One Sizzling Night

Neil’s meeting should be over by now, although if he ran late, that would be fine. As long as they were done in an hour, so she’d have time for yoga and a shower before Logan arrived.

After pouring herself a glass of water, she sat on the ultrasoft leather couch. “Call Neil Patterson.” The monitor popped up on the wall. There was no connection yet, but he’d see she was waiting.

Closing her eyes, she did some deep breathing to get herself settled. The whole day she’d felt as if a giant clock was ticking, the window for her to actually pull her father’s ass out of the fire dwindling by the second. Obsessively checking online for news of his possible capture hadn’t helped. It was a ridiculous waste of time since she knew Neil would keep her informed.

Holstrom hadn’t called her. Not yet. Not even to make plans for another night when he wasn’t booked. It made sense. He was the type of man who needed to make it perfectly clear that things ran on his schedule, or they didn’t run at all.

“You look comfortable.”

She opened her eyes, startled at her boss’s voice. “It’s easy to look comfortable in this apartment. My God. You have to stay here. It’s amazing.”

“I’m aware.”

She smiled at herself. “Of course you are.”

“But I imagine being there for the experience is very different from looking at schematics and plans.” His gaze moved from her to her surroundings. “That isn’t your room. Are you sure we shouldn’t talk somewhere more private?”

“Logan won’t be back until after 6:30. I made sure,” she said, feeling anxious. But if he had bad news, Neil would have said so already. “I was able to get into the party last night. A lot of interesting people were there. I can honestly say if that room had been blown up, maps would have to be rewritten. Not to mention the financial chaos that would ensue across the globe.”

“So a typical Holstrom party, then.”

She smiled. “I did get him to take my number. He asked if I’d be amenable to drinks or dinner and I made sure he understood I was very open to seeing him again.”

“He’ll call. He’s probably been checking out your background.”

“Well, he sure won’t find anything we don’t want him to find. Your friend Sam is amazingly gifted at manipulating a person’s digital presence. I almost believed some of the tweaks she made to my background.”

“Yes, she does great work.”

Kensey took another quick sip of water to soothe her dry mouth. It was nerves, of course, but she wished it would stop. When she put the glass down, she said, “Is there anything new?”

Neil leaned back in his leather chair. He was still in Tarrytown. It was hard to believe all that had happened in the past thirty hours.

“We haven’t learned much,” he said. “We know that Detective Brown hasn’t found your father. In fact, I don’t think he knows where to start.”

“We?”

“I have a man on this. Your father didn’t leave any trail. They may not find him. Ever.”

Oddly, she didn’t feel as relieved as she should. The little girl in her wanted to see him. Not in handcuffs, certainly, but if he disappeared forever... She shook her head at herself, then remembered Neil could see her.

Straightening, she said, “In the little digging I was able to do, I found out that Seymour has sold off some of his art collection. No major pieces, but enough to make me think he might be in some financial trouble.”

Neil nodded. “He’s dug himself a deep pit. He might even be in bed with some money lenders—the kind who don’t threaten with lawsuits. Whatever he’s done, he’s nervous. My friend thinks Seymour will be the one to crack, and I’m inclined to agree. If he doesn’t have a full payout from Lloyd’s of London, he could lose his estate. And then there’s Brown. If he’s involved, he might be desperate enough to do something stupid. Before it was about ego. The longer this plays out, the more he has at stake than just losing his pension.”

“You’ve been busy.” Kensey shook her head. “I’m guessing you hired your ‘friend’ the minute I walked out of your office?”

“Phil’s good at what he does.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I know your schedule better than you do, and you don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not actually the one doing the legwork, Kensey.” He leaned forward, put his arms on his desk and looked right into the eye of his computer lens. “We’re going to throw everything we’ve got at this problem. Holstrom might not have the Degas. And to be honest, finding the connection between Seymour and Brown and proving they conspired is the best way to help your father.”

“Thank you,” she managed. She wasn’t good at this part. Saying things that mattered. Neil was more like a father to her than her own. He was an unconditional friend and mentor, and every time she saw that in action, she was floored.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if the roles were reversed.”

She nodded, doing her best not to put up the controlled mask she wore whenever she was uncomfortable. “I’ll keep moving forward out here. If Holstrom doesn’t call by tomorrow, I’ll give him another reminder.”

“Let’s hope we have a break on this end and you can leave Boston without ever seeing the bastard again.”

What Kensey wouldn’t give for that outcome. “One more thing. I’m curious. Do you know much about Logan McCabe? Other than he’s an old friend of Sam’s and that he’s ex-military. There’s shockingly little about him that comes up in a traditional search.”

“No, I don’t. Sam has never said, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t just in special operations. I think he was in black ops. That means he’s smart as hell, cagey and I wouldn’t want to mess with him.”

“Black ops? That’s CIA stuff, right?”

“I think so, yes. But again, Sam hasn’t said. Either she doesn’t know, or she’s not allowed to say.”

Kensey thought about Logan and his Pliny the Elder beer. How he’d looked at her when he’d seen her in her warrior dress. His easy smile. He was fit as hell, but lots of men were. But black ops, though? That put him in a very special league.

She smiled. “Okay. So, I don’t need to worry about him.”

“I never said that.”

Her cheery facade vanished. “Well, that’s helpful. Should I be worried?”

“No. Just careful.” Neil frowned. “Is he giving you trouble?”

“No. It’s just unsettling sharing the place with a stranger.”

“I know,” he said, using his professor voice. “Remember, you’re not alone in this. So don’t push Holstrom too far. He’s a tricky prick.” Neil leaned back. “Tell you the truth, I feel better knowing you have someone like McCabe around.”

Kensey wasn’t sure she agreed or wanted to think about what that meant regarding the risk she was taking, so she just nodded.

“Unless something breaks tonight, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

Long after they’d disconnected, she sat staring at the blank gray wall.

5

UNSURPRISINGLY EXHAUSTED, LOGAN put his key in the door, looking forward to a quick shower then dinner with Kensey.

He didn’t give a damn about what was on the menu. He’d eaten more army rations than he cared to think about. All he wanted was to talk to Kensey. Get to know her better. Then have a lot of sex.

Music met him with a bang. Hard rock, served very loud. Was she nuts?

He headed straight into the living room.

Shit.

There she was. Wearing really tiny black yoga shorts. And a white tank top, which looked a great deal like the undershirts in his dresser drawer. They looked much better on her.

She was on a yoga mat, doing a handstand with her legs curled round over her head so that her feet touched her forehead.

The scorpion was a bitch of a pose. Especially for men. He knew. He’d used yoga a lot during his deployments and kept up with it at home. Keeping limber was one of the first truly valuable lessons he’d learned in self-defense. But he’d never listened to AC/DC while trying to find his spiritual center.

Of course, he was mesmerized. By her perfect form, her perfect body. She couldn’t see him from this angle, and he didn’t move, afraid to startle her lest she hurt herself. But mostly, he was just in awe. No training at all, she’d said. What a load. She was in better shape than some Navy SEALs he knew.

As he watched, she raised her legs into a regular handstand and did a few elbow dips. Then, boom, the music changed to typical yoga crap. A few seconds later, she shifted so that she was balancing the weight of her body entirely on one hand. A single-handed handstand. Every part of her body was stunning, her balance superb and she could call him McBabe every other minute, it wouldn’t stop him from getting hard.

“Hello?” she said, still on just the one hand and unable to look his way.

“Just me. Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Wait.”

He knew she couldn’t see him, yet she had sensed someone was standing there and had stayed completely cool. Just like yesterday when she’d been wearing nothing but a towel. Interesting. “Yeah?”

“Are you always early? I mean, is it a thing? A little OCD maybe?”

“No. In fact, I only started doing it to annoy you.”

“Ah,” she said, still on the one damn hand. The way her muscles shifted to keep her balance was like an intricate ballet. “Thought so.”

“Change of subject, while you’re in a conversational mood. Think you could teach me that?”

“Sure. Give me about ten years, and voilà—you’ll be a yoga master.”

“Ten years. Ha. I get it. That’s a joke.” Okay, smartass. Game on. “No seriously. How about that thing you were doing a minute ago?”

“The scorpion?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe. Can you do a handstand?”

“I’m ex-military. I can do fifty before breakfast.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called cheerleading, but, hey, to each his own.”

“Again. Funny. Anyway, I’ll wait until you’re done. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself and blame me.”

She transitioned into a double-handed handstand, then lowered herself into a sitting position in one of the most graceful moves he’d ever seen. “Take off your shoes,” she said.

He didn’t think twice about it, just took ’em off where he stood.

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