There was a pause then, a moment of negative space, where nothing was said, no one breathed, and London and the woman who had given birth to her existed, in each other’s presence, for the first time in ten years. If pain could travel through invisible waves in the air, it did in that moment, and London felt it. The crushing weight of grief, and regret, and sorrow.
“Is it true?” Farrah asked. “The things in the paper.”
London’s stomach lurched and she squeezed her eyes shut against a vicious flash of pain that shot through her chest.
“Which part? That I’m a hooker? Yes. That Jason Melville was one of my clients? Yes. That I’m dating Derek Ambrose? It’s complicated.”
“Habibi,” her mother said, using the Arabic term of endearment from London’s childhood.
London broke. The tears coursed down her face and she bit her lip to keep from making any sound, but deep in her chest a wail began to rise, pressing hard against her ribs, screaming to be released, set free, liberated after ten long, hard years.
“My heart hurts for you,” Farrah continued. “Please let me help you somehow. Let me take this burden from you. Whatever happened in the past we can figure it out later. For now, let me help. I can give you money, I can hire lawyers, I can take you away from all of this. We’ll go on a vacation somewhere. Anything you want.”
London could feel it all breaking wide open—the tremor of it as the foundation of what she’d thought was cast in concrete, a permanent wall around her heart, began to split in two. It was terrifying, and yet she craved it as if it were a drug.
“I don’t think so, Mom,” she gritted out around the mass in her throat. “I can’t. Not now.”
Her mother made one of those tiny breathy sounds again, and when she spoke her voice cracked. “Okay. I understand. I won’t push you. Ever. I’ll never push you to do something you don’t want. But can I call again? In a few days maybe? Just to see how you are. Will you take my call? Please.” Desperation exploded from the single word, as Farrah made a sharp, pained sound on the other end of the call.
That sound was the straw that sent London’s self-control over the edge. She sobbed once, the tears coming faster, catching her breath nearly impossible. “Yes.” She nodded her head emphatically, even though no one could see her. “Yes. Call again. I’ll pick up. I have to go now.” She needed to end this before it ended her.
“Okay, Habibi. I will talk to you soon. Please take care of my daughter.”
London choked on another sob and disconnected the call, collapsing on the floor in a flood of tears and pain that had built over a decade. And in the back of her mind, she wondered yet again how she’d allowed any of this to happen.
The summons from Melville came at nearly five p.m., and Derek had to shove down the irritation that it was going to extend his day away from London by at least two hours. As he stood in the hospital elevator he couldn’t help but think that the Senator might have timed it to minimize the press pursuit. The nightly newscasts were live at dinnertime, and the day and night reporting staffs were still switching off shifts. There was a lull, and in fact only two reporters were stationed outside the hospital and neither of them seemed to have noticed Derek coming in.
When he reached Melville’s room Derek showed his ID to the secret service agents stationed outside the door. The Department of Homeland Security had assigned the early protection for Melville within hours of his shooting. The agents approved Derek’s entry and he looked through the window in the door to see Melville sitting up in bed with a TV remote in his hand.
“Knock-knock,” Derek called out as he stuck his head inside the doorway. “You ready for a visitor?”
“Derek. Come right on in,” Melville answered.
Derek walked to the bed and shook Melville’s hand. “You’re looking much better today. How do you feel?”
“Better. Nowhere near a hundred percent, but better. Grab a chair, let’s talk about what comes next.”
Derek nodded and scooted an armchair closer to the bed as Melville turned the television to mute.
“The doctors are saying I’ll be out in a week.”
“That’s great. What’s the recovery look like from that point?”
“They’ve said if I hold it to three or four hours a day I can work from home the first couple of weeks. Then they’ll reassess but they’re expecting I can go back full-time at that point.”
“Okay. That’s all workable. Do you want to talk about schedules and what we can plan from that point out?” Derek asked, feeling like his head was back in the game for the first time since that gunman had taken aim at Melville.
Melville shifted slightly on the bed, wincing in discomfort as he did.
“Derek, I think we need to talk bigger picture than that first.”
“Okay. Are you rethinking the bid for office? It would be perfectly understandable if you were, but I’ll tell you that I still think we can win this.”
Melville sighed. “And I appreciate that. You need to know that I have the greatest respect for your instincts and your talents. I wouldn’t be making this run if it weren’t for you encouraging me.”
Derek knew what was coming, even as the blood rushed through his head and the adrenaline spiked in his extremities. “But.”
Melville leveled a look at him. Both men knew what needed to be said and neither of them wanted to have to do it.
“I’ve been talking to my friend who runs the polling outfit. He’s run some quick and dirty surveys for me, and we’ve discovered that the shooting has actually swept a great deal of the negative image from the sex scandal away. If I apologize profusely, with Angela at my side, get counseling, that sort of thing, I think I can continue this campaign now, whereas before the shooting I don’t think I could have.”
Derek opened his mouth to agree wholeheartedly, but Melville raised his hand to silence him.
“But I think your affiliation with London has become too damaging.” As Derek began to snarl a response, Melville held up his hand again. “Just wait. I realize you only have an affiliation with her because of me.” He cleared his throat. “It was ill-advised on my part, and I know that none of us would be in this position if I’d kept it in my pants. But the fact is I can’t change that now.”
“So instead you’ll have me take the fall for you then dump me?” Derek gritted out.
“No. I’m hoping that since you’ve only done this to protect me you won’t have any problem dropping her. It’s time, Derek. Cut her loose, tell everyone how sorry you are for lying about her, then take me on to the White House.”
Derek stared at the man he’d thought could be President of the United States and blinked. He might not have breathed for a full minute before his lungs finally kicked back into action.
“And what happens to her?” he asked quietly when he’d regained his voice.
Melville shrugged. “I assume she goes back to her life. I’m not sure I really understand the question.”
“We’ve blown up her life. I realize you didn’t know this, but she’s had a double life. She’s been an upstanding, lunch and volunteer kind of woman. She had friends and colleagues who had no idea she was an escort all these years. Now everyone knows. She’s been outed and she can’t go anywhere without people recognizing her, in addition to the fact that until the police catch whoever shot at you she might not be safe.”
Melville looked marginally uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about that, but I’m not sure how continuing to be involved with us helps that. I mean sure, we can give her some security for a bit while the police figure this shooting out, but other than that? You can’t be seen with her anymore—I mean Jesus, Derek, they have a shot of you leaving her house at seven o’clock in the morning.”
Derek stood and began pacing. “If I’m around she’s got my protection in more ways than one. I can keep security on her, go places with her if she needs it, and continue to impress on the public that she’s no longer working as an escort.”
&nbs
p; Melville shook his head. “I admire your chivalry, and believe me, I know she’s gorgeous—”
Derek’s fist clenched and his eyes narrowed.
“—but you’re not lifting her up. She’s pulling you down. And when you sink, the whole campaign sinks with you. It’s time to cut our losses. You can salvage your career and the campaign, but only if you disassociate yourself from her for good.”
“No.”
“Come on, quit being so damn honorable. It’s not like she’s really your girlfriend. Did you start fucking her or something? I can’t blame you if you did, but seriously, there are plenty of other women—women who won’t destroy both of us—for you to sleep with, plus they won’t cost you a dime. I’ll introduce you to some. Angela’s got lots of single friends who are plenty friendly.”
Derek went cold, from head to toe, a frost that spread, from his ice chip eyes to his leaden feet. He walked back to Melville’s bed and leaned down, inches from the Senator’s face. His voice was soft, but deadly, and he saw the spark of fear that crossed Melville’s eyes.
“You don’t need to worry about firing me, Jason. You can consider this my resignation. I’ll expect my full severance pay within the next thirty days per the terms of our contract.”
“Shit. Derek, come on…”
Derek was already halfway to the door. He stopped and turned to look at Melville over his shoulder.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve never paid her. Never had to. And you won’t find another man in the country who can say the same. It’s a very exclusive club.”
“Goddammit, don’t do this, Derek!” Melville yelled as Derek walked out of the room.
By the time he reached the elevator he had his phone out and speed dial number one punched.
“Hi. Can you call everyone? We need to have a meeting.”
Kamal slammed a hand against the wood paneling of the Powerplay condo. The entire wall shook, and Derek thought briefly that it was lucky they didn’t have anything hanging there, it would have never survived.
“Are you out of your mind?” Kamal shouted.
“Take a breath friend,” Teague admonished mildly.
The instruction was meant for Kamal, but Derek followed the advice himself, breathing deeply before he answered.
“No, but I’m also no one’s patsy. I let Melville dictate to me like that and I’ve lost all credibility. Everyone knows that you don’t hire me to be your yes man. I’m a consultant, not an employee. No one tells me what the strategy should be, I tell them, and while I work with them on it, ultimately I decide. Or I walk. Which is what happened today.”
Scott rested a hip against the pool table and casually sent a red ball careening against a yellow one before stuffing his hands in his front pockets, adopting a very nonchalant pose. He looked like he could be a model in a men’s magazine, his blonde hair mussed, lean physique displayed to dapper perfection under his expensive dress shirt and designer tie.
“Obviously Derek feels strongly about this, Kamal. He’s a big boy, if he thinks Melville was pushing him in an untenable direction then we need to respect that.”
“Thank you.” Derek nodded sharply at Scott before turning back to Kamal. He hated fighting with his best friend, but if Kamal didn’t get his Egyptian spoiled rich kid under control things weren’t going to end well.
Kamal jabbed a finger into the air while glaring at Derek. “You’re daring to bring up your credibility? You’ve now told the entire world that you’re dating a hooker, that you lied to the American people, and that you’d abandon a candidate you purported to believe in while he’s lying in a hospital after an assassination attempt. And somehow you think by doing all of that you’re protecting your credibility? I repeat, have you lost your fucking mind?”
Teague, lounging on the sofa, both arms spread across the back, gave Derek a look of concern. “When he puts it like that…”
“Shut up,” Derek snarled. He knew Kamal had a well-reasoned argument, and his gut clenched at hearing it all laid out like that. But his heart knew that he’d do it all over again. He’d take any hit, endure any insult, quit any job, if it meant protecting London. That fact scared the shit out of him. And took the wind out of his sails.
He shook his head, feeling suddenly exhausted and sluggish. He just wanted to go to bed. Preferably with London.
“Okay, yes, when you put it like that. But I still can’t do what he wanted me to. I don’t think it’s the right thing, for the campaign or for me, and definitely not for London. If it were to get around that I’d let a client dictate to me like that I’d be fighting these types of battles for the next decade. My success depends on the candidates thinking I’m the expert. I lead, they follow, it’s as simple as that.”
Kamal leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression mutinous.
Teague stood and walked to the pool table where his jacket lay, picking it up and donning the perfectly tailored item.
“I agree. I’m in a similar business, Kamal, and you can’t let the clients start running the show, it’s like turning the asylum over to the inmates. So what’s done is done, and there’s no point crying over spilt milk. The press has a very short attention span. When they hear that Derek’s no longer with the campaign they’ll raise a fuss for a few days then move on. You—” he pointed at Derek, “are the one who’ll have to deal with the fallout from this, and it’ll be three months from now. I think you know that. I think you realize that you’re not going to have a waiting list for clients the way you have. You’re going to have to convince the party that you’re trustworthy again, and that might take some time.”
Scott grunted in agreement, and Derek nodded. As much as it hurt, he knew Teague was right. It was the price to be paid here, so he’d pay it.
“In the meantime, I’ll get with Melville’s attorney to make sure the contract terms are fulfilled. I’ve already contacted him to insist we issue a joint press release so that they can’t spin it in their favor. If I have to get Judge Fries to issue an injunction to prevent them from speaking to the press until we’ve settled the details then I’ll do that.”
“Thank you,” Derek told Teague. “But before you go, I’ve got something else.”
“You realize you’re being incredibly needy this month?” Scott asked, grinning.
Kamal scoffed from his corner where he continued to pout.
“Yes, thank you,” Derek answered. “But this matters, to all of us. It’s a point of pride, and also some insurance for the future.” He began to pace. “We still have the issue of who leaked all of this to the press, and we’re in possession of some really strange information about Williams. I don’t want to let that go. For one thing, Melville was shot. If this is related to that in any way we need to know. The police need to know. I don’t want the little fucker walking around the capital thinking he got away with bringing me down, or worse, trying to kill a United States Senator.”
Kamal pushed off the wall and moved to the bar where he poured himself a generous glass of vodka. “Finally, some sense.” He took a swig.
“Ah, the scent of revenge,” Teague joked. “Nothing wakes up your inner Ghazi like the blood of an enemy, huh?”
“My inner Ghazi might decide to take a little blood from you if you’re not careful,” Kamal snarled before turning to Derek. “We have too many threads leading to Williams for it to sit right with me. I think we need to make sure we know exactly what’s gone on or it may come back to bite us later.” He paused. “And I also think we should look into London again.”
Scott and Teague both groaned at the same time Derek went off the rails. “Goddammit! We’ve been over this and over it. She’s not a threat, she didn’t sell out Melville. I’ve offered her money, she turned me down. We’re not going to waste everyone’s time chasing after something that doesn’t exist.”
Kamal scowled, but kept his mouth shut.
“So, Williams,” Derek continued, rolling his neck to one side as it made a loud cracking sound.
>
“Why don’t I get one of my interns to stalk him?” Scott suggested. “I’ll tell him it’s part of an inside game, have him follow Williams around for a few days, see where he goes, who he talks to.”
Derek nodded, that would keep track of Williams for a few days while they followed the link between Nick Patterson and Williams. “That’s great. And I’m going to go directly to Nick. Sit down and simply ask him what business he’s got with Williams. No point in beating around the bush, and I’ve suddenly got some extra time on my hands.”
Teague opened the door before turning to face the rest of them. “As usual we’re leaving one of Derek’s meetings with plenty of extra work.” He winked. “Now, I don’t know about the rest of you assholes, but I’ve got a date, and she’s a lot more interesting than all of this.”
Derek grinned, and his mind flashed to an image of London sprawled naked in bed. “Meeting adjourned,” he barked before striding to the door right behind Teague.
Chapter 12
“Shall I park here, ma’am?” the security guard asked as London sat in the back seat of the car he drove for her.
“Yes. I’m not going in, I just, um, need to sit here for a few minutes.”
“Whatever you need ma’am. Take your time. I’ll get out and stretch my legs a bit.”
London silently thanked her obviously savvy guard for his discretion as he exited the car and leaned against the driver’s door, alert but also relaxed.
She looked across the street at the two-story townhouse with its ornate ironwork fence surrounding the front yard and the generous porch. Iron also formed a sweet Juliet balcony on the second floor. London looked up at the French doors that opened onto the balcony and remembered standing there in the evenings¸ watching people walk their dogs, children playing on the sidewalk, workers coming and going to the nearby trendy commercial district. It was a narrow residential street, but connected two larger thoroughfares so it got a fair amount of foot traffic.
The Kingmaker (Powerplay #1) Page 15