Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Read online

  Syed reached for Madelyn’s hand. A brilliant white smile flashed beneath his mustache. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  Carter responded to his shift in tone. “None of that, now. Remember, I know you too well. Allow me to present Madelyn Li, my personal assistant. She’s taking care of all the details for the book tour. Madelyn, this is Syed al-Hawari, a shady character from my past.”

  Syed tipped his head in a quick bow. “So true, that and so much more. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Li.” He shook Madelyn’s hand before returning his attention to Carter. “Now you must tell me about this book of yours. There has been great interest about it in our little community, a great deal of buzz, as they say.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I hope they all go out and buy a copy, or better yet, two copies. I don’t get a paycheck from Uncle Sam anymore, you know.”

  Syed nodded. “That is true, and of course we all wish you prosperity and long life.”

  “Prosperity and long life sound good to me.”

  “Everyone is wondering, as am I, whether you draw your characters from real life.”

  “They’re usually a composite of people I’ve known and my imagination.”

  “Am I in your book, my friend?”

  Carter’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been warned everyone I know would ask that question. I’ll tell you what I plan to tell everyone else—you’ll have to buy a copy and find out.”

  “You and I have had many adventures over the years, adventures that are best left confined to our memories.”

  “And sometimes not even there.”

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter Four

  During her years with the FBI, Madelyn had worked a string of bank robberies, a kidnapping, and an elaborate computer fraud scheme. She had interviewed organized crime informants and frightened witnesses. She had even sat across the table from a seventeen-year-old boy who had shot six students and a teacher at his high school. Patrick Lynch had told her she had a knack for seeing the truth.

  But working for a private client was different. She couldn’t insert herself. She couldn’t ask questions. She had to remain in the background, watch every move, and do her best to put the pieces together while keeping Carter out of trouble in spite of himself.

  Syed seemed to have reached a decision. “You must have dinner with me at the embassy while you are in town.” He clapped a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “I’m sure you would enjoy some authentic Egyptian food again, and the chef is superb. When are you available?”

  This was not part of the plan. Madelyn shot a glance at Carter. She might not be able to prevent him from accepting the invitation, but she had to keep him from going alone. Before he could answer, she leaned in and brought her heel down on the toe of his shiny black shoe.

  He sucked in a quick breath but kept his expression even and squeezed her elbow. “I couldn’t accept without Ms. Li. She’s my shadow for the duration of the tour. I can’t take a step without her.”

  Syed inclined his head. “But of course the invitation includes Ms. Li.”

  “Good. Madelyn, when are we free?”

  She didn’t like anything about this. Her mind raced over their schedule for the next four days. They would be able to meet Syed for dinner but not inside the Egyptian Embassy. It was legally foreign soil, and she wouldn’t be allowed to carry a weapon. Not to mention the fact that she had no reason to trust Syed-al-Hawari’s intentions.

  “How about Sunday?” Carter suggested. “I know we don’t have anything scheduled for Sunday evening.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think—”

  “Excellent,” Syed interrupted. “I will send an embassy car for you at seven. I shall see you then. We have much to discuss.” He bowed his head, turned, and disappeared into the throng.

  “Carter,” Madelyn hissed, “we can’t go to the embassy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t take a gun in there.”

  “You won’t need one. The Egyptian Embassy is like a fortress. No one could get to us in there.”

  “Not from the outside, perhaps.”

  He shook his head. “If Syed wanted to harm me, he’s had plenty of opportunities over the years.”

  “People and situations can change.”

  “We are not going to disappear inside the Egyptian Embassy.”

  “For a spy, you’re awfully blasé about security.”

  He dismissed her concerns with a maddening shrug. “I’m used to risk. After a few years it becomes second nature to weigh and evaluate situations like this. Sunday night we’ll be alert and observant, and everything will be fine.”

  She forced herself to rein in her frustration. His attitude was nothing new. Her clients usually fell into one of two groups. Either they believed they were invincible, or they saw danger around every corner. Few chose the middle ground of prudent caution. There was one point she had to insist on, however. “If we go, I’m driving. We are not going in one of their cars.”

  Carter retained his grip on her arm, but a man elbowing his way toward them through the crowd caught his attention. “We can discuss this later. Here comes someone else I want you to meet.”

  The man was middle-aged, tall, and sturdy, with a high forehead, thinning blond hair, and a ruddy complexion. Carter reached for his hand. “Ski, how the hell are you?”

  The man clasped Carter’s hand. “Just trying to fill my days, now that I don’t have to look after you.”

  Carter turned to Madelyn. “Madelyn, I’d like you to meet Al Witkowski, my former...What would you call yourself anyway?”

  “How about babysitter?”

  “I think the common term is handler.”

  “Yeah, but mine is more descriptive.”

  “That depends on your point of view. At any rate, I’d like to introduce Madelyn Li, my personal assistant for this book tour. My publisher hired her to handle the arrangements.”

  “Sounds like you still need a babysitter.” Ski reached for her hand. “I wish you luck, Ms. Li. If you can keep this guy on target and on schedule, you’re a better man than I am, so to speak.”

  Carter opened his mouth, but Ski interrupted. “Never was much of a one for rules.” He flashed her a conspiratorial wink. “Likes to fly by the seat of his pants.”

  Madelyn liked this man. “I’ve noticed.”

  Carter scowled. “I’m standing right here in case you missed it.”

  “Sorry,” they responded in unison, then laughed.

  “Everyone in Special Activities sends their regards,” Ski said.

  “I bet they do.”

  “No, really. And I’m supposed to give you a message. They all hope you have a nice, quiet, uneventful retirement, especially the Director.”

  The crease between Carter’s brows reappeared. “I don’t know what everyone’s so worried about. I’m out of the business for good. You know that better than anyone. This book is fiction, as in made up.”

  Ski shrugged. “I’m just saying, we were all happier when you were writing Westerns. The Director loved your Westerns. He’d like you to keep writing them.”

  “I’m glad he’s such a fan,” Carter replied in a dry tone, “but I got bored with Westerns. I needed to branch out. You can tell the Director to stop worrying. He’s not in the book, and neither are you or any other members of the unit—at least not in a way anyone would recognize.”

  “I’m not sure that will put his mind at ease.”

  Carter leaned closer to Ski and lowered his voice. “You remind the Director that whatever else he thinks of me, I have never done anything to put a fellow operative in jeopardy, and I never will. If he’s still concerned, he can read the book for himself. In fact, he can come to my signing tomorrow afternoon. I’ll save him a copy.”

  “I’ll let him know. He just might.” Ski rubbed his hands together and smiled. “Now that we’ve got business out of the way, how about we hit the buffet? I’m starving.”


  The intensity of Carter’s expression eased. “You’re always starving. I could eat a plate of those shrimp myself.” He turned to Madelyn. “We never had lunch, did we?”

  Lunch. With all the events of the day, it had completely slipped her mind. “Now that you mention it, no we didn’t.” She scanned the crowd. “But doesn’t Herman want you to mingle and talk up the book?”

  Carter waved his hand. “Herman’s over there tied up with that woman who looks like she was dipped in diamonds.”

  Madelyn followed his gesture. Poor little Herman did look as though he was about to be devoured by a stout matron whose hands, throat, and ear lobes glittered vigorously as she spoke.

  “Besides,” Carter continued, “look at all the people between here and the buffet. We can talk on our way to the food.” He signaled a waiter, took two glasses of champagne from the tray, and handed one to Madelyn while Ski grabbed one for himself. With his free hand, Carter steered her through the crowd to the other half of the room.

  As he’d predicted, they stopped to talk to a number of people on the way to the buffet. In forty-five minutes they traveled barely forty feet. By the time they reached their target, Madelyn’s feet hurt, and she worried her face had frozen in a painful parody of an interested smile. Carter, however, seemed to be in his element. Maybe it was because he knew many of the guests, but he appeared relaxed and overflowing with charm. If he really hated big parties as much as he claimed, he was putting on an award-winning performance.

  Madelyn had just popped a puff pastry canapé stuffed with crab into her mouth when a loud voice drawled out above the din. “Lucy!”

  She whipped around to see a big, vibrant man approaching through the sea of people. He was accompanied by a woman and two men who parted the crowd before him like the cowcatcher on an antique locomotive. He was tall and well-built with a swoop of honey-colored hair any television preacher would covet. Sparkling white teeth flashed in his deeply tanned face.

  “Lucy, how the hell are you? Long time, no see.” He reached for Carter and pumped his hand.

  “Lucy?” Madelyn whispered.

  “Long story,” Carter murmured out of the side of his mouth before raising his voice to respond. “Sam, it’s good to see you.”

  She wondered about Carter’s cool expression. His voice also lacked the warmth and enthusiasm he’d shown all evening. Maybe he was getting tired. After all, he had been working the crowd for over two hours.

  If the big man found Carter’s response lacking, he showed no sign. “How long has it been anyway?” he boomed. “Fifteen years? You look great!”

  “Thanks. You’re looking good too.”

  “Can’t complain. Life’s been treating me well.”

  “I understand it’s Senator Barnett now.”

  Sam nodded. “I’m almost halfway through my second term. I bet you wouldn’t have predicted that fifteen years ago.”

  “No, I have to admit I never saw it coming.”

  “Politics seemed like the way to go after I got out of the Army.”

  Sam turned to the men and woman waiting at his side. “Some of my staff wanted to meet you, so I brought them along.”

  He gestured to the sophisticated brunette in the slinky black cocktail dress. “This is my secretary, Laura Burns.”

  Laura Burns. Laura Burns?

  She looked familiar, but...could it be? Yes, it had to be the same Laura Burns.

  Her appearance had changed so much Madelyn almost didn’t recognize her. Laura had been in her class at the FBI Academy, but she’d lost at least twenty-five pounds in the intervening years. At Quantico she’d been solid rather than willowy and one hundred percent focused on her career with the Bureau.

  They’d never been friends because Madelyn had found Laura rigid and intimidating, but she would admit to a grudging admiration for the other woman’s analytical mind, physical skills, and single-minded pursuit of her goal. She was the last person Madelyn would have picked to be a secretary to anyone, even a U.S. senator.

  Laura smiled and shook Carter’s hand, acknowledging Madelyn with a direct look and brief nod but no comment.

  “And this is Kip McIlhenny, one of my speechwriters and a big fan of yours,” Sam continued.

  The twenty-something young man in tortoise-rimmed glasses and a shiny, ill-fitting tuxedo stepped forward. “I especially liked Showdown at Red Rock.”

  Carter shook his hand. “Praise from a fellow writer is always welcome.” Kip’s boyish cheeks reddened, and he dipped his chin in acknowledgement.

  “And you remember Chick Avery. Chick is my Chief of Staff now. He’s the one who persuaded me to go into politics in the first place.”

  Carter looked the man in the eye. “Avery.” He nodded without smiling.

  “Devlin.” The man nodded back.

  Whew! No love lost there. She sympathized. Everything about Chick Avery made her uncomfortable. He was short, thin, and sharp. His narrow, hard-edged features and darting black eyes reminded her of a hungry bird. Perhaps that was how he got his nickname.

  Sam Barnett stepped closer. “And who’s this pretty little thing? Did you meet her on the job? Last I heard you were still in Africa.”

  Madelyn stiffened. She’d spent her first several years in the FBI working to break into the Boys’ Club and away from being considered a pretty little thing. She opened her mouth to speak then snapped it shut. Laura had recognized her but hadn’t said anything. For now it would be best to maintain her cover.

  A muscle beside Carter’s eye twitched. “While she is certainly attractive, she is not a ‘little thing’. This is my personal assistant, Madelyn Li. Madelyn, meet Sam Barnett, an old Army buddy and now the junior Senator from the great state of Texas.”

  She offered her hand. “Senator Barnett.”

  Sam took it and bowed slightly before bringing it to his lips. She couldn’t control her instinctive jerk when his moist lips touched her skin. No one had ever kissed her hand before, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did Southern men still do that as a sign of gallantry, or was he mocking her?

  “Pardon my lapse in manners, Ms. Li.”

  She withdrew her hand the second he released it.

  Carter tucked the offended hand into his elbow. “At this rate, you won’t convince her you ever had any.”

  “You never told me you were in the Army,” Madelyn said in an attempt to direct the conversation away from herself.

  Sam answered before Carter could speak. “Lucy, Chick, and I served together in Kuwait. Lucy did all the tricky stuff with Army Intelligence, while Chick and I mostly observed from the comfort of the supply depot.”

  “Senator, I have to ask. Why do you keep referring to Mr. Devlin as Lucy?”

  Carter grimaced, and Sam laughed. “It’s a nickname. Most of the guys had one. Lucy is short for Lucifer. You know...Devlin—Devil—Lucifer. We called him Lucky Lucy because he came back from every mission without a scratch.”

  A light went off in her brain, and she turned to Carter. “Is that why you wrote your Westerns under the name Lucky Carter?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I couldn’t use my own name. I was undercover.”

  “Speaking of books,” Sam said, “I guess that’s why we’re here. You’ve written some kind of spy thriller?”

  “Indeed he has, Senator.” Herman’s beaming face appeared between Carter and Sam, the top of his head barely reaching their shoulders. “It’s an action-packed roller coaster ride from the bazaars of North Africa to the treacherous back alleys of war-torn Mogadishu—a tale of intrigue, betrayal and courage.”

  “For crying out loud, Herman,” Carter protested.

  The publicist bristled. “Well, it is. You’ll love it, Senator. I’ll have a copy sent over to your office tomorrow.”

  “He can afford to buy his own copy.”

  “Will you please leave the publicity to me? I’m a professional, and I know what I’m doing.”

  Sam grinned. �
��Lucy, who is this fellow?”

  “This is Herman Perryman, publicist for Normandy Press. It’s his responsibility to make sure everyone in America buys at least one copy of my book. He’s the one who arranged this tour.”

  “I didn’t realize you were on a tour. Where all are you going?”

  Herman answered for him. “We’re in Washington through Tuesday then on to Dallas and San Francisco before ending in Chicago.”

  “Dallas! You’ll be right in my backyard.”

  Chick Avery tapped Sam on the shoulder and murmured something in his ear.

  “Great idea!” Sam turned to Herman. “We’ll have a big, Texas-style party for you at Belle Rive—that’s my ranch. It’s right outside town.”

  Herman leaned forward, and Madelyn could almost see the cogs turning. She had to hand it to him; he never took his eyes off the goal of increased sales.

  “How generous of you, Senator.”

  “Chick and Laura can help with the guest list and all the arrangements. If there’s one thing my staff knows how to do, it’s throw a great party. You leave everything to them.”

  Herman’s head bobbed. “We can’t thank you enough, sir.”

  “Happy to help.” Sam shook hands with Herman and Madelyn. “See you next week, Lucy.” Then he turned and strode off with his staff trailing behind.

  “I knew it,” Herman crowed. “If we can make the most of your Washington connections, this book will take off. Now if the President will read the copy I sent to the White House...”

  “You didn’t.” Carter looked aghast.

  “It worked for Clancy.”

  Carter rubbed his hand over his face. “Heaven help us.” He glanced at his watch then scanned the room. Only two or three small clusters of guests remained, and a couple of busboys were clearing the buffet table of the decimated trays of hors d’oeuvres. “I’m beat. I just want to get out of this tux and put my feet up.”

  Madelyn shifted her weight from one foot to the other and wiggled her toes inside her shoes. After standing for hours, his suggestion sounded like heaven. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

  “I’m meeting someone in the bar.” Herman checked the small notebook he kept in his breast pocket. “I’ll meet you both tomorrow for lunch in the hotel dining room, and we can go over the details for the book signing. We need to be at the bookstore by two o’clock to set up.”