Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard #10)

Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard #10) Page 10

There was already a crowd gathered inside, but the flow was good, and it was surprisingly easy to get from one side of the ballroom to the other.

Olivia hadn’t attended many of these events. When she could afford it, she donated to causes that were close to her heart, most having to do with children in need, yet she rarely went to the parties, and for that reason she knew very few people attending the celebration.

Grayson, on the other hand, was the man of the hour. He seemed to know everyone, or rather, most of the guests seemed to know him. He was immediately surrounded by friends and donors. A senator on the finance committee stopped to talk about his reelection campaign and to ask what Grayson thought about a certain stock. Olivia wasn’t sure what to do. This wasn’t exactly a date, so she didn’t think she should stay and listen to his conversations with friends. Or should she? Feeling a bit awkward, she decided to find her aunt Emma, but when she tried to step away, Grayson took hold of her hand and pulled her into his side. He wasn’t at all subtle. She gave him a disapproving frown. He responded by winking at her.

Olivia decided to be accommodating and humor him, and as it turned out, she was very happy she did. She soon lost count of the number of powerful men and women he introduced her to. She patiently stayed beside him for a good twenty minutes, smiling until her face felt frozen, and chatting amicably with the CEO of a cereal conglomerate, a Nobel Prize winner for physics, a real estate tycoon, an Internet software whiz, two art gallery owners, a couple of ambassadors, and a congresswoman. She even had a brief, though surreal, conversation with a senior adviser to the president of the United States. The topic was yoga, of all things.

The second there was a lull, Grayson suggested they go find her aunt. Then James Crowell stopped Grayson to say hello. Olivia recognized him from the cover of Time.

Crowell was Person of the Year and she believed it was a well-deserved honor. He was a genius and a self-made billionaire and, like Bill Gates and Warren Buffett, had donated most of his fortune to charity. Olivia was starstruck. Crowell was one of her heroes because of all of his humanitarian efforts. How did Grayson know him? It was obvious that Crowell liked Grayson, and from their conversation and their ease with each other, she concluded they had been friends for some time.

Just who was Agent Grayson Kincaid? The real Bruce Wayne?

Grayson watched Olivia as Crowell shook her hand and walked away.

“Your face is flushed,” he remarked.

“I admire Mr. Crowell. He’s done a lot for the poor in this country.” She turned to Grayson and said, “May I ask you a question?”

“If it will get you to quit frowning, sure.”

“I’m not frowning. This is my puzzled expression.”

“Yeah? Good to know. What’s the question?”

“You are with the FBI, aren’t you? It isn’t just a hobby, is it?”

He laughed. “Yes, I’m with the FBI, and no, it isn’t a hobby.”

“So if I were to look in your garage, I wouldn’t find a Batmobile?”

He looked at her as though he thought she was crazy. Shaking his head and looking very serious, he said, “Of course not.”

She felt foolish for making the comparison and for asking such a silly question.

Grayson put his arm around her waist and pulled her close so that an elderly couple could get past. Then he leaned down and whispered into her ear.

“I keep it in my cave.”

EIGHT

Was there anyone Grayson didn’t know?

“It’s so good to see you again, Grayson,” Aunt Emma said when they found her.

He took her hand and bent down so that she could kiss his cheek. “It’s always good to see you, Emma.”

“How is your father?”

“Doing well, thank you. He’s sorry he couldn’t be here tonight to celebrate with you, but he had another engagement he couldn’t cancel. He sends you his best wishes.”

Emma turned to Olivia. “I had no idea you knew Grayson,” she said to her niece, who was standing there with her mouth open in astonishment. Olivia gave Grayson a scolding glare for not telling her he was acquainted with her aunt, but before she could say anything, Emma continued, “You look lovely, dear.” She kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m so pleased you’re here.”

Olivia thought her aunt looked radiant. She was a petite woman, just five feet three inches, and Olivia, at five feet six inches and in stilettos, towered over her. Emma had never had any face work done, but with her genes and her bone structure had aged beautifully. She had silver hair, cut short with just a hint of curl. She wore a silver floor-length gown, the cut simple and elegant. Her crystal clear eyes never missed anything, and her smile could melt the coldest of hearts.

Another acquaintance asked for a minute with Grayson, and while he was turned away, Olivia whispered to her aunt, “Are any of the others coming tonight?”

“The family? No,” Emma answered. “They’re all in New York.”

“Have you spoken to my mother yet?”

“No, dear, I haven’t. Now go and find your seats. The ceremony is about to start. I’ve been told that there won’t be any long-winded speeches tonight, thank heavens. Three of us are receiving the Brinkley Humanitarian Award, and none of us feels we deserve it. It’s . . . humbling,” she admitted. “I tried to talk my way out of this, but the committee said this event could raise a lot of money, so here I am.” She stepped closer and whispered, “Tomorrow I expect to hear all about how you met Grayson Kincaid. I always thought you and he would make a good match, but you’re so stubborn about letting anyone interfere—”

She abruptly stopped when Grayson joined them. A few minutes later the ceremony began.

Olivia was so proud of her aunt. She was being honored for her contributions to the community, specifically for creating a medical scholarship for cancer research and for funding a new pediatric oncology ward at the children’s hospital. Olivia knew how pleased Emma’s late husband would be. When he died, Uncle Daniel left her with a large fortune, and she had put it to good use. From the response the audience gave after her considerable accomplishments were listed, it was apparent that Emma was well loved and appreciated by everyone.

As soon as the music started and couples headed to the dance floor, Olivia asked Grayson if he was ready to leave. He draped her wrap around her shoulders and followed her out of the ballroom.

Aiden Hamilton intercepted them just as they were crossing the lobby. He reminded Olivia of a model in GQ. Was everyone in Grayson’s life perfection? Impeccably dressed, Aiden looked as though the tuxedo had been invented with him in mind. He was tall and terribly fit, and he approached them with a wide smile. The greeting between the two men was a bit humorous. Grayson slapped Aiden on his shoulder, and Aiden retaliated in kind. Then they shook hands like gentlemen.

Grayson introduced Olivia to his friend, and after pleasantries were exchanged, Grayson asked him, “How long are you in town?”

“Just overnight,” he answered. “I leave for Sydney first thing in the morning.”

“Are you building another hotel?”

Aiden nodded. “Hopefully,” he said. “We built one in Melbourne and didn’t run into any problems, but we’re having trouble with permits in Sydney. It will work out,” he added. “What about you, Grayson? Still working twenty-four/seven?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“I wish we had time for a poker game,” Aiden said. “I’m sure you still have a few dollars left for me to win.”

“Your luck is bound to run out someday, Hamilton,” Grayson countered. “I’ll get my revenge.”

Aiden turned to Olivia. “Sorry to bore you with this chatter,” he apologized. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about our poker games.”

“Actually, Olivia is quite a poker player, too,” Grayson said.

Aiden looked at her admiringly. “Is that so?”

“I learned when I was a little girl,” she explained. “My friends and I loved to play. We haven’t had much opportunity lately.”

“Then perhaps the next time I’m in town, you can join us,” Aiden offered. He smiled warmly and took her hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Grayson pulled her hand away. “We were just leaving,” he said abruptly. He put his arm around Olivia’s shoulder and turned her toward the door. She nearly tripped, trying to keep up with him.

Olivia thought that Aiden Hamilton was one of the most attractive men she’d ever met. He was a real charmer who, no doubt, could have any woman he wanted, whenever he wanted, but she didn’t see a reason for Grayson to be jealous. In her mind, he was much sexier.

Once they were in the car and on their way, she asked, “Tonight . . . how did you know all those people?”

“I run into them now and then at different events, and I don’t know all of them, just some.”

But you do run in their circle, she thought. He was so at ease with the movers and shakers in D.C., and she realized, there wasn’t any question, she was completely out of his league.

“Thank you for introducing me to James Crowell. It was the highlight of the night for me.”

Grayson thought about all the people he had introduced her to, including several A-list celebrities, and yet she was most impressed by a short, skinny, balding man who, without seeking publicity or fanfare, had made a real difference in the world. The fact that she recognized what Crowell had done made Grayson like her all the more.

“The men and women who met you tonight, including James Crowell, won’t forget you because, frankly, you’re pretty unforgettable, Olivia, and if there are cutbacks and you have to leave your current job, you have a connection with all of them.”

“You were networking,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, you were networking. You just didn’t realize it.”

She didn’t know how to react. She wasn’t used to people doing nice things for her, at least not lately. “Then tonight was about helping me.”

He nodded. “And clearing up a few details about your interview with Jorguson.”

“Right, Jorguson. Our discussion could have been done over the phone, couldn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But this was more fun.”

She agreed. “Then thank you. I did have fun tonight. Meeting James Crowell was a dream come true.”

He laughed. “Yeah?”

Grayson loosened his tie as he steered the car into traffic. He didn’t say anything for several minutes and seemed perfectly relaxed. He was a real enigma, a man who was just as comfortable tackling thugs as he was socializing with the rich and powerful.

Olivia wasn’t good at small talk, and the silence was making her feel uneasy. She took a breath and blurted, “You make me nervous, but you know that, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

She expected him to ask her why he made her nervous and wondered what she would tell him, but he didn’t ask. Maybe he knew why and could explain it to her. She really had enjoyed herself tonight. It had been a long time since she had gotten all dressed up and gone out with such a handsome man. A long, long time.

She should get into the game, she thought. Then she remembered her father and what was coming, and she pushed the notion of getting involved with any man aside.

Her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.

“This is Olivia MacKenzie.”

One of her clients was on the line. “Olivia, it’s Tyler.” The voice was hushed and brimming with fear. He had said her name once, and so she put up one finger. “Everything’s fine, Olivia.” Two fingers up. “I just wanted you to know that I’m back home with my uncle and aunt, Olivia, and everything is okay.”

She heard someone speaking in the background, and then Tyler said, “They don’t want you to worry and have to look for me. You won’t, will you?”

“Now that I know you’re okay, Tyler,” she said, deliberately saying his name so he would know she understood the threat, “I won’t worry.”

“I’ve got to hang up now.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “He just went into the kitchen. There are two other men here, and they’re really mad. They say my uncle wants too much money. They have guns, Olivia. I’m so scared . . . should I hide? I’m going to hide.”

“I’m on my way.”

The line went dead. Olivia quickly found the address recorded in her phone and rattled it off to Grayson. “A little boy is in danger,” she said and then repeated what Tyler had told her. “I’m sorry, there isn’t time for you to take me home so I can get my car. Besides, I’m going to need your help. We have to get there quickly.”

“Call nine-one-one and request a squad car to meet us.”

Grayson had pulled onto the ramp and was now blazing down the expressway. He also called for backup and was patched through to his partner, Agent Ronan Conrad.

“Ronan, where are you?”

“On my way home. What do you need?”

Grayson told him where he was headed and filled him in on the situation. “I’m on my way,” Ronan answered.

“We’ll be there in five minutes,” Grayson said.

“Make it faster,” Olivia urged, her voice strained. “Five minutes might be too long.”

He pushed the accelerator. “Tell me about Tyler.”

“He’s ten years old and was removed from his uncle’s house and put in a safe house. The Purdys—the uncle and the aunt—are drug dealers, and they were using Tyler to deliver the product.”

“Which is?”

“Cocaine and meth. Mostly meth these days,” she added. “The aunt and uncle are twisted. The aunt has this thing about blood and family. Inside that sick mind of hers she believes she owns Tyler now that his parents are in prison.”

“It doesn’t sound like the kid ever had a chance,” he remarked.

“Judge Bowen was his savior. He put Tyler with a good family and severed all parental rights. The aunt and uncle were never given custody, and there’s a restraining order, but that means nothing to them.”

“Why did you hold up three fingers?”

“That’s the number of times he said my name. It’s a code the kids and I have. If he says my name once, I know he’s in trouble. The more times he says it, the more dangerous the situation. I never know who might be there with him listening or coaxing him when he’s talking to me.”