Redemption Key (A Dani Britton Thriller) Read Online Free Page B

doubted anyone could—but they didn’t scare her. Even when wall-eyed Joaquin tried to slip his hand between her legs, she didn’t panic. She knew what he wanted and that made him easier to handle. A lot easier to handle than what sat at the end of the bar.
    Caldwell. The very first time Dani had laid eyes on the balding man, the very first time she’d seen him climb onto the barstool and fold his arms over the lip of the wood, she’d known who he was. She’d known what he was. Dani’s employment by a government agency might have been unintentional, but she could recognize a willing employee of the state at a hundred paces.
    He didn’t usually carry a gun, although Dani had spied the ungainly bulge at his back once or twice. He didn’t wear the ugly suits that seemed to be regulation for many Feds. He didn’t even flash his badge around like an extension of his dick.
    What gave him away to Dani was the smug confidence that followed him like a smell, confidence that he had authority, immunity, the ability to arrest, and the security of never being arrested. The arrogance of authority showed itself in every peanut he tossed back, every filthy joke he told.
    At first she assumed he was yet another agent sent to check on her like they had on Key West. That never seemed to get old for UncleSam. Sometimes the agent or agents made a show of their presence, full suits and dark glasses, standing too close to her and looking down their badges at her. Sometimes they tried to slide in like locals, looking ridiculous in their idea of vacation clothing. They’d try to make idle chitchat with her. After the first few visits she realized they were just there to remind her that she was still in their sights.
    She still hated them. She still had to resist the urge to run. She’d avoided Caldwell as long as possible but she knew she’d wind up having to serve the balding agent his drink. She’d have to let him run his line of patter that would inevitably end with “You being a good girl, Dani?” to which he would expect her to faint in terror. She thought she’d hide her eye roll and that would be the end of it. Then Mr. Randolph had shown up, slapped the man on the back and sat down for a lengthy, friendly conversation.
    And Dani was stuck there with the man watching her like he thought if he stared hard enough he’d be able to see right through her. What did they tell her babysitters? Surely not the truth. From what Dani had been able to tell, nobody knew the truth about Rasmund. So why was Caldwell so interested in her?
    “I’m going to go set up the room, boss.”
    Mr. Randolph wanted a basic wet bar setup in Room Four, just the basics—glasses, ice, napkins, garnishes. Dani would run the liquor and the mixes herself. She knew his logic—her occasional interruptions served as punctuation to the meeting’s rhythm. Her boss used her service as an unspoken reminder that he controlled the scene. If tempers got hot, he’d break in with a suggestion of fresh drinks; if stony silence threatened to stall discussions, he’d send Dani to fetch food. He’d even smoothed over one potentially violent face-off by having Dani pour tequila poppers. Mr. Randolph knew how to control a room.
    “Be sure to get the fan going,” Mr. Randolph said. “I don’t know what this Bermingham guy smells like, but in this heat, you can pretty much bet the Wheelers are going to reek.”
    Dani would sooner be locked naked in a windowless room with every Wheeler in Florida than spend one more moment under the eye of a Fed.

    8:05am, 85° F

    “Hot enough for you?” Caldwell asked.
    “It’s August in Florida,” Oren said.
    “Yeah but it’s not even nine o’clock and it’s got to be ninety degrees already. That’s not Florida hot. That’s Vietnam hot. That’s gunplay-in-the-streets hot.”
    “Don’t remind me.”
    Caldwell pulled a mint leaf from his glass. “Any idea what the deal is?”
    “Bancroft told me it was antiques.” Oren