Читать книгу Reluctant Hero - Debra Regan - Страница 9

Chapter Two

The gala wasn’t living up to Becca’s hopes for the evening. Oh, the glitz and glamour made a visual impact, although her date clearly had an agenda. His conversation revolved around her father’s work, and he hoped one day to work with him on a project. The scenario was familiar territory for Becca, who listened with only half an ear as he droned on. If he could pitch his big idea to her father and add a side trip under her skirt, his life would be complete. He didn’t say that last part in so many words, of course. He let his wandering hands make his point clear.

She admired the timing and efficiency of the dinner and award presentations, but now, with only dancing, celebrating and mingling on the schedule, her mind kept circling back to Parker Lawton’s shocking appearance at her door.

Did he often slum around dressed like a normal person rather than a new-money billionaire? She glanced across the room, trying to picture Rush Grayson, local billionaire and one of tonight’s award winners, dressed as a typical workingman. Could happen, she supposed, squinting a little. She shook off the distraction. How Lawton dressed wasn’t the point. He’d bullied his way into her personal space. She should report him, except the police would laugh her out of the station. Everyone presumed reporters resorted to similar tactics and worse when pursuing a story.

“I’m not sure I like the way you’re staring at my husband.”

With a start, Becca turned to see Rush’s wife at her side, smiling and holding out a glass of champagne. “Oh! Hi, Lucy.” Thank goodness it was a friend who understood Becca could appear more than a little fierce when she was concentrating. “Congratulations to Rush.”

“I’ll pass it along.” Lucy was radiant in a strapless ice-blue gown, pride in her husband sparkling in her dark eyes. “Dare I ask who has your attention?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a story. Well, it is, sort of.” Becca clamped her lips together to cease the babbling. “I’m rattled.”

“Never thought I’d see it,” Lucy said, linking her arm with Becca’s. “Do you need to walk it off?”

“Sure.” The warm offer drained a bit of the tension dogging her since Lawton’s appearance. “Some distance from Mr. Grab Hands wouldn’t hurt.”

Lucy’s expression sobered. “Do you need an assist?”

“No. I have plenty of practice brushing off people who only want to meet Dad.” She glanced over her shoulder to see her date occupied with the men they’d been seated with at dinner. Eventually, he’d notice she’d left and come racing after her with an inane compliment on his lips before he suggested a weekend in LA. “You’d think the red hair would make guys like that more wary of the reputed temper.”

“The freckles undermine the effect,” Lucy said, echoing Becca’s theory. “Want me to get him tossed out? Rush and I can take you home.”

“Not yet.” Becca’s gaze meandered as they walked from the ballroom to the mezzanine, where guests milled around between the open bar stations. She searched for a safer topic. “It seems married life agrees with both of you.”

“It does,” Lucy said. “I know people think I married him for the money, but the opposite is true. He married me for my common sense.”

Becca chuckled. Although Lucy and Rush might not have had smooth sailing on their journey to wedded bliss, it was absolutely clear it was a love story.

“You know, most of the serious money in San Francisco is represented right here and some of it is single,” Lucy teased.

Most. By reputation or introduction, she knew many of the people in the room. She was well aware of who was loaded, who liked to flaunt it and who preferred flying under the radar. Until tonight, she’d had no idea Parker Lawton had a place among the financial elite. “Do you know Parker Lawton?”

“We’ve met a few times.” Lucy’s lips pursed. “Why do you ask?”

“Put away the matchmaker ideas,” she said quickly. Some days Becca cursed her rampant curiosity, fostered by her father’s habit of giving everything and everyone a fascinating backstory. Unwilling to explain how she’d first heard Lawton’s name, she gave Lucy the cover story. “He’s local and he’s had such success after his military service,” she said breezily. “Bill’s been trying to get him to sit down for an interview.”

“I expected Parker to be here tonight,” Lucy said, her eyes traveling over the guests. “I would’ve been happy to introduce you.”

That derailed Becca’s wandering thoughts. “You did? Why?”

Lucy tipped her head toward her husband, pure happiness shining in her eyes. “Because Rush invited him.”

For a moment Becca’s mind reset the evening, inserting Lawton as her date, replacing tepid compliments with witty banter and a discovery of mutual interests. The man probably had a tuxedo tailored to his impressive physique. Stop it. His wardrobe wouldn’t make any difference, she decided. If he’d been here, as her date or as a guest, he would have harangued her for the name of her source. Still better than dodging Mr. Grab Hands all night, a small voice in her head pointed out.

“How do they know each other?” Becca asked.

“Goes back to high school, I think,” Lucy replied. “Although I didn’t get the impression they were particularly close then. If you need a character endorsement, I’ll go on the record that Parker’s a stand-up guy.”

“Huh.” It seemed the safest response Becca could offer. Sticking a boot in her door wasn’t a stand-up kind of move in her book, but Lucy didn’t toss out character references willy-nilly.

“What’s next for you at the network? I know you were eyeing a move up the ladder.”

Becca mimed locking her lips and tossing away the key. “I’m happy where I am. Tell me what’s next for you. Off the record.”

Lucy’s lips curved into a smile packed with barely leashed secrets. She drew Becca a few steps away from the nearest guests. “We’re expecting,” she said, eyes twinkling. She smoothed a palm over her trim waistline as her eyes darted around to make sure no one was watching them. “I’ll be showing soon.”

“That’s wonderful,” Becca said. “You must be thrilled.”

“We’re well beyond thrilled and floating somewhere in the galaxy of obnoxiously happy parents-to-be. I feel a little sorry for everyone who knows us.”

Becca gave Lucy a heartfelt hug. “You’ll be amazing parents. The rest of us will have to get used to a new, impossibly high standard.” When she saw Lucy tearing up, she added, “I may just have to tip off one of the gossip sites.”

As she’d hoped, her friend laughed out loud and the sheen of tears vanished. “You don’t have such low friends.”

“Of course I do,” she protested. “I just keep them stashed in LA.”

Lucy laughed again and, as Rush walked toward them, Becca promised to take her for a spa day soon.

Sipping the rest of her champagne, she made a game of staying out of her date’s sight, making new friends as she worked her way around the room. She should just go home, though she wasn’t ready to be alone and she didn’t feel right about intruding on Lucy and Rush. Desperate for a distraction, she found a quieter spot and sent a text message to Bill, asking about the interview with Theo Manning.

Bill replied immediately, explaining Manning had been a no-show.

She should tell him about Lawton’s visit and had her fingers poised to do just that when she changed her mind. He’d only insist she move in with him for a couple of days. Not happening. She’d be better off getting a room here at the hotel for the evening.

When Bill asked, she shared how well the evening was not going with Mr. Grab Hands. Welcoming the snarky replies, she was soon chuckling at herself for this latest failure at establishing a personal life. Her eyes landed on Rush and Lucy on the other side of the mezzanine and she sighed.

Love was lovely for them. Becca just wasn’t cut out for the interpersonal stuff. She had her career to love. She had a stable of reporters who gave her plenty of ups and downs to juggle. She’d pit a moody reporter against the grumpiest toddler any day of the week. It might not look like a standard life, but it was hers.

Wishing Bill a good night, Becca went to find one more glass of champagne before going to the front desk to book a room. Better alone in a posh suite than home wondering when Lawton would come back and knock down her door.

* * *

AT HIS PLACE, Parker finished shaving and dressed for the gala. It seemed every breath was a new battle to keep his grief at bay. With a last check of his appearance, he decided it wouldn’t get any better tonight. He grabbed the go-bag he kept ready in the coat closet, added another change of clothes and a rain jacket considering the season. Parker planned to be a much harder target for the assassin who had double-tapped Theo. Packing up his computer, he left his apartment, one eye searching for anyone too interested in the building or himself. He thought longingly of the SUV he’d had armored and knew it was too soon to reveal that asset.

Tossing the gear into the small space behind the driver’s seat of his black-and-silver Audi R8 Spyder, he headed out, arriving at the awards gala well past the point of fashionably late. One perk was the lack of a wait at the valet stand. Easing out of the low-slung sports car, he tossed the keys to the valet. He flashed a fifty-dollar bill and pressed it into the young man’s hand. “Keep it close. I may need a quick getaway,” he said with a wink.

The kid grinned conspiratorially and promised Parker a zero wait time. Didn’t matter. With the upgraded locking system, Parker could get into his car without the key he’d handed to the valet.

As he walked through the extravagant lobby, he scanned the attendees milling about on the mezzanine level. Resisting the urge to tug at his bow tie, he did his best to believe he looked like all the rest of the men in tuxedos. Although he preferred his military mess kit on formal occasions, tonight he needed to blend in with the upper echelons of San Francisco society.

He knew it wasn’t wise to pester her again after she’d made it clear she’d speak with him tomorrow at her office. He just couldn’t wait. A man was dead, cut down in his prime by a coward who’d ambushed him. Eyeing the free-flowing champagne, Parker hoped to have more luck this time. He deserved a chance to share his side of the bogus story, to counter every unsubstantiated claim in that email.

More important, he intended to make her understand that Theo should be allowed to rest in peace, free of any scandal casting shadows over his honorable service.

She would give him the name of her source by morning, and he would take that information to Detective Baird.

At the top of the wide staircase, he wandered left, bypassing the first two bars and the long lines of men and women in glittering formal wear. Reconnaissance was the first step in getting a handle on the situation and the woman. After two circuits of the areas designated for the event and the acquisition of a champagne flute he was using as a prop, he still hadn’t found her.

She was here. He kept his gaze roving, eager for a flash of her auburn hair or those long, creamy legs. Striving for the patience he used to demonstrate in the field, he planted himself where he could watch the majority of the guests come and go.

At last he spotted her, walking up the stairs from the lobby alone. Where was her date? Her red hair gleamed, swept up off her neck in a sleek twist. The short black dress and sky-high heels with the sparkling straps winding around her ankles showed off her toned legs. At her door, in those heels, she’d been almost eye level with him. Her bright blue eyes, full of defiance and intelligence and amped up for the evening, had captivated him, putting an unexpected sizzle of attraction in his blood.

Forget that. He didn’t need her to like him, and he’d blown any possible personal advantage by being a jerk earlier. Now he’d have to adjust his approach. He moved cautiously, using the crowd as cover to follow her when she reached the top of the stairs, so she wouldn’t bolt. He wasn’t in the mood to chase her around a hotel or out into the chilly October night.

He didn’t want to tell her about Theo, didn’t want to use his friend’s death that way, but he was prepared to fight dirty and play the sympathy card if necessary. He couldn’t afford to give the blackmailer any more of a head start.

How to get a stubborn woman to talk? He drifted after her as she aimed toward the ballroom where the dinner and presentations had been held. To save the rest of the men named as targets, he needed to succeed on his first attempt, not flounder around hoping for her cooperation.

His skills didn’t run to charm, and with his heart in a vise over Theo, his patience was waning. The best option was to draw her away from the party, isolate her and make her see the wisdom of cooperating with him.

She tossed back her head, laughing at some flirty greeting from a man who appeared at her elbow offering champagne. Then she suddenly turned toward Parker, as if she’d sensed him staring.

Parker smiled, holding his ground while he waited for her to react. Her eyes went wide with recognition. From one second to the next, her initial shock shifted into a glare that would have split him in two if her eyes had been weapons. He merely raised his glass in a silent salute.

She turned away, returning her full attention to the people surrounding her.

He started toward her, taking his time, assessing the people around her as he practiced polite phrasing over and over in his head. She continued to check on his progress, something he found inappropriately satisfying under the circumstances. With growing confidence, he anticipated having her full attention, and the name of her source, before the night was over.

Fluttering her eyelashes at her entourage, she excused herself and moved toward the restrooms. Did she really think that would stop him?

Another man halted her, blocking her path just as she turned the corner. She stepped to the side and the stranger did the same, in that awkward dance of two people who were striving to be courteous.

Parker saw the danger a moment too late. The stranger’s startled expression clouded over and he yanked Rebecca around the corner and out of sight. Hurrying through the crowded space, Parker wondered why she wasn’t screaming. The woman had put up more resistance against him.

He turned into the corridor only to be blocked by a second man. Younger, trimmer than the first, he was moving into position to make sure no one interfered. Not your day, Parker thought. With two quick strikes, he disabled the sentry and pulled him out of sight of the partygoers.

He raced down the hall toward the stairwell, where Rebecca was struggling against the stranger’s hold, fighting to stay on this side of the door.

Parker charged forward.

“Halt,” the man ordered. “This is not your concern.”

Parker skidded to a stop, trying to place the clipped accent. Still fighting, Rebecca glowered, pointing an accusing finger at him, her mouth opening and closing on words she couldn’t get past her captor’s throat-crushing arm.

“Let her go,” Parker said, taking another step. The man pressed a syringe to her neck. Rebecca’s body arched violently and then went limp. “No! Stop!” Parker shouted, advancing once more.

The man’s mouth twisted into a nasty gap-toothed smile and as he wrestled Rebecca’s body into the stairwell, Parker saw a pale scar bisecting his cheek from lip to temple.

Parker leaped into action again. The stranger couldn’t have her, not when she was Parker’s best chance to identify the person trying to blackmail him and discredit his team. He plowed through the door and straight at them.

Startled, the man shoved Rebecca’s limp body at him and raced up the stairs. Parker eased her to the floor and pressed his fingers to her neck. Finding a pulse, he started after her assailant, only to hear the fire alarms go off. He didn’t believe for a second that there was a fire, but he was the only person who had good cause to doubt the alarm.

If he left her there, the accomplice could grab her or she might be injured by people fleeing the building with the false alarm. Scooping her up and over his shoulder, he hurried down the stairs, as voices of frightened people heeding the alarms and emergency lights filled the stairwell.

Knowing he couldn’t wait at the valet stand with an unconscious woman over his shoulder, he headed for the parking area. “Come on, kid, where’d you put my baby?” Pressing the panic button on the extra fob in his pocket, he waited for the response. When the lights flashed and the horn sounded, he hurried over to the Spyder and punched his code into the panel on the door.

Settling her into the seat and fastening the safety belt, he checked her pulse again before closing the passenger door and sliding into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbled at the press of the start button and he maneuvered out of the parking area before it clogged with staff and guests escaping the hotel.

“Just a producer, huh?” Parker snorted as he followed the path of least traffic resistance away from the hotel. “Someone wants you as badly as I do.”

This latest unexpected development bothered him. Was the goal chaos or was there a logical end game? All of his training warned him he was dealing with two opponents with different agendas, yet it seemed quite a coincidence that they would attack at the same time.

What he needed was more information from her and about her. He wouldn’t get the first until she woke up. There was no telling how long that would take, or if she’d be cooperative when she did. If he could find a safe place for her to sleep off the drug, he could use the time to dig deeper into her past for a possible kidnapping motive.

At the next opportunity, Parker shifted his route to head west. There was a property with an ocean view that he kept as a rental under the company name, complete with a safe room. Initially he’d planned to live there and he’d handled every detail of the security measures as an exercise to see what could be done more than because he feared a home invasion or an attack.

The rental, currently empty, would be their safest bet. He drove around for half an hour until he was sure he wasn’t being followed. When he carried Rebecca inside, he took her straight to the safe room and tucked her in on the love seat, covering her with a cashmere throw.

He removed her high heels and cleared the safe room of items she might use against him. He removed any tech that could be used to communicate with the outside world. He didn’t want her giving away their position to his—or her—enemies.

With a little luck, in a few hours she’d wake up and they could have a calm conversation without any extra ears or distractions. Armed with information, they could go their separate ways and never have to speak to each other again.