A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(45)

“I’m not f*cking around, Drew. Your presence compromises her. Those guys are after you as much as they are after her. You’re literally luring them to her. What are you thinking?” You would think his anger would upset me, but just the opposite happens. I’m pleased. When he’s this protective of Lindsay, I know he’s vigilant. I know that anyone who tries to hurt her will have to go through Paulson, too.

“They texted me today.”

He closes his eyes, then runs a hand over the back of his neck, tension bleeding off him. “Of course they did. What’d they say?”

“‘Don’t play if you can’t win’,” I recite, the words like burrs on my tongue.

“Assholes. That’s just a taunt.”

“And a promise.”

“A promise of what?”

“That they’ll follow through. I have to talk to Lindsay. I think I know what’s about to happen next and I need to warn her.”

“Care to share with her head of security? Not that you’re exactly forthcoming with important information.” He is pissed. The double meaning is clear.

He knows. He knows about that video.

I don’t care, actually.

Part of the truth is all he needs.

I ignore the barb. Can’t deal with it. “They’re going to invent some charitable cause for her. She’ll be sent to work with the homeless in Haiti, or with a literacy program in Appalachia, or to restore hurricane damage in Guatemala. Whatever the story, it’ll be designed to get her out of the limelight and for all the attention to die down.” I say this with impatience, and Mark crosses his arms over his chest like he has all the time in the world.

He knows I’m in a rush.

“You’re the focus of attention on the news so far, Drew. Not her. And her attackers are tormenting you now, too. Exposing you.”

Ignore ignore ignore.

“But it taints Harry by default.” I barrel on. “The media’s being nice to her today, but give it two or three more days and the worm will turn. And getting her out of sight means she’ll have less security. Any company other than mine that handles her security can be compromised. Probably already has.”

“You think Blaine, John and Stellan have that much power?”

“Not them, no. But the puppetmaster behind them? Yes. We need to figure out who’s controlling them. That should be the number one mission, aside from protecting Lindsay. Harry’s too wrapped up in his campaign and getting bad advice to realize it.”

Mark looks at the house, the moonlight bouncing off the gentle waves, illuminating the windows facing the ocean. He’s a man with two opposing duties. Loyalty to me. A promise to Harry.

Which one does he break?

Mark’s phone goes off. He looks at a text.

“Lindsay’s insisting on being driven to her friend Jane’s house in two hours.” His fingers fly on the glass screen, then he taps with finality and catches my eye. “Don’t even think about following her.”

Two hours. I have two hours, then.

“You’re not my commanding officer, Paulson.”

“And I’m not your employee anymore, Foster.”

“We’re at a standoff, then. And you know how standoffs work. Motivation always wins.”

“Motivation often kills, too.”

“I need to talk to her, Mark. She’s at risk. ” Appealing to reason generally works with him.

He’s on his phone again, his face screwed up into an intense grimace. “You can’t get caught. Lindsay isn’t just a senator’s daughter now. She’s about to be under Secret Service protection as a presidential candidate’s family member. You know the difference.”

“Which is why I have to talk to her now.”

Urgency and patience don’t go together well, but somehow I manage to harness both in this conversation.

“You know where Jane lives?”

“Apartment downtown, on the water. Yeah.”

“No,” he corrects me. “That’s her mom’s place. Jane’s in some middle-rent apartment complex by the I-5.” He gives me an address. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“You also didn’t give me two hours.”

“Didn’t do that, either.” He looks pointedly near a cluster of bushes at the edge of shore. I see a suspicious blonde ponytail poke up among the greenery.

“This conversation never happened.” I mouth the words Thank you.

“You never happened.”

And with that, one of my best friends walks away, leaving me by the ocean. I have a new mission.

I don’t exist.

“Drew?”

Maybe I do.

Her voice is tentative, so hesitant it’s like she’s peeling my skin off, one strip at a time.

“Drew. I saw the video. Oh, God, Drew.”





Chapter 17





Ever walk on stilts? That’s how it feels as I make my way across the sand toward the cluster of shoreline brush that dots the beach. The carefully landscaped grounds of The Grove have to give way to untamed nature at some point.

That line is here.

Right between our bodies.

There’s no moon tonight, just a cloudy grey sky that doesn’t leave witnesses. No one can see us unless they’re trying. I get the feeling Mark’s given the rest of the team explicit orders to give us space. I also know my time is limited.