Karen Foley – Devil in Dress Blues (страница 3)

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you hurt or…”

Her voice trailed off in shock as she recognized the silver-haired man who stood pushing his shirt into the waistband of his pants, bleeding from a cut over one eye and looking both aggravated and shaken. What in the world was Edwin Zachary, senior advisor to the President of the United States, doing out here at this late hour?

Suddenly, Sara wished that she hadn’t stopped, that she didn’t have to witness this event, because without even looking inside the car, she knew his female companion couldn’t possibly be his wife. Diane Zachary was one of Washington’s most beloved women, a philanthropist and generous patron of the arts, and a renowned hostess to diplomats from around the world. Sara couldn’t imagine her doing anything improper, never mind going down on her husband while driving.

As if to confirm her thoughts, the passenger door of the car swung open and a young woman practically fell out, laughing a little as she struggled to her feet, pushing her long, dark hair out of her face. She wore a miniscule strapless dress that barely covered her breasts, and based on the creases and wrinkles across the front, Sara was certain that just minutes earlier, the silky fabric had been shoved down around her waist. Definitely not Diane Zachary.

“I told you to keep your hands on the wheel,” she admonished, her words slightly slurred. “That was the agreement. Ohmigod, Eddie, you’re bleeding.”

“Colette.” Edwin’s voice was tight and controlled as he gave the woman a meaningful look. He turned his attention to Sara. “Thank you for stopping, Miss…?”

“Sinclair,” Sara replied automatically. Her voice sounded small. “You are bleeding.”

He touched the area with his fingers, grimacing as they came away smudged with blood. “It’s nothing. A scratch.” His voice was brusque as he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a slim, leather wallet. “I wonder if I could impose on you to do me a favor, Miss Sinclair? I don’t want to keep this young lady waiting in the cold until a tow truck arrives. Would you mind driving her home? I’ll compensate you for your time and gas, of course.” Pulling out several bills, he extended them toward Sara. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this…incident…to anyone. Higher insurance rates and all that—I’m sure you understand.” He gestured for her to take the money.

Appalled, Sara took a step back, raising her hands to indicate she had no intention of accepting the cash. “No, that’s not necessary, really.” She glanced at the other woman, who swayed unsteadily on her feet. “I’m happy to drive your friend home, but I can’t accept your money.”

Colette picked her way with exaggerated care across the grass and draped her arms around Edwin’s neck. Her dress barely covered her curvy rear end. Reaching out, she plucked the bills from his hand. “I’ll take care of this for you, Eddie. After all, I think I’ve earned it.”

Edwin relinquished the money without argument. “It’s, uh, getting cold and my On-Star alert will have notified emergency responders of the accident.” He disentangled himself from Colette’s grasp. “You should get going.”

“We’re leaving,” Colette assured him, tucking the money into the small purse that dangled over one shoulder. Stretching upward, she pressed a kiss against his jaw. “I hope we see each other again soon.”

Sara turned away, uncomfortable. “I’ll wait for you in my car.”

Through the windshield, she watched as Colette walked unsteadily over the embankment toward her. Edwin Zachary had pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and was holding it over his head, trying to find a signal.

“Well, this is awkward,” Colette said as she climbed into the car and shook her hair back. She gave Sara a sidelong look, taking in her evening gown and jewelry. “You look like Cinderella running from the ball. Where’s your Prince Charming?”

Sara smiled, surprising herself. She thought of Sergeant Rafe Delgado, who certainly had looked like a prince, but couldn’t be called charming by any stretch of the imagination. The Prince of Darkness was more like it. She shivered as she recalled the way his black eyes had swept over her.

“There is no Prince Charming,” she replied lightly. “Where am I driving you to?”

The address that Collette gave her wouldn’t put Sara too far out of her way. Glancing at the digital clock on the dash, Sara guessed she could drop the other woman off and still be home by midnight. Cinderella, indeed.

They drove for several miles without speaking. Sara cast a furtive glance at Colette, who was humming softly beneath her breath. This had to be the strangest night of her life. “So…you’re friends with Edwin Zachary, huh?”

Colette shot her a sharp glance. “You know him?”

Sara focused on the dark road and tried to keep her voice neutral. “Well, no, I don’t know him. But I recognized him—he’s one of the president’s senior advisors.”

There was a brief silence. “Would you believe me if I told you he’s my uncle?”

Sara gave the woman a tolerant look. “Uh…no.”

“Really, I can explain—”

“Please,” Sara interrupted, putting up a hand. “You’re both adults. What you do is none of my business. I’m not sure I really want to know, anyway.”

“Turn left here,” Colette said, indicating a side street that led into a neighborhood of brick apartment buildings. “You can let me off at the next building.”

When Sara pulled up to the curb, Colette reached for the door handle and then paused. “Listen,” she said, turning to Sarah, “you seem like a nice person. I know this looks bad, but it’s not really a big deal. Men will be men, you know?”

“Sure.” Sara nodded in agreement, just wanting the woman out of her car so she could go home. She forced a smile. “Have a good night.”

Colette sighed, and then pushed the door open. “Thanks for the ride.” As she tried to climb out of the car, the long strap on her purse caught on the emergency brake between the seats. With a small noise of frustration, Colette gave it a sharp yank, but the purse snapped open and spilled its contents across the seat. Colette swore softly.

“Here, let me help you,” Sara said, and leaned over to scoop money and cosmetics back into the pocketbook before handing it to the other woman.

“Thanks,” Colette murmured, still leaning into the car. Her eyes met Sara’s across the seat. Her voice was low and urgent. “Listen…about tonight… Forget what you saw, okay? Go home to whatever upscale little community you come from and go on living your fairy-tale life.” She glanced at her watch. “But you’d better hurry, Cinderella. It’s after midnight.”

2

SARA WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING with gritty eyes and a nagging headache. She’d spent a restless night, the events of the evening replaying themselves over and over again in her head. And when she did finally fall into a restless sleep, sometime around 3:00 a.m., her dreams had been filled with disturbing pImages** of a darkly handsome man, his body moving over hers with strong, sure movements. She’d wanted to protest, to push him away, but there had been no denying the promise in his eyes or the way he’d made her body respond. She’d woken up hot and achy and unfulfilled.

In the kitchen, she flipped on the small television over her counter and mechanically went through the movements of making coffee. She was reaching for a coffee mug when she went still and then closed the cupboard, her attention riveted on the television. A Washington reporter, elegant in a tailored suit and chic hairstyle, stood in front of the emergency entrance of a local hospital.

“Senior White House advisor, Edwin Zachary, was brought here just past midnight last night with minor injuries, after falling asleep and crashing his car on Post Road. He was treated and released early this morning. There were no other occupants in the car at the time of the accident.”

Sara gave a huff of disbelieving laughter. “Fell asleep, my ass,” she muttered, and went into the hallway to retrieve the little evening bag she’d carried last night. She couldn’t wait to call Lauren and tell her about the incident. If anyone would understand the ramifications of what she had witnessed, Lauren would. Sara might not approve of everything Lauren did to get a story, but the woman took her job as an editor very seriously. She would know the best way for Sara to proceed.

Inside the evening bag she found her wallet, a lipstick, and Rafe Delgado’s business card, but no cell phone. It was only then that she recalled dropping it as she’d slammed on the brakes following the accident. Grabbing her keys, she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops, opened the door to her fourth-floor apartment and made her way swiftly down the staircase.

Her car was parked just a few doors down from her building, and she unlocked it, crouching to check the floor on the passenger side. The carpeting was black, making it difficult to see anything. Ducking her head to peer beneath the seat, Sara caught sight of her cell phone, wedged between the seat and the center console. Stretching her arm, she was straining to reach the phone when her fingers closed around what felt like a small book. Pulling it free, she saw it was a pocket-sized day planner. She retrieved the cell phone and locked her car, and then carried both items back to her apartment. Dropping the planner onto the kitchen table, she quickly dialed her editor.