Something About You
Page 66
Jack could only imagine how much pain that must’ve caused her. “Fuck, Cameron . . . I’m sorry.” He did the math in his head and quickly put things together. “Four years ago. That’s when you joined the U.S. attorney’s office.”
“I wish I could tell you that the first thing I did as a prosecutor was put away the scumbag who killed my dad. Not that I ever would’ve been allowed to try that case.”
“Did they catch the guy?”
She nodded. “He pled guilty to manslaughter in state court. It was quick, uneventful. Very . . . unsatisfying.”
“But now you put other scumbags away for a living.”
“That part is more satisfying.”
They drove in silence for a moment. “You amaze me, Cameron.”
That got a slight smile out of her. “High praise, coming from someone who knows how to kill people with paper clips and everything.”
Jack looked over in surprise. “You know about the paper clips?” He stroked his chin. “Hmm. Now that was good. Even for me.”
Cameron stared at him, stupefied.
He laughed. “I’m just kidding.” Mostly. Staples maybe, but never paper clips. “Speaking of your job—and mine—there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, something that came up in the meeting in Davis’s office. You mentioned that Silas knows about your connection to the Robards case.”
“Davis seemed interested in that, too.”
“I keep thinking about how Silas told you to back off the Martino case three years ago. It was one thing when I thought you, the prosecutor who had reviewed all the investigation files, made the decision that there wasn’t enough evidence to try the case. But now that I know Silas pressured you into not filing charges, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t trust him.”
Cameron thought about this. Jack could see she was running through the possibilities in her head.
“We need to be very careful here,” she said. “Silas is the U.S. attorney. We can’t start making accusations against him merely because of bad feelings. You know better than anyone how vindictive he can be.”
“It’s just something I want you to think about. You need to be careful around Silas. And the fact that I’ll be going to work with you on Monday is perfect—it’ll give me a chance to keep an eye on the son of a bitch. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way, I might have to try out that paper clip idea of yours.”
Cameron turned her head in his direction. “That was very ominous of you.”
“Now that I know he’s the one who screwed me over three years ago, my feelings toward him, to use your words, are a lot less pleasant.”
“I hope you can control yourself around him, for both our sakes.”
Jack took his eyes off the road and looked her over. “In all my years with the army and the FBI, there’s only been one person I’ve ever had any problems controlling myself around.”
She smiled at that, but said nothing. She reclined in the seat, crossing one naughty-booted leg over the other, in his direction. Jack fought hard against the images of her straddling him that assaulted his mind.
“You do realize you’re driving on the shoulder, don’t you?”
“Thanks for pointing that out, Cameron.”
Twenty-three
PER JACK’S ORDERS, they entered the Grand Traverse Resort through a back entrance and were immediately escorted to the manager’s office. Cameron had never stayed at the resort before but quickly saw why Amy had been so impressed by it: with luxurious décor, over six hundred rooms, gorgeous beach and fairway views, and a full-service spa, the property was indeed grand in every sense of the word. Even Jack, who’d said he would move her to a different hotel if he wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with the security aspects of the resort, seemed to find it acceptable.
“It’ll do,” he said in response to her silent question as they walked through the white marble and cherrywood hallway.
Jack had spoken to the manager on the phone and had explained the situation in general terms, revealing no details. In the office, he requested a map of the hotel grounds, which he kept, and emphasized one basic point: no one outside the three of them was to know the location of Cameron’s room. He asked for a private conference room where he could meet with the hotel’s head of security, one that he and the two agents coming in from Detroit would also use as a working space throughout the weekend.
Then he asked the manager whether the wedding guests had been assigned a particular block of rooms.
“Yes, the bride reserved a block in the hotel itself,” the manager said. “The wedding guests will all be staying here.”
“Perfect. Delete Cameron’s reservation, and book us a new room under the name David Warner. Put us in the Tower,” Jack said, referring to the seventeen-story building located adjacent to the hotel.
“David Warner?” Cameron asked after the manager left to get their room keys.
“An old alias of mine,” Jack said.
“Ooh . . . an alias. Who does that make me?”
“For this weekend, I suppose it makes you Mrs. David Warner.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure I’m the type to take my husband’s name. I’m on the fence about it.”
“For the next two days, you can be the type.”
“Boy, Mr. David Warner sure seems a little bossy.”
“I wish I could tell you that the first thing I did as a prosecutor was put away the scumbag who killed my dad. Not that I ever would’ve been allowed to try that case.”
“Did they catch the guy?”
She nodded. “He pled guilty to manslaughter in state court. It was quick, uneventful. Very . . . unsatisfying.”
“But now you put other scumbags away for a living.”
“That part is more satisfying.”
They drove in silence for a moment. “You amaze me, Cameron.”
That got a slight smile out of her. “High praise, coming from someone who knows how to kill people with paper clips and everything.”
Jack looked over in surprise. “You know about the paper clips?” He stroked his chin. “Hmm. Now that was good. Even for me.”
Cameron stared at him, stupefied.
He laughed. “I’m just kidding.” Mostly. Staples maybe, but never paper clips. “Speaking of your job—and mine—there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, something that came up in the meeting in Davis’s office. You mentioned that Silas knows about your connection to the Robards case.”
“Davis seemed interested in that, too.”
“I keep thinking about how Silas told you to back off the Martino case three years ago. It was one thing when I thought you, the prosecutor who had reviewed all the investigation files, made the decision that there wasn’t enough evidence to try the case. But now that I know Silas pressured you into not filing charges, the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t trust him.”
Cameron thought about this. Jack could see she was running through the possibilities in her head.
“We need to be very careful here,” she said. “Silas is the U.S. attorney. We can’t start making accusations against him merely because of bad feelings. You know better than anyone how vindictive he can be.”
“It’s just something I want you to think about. You need to be careful around Silas. And the fact that I’ll be going to work with you on Monday is perfect—it’ll give me a chance to keep an eye on the son of a bitch. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way, I might have to try out that paper clip idea of yours.”
Cameron turned her head in his direction. “That was very ominous of you.”
“Now that I know he’s the one who screwed me over three years ago, my feelings toward him, to use your words, are a lot less pleasant.”
“I hope you can control yourself around him, for both our sakes.”
Jack took his eyes off the road and looked her over. “In all my years with the army and the FBI, there’s only been one person I’ve ever had any problems controlling myself around.”
She smiled at that, but said nothing. She reclined in the seat, crossing one naughty-booted leg over the other, in his direction. Jack fought hard against the images of her straddling him that assaulted his mind.
“You do realize you’re driving on the shoulder, don’t you?”
“Thanks for pointing that out, Cameron.”
Twenty-three
PER JACK’S ORDERS, they entered the Grand Traverse Resort through a back entrance and were immediately escorted to the manager’s office. Cameron had never stayed at the resort before but quickly saw why Amy had been so impressed by it: with luxurious décor, over six hundred rooms, gorgeous beach and fairway views, and a full-service spa, the property was indeed grand in every sense of the word. Even Jack, who’d said he would move her to a different hotel if he wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with the security aspects of the resort, seemed to find it acceptable.
“It’ll do,” he said in response to her silent question as they walked through the white marble and cherrywood hallway.
Jack had spoken to the manager on the phone and had explained the situation in general terms, revealing no details. In the office, he requested a map of the hotel grounds, which he kept, and emphasized one basic point: no one outside the three of them was to know the location of Cameron’s room. He asked for a private conference room where he could meet with the hotel’s head of security, one that he and the two agents coming in from Detroit would also use as a working space throughout the weekend.
Then he asked the manager whether the wedding guests had been assigned a particular block of rooms.
“Yes, the bride reserved a block in the hotel itself,” the manager said. “The wedding guests will all be staying here.”
“Perfect. Delete Cameron’s reservation, and book us a new room under the name David Warner. Put us in the Tower,” Jack said, referring to the seventeen-story building located adjacent to the hotel.
“David Warner?” Cameron asked after the manager left to get their room keys.
“An old alias of mine,” Jack said.
“Ooh . . . an alias. Who does that make me?”
“For this weekend, I suppose it makes you Mrs. David Warner.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure I’m the type to take my husband’s name. I’m on the fence about it.”
“For the next two days, you can be the type.”
“Boy, Mr. David Warner sure seems a little bossy.”
