A Conflict of Interest. Barbara DunlopЧитать онлайн книгу.
“That’s two questions,” said Ariella.
“Is she upstairs? She let you leave?”
“I’m a grown woman, Max.”
“And you’re the president’s daughter.”
“Not until they prove it, I’m not.”
A new thought occurred to Max. And, if he was right, it wasn’t a half bad idea. “Are you going into hiding?”
Her silence confirmed his suspicions.
“I can help. I can take you somewhere safe.”
This time she rolled her eyes. “It won’t be hiding if an NCN reporter knows where I am. You’re already going to report this entire conversation.”
Max was used to walking fine ethical lines. He couldn’t lie to his network, but he could choose the facts he shared and the order in which he disclosed them. “It’s up to me to decide how to frame my story.”
Her expression was blatantly suspicious. “What does that mean?”
“What do you want me to report?”
She hesitated, then seemed to decide she had little to lose. “That I have no knowledge of my biological parents, and I’ve left the D.C. area.”
“Done.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Yes,” he told her with sincerity.
But her guard was obviously still up. “Are you serious?”
“I am serious.”
After a moment, her expression softened. “Thank you, Max.”
“At least let me take you to Potomac Airfield. You’ll be able to grab a private charter and take it anywhere you want to go. If you need money—”
“I don’t need money.”
“If you need anything, Ariella.”
“How can you take me to Potomac and not report on it?”
He put on his best broadcaster voice. “Sources close to Ariella Winthrop disclose that she has left the D.C. area, likely on a private plane out of Potomac. Nothing is known about the destination, the aircraft or the pilot.”
He gave another glance around the dark street to make sure they were still alone. “You can put up your hair, Ariella. We’ll stop somewhere and buy you a pair of blue jeans, a baseball cap and dark glasses. Take a Learjet or something even better. Those guys don’t talk about their passengers.”
He could feel her hesitation. Her teeth came down on her lower lip.
“You got a better idea?” he asked.
“What’s in it for you?”
“Goodwill. Yours, eventually the White House’s and the president’s. Plus, I’m a nice guy.”
“You’re with the press.”
“I’m still a nice guy. And I’m a sucker for a maiden in distress.”
That brought a reluctant smile to her lips.
“My car’s across the street.” He nodded to the Mustang. “Every minute we stand out here, we risk someone recognizing you.”
Just then, a taxi pulled up and stopped at the curb, its light on.
Ariella glanced at it. But then she nodded to Max. “Take me to Potomac Airfield.”
“Two things,” Lynn said to Cara from behind her office desk.
It was ten the next morning, and Lynn had just finished addressing reporters in the press room for a second day in a row. So far, President Morrow had remained out of sight, his schedule restricted to small, private functions where the White House could control the guest list. But Cara knew that was about to change. He was scheduled to attend a performance tonight at the Kennedy Center.
“Eleanor Albert is an obvious priority.” Lynn counted her points off on her fingers. “Who is she? Where is she? Is she really Ariella’s mother? And what will she say publicly about the president? Two, there’s a whole town full of people out in Fields, Montana. We need to know what they know, what they remember and what they’re going to say publicly.”
Then she glanced up, her attention going to someone in the doorway behind Cara.
“There you are,” she said, waving her hand for the person to enter. “You might as well come on in.”
Cara turned, starting in astonishment as she came face-to-face with Max. He was dressed in blue jeans and square-toed boots, with an open-collar white shirt beneath his dark blazer. He was freshly shaved. His perpetually tousled hair, wide shoulders and rugged looks gave him a mantle of raw power, even though he was just a visitor to the West Wing.
He met her gaze, his expression neutral.
Even with Lynn in the room, Cara had a hard time controlling her annoyance. Max had gone on national television last night, disclosing what he knew about Ariella’s whereabouts. She didn’t know who his source had been, but he’d milked it for all it was worth, tossing both Ariella and the White House to the wolves in his quest for ratings.
“Have a seat.” Lynn pointed to the chair next to Cara’s. The two chairs were matching brown leather, low backed but rounded and comfortable, with carved mahogany arms.
Max moved guardedly, but he did as Lynn asked.
“Who’s your source?” Lynn shot out without preamble.
“Seriously?” asked Max with an arch of one brow, a carefully placed thread of amazement in his tone.
“How did you learn about Ariella?”
Cara was curious as well. Even she hadn’t known Ariella was headed for Potomac Airfield. She couldn’t imagine who had found out, or why they would tell Max of all people.
“You know perfectly well that I can’t disclose my sources,” Max said to Lynn, but he cast a glance Cara’s way, as well.
“You can when it’s a matter of security,” Lynn countered. “This might even be national security.”
Max sat back in his chair, “Really? Go on.”
“If she’s kidnapped,” said Lynn, twisting her ring. “If a foreign entity, or heaven help us all, a terrorist, gets their hands on the president’s daughter, it will absolutely be a situation of national security.”
“You don’t know that she’s his daughter.”
“Do you think the terrorists care? I was convinced by those pictures. And I’m pretty sure the rest of the nation was convinced by them, too. Do you think the president will take the chance that’s she’s not?”
Max’s body became alert. “So, you’re saying the president slept with Eleanor Albert.”
Lynn’s face paled a shade. “I’m saying nothing of the kind.”
But Max pounced on her small misstep. “If he hadn’t slept with her, this couldn’t possibly be a matter of national security.”
For a moment, Lynn was speechless.
Cara stepped in. “Who told you Ariella was going to Potomac Airfield?”
Max twisted his head to look at her. His eyes were cool, his expression a perfect, professional mask.
Cara pressed him. “Come on, Max. You don’t want Ariella hurt any more than we do. She’s innocent in all this. She needs Secret Service protection.”
“No kidding,” said Max. “And did you tell her that last night?”
Cara blinked, her insides clenching