They were careful in their planning, only meeting in person. No exchanges by phone or email. No records that could link them together. They decided it would be a one-time deal, after which they would go their separate ways. Mandy would quit the escort service and get out of town, and Grant would continue on with business as usual, with the senator none the wiser to his involvement in the scheme.

They agreed to ask for five hundred thousand dollars.

Then they agreed it wasn’t enough and bumped it up to a cool million.

Not an exorbitant sum to Hodges, whose family had founded one of the largest grocery store chains in the country and owned an NFL football team, and certainly an amount he could pay without much doing. But it was enough to get Grant back on his feet after the gambling losses and more than enough to get Mandy off her back. The profits would be split fifty-fifty, they agreed.

Or so Grant had thought.

The time to strike came when the senator was invited to a thousand-dollar-per-plate charity fund-raiser for a children’s hospital that would keep him in the city late into the evening. Hodges asked him to make the “necessary arrangements” and Grant set about doing exactly that. They would be staying at the Peninsula, where Hodges was a frequent visitor, and Grant knew the layout of the hotel well. He’d been given a tour by hotel security earlier in the year when the senator’s son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren had stayed there that had pretty much told him everything he needed to know, including that which was most important: where the hotel kept their cameras.

Mandy requested room 1308, a room she’d stayed in before. Given its location, it suited their needs perfectly. It was in a corner and right across the hall from a stairwell, providing Grant a low-visibility means to sneak in and out of the room. And, personally, he got a kick out of the sinister connotations that came with the number thirteen. Another man in his position might have felt guilty, planning to screw his boss out of a million dollars, especially when that boss had been fair and respectful to him. But Grant was not that man.

Senator Hodges was weak. Sure, Grant had vices, everyone did, but the senator had put himself in a position to be preyed upon by others, and that made him a fool. Plus the guy had more money than sin and Grant didn’t see anything wrong with redistributing some of that wealth in his direction. Given what he knew about the senator’s private affairs, he’d earned that money just for keeping his mouth shut.

When the night finally arrived, everything started out smoothly enough. After Hodges headed to the hotel after the fund raiser to—how thoughtful—call his wife to say good night, Grant drove his car into a dark alley a few blocks away and quickly shed the trademark suit and tie he always wore when working with the senator. He threw on a nondescript black blazer, hooded T-shirt, and jeans, an outfit that would make him less identifiable on the off chance anyone spotted him around room 1308. A few minutes later, he parked the car and entered the hotel through its back entrance, located the stairwell that would lead him to Mandy’s room, and hurried up the thirteen flights of stairs. Having timed things nearly to the minute, Mandy had just arrived herself and was waiting in the room. She had a small video camera she had purchased, per his instructions, from a spy shop on Wells Street.

Grant set up the camera, gave Mandy a thirty-second tutorial, and hid it behind the television that was conveniently located in front of the king-sized bed.

“What’s with the gloves?” Mandy asked, taking in his black leather-clad hands while he worked.

In hindsight, Grant probably should’ve given the answer to this question a little more consideration, as it was the first sign of trouble.

“Just being careful,” he’d said matter-of-factly while opening the armoire doors another quarter inch and checking to make sure the camera wasn’t visible.

“Just being careful how?” Mandy asked.

When Grant turned around, he saw she had her arms folded across her chest.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You mean, just being careful, as in, if Hodges doesn’t go for this, and he turns me in to the cops, there’s no proof you were ever involved? Is that the kind of being careful you’re talking about?”

She might not have been the prettiest call girl Grant had ever seen, but she wasn’t the dumbest, either. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lot of time to finesse the situation.

“We’re blackmailing a United States senator, Mandy. Yes, I’m being careful. And so should you. But it’s not exactly going to be a secret to Hodges that you’re involved in this. You’re the one screwing him, remember? Not to mention, the one who’s making the deal with him for the money.”

“Funny how, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m the one who’s doing all the work,” she said. “Not to mention”—she mimicked him—“the one taking all the risks.”

Fucking women. He should’ve known she’d start bitching about something last minute.

Grant took her by the shoulders, tempted to give her a good shake. “This was your plan, Mandy. And it’s a good one. Just keep cool, and let’s do this.”

It took a moment before Mandy nodded. “You’re right.” She exhaled. “I’m sorry, Grant. I think I’m getting nervous about all this.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her. “All you need to do is turn the camera on when you hear Hodges knock—make sure you put the armoire doors back in the exact spot they’re in now, then turn the camera off when he leaves. The rest of it is no different than any other job. I’ll be watching in my car from the street below. Turn the lamp by the window on and off three times so I’ll know when you’re done. I’ll come up, check the tape to make sure everything’s okay, and then you’ll leave just like you would any other night.”

“Thanks, boss. Anything else?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Make it look good.”

And did she ever.

As planned, Grant re-entered the hotel as soon as he saw the signal in the window and hurried back up to her room. When Mandy let him in, he pulled the camera out from behind the television and checked the tape. He started at the beginning, then played the tape back on fast-forward. He stopped intermittently to watch, being sure to keep the volume down. Soon, Senator Hodges would very likely come to regret his ever having met Ms. Mandy Robards, but for that night at least, he was quite vocal in expressing his pleasure with their acquaintance.

“See anything you like?” Mandy drawled as she reclined on the bed in one of the hotel bathrobes.

“Just making sure the tape’s clean all the way through,” Grant told her. The beauty in blackmail videography was in the details. Those doggie-style spanks were probably worth five hundred grand alone.

Grant continued to watch the replay on fast-forward, the senator pumping, Mandy bouncing, and the bed all a-shaking at comical speeds, until he got to the end. He slowed to watch approvingly as Mandy very cleverly maneuvered herself and Hodges in front of the camera as he paid her in cash before leaving. The last shot on the tape was Mandy turning off the camera.

When it was finished, Grant pulled out the tape and handed it over to Mandy. As they’d agreed, she would make a copy before showing it to Hodges. “Nice work,” he said.

Mandy smiled as she slid off the bed. “Thanks.” She grabbed her purse off the desk and put the tape inside. She leaned against the desk, taking him in.

“Sorry I was a bitch earlier.” She nodded at his hands. “The gloves, they threw me off for a second. But you were right, this is serious business and we need to be careful. I understand why you need to take your precautionary measures, and I know you’re going to understand why I need to take mine.”

There was a sudden gleam in her eyes that Grant didn’t trust. “Understand what, exactly?”