She pulls the flash drive out of her laptop and deposits it into a small purse resting on the edge of the desk, then stands. Booth and I both stand with her.
“We’re staying here in the hotel, right down the hall,” Booth says. “We’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
“And I will contact you the very second I have an answer, and deliver the promise in writing for you to take back to Zavala. Meanwhile, please enjoy the party. Anton can get you drink tickets.”
My shoulders feel a little lighter, but I’m still tense as hell, and torn between begging off and heading back to my room, or taking full advantage of the small stack of printed cards the senator’s assistant hands us when he shows us out.
Booth pauses before hitting the elevator button and looks at me. “Down to the party? I don’t know about you, but I need more than what the mini-bar in my room has to offer.”
“May as well take advantage of the free booze,” I say with a shrug. When we’re inside the elevator car, I note Booth’s frown and his uncharacteristic broodiness. “What’s eating you?”
He huffs and shakes his head as if to dispel dark thoughts. “I just put something together in that meeting that hadn’t occurred to me before. The senator’s son used to be a DEA agent. I knew him a little, but he was more senior than me, and he was a field agent, so we didn’t interact much.”
I look at him, noting his use of the past-tense. “What was his name?”
“Chris Longo. He disappeared about six years ago during an operation investigating Amador’s drug sources in Colombia. Chances are he was killed, but his body was never recovered. It didn’t click until meeting the senator who he was.”
I wince. “That explains some things.”
“That’s not the half of it, though. Six years ago, before Katherine Longo was a US Senator, she was Administrator of the DEA. She was our boss. She was the one who assigned him to that operation.”
15 Callie
“See? You are turning heads, my dear,” Nina murmurs as we make our way through the Grand Ballroom of the Brown Palace’s annex. The event is even bigger than last year’s, so Mom had to upgrade to a larger space than the one in the main hotel. It’s still gorgeous, cleverly furnished with high-top tables and a smattering of decorative partitions around secluded, comfortable seating areas. The entire rear wall is occupied by tables of treats, champagne fountains bubbling at either end, and two fully staffed bars. Wait staff in crisp white shirts and slim black ties make circuits of the room carrying platters of cute little tasty morsels, as well as flutes filled with champagne.
My stomach gurgles from anxiety more than hunger. On the way over I promised Nina I’d keep an open mind about having a fling, but there are so many reasons to avoid it, not the least of which is that I doubt anything could top that airplane lavatory tryst with Mason.
I wish I’d met him before I got engaged and wasted three more years with Barnaby. I wish he’d given me his damn number! All I can think about now is how badly I want to get back to LA, because that’s where I’m likely to see him. Here, there’s too strong a chance of me running into Barnaby—maybe not at this party, but in Denver in general. He lives a few blocks down Little Raven, not far from Mom’s loft. We like the same restaurants and pubs, and we jog the same route along the river too. Of course, the asshat is probably in Aspen right now, so I don’t have to worry about running into him, which is preferable.
“Here,” Nina says tartly, and I find myself holding a champagne flute as I blink at her, startled by her sharp tone.
“What’s wrong?”
She heaves a sigh. “I hope you know I’m not giving up on this, so either you choose from all the hot, eligible bachelors here tonight, or I’ll choose for you. How ‘bout that guy?” She settles on a barstool at one of the high-tops, pointing toward a small group of men chatting near the stage.
The one she’s indicating isn’t in a tuxedo, but wears a dark blazer with a silk brocade vest and dark dress shirt beneath. He has a shaved head, and while he’s cute, he’s not exactly what I’d go for. I start to shake my head, but the way Nina’s eyes are bugging out makes me pause and give her a hard look.
“What the hell is up with you?”
She lets out an exasperated huff and tilts her head back. “God, what is up with you? Have you been living under a rock? I just pointed out a fucking rock star and here you are, all eh, whatever. That’s the lead singer of the band, honey. You know, the one listed on the big sign outside? The motherfucking Fray?”
I blink and do a double-take at the guy, because they happen to be my favorite band and I ought to have recognized their lead singer, even if Nina hadn’t pointed him out to test me. The night just got a little better, but not the way Nina thinks. “You know he’s married, right?”
“They’re not all married, though. I bet your mom would introduce you if you asked. Their drummer’s kind of cute too.”
“I’m not hooking up with any of the band tonight. I wouldn’t mind meeting
