Trust Me (Last Stand #1)(62)
Author: Brenda Novak

“That’s not fair!” Skye complained. “That’s like asking one of the volunteers!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t ask one of the volunteers.”

“I was under the impression we were trying to get real dates.”

“You consider Charlie a real date?” Sheridan countered.

Charlie had arrived and was making his way over to them so Skye had to be careful not to speak too loudly. “Jonathan’s a worse cop-out than Charlie, and you know it,” she said under her breath.

Sheridan smiled brightly—for Charlie’s benefit. “I don’t think so. Sleeping with Jonathan would be like sleeping with my brother, but I’d still go to bed with him before Charlie.”

Skye had no chance to respond. Charlie was too close. Sheridan said hello to him and moved on. Skye stayed where she was, making small talk while scanning the room for Jonathan. She wanted to ask if he’d found anything more on the Regan case—she felt terrible about Sean—but she didn’t see the private investigator anywhere. He was probably standing out in the hall, talking on his cell phone. A bona fide workaholic, he was always on one phone or another.

“Who are you looking for?” Charlie asked when he had to repeat his question about how her work was going. He hadn’t mentioned last night’s incident, and hard as it was to believe, Skye was pretty sure he hadn’t heard.

“Sheridan’s date.”

“Who’d she bring?”

“Jonathan Stivers.”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

“They’re friends. He sometimes works as our private investigator.”

“I didn’t know she was seeing anyone.”

“They’re not seeing each other. Not really.” Jonathan was an old flame of Sheridan’s, which would’ve made Sheridan’s choice of escort much more interesting, except that Skye knew the flicker of romantic interest had guttered out more than two years ago.

“Time to live a more balanced life, huh?” she mumbled sarcastically.

“What’d you say?” Charlie asked.

“Nothing.” Taking a deep breath, she threw back her shoulders and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. It didn’t matter whether or not Sheridan had gotten a real date, she told herself. She’d invited Charlie for a reason, and it certainly wasn’t to get laid—no matter how long it had been. “We need to go over and say hello to Senator Denatorre.”

“We do?”

Skye paused, surprised by his lackluster response. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“I’m a Democrat,” he said. “I hate Denatorre.”

“Don’t worry about it. This is a bipartisan event.”

“My ex-wife is a Republican.”

Oh, boy…more scarring. “Don’t mention your ex-wife to the senator,” she said and dragged him over.

The senator and his wife were busy conversing with a small crowd. Skye was standing politely nearby, waiting for a chance to introduce herself, when Bob Gibbons, an aide she’d met at a press conference after the Ubaldi case, noticed her. Taking her elbow, Bob guided her into the circle.

“Senator, this is Skye Kellerman. She’s one of the founders of The Last Stand, and possibly their most ardent devotee.”

The senator looked as distinguished as a senator should. With dark hair combed back from his forehead, intelligent eyes and perfect teeth, he was a handsome man in his midfifties. “It’d be tough to be any more devoted than her associates,” he joked, but he extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kellerman.”

“The pleasure is mine,” she responded. Then he introduced her to his wife.

Perfectly trim and stylishly dressed in a black gown with white cuffs and collar, Roxanne Denatorre gripped Skye’s hand as soon as her husband released it. “And who’s your companion, Ms. Kellerman?” she asked.

Charlie was standing slightly behind Skye, looking like he’d rather be home. “This is my friend and escort for the evening, Charlie Fox.”

“Charlie, you’re a lucky man to be in the company of such a lovely woman,” Mrs. Denatorre said.

Charlie’s eyebrows went up as if he hadn’t noticed. “Oh…um, yes. Yes, I am.” He shook hands with everyone in the group, then slumped back into his depression. But at least he wasn’t spouting off about his ex-wife—or Republicans.

“It’s wonderful that you could come this evening,” Skye said to Senator Denatorre.

“I admire what you’re doing, Ms. Kellerman.” He studied her a bit more closely. “But I have to say I’m amazed you’re here. I wasn’t expecting it after your most recent brush with danger.”

The fear, the shooting, the dead body rushed through Skye’s mind. It was still so fresh. “The loss of a life is always unfortunate,” she murmured, struggling to distance herself emotionally.

“Better his life than yours,” he responded.

“I can’t argue with you there.”

“But…”

She blinked. “But what?”

“I sensed a bit of hesitancy in that statement.”

This wasn’t a good conversation to be having in a social setting, but Skye couldn’t resist the invitation to open up. She’d never been one to waste time with meaningless platitudes. If the senator wanted to talk shop, she’d talk shop. She might never get another audience with him. It wasn’t as if he attended all their fund-raisers—or even returned her calls to his office. “I was just thinking that it’d be easier to deal with what happened if I knew why Mr. Bishop came after me in the first place.”

“The police can’t tell you?”

“So far, no one can.”

His eyes met and held hers. “You’re in a dangerous line of work, Ms. Kellerman.”

She managed a shrug. “It goes with the territory.”

“Does that ever make you want to give up?”

“Randy,” his wife admonished quietly, but he merely patted the hand that clasped his arm and waited for Skye’s response.

“No,” she told him. “It makes me more determined.”

“Some folks fear you as much as they admire you,” he said. “They view you as a maverick, a vigilante.”

Mrs. Denatorre didn’t object again. That tap the senator had given her hand had begged a little leeway, and she was granting it. Besides that, she was obviously curious to hear Skye’s answer. So was the rest of the group, judging by the way they watched her.