Dirty Little Liars (13 page)

“Does it matter?

She shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Tell me about Courtney. How is she?”

“She’s good. Very ambitious. I get the feeling that she likes to win.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you. We’ve grown close. She trusts me.”

“Is that so?”

He said it like a question he already knew the answer to. And of course he did. Anyone who read the Washington Post did. Her fiancé had been accused of having an affair.

“Was the engagement your idea?”

“No!” she snapped without thinking. Then she tried to downplay her reaction. “I didn’t know about the engagement right away, but if she had told me before I would have encouraged her to say no. I don’t want the senator to cause her more pain.”

“You don’t like Senator Chase?”

Of course she liked Tyler Chase. She was damn near in love with the guy. Or could be, if they didn’t have enough baggage between them to supply a small army.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, I just don’t trust him.”

Covington took another sip of his coffee. “Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t trust anyone.”

“Even you?” she asked.

“Especially me. I can teach you what I know. Make you the best grifter in the world. But know this—at the end of the day, if it comes to a choice between you and another con man, always bet on yourself, because the other guy is certainly going to.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry and she was longing for a cold drink to ease the tension. She found herself yearning to fidget under his intense glare. “Never trust anyone. Got it.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the senator.”

“Chase?”

“Yes.”

She was confused. Wasn’t Courtney the mark?

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know about his campaign. Is he confident that he will win? Has he landed any big endorsements?”

“Other than Courtney’s father, I’m not sure. They talk like they are going to win. They really believe they have a chance. And they’ve got me spying on Robertson’s camp. I’m not sure I’m going to find anything useful.”

“Sure you will. You’re a grifter. You should be able to walk into any room, posing as any person, and get key information out of anybody. If Robertson won’t give you that information, find someone close to him who will. But get it. There’s always dirt to be found.”

“Yeah, well if Courtney were in charge she’d have me just create the dirt.”

“That works too,” Covington said. “As long as you can stay anonymous and people don’t track the story back to you.”

The limo slowed and came to a stop. The driver was back at the door before she could get a clear look outside. She glanced across the seat at Covington.

“You don’t have to get out on my account,” he said. “Zeke will see to it you get home safely. I’m afraid I have more work to do, though, or I’d escort you myself.”

“Oh there’s really no need. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Nonsense. You’re still recovering from the attack. I won’t have you walking about in such a state.”

Such a state?
She was fine, just a little tender. But Dean was no longer paying her any attention. He stepped past her and climbed out of the car. Zeke shut the door softly behind him and then headed back to the driver’s side. Dean disappeared into the glass skyscraper he called home and Juliette couldn’t help but think of the first time she met Ty.

The door to the office building opened and a man in dark jeans and a heavy leather jacket strolled out. He stuck out to Juliette not because his attire was different from the lawyers that frequented the building, but because of the nasty cut on his left cheek. She’d recognize that face anywhere. It was the same one that had stared down at her in Ty’s car. The same man who had swung a punch at her so hard she had bruised two ribs.

Juliette jerked away from the window for fear he might see her. Which was foolish. The windows were tinted. No one could see in without being pressed up to the glass. Still, she was more than a little relieved when the limo pulled away from the curb and headed toward her apartment. What was this man doing in Dean Covington’s law firm?

Chapter 28: Bait

Juliette was too shaken to have Zeke drop her off at her apartment in Georgetown. So instead she had him drive her to the Starbucks down the street from the DNC headquarters. She knew folks for the Robertson campaign were using the office as their DC headquarters. She also knew that no good campaign could function without a decent cup of coffee. One of them was bound to pop in sooner or later. All she had to do was pick the staffer out of the lineup.

Her luck was running high when thirty minutes later Robertson’s chief of staff strolled in. He was older than Tyler by at least ten years, with soft gray roots sprinkled throughout his black hair. He was dressed in typical DC fare: black dress pants and a crisp white shirt with pinstripes so subtle it was barely noticeable if you weren’t up close. The sky blue tie was loose around his neck as if he had been unable to breathe with it fastened normally.

He strode up to the register, greeted the clerk—who seemed to know him by name—then pulled out a list of orders. There were a half dozen drinks in all and the barista went straight to work. Thankfully it was two in the afternoon. Juliette couldn’t imagine trying to fill an order like that during the six to ten coffee rush.

Juliette took advantage of this opportunity to seek a refill, grabbed her glass, and marched over to the register. “Brittany, can I get some fresh coffee to go?” She handed the young girl her mug after twisting off the lid. Then she looked at Jordan Christoff. “That’s some order. I thought I had a caffeine problem.”

“I wish it was all for me.” He smiled. “Gotta keep the troops happy.”

“Oh really? What do you do? Oh wait.” She held up a perfectly manicured finger in front of his mouth, mere inches away from his lips. She knew he could smell the vanilla spice moisturizer she had just rubbed over her hands.

“Let me guess. You’re a lawyer for a non-governmental organization. Something to do with green energy or global warming.”

“That’s a good guess. But no. Nothing nearly as glamorous.”

“That’s a bummer. I was hoping you were one of those die-hard do-gooders.”

“Nah. Politician,” he said. “Though I do work for a Democrat. Does that count?”

Juliette smiled. “Perhaps. Is your candidate one of those hippy-dippy liberals, or one of those—what was Clinton again—’New’ Democrats?”

He laughed. “You got me. He’s definitely the latter.”

“Figures.”

She leaned into him, not touching, but giving the illusion that she needed to be closer. His body instinctively mirrored hers, curving down as if to cocoon her from the outside world.

“So I guess this means I’m not a do-gooder?”

“Not unless you’re a card-carrying PETA member.”

“Does the World Wildlife Fund count?”

Juliette tilted her head as she considered his question. “Yes. But only because those pandas are so damn cute.”

A frenzied barista set the steaming thermos of coffee in front of Juliette and then looked up at her friend. “Your order is coming right up,” she said as she turned back to the espresso machine.

Juliette began screwing the lid back onto her travel mug. “I’ve always been kind of interested in politics, but never quite worked up the nerve to get involved.”

He raised an eye. “You must not be from around here.”

“Is it that obvious?”

He leaned into the counter. “Not obvious, refreshing. There are so many politicians in this town it can be like hiking through a minefield. Not to mention people become very jaded and cynical after being in the business for a few years.”

“You don’t seem all that jaded. Maybe you can give me some pointers?”

“I don’t know what good it will do, but I’m certainly happy to try. Do you have plans this evening?”

Juliette smiled. “Not a one.”

He pulled out a napkin from the counter. “Let’s do this old style.” She took the napkin and a pen he pulled out from his pocket and jotted down her cell phone number. Just as she slipped the napkin back toward him the barista set his order on the counter. “Sorry about the wait.”

“No problem,” He reached into his wallet and tossed two bucks into the tip jar before wishing them both a good day.

Chapter 29: Curiosity

Juliette stood at the entrance of her closet, scrutinizing the three dresses hanging in front of her. She really only had two options. The black dress was too revealing for a man she barely knew. Plus she just wore it to the black and white charity ball with Courtney and Ty. And though he had never claimed the gift, some part of her had already labeled the dress as Ty’s gown. The look in his eyes when he spotted her in the gown made her think dirty things. She didn’t want someone else looking at her with those naughty bedroom eyes.

Juliette scooted the black dress to the side. “And then there were two,” she sighed. The sequined red halter dress and the cream-colored lace and chiffon, which she was pretty certain she wore at Margaret’s cousin’s wedding.

Ugh. She definitely needed to try them on.

She stepped into the red dress and slipped on her silver heels. While she was inspecting herself in the mirror there was a knock at her door.

Great. Just great. She grabbed the hem of the gown so that she could move more freely and shuffled to the door. The sequins rustled against the fabric and she sounded like a muted maraca as she passed through the kitchen. She leaned against the door and snuck a glimpse through the peephole.

Ty stood in her hallway like some kind of sexual genie. Whenever she had an inappropriate thought of him, he seemed to magically appear.

Juliette opened the door.

“Dare I ask what you’re doing here? Haven’t your little midnight visits caused enough problems already?”

Ty wasn’t listening. His eyes were drinking her in from head to toe. He skimmed every covered and not-so-covered inch of her body. Her skin itched for his touch as she watched his face react. She should have taken a step backward, but she didn’t want to break the connection. Instead, she wanted to close the distance between them.

She choked down the urge to touch him and pulled away. Ty took her movement as an invitation to come inside.

“What are you doing?” Juliette asked.

“I came to check in on you, see how things were going with Robertson.”

“Oh,” she tried to keep her voice steady. “Everything’s fine. Why, did Courtney tell you something different?”

“Actually, she said you were on the verge of making a breakthrough.”

Juliette leaned against the arm of the couch and kicked off one of her heels. “I think Courtney is exaggerating. I’ve barely seen Robertson, let alone had a chance to get any intel on him. I might as well be bird-watching.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a nature trail, but I think you might be a bit overdressed for bird-watching. Where are you headed tonight?”

“Art gallery, I think.” She kept her answer vague.

“Really. By yourself?”

Juliette kicked off her other shoe, making her three inches shorter. “What does it matter?”

Ty shrugged as if he didn’t care, but she knew he did. He wouldn’t be asking her otherwise.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume it’s a date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Is he attractive?”

“It’s not a date,” she snapped. “It’s the chief of staff for Robertson’s campaign.” She deliberately left out the part about him being pleasing on the eyes. Not as pleasing as her present company, but Ty was off-limits. So off-limits he might as well be living on the moon.

Tyler frowned. “Jordan Christoff?”

“Yes. Jordan Christoff.”

“Is he picking you up or meeting you there?”

“Ty.” Her voice had a less playful tone to it. He didn’t really have a right to ask any of these questions. They weren’t a couple. They were barely even friends. They fucked. Twice. That was it. Everything else was just business.

If she weren’t working for Covington things might have been different. They could have been friends. Maybe even friends with benefits. Hot, sexy, dirty,
can’t catch your breath because you’re drowning in orgasm
, benefits.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe.” Ty’s words interrupted her naughty tirade. “I don’t like the idea of some strange guy showing up at your door.”

“And yet you keep doing that very thing.”

He leaned on the counter, completely at home in her kitchen. “You know what I mean. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you, not after the last time.”

Ty didn’t need to remind her of the mugging. She relived it every time she walked through an alley or an empty parking garage. She was a tough girl. Usually. But she continued to let down her guard around Tyler and it almost always ended with trouble.

“Well, you don’t have to worry. Jordan is meeting me there. I’ll be totally safe.”

“Why don’t I drive you?”

She stared at him blankly. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“You can’t drive me to an event. You can’t even be seen in public with me thanks to that damn photo going viral. And what if someone from the other campaign spots you? You’ll blow my cover and create an even bigger scandal than the one we are trying to contain.”

“You sound like Winston.”

“Yeah, well maybe you should listen to him every once in a while. He knows what he’s doing.”

Ty reached out and took her hand. She started to jerk away but his fingers clasped down on hers and he held her in a tight grip. His lowered his head, his gaze lingering on the place where their fingers touched. She waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. Instead he slowly began to caress her. His thumb massaged the base her palm. Each stroke sent a new wave of tremors through her body. He pulled her up from the couch so that they were standing mere inches apart and she could feel the burning electricity between them.

“Ty.”

He shushed her with his free hand, a finger gently pressed to her lips. He locked his smoldering blue eyes on hers and she could no longer think straight.