The Full Story

“You’re trying to blackmail me,” he snapped.

“No. I’m only negotiating a deal.”

“I HAVE TO KNOW whether I can trust her,” Dan said into his cell phone.

As Lydia said “No problem,” he glanced at the library door.

He’d closed it tightly before making his call, because he already knew there was at least one thing about Mickey Westover that he couldn’t trust. She had no compunction when it came to eavesdropping.

However, he was speaking quietly and that was a solid-core door.

“So check out her reputation in general,” he continued. “And specifically contact some of the other celebrities she’s done these articles on. See if anything appeared in print that she assured them wouldn’t.”

“No problem,” Lydia said again, her tone amused this time—letting him know that she didn’t need him telling her how to do her job.

And she didn’t, of course. All of the research operatives at Risk Control International were good, but she was the best.

“I need to hear back soon,” he added, although he probably didn’t have to tell her that, either.

“You’ve got it, Dan. I’ll call and let you know whatever I can learn fast. Then, if it’s necessary, I’ll start digging more thoroughly.”

“Good. Thanks, Lydia.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Dan clicked off and started back to where he’d left Mickey in the kitchen.

He was feeling marginally better, but only marginally.

Oh, hell, who was he trying to kid? He was still fit to be tied.

As clichéd as that phrase might be, it was the best one he could think of to describe how he was feeling—although downright homicidal was certainly a strong contender.

He didn’t recall ever having seriously considered murdering someone before, not even any of the low-life he’d dealt with during his years as a cop. But right this minute he could cheerfully strangle Mickey Westover.

She was trying to blackmail him into agreeing to what she wanted—regardless of how she put it. And as much as he disliked the idea of agreeing to a damn thing…

Ken Heath had been right. The odds were low that whoever was stalking Billy had caught this morning’s Sherry Sherman Show.

However, if news about a hit man being after Billy went online it would immediately be picked up by every TV and radio station in North America.

And it was far too easy to picture Billy’s would-be killer driving through the mountains, almost here, when the car radio told him that he was heading straight into a trap—because Mickey had included that information in her story.

Yes, downright homicidal was definitely right up there with fit to be tied.

Eyeing Mickey’s slender throat, he imagined his hands wrapped around it.

All that did, though, was start him thinking that if her pale skin felt as smooth as it looked, then once he’d touched it, strangling her would be the last thing on his mind.

He told himself to lose that thought.

Mickey Westover might be a good-looking woman, and he’d admit there was something awfully sexy about her, but she was annoying as hell.

Of course, she was just trying to get ahead, which wasn’t something he’d fault her for under different circumstances.

And now that he’d had time to consider, he realized that she didn’t really represent a serious problem. Not short-term, at least.

At the moment, all he had to do was prevent her from calling her boss back. Or using her computer to e-mail him.

But sending her packing wasn’t the way to handle things. Even if he confiscated her laptop and cell phone before showing her the door, she’d find a pay phone.

So he’d have to negotiate, to use her term. He only intended to negotiate a little, though.

CHAPTER THREE

ONCE DAN GOT BACK to the kitchen, Mickey eyed him expectantly.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s the deal I’ll go for. If the killer shows up, you get your exclusive this afternoon. If he doesn’t, if I have to go to New York and find Billy, you don’t breathe a word about any of this until the situation is resolved. Then, you get your exclusive.”

She looked suspicious, so he added, “Either way, you win.”

“And what if you end up in New York and another journalist gets wind of what’s happening?” she said. “Where would my exclusive be then?”

“Don’t worry about that, because this will be over and done with today. Now, give me your laptop and purse.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your laptop and purse,” he repeated. “Just for a minute.”

She hesitated, then handed them over.

“Oh, and one other thing,” he said.

“What?”

“When you get down to writing your story, you can report the facts of what happens. And Billy’s a public figure so he’s fair game. But my name doesn’t show up in print.”

“Then how do I refer to you?”

“Mr. Brent’s bodyguard will do. And there can’t be any mention of the company I work for, either.”

“You mean you don’t work for Billy?”

“Only indirectly. At any rate, those are the other ground rules. And before we go any further, I want your word that you won’t break them.”

She nodded, although she clearly didn’t like having additional parameters. But since there was a lot about this he didn’t like, it only seemed fair.

“Oh, and I should tell you,” he continued, “that a lot of important people deal with my company. People who like the fact that it’s low profile.