Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle by Pauline Jones (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

lead back to the PAC. Elspeth Carter goes to a PAC meeting. She dies, presumably because she found the papers then and hid them. Paul Mitchell dies by the same gun. He’s the supply officer for a supply depot missing some important armament. Howard kills him and is killed. Then we find evidence linking him to a terrorist group. Obvious conclusion, terrorists are planning a raid on the embassies highlighted in the papers. Right?”

“Right.”

“Except Willis isn’t worried that we know this. So I dig a little deeper and I find out that Mitchell was also a member of PT-PAC.”

I nodded, remembering my conversation with the lady at the booth. “Don’t tell me the round-headed man was a member, too?”

Kel shook his head. “Not a member. But a contributor. A substantial contributor. As was Willis.”

“How substantial are we talking about?”

“Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

“How did they pay that kind of money to the PAC? And why would they—if they had that kind of money?”

“Yeah, I’d like the answers to those questions, too. They sure weren’t interested in education reform.” He looked at me soberly. “Three years ago PT-PAC was about to disband because of a lack of funds. Flynn Kenyon came on board and suddenly they’re raking in the cash. But they still don’t have any clout. You ever hear of a PAC with money but no politicians?”

“No, but—”

“What?”

“Flynn Kenyon as bad guy? There’s no way on this earth—”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?”

“Where Elspeth Carter hid those papers? She felt threatened at Kenyon’s. She hid them there. Now I checked the attendance for that meeting. Neither Willis nor Howard was there. Flynn Kenyon was.”

I stared at him. “He’s a grandfather.”

Kel pulled his long legs clear of the table and sat forward, his elbows propped on his knees, his eyes worried for me. “I’m sorry this is hitting close to home for you.”

“It’s not just that. Why would a guy who’s worried about education blow up embassies?”

He rubbed his face. “I don’t know.” His eyes looked tired, his face drawn and stroked with gray.

“Now if it was the capital—” I said, lightly, hoping to distract him. It couldn’t be easy knowing lives were resting on his ability to see which shell was hiding which pea.

“The capital? Why?” he asked, absently.

“What, doesn’t the CIA know PT-PAC’s current reform effort?” I shook my head in mock reproof. “You obviously don’t know the right people to talk to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’ve jumped on the term limitation bandwagon. I signed the petition myself at the convention on Friday.”

Kel grinned, his whole face lightening. “I guess the Democrats would consider that a form of terrorism, but—” He stopped, an arrested expression on his face.

“I was joking,” I protested. He ignored me.

“If I could only see how? That’s got to be the key.” He stared into the distance for a moment. “Term limitation. What an intriguing concept,” he murmured. “There are a lot of ways to limit terms, but the quickest way is—”

“You’re not seriously considering—no way.”

“It’s my job to consider possibilities.”

“Everyone wants to get rid of Congress, but, they’re like zits. They only go away if they want to. It’s democracy not working. Nobody plots to blow them up.”

“Tuesday night is the State of the Union address. They’ll all be together in one place at one time.”

“But surely people have thought of that? Taken a few precautions? A few Patriot missiles lying around?”

“What if there’s something we haven’t thought of? Willis was pretty confident.”

I felt this tiny bell go off in my head, the one that warns me I’m forgetting something. Unfortunately, all it does is warn me. It doesn’t tell me what I’m forgetting.

“I shouldn’t have worried you with this.” Kel, looking regretful, stood up. “But I needed to pick your brain. You’re the one who’s been hanging out with the bad boys.”

I smiled. Etta Place I was not. “You leaving?”

“I’ve got to follow up the leads you gave me.”

“You’re going after the Kenyons, aren’t you?” I asked, more to hold him here, than to know. I wanted time to look my fill at the spy who was leaving me.

“Just going to sniff around a bit. Don’t want to spook them.” Maybe he saw the regret and longing in my eyes because he sighed. He cupped my face with his hands. “I have to go, Bel.”

“I know. You have to save Congress…I suppose you do have to save them? I mean, they didn’t vote for your raise.”

It was a feeble joke, but I needed to lighten an atmosphere that was starting to simmer. I swallowed, then licked my lips. He followed the movement intently, a fire starting in his eyes. I don’t know who moved first. All that mattered was my mouth and his were together at last. The coffee table kept our bodies apart, but not our passion.

He was chocolate and cream. He was everything nice. Not a hint of puppy dog tails or snails…

He tried to step over the coffee table, slipped on the magazines I’d dumped off and tumbled us both onto the sofa, then we slid to the floor. Space was tight, which suited me. We had to stay together to fit. It was hard on elbows as our hands explored each other, but what are elbows in the face of passion?

It was easier for him to breach my robe’s boundaries, but I was on the bottom and had more elbow room, so we got to the good stuff at almost the same time. I wanted to sink into this vortex of passion, but there was something poking into my back.

“Could we…there’s something in my back,” I muttered into his ear. “No. Don’t stop…just—”

He rolled sideways and the coffee table shrieked across the floor, sending a small shower of papers down on us. But the pain in my back was gone, leaving only the ache for him.

“How’s that?”

I rolled on top and gazed down into dimple and blue eyes.

“Perfect. It’s perfect.”

I bent my head, wanting only to feel his mouth on mine