Page 137 of Smoke Screen
The door came open and one of the Secret Service agents poked his head in.
“We’re fine,” President Thompson said. “Thank you.”
The agent retreated and closed the door. Maddy pointed at Three. “Did you steal my keys and copy them?”
The whites of his eyes became dinner plates. “I … uh …” He faced his father. “Dad?”
Oh, puh-lease.Daddy couldn’t help him this time. “Hey,” Maddy said, her voice sharp. “Don’t look at him.”
Junior swiveled his chair to face her. “How dare you speak to my son that way?”
How dare she? Seriously? When she was the one being accused? When she was the one sitting through FBI interrogations and having her home violated by strange men who could have walked in on her and done all sorts of horrible things?
How dareshe?
White-hot rage spewed like acid from her brain, eating away at her, tearing up her insides.
Speaking of the FBI. Anticipating needing to make a call, she dug her phone from her pocket.
Answers. She needed answers.
And she’d get them.
“How dareyou!” She jabbed a finger at Louis Junior. “How darehe? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” Not expecting an answer, she turned to Three. “There’s a rumor out there that you’re behind this theft. That you hired people—the Vera brothers—to steal from your uncle. Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m about to call the FBI.”
“Maddy, please.”
This from President Thompson, who sat back in his seat, one arm on the armrest like this was a normal day at the office. Maybe for a former president it was.
“Maddy.”
She spun back. Phin now stood two feet from her, his brothers behind him, lined up against the interior wall, looking like soldiers holding the fort. The two Secret Service agents had also joined them, both of them moving behind Maddy to flank President Thompson.
“No, Phin,” Maddy said. “I’m done.” She turned back to President Thompson. “Please what? Please allow myself to go down for something I didn’t do? To save you the humiliation? What aboutmyhumiliation?” She slammed her hand against her chest, her fingers smacking the bare skin above her V-neck shirt. “My professional reputation? Frankly, I deserve better. So Louis, start talking or I’m calling the FBI.”
The kid’s head whipped back and forth and he turned to his father again. “Dad! Please.”
“Relax, son. There’s nothing she can do.”
Dream on, pal. “Oh,” she scoffed, “there’splentyI can do.” She pretended to dial because, really, she’d have to Google the number for the FBI, but they didn’t know that. It wasn’t as if she had Ash Blackwell in her contacts.
She brought the phone to her ear, feigned listening for the ring on the opposite end, then held her finger up. “Special Agent Blackwell, please,” she said into the phone.
Louis Junior, his face twisting, leaped from his chair, sending it careening backward, crashing against the wall beside Maddy.
He whirled on her. “Hang up. Right now.”
Fast on his feet, Phin slid in front of Maddy, pointing at Louis. “Sit down.”
When Phin’s brothers stepped up next to her, forming her own little cocoon, Maddy went on tiptoes, peering over Phin’s shoulder to where he and Louis were in the middle of one heck of a staredown.
Eventually, Louis’s gaze shot left and right to the men at Phin’s sides. Way overmatched, he’d apparently regained his good sense, reclaimed his chair, and took his seat again.
President Thompson sat forward, pulling closer to the table. “Everyone, take a breath.”
“It wasn’t me,” Louis Three blurted. “I swear. It wasn’t me.”
Maddy put her hands out and pushed, squeezing between Phin and Cruz, leaving her behind Louis Junior’s chair. “Then why did you steal my keys?”
