Three days later, Connor wondered if he was going just the tiniest bit insane. He had the dog on a leash as he walked by the statue of Mary McLeod Bethune in Lincoln Park, praying the little thing didn’t shit all over the place. Oh, he was prepared for it because Lara had given him a biodegradable bag to scoop up Lincoln’s waste.
“You started him on the meat,” she’d said earlier that morning with a wrinkle of her nose. “You can handle the consequences.”
How the mighty had fallen.
Lincoln—the constipated dog—barked and strained against his leash.
“Lincoln, heel,” he said in a low growl.
The little thing sat back, its bug eyes wide. If only his mistress was so easily handled.
“Nice day for a walk. Like the pooch. She’s exactly what I would have gotten you,” a familiar voice said. “You know they say pet owners choose pets that are very similar to themselves.”
Roman Calder was right on time, but then he always was. Connor took in the sight of one of his oldest friends, dressed in workout pants and a Yale sweatshirt covering his chest with the hood pulled low in deference to his semi-celebrity status. It looked as if he was well into his daily five-mile run. Most of the time he went with Zack, but they couldn’t have this conversation surrounded by ten Secret Service agents.
“It’s a he and obviously he’s not mine.”
Roman’s lips curved up even as his feet moved, keeping his heart rate up. “I never thought I’d see you domesticated.”
Connor heard the laughter in Roman’s voice. His buddy would be on the phone with Gabe in a heartbeat. Zack would likely know Connor had become Lara’s errand boy before Roman even got back to the White House. Bastard gossiped more than any old lady. “Could we move on? I have to be back in ten minutes.”
Roman finally stopped his slow jog, looking out over the park. “Where is she? I’ve seen pictures, but I have to admit, I would love to see the woman who bosses your ass around.”
Oddly, he kind of wanted Roman to meet her. She was smart and funny and she kept him on his toes. Though if she met Roman, Connor’s cover would be blown, so that couldn’t happen. At least not until this whole thing got sorted out. “She’s meeting with her father and a friend in another part of the park. She’s got two guards I approved watching her so I figured I could break away to see you.”
“So everything’s been quiet since the initial attempt on her life?”
Connor nodded, his eyes never stopping their scan of their surroundings. “Yes, but we haven’t left the apartment to do more than grocery shop. If you can call it that.”
His fairy princess lived off berries and salad. He was fairly certain that any moment he was with Lara, birds would come to carry her biodegradable bags filled with rabbit food, and all the woodland creatures would keep the palace spick-and-span.
She was the Snow White of the tabloid world. She was idiotically naive at times, and then she would stun him with her honesty and her backbone.
He had whiplash from being around Lara Armstrong. And he definitely had a hard-on. He’d had it for freaking days.
“The police found the motorcycle the shooter used in his attack abandoned outside the city. It was stolen, naturally.”
“I want a full write-up on whoever owns it.” It would be simple enough to use his own ride and then claim it had been stolen. He wanted to know if there was any connection at all between the owner and Lara.
“I’ve got them working on it. I’ve explained that the White House wants updates because the victim was the daughter of a senator. They’re buying it for now. I’ll get the reports and send them to you. From what I understand, Everly’s worked up profiles of the people in Lara’s building and her friends. She’s got some interesting pals.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you know Kiki Ross is having an affair with a married congressman?”
Shit. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, I have the photos in both color and black and white. They should come in handy at election time.” Roman wore his shark smile.
“You can’t.”
“Of course I can. We’ve been wanting that district for years and we always fall just short. This coming year, I’ll release those photos shortly before the election. There’s a reason we call it an October surprise.”
He would handle that later. The elections were months off, but somehow he couldn’t see letting those photos get leaked. Lara would be deeply upset. She would do that thing where her eyes got wide and her bottom lip would tremble just the slightest bit before she nodded as though accepting the weight of the world on her shoulders.
How could he know so fucking much about the woman in so little time?
“What about the rest of them?”
“Tom Hannigan’s father was a federal judge. He stepped down three years ago. To the public it was nothing but an early retirement, but according to buried DOJ files, they were about to indict him on twelve counts of accepting bribes for judgments.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yes. The only reason they didn’t go through with it was the chaos it would have created. All of his cases would have been thrown out, including judgments against two of America’s biggest corporations. It was decided that putting Hannigan in jail wasn’t worth the risk of letting those FTC-violating bastards walk free.”
“Who knows about this?” Had Lara been picking and choosing her targets? He found that oddly disappointing.
“It’s buried. Unless she’s got an informant in the high ranks of the DOJ, there’s no way she knows about it. I can’t be certain even her ex-fiancé knows.”
Somehow that made Connor feel better. He’d kind of started looking at her as Super Fairy, protector of truth (there was none), justice (even less of that), and the American way (burying their heads in the sand and buying another Happy Meal.) It might be ridiculous, but he would be disappointed to discover her hypocrisy. “What else have you got?”
“It’s all on this thumb drive. I know how freaky you are about sending things over the Internet, and I think you have good reason this time.”
“Why?”
“The NSA is interested in one of Lara’s neighbors. A man named Fredrick Gallagher. They believe he’s hacked some important sites and might be involved in cyberterrorism. They don’t have the goods on him yet.”
“So?” If the NSA didn’t have the balls to question him, Connor’s team could do it. “A little friendly interrogation on foreign soil never hurt anyone.”
Roman sighed. “We’re not renditioning American citizens, Connor. He’s a veteran with a tragic past. I pulled his records. It’s not pretty. If it got out that we’re investigating him at all, it could blow up in our faces, so keep it quiet. But if you get a chance to get into his place and collect intel, I know some people who would owe you a favor. Now, what have you found out?”
This was the shitty part. “She’s clean. Everything she’s said to me is truthful.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding me.”
Connor shrugged. A couple of nights on her couch had allowed him to comb through her system, downloading it quickly and then uploading it to his own computer so he could browse through at his convenience. Just yesterday afternoon they’d sat in her office together. She’d been at her desk working on some story about a company fudging their reports to the EPA. She hadn’t had a clue that the whole while she was investigating her scoop, he’d been investigating her.
“She keeps meticulous records, but her e-mail contained nothing that might lead us to Deep Throat. It’s either informants or friends or spam. I’m reading each and every one in case there’s some code, but it’s going to take me a few days. I’ve blocked off the time period from Mad’s death to today. It’s roughly two thousand e-mails to go through.”
“Send a third to Everly and another to Dax. If this didn’t involve Zack, I would hire an investigative team. We’re wasting your talents having you read e-mails.”