Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [100]
The line was slowly moving forward. They had at least ten people in front of them. Enough time to pick her brain.
“So, you said you’ve been here before. What brought you back?” Nancy asked.
Should he tell her the truth, or at least a version of the truth? Or should he make up a fantastic story to impress her. Normally, the women he dated were impressed simply by his profession. Somehow, he didn’t think his title would impress her. He would tell her the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. A pumped-up version of the truth.
“Actually, I’m not here on vacation. I’m the chief of the Miami district of the Drug Enforcement Administration, the DEA, though strangely enough, I am usually located in LA. I’m here . . . well, let’s just say I’m here on official DEA business.”
Nancy looked as though she’d been hit by a truck.
“Wow, a real live officer of the law. I must say that’s the last . . . well, I thought you looked like the accountant type, or maybe an attorney. I just . . . well, I feel very safe standing here with you.” She shot him a toothy grin as wide as the sunset.
For the first time in his almost forty-one years, Lawrence Tyler knew what smitten truly meant. “Thank you, I think.”
They both laughed. The line continued to move. Tyler wished it would slow down. He was liking every minute standing here with a woman who really seemed to be what she was. Good, clean, and wholesome.
“Lawrence, would it be too brazen of me to ask if you’re related to Governor Tyler?”
His night was ruined. No, he wasn’t going to let the mere mention of his father ruin the rest of the evening. “Actually, he’s my father, but don’t tell anyone you heard it from me.”
“Wow, you’re really something. I can’t wait to tell my students I met the son of Florida’s governor. And he’s a bona fide DEA agent. I’m sure this will be the talk of the cafeteria once the cat is out of the bag. I’m a little bit impressed, I must say.”
Tyler didn’t notice the short, stocky, seventy-year-old man who had come up behind him until he felt the pressure of cold metal jammed into his back.
“Lawrence Tyler, I can’t believe it’s you! What in the world are you doing out this late? I thought little boys were supposed to be at home in bed.”
Carlton Staggers! What the fuck?
Tyler swiveled his head around. “I think I should ask you what you’re doing here? I’m here on official business.”
Staggers wedged the barrel of the gun deeper into Tyler’s lower back. “So am I. I’m here to take you home, Lawrence. Your father’s been taken to the hospital. You’ll need to come with me right away.”
Tyler’s heart was pounding so hard he thought his chest would explode. He no more believed his father was in the hospital than he himself was. If that were the case, it would be plastered all over the news. And there were plenty of television sets hanging around in the bars in Key West.
“What do you want?” he asked his godfather between gritted teeth. He hated this man more than anything or anyone in the world.
Staggers had the decency to whisper in his ear. “Aren’t you supposed to meet that blackmailer tonight?”
It was then that Tyler finally remembered where he’d heard the blackmailer’s voice.
He’d been hearing it his entire life.
Carlton Staggers, godfather and lifelong friend of the family.
“I think you’d better come with me.”
So as not to create a scene, as much as he hated to desert her, he knew he must. And it was important that he not give her any indication of who he was walking away with. “Nancy, I’m sorry, but my father is ill. Here.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Get yourself an ice cream. I’ll be in touch.”
Nancy looked stunned. She just nodded.
Staggers dug the gun deeper into the tender spot at the base of Tyler’s spine. “I’ll call you,” he shouted to Nancy, as Staggers forced him out of the line and toward the street and the spot where he’d parked the Mustang.
And