Sex, Lies & Black Tie Page 3
“Are you too busy to head up an assignment?”
I slowed the car to a stop, pulling to the side of the road. “What kind of assignment?”
“I’m assuming you know a bunch of muckety mucks are coming to your place for a shindig.”
“The black tie thing for North Star.”
“You got it. There was no way in hell we were sending some snot-nosed kid right off the Farm to head it up. I’d rather have you wrangling the boys of the Secret Service and the few agents we will send if that’s all right. It won’t be anything too exciting, but—”
“No,” I said cutting him off. “It’s fine. No problem—happy to help out.”
“I’d be lying Callahan, if I didn’t say we missed you around here.”
I took a deep breath. “I miss being there.”
“Can you make your way up to D.C. tomorrow to get with the small advance team of the Secret Service? They’re uncertain as to who will show at this event—you know the President and Secretary of State are on the list, but that could mean anything. The Vice President could show in their absence. You know the routine.”
“I’m happy to help, Dan.”
“Great. Get your ass up here pronto. I’m not the only one who misses your ugly face.”
I leaned back in the bucket seat, the leather belching under my shifting weight and pictured her in my head. Dark hair, tattoos, the mouth of a trucker and one of my favorite women of all time. “How is Micah?”
“You know, the usual—making most of the agents’ lives a living hell. None of them know what they’d do without her—just like you used to be.”
I nodded to myself. “I feel their pain.”
“I’ll have her give you a call to make the flight arrangements,” Dan said.
“Roger that.”
“It’s good to have you back on the team, Mac.”
I took a deep breath and without thinking, puffed my chest “It’s good to be back.”
72.17.199.48
Name: Nicole
Age: 18 years old
Ethnic origin: Caucasian
Country of Origin: Romania
Acquired in: Paris
Held in: EU
Weight: 47 kg
Measurements: 32A-24-33
No STD’s
Name: David
Age: 19 years old
Ethnic origin: Black
Country of Origin: Nigeria
Acquired in: Rome
Held in EU
Weight: 66 kg
Measurements: 177 cm Waist 80 cm
No STD’s
Name: Francis
Age: 18
Ethnic origin: Caucasian
Country of Origin: United States
Acquired in: United States
Held in: US
Weight: 55 kg
Measurements: 34D- 26-35
No STD’s
2
MAC
When the elevator door opened, I did my best to keep the shit-eating grin from overtaking my usual poker face. I failed. In my former life, I dreaded walking through these doors most mornings. Vacillating between feeling guilty for whatever conquest I’d had the night before and being pissed about whatever case I was working on, the J. Edgar Hoover building on Pennsylvania Avenue held more than enough memories for me. The smell of bad coffee, frustration, starched shirts and oversized egos were unmistakable. This was it. This was the FBI.
“Look at what the cat dragged in.”
Her rasp and tone were unmistakable. I’d not seen her in over a year but it didn’t matter. Micah and I had the kind of relationship time and distance couldn’t diminish. I walked behind her desk to meet her where she stood and breaking protocol, wrapped her in a tight bear hug.
“What tha—?” she began.
“You can spin it however you’d like, Micah. You’re happy to see me,” I whispered into her shoulder.
She gasped as I pressed the air from her lungs a second time. When she gripped my shoulders, I knew I had her. It felt like coming home.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d gone soft, Callahan.”
It was true. I’d been a hard ass around the office, with Micah usually taking the brunt of it. Even though she was my assistant, she never had a problem telling me I was being an asshole. I respected her immensely and listened to her—most of the time.
Letting go, I stepped back to get a good look at her. She still had several earrings in her right ear only, and her many tattoos were mostly hidden under her long, dark sweater. Her black hair and eyes matched her attitude and no nonsense approach to work and life. I spied a tattoo on her hand I’d never seen before—the number 477, 800. I nodded toward it with a smile. “New?”
She stared at me and pursed her lips, giving me an awkward scowl. “Just a little something Frankie and I did together. It’s the distance to the moon and back.”
I smiled. Now that I was a dad, I knew exactly what that meant. “How is your little sister? Ever make it out of those braces alive?”
Micah laughed and shook her head. “She’s nineteen and in college at George Mason, Mac. You’ve missed a few years.”
“College? Wow. When did she grow up?”
“While you were growing old,” Micah said with a jeer. “She’s in New York this week with one of her art classes. They’re doing four days at Parsons School of Design. Anyway, the tattoo is just a private thing—between the two of us. I honestly don’t even know why I told you the meaning. I’ve never told anyone else.”
Micah looked to her feet, trying to conceal her smile. I could tell she was having a hard time hiding how happy she was to see me. “Have you inked that baby soft skin of yours yet?” she asked.
I shook my head. I could handle shoot outs, terrorists, killers, and bombs. What I couldn’t handle were needles. “You know I’m not as tough as you, Micah.”
“Not many men are,” she replied with a rasp. “It’s why I’m still on the market.”
“I don’t doubt that in the slightest, darlin’.”
“Callahan!”
I turned to find Dan Kelley hanging in the doorway of his office. “Get your ass in here and let’s talk. I don’t have all day for a family reunion. We’ve got a damn garden party or some shit going down.”
Giving Micah a glance over my shoulder, she mouthed, some things never change.
With a tight grip, my former boss gave me a nod and a handshake. Dan was the kind of crusty-grumpy you saw in old men who found little joy in life anymore. Still, I knew he was happy to see me. The feeling was mutual. I found my way into the chair in front of his desk. A familiar feeling overcame me as I sat back, comfortable in my old habitat.
“How’s life in the slow lane?”
“It’s good. Sam’s great, the kids are growing like weeds—”
“Great…great,” Dan said cutting me off. Reunion and bad attitude aside, he was still a busy man. “Listen, I know this isn’t the kind of assignment you’d normally want, but…”
“No. I wouldn’t want another agent working with the Secret Service. It’s Lone Oak. No one knows her like I do.”
“You know I always got a kick out of your genteel ways,” Dan said. He wasn’t purposely mocking me, but still, he was. “The way you refer to your house like it’s a person.”
I shrugged. It was hard to explain how a home that remained in one family for over two hundred years and contained so much history was like a member of the family. It was enigmatic to most, so I usually backed away from an explanation. As long as I raised my kids and they raised theirs to understand and appreciate the importance of family and tradition, Lone Oak would stand, and they too would feel the inexplicable connection.
“It’s a beautiful place,” Dan continued, filling the silence. “I’m happy for you. Really I am. It’s better than this pile of shit, that’s for sure.”
I could read the stress on Dan’s face. I’d only been gone a couple of years, but he’d aged ten.
“North Star,” I replied. “It’s a nonprofit working in the field of human trafficking.”
Dan’s demeanor changed from business as usual to a sigh of defeat. “We need all the help we can get in that department.”
“You in the middle of something?”
“We’re always in the middle of something. It’s never-ending. The longer I’m here, the more the world is filled with shittier and shittier people. Be glad you don’t have to operate in the cesspool any more. You can sit on the back porch of your southern plantation, drink sweet tea and watch your hot wife and adorable kids.” Dan took a troubled breath, letting it out slowly.
“Anything I can help with?”
“I tell you to be happy you’re out, and you want back in?”
I shrugged the heaviness from my shoulders. “You might be surprised at how much I miss the action.”
Dan tossed a folder across his desk from one pile to another. He looked tired, overworked and past due for time off. “Take my advice. Don’t be lured back just for the action. Most of the guys we’re taking down these days are such twisted assholes, I can’t even sleep at night.”
I stared at him and blinked. I wasn’t sleeping, thinking of what I could be doing in the field. I didn’t know how actually doing it would rob me of even more nights.
“How long are you in town?” Dan asked.
“Just a couple of days. I’m meeting with Senator Henry and my old instructor from Quantico, Harlan Jackman. I guess he’s hanging up his badge for a career in politics.”
“Yeah, seems like a lot of senators and congressmen are turning to ex-agents and military folks these days. Good to have someone on their team who knows how policy translates into the real world. It’s hard to fight evil if the biggest opposition you’ve had is an old lady wielding a microphone and an agenda at a town hall meeting.
“Yeah, but Jackman’s more than a military guy—he’s a tech guru.”
“Even more reason for Henry to have him on his team.”
Dan rubbed the dark circles under his eyes and continued around his face. I knew burnout when I saw it. This was it.
“It’ll be good to catch up with him and meet Senator Henry. I’ve teased Samantha for months that she’s got a thing for the guy. They’ve worked closely on this project.”
“I wish I could say if there’s anything I can do let me know, but the truth of the matter is I’m grateful you’re here to take it off my hands.”
“Of course.”
Dan and I stared at each other briefly and for a moment I thought perhaps he was jealous of me. Jealous of the fact that I’d made it out with my physical and mental well-being intact. It wasn’t that way for many of the agents, and I feared that Dan was heading down that road himself.
“Have you guys finished patting each other on the back in here?”
I turned to find Micah standing in the doorway. In all black, I noticed the pin at her collarbone—a skull and crossbones. Micah danced on the edge of permissible attire at the office, but her ability to barely stay inside the lines of acceptable behavior and dress was one of her more attractive qualities. She was a badass, and she owned it.
“He’s all yours,” Dan replied.
“God knows I don’t want him, but I suppose I should get him what he needs before his meeting with Senator Henry and Agent Jackman,” Micah said with a caring smirk on her face.
“It’s so nice to be back,” I said looking to Dan, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Makes me forget why I ever left.”
“Both of you get out,” Dan snapped. “Now.”
“Thank you Agent Kelley. It was a pleasure to see you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cut the crap. We’ll talk tomorrow. There’s no way punting this to you will be simple. It never is.”
Micah waited for me outside Dan’s office and I glanced at the clock above her desk. It was four thirty in the afternoon and I had dinner plans with Henry and Jackman at six. “Give me what you’ve got. I only have a couple hours before meeting the senator for dinner.”
“You’ve got more time than that,” she said pointing me toward a chair in front of her desk. “Henry’s office just called to reschedule. You have lunch with them tomorrow.”
“What? I thought this damn party was in four days and I needed to come asap. I wish I’d known this before flying in today.”
“Poor baby,” Micah whined. “Look, we both know you’re—what is it you used to say? Happier than a pig in shit—to be here. You miss it. I know it, you know it, and your wife knows it. You’re not fooling anyone, so drop the act.”
Scowling, I shook my head at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. I know you and I know you’re so happy to be in D.C. right now, even if it is just to work with the advance team for your wife’s party. C’mon Mac, you can hardly contain your excitement.”
The smug look on her face was proof she knew she’d outed me. It didn’t mean I had to admit to it. “Whatever, Micah. Just give me the details on tomorrow and hand over what I need to know. I’m heading to my place for the night.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked, placing the folder in my eager hand. “You still keep your brownstone here? Why?”
I shrugged and she responded with a knowing gasp. “You keep it hoping that you’ll need to come back here and work—just like this. Holy shit. That’s it.”
“You know,” I began as I wedged my empty hand on my hip. “You can take me from zero to pissed as hell in sixty seconds. Why do you care why I keep a place here?”
“Oh calm down. You’re such an excitable boy.”
For better or for worse, Micah knew my hot buttons.
“It’s just …you’re so easy to piss off, Mac. Still.”
I popped my eyebrows to let her know I’d had enough. We’d been apart, but she knew my cues, and that was one of them.
“Let me make it up to you. You seem to have an opening in your dinner schedule. Wanna eat? I’ll even let you swipe through all the beautifully annoying pictures of the family on your phone for me. Besides, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk with you about—something I couldn’t do over the phone.”
Rocking on my heels, I thought perhaps Micah wanted to tell me about a new love in her life. Something I’d wanted for her for a long time. “Fine. But I’m buying.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, my gentleman friend, but I’m picking the place.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
The taxi sputtered to a stop in front of my old bachelor pad on Massachusetts Avenue. It had been months since I’d even given the place a second thought and even longer since I’d been here. A service cleaned the house once a month and monitored the mail and security. Sam had called ahead for me and asked for the linens to be fresh. I prayed she’d requested some bottled water and coffee too.
The driver pulled away as I stared up at the three story brownstone. “If these walls could talk,” I muttered.
Lugging my briefcase and valise up the front steps, I punched in the key code and waited for the front door to open. Lights automatically illuminated the hallway of the still sparsely decorated former bachelor pad. I told Sam to decorate it however she wanted, but she said to leave it. It was a piece of history in my life. Thank God she never wanted that history lesson in full.
My phone buzzed with a text in my pants pocket before I’d had a moment to drop my bags inside the front hallway. Stepping over both of them, I went straight for the kitchen, the lights coming on as I neared my destination. It was a new feature for the brownstone—one used to give the appearance the house was occupied. Lights were programmed to turn on and off at different times of the day, but also to turn on with motion in the room. The Sub-Zero fridge was shining like a beacon in the early evening light and I opened it to find not only a six of Stella, but a fully stocked fridge.
I didn’t have this much food in the place when I lived here full time.
“Thank you, darlin’” I said, thinking of my bride.
Pulling the phone from my pocket to call and thank Sam, I remembered the text.
MICAH: Picking your sorry ass up at 6. Lose the suit. Bring the wallet.
I twisted the top off the beer and sat on the oversized leather couch that filled the den, pressing the green On button for the flat screen TV. As I propped up my feet, I was suddenly aware of the silence around me. These days, Lone Oak was anything but quiet. Between the kids running around and the many people who worked in and outside the house, it was hard to find a moment alone. Now in a peaceful space, I took one long swig of beer and swallowed, leaning my head against the coolness of the leather couch. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath.
Three loud raps at my front door and I startled to a standing position, reaching for a non-existent gun at my waist. I’d fallen asleep.
“C’mon Mac, open up!”
Dazed, I looked around the room, realizing where I was and picked up a spilled beer bottle from the hardwood floor. “Shit,” I murmured, tripping over my own feet to glance at my watch. “Shit,” I said again now seeing that it was six o’clock.
Opening the door, I found Micah leaning against the doorframe, unhappy. “Sorry. I dozed off,” I said.
“What the hell, Callahan? Asleep at six?”
“No,” I said, walking away from her. “Napping at six. It was too quiet. I couldn’t help myself.”
“I’ll give you two minutes, Mac. Two.”
Staring down at Micah, I picked up my valise and climbed the staircase that led to the master bedroom. “Jesus, you’re bossy.”
“I don’t work for you anymore so I have no trouble saying this. Stop being a little dick.”
“C’mon Micah,” I teased. “We both know good and well I’ve got a big dick.”
3
SAMANTHA
I ran my fingers across the silver spoons on the parlor table set up for tea, drawing them into a fist of anxiety when I heard the doorbell chime. I’d waited a long time to meet Boone Henry in person. We’d spoken on the phone too many times to count, but it was always different meeting someone in the flesh. I found my stomach in knots as if I was going on a blind date.