Collateral Damage (Stone Barrington 25)

“Yes. She and I had a rather scary conversation.”

“About what?”

They moved into the bedroom, but Holly still caught the audio.

“About something she doesn’t want me to talk about.”

“We’re back to that, are we? You know something I don’t know. All right, if you don’t want to tell me, don’t, but please stop bringing it up.”

“I didn’t bring it up, you did,” she said, unzipping her dress and stepping out of it.

“No, you … Oh, never mind.”

They got undressed in silence and got into bed. There was enough light in the room for the high-definition cameras to register their images. Jim made a move for a breast, kissing her on a nipple. Kelli responded, and soon they were at it.

Holly used the interval to get undressed herself, then she went back to the computer. The two were lying in bed, breathing hard, spent.

“All right, I’ll tell you,” Kelli said. She rolled over and put her lips close to his ear.

This Holly couldn’t hear.

“You’re shitting me,” Jim said.

“I shit you not.”

“Christ, no wonder the CIA doesn’t want that out. Do you think the cameras we had taken out were put there by the Agency?”

“I did at first, but now I think it might be somebody at a rival publication, a tabloid called The Instigator. They’ve done this before—tapped phones, et cetera.”

“Why would they try to listen in on us?”

“Because they’re out to subvert Vanity Fair, and they desperately want to know what the magazine is going to publish. They have a shorter lead time, and if they find out what other writers and I are writing for VF, they can get something in their rag first.”

“Do you think they tried to run you down, too?”

“No, I’m beginning to think that was just an accident.”

“You mean, you’re admitting I’m right?” he asked, laughing.

“Don’t let it go to your head, buster,” Kelli said.

They got quiet, and Holly switched off her computer and went into the bedroom, naked as usual.

“What were you doing in there for so long?” Stone asked.

“Girl stuff,” Holly replied, climbing into bed. “You want to talk, or you want to fuck?”

Stone switched off the light.

—

Later, when they were lying in each other’s arms, half asleep, Stone said, “You and Kelli Keane were kind of into it tonight. What was that about?”

“Like any good journalist, she was pumping me for information about the explosion at our station.”

“Did you tell her anything?”

“Actually, I did—just enough to get her calling the police commissioner and the FBI. Maybe that will get their asses in gear.”