S enator Washington McCrane gave me the creeps .

Capitol C creeps, too .

I'd hired a private investigator to check him in the week since Jake had told me the truth about his past, and his connection to the powerful McCrane family .

One thing my family had taught me – knowledge is power, and the investigator had come up with plenty of knowledge .

McCrane had plenty of reason to give me the creeps. There were stories about him that had been swept under the carpet, washed away by money, or tucked in dirty closets because of threats .

If I was smart, the last thing I'd do was go head to head with a man like this. But the man I cared about deserved to have his life back and that wasn't going to happen until he knew what happened that night .

McCrane had a fundraiser going on tonight, and I'd used my aunt's and mother's connections to get me a ticket inside – plus a good thirty minutes alone with the senator for a private interview. He thought he had a sympathetic ear for the current volatile state of politics, thanks to my family background. But he must not have paid much attention because if he had, he would've realized my family and the kind of politics he played were two very different fields .

But it didn't much matter. He was an egocentric ass who had heard what he wanted to hear, which I'd been counting on .

I'd left Jake a note along with a ticket, knowing he wasn't going to get here until I'd had a chance to talk with the senator, maybe even after the five-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner had started, but once he saw the name on the ticket, he'd be here .

He had no idea what I was up to, and I knew he wasn't going to be happy with me, but I'd also known I had to do this. I wanted Jake to be free and clear .

Jake.

His name wasn't even really Jake .

He'd been born Matthew Jakes , he told me, and after everything that happened, he'd scraped together the money for a name change and moved to New York. It was supposed to be a fresh start .

Seeing McCrane must have been like a punch to the gut .

Of course, sitting across from the slimy bastard wasn't a pleasant experience right now, and I didn't have a history going back all those years with him .

I couldn't imagine what it would have been like for Jake to seen him .

He'd told me that Washington had no idea he was in New York, might not even know he was a free man, although I had to wonder why the bastard wouldn't more closely watch somebody whose life he'd ruined .

Arrogance, though, had put many people in their place .

And arrogance was something this man had in spades .

"Your mother and father must be so proud of you," Washington said, sipping his second whiskey – served neat. I'd poured him extra too. "Coming half way across the country, setting up on your own. Now you've got a new career ."

I'd pumped him full of the shy, nervous reporter routine, and he'd eaten it up .

"I'm not brand new," I said, smiling a little. "And I'm determined. After all, I got this interview with you, didn't I ?"

"You did, at that." He tossed back the rest of his drink and gestured to the bar. "Are you sure you don't want a drink ?"

"Oh, no." Giving him a look of wide-eyed innocence, I said, "I can't drink on the job. But if you want another...please do. Me, I can't hold my liquor all that well anyway ."

He laughed and patted my hand. "Live and learn, sweetheart. What kind of questions do you have for me ?"

As he rose, I pretended to study my notebook. I had scrawled down the sort of questions I'd ask the typical politician. So he didn't move things along too fast, I fired a couple at him and jotted down the pat, trite answers. Politicians probably had these questions – and their answers – memorized within a month of deciding to run for office .

"It seems it's a hostile environment out there these days," I said somberly as he dropped back down in the chair across from mine .

"Oh, sweetheart." He gave me a mournful look. "If you only knew ."

If he kept calling me sweetheart, I was going to scream. But I smiled prettily and leaned in closer. "What was it like when you first got into this? If I read correctly, you were married before...had a wife and a child before the current Mrs. McCrane." His lids flickered. "It seems that your current wife isn't all that supportive. Was that the case with your first wife too ?"

Make it all about him, I reminded myself. He was a manipulator and a user. As long as it was all about him, he'd keep talking. Fortunately, a skill a freelancer writer learns early on...how to ask questions .

Giving him my own sympathetic expression, I added, "It's understandable if you'd rather talk about something else ."

"No, no..." He shook his head, reaching to tug at his lower lip. "It's...I just haven't thought about them in a very, very long time." With an abashed look, he met my gaze full on this time. "That was a very unhappy part of my life, Michelle. I hope you'll be kind if you decide to discuss it ."

"Why don't you tell me your side of the story ?"

The man ought to be a story teller .

I sat there, listening as he spun a tale about him and his first wife – his high school sweetheart, of course – and how they loved each other more than the world, but the strain of the public eye was more than his introverted wife could handle and that she longed to raise her child in the small Texas town where she'd been raised. Naturally, it broke his heart, but he didn't want the woman he loved unhappy, and when a separation didn't work, they agree to divorce .

He was halfway through another whiskey, slurring his words, when he finally started talking more about Marlon .

"What was he like as a kid? Did he run wild?" I waggled my brows at him. "Was he a flirt like you ?"

"Oh, honey..." He shook a finger at me. "You...you..." He frowned, like he couldn't remember what he'd been about to say .

Shit, he better not be too drunk .

Reaching over, I took his whiskey casually, pretending to be thirsty. "Mind ?"

His eyes rested on my lips as I licked them .

I was so bad at this, but he was too drunk to notice .

"That boy of mine...I tell you what," he said .

"Tell me about him." I had long since stopped pretending to write. He hadn't even noticed. "I heard about the wreck he was in. Was he hurt ?"

"Stupid fuck," Washington muttered. "I buy him a car like that and what's he do? The first party he goes to, he ends up plastered and wraps it around a tree...and that woman. Fuck ..."

Widening my eyes, I put the whiskey down. "He was hurt? What woman ?"

Bleary-eyed, Washington stared at me. "How did you hear about that wreck ?"

"I research really well," I lied. "Did Marlon hurt the woman? Who was she ?"

"Stupid bitch died ," he snapped. "Yeah, I'd say she was hurt. Caused me no end of problems, and Marlon...idiot kid. I swear, there's no way that boy was mine. I told his mama she must have been fucking the mailman or something. I wouldn't have had a boy that stupid. And he goes running his mouth off after everything I did ."

"What did you do ?"

My heart was racing now, but he'd told me too much to stop .

The digital recorder in my little bag might run out of memory before he stopped at the rate he was going .

"I..." Washington stopped abruptly and looked around. "What the fuck are you asking about this for? You can't put this in a rag. How did you hear about the wreck? I buried it ."

He swiped out a hand and the glass went smashing to the floor behind the bar. "Who the hell are you ?"

Rage must have been doing something to clear the alcohol from his head because he suddenly looked a lot more aware than he had even a few minutes ago. His eyes landed on the notepad I'd left on the bar and nerves unraveled in my gut .

Sliding over the barstool, I decided maybe it would be a good idea to make my exit. Like now .

His hand clamped over my wrist and bile surged into my throat. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "Where do you think you're going ?"