by Shayla Black
Liz ended the call, then strode onto the elevator, her thoughts already working on the problems ahead. She wasn’t sure a good solution existed. This was exactly why pleasure and business didn’t mix. She couldn’t think logically about Zack. She loved him and had for far too long to pretend otherwise. It would be almost impossible to give him up now.
She would offer to step down, but what good would that do? There was no clear successor to her role. Even Vanessa, though very good, wasn’t ready to helm the press office on her own. Chaos was the last thing the administration needed, especially now. In fact, the press was far more likely to speculate aloud if she suddenly stepped down. She would look guilty of something—probably being Zack’s squeeze on the side.
The elevator dinged and then opened. Liz marched toward her door, determined to be positive. After all, she was surrounded by some of the smartest people in the world. Collectively, they would find a way out of this. They just needed a bit more time. Once they worked their way out of the blackmail, they would have more breathing room to decide how to proceed. Perhaps if Zack announced that he’d chosen not to run for a second term after all, that might unravel this tangle once and for all.
But Zack didn’t want to step down.
As she slid her key into the front door and headed into her place for the first time in a week, she set her purse, phone, and keys on the bar while reviewing her mental checklist of items to pack. Clothes. Her hair supplies because Zack did not believe in conditioner. Did she have any lingerie or had she thrown it all out? She glanced briefly around the small vestibule that led to the living area and the kitchen she’d never once cooked in.
It was a bland apartment. It had come furnished. When she’d signed her lease, that had been a bonus. Now? Nothing about this place felt like home. It never had, despite the fact that she’d been looking forward to having a more permanent base camp after spending most of a decade running campaigns and being on the road.
A vision of a home with Zack floated through her head. He would want to be close to New York, so they would look in Connecticut for someplace with room to breathe, where the press wouldn’t be all over them and they could sit together to have their morning coffee and watch the sunrise.
A place where they might raise a couple of kids.
It was way too soon to think about that, so she shoved the images aside and headed for her bedroom.
“Good evening, Ms. Matthews.”
She froze, then whirled toward the unexpected voice with a gasp.
Oh my god. She wasn’t alone.
A man sat on her sofa, leaning back casually as if he’d simply been waiting for a friend. But that deep Russian accent belied his seemingly relaxed nature and told her he wasn’t even her garden-variety burglar or rapist.
Liz’s heart revved. Suddenly, she feared she would appear on the news, this time because she was being carried out in a body bag.
“Who are you?” She managed to ask the question in an even tone, which was good because she was completely terrified.
How had this man gotten into her apartment? How long had he been waiting for her?
“Who am I?” The large, muscular man cocked an eyebrow as though pondering a philosophical issue. His dark hair might be graying at the temples, but that didn’t make him look any less menacing. In fact, the scar marring his cheek bespoke his life of violence. “That is a very good question. Let us say I am a businessman. You received the package I left for you in London?”
Liz tried not to show her panic. How many steps to the door? Maybe she could run, grab her phone, and scream like hell. Hopefully someone would hear her and call the police. Except this building was notorious for being empty during the day. The whole tenant list was Washington insiders who worked far more than they were ever at home.
“I wouldn’t run if I was you,” the man said with a sigh. “You never know who’s lurking around these days. It can be very dangerous for a woman such as you. Besides, I am only here to talk. I thought it was long past time I made contact with one of the president’s closest…friends. The last one I spoke with, he was not so lovely as you. I promise to treat you better than him.”
Oh my god. She was standing in the same room with the man who’d beaten Mad half to death.
“You’re Ivan Krylov.”
His eyes were dark and serious, a predator studying his prey as he waved off her speculation. “Names, I find, are fairly useless in my business. If I disappear, another will take my place. Institutions, though, are forever. So don’t think you can make this problem go away simply by getting rid of me, Ms. Matthews. This has been going on for far longer than you’ve been alive, and now that we have what we want, we will not let Zachary Hayes go simply because he does not wish to fulfill his destiny.”
She felt her hands fist at her sides. She couldn’t fight this man, not physically, and that made her feel so damn vulnerable. “It doesn’t matter what you have on Zack. He won’t do your bidding.”
He considered her for a long moment. “That is a shame. I rather thought that would be his stance. That is why I am here, talking to his more reasonable half. Let me give you a history lesson of sorts. A long time ago, there were people—smart people—in the KGB who realized that your democracy was nothing but an illusion. It’s a lovely mirage that allows the poor to believe they have some say in their lives while the real people in power manipulate matters for their benefit. Of course, they work quite hard to perpetrate the fantasy that voting is important, that America belongs to every citizen so you should all take care of it. You wouldn’t destroy something that belongs to you, correct? It’s quite a good scam, I think. If we had thought of this, perhaps we would have no revolution. But these men in Russia saw how tenuous your government’s hold truly is and realized all we needed was a way in.”
“Zack is not your way in.”
“Oh, but he is,” Krylov disagreed. “We thought perhaps his father would provide us the access we sought. His grandfather was a loyal man with roots going back to Moscow for generations. They did a good job of integrating here and building fruitful businesses, but he never forgot that he was Russian at heart. His grandfather knew that sometimes these things take time and patience. He built an empire, but his son was too impatient and weak to win the one prize we required.”
The presidency. “Frank Hayes was working with you.”
Those dark eyes stared through her. “Maybe he was…or maybe it is best to allow our targets to be as authentic as possible until such time as we find the need for them and the right tug on their leash. Until recently, Zachary did not realize there was a leash around his neck, did he? And now he is fighting it.”
“He won’t give in,” Liz swore.
Krylov chuckled sanguinely. “That is why I am here, talking to someone practical. Someone capable of changing his mind. Maddox Crawford turned out to be more resilient than we expected. I suspect, despite his untimely and rather public death, that he is still around and causing me trouble. But you will not prove difficult, will you, pretty lady?”
“You underestimate me.” Anger started to crowd out her fear. How dare he think he could come into her home and threaten her?
“But I do not underestimate your love for him. You do not wish to see him removed from office.”
“I don’t care if he’s the president. If he stepped down tomorrow, I would still be by his side.” But she also knew Zack wouldn’t resign if he thought it would give the syndicate the upper hand they wanted. Still, she had no problems encouraging him to walk away if it meant saving him the stress and worry of being used as a Russian puppet.
“Step down? You misunderstand. This is not the only way to eliminate a problem.” The Russian stood. “Ask Joy Hayes.”
A chill iced Liz’s veins, and she couldn’t help but take a step back. “You killed her.”
“I said no such thing. I worry, though. That family seems cursed. Death stalks them. So sad… Please let your president know that I will pray for his
continued health and that perhaps next time we shall have more pleasant things to discuss. If the kind letter I sent to him in London isn’t clear enough and he chooses to view it instead as a to-do list, rather than a friendly bargain, I will be forced to rethink my strategy. Perhaps even end this experiment.”
“Kill him?” The question slipped past her numb lips.
“I put him where he is. I can take him out, too. This is the way of the world. I have bosses who want results. If I do not produce them, I will be the one with the future in question. So I must choose between me or President Hayes. And to me, that is no choice at all. I will try to make my point one last time before decisions must be made. The president is close to his friends, is he not? I suspect he is the reason Mr. Crawford has evaded capture for so long. He hasn’t hidden the rest of them so well though. Tell him next time, it will not be the brakes that malfunction. It will be a bomb, and perhaps not in her car.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your boyfriend will know. If he forces a next time, well, I will do what I have to do. Shut down the pipeline. After that, we shall discuss strengthening relations between our countries. We don’t need all these sanctions, do we?”
Liz paled. “He’ll never do it.”
She already knew Zack would be stubborn.
“Then I will have to take care of the situation. The good news is, I have people in place to do my bidding. I hope the president can say the same. Tell him we are willing to die for our cause…or kill. Good-bye, Ms. Matthews. It was lovely to meet you. I think you will make an excellent First Lady should the president decide he wants to live.”
She stepped back, not wanting to even risk touching the man as he sauntered out of her apartment, the door closing behind him with a quiet yet ominous click.
As Liz watched him go, her hands shook. The syndicate was willing to do everything Krylov had threatened. They would kill Zack.
Suddenly, she was right back in that moment when she heard the gun shots and chaos had erupted all around her. Back in that moment she’d realized how fragile they all were.
Liz forced herself to lock the door behind him, to test it and make sure it still worked, though it was obviously flimsy protection at best.
Her phone rang, a trilling sound she’d selected because it was soothing. Now, she jumped at the sound, barely managing to pick it up and swipe across the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Gus said, sounding out of breath as though she was on the move. “We might have to postpone happy hour. Holland’s car malfunctioned. Weirdly, her brakes quit working. She’s okay, but apparently it was a close call.”
If she’d needed proof that her unexpected visitor was serious, she’d just gotten it.
Liz sank to her knees and she cried.
* * * *
Zack stripped off his tie and glanced at the clock. What was taking Elizabeth so long?
Roman opened the door to the Treaty Room and stepped inside. “Dax called. Holland’s perfectly fine but she’s pissed at her mechanic. She swears she took it in for a tune-up a month ago and they said nothing at all about a problem with the brakes.”
After she and Dax had moved to DC, Holland bought a classic Mustang. They had been fighting about it ever since. He wanted her driving a car with every possible state-of-the-art safety feature, but she insisted that Mustang was her dream car. “Are they arguing about it again?”
“Dax was pretty spooked, but I bet she’ll win in the end.” Roman leaned on the desk with a sigh that portended bad news. “We need to talk about something else.”
Zack didn’t want to talk about anything right now. He wanted Elizabeth here, wanted to spend the evening pretending they were nothing more than an average couple winding down after a long day. But he didn’t get to put things off. “What?”
“Shorn caught me a few minutes ago.” Roman grimaced. “He wanted to know why he hadn’t been invited to the meeting with the energy director about the pipeline.”
Zack’s stomach took a hard turn. That nonexistent meeting had been the litmus test Roman had devised for Elizabeth. He’d told her the information in confidence, never believing she wouldn’t keep the “secret” between them. How the hell had Shorn found out?
Roman stared at him with grave eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be right about this.”
“There could be another explanation.”
“Like what? You asked Liz to keep it quiet. Maybe I could understand if Gus had asked me about the meeting, but Wally Shorn? Liz doesn’t even like the man, so why would he know about a supposedly secret get-together to discuss the pipeline? Which begs the question, who else knows about it.”
There must be some other explanation besides what Roman saw as the obvious. Maybe Liz had mentioned it to Gus, thinking she knew as well… Except Gus thought everything was a secret. For all that she could be mouthy, Gus could also be very tight-lipped. She certainly wouldn’t tell the vice president anything she hadn’t run past Roman. Of course, he’d thought the same thing of Elizabeth, too.
No. Zack refused to accept that Elizabeth was working with the Russians. It wasn’t possible. There was another reason Shorn knew. Maybe she’d slipped and said something to someone in her office. Maybe Shorn was speculating. There had to be some explanation.
“Zack…” Roman began.
Anything Roman would have said was cut off by the door crashing open and Elizabeth rushing in, looking pale and shaken.
Zack stood, worry flaring through him. She did not look like a woman who’d had a casual trip to her old apartment. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “What happened?”
Gus, who had followed her in, reached out to give Elizabeth a steadying hand. Roman frowned beside him.
“H-he was waiting for me,” Elizabeth managed. “Inside my apartment.”
Zack’s heart threatened to stop. He should never have allowed Elizabeth to leave the safety of the White House without an escort. Hell, he should never have let her go at all. He should have sent someone to gather her things. “Who?”
“Ivan Krylov. A-at least I think so. He was sitting on my couch. I don’t know how he got in. The door was locked. I used my key. I...” Her words were spilling out fast, just like her tears.
“Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”
“No. But the things he said…” She pressed a hand to her chest. “The things he threatened… He told me he would make an example of one of us. This time, he said, it was the brakes, but next time would be a bomb. Is Holland okay? Gus said that her brakes suddenly failed?”
“Her brakes went out because the car is old,” Roman said, reaching for his fiancée in spite of his reassurances. “That’s what Dax said.”
Elizabeth shook her head as she reached for him. “It was Krylov. He told me it was a message for you.”
Zack bit back his own panic. He needed to get her calm or he might lose it, too.
He hauled her close, grateful when her arms encircled his neck and she began to relax.
“I’m going to get us some wine,” Gus said, holding her fiancé’s hand. “Why don’t you come and help me?”
Roman frowned. “If there’s one thing you don’t need help doing, it’s finding the liquor. I need to stay and hear everything that happened.”
Gus groaned. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty. Liz already told me what happened, and I’ll tell you while we let them have a moment alone.”
“I would appreciate it.” Zack pressed Elizabeth even closer, feeling a fine tremble wind through her body.
Roman let Gus lead him out.
He tilted Elizabeth’s head up and smoothed back her hair. “Tell me everything that happened.”
She nodded and seemed to calm. “I went to my apartment like I told you.”
“Like you texted me,” he corrected. If she’d faced him and said she’d planned to go home alone, he would never have allowed that. And he worried she was well aware of that. He would have sent a Secret Service agent with h
er, one of Thomas’s trusted men. Was that the reason she’d texted him in the first place?
She ignored him and continued. “I went to my apartment and used the key to unlock the door and he was sitting there on my couch.”
“Ivan Krylov, the head of the Krylov syndicate, was just hanging out?”
“I think it was him. He wouldn’t say his name. I guessed, but he neither confirmed nor denied.”
It didn’t matter. She could ID him from a picture. They had a good-sized file on the head of the syndicate.
God, she’d walked into someplace she should have been safe and found herself alone with a killer. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. He just talked to me. Zack, he said a lot of nasty things, but the most important thing he said was that if you don’t stop the pipeline, he’s going to assassinate you, just like Freddy and Mad suspected.”
She clung to him as she started to tell him everything.
And Zack held her, trying not to think about the fact that this was the second time she’d been the one to bring him the syndicate’s message.
Chapter Thirteen
Zack’s head was still reeling three hours later when all the guys, with the exception of Dax and Mad, crowded into the Treaty Room. Gus had taken the ladies out to visit Holland, though Dax’s wife swore she was perfectly fine. Captain Awesome—a nickname that still got a grin out of Zack—had Holland on bedrest and was watching over her like a hawk.
“Have we heard anything from the mechanic?” Roman paced like a frustrated tiger.
“Yes.” Connor sat at the desk, making notes. He’d either been on the phone or focused on his laptop for hours. “Someone fucked with her brakes. The guy spoke in technical terms I won’t bore everyone with, but it definitely wasn’t an accident.”
Zack bit back nausea. They could have lost Holland. The danger had been real for quite some time, but it hit him again that someone was truly trying to hurt him—and they were willing to use his friends to do it.
Would one of them die because of him?