Читать книгу Beneath the Surface - Meredith Fletcher - Страница 13

Shannon ran around to the other side of the car and found it locked. She rapped on the window, which was somehow miraculously still intact.

The man looked at her for a moment, then spoke as if talking to himself. Maybe he was cursing whatever impulse persuaded him to get involved with her.

Shannon rapped again. She didn’t want whatever story he represented to just ride off into the night. Not only that, he obviously knew Vincent Drago. It was also possible that he knew why Drago had decided to kill her.

“Open the door,” Shannon ordered.

The man just looked at her. The sirens screamed more loudly and sounded closer.

Shannon took a page from his book. Mirroring the way someone treated her in an interview—a noncombative one, at least—often bought some trust and generosity. The wraparound sunglasses didn’t look inviting at all, though.

“Please,” she said in the same no-nonsense tone he’d used when he’d asked her.

This time the man leaned over and unlocked the door.

“Thank you.” Shannon slid inside the car. She glanced distastefully at the exploded headrest. The cottony fuzz was going to make a mess of her hair.

“Belt up,” the man ordered as he got the car under way.

“Are you always this friendly when you meet someone?” Shannon asked before she could stop herself. She reached for the seat belt and put it on.

The man’s voice was ice and his face was carved granite. “I don’t normally have to kill three people to get to know someone.”

“Did you go to the bar to meet Vincent Drago?” Shannon asked.

The man drove quickly. From the way he made the turns through the streets, Shannon figured he was a native to the city.

“No,” he said.

“It didn’t take you long to decide you didn’t like him.”

The man turned to her and grinned, but the effort was mirthless. “It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t like you. Do you normally have that effect on people?”

Shannon frowned. “Drago and I had already met.”

“So how long did it take him to decide to kill you?”

“Are you always such a charming conversationalist?”

“I’m a charming guy.” He turned back to face forward as the stoplight turned green.

“Why were you there?”

“Why were you?”

Shannon studied him and tried to find all the things about him that made him unique. “Drago was a private investigator.”

The man nodded. “He specialized in electronic information and data management.”

“You knew that about Drago, but you’d never met him? I find that interesting. And how did you know my name?”

“I’ve seen you on television.”

“You’re a fan?”

“You might say that.”

Shannon didn’t believe that. He didn’t seem like the type to spend his life rooted in front of a television. He looked like more of a hunter or a fisherman.

“Then how did you just happen to be there at that bar tonight?” she asked.

The man checked the rearview mirror and the one remaining side mirror. “Why don’t you give me a few minutes before you keep hammering me with questions?”

“Sure.” Shannon debated retrieving her iPhone and taking his picture. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t like the idea. She also knew she was going to have a hard time holding the questions back.

“Head downtown,” Allison said.

Without responding, knowing Shannon Connor would be listening to every word he said, Rafe followed the directions Allison gave him. He’d worked in Washington before, so the city wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to him.

“I know you can’t talk,” Allison went on, “so I’ll try to hold up both ends of the conversation for you.”

Rafe didn’t reply. He didn’t want Shannon to know he was connected to someone else. He concentrated on driving. D.C. was a city trapped between disparate economies. Citizens drove new cars as well as beaters. He fit in. The only problem was that his beater was newer than most of the others around him.

Gradually Allison gave him directions that took him to a public pay lot near the late-night action on U Street. It was shortly after midnight and the Washington, D.C., club scene had come to life.

The bars and taverns would stay filled with political and military aides and employees until the small hours of the morning. The city’s nightlife was one of the most active in the country. Newspapers, magazines and Web sites were dedicated to the topic in an effort to keep everyone up to date regarding entertainment.

“Half a block up on the right,” Allison said. “The lot there has a lockbox, not a human operator.”

That was good. No one on duty meant no eyewitnesses later. Rafe didn’t worry about being identified himself, but Shannon Connor was way too high-profile.

“I’ll have the car taken care of,” Allison went on. “After you walk away from it, someone will pick it up. That car will never be seen again.”

Rafe was impressed.

“I have a lot of friends,” Allison said.

And it was spooky how she seemed to read his mind. He wondered if she knew how irritated he was at being left so far in the dark.

“I’ll tell you more as soon as I get you in a safe spot,” Allison went on.

Rafe almost laughed, but he figured that Shannon would think she’d crawled into the car with a crazy man. That wasn’t exactly the impression he wanted to make.

“I’m going to need you to sit with her a little longer,” Allison said.

“Where are we going?” Shannon asked.

“To get rid of the car.” Rafe signaled and made the turn onto the lot. “Unless you want investigators to find your fingerprints in here and come ask you a lot of questions.” He glanced at her.

“No,” she replied.

During the last few minutes he’d found looking at her easier and easier to do. Shannon Connor was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. Her long blond hair was currently a tangled mess, but it gave her a wild, untamed look that threatened to take his breath away. Her blue eyes seemed to drink him in every time she looked at him. Even wearing disheveled clothing, her figure was striking.

Keep your mind on the job, he told himself. But he was acutely aware of how long it had been since he’d met a woman who intrigued him.

In Jacksonville there had been a steady buffet of women with which to lose hours, evenings and even whole weekends. All of them had been fun to be around, and many of them had possessed personalities that were interesting.

But when he’d first laid eyes on Shannon Connor, Rafe had been aware of a deepening interest that normally didn’t seize him just from looking at someone of the opposite sex. Having Allison hold back information about the woman had made Shannon even more intriguing.

The fact that she hadn’t continued running, that she’d come back when he’d asked, had created even more curiosity.

Unfortunately he’d bought further into the idea of taking responsibility for her, as well. That had been a drawback in his work performance that more than one supervisor had noted. And ultimately it had been that trait—becoming a little more involved than he should have—that had gotten him caught in North Korea.

This situation was starting to feel uncomfortably close to that business.

“This lot is full,” Shannon said.

Rafe had to agree that things looked pretty hopeless. The bars and nightclubs got slammed on most nights, and tonight was Friday.

“There’s a parking space two rows ahead and on the right,” Allison said.

Rafe glanced around and spotted the camera at the back of the large lot. That could be a problem.

“Don’t worry about the camera,” Allison said. “I’ve already got that under control. It’s going to experience technical difficulties that will wipe the night’s digital recording starting one hour ago.”

Rafe smiled at that.

“What’s so funny?” Shannon asked.

Rafe pointed at the parking space. “We got lucky.” He pulled into the space and started to get out.

Shannon unfastened her seat belt and started to get out, as well.

“Give me a minute, okay?” Rafe asked.

Suspicion darkened Shannon’s features. “Why?”

“I’ve got to make a call.”

“To whom?”

“Someone who wants to know that you’re safe.”

“I generally know all of those people.”

Rafe ran a hand over his face. His whiskers felt rough. “Please.”

“Being polite doesn’t always get you what you want.”

In spite of his best efforts, Rafe let a little of his anger show. The pain in his knee had increased and showed definite signs of staying around for a while. “Saying please beats the hell out of getting a roll of duct tape out of the back of the car and restraining you.” He smiled when he said that.

Shannon blinked at him in surprise. “You’d do that?”

“At this point, yes.”

She folded her arms. “What happened to the knight in shining armor who saved me and asked me to get in the car?”

“Rescuing you is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.”

“I didn’t know I needed to be rescued.”

Rafe snorted and shook his head. “You’re a television reporter, lady. Not exactly in league with guys like Vincent Drago.”