"You don't think?" Jack stood and began to pace. "You don't think he's involved with the murders?"
"Jack." Riley stood to join him. "All I have to do is a bit of acting, okay? They're recording from the watch, probably to some van outside. It's a quick in and out, and it will give them somewhere else to look for criminals away from Hayes."
"We can still just authenticate the documents they say you signed against your own handwriting—"
"It's gone past that. They're not forcing or blackmailing me—I want to do this. I want to close down all the doors that link me to back then."
"Just come home to me and Hayley safe. Promise me you will get your ass straight home," Jack demanded. He was completely ignoring the third man in the room. As far as he was concerned, it was him and Riley against the world.
Agent Jones cleared his throat. "I'm going now. If you have any questions you can call me." He handed a card to Jack and one to Riley and left. All Jack wanted to do was kiss Riley, brand him, keep him hogtied to the bed. He settled for drawing him closer and just keeping it to kissing.
* * * *
The restaurant was anti-climactic. Riley didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the small man in a suit who looked more like an accountant than a master criminal. In fact, that's exactly what he turned out to be, just an accountant of sorts. He made Riley promises he had apparently made to Jeff. He didn't for one minute believe Riley was anything but who he claimed to be—someone who needed access to contracts and funds unable to go about it the legitimate route.
"I can get you forty-eight hours on everyone else for new contracts," he said with a self-satisfied grin. He leaned back in his chair, twirling a glass of port. "Jeff always came to me. I wouldn't even like to list the billions HayesOil made off of my intelligence information."
"How do you get the information?" Riley attempted to inject innocent enthusiasm into his voice and deliberately placed his hands on the table so the watch wouldn't miss a single word. Jenkins was nearly preening, and he moved forward in a posture that screamed he was going to share secrets.
"If I told you, I'd have to shoot you," he said as he smirked. Riley had never been closer to punching someone in the face than at that moment. "In all seriousness though—" He sat back and looked at Riley with an expression Riley could only describe as sly. "I had a good percentage with your brother." He shook his head slowly and raised his glass. "He'll be missed." Riley gritted his teeth and lifted his own crystal tumbler of iced water in mock salute. "It was just a shame the McAllisters got… well, you know."
Riley's stomach clenched. Was that a name he should know? Maybe he should go along with this.
"A terrible situation," he offered carefully.
"It wasn't my idea, you know," Jenkins pointed out, the fine wines and port obviously playing havoc with his ability to be discreet. "Someone higher than me ordered the hit. I must admit I was more than a little put out not to have been included in the negotiations."
"With McAllister…"
"Yes. I knew him well, told them he would have everything they needed at the estate."
"His estate?" Riley widened his eyes in mock surprise. He didn't have one iota of an idea what the fuck this accountant guy was talking about. He couldn't overplay his hand here.
"Martha's Vineyard. I went there a lot, you know, was very close to his wife—if you know what I mean." Riley wondered if, at that point, Jenkins was going to wink. When, in fact, Jenkins did wink, a bubble of hysterical amusement attempted to rise in Riley, but he pushed it down ruthlessly. "So all that time he had what they wanted, but hell if they're going to get it now he's dead."
"Hmm," Riley encouraged.
Jenkins's cell sounded for a received text, and he looked down at the flashing screen. Riley noticed a quick flash of an expression—was that fear?—and then it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when Jenkins stood. Clearly, Riley was getting the check for the dinner as suddenly Jenkins seemed very keen to leave.
"You'll be hearing from me."
Which wasn't going to be happening, as when Riley exited the restaurant some five minutes later, Jenkins was dead on the sidewalk, a bullet directly between his eyes, his brains on the wall behind. A huddle of people clustered around his body. Paramedics arrived, and Riley backed away. He had to get away from here before anyone questioned who exactly Jenkins had been with. There was no way he wanted to deal with local cops; he'd let the Feds sort this out.
In shock, he drove home, the welcome DD sign he passed under serving as a barrier for the horror of what he'd just seen. His cell rang as he climbed out of his car, and he answered the call
"We have the shooter. A new lead in the McAllister murders. Job well done," was all Agent Jones had to say.
"You knew he was going to get shot?"
"Not exactly, though we suspected someone wanted him dead, and we assumed he did as well. He knew too much, and that's probably the reason he's been in hiding. We knew the risks, but we needed to know who ordered the hits on the McAllisters, and why, and what names Jenkins might throw out to you in the conversation."
"That's fucking cold."
"We had to pull him out of hiding, and the lure of money and the Hayes name was enough."
"You used me."
"I wouldn't go that far, Riley. We had no choice. You were the only draw big enough. As I said, we have the shooter—"
"What if I had been standing next to him?"
"It was a precision shooting—"
"What the fuck—"
"Goodbye, Mr Hayes."
"Campbell-Hayes, asshole!" Riley shouted, but he realized he was talking to nothing but thin air.
He was alone inside the ranch house, and he pulled the suit off and dropped it straight into the garbage, jacket, pants, shirt and tie. He scrabbled to unhook the watch and nearly threw it onto the bedside cabinet, then thought twice in case he had depressed the button. He placed it carefully on the side, face up, making sure it was in the off position. Fucking thing.
Part of him wished he felt grief at what had happened to Jenkins, but all he felt was anger. He had been used, and it didn't help that he could have freaking died out there today. Hayley wasn't due home for a while. He'd asked Eden to pick her up from school, and she'd said she would be taking Hayley "girly shopping". Where the hell was Jack? He needed Jack. He needed a bar fight or just a fight or hard mindless sex.