Fatal Exposure - By Gail Barrett Page 0,58
defensive, waiting for an attack—especially with the police involved. Still, he wished they were meeting somewhere neutral, somewhere public, somewhere he could plan for a quick escape. But Shaffer had flat-out refused.
“Anyhow, it’s better this way,” Brynn scooted over to let several people wearing suits and carrying briefcases hurry by. “The senator won’t know the details, like who attended what event. Junior people handle stuff like that. And they’re usually more willing to talk.”
“Maybe.” But Gwendolyn Shaffer was hardly a flunky, according to the online bios he’d read. Despite an impoverished childhood, she’d worked her way through law school, then embarked on a meteoric career—clerking for a federal judge, serving as a city commissioner and sitting on various boards. Her current duties included everything from advising the senator on domestic and foreign policy to managing his reelection campaign.
Still, Brynn was right. The senator’s chief of staff was their only hope right now—and Brynn was their ticket in. He just hoped they’d escape unscathed.
Still battling his reservations, Parker accompanied her down the gleaming corridor to the office and followed her inside. After giving their names to the secretary, he prowled around the reception area while they waited for the chief of staff. He glanced at the usual political photos decorating the walls—the senator with the president, the senator hosting a conference with leaders from the Muslim community, the senator with the ambassador of Jaziirastan in front of the embassy.
Brynn came up beside him, and he shifted his gaze to her. And once again her beauty bulldozed through him—her soft, downy skin, her glorious, auburn hair, the perfect contours of her creamy lips. And a fierce feeling of possessiveness stole through him, the need to claim and protect this woman in the most fundamental of ways.
He shook his head, appalled at how thoroughly she’d captivated him, obliterating any impartiality he’d once had. But this wasn’t the time to examine his feelings. He had to focus on keeping her safe.
“That must be Erin Walker’s father,” Brynn said, peering at a photo.
Still struggling to subdue his emotions, Parker shifted his gaze to the shot. According to the caption, Senator Riggs had brokered a weapons deal between Walker Avionics and the government of Jaziirastan, a small country bordering Afghanistan. The deal had brought his state hundreds of jobs.
“That figures. The senator gets Walker business in exchange for campaign contributions and touts it as creating jobs.” No wonder Hoffman had warned him off. There were billions of dollars involved.
And speaking of power... Parker scowled at his watch. The chief of staff was taking her time. Five more minutes and they were out of here. He wasn’t risking Brynn’s safety longer than that.
His uneasiness mounting, he trailed Brynn past another row of publicity shots—the senator touring a housing project, the senator christening a shelter for victims of domestic violence, the senator playing golf at a fund-raiser for disadvantaged kids.
Brynn abruptly came to a stop. “I know that man.”
Parker looked at the shot. The senator and another man stood laughing beside a golf cart, waiting to tee off. “Who is it?”
She shot a quick glance back at the receptionist, then lowered her voice. “Oliver Burroughs—he’s Haley’s father. He’s a criminal defense attorney in Baltimore. A real big shot. I’ve never met him, but Haley showed me his picture once. And I don’t usually forget a face.”
“Criminal defense, huh?” Parker studied the photo with interest now. So Senator Riggs golfed with a prominent Baltimore defense attorney. That didn’t mean much; politicians networked all the time. But if there was a chance that attorney defended gang members...
He switched his gaze to Brynn. “Can we visit your friend?”
“Haley?”
“I’d like to ask her some questions about her father, whether he had a connection to Markus Jenkins, that gang leader who was released from jail.”
“You think her father got him released?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it. From what I’ve heard, it was some sort of paperwork glitch. I’d still like to talk to your friend, though, and find out what she knows.”
Her eyes thoughtful, Brynn gave him a nod. “Sure. We can go there as soon as we leave here.”
A woman strode into the reception area just then, and they both turned around. The senator’s chief of staff was in her early forties, average height, and slightly plump. She wore a gray plaid suit, low-heeled shoes and an old-fashioned strand of pearls. She had chin-length, mouse-brown hair peppered with streaks of gray. Yet despite her unremarkable appearance, her steps were brisk