Page 90 of Mr. Dangerous

"No thank you," I said. "I can't sleep, either. I'm going to work down in thestudy."

"Work?"

"I figure I can't keep Naomi captive for very long. I need to figure out what'sgoingon."

Alice shook her head. "No, I don't thinkyoucan."

I ran my hand over my bristling short hair. "Thanks. For doing what you can to... keep herhere.Safe."

There was the faintest mischievous smile on Alice's lips, as if she believed less in a threat and more in an excuse to keep Naomi and me close together, but I was fine with that. Whateverittook.

"Good night, Alice," I said. "Don't let the... tea... keep you uptoolate."

She made a small, non-committal sound and headed for the back stairs which led down to the kitchen. I headed theotherway.

Down in the study, Joe knelt in front of the fireplace, turningthekey.

"Really?" I asked as I closed the door softlybehindme.

"I'm old," Joe said, leaning his weight on the stone mantle as he creaked his way back up to standing. "I can't take the chill atnight."

When I smiled slightly, Joe shot me a mockingly dark look. "See how broken you are after twenty years in theteams."

"I don't doubt it," I said. There were some girls who would say I was brokenalready.

Joe grabbed his phone from his pocket and answered. "Hey. I'll meet you at the door and letyouin."

I wandered around Mitch's old study while I waited for Joe and the security guys. It was strange to be here with most of the personal details removed: the canvas print of our family that had hung over the fireplace was a blank space now. Mitch's desk was no longer littered with coffee cups and Scotch glasses, waiting for one of the housekeepers to arrive to clean upbehindhim.

I frowned, thinking of the canvas. I hadn't seen it in the condo, either. It showed Mitch as a young man still, in his signature dark leather jacket over a dress shirt and tie. I hadn't seen Mitch wear that beloved jacket in years, either. Mitch had his arm possessively around my mother, who carried an infant Nicky in her arms, his eyes still closed with a newborn's sleepiness. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I really remembered my mother's face anymore or if I remembered her the way she looked in that portrait: wan and pensive, staring out towards the camera with wide blue eyes. Mitch had a careless confidence even in that portrait of his young family, but she didn't seem as relaxed. In front of the two of them stood the three of us older boys, almost triplets with their dark hair and snub noses except for the year's age difference separating each, Liam and Josh's heads both a few inches shorterthanmine.

The door to the study swung open. I pushed the portrait from my mind for now, crossing the room to shake hands with Rook andCastell.

Rook was awoman.

I smiled at her to cover my surprise as we made our introductions. Castell was a short, broad-shouldered man in his forties. His features were bright and animated, his forehead crinkled slightly under a cueball scalp. Rook was tall, taller than Castell, with her short dark hair streaked withsilver.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rob," Rook said. "As much as I wish the circumstances were different. Joe's told us so muchaboutyou."

Rook and Castell moved quickly on from the pleasantries, spreading a series of file folders over Mitch’s enormous antique desk. Castell said, "We've compiled some information on your father's most likelyenemies.”

"You're sure my fatherissafe?"

"We have twenty-four hour security with him in his room. Team of two. All of our people are thoroughly vetted and responsible, Iassureyou."

"I'm sure," I said. "It's my father. I have tocheck."

"I totally understand,"Castellsaid.

"We think the two most likely sources of trouble are due to your father's political initiatives." Rook said. "We can't rule out more recent activity, but it seems like your father wasn't doing muchlately."

"From his credit card statements," Castell said, "It appears he mostly spent his time socializing, supporting the arts, and playingtennis."

"My father did love a good tennis match," I said, leaving aside Mitch's love ofsocializing.I knew exactly what that reallymeant.

“Your father may have been targeted due to his work against defense contractors that he thought were manipulating the government. And one interesting thing has been his relationship with a, well, conspiracytheorist."

"The conspiracybeing?"

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