Eternally Yours - Brenda Jackson [73]
“It’s me,” she whispered to the person who had picked up the phone. “What have you found out?”
She frowned. “What do you mean you haven’t found out anything? It’s been almost three weeks,” she said angrily, her voice rising a little. “There has to be a connection. I saw the look on the senator’s face every time he looked at her. Trust me, he knows Syneda Walters from somewhere, and I want you to find out where. I need to have—”
Celeste stopped talking when she heard noise behind her. She turned around. Braxter was standing in the bathroom doorway, his eyes a fuming dark as they locked with hers. There was no doubt in her mind that he had overheard her conversation. She quickly hung up the phone.
“Braxter, sweetheart, don’t look at me that way.”
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” he demanded in a loud voice. “And why is Syneda Walters of interest to you?”
Celeste backed up a little when he came toward her. His hand tightened on her arm when she didn’t answer him. “I asked you a question, Celeste.”
Celeste could feel his anger. “Let go of me, Braxter. I don’t have to tell you anything that I don’t want to.”
Braxter’s eyes blazed. “Who the hell are you and just what is your game, lady?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, and I said let me go, or so help me, I’ll scream so loud all of the occupants of this apartment building will hear me. I can just see tomorrow’s headlines—‘Senator Lansing’s Top Aide Arrested for Manhandling a Woman in His Apartment.”’
When Braxter released her arm, she turned her face up to him and smiled. “I thought you’d see it my way. You’re always mindful of shielding the senator from any negative publicity.”
She walked around him and began getting dressed. “It was fun while it lasted, Braxter.”
“Who are you working for?”
Celeste heard the pain in his voice and ignored it. “I work for no one.”
Braxter walked over to the dresser and grabbed her purse, emptying the contents in the middle of his bed.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
Braxter said nothing as he picked up her small appointment book and thumbed through it. He didn’t see anything unusual, just little notations about what he assumed to be job-related appointments.
Then he flipped through her driver’s license and charge cards, which indicated the name she had given him was her real name. He threw them aside and picked up her checkbook and began flipping through it. His eyes widened at the large amount she had deposited in her personal account a few months ago. It was exactly two days before they had met. He turned around and his eyes met hers.
Celeste trembled. He didn’t say anything, but if looks could kill she would be on her way to the morgue. She hesitantly walked over to him and snatched her purse from his hands, placing the contents back inside. She knew she had pushed him to his limit and the best thing to do was to get out of there.
She walked to the door, then stopped before opening it. She slowly turned around and they stared at each other. She saw the pained and angered look on his face and a part of her almost shattered. For the first time, she felt her conscience pricking her. She actually regretted hurting him.
“It was nothing personal, Braxter. You’re an all right guy,” she said softly.
She turned and quickly hurried out of the apartment.
A physically and emotionally exhausted Clayton Madaris entered his office where he had come straight from the airport. He wasn’t ready to go home just yet.
Sitting behind the big oak desk, he leaned his head against the back of the chair and stared into private space. He was in deep thought as he replayed the scene with Syneda over and over again in his mind.
Moments later he checked his watch for the time. He needed to call Alexander Maxwell. Alex was the brother of his best friend, Trask Maxwell. His and Trask’s friendship went all the way back to touch football when they were kids growing up in the same neighborhood. Trask had gone on to become the greatest running back in the