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Chapter 15
Shane was just taking his seat on the Senate floor when his smartphone dinged for an incoming text. He usually switched the notification sound off and the vibrate on when heading down to the floor, but he’d forgotten this time.
He glanced at the text, then cursed silently. U R right. Plates stolen.
It was too much to hope for that whoever was following him last night would have slipped up enough to use his own license plates, especially since Shane already knew the hit man had used stolen plates before when he’d left the bombs at his house and Carly’s. But it would have made tracking him down a lot easier. And a lot less deadly.
He already knew the answer—who but the would-be assassin would use stolen plates?—but beneath his desk he surreptitiously tapped out, FBI? Agency?
No. Just the one word, but it decided him.
He glanced left and right, but no one was paying him the least attention. As was often the case, senators filed in late and took their places as if they had all the time in the world. Shane never did that, but he was the exception rather than the rule.
Need another favor, he typed.
He smiled to himself at the response. Tell me something I don’t know. Before he could reply, another text arrived. My place. Tonight. 7.
He replied, You’re not working?
24/7. Window.
Shane chuckled softly, shaking his head. So Niall had a window of opportunity with his job, did he? As if Shane were stupid enough to believe that.
The good news was that he didn’t need to rely on the FBI or the agency to set up the sting. Not that he didn’t trust them, but he didn’t need someone telling him he couldn’t put himself out there as live bait. Because he had every intention of doing just that to catch the hit man before he could kill Carly.
* * *
Carly looked up from her desk when J.C. stuck his head inside her door. “You’re early...for you,” he said, moving to fill the doorway. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. The senator is a robin, and night owl you is rolling over and exposing your tender underbelly in surrender.”
She told him what he could do with himself, and he merely laughed before taking a seat in front of her desk. “But you are sleeping with him, right?”
She ignored the question. “What do you want, J.C.?” she asked pointedly. “And you’d better have a good reason for being here. Because, you know, I could file a sexual harassment claim. And don’t think I won’t.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “Overnights are in. I thought you might be interested.”
That made her sit up. “What do they say?”
“We smeared the competition. Your interview with the wife and kids was the kicker. Especially spliced in between those scenes from the dash-cam video. The viewers were riveted.”
Carly allowed herself a tiny smile. That had been her idea, and J.C. had enthusiastically endorsed it. “So what’s our follow-up?” she asked.
“Philadelphia mayor and chief of police are holding a press conference this afternoon. Damage control. Too little, too late, but...” He shrugged. “I’ve got a crew standing by in Philly to cover, but I’d rather it was you.” He glanced at his watch. “You’d have to leave within the hour, though, to make it...if you want to go.”
She frowned. “If I want to go? What kind of question is that? Of course I want to go.”
“You don’t have to check in with the senator first?”
“What century are you living in, J.C.?” she asked fiercely. “This is my job. I don’t need to ask anyone’s permission to do my job.”
J.C. held up both his hands, palms out. “Hang on, Carly. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Look, the FBI was here early Monday morning. And again Wednesday.”
“What?”
“I’ll be honest. I pretty much refused to answer their questions on Monday because I could tell from the get-go they were leaning toward the bomb in the senator’s car being some kind of publicity stunt. How do you think I found out so quickly that morning and called you?”
“I...” She was nonplussed. “You have sources, J.C., just as I do. I never really thought about it.”
