Free Rogue Justice by William Neal Page B

either."
    "Everyone has a price, Savannah."
    "No, they don't, Mitchell. This woman is smart and tough. She's also fiercely independent, words people have used to describe me, I might add—though not always in the most flattering light. But that's not the point. The point is I can relate to her. And I assure you, women like us don't react like you men. You've got to think about pushing different buttons. And the dollar sign isn't one of them, certainly not with her."
    "Okay, I'm listening."
    Savannah pointed to a paragraph halfway down the page. "See this? There's a brief mention of a school she started in Nepal for orphaned kids. I can make some calls in the morning, find out exactly what the deal is. So if you're hell bent on moving forward, then use this as your carrot."
    Chandler leaned back, the gears meshing now. He was not a man who believed in luck. He was methodical, logical, a planner. He also knew his instincts were right. The charity angle was a good one, but there would need to be a backup plan. There was always a backup plan.
    The discussion then turned to Captain Zora Flynn, how best to approach her, and who should make contact. Savannah couldn't go for a whole host of reasons. She was in the direct employ of CGE; she had a prior commitment that might raise a red flag if canceled; and there was no way someone who looked like her could slip in and out of Sitka, Alaska without causing a stir. They'd already ruled out using a Black Stallion operative, which left only one other viable choice. Chandler would make that call at first light.
    With that settled, what he needed now was to forget about whales and theme parks and goddamn activists and enjoy this ravishing woman. Bringing Savannah on board had been one of the smartest decisions he'd ever made, despite the challenges involved in making it happen. Besides her obvious traits—beauty, brains, and talent—Chandler also loved the fact that she cared nothing about his net worth or his high-powered friends. The truth of the matter was, she had plenty of money and influence in her own right. She liked him for him and, all in all, it was a damn good package. At sixty-two, he was in remarkable shape. He worked out at least three times a week, kept his weight in check, and could still hold his own on the racquetball court with men half his age. Then there was the brown belt in tae kwon do, something he wore with great pride.
    "Hey, enough talk," Chandler said. "How about that little surprise you promised me earlier?"
    It took Savannah a few moments to shift focus. But when she did, she smiled a lascivious smile and stood up. "Never thought you'd ask, lover boy." She then sashayed over to the window, began swaying back and forth in a rhythmic dance. "I watched an interview with a former stripper on cable the other night, quite the babe. She had some interesting tips on pleasing a man."
    Chandler instantly perked up. He felt like he'd just been hit in the groin with a heat-seeking missile. "Like you need a tutorial, Savannah?"
    "Hey, a girl can always use a new trick or two. Shall I demonstrate for you?"
    It was a question that needed no answer.
    Savannah stared at him for a long moment, then unzipped her hoodie in a long, steady pull, letting the soft material slide over her shoulders. She then strolled languidly back to the couch, slowly drawing the edge of a perfectly manicured red nail down Chandler's cheek. Her milky white breasts were now temptingly close to his face. She reached for his hand, whispered in a satiny voice, "Come, Mitchell, come along with me."
    They moved arm-in-arm down a flight of carpeted stairs, entered her spacious bedroom. It smelled of jasmine and glowed from the flickering light of a dozen ornate candles. There were big, fluffy, pastel-colored pillows everywhere. Chandler pulled her to the bed, felt the trance-like movement of her hips, the burning desire in her lips. His breathing was fast now and his heart was pounding like a jackhammer.