Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Page 14

  “Cut. That’s a wrap.”

  Cindy Jensen stood, and Carter followed suit. She shook his hand.

  “Thank you for being on the show today, Mr. Devlin, and good luck with your book.”

  Amanda rushed up with her clipboard, and the two women headed off the set deep in conversation.

  Carter stared after her, struggling to wrap his head around the idea of Sam Barnett running for president. The man still looked like the pretty-boy goof-off he’d been in the Army but in a more expensive suit. It was hard to imagine him putting in the time and effort required to master the issues and mount a national campaign.

  Madelyn and Herman caught his attention waiting in the wings. The publicist was buzzing like a bee locked out of the hive.

  “See, now that wasn’t so hard.” Madelyn reached out and brushed a speck of something off his sleeve.

  “It was great, just great,” Herman exclaimed, “but the talking points. You’ve got to hit the talking points.” He waved the note cards for emphasis. “You only covered half the information in these, and you need to mention the book by name in every other sentence.”

  “She had a copy standing up on the table between us.”

  Herman refused to be mollified. “The camera stayed on your faces most of the time. The viewers need to be reminded of the title.”

  He might have survived beating and torture in the past, but Carter wondered if he had the fortitude to survive three more weeks of Herman’s publicity juggernaut. “How many more interviews do you have scheduled?”

  Herman whipped out his notebook and checked the calendar.

  “Three more, one in each city. Plenty of opportunity for improvement. By the time we get back to Chicago, you’ll be an old pro.”

  Carter groaned.

  “You might want to wash your face before we head back to the hotel.” Amusement sparked in Madelyn’s dark eyes.

  His face? He rubbed his jaw then looked at his fingers. Powder. A muttered expletive slipped out, and he stalked off in search of the nearest men’s room, followed by his laughing bodyguard.

  ****

  The final event in Washington was a signing the next afternoon at a large bookstore in the sprawling Tysons Corner Center in suburban Virginia. They arrived an hour early, and a line of readers already snaked through the store. The store was located at the end of the mall next to an exit and tucked between a women’s shoe store and a jewelry boutique. It would be easy to get Carter out quickly if anything happened, but it also offered convenient escape routes for an attacker.

  This time Madelyn didn’t stand next to him at the table. The store was much larger than Undercovers and offered more lines of access. There was only one large entrance from the mall, but an escalator also brought patrons up from the first floor. If they’d been in Chicago, she would have enlisted the services of another agent or two from her staff, but that wasn’t possible here. She positioned herself some distance from the table where Carter sat signing books and scrutinized the readers who stood in line, clutching their newly-purchased copies.

  She scanned each one slowly, examining facial expressions, posture, and bags for any hint of a threat. For the most part, they looked like average suburban shoppers. Too bad killers didn’t wear a uniform. It was a grueling three hours.

  Finally, with the book cartons emptied and hundreds of fans satisfied, they made their escape.

  “That was spectacular!” Herman chirped from the back seat as Madelyn drove out of the parking structure and toward the highway back to D.C. “I can’t wait to see the first week’s sales numbers.” He leaned forward between them. “What did I tell you? It was the interview that made the difference. Did you hear all the people talking about seeing you on television?”

  “Hard to miss since I was the one they were talking to.”

  “Now, now, no cause for sarcasm. Just think of those sales figures. You’re going to be famous before you know it.” He settled back in his seat. “We need more exposure. I need to get your picture out in the public eye. I want people stopping you everywhere you go.”

  Madelyn cringed. She should have realized that once Herman felt better, he would insist on a higher public profile for Carter. From now on, it would be more difficult to explain the need to limit uncontrolled appearances. She and Carter hadn’t mentioned the shooting, and Herman was so excited by the intimidating appearance of the new armored car that he hadn’t asked the reason for the switch. He probably thought she’d finally gotten on board with the image he wanted to project.

  After breakfast the following morning, they checked out of the hotel and left for the airport. The flight to Dallas didn’t leave until early afternoon, but Herman had a brainstorm for another publicity opportunity. After they checked in and cleared security, he insisted on visiting every bookstore in the terminal.

  As a new release, The Man Behind the Curtain was prominently displayed at each location. After gaining permission from the manager, Herman set Carter to work signing the books on the table while he engaged every willing passerby in conversation. The little man’s energy and single-mindedness amazed Madelyn, but she had to admit his bold approach worked. Instead of being ignored or shunned, he actually sold books.

  By the time they boarded the plane and settled into their seats, Carter’s eyes were drooping. Madelyn could use a nap too. Keeping pace with Herman’s marketing machine would exhaust the Energizer Bunny. She popped her ear buds in place, selected a soothing instrumental piece, rested her head against the seat back, and closed her eyes, safe in the knowledge she was off duty for the duration of the flight.

  When they arrived at DFW Airport and claimed their bags, Risa had another armored car waiting. Madelyn entered the hotel address into the GPS and followed the unit’s voice commands. As they drove toward the heart of the city, the skyscrapers of downtown rose from the flat, grassy prairie like a cluster of homemade crystals in a grade school science fair project.

  They made good time and reached the hotel in the center of the Arts District in half an hour. As soon as they stepped into the lobby, she knew she was in Texas. Everything was beyond big. Huge marble columns supported the impossibly high ceiling. Oversized marble-topped tables sported enormous flower arrangements. The whole space dwarfed its occupants. She was sure her feet wouldn’t touch the ground if she sat on one of the ornate chairs.

  They checked in, and the clerk handed Herman a message along with his key. He opened it and scanned the contents.

  “Excellent.” He glanced up at Madelyn and Carter. “It’s from Mr. Avery, Senator Barnett’s chief of staff. The reception is arranged for tomorrow evening at the senator’s ranch. They’re offering to send a car.” He glanced at Madelyn.

  She shook her head. “I’m driving. Those are the rules. My assistant has researched the directions and emailed them to me. We’ll have no problem.”

  “I’ll call and let them know.”

  Herman’s smile told her he couldn’t wait to pull up to the senator’s ranch in the big black car with darkened, bullet-proof windows.

  When they reached their floor, they split off to their rooms. After settling in, Madelyn knocked on the connecting door to Carter’s room.

  “Anything funny about your room?” she asked when he opened it.

  “The pens are plain old ballpoints, and I didn’t find any other evidence of a visitor.”

  Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his hair was rumpled, and since it was a travel day he hadn’t shaved. But after the events of the past week, he’d earned the right to a few rough edges. She felt a bit rough herself. “Okay, that’s good. Mine’s clean, too. I’ve got some calls to make. Are you all right on your own this evening?”

  He mustered a half-smile. “I’d ask you to stay, but I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep the minute I sit down.”

  “See you in the morning, then.”

  After ten hours of sleep, she awoke refreshed and craving exercise. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled her hair in
to a pony tail. After slipping on her exercise gear, she knocked on Carter’s door.

  He opened it, and her empty stomach gurgled. Why did that always seem to happen when she was around him? She pressed her fist against it.

  His lips curved, but at least he didn’t laugh out loud. “Sounds like you need food.”

  Twelve more hours of growth had given his beard a definite piratical air. She swallowed hard. No woman should have to face that much raw masculinity first thing in the morning on an empty stomach. “I was wondering if you’d like to go down and exercise with me. This hotel has a gym.”

  “Sure. If you promise to have breakfast with me afterwards.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “I’ll meet you in the hall in five minutes.”

  The fourth floor gym was nearly deserted. At nine o’clock, it was past the time when business travelers could squeeze in a quick workout before the day’s meetings. The door required a room key to enter, and with her Glock resting securely in her gym bag, Madelyn judged the risk level acceptable. She selected a couple of treadmills in a row of five facing the door, allowing her to observe anyone who entered, and they started off with a brisk warm-up walk. Shortly after the pre-set program pushed the pace to a run, Herman strolled in wearing a white T-shirt tucked into tan gym shorts, white socks, and black and white basketball shoes.

  “Oh, you’re here.” He hurried over. “Great news. I got an email from the sales department this morning, and the book is climbing the charts fast. We might break the top ten on the New York Times list by next week.”

  “Congratulations to you both.” Madelyn raised her voice to carry over the pounding rhythm of their feet and the whirr of the machines.

  “And I’ve got more exciting news.” Herman climbed up on the treadmill beside her. “I was on the phone with the senator’s staff this morning discussing arrangements for the reception, and he’s invited us to stay at the ranch tonight and go riding in the morning.”

  Her stomach dropped. “Riding? On horses?”

  Herman’s eyes glittered. “Of course on horses. I’ve never been riding before. It’ll be like the Wild West.”

  That’s what she feared. She had never climbed on a horse’s back in her life and preferred to keep it that way. Besides, she had nothing to wear. “I suppose you’ve already accepted this invitation.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She turned to Carter. “And I suppose you’re an accomplished horseman in addition to your other many talents.”

  He gave her a lazy grin as he jogged in place. “I’ve been in the saddle a time or two. Syed’s family keeps an impressive stable. Horses are a good way to get around in the desert.”

  She had a sudden image of him in flowing robes atop a white steed like Lawrence of Arabia and gave herself a mental slap. She had to learn to control her runaway imagination. That way lay nothing but trouble. “I don’t think riding is a good idea. It will be difficult to provide adequate security in such an uncontrolled setting.”

  Herman dismissed her objection. “Don’t worry. We’ll be on the private ranch of a U.S. senator. He’ll have plenty of security. No one could get to Carter there.”

  Famous last words.

  Later that afternoon, as she turned onto the private road leading to Belle Rive, Madelyn was inclined to believe him. A guard checked them through before opening the gate to the long gravel drive. White metal pole fences on both sides separated the lane from countless acres of open grassland dotted with clumps of oak trees. An intruder would have to access the property on foot with very little cover.

  When the house finally came into view, she pushed her sunglasses up on her head and squinted. The place couldn’t be as big as it looked. No private home could be that big. It had to be a hotel.

  The main structure of the two-story, red brick house consisted of two wings flanking a center section with a double-decker white veranda. Including the windows, the main entrance, and five sets of French doors, she counted twenty-six openings on the front façade alone. As they swung around to pull up in front, she noticed another wing off the back that housed a multi-car garage with rooms above, probably for staff, and a short distance away was a large stable. As an embodiment of excess, it was both awesome and appalling.

  She turned to Carter. “Was Senator Barnett always this wealthy?”

  His brows pinched together in a perplexed frown. “Fifteen years ago I would have sworn he didn’t have two nickels to rub together. What money he did have usually came out of someone else’s pocket. Sam was a very slick poker player.”

  “Maybe his family had money, and he didn’t want the rest of you to know.”

  “Maybe, but he was never that good at keeping secrets. Besides, if he could afford all this, why join the Army?”

  “Beats me. I never claim to understand the workings of the male mind.”

  “I doubt it was patriotism. He spent most of his tour of duty working hard at avoiding work.”

  Madelyn pulled to a stop in front of the house, and before she had stowed her sunglasses in her purse, a man dressed in jeans and a cowboy hat appeared to open the car door. He led them up the steps and into the foyer. While they waited, she glanced into the huge living room to the left. The décor favored heavy, dark wood molding, oversized leather furniture, and the heads of dead animals. The extravagant manliness made her head hurt.

  “There you are. Welcome, welcome.” Sam Barnett strode into the hall and shook their hands in turn. He wore blue jeans, alligator boots, and a Western cut shirt. Every hair was perfectly in place, and he looked cool and composed even though it had to be ninety-five degrees in the non-existent shade outdoors.

  “Frank, take the luggage to the guest rooms, would you? Now, what can I get you all to drink? Carter, bourbon?”

  “No thanks. It’s a little early for me.”

  Sam turned to Madelyn. “Ms. Li? How about you?”

  She swallowed, and the sides of her throat stuck together. “I’d love some iced tea, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. Mr. Perryman?”

  “Iced tea would be fine for me too.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have Laura bring us a pitcher in the living room.”

  So now Laura Burns was a waitress as well as a secretary. Something was definitely off. She couldn’t have changed that much.

  Sam directed Carter and Madelyn to a massive, dark brown leather sofa then settled into a gently worn armchair. Herman flitted around the room, admiring the expensive Western memorabilia that included a pair of antique pearl-handled revolvers, a striking black and white Native American basket, and what appeared to be an original Frederick Remington sculpture of a cowboy on a rearing horse.

  “This is quite a spread you’ve got,” Carter said.

  Sam smiled broadly. “Nearly a thousand acres of some of the prettiest country you’ll ever see.”

  “How long have you owned it?”

  “Almost ten years. Life’s been pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  “Have you been in politics all this time?”

  “No, that’s a more recent endeavor. After the Army, I went into business for a few years with some contacts I made in Kuwait.”

  “Mmm.” Carter nodded but didn’t return Sam’s smile.

  “Ah, here’s Laura now.”

  Laura set a large silver tray on the padded ottoman that served as a coffee table and poured tea into the ice-filled glasses. Madelyn was struck again by how much she’d changed. She fit with the house like a model from an upscale catalogue—elegant, sleek, and wealthy in her sleeveless cream-colored silk sweater, slim brown slacks, and expensive Italian flats. No signs remained of the ambitious young woman from a blue collar family in Cleveland who had been determined to claw her way to the top ten years earlier.

  As Laura passed the glasses, Madelyn turned and noticed that Chick Avery had slipped into the room behind her at some point during Sam’s conversation with Carter.

 
; Herman turned to face him. “Mr. Avery, I’d like to go over the plans for the evening once more now that we’re here.”

  A fleeting frown crossed Chick’s sharp features but disappeared under a blanket of polite agreement. “Of course. Come to the kitchen. It’s command central with all the lists.”

  Herman picked up his glass. “That would be great.”

  “Laura?” Chick cocked his head toward her.

  She smiled graciously. “If you’ll excuse me...”

  Madelyn watched her glide from the room with growing irritation. She seemed more like the director of a beauty pageant than an FBI agent. What could have turned a tough, determined woman like Laura into a Stepford secretary?

  “I’ve left all the details to Chick and Laura,” Sam said. “I always do. They’re great with details.”

  “They’re not going to make me wear a tux, are they?” Carter cast a suspicious glance toward the door where the trio had disappeared.

  “Oh, no. It’s a Texas-style barbecue, nothing fancy.”

  Madelyn doubted any event held in this house could accurately be described as nothing fancy.

  Sam leaned forward with a conspiratorial expression. “Now that I have you two alone, Lucy, I want to know what’s going on.”

  Carter eased back, propped his right ankle on his left knee, and draped his arms across the back of the sofa. “I’m not sure what you mean. I was under the impression you invited us to a barbecue.”

  Sam dipped his chin and peered at Madelyn. “Ms. Li, why does Lucy here need a bodyguard?”

  She hesitated. Carter knew Sam Barnett–she didn’t. They would have to reveal some information because they were guests in the senator’s house, and she needed to be able to do her job. The question was, how much to reveal.

  Sam snorted with impatience. “Don’t bother to deny it. Laura told me. She’s good with information. That’s why she’s on my staff.”