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“So, what’s the plan? My hotel first to pick up the drives, check on a response from Prospero and then head to the bank to secure the drives in your safe deposit box?”
“Sounds good.”
He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tightness that had bunched his muscles when he’d revealed his sob story to Claire. He needed to get this ball back into her court.
“Do you have anything else to tell me about this Hamid Khan? I don’t think he’s on Prospero’s radar at all.”
“Why would he be? Except for the connection to his uncle, he’s not an extremist.”
“Who’s his uncle?”
“Tamar Aziz. Are you familiar with him?”
“Yeah, low-level guy, a driver, bodyguard type.”
“That’s right, but he’s in the thick of things, and that’s not Hamid.”
“How’d you get in contact with Hamid?”
“Through some different channels. I got some leads from Shane’s interpreter. He’d been kidnapped along with Shane, but he was released.”
“You play dangerous games, Claire—then and now.”
“Maybe so, but Hamid was never a danger, and as you may have gathered, I almost blurted out that the valet I saw near the director’s car was most definitely not Hamid.” She swept the hair back from her face. “They’re getting bad information from someone.”
“I wonder how the FBI came up with his name. They must’ve been looking into his activities thoroughly to come across your connection to him.”
“If they are, they’re allowing the real perpetrators to escape.”
“The real perpetrators who are somehow connected to your stepfather?”
“Exactly.”
“So your stepfather must’ve been thrilled to see the FBI show up on his doorstep and question you about Hamid Khan.” He reached out and dialed down the heat. He was starting to sweat under his layers of clothes—or maybe it was the subject matter.
She tapped the edge of her phone against her chin. “Are you implying that Spencer himself somehow implicated Hamid?”
“He knew you’d been contacting players. It’s no stretch to believe he knew their names.”
Hunching her shoulders, she crossed her arms. “He’s probably been spying on me ever since he couldn’t have me committed for life.”
“And you’ve been spying on him. What a game of cat and mouse.”
“He’s going to think we’re a couple of sentimental fools coming back out to Brooktown.” She turned to face him, a smile playing about her lips. “How did you come up with that story, anyway? You proposed to me online? That’s romantic.”
“Hey.” He smacked the steering wheel before pulling into the hotel’s circular drive. “I wanted to see the very spot where you were sitting when I popped the question. That’s romantic.”
“If you say so.” She rolled her eyes.
He pulled up behind a car and stuck his head out the window, yelling at the valet. “Is it okay if I leave my car here for about fifteen minutes?”
“Sure. Do you mind leaving the keys in case we have to move it?”
He killed the engine and dangled the keys out the window in exchange for a red ticket, which he dropped into the pocket of his shirt.
The valet opened Claire’s door and she paused. “Do you think it might take longer than fifteen minutes if you’ve gotten a response?”
“I don’t expect any feedback this soon. Besides, they have your car keys if they have to move the car.”
With no response from Prospero, it took them less than fifteen minutes to gather his laptop and Claire’s thumb drives from the safe.
He hauled a small carry-on bag onto the bed. “I might as well stuff the rest of my clothes in here and take them back to your place.”
She pointed as his computer. “And the laptop? Do you think it’ll be safe at my house with Spencer there?”
“Why would Correll want to poke around my laptop?”
“You never know.”
“Don’t worry. It’s as secure as Fort Knox, and I want to have it with me in case Prospero comes through with something today.”
