by Shayla Black
That was more like it. “I look forward to that.”
Mad joined his wife and smiled when Zack parked himself beside Liz, bracing his hand on the small of her back. She seemed to relax at his touch and sent him a tenuous smile.
Sidling up to Sara, he kissed her temple. “I might need to consider a new career because I make a pretty damn good cupid.”
His wife laughed and handed him the knife. “You ready to cut the cake, cherub?”
Mad glanced over at the dessert the ladies had managed to acquire for the occasion. It was simple and utterly elegant. “Sure.”
“Hey, did we forget to mention there’s a groom’s cake?” Gabe pulled a domed silver lid off a nearby tray.
The sight his best friend revealed made Mad laugh because it was a large purple penis complete with a metric shit ton of glitter.
At least some things never changed.
Chapter Seventeen
Zack strode down the hall the next morning feeling cautiously optimistic. Four full days had passed since he’d announced his intention to move forward with the pipeline. Things had been surprisingly quiet. He’d spent most of that time in meetings with European leaders answering questions about how they could participate or hearing their vows to never allow it to touch their shores. One country who hadn’t said a damn thing? Russia. The Russian president had released a brief statement that he was looking into the legalities of the project, but not once had he accused the US president of being a fraud.
Of course Zack doubted that was the end of Russian interference in his administration. They hadn’t played this game for forty years to simply give up, but maybe he had finally found a maneuver that put them in a corner for a while. All in all, things were looking up.
He stopped in front of the press office and glanced back at Thomas, who looked somehow uncomfortable whenever he wasn’t in his perfectly pressed suit. Today the agent was ready for a jog in standard gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.
Zack had decided to take a calculated risk and—gasp—indulge in an outdoor run. The day was beautiful, and he was tired of being cooped up inside. Yes, he knew the risks, but he also knew Secret Service would surround and monitor him and Roman.
Oh, for the days when they’d jogged through Central Park and no one had given a damn.
“Hello, Mr. President. You’re looking very fit.” An attractive young brunette who’d hit on him before gave him a thorough once-over. Vanessa. She’d been around since the campaign. He’d never told Elizabeth that the woman had offered to take care of his personal needs on more than one occasion, but maybe he should.
He ignored her innuendo. “Good morning. Is Ms. Matthews here?”
“She’s around somewhere,” Vanessa offered with a dismissive wave. “But she’s not the only one who can help. I know what goes on here, so I can take care of you, too.”
“I would rather wait for Ms. Matthews. Since she’s the most senior member of this staff, I know she’ll be able to assist me.” He respected the chain of command. And he wanted to talk to his girlfriend.
“I’ve been around almost as long as she has. Have you considered that other longtime staffers would love a chance to help you, sir?” Vanessa smiled in a gesture nothing less than flirty. “You might find new positions…on the issues.”
Thomas cleared his throat, reminding Zack that he could take down petite problems full of hair spray and sass as efficiently as he could an assassin. Luckily he didn’t have to give the order since Elizabeth stepped out of her office a moment later.
As always, his breath caught at the sight of her. Today, she wore a white shirt and slacks that molded to her every curve, her blonde hair loose and flowing past her shoulders. She’d been up and out of bed before him, preparing for what was sure to be a long press briefing, which he’d promised not to show up for.
Zack couldn’t deny that he’d made her job difficult lately. She was having to prove to the press corps that she still had the president’s trust, and he wasn’t sure how to facilitate that. Walking in and taking over the press conference had launched his counterattack against the Russian menace, but he hadn’t thought in advance about how it would affect her credibility. And he’d also found other ways to complicate her job.
She’d had to get up early because he’d kept her from working the night before. He’d made love to her—he hadn’t been able to stop himself—but then he’d talked to her. Really talked to her. Not about Roman’s suspicions or his resulting worries. He couldn’t have that conversation with her yet. Once he had more facts, maybe talked to Paul Harding and hopefully pried some information out of him, he would sit Elizabeth down and explain why some of her actions had raised red flags. It would be an interrogation, but a gentle one.
The one he intended to have with Paul Harding this afternoon would be less so.
Zack didn’t want to sully Joy’s memory, but there were too many question marks about her behavior. Once he spoke to his father-in-law and assured him that he didn’t intend to smear Joy’s name through the press, maybe Paul would be forthcoming about the reasons his daughter had insisted on those last few appearances in the Midwest. And why she’d considered partnering with Tavia’s organization. After all, Joy had done very little without her father’s direction, even take a husband. And if Paul was willing to chat about his visits with his father, as well as Frank’s lucidity or lack thereof, that would be a bonus.
“Hey.” Elizabeth strode over, looking him up and down. “Going to hit the gym?”
“Going for a jog,” he corrected. “I need some fresh air.”
Her eyes widened and her voice dropped. “Outside? That’s not a good idea.”
He’d known she wouldn’t approve. She seemed terrified about him leaving the White House now, but he couldn’t serve the rest of his presidency inside these four walls and he refused to live in fear.
Zack pulled her to a quieter corner of the bustling press office. “Roman is coming with me, and we’re only going to the south lawn. I’ll be surrounded by Secret Service agents. It’s been quiet. Connor hasn’t heard a whisper on the Dark Web.”
Since the pipeline announcement, the former CIA agent had been monitoring all the nasty corners of the web for any talk about professionals offing a high-profile figure.
She’d paled. “I know it’s been quiet, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s only been a few days. Don’t be reckless.”
He smiled because he didn’t want to fuel office gossip and he wasn’t arguing with her about this. “Stop worrying. We’ll be fine. I’ll see you at six. We need to talk then because the staff is definitely gossiping about us. It’s only a matter of time before someone tips the press off and they run with the story. We need to set up a date and go public so we can control the narrative.”
She nodded, but he saw the worry in her eyes. “Be careful.”
“You ready or are we going to let ourselves go now that we’ve hit old age?” Roman joked from the doorway, wearing running shorts, a Yale T-shirt, and athletic shoes instead of his usual loafers. “Maybe you’re giving up, but I’m getting married soon. I have to fit into the tux Gus picked out or she might change her mind.”
Zack gave Liz one last glance. He wished he could kiss her. Hell, he wished he didn’t have to care that eyes were on them all the time. First, he needed to ask her those few delicate questions so she could hopefully lay all the suspicions to rest before they went public. For now, he simply nodded her way, then turned and left. If all went well tonight, he would kiss her all he liked in the very near future.
“Do you realize that brunette was making doe eyes at you?” Roman asked as they strode down the hall toward the south lawn and the bright morning sun.
“You mean Vanessa?” Sometimes Zack thought his best friend had been born without a single polite gene. Roman sucked at remembering people he’d decided didn’t matter. “She’s worked with Elizabeth for the last three plus years, and you can’t remember her name?”
�
��I know her name. I just don’t like the way she looks at you,” Roman admitted. “Does Liz know that woman is giving you fangirl eyes?”
“What the hell are fangirl eyes?”
They reached the exit and Roman pushed his way outside. “Aren’t you up on the latest lingo? Come on, Thomas. You’ve got two kids. Surely you know all the fresh, hip stuff.”
“I don’t believe there is anything hip or fresh about fangirl. Been around a long time.” Thomas’s face never changed expression as he slid a pair of mirrored aviators over his eyes. “But what I believe Mr. Calder is trying to say is, girl got it bad for you, sir. However, I also think girl likes to cause trouble.”
Zack pointed the observant agent’s way. “Exactly. Vanessa has hit on me a couple of times, even when I was married. That makes her a mean girl, too. See, I know some of the new lingo.”
“Not even close, sir.” Thomas kept pace beside them, constantly assessing their surroundings.
Oh, well. When his time in office was done, maybe he would learn some slang. Or maybe he would continue his old-man ways and let his kids make fun of him.
His kids. The thought almost stopped him where he stood.
When it seemed Joy couldn’t have children, he’d let that particular hope go. But lately, he’d been thinking again about procreating. He didn’t have a biological clock, per se, but he felt the pressure of time just the same. Mad was about to have a kid, and the rest of his friends wouldn’t be far behind. If he wanted a player in that crazy group, he and Elizabeth needed to get moving.
“You ready for this afternoon?” Roman asked, starting down the jogging path.
Was anyone ever truly ready to confront their father-in-law about a deeply uncomfortable topic? “As ready as I can be.”
“Connor is down in PEOC, preparing a room right now,” Roman advised as they started to run.
“Will that send the wrong message to Paul? It’s supposed to be a friendly chat.”
“We’ll couch it as a place where we can have the utmost privacy. So he can air his grievances as loudly as he’d like.” Roman rolled his eyes. “And neither of you will have to deal with quite so many prying eyes and wagging tongues. It’ll work.”
“If you say so.”
His chief of staff nodded. “Thomas will clear out all unneeded personnel and Freddy will observe behind two-way glass. He’s pushing for that lie detector—the one he’s souped up—but I told him no. I’ll be there, too, to make sure everything is done in a purely above-board fashion and that Freddy doesn’t get out of hand. But you should know, if Paul says anything incriminating, we can’t hold him without bringing in the Justice Department.”
“Jesus, you think everyone is guilty of something. I’m shocked you don’t suspect me.”
“Should I?” Roman returned, deadpan.
“I’m only going to ask Paul a few questions, see where it leads.” Zack was aware he’d put this off for too long. Now he needed whatever answers he could get.
“Did you know Liz has been talking to him?” Roman asked.
Zack focused on the green lawn ahead, his heart rate starting to tick up. “She’s been trying to soothe his ruffled feathers about the public rumors of your relationship with Joy so I don’t have to deal with him. He thinks we’re dragging her name through the mud posthumously. If someone hadn’t talked to him, he would have gone to the press. We don’t need that.”
A pair of Secret Service agents jogged in front of them, giving him and Roman both some space and protection. Two more kept pace behind them while Thomas and Mike, another long-term agent, flanked them. He was never alone—except at night when he finally got to wrap himself around Elizabeth.
Zack picked up the pace, and Roman matched him. He wished he could sprint for a nice long distance without having to turn around, but he was stuck here on the lawn, especially until the Russian threat was over.
“If he doesn’t give us anything to look into, we’ll have to let him go,” Roman said. “Then I worry he’ll talk to Liz. I’d rather leave her out of these discussions until we have something firmer.”
In other words, he didn’t want to bring Liz in until he could prove everything he accused her of.
“Roman, I’m telling her everything tonight. I know what you’re going to say because I’ve already heard it. But that’s the end of the conversation.” It was time to change the subject. “Have you heard from Connor this morning? He told me he had an update and that he’d fill me in soon.”
The good news about taking a stand while they worked out was Roman’s inability to pin him with that steely, disapproving stare of his. “He told me his Russian connection found some information we might find interesting. He didn’t sound like it was a bad thing.”
That was all they could say around the others. Connor was looking for any hospital records—footprints, blood type, other test results—anything that might tell them whether Zack was the baby Natalia had given birth to.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to slow down with Liz.” Roman didn’t seem to think talking about his personal life fell under the same protocols as the case.
“I haven’t sped up.” They were right where they’d been since he’d first touched her at Camp David. He was wary, and she was confused. If she was acting, she was damn good. More and more he suspected he was missing some big picture that was right in front of his face.
“You’re talking about going out on a date and revealing your relationship to the press. I think that’s a bad idea at this stage.”
“Well, I’ll tell you something worse.” The idea had been pinging around Zack’s brain a lot lately. “I think I’m going to marry her in the next week or so and present the whole thing as a fait accompli. Then there’s not much anyone can do about it.”
And he couldn’t be forced to testify against his wife if it came to that.
Not that Zack would ever allow a case against her to go that far.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Roman stopped in the middle of the lawn. “You can’t.”
Zack sighed and stopped, too, forcing all the agents to change course. “I can. I have very good reasons, including the fact that it could deflect a lot of the scrutiny that’s on you right now.”
“I’ll handle the story about Joy without you resorting to such drastic measures.”
Zack dismissed him and started running again. They were not having this out right now. If Roman wanted to debate, they would do it alone, back in the White House. But his chief of staff would find him an immovable mountain on this topic. He was tired of keeping Elizabeth at arm’s length, based on little more than circumstantial evidence, innuendo, and Roman’s suspicions.
Determined not to let Roman get to him, Zack turned his thoughts to whatever Connor’s contact had found. God, he hoped it would help put an end to all the torture about his true identity. Not knowing was a bitch. Or he hoped they’d found solid proof of the conspirators’ names and locations. Then he could breathe a sigh of relief and turn everything over to the Justice Department.
If he could trust them…
Paranoia was insidious. It threatened to choke him until he couldn’t breathe. If he wanted to survive, he had to let it go. When he got Elizabeth in his arms tonight, he would tell her everything. He would ask for explanations and try to put his faith in her.
“Seriously, don’t do this. It’s not a problem you have to handle alone,” Roman said, falling in beside him again. “I’m here.”
“You’re not the one who’s got trust issues with the woman you love.”
Zack wondered if he was looking at this all wrong. Maybe believing really was as easy as Mad suggested. Perhaps all he had to do was decide that the world would go his way and not give in until he got what he wanted.
“Down, now!”
Zack heard Thomas’s shout an instant before someone tackled him from behind. He hit the ground hard, heart pounding. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Then he heard a crack-bo
om across the lawn and chaos reigned.
* * * *
“I’ve got a list of the questions the reporter will be allowed to ask.” Liz set down a thick stack of papers, the end product of hours of negotiations with the network Roman and Gus would grant their exclusive interview to. “If she deviates from the list, don’t comment. But I think she’ll comply with the rules of engagement. She’s ambitious but fair.”
Zack intended to talk to her, too, explain his relationship with his wife briefly and swear publicly that no bad blood brewed between him and his chief of staff. Liz had advised him against the move, but he’d insisted.
Foolish man. He was being as reckless with this interview as he was with this morning’s run. Worrying about him was starting to become her second job. She hated the fact that he’d chosen to put himself at risk. The Secret Service couldn’t possibly check every surrounding tree and building.
On the other hand, she understood that he couldn’t remain inside the White House every day for the rest of his presidency.
“You okay?” Gus ignored the papers and stood. “You look a little pale. Did you have breakfast this morning?”
She hadn’t been eating anything but dinner for the last couple of days, and only then because Zack nagged her about it. Something had to give and soon. The tension was killing her. She couldn’t sleep because every time she closed her eyes, she was back in her apartment with Krylov. Zack walked in, and the Russian pulled a gun and shot him. “I had some coffee.”
The last couple of days she’d been running on caffeine and willpower.
“Is Zack still being an asshole?”
“No. He’s been wonderful since the wedding. I think whatever Mad said to him that night helped, but the cabin fever is getting to all of us. When Everly finds out Zack and Roman are outside jogging and she’s not even allowed a simple trip to Neiman’s, she’s going to flip.”
Gus waved the worry off. “Hey, if Everly wants to jog around the grounds, I’ll find a detail to go with her. We’re all welcome to do that as long as we take a bodyguard with us.”