The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  She was able to slip past the arguing group to swing open the door just as the shouts from the group reached a crescendo. Sean didn’t even look up, but the wild eyes of the girl he was riding doggy style hit her hard in the gut. Ellie tried to speak, to say his name, to say anything, but nothing came out.

  “Oh my God,” blurted out a deep voice beside her. She recognized the reporter immediately. He was the same one that had been following her around ever since Eli became the party’s candidate. “This is great, this is great,” the reporter said, whipping out his phone. Even amidst the near-brawls with the bodyguards and Sean’s friends, the reporter made sure to video Ellie’s expression first before panning over to Sean fucking the girl on all fours. The girl finally noticed them. “What the fuck? Get out!” she screamed, rushing to cover her breasts with one hand which brought both her and Sean crashing down.

  “Hey, what?” Sean asked. Ellie could hear the alcohol in his voice, but he only sounded tipsy, not drunk. “Ellie? Ellie, what are you doing here?”

  Her words still failed her, even as she pushed past the reporter. “Ellie, wait!” Sean called, but she was already gone.

  “Miss, this way.” She let the agent lead her out the kitchen exit to the Secret Service SUV parked outside. Sean? Really? She couldn't believe it. And the reporter. Jesus Christ, this is going to be all over the news. It’ll go viral. Eli is going to be pissed. “Are you okay, miss?” asked a bodyguard, but all she could do was nod numbly.

  When they dropped her off at home, she was reminded how ridiculous it was that she still told these agents goodbye every time. After all, they were just going to park across the street and watch her windows. All she wanted was her bed, and the comfort that a cocktail-induced sleep could bring.

  Her mom was gone, busier than ever in so-called retirement with nonstop yoga retreats in paradise. Ellie's bedroom was stacked with boxes. Only a handful of items were left out. She’d forgotten about all of this. The packing party with her mom, the shopping trips with Sean to pick out furniture and art to decorate his home—soon to be their home. She didn’t even have a proper bed to sit on. She’d sold it along with her other meager furniture in preparation for starting fresh with new couple furniture.

  The tears came slowly at first, and then in a thunderous assault. How could Sean do this? Ruin her entire life? And by tomorrow it would be all over the news!

  Eli. That was right. She sniffled the last of her dried-up tears away and grabbed her phone. Clearing the notifications from Sam’s texts that began with Where are you? and Did you find him? to WTF is going on???? she plugged in the secret White House private number.

  “Hello? Ellie?” Eli’s voice was syrupy with sleep. “Is everything okay?”

  “Did you really mean it? About the mountain cabin?” she asked.

  Eli laughed, and in that moment he was only her big brother again, nothing else. He wasn’t the president or some political celebrity everybody was fawning over. “Of course.”

  Chapter Three

  You need to get hold of yourself, Henry told himself as he plowed his SUV through the Carolina snow-covered mountain. This isn’t you. It isn’t. It’s the damn PTSD. Shit. You have to get control.

  He’d been driving already for nearly four hours. It wasn’t his first impulsive move. Ever since finishing his last tour with the Navy, he felt like he’d been floating. A part of him felt like he’d lucked out with a military contracting position. It paid the bills and then some, all while still leaving enough time to buckle down with what might be the first right career fit of his life.

  Henry loved what he did at the veteran rehabilitation clinic. It helped him stay connected to fellow vets, and being on the ground floor helping them find jobs provided instant gratification. He could really see how his efforts were paying off in a way his military career had never allowed for. Plus, it was the first time he’d met veterans like him. They knew what it was like to carry the worst of scars deep inside, cradling them like children.

  For a long time, he thought he could handle it. Hell, he thought he had handled it. The VA officer had cleared him to work with veterans, what more of a go-ahead could a person get?

  And he had to hand it to Bill. His boss could have easily fired his ass the moment Henry had him pinned against the wall.

  He still couldn’t believe he'd done that. Henry couldn’t even remember what kind of PTSD waking nightmare he’d been caught up in the day of the freak-out—but he could remember the aftermath with embarrassing accuracy.

  Watching the security footage really tied it all together. It was hard to see any subtle expressions he might have exhibited going into the “trance,” as he liked to call it. The video was grainy and the camera, like all of them in the rehab clinic, provided just one angle. But one angle was enough.

  It looked like he was just tucked into his work, bowed over some papers at his desk. Thank God there weren’t any clients scheduled with him that afternoon. As he’d watched the footage, Bill at his side, he'd noticed tiny shifts in his demeanor. Then the pen had dropped out of his hands, and he placed both palms flat on the table. He watched his own head lift, and a dead, stiff gaze locked on the bulletproof glass that made up his office window. There was a lot of bulletproof glass in veteran services operations.

  He sat like that for eleven minutes before Bill walked in. According to Bill, Henry had been sweating and shaking, but that wasn’t evident on the video. Instead, Henry looked calm and cool on the screen but moved in swift and jerky motions. As Bill walked in, he was already talking to Henry and poring over some documents—he didn’t immediately notice the strange atmosphere in the room.

  In less than two seconds, Henry was out of his chair and slammed Bill into the glass. Henry could see staff members running into his office, their terrified faces filling the screen. It took three men Henry’s size to peel him away from Bill.

  “I think you thought I was an enemy combatant or something,” Bill had told him as he turned off the footage. Henry couldn't recall exactly, but it certainly seemed like it. The first thing he could remember after the incident was sitting in the exam room on another floor, wondering why his fist was bruised and paining him. “You certainly retained your strength from your combat days,” the nurse told him, cocking her head.

  “Listen Henry,” Bill had said after showing him the footage, “I like you, and you’re a great worker. But you need to get some help. I’m fine, really, but what if it was someone else you attacked? What if there hadn’t been a whole team of people to calm you down? I can’t have you being here with those kind of PTSD side effects, especially when you’re working with veterans.”

  “I get it,” Henry told him. “I understand.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bill said. “Maybe… tell me what you think about this. How about you take some paid time off. Call it mental health leave. I promise your job will be here when you get back.”

  “I don’t know.” Henry had balked at the offer. How ungrateful are you? he thought to himself now.

  “Look. Henry,” Bill had said, standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a negotiation. You’re gonna have to take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” Henry told him.

  Bill had moved fast. By the end of the week, a nice, vague email had been sent out to the entire team with a brief overview of Henry’s upcoming absence. If the recipients hadn’t seen or heard about the attack themselves, which everyone had, they may have really believed Henry was just due for a nice little sabbatical.

  One week after the attack, Henry had packed up his rig and was headed toward Eli’s cabin.

  It had been years since he’d partied it up with Eli at the little cabin in the woods. The last time, Eli was just talking about running for Senate and Henry was still active duty. Back then, they’d made good on their promise to spend at least one weekend per year at the cabin with their friends. It was the ultimate boys’ outing, but Henry had been the only one Eli trusted with a
spare key. “These other jokers,” Eli had laughed as he finished another beer, “you can’t trust ’em if they passed a polygraph test. No way I’m giving them a key!”

  Luckily, that key had been one of the few remnants from Henry’s previous life he’d managed to hold on to. He’d kept it in a safety deposit box along with his civilian passport, a handful of family photos, and a sprinkling of keepsakes he just couldn’t let go of. When Bill helped him pack up his office and he found the key in the box, it was like finding salvation. It was a sign.

  He’d debated telling Eli about staying at the cabin, but ultimately passed. He wasn’t even sure he could get hold of him now, and he wasn’t going to call the public White House number and sound like a jackass. Eli would never find out—and even if he did, he wouldn’t mind.

  Already he could tell the drive to the cabin was soothing him. Ever since his last tour, the PTSD had caused regular stress tremors. People had told him they didn’t even notice, but he always did. He lifted his hands off the heated steering wheel, and the tremor quieted for the moment. Fresh air. That’s all I need. Well, and to not act like a total zombie maniac attacking my boss would be awesome, too.

  It was nearly dark when he finally pulled up to the cabin, and it was bigger than he remembered. Grander. Fully lit with wrought iron lantern lights and a matching wraparound porch railing, the soaring two-story cabin was more like a lumber mansion nestled into the forest. Like something out of a kid’s fairy tale, he thought. Eli had sure done a good job of keeping it up. But that must be easy with cleaning crews and the whole shebang a president could afford.

  Nosing the SUV into the driveway, he could see fresh tire marks in the snow. Had the cleaners been there that afternoon? How often did they come? Shit, they might even be government employees now and would report right back to Eli. That’s just what he needed, getting arrested for taking advantage of his friend’s vacant cabin. However, he’d driven all day to get here, and he was exhausted. At the very least, he could risk it for a night.

  “Jesus, it’s cold,” he said aloud, stepping into the snow with a crunch. With his arms full of groceries, he left the bags on the porch until he could make sure the fridge was cleaned out and working. The caretakers had left the lights on and as expected, the cabin was spotless. Sky-high cathedral ceilings with impressive beams hoisted up the focal point of the great room. Even from the entryway, he caught a glimpse of the almost purely glass posterior wall that framed an otherworldly snow-covered winter scene.

  The cabin was unnaturally cozy and warmer than it should have been for a deserted retreat. Glancing at the thermostat, he saw it was turned up to seventy, and the gas fireplace was off but still emitting heat. Someone had been here very recently. Must have just missed them.

  Upstairs, Henry claimed the first bedroom on the left—the same room he'd used the last time he stayed with Eli. It was the second master, and wholly masculine. A prized buck head was mounted over the minibar, and the custom king-size bedframe showcased living edge wood rendered by a local carpenter who either used local resources or imported from abroad. Nothing in between.

  Tossing his bag on the bed, he started to unpack. It had always been a habit of his, even well before his Navy days. No matter how tired he was or how far he’d traveled, Henry always had to make the place he was staying for the night feel like home. Tucked beneath his worn flannels and extra thick boot socks were two of his latest recommended books for PTSD. Embarrassment washed over him as he took them in, the only hint of vulnerability in the otherwise hypermasculine room.

  Digging into the side pockets, he pulled out his .45, phone, and charger. No service, as always. Still, he had to check. You’d think the President of the United States could manage cell service in his own cabin.

  “What the hell was that?” Outside, there was a rumbling. Wasn’t there? Or was it the PTSD? No, there was something there. He was sure of it.

  Drawing the gun, he walked downstairs stealthily. A bear? Shit, the groceries on the porch. Halfway down the stairs, he heard the door creak open and snap shut.

  It was way too late for a cleaning crew. Was there someone squatting here? A burglary? This was the last thing he needed to deal with.

  With remarkable silence, he descended the last of the steps and slid around the corner. “Hands up! Don’t move!” The ease in which the Navy slipped back into him was incredible.

  This was no burglar. A breathtaking redhead was facing away from him, wrapped only in a towel and slowly raising her hands. “Please don’t hurt me,” she said, gripping the towel until the last second before letting it fall to the floor. Her auburn hair fell in waves to her waist, crowning the crest of her perfect ass and heart-shaped hips. They curved in toward shapely calves, each inch of her flesh more perfect than the last. Henry felt his cock stirring—an instinct he hadn’t entertained for a long time. Slowly, she turned her head as he lowered the gun. “Henry?”

  “Ellie?” he asked. Their eyes locked for what seemed like minutes. Henry could see the profile of her breast and the stiffness of a pink nipple. It was like she was letting him drink her in, drop by drop.

  Damn. When did Ellie get so beautiful?

  Chapter Four

  Her face was on fire as she snatched up her towel—acutely aware that she had to bend over right in front of him to do so. “What are you doing here?” she spat, struggling to secure the towel around her.

  “Vacation,” he shrugged. He was back to normal now, but she’d caught that glimmer in his eyes. He’d looked at her in a way he hadn’t since that time six years ago at the party. Right before she’d vomited all over him. In the years since, she’d seen him a few times. At the inaugural ball, of course, and damn if he didn’t look incredible in a tux. Other times there had been occasional get-togethers, parties hosted by Eli, and other excuses to gather for one celebration or another. However, each of those times, he’d been reserved. She’d tried, at first, to search his eyes for some hint of what she’d seen once, but it was never there. Until tonight.

  “Vacation?” she asked, wrapping her arms across her chest. What’s the point? He’s already seen everything.

  “I didn’t expect…” he began. “Well… it makes sense that you would be in hiding, but…”

  “You’ve seen the video. Great,” she said. “That’s just great. I guess everybody’s… I’ll be right back.”

  Rushing upstairs to her bedroom, Ellie pulled on the first thing she saw. She couldn’t believe Henry had seen the video. Naturally, everyone had. It had gone viral and was even picked up on national and global news stations. All the “juicy stuff,” as Sam called it, was blurred out of course, but you could still tell the girl Sean was ramming was a ten. A ten. Seriously, Sean? You had to go and show the whole world that I wasn’t good enough for you?

  Pulling on faded jeans and a thin T-shirt, she cringed again and again over what had happened downstairs. Of all the people to walk in on her here, Henry was the last one she could have imagined. Every time she’d seen him in the past few years, from birthday celebrations to the occasional run-ins at the store, he was always with a pretty blonde glued to his arm. Always blonde, always. He really does have a type, she thought. And I’m clearly not it. It’s a good thing he’d never met Sam. There would be no stopping that power couple. And there was no way she could handle her best friend marrying the only guy that had ever made her feel like this.

  Besides, for two of those years she’d had Sean. Or at least she thought she had. Damn, and she’d been so careful about picking out her first official boyfriend, too. Everyone had said what a great guy he was, so intelligent and caring and compassionate. He’d spent a summer in Nicaragua volunteering to build community water wells, for Christ’s sake! And he had the nerve to cheat on her?

  At first she’d been thrilled to show him off like some kind of prized pony. “He’s majoring in pre-law,” she’d told Henry and the random blonde of the moment the first time they’d met.

  “Oh, well g
ood for you!” was Henry’s reply. She’d been so pretentious. Had she really thought that would impress anyone, especially Henry? Henry had earned his MBA while in the military and completed three tours. Why on earth would some barely legal kid majoring in pre-law impress him? Remembering that moment made her cringe even more. And the worst part? Seeing him tonight, even after the towel dropped, her heart squeezed the same way it used to—in a way she thought it never could again.

  His footsteps echoed on the stairs. Why couldn’t he have been that loud when she was downstairs in just a towel? She held her breath when he reached the landing, listened as he shuffled through something in the room next door. What is he doing? Is this… is this when something is supposed to happen between us? If she was supposed to move now, make some kind of noise or give a hint that he should come in, she just couldn’t. She was frozen. When she heard him shut his door and head back downstairs, she could finally exhale.

  Glancing in the mirror above the bedroom vanity, she made a face and a brief attempt to smooth her brows and pinch her cheeks. You’re a mess. A mess! She hadn’t even washed her hair, just folded it under a towel. Without a whit of makeup, she felt truly naked and wholly vulnerable. If she’d known Henry was going to see her naked, she would have done things differently. Brazilian wax, salon-worthy blowout, and that no-makeup makeup look Sam had been trying to teach her. I really am just a kid, she thought. Nothing, not even a degree from Georgetown, was going to change that.

  That same familiar feeling pulsed from her center, but she forced the thought away. Stop acting like a lovesick teenager, she scolded herself before going downstairs.

  “Groceries?” she asked, watching him unpack the bags on the counter. “Looks like you plan to stay awhile.” He shrugged again, lowering his gaze. “Must be some fascinating… frozen broccoli there,” she said.