O'Neil Brothers: High Stakes Part 7

He re-angled his.

His heart beat a quick tattoo and he put his hand on her heart, too, to see if it was keeping time with his, pleased that it was.

She moved closer in the seat; so did he. The hard planes of his chest plastered against her curves, and Dylan began to despair of ever stopping with a taste.

He did. Not right away, but when he couldnt bear the constrictions of their clothing, of their sentiments, he stopped. Every muscle in Dylans body craved for more.

Their ragged breathing was a cacophony in the silent car. His put his hand on her cheek. It was heated, as he could feel his was. Her skin was like watery silk.

"That wasnt a good idea," she said in a harsh voice, "unless you want to come up."

He grabbed on to her shoulders, his hands holding her like a lifeline. But he managed to say, "No, I cant. We wont do this again."

A heavy breath escaped her. "Then unlock the door."

He hesitated.

"Now, Dylan."

Not knowing what else to do, he clicked the lock and she shot out of the car. He watched her until she disappeared into the building. Then he put his head down on the steering wheel, took in steadying breaths, and cursed himself in the darkness.

Chapter 6.

"Hey there big brother." Bailey smiled at Dylan on the computer screen when he answered her Skype call. He was rumpled and held a Guinness. Since she did, too, they lifted their bottles and said, "Slainte," simultaneously.

Her eyes narrowed and she frowned. "You look awful." She winked. "Well, as awful as Dylan ONeil can look."

He didnt take the bait, which worried Bailey. Now his eyes were bleak. "I havent been sleeping well."

"Why?"

"Just s.h.i.t around here." His face brightened. "Hogans home."

Bailey smiled at the thought of her Dylan-look-alike nephew. "How was the visit with his mother?"

"Same old, same old."

They talked about the kids, Ma and Pa, then the discussion turned to his job.

"I finally got to read your column on KPRAY. You challenged them, without accusing them of anything."

"I have a meeting tomorrow with the head honcho there."

"Youve got the most interesting job, Dyl."

"With drawbacks."

Ah, so he did want to talk about it. "Whats going on with Rachel?"

"You know me so well, which I dont sometimes like." He took a sip of his beer. "Mayor Jacobs called the head of Rachels network, and my editor, Herb Baker, strongly recommended-aka ordered-me to give her a second column. To do that, I have to be with her."

"Holy s.h.i.t! Thats the last thing you want."

"You know, I could avoid all this if Clay would just make nice with her."

Baileys face shadowed. "Hes so busy, and stressed, Dylan. Id hate to bother him with this."

"Hey, I was kidding. And Im not sure that would help, anyway. I gotta do this. Dont worry, Im a big boy."

"Which is part of the problem. You have male needs."

Dylan guffawed. "I dont need a lecture on that from my baby sister."

She grinned. "Your baby sisters learned a lot since she was a teen."

He chuckled. At least she made him laugh.

"So, whats the update on Mark?"

"As a matter of fact, he was discharged today. Hes going to Camp David to recover. His wife Mich.e.l.le insisted because hed never stay out of the business of the country if he was in D.C.."

"So Clays got a long haul as acting president."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you moving into the White House?"

"No, Clay refused and I didnt want to, either. It caused waves, but we couldnt usurp their family that way. Besides, that place gives me the creeps."

Again, Dylan laughed. "You sure are a different kind of Second Lady. Is he home much?"

She shook her head. "We havent seen him for three days. Hes getting briefed about the areas of most concern. He slept in the Reagan bedroom, but I can tell when I talk to him hes not getting much rest. Hes coming home tonight, though. Were having a romantic dinner after we get the kids down." She smiled. "Anikas staying over, so Rory will leave us alone eventually."

"Great nanny you have there." He glanced at his watch. "I gotta go check to see if Hogan is ready for school tomorrow."

"Before you do, tell me how youre feeling about Rachel."

"Truthfully?"

"Of course, you jerk."

"Its killing me to be around her." His expression turned bleak, and Dylan ONeil didnt do bleak often.

"I can imagine. I remember how hard it was to resist Clay."

"She says its hard for her, too. Being with me."

"Yeah, all thats a powder keg, waiting to explode."

He swore under his breath. "I hope not. Its tough, Bay."

"Im sorry."

"Uncle Dylan!" A voice came from behind Bailey. Rory had found her.

She said to her son, "Come say hi."

Another voice popped up. "Me, too. Me, too."

"Okay, Angel." Bailey stood and picked up her little girl. "Take my chair, Rory. Angel, you can see Uncle Dylan from here." She whispered, "Sorry to miss the rest of the conversation."

"Dont be. It isnt pretty."

Dylan grinned at Rory. "So, Ror, tell me about that cute little redhead at school."

"What?" Bailey said. It took her a minute to realize shed been had.

Dylan entered the board room at the headquarters of KPRAY and found Robert Zacharias at an oval oak table with his Bible in front of him. He was a demure man, slight of build, sporting a receding hairline and dressed in a plain white shirt and blue tie. Once again, the surroundings were modest, with several windows, through which a March sun shone. Prints of religious art decorated the walls.

"Welcome, Dylan." Zacharias didnt stand but held out a hand. After they shook, he added, "Have a seat." When Dylan dropped down across from him, the mans expression was pleasant, as if Dylan wasnt here to nail him. "Jamie tells me you have some questions about the ethical nature of our radio show."

Relaxed but alert, Dylan gave him a perfunctory smile. "You have a bigger organization than the radio show, sir."

"Call me Robert. Thats right. But the intent of everything we do is to bring the message of Jesus to people." He sounded as if he meant that. He probably did. Religion was full of do-gooders gone down the path of perdition.

Dylan added, "You operate like a corporation with a headquarters"-Dylan motioned to the room, the building-"a Board of Directors and officers."

"With many differences, though. Our BOD is unpaid; were nonprofit and a member of the Evangelical Council founded by Billy Graham. ECFA oversees our financial affairs, ethics, which seem to concern you, and reporting standards. The Fortune Five Hundred dont do that."

Dylan already knew all that. "I a.s.sure you, Robert, Ive studied your website. My concerns are about the more ephemeral nature of your business."

The man steepled his hands and his brows knitted. "I dont understand."

Dylan picked up his tablet. "I have a series of questions for you."

"Youve read our mission statement, our vision, right?"

"I did."

"Then go ahead."

"What are the people like who donate to keep the station going?"

He held up a hand, fingers splayed. "Let me tick them off for you, some of the ones I remember. Theres Tammy, whos in her thirties, of Anglo Saxon descent and is a secretary at city hall. Peter and his wife, a middle cla.s.s suburban family, African-American, very fundamentalist. Mitch.e.l.l believes in the legalization of pot but has strong values and is a Mexican-American member of New Yorks senate." The fifth digit came up. "The Italian family who owns a store down the street partic.i.p.ates. Shall I go on?"

Clever guy. These examples came from all walks of life. All social cla.s.ses, all races and genders.

"Are all of them Christian?" Zacharias nodded.

Dylan asked a few more generic questions, then switched gears. "Im interested in those who use a credit card, where monthly donations are automatically deducted from the owners account into yours."

"Really, why?"

"Because my gut tells me people give more than they can afford."

Zacharias didnt seem surprised. "If Jesus wants them to."

"At what cost to them, though?"

"We all suffer for our faith, Mr. ONeil."

"And its okay for your listeners to suffer because they give money to you?"

"If G.o.d wants it that way." He leaned over and braced his arms on the table. "When my wife and I had a young family, she stayed home while I went out to work, and we scrimped. We still found a way to give significant money to our church."

"Im not against supporting a church you belong to. Churches do good work inside and outside their four walls."

"Then consider KPRAY a global church."

"Maybe I will. If you give me access to your donors. I want to hear their personal stories." He nodded to Dylans tablet. "There are testimonials throughout the site."

"Uh-huh. I want to talk to some of the ones not featured here."

"For what purpose?"

"To see if they can afford to support you."

The guy didnt immediately object, like Jamie Linton had. He seemed thoughtful. Then, "How would we go about that? I cant disclose ident.i.ties without their permission."

"Would a list of the last few days donors be available right now?" Dylan had read they got thousands a day.

"Yes, of course. We keep meticulous records."

"Good. Id like you to pick ten that came in who have automatic deposits. You can call them and ask if theyd talk to me. Be up front about what Im doing."

"Im sure many of our brothers and sisters would like to share their ministry with you." He started to stand. "Ill get you a list."

"Not so fast." Dylan gestured to the computer on the sideboard. "Access the list from there."