Triumph (The Bellator Saga Book 6)

by Cecilia London

  “It didn’t change you?”

  “I vowed that if it did, it was time for me to step away.”

  “You’d better not be so open here,” Christine said. “You might get burned a little worse on Capitol Hill than you did in federal court.”

  She’d figured that much out already. “I doubt it’ll be enough to make me change.”

  “Why not?”

  Caroline cocked her head innocently. “I just don’t know any better.”

  Christine actually let out a small laugh. “You are a very interesting person.”

  Her least favorite word in the English language. “People call things interesting when they don’t know what to make of them.”

  “And I don’t know what to make of you. Come on. Tell me why you asked me to lunch.”

  The truth seemed easy enough. “I thought you seemed nice.”

  Christine, who had been taking a sip of her drink, choked. “Try again.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “No one describes me as nice.”

  That seemed improbable. “Not even your husband?”

  Christine smirked. “Especially not my husband.”

  “Now I think you’re being facetious.”

  “Maybe.”

  Perhaps Christine thought the invite wasn’t legitimate. Perhaps she had a hard time getting to know people. Caroline would have to work with her, but knew it would be worth it. “You’re a real person. You’re not trying to fool anyone. You’re being authentically you.” She paused. “I hope you don’t find any of that insulting. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “No offense taken.”

  “Also, you have really nice shoes. I’m jealous.”

  “Do you always psychoanalyze people and their footwear when you first meet them?”

  When their heels were so impressive? “Yes, but I normally don’t say it out loud.”

  “Why are you verbalizing your theories with me?”

  “I know you can handle it.”

  Christine toyed with the straw in her drink. “I can dig up a racquet somewhere. Maybe we can play when we’re not butting heads over legislation. And I’m always up for shoe shopping.”

  Caroline winked at her as the waiter came over with their food. “That sounds great.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jack kissed her forehead. “Slept your way through another flight.”

  Caroline snuggled next to him. “Better than having to worry about making small talk with you.”

  “A lot less nerve racking too. Must be nice to pass ten hours without a peep.”

  Had it been that long? She still had some pretty severe sleep deprivation, if that was the case. “Are we on time?”

  “So far as I can tell. The Mounties will escort us to Parliament Hill once we land.”

  “Prime Minister Savoie was always a reasonable man. I assume the meeting will be cordial.”

  “I hope so.” Jack stiffened ever so slightly. “We’re going in blind since Schroeder didn’t give them our names.”

  Better safe than sorry, she supposed. “Are you nervous?” she whispered.

  “I’ve never been this anxious in my entire life. But it’ll be okay, Caroline. We’re so close.” A tiny peck on the cheek turned into a long embrace. “You trusted your instincts,” he said softly. “You thought you’d lost that part of you, but you didn’t. Don’t forget that.”

  She didn’t want to tell him that half of that instinct was a sincere wish to dodge the inevitable. If she’d given up completely she would have had to fully grieve, and that was something she would never, ever be prepared to do. “I won’t.”

  He squeezed her hand as the plane lurched. “We’ll be there soon. Keep your wits about you and your emotions in check.”

  Jack was lecturing himself more than her. She patted the firearm in her knapsack. “Understood.”

  *****

  It didn’t matter that Canada was a sympathetic ally. After spotting Langlade in Amsterdam, Jack was taking no chances. He wanted them armed and ready, which was all well and good until they arrived at Langevin Block and the government building that housed the Prime Minister’s office. They had to leave their guns with one of the Mounties in the Protective Policing Service. Made sense. Caroline figured they were in one of the most secure locations in Ottawa.

  “He doesn’t know we’re us,” Jack reminded her.

  “Bet he recognizes you, though.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’ll get to the point right away.”

  “I want to know about the girls first.”

  “That was my intent. It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re going to get the truth.”

  She remained worried the article was a deception. A plant. So much for optimism. Fear could make a person do crazy things, think irrational thoughts. How ironic to arrive at a moment almost two years in the making and Caroline was still afraid someone was going to yank the football away before she could kick it. “Should we follow his lead when it comes to titles?”

  “You don’t want to call him ‘The Right Honorable’?”

  Her husband knew how she felt about formality. “I’d rather call him Denis or Mr. Savoie or…whatever else they call him.”

  “Mr. Prime Minister?” Jack offered.

  “You think we’d know this by now, being worldly politicians and all.”

  “Caroline, how we address him is the least of our concerns. I hope he doesn’t shock easily.”

  The Prime Minister’s security detail had interrogated them thoroughly, not entirely convinced of their intentions. Explaining their false passports had been awkward, but the men understood. They’d had to reveal their real names. It didn’t take the Mounties long to whisk Jack and Caroline into Savoie’s office, where a secretary ushered them into an interior room without fanfare.

  Few decorations. Cherry wood. Judge’s paneling. Sparse but tasteful furnishings. A modest, humble space. Caroline had expected nothing less.

  Prime Minister Denis Savoie was a pleasant, soft spoken man. A longtime member of the Liberal Party, he’d been in office for a little under four years. When he offered them candy from a dish on his desk, Caroline liked him immediately.

  “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first?” Jack asked.

  The Prime Minister stared at him a moment. “I have to be honest. My staff gave me your names and I couldn’t quite believe it. Although you both look terribly familiar.”

  He must have been told. Caroline was accustomed to those confused expressions, when folks thought their eyes were deceiving them. “Is that why you offered us candy?” she asked.

  “I do that with everyone but apparently you take it quite seriously.”

  “Caroline,” Jack admonished. “Stop hoarding sweets.”

  If she thought only about chocolate, maybe she could quiet the pounding in her chest. “Canada has the best stuff,” she said. “And he offered.”

  “Jack McIntyre,” the Prime Minister said. He stared at Caroline. “And, it can’t-”

  “Yes,” she said. “The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

  “We have records. I-”

  Poor man. He offered candy, Jack called her out, and the truth hit him before he had a chance to sit down.

  “Mr. Prime Minister-” Caroline started.

  “Denis,” he corrected. “I…don’t even know what to say.”

  Jack practically bowed. “Commanders McIntyre and Gerard, at your service.”

  “Jesus,” Denis said. “I need a damn drink.”

  Caroline slid the candy dish toward him. “Sugar helps. Didn’t expect us?”

  “My staffers don’t generally pull a fast one on me, but I assumed they were mistaken with the names. I expected a couple of overly dedicated militiamen in fatigues.”

  Her uniform was in her knapsack. Jack hadn’t even packed his. “I prefer sweaters,” she said. “Your country is cold.”

  Jack tapped her shoulder in an effort to get her
to refocus. “Our assistant made a rush request for visas after he convinced The Globe and Mail to pull a story a couple of days ago. I believe the United Nations expedited them.”

  “Ah, yes. You’ve been interfering with Canadian journalists.” He smiled at them. “Not huge fans of free speech?”

  “We were in Europe at the time so technically, we had nothing to do with it,” Jack said. “And we had good reason.”

  He was trying to be blasé. As was she, but Jack could control himself better than her. Caroline pulled the article out of her jacket, handing it to the Prime Minister with trembling hands. “As much as we’d like to talk diplomacy and joint military strategy, we were hoping that you-” Her voice caught. The chocolate in her pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She couldn’t say the words out loud.

  Jack squeezed her hand. “We’re looking for our children.”

  His voice had broken on the last word. But he’d gotten through it. Caroline suddenly felt very childlike. “Mr. Prime Minister-”

  Denis guided her to a chair. “Don’t. Stop working yourself up.” He returned the article and gestured for Jack to take the seat next to her. “It is my great pleasure to tell you that your journey has not been for nothing. Your children are indeed alive.”

  What a kind man. She didn’t know what to say, but she had to try. “How-”

  “Hold on.” He picked up the phone on his desk. “Could you send a car for Senator Sullivan? The American leaders have arrived. Have her bring her wards if she can. Yes. As soon as possible. Thank you.”

  He used her real name. Her former title. And he had mentioned the girls, even if not by name. Caroline’s remaining mistrust disappeared. She started to cry as Jack put his head in his hands. She sniffled, looking over at him. No, they had to keep it together. Parental relief didn’t trump their consular obligations. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long two years.”

  “You’re allowed to be human,” Denis said. “I’ve seen the documents. Heard the stories. You are an extraordinarily brave woman.”

  Jack recovered well enough to take Caroline’s hand. “She is,” he said. “I’m hoping Canada’s bravery will match hers.”

  Denis leaned forward. “You need help and we can deliver. But don’t think about that now. Relax. Worry about your family first. I’m certain we’ll be able to provide you with assistance. It’s to our mutual benefit for the United States to be restored to a proper democracy.” He refilled the candy dish before handing the remainder of the bag to Caroline. “Shall I catch you up on our military capabilities?”

  She shoved the bag into her coat pocket. Strategic discussion. A way to pass the time. “That sounds fantastic.”

  Small talk about the armed forces proved more engaging than Caroline had thought. They told the Prime Minister about The Hague. The warrants. The investigation. They didn’t mention names, though Savoie was quick to read between the lines. He knew it involved Santos, possibly higher-up members of the American government. But he also knew better than to ask specifics before it was necessary.

  “If any of the suspects are in our jurisdiction, we will process the warrants immediately,” he said. “The Mounties are happy to provide any services you need. You’ll be under their protection until you return to California.”

  “That’s quite generous,” Caroline said. “Our bodyguards would appreciate an excuse to unwind a little.”

  A knock at the door. His secretary peeked in, lifted one finger. The Prime Minister nodded. “Senator Sullivan just arrived,” he said. “I apologize, I don’t think she brought your children. But that can be remedied easily enough.”

  Her heart sped up, the type of reaction that usually indicated an oncoming panic attack. But this time it was sheer excitement. The anticipation of joy. The prospect of repairing a shriveled soul. A powerful physical response to an emotional onslaught.

  “Where is she?” Caroline asked.

  Denis touched her elbow gently. “Right through there,” he said, indicating a side entry to his office she hadn’t noticed before. “Take all the time you need. You’ll have complete privacy. The four of us can continue this discussion later.”

  Caroline stared at the door. At the worn gold doorknob, the aging lock. It took a skeleton key. Had to be antique. Years and years old. The wood grain blurred. Jack took her hand.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “You’ve had to wait long enough.”

  “I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t recognize me?”

  “She will. She’s not an asshole like me.” He threw open the door, dragging her behind him. “Come on, then.”

  “That’s really rude, Jack,” she said, stumbling into the room. “You’re supposed to knock first and Chrissy-” Caroline gripped his hand securely with both of hers, gazing at the lone figure on the couch.

  “Chrissy what?” Jack asked.

  “Chrissy was always a stickler for proper etiquette,” she said softly.

  Christine had been scrolling through something on her phone before she glanced up at them, surprised. She was wearing a pert red pantsuit and black slingbacks. There were circles under her eyes that even her meticulous makeup job couldn’t hide. She appeared as if she had aged far more than two years. But her hair was perfectly coiffed, her demeanor forever poised and self-possessed. She stood up, her eyebrows raised. Her phone slid out of her hand and onto the carpet.

  “Mother of God,” she said. “Jack?” She took a step forward, examining them closely. Caroline could almost hear the connection clicking in her mind as Christine turned to her, mesmerized. “What did you just call me?”

  She moved toward the two of them, her hands shaking. She kept staring at Caroline, never breaking eye contact. When she was only a few inches away she stopped. She started to reach out her hand, thought better of it, and pulled back. Christine wrapped her arms around herself and looked at Caroline inquiringly.

  Caroline gave her a watery smile. “Hi, Chrissy.”

  Her eyes widened and she started to sway. As Christine pitched forward Caroline managed to catch her in her arms. She looked down. Christine had passed out.

  “I certainly didn’t expect that to happen,” she said.

  Jack looked just as shocked as she felt. “Neither did I.”

  Caroline struggled to hold her upright. Jack was just standing there. She turned to him. “Are you going to help me or what?”

  “Sorry, you’re always talking about women not needing male assistance with such things.” Jack helped Caroline position Christine on the couch before picking up her phone and putting it next to her purse. “I was trying to honor your principles.”

  “Very funny,” Caroline said, as Christine started to come around. “Chrissy figured out who I was right away.”

  “And look how she reacted.”

  “Don’t be mean.”

  “Fine. When she comes to I’ll be sure to give her a trophy.”

  Caroline put her arm around Christine’s shoulders, patting her face lightly. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  Christine steadied herself on the couch. “What happened?”

  “You fainted.”

  “What?”

  Caroline knelt down on the floor and took Christine’s hands in hers. “Really, Chrissy. Fainting. That’s so Victorian.”

  “Caroline?” Christine asked.

  Caroline knew it was ill-mannered but couldn’t help but laugh. Christine Sullivan wasn’t a wilting flower by any stretch of the imagination. “I can’t believe you passed out,” she said. “And me without a camera.” She laughed again. “That mental image is going to stay with me a while.”

  Christine brought a shaking hand forward to touch Caroline’s face, her lips trembling. “Punky?”

  “Please don’t faint again,” Caroline said.

  “Did I fall asleep? Am I dreaming?”

  Caroline beamed at her. “You’re wide awake. And you know it’s me. Anyone else would have let you hit the floor.”
>
  Christine sprang down to envelop her in a vicious hug. The force was almost enough to knock her backwards but Caroline managed to keep both of them upright.

  Christine started weeping. “I thought you were dead.”

  Caroline began to cry too. “I almost was. More than a few times.” Christine was leaning into her chest, holding her so tightly that Caroline almost couldn’t catch her breath. “I promised you I’d come, Chrissy,” she whispered. “It just took a little longer than I thought.”

  Christine hugged her closer. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Passing out and crushing my lungs. Those may both be firsts for you,” Caroline said.

  That drew a chuckle. “I’ve never been one for spontaneous displays of affection. I don’t know how to do them very well.”

  “Doesn’t bother me in the least.” Caroline pulled them to their feet, cradling Christine’s face in her hands. “You had me worried for a minute. I thought the shock of seeing me might have killed you.”

  “You did throw me for a loop.” Christine grabbed Caroline in another ferocious embrace, glancing over her shoulder. “Jack.”

  He didn’t bother hiding his tears. “Hi, Christine.”

  She patted his arm. “Are you our rebel leaders?”

  “Indeed we are,” he said.

  “I should have known you’d find a way to defy the odds.” Christine brushed her fingers across his face. “Oh stop crying, you sap. Don’t even pretend you’re happy to see me.”

  But she was smiling, and Jack patted her back as she kissed his cheek. “You and Caroline just made me have a moment, that’s all,” he said.

  Christine gave him a giant hug. “Nice cover story, Governor.”

  “He prefers to go by Commander McIntyre,” Caroline quipped. “Makes him feel all big and manly.”

  “What’s your impressive title?” Christine asked her.

  “I’m a commander too. It’s quite tedious.” Caroline squeezed both of her hands. “How are our girls?”

  Christine sniffled. “They’re going to be so much better once they see you. I know I was supposed to bring them with me but I wasn’t sure how that would go over. Marguerite was eager to come but Sophie has been upset lately and if I had known it was you-”