The Danforths: Marc, Tanya & Abe: The Laws of Passion / Terms of Surrender / Shocking the Senator

As he ran a finger across her cheek, her eyes opened to the size of two full moons. Marc tried to find the words to make her see herself as he saw her. “Your big brown eyes hold every mystery ever kept by womankind. Your skin is pure pleasure to touch. And your hair…”

He grabbed a handful of her deep ebony ringlets and totally lost his train of thought. Leaning toward her, he hovered between agony and ecstasy. All he could see was her pale soft lips, just inches from his own. But he wasn’t sure she wanted the same thing.

Close enough to smell a slight scent of musk, he bent forward and pressed his lips to hers. She whimpered with an erotic sound that fired his blood. She was all woman now.

Marc deepened the kiss, needing to consume her before the ground gave way under his feet. “I want you,” he whispered into her mouth.

Suddenly, he felt an angry shove against his mid-section. Slightly dazed, he lifted his head and gazed down into her face.

“Nice try, counselor.” She grinned as she stepped away from him. “That’s quite a line you’ve got going there. But I told you last night that sharing kisses is a mistake. I’m here to protect you and find evidence against the cartel. If we can locate Escalante, all the better. I’m not here to jump into your bed.”

She walked over to the bedroom door and held it open, indicating she was ready for him to leave. “It’s late. We’ll be going to your office in the morning, just as you usually would. You’d better get some rest.”

Reluctantly, he shuffled out the door. But before she could close it against him, he turned back.

“The heat is there between us, sugar,” he told her. “You can’t make it go away just because you don’t want it. Sooner or later that heat will bubble over. Neither of us can stop it.”

She laughed and raised her eyebrows. “I have a lot more control than that…sugar. Now go to bed. I’ll keep an eye on things tonight. You get a good night’s sleep.”

He pressed his lips together and stepped back enough so that she could close the door in his face. Lord, this was going to be a tough night.

Muttering under his breath, Marc went down the hall and prepared himself for bed—alone. But he was absolutely positive he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep.

He was a brilliant corporate attorney. That’s what everyone told Dana the next morning at the Danforth offices. Everyone said so, including Marc’s secretary and all three of his junior assistants, two of whom were women.

But none of the women in the place had so much as hinted that Marc ever made a move on them. And Dana definitely tried to leave the way open for them to share the gossip. She wasn’t sure how knowing about his private life would help her with the job, but she still wanted to know.

At the office she felt totally out of her comfort zone, dressed in the black Donna Karan suit and designer high heels that Imogene had made her promise to wear. However, she didn’t seem to be out of place there. A few of the women complimented her on the suit, but they were all dressed very much the same way.

By mid-afternoon, her feet were killing her and she was beginning to believe that Marc Danforth was a saint. She sat down in the conference room he’d taken over for their use. Kicking off her shoes under the table and rubbing her nylon-clad feet together, Dana figured the man had better be everything he’d claimed to be. Otherwise, she would be forced to kill him when this was all over—if for no other reason than she’d actually had to put on these crazy high heels for him.

She couldn’t wait for the work day to be done so she could get back into her jeans and running shoes. But in the meantime, she worked on setting up the computer Marc’s secretary had provided. Dana entered her password into the Bureau’s covert Web site and was immediately allowed into the FBI files they’d begun compiling on the cartel.

“Hi. How’s it going?” Marc sauntered in a little while later, followed by a very sophisticated dark-skinned woman dressed in a soft aqua pants suit. “Dana, I want you to meet Jasmine Carmody Brooks. She’s brought us her files on the cartel.”

Dana took Jasmine’s outstretched hand and the two of them immediately understood each other. By her firm no-nonsense handshake and the clearly determined look in her big brown eyes, Dana knew Jasmine was just as much of a competitive go-getter as she was.

Jasmine seemed to be sizing her up, as well. “There’ll be a small article in tomorrow’s paper, announcing Marc’s engagement to the daughter of one of Abraham’s old navy buddies from Louisiana—a Miss Dana Dele-croix. I spoke to your superior, Steve Simon, and he said he’d fix it so that you had a background there in case anyone checked.

“Abraham mentioned the happy news this morning at his press conference when someone questioned him on Marc’s arrest,” Jasmine continued with a smile. “It proved to be quite a diversion.”

Marc pulled out a chair at the conference table for her. They all sat down while Jasmine unearthed a stack of files from a leather briefcase and placed them on the table.

“Dana, Jasmine tells me that a couple of tabloid reporters are sneaking around downstairs, trying to get a line on where we are and when they can try for a picture,” Marc said with a grin. “Are you going to be ready for your first run-in with the paparazzi when we leave here later?”

Dana felt herself grimace and tried to change it into a casual smile. “You sure we can’t just give them the slip? I guarantee you I’m better at hiding than they are at finding people.”

Marc chuckled, but shook his head. “Sorry. But they’ll be bored soon enough, once we let them have what they want. Tomorrow someone else will be their target.”

“Okay, fine,” she muttered. Turning to Jasmine, she watched her place the manila folders on the table.

“I started collecting information on the coffee suppliers and the cartel back in April, right after the Danforth warehouse office explosion,” Jasmine said as she flipped through the files. “Ian has seen all this information. But I told him I wouldn’t break the story while Marc was still involved.”

“Good thing,” Dana told her. “I suspect that Marc is only alive now because he’s the pawn the cartel is using to get to Ian. You break the story on the cartel and Marc’s usefulness is over.”

Once the words were out of her mouth, Dana had a queasy feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. She snuck a peek at Marc’s guarded expression.

Marc. Bright, energetic and a spectacular kisser, Marc Danforth. She couldn’t imagine him being killed, or that anyone could take his fantastic life away from him.

Dana swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes on the folder in Jasmine’s hand.

“These are pictures that I’ve been taking of people coming and going from the coffee suppliers’ offices over on Montgomery Street,” Jasmine told them. “I can identify some of the men, but there are a few that I can’t place.”

Dana looked over her shoulder as Jasmine spread the photos out before her. “There must be hundreds of pictures here.” She looked at each one as Jasmine handed them over. “And the quality is terrific.”

Dana studied each shot carefully. “Wow. Great telephoto lens work here, Jasmine. And just look at the infrared quality of these.” She passed each picture to Marc, after checking the backs for dating references.

“At the beginning I thought I’d get a few candid shots that would be useful for an article,” Jasmine said. “But the longer I sat there, the more I realized that nothing much happened at that office during the daylight hours. No one important went in or out. So I started watching the building late at night. That’s when I got the best shots.”

“What did Wes have to say about all this late night work?” Marc asked.

“You know Wes. He’s a computer fanatic,” Jasmine told Dana with a chuckle. “After-midnight work might as well be broad daylight to him.”

Jasmine hesitated a moment before continuing. “Well that is, until he suddenly figured out which part of town I’d been going to all those late nights. He has asked me not to go back alone.”

Dana shot a concerned glance toward the self-assured woman. “He’s absolutely right. Don’t go there alone…in fact…don’t go back there at all. Let the FBI take over the surveillance now.”

Jasmine raised her chin. “It’s my story.”

“Naturally. I’ll ask my boss to make sure you’re the one to break any news.” Dana spotted a blurry face in one of the night shots. “Is that Escalante?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve only seen his photo on the Internet.” Jasmine handed her a magnifying glass. “Whoever that man is, he arrived in the company of several goons and a chauffeur. It could be Escalante.”

Marc remained quiet as they rifled through the photos. The idea that he was looking at drug lords—at men who held his fate in the palm of their hands—had taken the spark right out of him.

He glanced down at the picture in his hand and almost passed it by. Then the reality of what he was seeing hit him. “I can’t believe this. Jasmine, have you ever seen this man before?” Waving the picture at her, he forced himself to calm down and try to hold the photo steady.

Both women looked at it. “Actually, that man did look familiar to me,” Jasmine replied after she’d checked the photo in his hand. “But I haven’t been able to place him. I do remember that he showed up at the coffee suppliers office just before dawn twice in the last month.”

The anger swiftly blasted past his normal reserve. “Son of a bitch.” Marc handed the picture to Dana. “This is David Chastain. He’s an assistant federal prosecutor for our district. And he’s in charge of prosecuting my case.”

“Well, that makes him a very interesting man in my book,” Dana said calmly.

“Interesting?” He tried to keep his voice steady but tiny cracks of tension burst through. “Don’t you see what this means? Chastain must be working for the cartel. He’s the one that helped them frame me.”

“Again,” Dana began. “Interesting premise. But you don’t have any proof.”

“Proof? Why else would a federal prosecutor be sneaking into a known cartel front? And before dawn at that?”

Dana laid her hand on his forearm. “Calm down, Danforth. We’ll run a background check on him. That’ll give us a start. Then we’ll check his bank records and credit lines.”

He knew she was just trying to placate him. “All of that is circumstantial,” he ground out. “And besides, it’ll take too long. You heard Ian. We’ve only got a couple more weeks to get my name cleared or Ian gives in to the cartel.”

“We can’t panic here and ruin the investigation,” she said softly. “Let’s just take each step as it comes. We’ll find the proof we need to clear your name.”

Marc muttered to himself, knowing it was useless to argue with her. But he would be damned if any fresh-faced prosecutor was going to get away with bringing down the Danforth family. He would just have to think of something.

Dana made arrangements with Jasmine to copy all of her notes to turn over to the FBI. Then she wrote her a receipt for the photos. Meanwhile, Marc stood up and paced the room, trying to come up with a plan.

“Jasmine,” Dana said at last. “Something just occurred to me. Where were you when you took these pictures? In a vehicle on the street?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No. I considered that. But I came to the conclusion that I’d be too exposed.”

“Good thinking. So where were you?”

“The newspaper just happens to own one of the warehouses across the street from the cartel’s office,” Jasmine told her through a grin. “They store newsprint and extra equipment there. It was actually quite comfortable too…except for an occasional rat.”

“Hmm. Do you think you could get me a key to the place? Without giving away who wants it, that is?”

Jasmine shrugged a shoulder. “Probably. I can try.”

The afternoon was nearly gone, and Marc didn’t want to hang around the office any longer. So he thanked Jasmine for all her help and told Dana to get ready to face the reporters downstairs.

On their way down in the elevator, he could feel her trembling beside him. “Just don’t say anything to any of them, slick,” he murmured. “You’ll be a big hit if you simply stand there and smile. The cameras will love that face of yours.” He took her hand and squeezed it to give her a little bit of his own strength.

“Smiling will be the hardest part,” she told him. But he also noticed that she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin with a determined grimace.

As it turned out, there were only a handful of reporters hanging around by the employee entrance. Most of them seemed to be photographers and not terribly interested in getting long quotes.

“When are you two planning on tying the knot?” one of them yelled out, amid the click of shutter lenses.

“As soon as we can,” Marc replied with a casual air.

“Aren’t you afraid the nuptials might have to be held in the slammer?” someone else asked.

Before he could answer that one, Dana turned to the man with a wide smile. “Not at all. In this country, innocent people don’t go to jail for crimes they didn’t commit.”

That got a huge laugh from the crowd, and the flashbulbs popped around them frantically. He bent over to whisper in her ear. “Nice save, sugar. Thanks.”

After twenty more minutes of nonstop smiling, Marc thanked everyone and helped Dana into the passenger side of the SUV. He drove away slowly, watching the reporters disperse in his rearview mirror.

“I imagine that ought to hold them,” he told her.

“I hope so. I think my face is permanently stuck in this position.” She rubbed her cheeks with her palms.

“How about if we go home and I fix us a little something to eat? I’ll give you a back rub after dinner—as a reward for a great save with the paparazzi.”

She shot him a sideways scowl, but then reached down and slipped off her shoes. “Make it a foot rub and you’re on. But first, drive around town a little. We need to deliver these files to the FBI office and make sure no one is following us.”

The normal twenty-minute drive home took over an hour. And Marc spent most of it racking his brain for a plan to link David Chastain to the cartel and save his skin.

Finally, he decided that he wanted to break into Chastain’s office and rummage through his files. Maybe with a little luck he’d find incriminating evidence. Looking over to Dana, Marc came to the conclusion that she would never agree to such a thing. It was totally illegal—and possibly dangerous.

So now he had to dream up a way to get out of the house without her.

Treating her like a queen, with a steak dinner, a bottle of his best merlot and a long soaking bath, was more his pleasure than hers. By midnight, sitting in front of the fireplace, she was groggy and pliable. Just the way he’d hoped she would be by now.

Stretching his arms, he gave a good imitation of a yawn. “Guess it’s time to hit the sack.” He stood and turned to her.

“Mmm, hmm,” she groaned. “It’s been a nice evening, Marc. Thank you.”

He pulled her to her feet. But she came up like a rag doll and ended pressed into his chest. Having her there, cuddled against him all soft and warm, made the whole scene much too intimate and cozy. He considered dragging her off to his bed instead of putting her into hers and then sneaking off for his breaking-and-entering caper.

She was nearly asleep standing up, and Marc shook his head at his own foolishness. Naw. Dana had made it clear enough that her first allegiance was to the law and the FBI. He wouldn’t take advantage of her in a moment of weakness. Hers or his.

“Let’s get you to bed, sugar,” he mumbled. What he’d decided to take advantage of was the opportunity to prove his innocence.

Marc lifted her off her feet and swung her into the guest bed. “Night, Dana. Sleep tight.” He paused only long enough to pull the blankets around her and to smooth away a soft curl that covered her cheek.

Creeping down the hall to his bedroom, he figured he would give her a half hour to fall sound asleep. His plan was going to be tricky. She’d already proven she was a light sleeper. But without Laddie around, Marc knew he could get out of the house without waking her.

He turned on the TV in his bedroom. Though he never watched the thing, the noise would make a great cover. Then he turned off all the lights and waited.

When he was nearly sleepy enough to decide to give up the whole idea, Marc knew it was now or never. He slipped down the hall past her closed bedroom door and snuck into the darkened kitchen. He planned to go out the back door and then idle the car out of the yard.

With his shoes in hand, Marc made it to the door. But right before he put his hand on the alarm to disable it, the image entered his mind of doing this exact same thing as a teenager at boarding school. What was the matter with him? A grown man, sneaking out of his own house.

Dana. She’d be so upset when she discovered he’d gone off without her. He couldn’t stand imagining her disappointment.

Setting his shoes on the floor, he turned back and flipped on the overhead light. No. If he was going to find the proof of his innocence, she would just have to agree to come with him.

He marched through the house, flipping on lights as he went. Marc hoped she wasn’t sleeping too soundly, but he couldn’t let that stop him. She had to hear him out. He had to make her listen.

When he pushed open her door, he was surprised to find Dana fully dressed and on her feet.

“Changed your mind?” She was checking her gun and didn’t look up at him.

“You knew?”

She chuckled deep in her throat. “It’s what I would’ve done if I were you.” Stashing the gun in a holster at her shoulder, she shrugged on a jacket. “Mind you, I never would’ve let you get out of the yard without me…but I’m very glad you decided to come back on your own.”

Marc cleared his throat. “Are we going to Chastain’s office together?”

“No. That would be illegal—and probably useless. If there’s anything incriminating of Chastain’s that we can use, it’ll be encrypted on his computer and not laying around his office for anyone to find. I think in Chastain’s case, we’ll be better off letting the Bureau tail his movements and get a warrant to tap his phone and computer.”

“Then, where are we going?”

Dana finally looked over at Marc and felt the jolt clear down to her toes. When dressed in a suit and tie like he’d been earlier today, the man was devastatingly handsome. But put him in jeans and a black pullover and the sight did wild and wicked things to her libido.

Damn, but she was sure glad he hadn’t tried to leave her behind. It looked like Marc Danforth was turning out to be just as honest and trustworthy as everyone said he was. So how come he kept trying to hit on her in her most vulnerable moments? It couldn’t be because he really thought she was beautiful, could it?

Exasperated with the direction of her thoughts, Dana pulled car keys out of her backpack and sidled past him into the hall. “We’re going to check out that newspaper warehouse on Montgomery Street. I’m sure Steve’s gotten permission for us to enter it by now. I called him about it after dinner.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marc narrow his eyes. He was beginning to figure out that she’d been planning this all along.

“Well?” she urged as she started down the hall. “Come on, Danforth. You’re about to get your first lesson in surveillance. You’ll love it. It’s a barrel of laughs.”

Three hours and four huge mugs of D & D Coffeehouse’s extrastrong coffee later, the silence of the dingy warehouse was beginning to weigh on her nerves. Marc had been sitting still, with a pair of binoculars trained on the coffee suppliers’ alleyway entrance for the last hour.

Dana did a couple of isometric exercises with her calves and forearms and then decided to break the silence. “This has to be that boring time you were mentioning the other night. As long as we keep a careful watch, there’s no reason we can’t talk. How about telling me what happened a year ago that made you swear off dating?”

Even in the dark, she could see him grimace. “It’s not a big deal, Dana. I didn’t find out I had an incurable disease or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

When she didn’t counter his snide remark, he seemed to finally give up his reluctance to talk. “All right. You might as well hear about my most embarrassing moment. If I don’t tell you, you’ll hear it from one of my brothers or cousins anyway.”

He didn’t take the glasses away from his eyes, but he relaxed back onto the stack of newsprint behind him. “A little over a year ago I thought I was the Danforth that had everything going. I was engaged to marry my college sweetheart. We were redecorating the farm so the two of us could start our lives there. I had recently been named Chief Counsel for my family’s business. And my best friend from boarding school had just moved to the area to help me put together the family’s new charitable foundation.”

He took a breath. “Everything was right with the world.”

“A charitable foundation?”

Marc nodded in the dark, but she could see his features by the faint light streaking through the dirty windows. “The Danforth Foundation. I wanted our family to stand for something important. Dad was willing. He thought it would be good for his political career.”

“So what happened? Did you set up the foundation?”

“No.” He took a deep breath and she knew he was steeling himself to say something that might hurt. “I…I was pretty full of myself at the time. Thought I was on the brink of a great life with the perfect woman. Thought I was better than my brothers and cousins who wouldn’t or couldn’t settle down and find someone who loved them.”

“Pride has been the downfall of many men and women over the centuries,” she whispered.

Shaking his head sadly, he grimaced. “Yes, well. I had it—in spades. Then last fall, I got lucky and managed to come home a day earlier than I’d planned from a fund-raising trip I’d taken with Dad. The condo was dark. I figured Alicia was already asleep so I took off my shoes and tiptoed to the bedroom.”

Marc sighed, and hesitated to continue for long enough to make her afraid of what was to follow.

“I heard a noise coming from our bed that no man in love should ever hear,” he finally said with a shudder. “When I turned on the light, there was my fiancée…in the throes of naked passion and…straddling my best friend.”

Seven

Dana pressed her lips tightly together, trying to silence the cry that was forming in her throat. She knew Marc wouldn’t want her to be shocked, or disgusted, or sorry for him. But she was—damn it. She was all those things and more.

How could anyone treat a nice guy like him that way? With all the bad guys she’d met in life, why was it that the one good guy ended up being the one that got shafted?

“So did you kill them?” she muttered. “No jury on earth would’ve convicted you if you had.”

She heard him chuckle and was relieved to know she’d taken the right tack.

“No. But I have to confess that I considered it.” He put the glasses down and took a slug of old coffee. “What I did was slink away to lick my wounds. I moved out to the farm, changing scenery to get away from the memories. And I dove into my work. I kept mostly to myself, except for a few charitable fundraisers and a couple of mandatory family functions.”

He laughed out loud at his own misery. “So of course, I had to be the Danforth that Escalante chose for his frame-up. Nothing like a grand jury indictment to get a person back in the limelight…whether they want to be there or not.”

Dana figured Escalante had picked on Marc because he was squeaky clean and made a good martyr. The papers ate up that kind of thing.

But Escalante hadn’t counted on the FBI…and her.

Marc fell silent again, and she was content to quietly sit and think as the night wore on toward dawn. Dana made two definitive decisions. First, she was going to take down Escalante—personally. If she had to hound him for the rest of her life, the drug lord would never forget that he’d picked the wrong man to persecute.