The Secret Brokers (31 page)

Nia frowned, slightly. “Perhaps there is something I can help you with. The gallery manager is out at the moment but I am—”

“I’m looking for your other boss,” he interrupted. “The one who lives upstairs in the penthouse.”

Nia glanced nervously around the gallery. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Caston—”

“Is dead. I know that, Nia,” he interjected. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his business card. “I’m looking for the one who took over for Mr. Caston.” He handed her the plain, white card. “Give him this. He’ll want to see me.”

Nia took the card and read it. She then looked up at Dallas. Her eyes were instantly cool and businesslike. “Of course, Mr. August. Please wait here.”

The beautiful Nia glided across the gallery floor and went through an unmarked door. Dallas strolled about the gallery and casually took in a few pieces of art hanging on the walls. There were large oil paintings of the New York skyline intermixed with smaller pieces of important historic buildings scattered throughout the city. Further along the wall he found some abrasive watercolors of nude men in a variety of compromising positions. The banner above the works read simply, “Winston.”

Dallas lingered about the first floor of the gallery, looking down at his stainless steel watch once or twice, and wondering what was taking so long. He reasoned whoever had taken over Greg Caston’s organization had to know who he was, and probably had already figured out why he was here.

Nia suddenly reappeared on the gallery floor and walked over to Dallas, smiling.

“If you would come this way, Mr. August.” She motioned to a door marked
‘
private
’
.

Behind the door, Dallas discovered a narrow hallway with an armed security guard standing behind a semi-circular desk that was piled high with an assortment of television monitors.

Nia stood by as the burley security guard came around the desk and began to pat Dallas down. Once he was done, he nodded to Nia.

“If you take the elevator at the end of the hall.” Nia waved to a pair of silver doors at the end of the narrow hallway. “They will take you to the penthouse.”

“And who is waiting in the penthouse for me?” he asked, staring into the woman’s dark eyes.

“The person you came to see,” she softly replied and turned away.

Dallas watched as Nia headed back into the gallery. He looked over at the security guard who was watching something intently on his monitor, and then turned down the hallway.

Inside the elevator he hit the “P” button on the console and the car doors closed. As Dallas rode the elevator to the penthouse apartment, he tried to picture his counterpart. He knew Greg Caston would never have trusted just anyone with his organization. Like Simon La Roy, the man had been a ruthless and manipulative bastard who had prided himself on being able to extract secrets from the rich and powerful. Greg Caston would have made sure that whoever succeeded him would have been just as cunning, and just as dangerous, as he had always been.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a spacious loft apartment with a wall of windows that opened on to the distant Hudson River. The red-bricked walls had been left bare, but new hardwood floors had been installed adding to the contemporary feel of the apartment. To the right was an open kitchen with gray granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. To the left there was a living room filled with tan Italian leather furniture and a complex entertainment center with two wide screen televisions. Thick wooden stairs with shiny iron railings stood directly in front of him. The stairs led upward to an open loft bedroom with a wide king-sized bed.

“It looks exactly the same as his place in New Orleans,” Dallas mumbled as he stepped into the apartment.

“Greg designed all of his homes to look the same,” a woman’s voice stated to his right.

Dallas turned to see Gwen, or Rennie as she had been called, standing beside him. She was dressed in black pants, a red silk shirt, and high-heeled black pumps. Her hair had been neatly coifed and hung seductively about her shoulders. She wore a touch of make up on her face, highlighting her delicate features. She appeared confident, classy, and not at all like the Gwen he remembered.

She rubbed her finger nervously along her pale brow. “So I guess we have things to discuss.”

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Dallas shouted.

“You asked to see the guy in charge.” She waved her hand down her figure. “That would be me.”

“You?” He laughed. “Caston left his organization to you?”

She nodded. “I run the galleries and the organization. But technically he left his entire empire to his son, Joshua.” She turned away and walked deeper into the apartment. “I was his right hand for almost three years, just like you were Simon’s after David died—or at least after we thought he had died.”

“And how did you get involved with Caston?”

“I got the idea of joining up with Greg from you.”

He gawked at her. “Me? What did I have to do with it?”

“You don’t remember our meeting ten years ago at Quantico?”

Dallas ran his hands over his face. “You worked for the Bureau,” he muttered.

“I was going to go to medical school after finishing my biology degree, but I didn’t want my father’s life as a physician, so I joined up. We first met at the training facility in Virginia, but I was told at the time that you were too into your partner, Carol Wilbur, to notice anyone else. A few weeks after that, Carol was killed in a car accident and I heard you had resigned. I learned later about your teaming up with Simon La Roy. That was when I contacted Greg and offered my services.”

“What else have you been keeping from me? Is your name really Rennie Davis, or is there something else I should be calling you?” He followed her into the apartment.

“My real name is Rennie Davis.”

“And what kind of name is Rennie?” He began unbuttoning his long, black coat.

“It is a nick name for Lauren. I gave it to myself when I was a kid back in Texas. I detest the name Lauren.”

Dallas tossed his coat on to the leather couch to his right. “Good. I’ll make sure I call you Lauren from now on.”

“Still pissed because I got the safety deposit box key out of Gwen before you, or because I fooled you into believing I was her?”

Dallas walked up to her and let his eyes linger on her slender face. “You didn’t fool me,” he whispered. “I knew something was up from moment we met.” He stepped from her side and headed toward the kitchen. “Your inability to cook, your sudden urge for meat, the Glock, the way you tossed me about your kitchen, and of course, shooting Brewster. All of your little quirks gave me some indication that you were not who you said you were.”

Rennie turned and watched him march into the kitchen and open the freezer.

“What are you doing?” she called out.

Dallas eyed the stacks of frozen dinners filling the freezer. “Just checking,” he said to her. He moved back into the living room. “So what else did you lie about?” He lifted his left index finger to her. “What about this? Where did you learn to sew a guy up?”

“My father taught me. He was a country doctor and I was always prone to accidents growing up on a farm.”

“And the scar on your wrist?” He pointed to the red scar poking out from beneath her sleeve. “You didn’t get that by catching your arm on a nail, did you?”

“You were right. It was a knife wound from a fight I got into a few months back on assignment.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, observing him. “So why are you here, Dallas? If you had me figured out, and Gwen told you about me, then why come here? What else do you need to know?”

He leaned in closer to her
.
“I want to know…why me?” he growled.

Rennie took a step back from him, shaking her head. “I didn’t hire you, Carl Bordonaro did. Shouldn’t you be asking him that question?”

“Why did you sleep with me when you knew I had what I needed? I was leaving in the morning and we could have walked away without the added complication of that night. Why do it, Lauren?”

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that up,” she mocked. “What I did is nothing you haven’t done many times before with your other targets, Dallas. You and I both know sex is merely a tool for obtaining secrets.”

“But I had my secret; I didn’t need anything else from you,” he grumbled, grabbing her arm.

“Maybe I wanted you, Dallas. To have just one night with you,” she whispered.

He let go of her arm, pushing her away. “You’re a real piece of work.”

Rennie grinned into his face. “I’m you, Dallas. In high heels and with blond hair, but I am you.” She shook her head as she took a step away from him. “Greg told me about you, once. He said he admired your ability to get any secret out of any target. He thought you were the best in the business.”

“Deceiving people is nothing to be admired for,” Dallas argued in a husky voice.

“Isn’t it? It all depends on one’s perspective, Dallas. Secrets are a commodity that will never lose their value. The world runs on them, men build empires with them, they can topple governments, and can even turn a Hollywood hopeful into a star. What we do may not be right or popular, but it is necessary.” She paused and stared into his frigid eyes. “We are the secret brokers, you and I. And leopards with the same spots should always stick together.”

Dallas studied her face. “What are you suggesting?”

“Joining forces.”

He laughed. “You and me? You must be joking.” He laughed even louder.

“Why not?” She frowned, looking like a little girl.

Her sudden change in demeanor unnerved Dallas. He felt his resolve fading and quickly turned away from her. “Because we run competing businesses, Lauren, that’s why,” he added over his shoulder.

“Simon La Roy and Greg Caston ran competing businesses
—
not us,” she insisted behind him.

“They hated each other,” Dallas countered, raising his voice.

“But we don’t.”

Dallas snickered, turning to her. “Don’t be so sure of that, Lauren.”

She shook her head, appearing aggravated. “You really need to stop calling me Lauren.”

He grinned with amusement. “Lauren suits you.”

Rennie leaned in closer to his body and placed her hand on the lapel of his black suit jacket. “And what would it take to get you to stop calling me Lauren?”

Dallas lowered his head to her. “I’ll keep that a secret for the time being,” he whispered to her.

Unable to resist, he leaned forward and kissed her. Rennie eagerly reached her arms about his neck and arched her body into his. Then without warning, he pushed her away.

“Why stop?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Why go on? It can’t go anywhere between us.”

“Why does it need to go anywhere?”

Dallas walked over to the couch and picked up his long, black coat. “You’re not a target anymore, Lauren.”

She ran her hand through her silky hair as her brow furrowed. “Does that matter? You don’t want a relationship any more than I do. Safer this way, for both of us.”

Dallas headed to the elevator. “Safer for you, perhaps, but not for me,” he reasoned over his shoulder.

He pressed the call button and the silver doors parted before him.

“And what about my offer to join forces?”

Dallas turned around in the elevator and stared back at her. “I’ll be in touch.”

Rennie folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll be waiting,” she declared right before the elevator doors closed.

As the elevator made its way down to the first floor, Dallas August grinned. It seemed there was more to Rennie Davis than he had ever imagined.

When Dallas walked out of the building, his cell phone began ringing. He checked the caller ID and quickly answered the call.

“David?” he said into his cell phone.

“Well, you’re never going to guess what happened, Dallas. We got our special delivery a few weeks early.”

Dallas headed for the black Town Car waiting for him at the curb. “What’s wrong, David?” he anxiously asked.

David laughed. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m a daddy!”

The allure of spring was in the air as Dallas walked in the front doors of the St Charles Avenue Presbyterian Church. He eyed the French Gothic interior with its travertine textured walls and dark English oak finishes. He admired the abstract stained glass windows above that illustrated stories from the
Bible
, and the leaves, diamonds, and crosses that were incorporated throughout the churches interior. A small crowd was gathered around a baptismal fountain to the right of the sanctuary, and as he drew near he heard the muffled cries of a baby.

Then he spotted her off to the side, holding the child. She was wearing a simple, green sheath dress that clung to her slim figure and highlighted her long, auburn hair. She had an oval face, with creamy skin, high cheekbones, and a mouth that always reminded him of a pink summer rose. When Nicci saw Dallas staring at her from the middle of the church, she smiled.