by Shayla Black
“Like that’s a surprise,” Gabe returned. “I’m so glad my wife works at Crawford. If she looked into Bond’s security, I would never hear the end of her horror about our lax cyber-safety protocols.”
Their voices were drifting closer. Shit. This was it.
Mad took another long drink to quell his anxiety. The Scotch was excellent. It was so fucking good to be back in civilization, back to familiar things. Freddy had the world’s cheapest tastes, mostly because he lived his entire life off the grid and on the run from whatever happened to be chasing him that week. Mad had deeply missed indoor toilets, and right now he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a real bed, take a hot shower, and forget about the rest of world for a while.
It’s going to be okay. The guys would be happy to see him, right? They were his best friends…whom he’d lied to and walked out on and gotten one of their sisters pregnant before viciously dumping her in a very public way.
Who was he kidding? They were going to make this hurt.
“Gabe, wait,” Zack said. “I should tell you something. All of you. We have a visitor. I need to explain.”
This was the tactic they’d decided on during their ride out to Camp David, the president’s playground, as some in the press had dubbed the sprawling estate in rural Maryland where a president could always be assured of privacy. A month after Zack had been inaugurated, he and all the guys had come out here, sat around a fire to talk about Joy and everything Zack had lost on his way to victory.
How did he explain everything now that the losses were stacking up and amounted to far greater than any of them had imagined?
“Okay. Let me set this down, and you can tell me about our visitor. But it better not be a stripper. I’m a married man now. Everly would kick my—” Gabe walked around the corner, then stopped in the opening of the great room, his jaw dropping.
“Hi.” Mad wasn’t sure what else to say.
Of all his friends, leaving Gabe had hurt the most. They hadn’t exactly drifted apart the way so many friends did after college and relationships and high-powered jobs. They’d stuck together through it all. Not that he wasn’t attached to them all, but Dax spent most of his time on a ship. Connor’s location had been classified for the last decade. Roman and Zack had always been on the campaign trail. But Gabe Bond had been by his side day in and day out for decades.
Dax entered behind Gabe, Connor on his heels. They all stood frozen and mute.
Mad cleared his throat. “Gabe, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. You have no idea how often I’ve wanted to call you these last months.”
When Gabe didn’t answer, Mad swallowed tightly. How had he ever thought this would be easy? He’d anticipated that seeing Sara again would be wrenching and painful, but somehow he’d fooled himself about this reunion with his friends. For the last four months, he’d done nothing but dream of this moment. He’d envisioned himself as the white knight riding in to save everyone, so in his head they’d all been so freaking happy he wasn’t dead that they instantly forgave him.
There wasn’t an ounce of forgiveness in Gabe’s eyes as he crossed the space between them. Fuck. Zack had been right. He was about to die.
Mad began backing away. “Now, Gabe…”
Gabe wasn’t hearing it. He simply reared a fist back and punched him squarely in the face. Unlike the Russians from the night this ordeal had started, Gabe wasn’t trying to be conscientious or careful about where his blow landed. Those professionals had left his face intact so he could make public appearances without raising brows. Oh, he’d pissed blood for a week, but his mug had been perfectly beautiful.
That would not be the case today. Already, his nose stung and throbbed like a bitch. He hoped it wasn’t broken.
“You asshole,” Gabe growled, teeth bared.
“Well, I called that.” Connor stood back, shaking his head. “I knew he wasn’t really dead.”
“You didn’t call anything,” Dax argued. “Gabe, don’t kill him—yet. I want an explanation first.”
“And I’d love a couple of pounds of flesh.” Roman tossed his jacket aside, looking ready to join the fray.
Thanks to Freddy, Mad had picked up some new moves. He hadn’t spent his whole time in hiding merely learning Russian and how to use an outhouse. Now he ducked and bobbed out of range, even though he had two sides to protect. “Look, I’m willing to take one punch. I deserved it from Gabe. But Roman, I will fight back.”
“I have a cat because of you. A freaking cat. There’s an entire cat shelter in the UK I now have to maintain.” Roman grumbled like getting a feline companion was the worst thing that could happen to a man.
“You also have a fiancée,” Mad pointed out, fists still raised to protect his face. “You’re welcome.”
Roman and Augustine Spencer would never have gotten together if it hadn’t been for his meddling. Not that Roman deserved her.
“And I have a sister who cries every night.” Gabe fisted his hands at his sides, his face mottled with emotion.
The idea of Sara crying kicked Mad in the gut. “I know you won’t believe me, but I did this for her. And for you. For Everly. Hell, for all of us. Punch me later. But listen to me now. We’re in trouble, Zack especially.”
That leeched the rage out of the room.
“Mad and I had a chat on the way up here. He wanted to call a meeting. It seems that while he was on the ‘other side,’ he learned a thing or two about our Russian adversaries,” Zack said.
Connor stared pointedly at Thomas, who stood inside the door. The rest of Zack’s detail patrolled the grounds. “Should we talk right now?”
Zack shrugged. “Thomas is a plant and has been for some time. We can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know.”
“He’s not a plant in the way you think.” They were going to be difficult. “He’s on your side, just like I am. Thomas was in the military with the guy who helped me plan my “death” and caught on to the conspiracy before anyone else. That guy, along with Matthew Kemp and Thomas, made sure the Russians didn’t embed anyone else in the president’s detail. We’ve already identified two sleeper agents working for the White House and denied them access. We believe there are at least three more who were actively spying on the president and his staff.”
“That’s not…” Roman stopped. “Holy shit, is that why I lost Janice? She up and quit because she said she needed to ‘find herself.’ She didn’t look lost to me.”
“No, but she decided to find her way back to Europe after we threatened to expose her ass,” Mad explained. “And Thomas took care of the Secret Service agent they managed to plant.”
Thomas stood at attention, staring ahead at no one in particular.
Zack stepped into his line of vision. “Is this true?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve been investigating quietly. We couldn’t afford to stir too much, and we’re not entirely sure who we can trust,” Thomas replied, his voice deep but efficient. “I managed to ferret out the agent in your detail and the woman who ran the background checks that allowed him to get through. After some…persuasion, she was very helpful in letting us know who she’d placed, as well as where she and her handlers intended to target next. But we still don’t know about people here for a while, especially those embedded in your campaign staff.”
“Shit.” Roman’s shoulders slumped. “I want every bit of information you’ve got. If it involved our staff, I need to know.”
Zack stood in front of the man who’d been his protector since he’d taken the oath of office. “Who are you loyal to?”
“I am loyal to the United States of America and to the office of the President,” Thomas replied.
But not to Zack Hayes. Mad groaned. He’d hoped Thomas would play this with more finesse, but he should have known the man was too much of a straight-shooter to tap dance around the truth.
After a moment of silence, Zack held out his hand. “That’s what I needed to know. If ever there comes a time that I, for an
y reason, compromise this office, I expect you to do your job.”
“I will, sir. But this evening, I’ll do it from outside. You six have some talking to do,” the agent said with a hint of a smile. “I’ve informed the detail that this is a boys’ weekend. They will be appropriately discreet.”
Thomas stepped outside. Then Mad was alone with his friends again.
The time had come to tell them everything, but he had to start with the worst news of all, the news that would shake them to their very core. News that should only be disclosed in mixed company.
“I know you planned an all-boys weekend, but you should call in the women. They’re involved, too. The reason I’m back now is that there’s a clear and present danger to the president’s life. Zack, someone is planning to assassinate you.”
Chapter Two
Elizabeth Matthews was having a hell of a day, but then they all seemed long lately.
“We’ve got fifteen requests for interviews,” Vanessa said as they headed down the hall. “Three from CNN alone. There’s apparently a story circulating that Zack is going to open talks with European officials about the natural gas pipeline. The BBC says it has some notes from the meeting with the prime minister last month.”
“They’re fishing.” It would hardly be the first time a reporter alluded to some mysterious record or informant, only to reveal it was a carefully baited trap. Liz refused to fall for that. Hell, she’d practically invented the game. No way was she officially commenting on that damn pipeline. It was a land mine they’d collectively stepped on and barely managed to avoid detonating in their faces on a recent trip to London. Now, they were all standing as still as they could, trying to find a way to avoid the damning explosion. “And it’s President Hayes, please.”
Vanessa frowned, yet somehow managed to make the expression look pretty. Then again, the woman had been blessed with shiny dark hair and a pouty mouth that could grace the cover of a magazine. And Liz supposed when one was barely twenty-four, it was hard to look haggard.
“When did we get so formal?” the press office admin asked.
Liz wondered if Vanessa would catch Zack’s eye at some point. It was blatantly obvious the man was done with her, so why wouldn’t he start looking at the lovely, intelligent women who worked around him? Until now, he’d dated high-profile figures, but she knew Zack. He would eventually want someone in his sphere.
“Since we went to London, and I realized your behavior could be more professional. If the president doesn’t mind you calling him Zack in private, that’s your business. Otherwise, he’s to be referred to as President Hayes or Mr. President.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened. Liz wondered if her associate knew how on edge she felt.
“All right,” the young woman said. “So does the president or the White House have an official stance on the natural gas pipeline?”
Just the thought of that pipeline sent a shiver down Liz’s spine. Someone powerful in Russia wanted that pipeline killed, and they were willing to play very dirty to get their way. Of course, Liz didn’t have all the facts. She wasn’t an insider. But she did know the president—and those around him—had been threatened with blackmail if he didn’t shelve the project and allow Russia to continue their stranglehold on the natural gas supply in Europe.
“At this point, the president is weighing all the options. The pipeline is an important issue, so he’s talking to the head of the Energy Department and his advisors about how to proceed. We’re waiting on several reports regarding the environmental and economic impacts. The United States will proceed in a thoughtful way around this very important issue. That’s all you need to say. If the reporters choose to show these so-called notes they found, it’s a free world.”
She’d spent a lot of time thinking about the events that unfolded in England. Professionally speaking, how could she think about anything else except the fact that Zack—President Hayes—had been forced to shelve plans to announce the pipeline because of the blackmail threats? Worse, she’d been the one to find that envelope detailing all the ways the blackmailer could bring down every single member of Zack’s inner circle. The perpetrator had left it on her bed.
Liz remembered clearly the moment she’d walked into the bedroom she’d been assigned while in London and seen it coiled there like a snake. Even before she’d opened the envelope, she’d known something malicious awaited.
She’d asked herself one question over and over: Why had the blackmailer left the threat in her room. Why not someone else’s?
Of course, Liz was asking herself a lot of other questions these days, too. Why was she even still here? When she’d tried to quit her job, Zack had refused to accept her resignation—which made no sense. She couldn’t breathe anymore, not since the day she’d realized Zack had lost whatever interest he’d had in her that magical afternoon in Memphis, before the nightmare of Joy’s murder. Now, he’d moved on entirely. Why wouldn’t he let her do the same?
“Liz?”
She blinked, then realized she was in the middle of the press office, Vanessa staring with a concerned expression that said Liz had been standing there for a while. “Sorry, lost in thought. What were you saying?”
“She was saying she’ll handle it and you don’t have to worry about a thing,” a familiar voice cut in. Augustine Spencer stood in the doorway wearing one of her power suits and sky-high heels, brow raised. “After all, it’s part of her job.”
“Of course, Ms. Spencer. I will ensure everyone who needs our response has it.” Vanessa tossed her shoulders back, gaze sharpening. The woman was young but hungry. She was a lioness in the making, and she knew when to go for the kill. She also knew that in this room, right now, she was merely a cub. “I’ve also heard some tabloid rumors that might interest you two.”
Liz felt her stomach roll. They had so many secrets. They’d been careful, but she knew rumors were surfacing about a relationship between her and the president. It was precisely why he should have accepted her resignation when she’d tendered it. In the beginning, she’d put up with all the talk because she’d believed one day they would be able to act on their feelings. Now, the gossip would only put a stain on her professional reputation. “And what is that?”
“That Sara Bond is pregnant,” Vanessa replied, her lips curling up. “She’s kept to herself, but a photographer who was following some ridiculous reality star caught a picture of her coming out of an OBGYN’s office in Manhattan. According to this source, she has a definite baby bump.”
This was Vanessa’s true talent, ferreting out bits of seemingly innocuous information that, if known, would shake their world. If anyone learned Maddox Crawford had fathered Sara Bond’s baby, the press would be all over that. The questions and speculation might prove too much for Sara to take.
“I want a name.” Gus managed to infuse each word with arctic frost.
“I’ll get you one,” Vanessa promised, obviously satisfied someone seemed interested in her news. “Have a good weekend. I’ll be here working if you need anything. It will be nice to have a quiet office for once.”
She turned and strode back toward her small office.
“I don’t like her.” Gus stared at Vanessa, not bothering to keep her voice down.
Liz smiled since Gus didn’t like many people. “She’s been with us for years and she’s good at her job. We should actually thank her for giving us that heads-up so we can plan how to deal with it. We can’t keep the press from talking about Sara forever, but only those close to the president know about her relationship with Mad. So all we have to do is keep our mouths shut, maybe devise a story about a vacation fling, if necessary. Then it’ll be a fifteen-minute story. But if you start making the paparazzi cry now, they’ll know we’re hiding something.”
Gus shut the door. “Screw crying. I’d like to hide the body of whoever is trying to make a buck off my friend.”
“Then you’ll be hiding a lot of bodies.” Liz started toward her office.
T
he day was almost over. Since Zack had refused her request to be relieved of duty, she refused to work overtime. At least today she did. Now that she was definitely outside the inner circle, Liz was so tired of trying to figure out what was happening. Sure, Gus was one of her best friends, but now that she was engaged to Roman, Gus knew plenty she couldn’t divulge. The Perfect Gentlemen kept their secrets—and their significant others did the same.
Liz changed the subject. “Did Roman get off okay?”
“Roman got off quite nicely.” Gus followed behind her. “That desk of his is comfy, let me tell you. I will never complain about his overly traditional tastes again. It’s sturdy, too. But if you’re asking if he left for Camp David on time, the answer is yes. All the men are away now, so I think the women should play. Let’s consider tonight a dry run of my bachelorette party. I know we’re all supposed to be on high alert and shit, but between Everly and Holland we’ll be perfectly safe from the assholes trying to influence Zack. Although we might give them more blackmail material.”
The last thing she wanted to do was hang around all those happy women who would undoubtedly talk about their recent or upcoming marriages. It would send her straight into a tailspin. She was happy for them, but every word was a bleak reminder that Zack no longer wanted her any way but professionally. It was as if his desire for her had begun a slow death the day Joy died.
“I’m so sorry. I know I said I would go, but I can’t. I’m meeting with my sister’s new attorney on Monday, so I want to do some research on him this weekend.”
The blackmailer trying to manipulate Zack into stopping a US natural gas pipeline had threatened to divulge her sister’s teenage stint in a mental hospital. It was something her soon-to-be ex-husband didn’t know and could use in their upcoming divorce and custody proceedings. Liz couldn’t let that happen.