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Indy giggled. “That’s not a very convincing eye-roll.” She smiled, sighed out a breath, then puckered her lips expectantly. “Now, are you going to kiss me before we enter the arena? Just so that fate knows it’s our story, not Benson’s?”
Ice tried to groan but could only manage a grin. This woman turned on every protective instinct in his masculine heart, but at the same time she was his partner, his co-warrior, someone who would fight by his side. He hated that she was right, but he also loved it.
“I love you, Indy,” he whispered, leaning in and smothering her puckered mouth with his manly maws.
“I love you too, Ice,” she murmured into his mouth, her words drowned out by the buzzing in Ice’s brain.
The kiss lingered for a long moment, reminding Ice of how they’d lost track of time on the flight, how they’d made love for what felt like a frantic flash but turned out to be an impossible-to-imagine six hours. Maybe those Darkwater SEALs weren’t just lost-at-sea sailors with their drunken musings about how space and time were illusions.
Be that as it may, Ice had no illusions about the deadly reality of what might transpire at the meeting just down the block from them.
Finally they broke from the kiss, and Ice peered through the windshield towards the Senator’s townhome. Benson’s boat-sized Ford Crown Victoria was parked outside between two traffic cones. The black Chevy Suburban parked on the next block was probably Rhett’s.
Which meant all the players were in their places.
The stage was set.
The cards were dealt.
Now all they could do was play it out.
46
You’re played out, Benson thought with a sickening dread in his gut. Rhett had flinched at the provocation, but just barely. He wasn’t going to lash out, not yet at least, maybe not at all.
There was no sign of Ice and Indy yet, and perhaps it wouldn’t matter anyway, not with the kind of self-control Rhett was displaying right now.
Which meant Benson was suddenly down to his last option.
We blew it, Benson thought angrily. Things moved too fast. The timing was off. Rhett led everyone upstairs and then forced the issue by dropping the charade and challenging Kaiser with that taunt about being washed up as Director, about all of them being sad clowns in another Darkwater circus.
No,youblew it, Benson seethed at himself. You left too much to chance, went all-in when you should have folded your cards. But no, you think you’re a fucking wizard, some kind of mystical magician. Hell, Indy doesn’t even know Rhett is her father. And you were going to spring it on her at this meeting? You’d be more likely to triggerherinto doing something stupid than Rhett.
Hell, maybe Kaiser isn’t the one who should be put out to pasture, Benson told himself. It’s you that’s lost your edge, John. An over-the-hill cowboy shooting blanks at shadows.
Benson felt beads of sweat prick his brow. He was losing track of time, wasn’t certain how long it had been since anyone had said a damn word in this tense bedroom which suddenly felt smaller than a box. Now he realized his hand was on his holstered gun, frozen like he’d been caught mid-draw, indecision stopping his advance.
But maybe the move for his gun was a good thing, Benson realized when he saw a flash of doubt in Rhett’s eyes, like Rhett had suddenly seen that Benson might be prepared to sacrifice himself to win this game, kill Rhett in cold blood and take the fall, make himself the patsy in his own game.
“So that’s your game.” Rhett’s voice broke the silence, his gaze flicking from Benson’s gun to Benson’s eyes. He glanced at Kaiser, then back at Benson. “You’ve confessed all our sins from thirty years ago to Father Kaiser, and it appears he’s forgiven you, if not me.” He flashed a manic grin, then went cool again just as fast. “Which means you’ve shown Kaiser the video, Paige as well. That’s how you turned Paige against me, didn’t you?” He shook his head, licked his lower lip, which Benson noticed bore signs that he’d been plucking at it. “But we both know that video doesn’t mean shit anymore. Hell, it wouldn’t hold up even if Ihadkilled her all those years ago. No way Kaiser lets you leak it to Robinson or the FBI or the press. It makes him look like a whiny snitch, makes you look like the scheming cheating sonofabitch you’ve always been.”
Benson narrowed his eyes, holding back a tight smile as Rhett dropped at least part of the façade, switching tactics from defense to offense, taking a step closer to what Benson hoped was the point of no return, past which Kaiser’s deal to stand down would be off the table.
Benson took his time to reply, went over what Rhett had just said.
Or rather, what Rhetthadn’tsaid.
The guy hadn’t eventriedto deny that Indy O’Donnell was the daughter Rhett thought he’d murdered three decades ago.
No scoffing protests.
No demands for DNA evidence.
No denial at all.
Just acceptance.
So maybe it did mean something to Rhett.
