taking that poor goat as your date was purely your idea. I can’t wait to see what the guys in the unit do when they find out you make out with goats,” she gloated.

He groaned. “Okay, fine. No pictures tomorrow. Truce?” He held out a hand to shake on the deal.

She reached for his hand but failed to take into account the coffee table between them and pitched over it into the sofa. Fortunately, the piece was overstuffed and broke her fall without injury.

“Remind me to wear body armor under my tux tomorrow night,” he declared. “I’m going to need it if I’m going to dance with you.”

Her response was muffled by the sofa cushions, but given the irritation in her voice, he was glad he couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m heading home, Mendez. Give me a call in the morning if you come up with anything new overnight.”

Something unrepeatable floated out of the sofa pillow. Laughing quietly, he walked out the door.

Alex stared at the closed door and all but burst into tears. When was she going to stop turning into a complete klutz every time he touched her or walked into the room with her?

A black-tie dinner dance, huh? With Jim Kelley? She was so hosed. The only dress she owned was the one she’d worn to her uncle’s funeral a few years ago, and it had managed to be out of style even then.

Desperate, she picked up her phone and made a panicked call. “Carla, you’ve got to save my life.”

She’d gone to high school with Carla Grant back in Maple Cove and the young woman had come to town recently to work in the new Washington, D.C., office of Walsh Enterprises, an oil and gas exploration company headquartered back in Montana.

“What’s up, Alex?” Carla laughed. “Did you get lost in a department store and accidentally wander into the women’s clothing section? Remember, you get your clothes in men’s wear.”

“Very funny. That’s my problem. I’ve got to get a dress. A long one. For a fancy dance. I have to do makeup and everything. And, ohmigosh, my hair. I can’t wear a ponytail to this thing.”

“Whoa! You have a date? With a living, breathing man? Spill, girlfriend.”

Alex scowled. “I’ve been invited to a fundraiser for the senator I work for.”

“By whom? Not one of those gay Congressional staffers using you to convince people they’re straight?” Carla demanded.

“No. Jim Kelley.”

Silence came from the other end of the line. Had she given Carla a no-kidding heart attack? “Did I kill you?” Alex asked anxiously as the silence stretched out.

An ear-splitting scream erupted in her ear, making Alex yank the phone away from her head. From arm’s length, she still heard Carla squeal, “Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell. He’s going to a fundraiser and had to bring a guest. I guess he’s between blonde confections right now and had to grab the first available female on short notice. Or maybe the last available female,” she added a little sourly.

“When’s this big event of yours?” Carla demanded, getting down to the serious business of date preparation.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Oh my God. Call in sick tomorrow. I’ll do the same. This is going to take us all day.”

“How long does it take to shop for one lousy dress, anyway?” Alex asked in alarm.

“It’s not just a dress. There are the shoes and lingerie and makeup and hair, the mani-pedi—”

Alex made a sound of distress.

“—don’t you worry. Leave it all to me.”

Like Alex had any choice. She was completely clueless about all this girl stuff. Her mother had taken off when she was an infant and she’d only had her dad and a ranch full of cowboys to raise her. Which had been bad enough. But when Arturo had died, everything had changed.

It wasn’t as if she’d had any choice but to try to step into her dead brother’s shoes. Her father was so distraught she’d been terrified she’d lose him, too. If becoming her older brother in every way she could manage saved her dad, she’d been willing to do it. Even if it had cost her dresses and dating and growing gracefully into a young woman.

She’d even gone into the army, like Arturo was supposed to do. And the army wasn’t exactly a bastion of instruction in the feminine arts. She’d gotten her college degree mostly online while she bounced around from army post to army post, secretly trying to catch up with Jim Kelley.

Even the assignment to Chandler’s office hadn’t helped much. The man had only a few female staffers, and rumor had it they were on staff only because of old charges of sexism against Chet. The women in Chandler’s office were so busy proving they were as good as the boys that they didn’t wallow in things feminine much, either.

“I’ll be there at 10:00 a.m. sharp,” Carla announced, breaking Alex’s gloomy train of thought. “That’s when the malls open.”

“Right. Ten o’clock.” She gave Carla quick instructions to the love nest and then added, “Thanks, Carla.”

“Hey. What are friends for?”