His Fall From Power

by Fawkes, Tasha

  “You think Hirsh is a threat?”

  “No. I think that Blythe blindly trusts people.”

  I almost snorted. If she blindly trusted people, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to get her to trust me.

  The car pulled up to the valet entrance of my office building. Thanking my driver, I opened the door and got out. Carl followed suit, and I sighed. “I’ll speak to Blythe about it tonight. I do want you to keep an eye on her, but I don’t want it to hamper her duties to the youth center. I’ll see if we can find a compromise. In the meantime, take the rest of the day off. You deserve it.”

  He nodded and turned to walk away, head bowed, shoulders looking like they carried the weight of the world.

  “Carl.” I waited until he faced me again. “Thank you for trusting me. I know how you feel about sharing things you learn on assignment. I’ll try not to put you in that position again.”

  Nodding, Carl gifted me with a rare smile and walked away. I was still trying to figure out how to approach Blythe in a way that she’d feel comfortable sharing her confrontation with Hirsh as I walked into my office.

  It wasn’t empty.

  Stopping at the doorway, I frowned and looked behind me. For the most part, my floor of staff members was open to anyone who could get through security, but nobody should be in my office. “I’m sorry. Can I help you?” I asked.

  The woman rose, her back still facing me. Tall and slender, she wore a cream-colored suit that contrasted with dark cropped curls. I was about to ask for her identity when her perfume hit me first.

  Jasmine. I’d only known one woman to wear jasmine.

  Out of habit, I glanced down at her hand and saw the emerald on her finger. My throat closed up, and when she turned to face me, I had to reach out and grab the doorframe to steady myself.

  “Hello, darling,” she said softly. “I hope you don’t mind. Your friend let me in.”

  “Donna.” I was surprised by how calm my voice was, and I closed the door behind me. She visibly flinched at the name, but I didn’t care. Sitting down my briefcase, I pushed the button to close the blinds around my office. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but I’m busy. If you want to speak to me, you’ll have to make an appointment.”

  “If you don’t plan on talking to me, then why are you closing your blinds so no one can see me?” Her voice was just as fine and sweet as I remembered. Without saying anything, I studied her. My mother had always been a beautiful woman. When she was still being my mother, she wore those thick curls almost down to her waist. She favored floral dresses over suits and strappy shoes over heels. Time had obviously changed that, or maybe she thought I’d accept her better dressed in a blazer.

  For years, people had told me how much I favored my father, but looking into my mother’s eyes, I saw my own reflected back at me. Emotions warred inside of me. The child wanted to demand to know why she left, but the adult in me wanted to play it cool and pretend that her absence in the last two decades hadn’t mattered. In a way, it didn’t. I made a success of myself, and she had nothing to do with that.

  “Son,” she whispered, “please speak to me.”

  “I already told you. I’m busy. If you want to speak to me, you’ll have to make an appointment.” I picked up my briefcase and walked to my desk to sit down. Leaning back in the chair, I looked at her, eyebrow raised.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you run me off. I realize that you don’t want to speak to me right now, but it is important that we talk. Maybe we could have lunch or even dinner. I’d love to have dinner with you, Jackson.”

  “I don’t.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t let her manipulate me like this. “Donna…”

  “Mother,” she said fiercely. “You may not respect me or even like me, but I’m still your mother, and you will respect that.”

  Standing, I slammed my hands on the top of the desk. “You left me,” I hissed. “And now you’re back. Right after my reelection. You’re not the first woman from my past to suddenly appear. I’m starting to find that suspicious. What exactly do you want from me, Donna? Do you need me because I’m Hale’s son? Is it money? Or do you need me because I’m a congressman?”

  “Neither.” Her eyes pleaded with me, but I refused to look away. “Oh, Jackson. I’m so sorry that this is happening to you. You have no idea how sorry I am. You’re not wrong. It’s no coincidence that I’ve come back now. I heard about Sherry. I’ve been following your career. I’ve been so proud, but then that lovely woman died, and I knew that I had to come back.”

  “You came back because a woman was killed?” Furious, I pushed away from my desk and started to pace. I didn’t even know where to start. “What about when I turned sixteen? Or when I graduated high school or college or law school? Why weren’t you here when I completed the bar? Or when I won my first election. You’re telling me that none of those things were important to you, but a dead woman who was trying to turn my life upside down warranted a return?”

  Pressing her fingers to her lips, she closed her eyes and shook her head. Tears slipped down her face. “You’re right. You’re right. I was scared. I thought…I have no excuses, Jack, and I don’t plan on making any. Just tell me that you’ll hear what I have to say, and then we can go from there. Please.”

  “Donna…”

  “Your father isn’t the man you think he is,” she blurted out before I could say anything more. “I think…I fear that he’s got a hand in your life, and it’s more destructive than you might think.”

  I froze. Was she trying to suggest that my father was the reason Sherry was dead? I wanted to immediately dismiss the idea. Hale was a bastard in many respects, but he was no killer.

  Silent, I watched her pull out a small white card and leave it on my desk. “This is my number and my hotel information. Call me, Jack. Even if you can’t forgive what I’ve done in the past, at least let me help you now.”

  She walked out, and I swallowed hard and stared at the card. It was a business card for the Marriot. Her phone and room numbers were scrawled on the bottom. Completely harmless, and yet I stared at it like it was a snake that might strike out and bite me.

  My mother who had fled over twenty years ago was back to warn me of my father.

  What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

  Fourteen

  Blythe

  Jack texted me to tell me that he was going to be late tonight, which was fine with me. I had an envelope full of pictures and no idea what to do with them. Despite what Hirsh suggested, I wasn’t about to take them to Jack. First, he’d be pissed to know that Hirsh was even contacting me, and second, I didn’t know what these pictures meant. What if these guys were connected to Jack in some way, and I was just adding fuel to the fire?

  Instead, I turned to the one person who I was certain could identify them. If these people were wealthy, famous, or important in some way, Rachel would know them. She lived for the elite gossip in Florida.

  She wanted to go out for dinner and drinks, but I didn’t want the pictures out in a public spot, so I convinced her to let me pick up dinner and a bottle of wine. By the time I got to her apartment, she was mollified but curious.

  “What’s so important that we can’t talk about in public? I wanted an excuse to check out Club Six. It looks super swanky.”

  I deliberately swept my gaze down her baggy sweats. “You look like you were prepared to go out.”

  “I’ve got my outfit all picked out in my head. Unfortunately, I don’t own it.” She sighed. “But still, what gives?”

  “Food first. Food and wine. Then we’ll talk. I need something on my stomach before I have to look at the pictures again.”

  “Pictures?” Her eyes lit up with delight. “Well, what are you waiting for? You know where the plates are. I’m going to get started on the wine.”

  Ten minutes later, we were munching on our chicken dinners and were already halfwa
y through the wine. I emptied the bottle as I topped off our glasses and pulled out the envelope. Quickly, I explained what Hirsh had said.

  She stared at me. “Hirsh approached you in an empty parking lot while he was stinking drunk? Jack must have hit the roof when he found out.”

  Uncomfortable, I shifted. “I haven’t told him,” I admitted.

  “What?” she squeaked. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “No. I’m thinking logically. Jack is a suspect in a murder investigation. What do you think he’s going to do if he finds out that Hirsh pulled a stunt like that?”

  “Beat him black and blue. Oh.” Rachel made a face. “Right.”

  “Yeah. Right. I don’t think Hirsh wants to hurt me physically, but I can’t discount the idea that he might target Jack to hurt me. I need to figure out what these pictures mean without him. Will you help me?”

  Rolling her eyes, Rachel shook her head. Her curls swayed with the movement. “You ask some stupid questions sometimes. So, you said that her ex-boyfriend is an artist?”

  “Quincy Reed.”

  “Oh. Man, he’s a hottie. Not that I like Sherry, but the girl had good taste. First, she let Jack slip through her fingers and then Reed? She’s not too bright, is she? So, his heart was breaking when he thought his girl was stepping out…” She tapped her bottom lip with her finger while she clearly thought through all the scenarios.

  I nodded. “And he hired a PI who took these pictures. He has his proof. He kicks her out. But there’s something about these guys that Hirsh seems to think I’ll find interesting. The thing is, I don’t recognize any of these people.” Taking a deep breath, I pulled the pictures from the envelope.

  Some of them were extremely explicit. I’d never met Sherry, but thanks to these pictures, I now knew her down to the skin. And I also had images of other men’s naked bodies burned in my brain.

  It was more than a little distasteful.

  “Oh geez.” Rachel’s eyes widened as she flipped the photo. She paled. “Oh geez. Oh geez. Oh my god.”

  “Rachel?” Her breathing had become a little erratic. “Rachel, are you okay?”

  Quickly, she dropped the photos like they were burning her. “I’m going to forgive you for not knowing who these people are because you don’t really follow politics, but Blythe, this is a ticking bomb just waiting to explode. I don’t know if I want to help you or tell you to burn the photos and pretend that you’ve never seen them. “

  Eagerly, I scooted to the edge of the couch. “Rachel, will these pictures help prove that Jack is innocent?”

  “This certainly widens the pool of suspects.” She shook her head and picked through the pictures. “Okay, I don’t know who some of these guys are, but I recognize these three. Roger Felton is the mayor of Tallahassee. Scott Bayford is the majority leader of the Florida Senate, and Joseph Cannon is the Speaker of the Florida House.”

  I stared at her. “How do you know this?”

  “You’d be surprised at what I learn when I’m transcribing records,” she said dryly. “That is not the point. Sherry was screwing some major players in Florida’s government. Chances are good that these other people are involved as well. I don’t think she wanted Jack back because she missed him. I think she figured she might try to bag a congressman.”

  That didn’t make sense. “But she already did. Jack was elected just a couple of months before they broke up. If she was looking for another notch in her bedpost, she shouldn’t have circled back around to him.”

  “Weird. Well, I think we should get the names of these other guys. Got any ideas?”

  Leaning back on the couch, I munched on the last of my fries and picked up my glass of wine. Hirsh was fairly certain that Jack could identify most of them, which meant that David probably could as well. Even my father might know them. The problem was that David would probably turn around and tell Jack, and I didn’t really want to involve my father.

  “The ex might know. And even if he doesn’t, he will at least know the name of the PI he’d hired. The investigator would definitely know. They get paid for that kind of thing.”

  “Sure.” Rachel nodded and pulled her feet up under her. Sipping at her own wine, she regarded me over the rim of the glass. “We’ll just get in touch with the artist who avoids the public like the plague and ask him about the investigator that he’d hired to follow the woman who broke his heart. I imagine that plan will go very smoothly.”

  I glared at her. I wasn’t in the mood to have someone pick holes in my brilliant idea. “My other plan was to hire an investigator myself, but that takes money, and after this dinner, I’ll be relegated to ramen for the rest of the week.”

  “Your boyfriend is loaded.”

  “My boyfriend is not supposed to know anything about the plan.”

  “Right.” She ran her fingers along her bright green sweat pants before she brightened. “Actually, I think the first plan might work. Reed is a very private person, but he’s also rumored to be very charitable.”

  I groaned.

  “No, hear me out. You run a charity. You need money. Email him and tell him about the art center. That’s right up his alley. You might even get him to volunteer.”

  “Rachel, I can’t use my charity to entrap a man. That’s wrong.”

  “It’s killing two birds with one stone.”

  “It’s deceptive.”

  “Blythe.” Rachel sighed. “You’re in the middle of a story with murder and politics and intrigue. Deception is the name of the game.”

  She had a point, but I just couldn’t do it. “We need to talk to him, but I don’t want to lie. I’ll think it over. It’s not like we can call him tonight.”

  “I can’t even be mad. I love that you’re so sweet. So where’s your honey pie tonight? You two have been inseparable the past few nights. You’ve been whistling in the morning. It’s weird. You’re not a morning person.”

  “I’m happy.” I smiled and hugged myself. “It feels wrong. Someone shot Jack’s ex-girlfriend, and a few nights ago I was practically sobbing on the floor thinking that everything was over, but it’s not. Jack and I are so good, and I’m happy.”

  “I’m glad that you’re happy, sweetie. I really am. God knows that if anyone deserves it, it’s you, but Jack will hit the roof if he finds out you’re keeping something from him. You have a point, so I’m not encouraging you to tell him, but I am saying that you better be prepared. Eventually, you’ll have to share.”

  “I know.” I didn’t relish that conversation. “But it’s to keep him safe. I want this over and done with.”

  “I’m right there with you.” Rachel grinned wickedly. “I’ve got another bottle of wine, and I so want to dish about Carl. Text Jack and see if he can pick you up tonight so you can get a little sloppy with me.”

  A night of wine and girl talk with Rachel followed by bed with Jack?

  It sounded perfect.

  Fifteen

  Blythe

  “Whoa. Easy.”

  I stumbled just a little, and Jack caught me. With a sigh, I looped my arms around his neck and nuzzled him. We were in the middle of his parking garage, which wasn’t the most romantic place in the world, but I loved him, and I wanted to love him.

  “Oh, Christ, Blythe.” He released a strangled laughed and picked me up. “I think things might go a little faster if I just carry you.”

  “Hmm, I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby. At least now I know what to expect when you ask me to pick you up from girl’s night. Just how much did you have to drink?”

  “A bottle of wine. Half red. Half white.”

  “I didn’t realize that they made wines that were half red and half white.”

  Giggling, I kicked out my feet a little bit, and Jack managed to get me into the elevator and lean against the wall. “Sweetie, can you grab the card from my pocket and swipe it.”

  “Which pocket?” I asked huskily as I reached for his pants.

  “Ja
cket pocket,” he muttered. “Jacket pocket, Blythe.”

  With a sigh, I fished out the card and leaned over to swipe it over the sensor. The doors closed and began the rise to the penthouse. “Two bottles,” I explained as I latched my arms back around his neck and stared at him. “One white. One red. The white wasn’t enough, so we had the red.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  He looked haggard. I knew he’d had a long day at the office, but I thought I saw something else brewing beneath the surface. Maybe it was because I was looking at him through the filtered lens of a bottle of wine. Maybe it was because I was keeping a secret of my own.

  The doors opened, and he carried me through. “You want a shower or bed?”

  “Either one gets you naked, right?”

  He chuckled as he eased me on the bed. “I’m definitely getting naked, but I suspect that you’re about the pass out soon. Although seeing you drunk does bring back fond memories.”

  “Yeah?” I closed my eyes as he started pulling off my shoes and socks. “Oh, yeah. I was drunk the first time I met you. Vodka drunk. Not wine drunk. There’s a difference.”

  “Is there?” He unsnapped the button of my jeans. “Lift your hips.”

  “Vodka makes me confrontational. Wine makes me…” I bobbed my eyebrows at him, “sexy.”

  He grinned. “It makes you sexy, or it makes you feel sexy?”

  I pouted. What was he trying to say? Lifting my hips, I did an experimental wiggle as he peeled the jeans down my hips and thighs. “That wasn’t sexy?”

  “It was very sexy,” he assured me. “I like wine-drunk Blythe.”

  “More than vodka-drunk Blythe?”

  “No.” Leaning over me, he smiled and kissed me softly. His kisses still made my heart flutter. “You wouldn’t be in my bed if it weren’t for vodka-drunk Blythe, so I’m grateful to her.”

  “No.” Annoyed, I tapped him on the chest. “Please don’t tell people that our relationship began because I was drunk on vodka. It was more romantic than that. There were candle-light dinners and long walks at night and sexy dancing and sex in the limo.” I frowned. “No, scratch the last part. That’s not romantic.”