“I give a million fucking dollars to your little club and this is how you return the favor?” Sebastian pointed to Lizzy. “You bribe one of my employees into becoming a fucking spy so you can be the first person to implement AI in the stock market?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bertie sputtered as he rubbed his face.
“Roland came begging me for money since Manuel’s accounts were frozen. Said it was for that club you talked about starting at the Tech Ball three years ago. The one you wouldn’t let me join. The one Roland, Sandra Cummings, and the Stanworths were a part of. Don’t play fucking dumb, Bertie, it’s beneath you.”
Bertie slowly smiled. “You’re such a sore loser. You always have been. You just couldn’t stand the fact you weren’t included when Mrs. Mitchell approached me about this. You know, she told me all about your friend Stratton being picked for VP. He was supposed to be locked out of the government, but then Winston Mitchell went toes up. Did it bother you that we shut you out like we did your friend? Does it bother you we took that money from you, and you’ll never make it in the inner circle? How does it feel that I took your trusted employee and bought the bitch with my first offer? You should pay your employees better, Sebastian. Soon I’ll be sitting here with billions more than you. The stock market is opening soon, and my AI is ready to go. Is yours?” Bertie laughed as he leaned against his desk and crossed his arms.
Lizzy stood up slowly, ready to leap on Sebastian if he let his temper win out. He looked ready to blow the whole operation to get even with Bertie.
“Is that what this whole stupid group is about? What was the idiotic name you chose for it?” Sebastian pretended to think about it. “Mollia Domini, that’s it. So Mollia Domini isn’t about change like you preached at the Tech Ball, is it? It’s about making you money and keeping me in second place. Is that it? You did all of this to best me, since you knew I was coming for you? You’re pathetic, Bertie.”
Bertie’s face flushed with anger as he stepped forward. “You know what’s pathetic, Sebastian? The fact that you fell for it. Manuel made sure the money you sent for your resorts paid for the same bomb that almost killed Stratton. So I would run if I were you, Sebastian. Because while we hid it, we made sure eventually they’d find the connection. Then you openly gave Roland a million dollars, who will claim you personally put a hit on Stratton since the bomb failed. A hit my assassin will be carrying out shortly.”
“You have an assassin?” Lizzy gasped as she stumbled back in faux fear.
“Yes, my dear. He’ll be arriving shortly from overseas. Rue, handle this.” Bertie waved his hand in her direction. Rue stood from the couch and stalked toward her. She put a chair between them as Bertie and Sebastian ignored them. Their sole focus was on each other.
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “I’ll tell them it was you.”
Bertie laughed. “No one will believe you. Not when all the evidence points back to you. Dance, puppet.”
“Wait!” Lizzy screamed as Rue lunged. She darted around the chair to stand next to Sebastian, who didn’t even bother to look at her.
“Ready to beg for your life?” Rue taunted.
“Dan March!” she shouted.
Rue and Bertie froze.
“Excuse me?” Bertie asked slowly.
“Your assassin. Is it my ex-boyfriend? I swear I’ve caught glimpses of him since he was supposed to be dead. Please, tell me I’m not crazy,” Lizzy begged. Sebastian finally looked at her with curiosity.
Bertie gleefully smiled. “So, Dan has been keeping tabs on you? Maybe I should save you for him to handle?”
“I’m sorry,” Lizzy said, blubbering as Rue approached her. “Dan’s not coming.” Her blubbering stopped, and she winked at Sebastian before taking Rue down with an uppercut that sent his head snapping up and his eyes rolling back. Before Bertie could scream, Lizzy turned to him. “Bertie Geofferies, FBI. You’re under arrest for treason.”
Bertie tried to run, but Sebastian snatched him by the neck and squeezed. “Going somewhere?”
Lizzy slipped a zip tie from her pocket and tied his hands behind his back. “Dance, puppet,” she whispered, shoving him toward the office door.
“Call my lawyer, Stan Detrick,” Bertie told his secretary with authority as he was pushed through the hall of his office. If he thought Stan Detrick would be able to wrangle him off the hook, he was badly mistaken. Stan wasn’t in his office at the moment. Roland said Bertie kept everything written down, and as agents swarmed the scene, arresting Rue and tearing apart every inch of the room, Lizzy knew it was only a matter of time before the book Roland described was found.
The elevator doors opened, and Lizzy handed Bertie off to Special Agent in Charge Cromwell. She stood in the background as Cromwell pushed Bertie forward. Reporters were being held back at the bottom of the steps leading into Bertie’s building. The second elevator opened and a pissed-off Rue was shoved forward. Right as the front door opened, Sebastian called out. “By the way, Bertie, your wife’s pregnant with Trip’s baby.”
Cameras flashed at Bertie’s look of outrage as he was dragged through the door and to the waiting car with Rue threatening everyone he could, including his stepmother and her unborn child. Lizzy shook her head and looked to where Sebastian had an amused smile on his face.
“You just had to do that, didn’t you?”
“You bet your ass I did.” Sebastian turned to her and held out his hand. “Well, Lizzy, it’s been a pleasure working with you. I look forward to working with you again.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Lizzy said with a slow grin.
“See, I’m not such a bad guy. Am I?”
“That’s still undecided. But know I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Just as I keep an eye on the world.” He winked and sauntered off.
Son of a bitch. “It was you the whole time, wasn’t it?” Lizzy called out.
Sebastian turned with a look of exaggerated innocence. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked, walking back to her and stopping inches from her. His body radiated casualness that only came from a man who knew his own power. He looked down and smiled knowingly at her. Her stomach flipped and blood rushed to her cheeks at his devouring look.
“You were the biggest puppetmaster of them all,” she said as the realization set in. “You knew what Bertie was up to, and either for amusement or because you really were mad about being excluded, you turned the tables on him. You gave him the strings to pull, not the other way around. You didn’t have me spy for you, you were giving me a string to follow. You gave Trip a string to Vivian. You introduced Manuel to Roland. You were pulling the strings the entire time.”
Sebastian leaned down slowly with a predatory tilt of his lips that flashed a hit of white teeth. He cupped her face with his hand and ran his thumb lightly over her bottom lip leaving a trail of tingling heat. “If that were true, then I’d have you in my bed right now, and Birch would have never been in danger.”
“Even the great Sebastian Abel can’t control everything.”
“We’ll see,” he said before slowly placing his lips against hers for a kiss so brief she thought she’d imagined the caress of his lips. Sebastian dropped his hand, sent her a wink, and sauntered off down the hall. Lizzy watched as he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and pressed a button before putting his phone back in his pocket. A second later her cellphone buzzed.
* * *
President Stratton Helps the FBI Bring Down Terror Ring Lead by Billionaire Bertie Geofferies.
An exposé by Flint Scott
* * *
Lizzy read the headline twice before looking up to see Sebastian walk out the side door. The door closed, and Lizzy finally took a breath. Looking down, she read the article that laid out Bertie’s desire for more power and his AI to take billions from the people after the planned attacks on the exchanges.
Flint told about a secret group of agents and military personnel han
dpicked by the president to chase down the powerful and elite members of Mollia Domini. Birch would be declared a hero now. The article read of his heroism at standing up to people who were trying to destroy the office of the presidency, of protecting civilians from the lies they were being told, of Tate’s sacrifice to save Birch’s life during the explosion, and of the secret group’s daring and life-risking missions . . . all without naming or identifying a single person on her team.
Two things were clear. Sebastian was the ultimate puppetmaster, and he’d done everything he could to keep Birch and innocent people safe. The remorse and pain exhibited in the article, talking about the loss of life and Birch’s injuries from the bombing, weren’t Flint’s words. They were Sebastian’s. The article even stated the country would be a worse place if President Stratton weren’t in it, the exact same thing Sebastian had said when he had found out about the bombing at the restaurant. Son of a bitch, Flint had been a string Sebastian had planted for them to use. Lizzy shook her head and went back to reading.
The article continued with those whose lives were given in sacrifice to protect Americans’ rights. A long part of it focused on Jason and Michelle Wolski, bringing tears to her eyes as the article showed a picture of Birch saluting Jason’s flag-draped coffin in front of lines of the wounded soldiers he and Michelle had helped.
The article ended with thanks given to those nameless heroes who helped protect the country and information that witnesses were already lined up to testify against Bertie Geofferies.
Looking at the door Sebastian had left through, Lizzy had to wonder, who was Sebastian Abel?
* * *
It had been forty-five minutes since Flint’s article had rocked the world. Tate had left immediately upon seeing it. There was something she had to see done, and she was the only person who could do it.
Tate balanced on her crutches as she raised her hand to knock on the cheery yellow door to the small ranch house on the quiet suburban street. The house was surrounded with brightly blooming flowers, a swing for an infant, and a little red wagon sitting on the sidewalk.
The door opened and a woman in her late fifties opened the door with a baby on her hip.
“Mrs. Bristol, I’m Tate Carlisle, and I was friends with your daughter, Sheila, and son-in-law, Joel Davidson.” Tate saw the women’s smile slip. “We need to talk. I have information about your daughter’s death and how your son-in-law helped bring down the ring currently being arrested for treason against the government.”
Mrs. Bristol looked down at her grandson and back to Tate. “Joel killed Sheila. That’s what the police told us.”
“Ma’am, your son-in-law died a hero, and I believe you have the right to know what really happened the night your daughter died.”
With tears streaming down her face, Mrs. Bristol stepped back, and Tate hobbled inside.
34
“I swear,” Roland Westwood promised before lowering his hand and taking a seat in the packed courtroom. The trial against Bertie Geofferies was going into the fourth week, but Roland was the last witness to be called for the state.
Jeff Sargent, Branson Ames, Gene Rankin, Thurmond Culpepper, FBI Director Kirby, Senator Epps, and the former first lady were some of the people who had testified. Lawyers were advising Bertie to take a plea deal since Gene pointed to Stan Detrick, Bertie’s lawyer who had suddenly come back from a vacation looking pale and tired, as the one who threatened his family. On the third day of the trial, the state produced evidence of Stan buying the burner phone he’d given to Gene. It got worse when Sandra’s dead body was found hanging in Bertie’s house in Bulgaria with papers scattered around her. Papers that connected Bertie and Rue to the Stanworth deaths and Mollia Domini.
In the six months since Bertie had been arrested, Birch had pardoned Gene, honored Jeff Sargent and Joel Davidson, and posthumously awarded Brock, Jason, and Michelle the Presidential Medal of Freedom after giving the young officer who had saved Tate a medal as well.
“Ugh, turn it off,” Valeria complained as she looked up from her laptop.
Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Don’t you want to see this?”
“See it? We lived it.”
“Fine,” Lizzy said, turning off the television over the bar. “How is your lesson plan going for the new class of trainees starting off the New Year?”
“I swear, if one more trainee calls me ma’am, I’m going to fucking snap,” Valeria swore. Janet had offered her a job as a higher-up in the DEA, but Val had turned it down. While it hadn’t been talked about, the group was sticking together. They were family after all. So instead of more shootouts, Val was now training the next generation of DEA agents at their academy in Quantico . . . for now.
“Don’t worry, girlie, you’re still younger than we are,” Buzz laughed from his usual seat next to Snip.
“Hey, where’s your grandson? He promised to teach me how to fly a helicopter,” Lizzy asked Buzz. Lizzy had taken to running the bar full-time and teaching one interrogation class at the FBI’s academy in the newly built Lance James wing, thanks to an anonymous donor.
“Crew’s on call. He’s taking the president and that sweet little Tate somewhere.” Buzz wiggled his bushy eyebrows and Lizzy tossed a meaningful look to Valeria, who was already smiling.
Birch and Tate were trying to keep their relationship as normal as possible. They didn’t answer questions about it to the media during “office hours,” only when caught out on dates. After Flint’s exposé, the public was dying for a White House wedding. Instead, they were dating and working hard on cleaning up the mess Bertie had left behind.
The exchanges were recovering, the economy stabilizing, and Birch was moving on to his own domestic and foreign policies. Life was moving forward.
“When are those usurpers coming home?” Snip asked about Dalton and Grant. Buzz and Snip still hadn’t forgiven them for taking the women they’d picked out for their grandsons.
“They arrived last night,” Lizzy told them with a smile as she looked at the diamond ring on her finger. They were getting married in June, and Val was going to be her maid of honor. They’d been planning the wedding while Dalton and Grant had been stationed in Alaska for the past month, training their replacements in Arctic rescue and survival. Right before leaving, they were sent to help rescue a downed spy plane in Russia’s Arctic zone before the Russians found them. After bringing the pilot home and destroying the spy plane so the Russians couldn’t get any information from it, Dalton and Grant had officially been honorably discharged from the Air Force.
“They’re meeting with the bank in charge of liquidating Jason and Michelle’s estate right now,” Valeria explained.
“What for?” Snip asked.
“You know how important Jason was to them and they want to buy the grounds to make sure the wounded veterans continue to have a place to recover. They want Jason and Michelle’s legacy to live on,” Lizzy said with a touch of sadness. The Wolskis had been victims in all of this, and the pain still continued as the veterans who had depended on Jason and Michelle’s camp fell through the cracks.
The door to the bar flew open and Dalton and Grant stomped inside. “Speak of the usurpers,” Snip teased.
“What’s the matter?” Lizzy asked as they watched the men angrily yank off their coats. Their eyes were narrowed, their jaws were clenched, and their movements jerky in their anger.
“The bank sold Jason’s land already,” Dalton answered as he let out a frustrated sigh.
“What? They knew you wanted to buy it,” Lizzy said worriedly.
“We didn’t have enough cash to hold it before we left for Alaska. We were told the property wasn’t going to be put on the market for a couple of months since the estate was still in probate,” Grant explained before he kissed Valeria’s head and took a seat next to her at the bar.
“So we scrapped and saved everything we had and went with the good faith deposit today, only to be told the bank sold it for all cash two weeks ago,
” Dalton finished.
“Dude, that sucks,” Alex said from where he was working on his computer. He was probably chatting with Roxie who had to go back to England for her last year at university.
“I’m so sorry.” Lizzy took Dalton into a hug and kissed him gently. “This won’t stop us from doing what’s right. We’ll start looking for properties tomorrow. We’ll find something.”
Dalton squeezed her tight and took a deep breath. “I know something perfect will come along. I have you by my side, what else do I need?”
* * *
Birch held Tate’s nude body against his as they drifted off to sleep. He looked down and smiled at the new ring she wore on her hand. He’d never imagined he’d be married again, let alone to someone as wonderful as Tate. Even though he knew she’d say yes when he had Crew fly them out to Camp David, it still seemed like a shock when she nodded her head up and down and threw her arms around him. With shaky hands, he had slipped the diamond ring onto her finger.
The second they’d made it back to the White House, word had spread that Tate was wearing a very important ring on her finger. In less than five minutes, Humphrey was knocking on the door with a list of dignitaries who must be invited to the wedding. Tate had laughed and used her foot to close the door on him.
At that moment, Humphrey was probably downstairs planning their whole wedding and they’d only arrived back to DC four hours before. A knock sounded at the door and Birch groaned. “Go away, Humphrey!”
Tate’s brow wrinkled in her sleep as if she too were annoyed by the interruption.
“I’m sorry, but it’s important,” came Humphrey’s excited voice.
“Give me a minute,” Birch called, waking Tate up in the process.
Shattered Lies Page 26