world know? Mike cleared his throat. “Jack Coburn isn’t too pleased you contacted his wife directly, but when you mentioned a connection between Correll and a terrorist group, we thought it best to investigate. You have some video proof?”
“I do. I’m sure it proves...something. You’ll see.” She’d hooked her finger around a diamond necklace encircling her neck, and the large pendant glinted in the low light of the library.
“When can I see it?” Jack wasn’t all that convinced Claire had any proof of anything, but he didn’t want to leave any stone unturned—especially when that stone involved his wife’s friend.
“I have it in a secure location. I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”
“Your stepfather would be playing with fire if it’s true. He has access to the highest levels of government.”
“That’s the scary part. My stepfather is a member of the Senate Intelligence Committee and was on the short list for director a few years ago. He still may be on that list.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of your suspicions one way or another.”
Claire tapped her chin with two fingers, and a diamond bracelet matching the necklace slipped to her elbow. “I have more than suspicions. I’m almost positive Spencer is involved in terrorist activity.”
“You’ll have to give me more of the details, including that video, and I’ll start digging around, but let’s play the loving couple to establish my cover first—just not in front of your son.” He straightened his bow tie as she wandered toward the window to gaze at the winter wonderland. “You weren’t going to jump from that balcony, were you?”
“So you did know that was me.” She met his eyes in the glass of the window.
“Not when I first saw you outside, but I figured it out when I saw your dress. It’s rather—” his gaze meandered from the hem of her full skirt to the top of the dress that had a deep V slashed almost to her waist “—distinctive.”
“Well, I would hope so. I paid enough money for it.” She tapped a manicured fingernail on the windowpane. “I was hiding from Spencer. I had been in his office trying out passwords to unlock his computer when he and some smarmy donor decided to have a meeting.”
Whistling through his teeth, Mike joined her at the window. “Claire, why are you really after your stepfather? Most people don’t see a few odd signs, a meeting on video with someone suspicious and immediately think ‘terrorist plot.’”
“Just wait until you hear the whole story and see the videos before jumping to conclusions about me and my motives.”
“Deal.” He held out his hand and they shook on it. Still keeping her hand in his, he said, “Now, let’s go downstairs and pretend to be a newly engaged couple.”
Pointing out the window, she pressed her forehead against the glass. “Speaking of terrorism, there’s the director down there. Isn’t he technically your boss?”
“Technically, although I’ve never met him and most of what we do at Prospero is under the CIA radar.” He glanced into the street, where a balding man was exiting a town car as a valet held open his door. “I’m surprised to see him at your party. Didn’t you have some beef with him a few years ago?”
Another valet hurried to the front of the vehicle, stooped over and then continued up the street at a jog.
The hair on the back of Mike’s neck quivered at about the same time one of the director’s security detail lunged across the car toward his charge.
Mike instinctively grabbed Claire around the waist and yanked her away from the window just as the explosion shattered the glass and rocked the town house.
Claire landed on the floor with Mike’s body on top of hers. Acrid smoke billowed into the room from the shattered window and her nostrils twitched.
Mike’s face loomed above hers, his mouth forming words she couldn’t hear over the ringing in her ears. Sprinkles of glass quivered in his salt-and-pepper hair like ice crystals, and she reached out to catch them on the tips of her fingers.
The crystals bit into her flesh and she frowned at the spot of blood beading on her fingertip.
Mike rose to his knees over her and dragged her across the carpet, away from the jagged window. She couldn’t breathe. Cold fear began to seep into her blood.
Rolling to her stomach, she began to crawl toward the door.
Mike’s voice pierced her panic. “Claire. Are you all right?”
Cranking her head over her shoulder, she had enough breath left in her lungs to squeeze out one word. “Ethan.”
Mike jumped to his feet and hooked her beneath her arms, pulling her up next to him. “Where is he?”
She pointed to the ceiling with a trembling finger, and then launched herself at the door of the library, her knees wobbling like pudding.
Mike followed her upstairs, keeping a steadying hand on the small of her back. Through her fog, Claire heard shrieks and commotion from downstairs. The noise shot adrenaline through her system, and she ran up the rest of the stairs to Ethan’s room.
She shoved open the door and rushed to her son’s bed, where he sat up rubbing tears from his eyes.
“Mommy?”
She dived onto the bed and enveloped him in a hug, blocking the cold air breezing through one shattered window. “Are you hurt?”
Shaking his head, he wiped his nose across her bare arm. “That was loud.”
“That was loud.” She kissed the top of his head, her gaze taking in Mike hovering at the door of the bedroom. “Don’t worry. It was just an accident outside. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Ethan disentangled himself from her arms and fell back against his pillow. “Uh-huh. Can I look out the window to see the accident?”
“Absolutely not. There’s glass all over the floor. I’m going to move you to another bedroom across the hall, as long as there are no broken windows on that side.”
Ethan squinted and pointed at Mike. “Who are you?”
“Pointing is rude.” She grabbed his finger and kissed it. “That’s my friend Mr. Brown.”
Ethan waved. “Hi, Mr. Brown. Did you see the accident?”
Mike took two steps into the room accompanied by the sound of sirens wailing outside. “No, but I heard it. You’re right. It was loud.”
Ethan’s nanny stumbled into the room, her hands covering her mouth. “Ethan? Oh, Claire, you’re here. What was that?”
Claire held a finger to her lips. “Just an accident outside, Lori. Did the windows shatter in your room on the other side?”
“No.
