"How long ago was it?" he asked.

"Years and years. I've mostly avoided men until now." She glanced at him. "Don't worry, I'm not fixated on you," she added when she saw his expression. "I'm not going to dive off the roof or anything when you leave. I hope I didn't shock you. It's always best to be honest," she said, and felt a twinge of guilt because she hadn't been. But he was hardly likely to ever find that out.

"Yes, it is best to be honest," he said with involuntary anger as he studied her. "But most people don't know how to tell the truth." He averted his angry eyes from her flushed face and looked around the room. "Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks again for taking care of me, Kane. I won't forget you."

"I won't forget you, either. Get well, Nikki," he said pleasantly. "I'm glad I met you."

"The same goes for me. Goodbye, Kane."

He searched her face as if he wanted to memorize it. Then he smiled mockingly, and left. Nikki stared after him for a long time. She knew she'd done the right thing, especially for Clayton, but it didn't feel n.o.ble. It hurt. So did Kane's very cold att.i.tude toward her. He didn't know who she was; it couldn't be that. Perhaps it was just that he didn't want to feel anything for her beyond physical attraction. Whatever his reasoning, he'd just killed any possibility of a future for them.

She lifted the receiver on the telephone by the sofa and dialed Clayton's number. It would be good to get back to Charleston, she told herself. And she could hardly stay here in her present condition.

Chapter Nine.

Senator Mosby Torrance's aide John Haralson drove out to Pirate's Marsh the following day in his gray BMW. He was at the tail end of a convoy that combined local media with a team of EPA investigators, Cortez, and a shocked public health official.

"This marsh is practically in the Edisto River," the public health official gasped. "What is that?" he persisted as the investigators got the barrel out of the marsh and began to inspect it.

"Paint solvent," one said curtly, rubbing his gloved hand over the muck to read the stenciled legend on it. "Lombard, Incorporated," he added shortly. "Here's another one-antifreeze. And another, full of motor oil. Of all the cheap...there are provisions for disposal of substances like this. Why, why, would he pay someone to dump it here instead?"

"To cut costs, of course. A man with a truck is plenty cheaper than an outfit qualified to handle toxic waste."

"Hold it right there and let me get a shot of it," one of the print media reporters called. He snapped the picture, including two dead water birds floating on the surface, waited for the film to advance automatically and took three more. The broadcast journalists were rolling their own videocameras furiously. "That should do it. Do you think this will make a case?" he asked the environmental people.

"Indeed it will," one of them commented.

Haralson dragged Cortez aside. He was wiping away sweat as he glared at the Comanche. "Busybody," he told his friend. "I didn't want to release this to EPD and the local newspapers and TV people until I had time to write a statement giving Seymour the credit!"

"Go to it. There's still time. And you'll never get a better opportunity than this," Cortez pointed out. "As to reporting what I found, I work for the federal government," Cortez reminded him. He produced his wallet. "See? I have a badge."

Haralson was thinking ahead. "This will be all over the state by morning."

"I do hope so," Cortez said easily. "A man who dumps this sort of garbage in a wildlife area should be drawn and quartered by the media, along with the people who hired him to do it!"

Haralson whipped out his pad and began to take down what he was gong to say. This was a heavensent opportunity, and it was going to stand Clayton Seymour in excellent stead with local voters. He began to smile.

"You must have proof of a connection," he mumbled jubilantly to Cortez. There was something in Haralson's eyes. Something Cortez almost questioned.

"I wouldn't have called all these people if I hadn't," Cortez said, gesturing as the EPD people pulled yet another drum out of the marsh. "I can tie these tire treads to one of Burke's trucks, and one of Burke's own employees told me about the site."

"This is one excellent piece of investigation."

"Of course it is. I work for the..."

"...government!" Haralson chuckled. "Yes, I know. You eat, drink and sleep the job. How could I have forgotten?!"

"Think how well this is going to work out. Sam Hewett will lose the attention of his senior aide, Norman Lombard, with Kane Lombard fighting the environmental people. Seymour will win the election, Lombard will be prosecuted for environmental homicide, and Burke will be spending years as someone's girlfriend at Leavenworth."

"You're right. It's going to work out very well indeed. I'll just get this release over to the press and wait for results. Now that we've got Lombard on the run, maybe we're safe."

"What was that?" Cortez asked curiously.

"Nothing," Haralson said. "Nothing at all. Thanks for your help."

"Thanks for selling me the gold piece. See you back in D.C."

"Yeah. Sure. Think nothing of it." Haralson was already walking away, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he bent his head to light a cigar. Cortez, watching him, wondered if the man had scruples. Maybe he thought keeping Seymour in office was worth sacrificing any he had left after years as a political insider. This had been so easy. Maybe too easy. His mind locked on it like a dog's jaw on a bone as he watched Haralson. He felt used suddenly, and he didn't like it.

Todd Lawson gleaned the situation when he heard the traffic on the CB radio receiver he always carried with him. Something big was going on out at Pirate's Marsh, one CB'er said, and proceeded to elaborate on what had been found. Industrial pollution, and linked to the newest industry in Charleston, Lombard's automobile manufacturing company.

Lawson felt his job pa.s.sing before his eyes. He'd tried to warn Kane, but apparently the other man hadn't thought there would be any rush. It was going to be hard to tell him what was going on. Seymour had all the aces this time.

Telling Kane wasn't as bad as Lawson had expected; it was worse. Kane ran out of foul language after the first five minutes of yelling down the telephone receiver at him. Then he got really nasty.

"My G.o.d, why didn't you know until now? How did you ever get to be an investigative reporter in the first place?" Kane snarled.

"I tried. I just couldn't get any doors to open for me," Lawson said quietly. "It was really bad out there," he added involuntarily. "They ran some footage here a few minutes ago. There are dozens of dead birds strewn around the marsh, and Congressman Seymour called a press conference to denounce you and promise retribution. Senator Mosby Torrance has started forming a committee to investigate..."

"Sweet Jesus," Kane exploded with something akin to reverence. "I'll kill Burke with my bare hands!"

"Get in line. Yours isn't the only company logo they found out there, although it was the most prominent. Listen, call a press conference of your own while there's still time. Give a statement. Tell people where you were those two days when you went missing and the solid waste manager changed waste disposal companies."

Kane hesitated. He suddenly realized that if he did that he would have to tell the world that he'd let himself be knocked out and that a woman had nursed him alone for almost two days. Not only that, he'd have to admit that Nikki had stayed with him alone for three days. He pursed his lips and considered that it would give him some leverage later with Seymour if he needed it. He'd keep Nikki's dark secret, for now. Not that she deserved it, d.a.m.n her. He could almost hate her for making a fool of him with her deception.

"I won't do that," Kane told Lawson.

"Why not?"

"Because there's a woman involved," Kane mused. "And I might need that little tidbit later on. So I won't mention it now."

"Seymour is going to hound you to death over that marsh," Lawson pointed out. "You can't sit down and let him crucify you! You could go to jail, for G.o.d's sake!"

Kane stared blankly at the other man. "Don't be absurd. I'll have to pay a fine, but it won't amount to more than that."

"When Senator Torrance gets you in front of a microphone, it sure as h.e.l.l will," Lawson said doggedly. He stared at the floor. "Look, let me poke around and see if I can turn up anything fast. I know there's a link between Torrance and Seymour that we can use. I just have to find it before Seymour gets you to Washington!"

"Go for it," Kane said heavily. "Lawson...I shouldn't have flown off the handle like that. It's been a hard week."

"Things will get better. I'll phone you in a couple of days. Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news."

He hung up and Kane stared down at the telephone, barely seeing it at all. Amazing how much had happened in these few days. He was surprised by the protective instincts that Nikki provoked in him. He could save himself so easily by just mentioning where he was, and the circ.u.mstances of his two-day absence. But if he did that, not only would he sacrifice his ace-in-the-hole, he had to consider what it would do to Nikki. She was ill. He couldn't land her in a scandal until she was in fighting shape. Then, though. Yes, by G.o.d, she was going to pay for ingratiating herself to him and pumping him for information. G.o.d knew what she'd managed to find out from his housekeeper and Jake during her residence. He'd have to grill both of them and make sure. d.a.m.n his own blindness! He'd been so attracted to her that he hadn't even considered that she might have ulterior motives.

He forced his mind back onto the problem at hand. Indiscriminate dumping was a long-standing problem. Many people had been charged with it. He hoped Lawson would turn up something else on Seymour. He didn't relish the thought of having to use Nikki's presence in his life as a weapon against her brother.

Derrie was cheerful in the office the next morning, having just heard the news.

"Nice going, boss," she chuckled.

"Don't thank me, thank Haralson and his friend, Cortez," Clayton returned, smiling at her as he put down his briefcase in the small office he kept for const.i.tuents in Charleston. It was part of a suite of law offices, but he rented a room. It was nicely furnished and very sedate. Everything a congressman's office should be, he thought approvingly. He had another in the state capital. A man couldn't gather too much support, and he had to be accessible everywhere.

"Was he personally responsible, do you think?" Derrie asked. "Mr. Lombard, I mean."

"What does that matter?" he asked, puzzled.

She frowned. "That doesn't sound like you."

Clayton sat down and stared at her. "I'm fighting for my political life," he said slowly, as if he were talking to an idiot. "If I don't get Lombard's back to the wall, his family may discover something about Nikki and Mosby and print it. Can you imagine in your wildest dreams what that would do to Nikki?"

"Yes, I can," Derrie said sadly. "But it hardly seems fair to destroy a man's whole life to spare your sister. Mr. Lombard's wife and little boy were killed in a car bombing in Lebanon just last year. He doesn't deserve to be crucified if he's not personally responsible."

"Of course he's personally responsible. I feel..." He stopped as the telephone rang, picking it up. "Seymour," he said. "What's that? You've had them blow up some photographs of those dead birds and put them on the placards they carry? Are you sure...okay. Well, listen, don't pay them any more than you have to, we're on a tight budget right now. Okay. You do that. Thanks, Haralson."

He hung up, a little hesitant about feeling triumphant. Haralson sounded very happy, but Clayton felt a sense of guilt. How absurd. He had to keep Lombard off his back and protect Nikki. This was the best way.

"Well, that should heat things up at Lombard's plant," he said thoughtfully. He glanced at Derrie. "You might call the local television stations," he told her. "Tell them we've heard that a group of environmentalists are about to start a picket line at Lombard's plant."

Derrie was just staring at him, her blue eyes incredulous. "You've paid people to picket him!"

"I haven't. Haralson's taking care of it," he said stiffly. "He says that by putting Lombard on the defensive, we can protect Nikki and Mosby from any tabloid threat."

"And you believe him? Clay, this isn't the way!" she cried. "For heaven's sake, this is dirty!"

"And you don't want to soil your lily-white hands?" he chided coldly. She p.r.i.c.ked his conscience, brought out his own doubts and fears. He didn't like it.

"What you're doing is against everything I've ever believed in," she said quietly.

"Do you think you're irreplaceable?" he asked, furious with her scruples, her refusal to obey instructions. "Do you think I keep you on the payroll out of undying love? My G.o.d, the only reason you're still working here is because of your typing skills. You're so starchy that you rustle when you walk, Miss Prim! No wonder you can't get dates except with nearsighted acne lepers!"

She felt her chest expanding with incredulous temper. "How dare you!"

"You moralistic little prude, you belong in a convent somewhere," he continued hotly. "Always defending animals and plants, street people, and the like...Bett said that you're pathetic and she was right. I need someone in this office who can help me politically, not a far left conservative trying to undermine everything I do!"

"I won't support dishonesty and corruption, thank you very much," she fired back. "You've changed since you got thick with Mosby Torrance and that Haralson plague of his and Bett Watts. You've convinced yourself that your position is worth anyone else's sacrifice, haven't you, that a little lessening of principles is worth all the prestige and money?"

"I'm protecting my sister, and you know it," he said angrily.

"No, you aren't. You're protecting yourself against the Democratic challenger and trying to regain the points you lost by sacrificing the spotted owl on the altar of profit."

"Don't judge me!"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," she agreed. "Your own conscience will hang you out to dry one day, if Ms. Watts doesn't pin it on the line right next to your manhood!"

He stood up abruptly, almost shaking with rage. "Get out!" he yelled.

"I'd be delighted!" she said fiercely, her small hands making fists beside her slender hips. "I was offered another job just a week or more ago, with a politician who has a conscience and a little moral fiber. I daresay he'd hire me in a minute!"

"Then feel free to join him!" Clayton growled. She made him hate himself. He wanted her gone, now! "If you want to go, go. And d.a.m.n you and your pristine little conscience!"

She couldn't remember a time when he'd ever cursed her. She stood glaring at him with the blood draining out of her soft complexion. As her burst of temper dissipated, it dawned on her that he'd just fired her. After three years of hard work and hero worship, he'd admitted that he loathed her. She'd been fired, and he'd made it sound as if she were quitting. It didn't quite all register at once.

The ringing of the telephone startled them both. Automatically Derrie reached for it. She listened for a minute and in a taut voice announced, "It's Nikki." She handed him the receiver and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

"h.e.l.lo, Nikki, what do you want?" he asked irritably.

There was a pause. "I need you to come after me," she said, her voice hoa.r.s.e and strained.

He was immediately concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I had a relapse. It's pneumonia," she said heavily. "I've seen a doctor and I have antibiotics," she added quickly, "but I really can't stay here alone."

"When was it diagnosed?"

"Three days ago..."

"And you haven't called me until now?" he raged. "Nikki, in the name of G.o.d...I'll be there in two hours."

He put down the receiver, worrying his thick hair as he stormed into the outer office. The path had been very clear in his mind-he'd tell Derrie to take over the office and he'd fly up and get Nikki. His plan altered immediately when he saw his aide.

Furious tears were streaming down Derrie's face. She'd already cleaned out her desk drawers and was picking up the small box that held the meager contents of her three years as his aide. All at once, he came to his senses.

"Derrie, no," Clayton said in shock. "Listen, I didn't mean it," he added quickly, realizing that he'd said too much. "I've had a bad morning..."

"I've had a worse one," she said icily, her blue eyes glaring at him. "You can call the temporary agency. They'll replace me. I'll come back to retrain someone, but it's Friday and you have no pressing appointments today." She nodded toward the appointment book. "The names and telephone numbers of your appointments are right there. I guess you can make a pot of coffee all by yourself if you have to," she added with bitter sarcasm.

"You can't leave," he groaned.

"No? Watch me. I'm sorry if it's inconvenient. You did invite me to leave," she reminded him with cold pleasure when he grimaced. "But even if you hadn't, I can't work for a man who puts his political career above honor." Her soft eyes had gone hard, glaring at him. "You've been around Ms. Watts and Senator Torrance too long, haven't you? Whatever they've got is contagious and you've caught it."

"You can't leave!" he ground out. Then he dashed all her illusions by adding, "d.a.m.n it, Nikki's got pneumonia. I need you to stay here and hold down the office. I have to go up and get her at the beach house."

He needed her to work. That was all it had ever been, all it would ever be. She'd loved him, and he had nothing to give her. Why had it taken so long for her to realize it? She sighed heavily. "I'll go up and get her," she offered. "I like Nikki."

"What am I supposed to do in the meanwhile, type letters?" he raged. "That's what I pay you for!"

"Not any more," she said with quiet dignity. She shifted the box in her arms. "If you'll have the pilot stand by, I'll go to the airport and then I'll bring Nikki home."

He was furious. He couldn't hide it. Logic told him that he couldn't get a temporary girl in here and train her in the next thirty minutes. Derrie wasn't going to stay, but she would go and retrieve Nikki. She had him over a barrel.