more afraid than she already was.
And, despite her words, Noelle was afraid of him. Thomas knew a whole lot about fear, and he was certain of the emotion he saw in her eyes.
“The senator will see you now,” Paula Quill said as she pointed toward the closed door on the right. The woman’s blond hair was pulled back in a perfect twist, and her face was schooled to show not even a hint of curiosity about their visit. As the senator’s assistant, Thomas figured the woman was used to keeping that mask of hers in place.
They were in the senator’s mansion, a too-big, mausoleum-type place Thomas didn’t like. But they’d needed to track the man back to his lair, even if that lair was in one of the most isolated spots in Alaska.
“He’s waiting in his study,” Paula added. Paula was pretty, a woman in her early twenties, and based on what Thomas knew about the senator, Paula was exactly the guy’s type. The senator was single, and from all accounts, quite a ladies’ man.
The EOD also suspected the man was a killer.
Noelle breezed past the other woman and headed into the senator’s study.
Noelle and Paula...they were night and day. Paula was icy reserve, cold perfection.
But Noelle...with her dark, red hair and her striking face...she was heat. Fire.
Passion.
The senator turned at Noelle’s approach, a fake smile on his face. Senator Lawrence Duncan was forty-two, rich and currently the chief suspect in the recent bombing of the EOD office in Washington, D.C.
Someone with a whole lot of power had hired an assassin—a man known as the Jack of Hearts—to take out EOD Director Bruce Mercer and to destroy the EOD in the process.
Right now, all of their intel was pointing to Senator Duncan as being that person in question.
“Senator Duncan.” Noelle’s voice was smooth, giving no hint at all to her southern roots. “Thank you for seeing us today.” She offered the senator her hand.
And he held it far too long. “How could I refuse?” Duncan murmured. “Though I’ll confess, I don’t quite know why the FBI wants to see me.”
That was their cover. They were acting as FBI agents because even U.S. senators didn’t have clearance to know about EOD missions.
But if this guy is the one we’re after, he already knows far too much about the EOD.
“We have some questions to ask you,” Noelle murmured. “About a killer who was recently hunting in D.C.”
Paula pulled the door shut, sealing them inside the room with the senator as she left.
The senator’s gaze swept over Noelle. He was still holding her hand and looking far too appreciative as his gaze dipped over her.
Noelle was a fine-looking woman, no doubt about it. Tall and curved, Thomas had seen plenty of men pass admiring stares her way. And every time those guys gazed at her with desire flaring in their eyes, Thomas wanted to drive his fist into their faces.
He cleared his throat. “I’m Agent Thomas Anthony,” Thomas said. A full, fake dossier had been created with his FBI credentials, just in case the senator wanted to dig. “And we certainly appreciate your cooperation.” Bull. Thomas didn’t appreciate anything about the jerk, and if the guy didn’t let Noelle’s hand go in the next five seconds—
Noelle pulled away from the senator. “Are you familiar with the killer known as the Jack of Hearts?”
Duncan blinked. “Ah...I read about him in the paper. Wasn’t he the serial killer who left playing cards at the scenes of his kills?”
Not exactly. Jack had been a murderer all right, but he’d been an assassin, not a serial killer. His kills hadn’t been for pleasure. They’d been for pure profit.
“That’s him,” Noelle inclined her head toward the senator. Thomas noticed her gaze swept around the study.
Thomas followed her stare. Duncan was a hunter. The trophies from his kills filled the walls of the room. And so did pictures. Pictures of cabins. Of boats. Of smiling women who stood at his side.
“Ah, well, I’ve certainly never met the man.” Duncan took a seat behind his desk. He motioned toward the couch on the right. “So I don’t see how I can—”
“When the authorities caught up with him,” Noelle interrupted smoothly. “He was planning to escape on your boat, the Dreamer. It was docked in D.C., and Jack had intended to slip away on that vessel.”
The senator’s eyes flared with surprise. “I hadn’t realized that. I heard he was at the dock, but not that he was planning to use my boat.”
Thomas thought the senator’s response seemed a little too perfect. Almost rehearsed.
“Do you have any idea why he might have selected your boat?” Noelle didn’t sit on the couch. Neither did Thomas. They both kept standing. Noelle pulled a photograph from the manila file she carried, and she pushed it across the desk toward the senator. “Take a look at Jack, and tell me...have you seen him before?”
The senator’s gaze darted down to the photo, then right back to Noelle. “I see so many people on the campaign trail. Our paths could’ve crossed, and I wouldn’t know it.”
“Why did he choose your boat?” Thomas demanded because the senator had conveniently not answered that particular question.
Duncan’s gaze—a dark brown—darted toward him. “Agent...Anthony, was it? I have no idea why he chose my boat. Perhaps it was just convenient for him. The right escape boat, at the right place.”
Thomas wasn’t buying that. “Before he died, the killer implied he knew you. That you’d hired him to do work for you in the past.”
The senator’s jaw hardened. “I have dozens of people working for me at any given time. You can check with Paula to see if this—this man was part of our extended staff, but I’ve certainly had no personal experience with him.”
“I’m not talking about hiring him to work as part of your campaign team.” Thomas knew his voice had roughened. He also knew Noelle was carefully studying the senator’s reaction to their questions. “I’m asking if you hired him to kill for you.”
The senator shot to his feet. “This is outrageous!” He pointed toward the door. “Leave. Now. I will not stand for this sort of harassment!”
“It’s not harassment,” Noelle said quietly. “It’s just questioning. And we thought it would be better for you if we did that questioning here, away from prying eyes, instead of back in the limelight of D.C.”
Anger burned in Duncan’s stare. “Now I see why I warranted a personal visit from the FBI. It’s certainly not every day that I’m tracked to my home like this....” His breath heaved out in what was probably supposed to look like an affronted rush. “I don’t like the accusations flying from you two.”
“We’ve made no accusations,” Noelle replied. Thomas had to admire her.
