All the King's Henchmen

by Morgan Kelley

  She was aware.

  “And no one was up there?”

  “When we headed up, it was only because he’d been gone most of the night. We gave him some time since we knew he needed ‘help’ getting it done. We figured he Viagra’d his way to a few lays.”

  “And?” Max asked.

  “When I opened the door, he was there on the floor, and he was dead. God! He was in bad shape. I’ve never seen anyone like that. We called the vice president, and Marcus Hunter happened to be there. Mr. Vice President wanted it cleaned up. We did it. We brought him back to the White House, and the rest is history.”

  Yeah, written by them, and now Elizabeth was going to have to figure out what went down.

  For real.

  “Clyde.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She needed to get out of there. She couldn’t even think about that man popping Viagra to assault someone. It was vile, sick, and it made her ill.

  Max was done.

  “Thank you for the names. If I were you, I’d work on that resume before the shit hits the fan.”

  Clyde was aware.

  “My career is ruined. I let the president go down on my watch. Who will let me protect them?”

  She knew the answer.

  No one.

  And honestly, that was on him and the Secret Service. There was NO love lost between them.

  He sat and looked miserable.

  As they headed out, Max didn’t understand what he was missing—but he knew there was something. He wasn’t born yesterday.

  “He was apologizing to you. Why?” he asked as they got outside and out of earshot.

  She didn’t speak.

  When she tried to move around him, he put his body in front of the passenger side door of their ride.

  “You called me your partner. If that’s true, we can’t do this with you holding back. If it’s pertinent to this case, I need to know, Harmony. Why are you freaked-out?”

  Oh, that was putting it mildly.

  “Max.”

  He couldn’t recall seeing her look this scared. She’d gone pale, and there were beads of perspiration on her lip.

  “Harmony.”

  “I don’t feel so well,” she stated.

  Max wasn’t buying it. He’d worked murders, and he could read people. That he did inherit from his father. Harmony was fine before this interview.

  Something.

  Was.

  Off.

  “Tell me or I have to go to Elizabeth, and she’ll get it out of you,” he threatened.

  That scared her.

  “Harmony, come on.”

  She had no choice.

  “When I worked for the Secret Service, the president was why I really left.”

  “Oh. Was he hard to work with?” Max asked.

  That was an understatement.

  “Max, he raped me. I know the Secret Service knew. I know they covered for him, and I was given a sweet, cushy job as a marshal to keep it quiet.”

  He was horrified.

  “Harmony.”

  She moved away from him and puked in Clyde’s landscaping.

  Max moved toward her and grabbed her hair. He didn’t know what the hell to say to that. He simply held her hair, rubbed his hand reassuringly on her back, and tried to be there for her.

  He was pissed.

  She braced her hands on her knees as she waited for that second wave of sickness, and she said one thing.

  “He was going to do the same to Elizabeth Blackhawk. I don’t feel any remorse that he’s dead. None.”

  Max was sick to his stomach.

  “Harmony. Honey.”

  When she was finished, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and there were tears in her eyes.

  “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

  He didn’t buy that.

  “Harmony.”

  She stopped him. If he kept talking, she’d break. If he kept looking at her like that, she’d cry. Harmony had been there and done that.

  She couldn’t let Damian Dean win.

  Not in life.

  Not in death.

  “Let’s grab some coffee and do some research. We need to find two prostitutes,” she said, changing the subject so she could find the strength to regroup.

  He didn’t push.

  He didn’t nag.

  Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water from the cupholder and handed it to her.

  “When you’re ready, I’m here.”

  That’s all he said, and Harmony knew, in that moment, that she was screwed.

  That was exactly what she needed to hear from him, and she’d be helpless to stop herself.

  Max got her.

  And that meant everything.

  * * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *

  White House

  All of the way there, she was working on her tablet to get ahead of what was coming. While Ivan drove, she sat in the back and did some things to prep for what was going to be a very difficult interview.

  “Are we going to check the crime scene?” Callen asked, knowing that his wife had a specific way she liked to work. That she hadn’t brought it up yet confused the hell out of him. That was generally step one before any interviews.

  She laughed.

  “Yeah, no.”

  “Really? You have a pattern. I don’t know how to deal with this switch up,” he stated, keeping it light. Callen was trying to amuse her as they headed back into the lion’s den. “Normally, you look at the body, the scene, and then start ball busting. If you switch it up, the universe might not be able to handle it.”

  She knew he was trying to make her laugh, but that wasn’t the state of mind she needed to be in at that moment. She was gearing up for a battle.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a physical one. She’d done that, and it sucked.

  “It’s too late,” she offered. “It’ll be scrubbed.”

  “How do you know?” Callen asked. “If it was in a hotel room, they may have just closed it off.”

  Oh, that was easy.

  “If the vice president had them move the body, and he doesn’t want the world to know the president is dead, he’s not going to leave the hotel room intact. I’ll bet it has been cleaned with more beach than what’s available at the bleach factory.”

  She was probably right.

  Callen hated when people screwed with a crime scene, but not nearly as much as she did. It still confused him since she was taking it rather well.

  Elizabeth didn’t like a scene tampered with until she saw it. This had to be bugging the shit out of her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She glanced up.

  “For?”

  “That they screwed with this, and that it makes it harder for you to do your job.”

  She appreciated his concern. Right now, she was more concerned with how a man, who is supposed to be under continuous guard, was taken out by some very angry killer. In her head, something wasn’t adding up.

  The only thing keeping her calm was since this wasn’t a serial killer case, they wouldn't be playing ‘chase the bodies’ all over the freaking place.

  That was the ONLY silver lining. That was a luxury in this case, and she knew it.

  “Maybe we’ll swing by at some point, but that won’t be my priority. This case is going to be made in the interviews. I can already feel it. As for forensics…I’m going to bet it’s a waste of our time,” she stated, tucking a pencil behind her ear.

  “You’re sexy like that,” he said out of the blue. “It gets me all hot and bothered in a schoolmarm kind of way.”

  She laughed.

  Ivan groaned.

  “Jesus. I have a beer headache, she’s being nice, and you’re hitting on her at barely eight in the morning. Cut me a break just for today.”

  “WHAT?” she yelled loudly from the backseat. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP!”

  He cringed at the screech and loudness of her voice.

  “You
are a bitch on wheels.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said, grinning at him in the rearview mirror. “Someone can’t hold his beer. They told me you had about six. You’re a lightweight.”

  Oh, he was aware.

  Ivan wasn’t a drinker.

  As they approached the White House, Ivan rolled down the window to talk to the guards in the shack at the gate. They didn’t look happy or impressed when he told them who was in the vehicle to see the First Lady.

  Shocking.

  “Cut the dirty looks,” he stated—not in the mood to deal with that bullshit today. “They should be expected and cleared to enter,” Ivan said, giving them his ID to scan.

  The man touched his ear and then shook his head.

  “Sorry, but the First Lady is busy. She’s detained at the moment. You’re going to have to wait here until she wishes to see you.”

  “Listen…”

  The guard shut that right down.

  “We are under orders that she isn’t to be bothered.”

  Yeah, they all knew why. She was hiding because she was suddenly a widow.

  It wasn’t happening.

  Elizabeth rolled down her window. She wasn’t wasting a single second of her time. They’d already handicapped her and delayed this by kicking the hell out of her. She was seconds from getting out, kicking the guard's ass, and then climbing the gate.

  Period.

  Yes, she’d do it, and be on the news too.

  “Call the vice president and tell him I’m here. If the First Lady doesn’t see me, I’ll talk to the media,” she stated, pointing at the phone in her other hand. “I should have access to any and everyone in that building.”

  He didn’t look happy about it.

  BUT…

  He went back to the booth, and before long, the gate was opening for them to enter, and accessing the driveway.

  “She’s in the East Wing in her office. You will have an escort there. Get badges, and don’t cause any shit.”

  Funny, they didn’t offer her a badge when they were holding her hostage there after abducting her from a public place. How short their memories were?

  “Let’s go, Ivan,” she stated.

  They rolled up their windows and headed up the long drive.

  As they parked, Ivan was out, opening her door, and blocking her from the oncoming White House entourage. He was taking his promise seriously.

  No one was coming at her.

  Not on his watch.

  Elizabeth knew this was her welcoming committee. It looked like she had to deal with that jackassery first. Heading her way was the vice president, the head Secret Service agent, and the agent’s boss.

  Great.

  She didn’t want to see any of them. Yesterday had been sufficient for her. From the looks on their faces, she could tell what was coming. They were planning to run interference.

  If that were the case, people were going to be seriously pissed when she behaved how she normally did.

  There would be no holds barred.

  NONE.

  She didn’t care that the dead man was the president. She had a job to do, and she’d damn well do it.

  “Elizabeth, welcome back.”

  She laughed as the vice president couldn’t get close to her with Ivan acting like a wall. Every time he zigged, holding out his hand, Ivan zagged, blocking him with his body armor-clad torso.

  “Uh, and who are you?”

  Ivan ignored him.

  It was amusing to watch. A Marine, who once saluted the president and vice president, was now acting like he was the enemy.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “This is my personal security from the Capitol police division. You may know him as the decorated Marine that your Secret Service agents tasered and shoved into a trunk on a hot day.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, he’s only got a purple heart, a few stars, and enough combat missions under his belt to make you all look like pansy-ass babies.”

  The man looked embarrassed.

  And he should.

  They’d called out the dogs on a veteran.

  Tsk.

  Tsk.

  “Yeah, he’s not really happy with any of this either. So, I’d keep that in mind,” she said, continuing the introductions. “Ivan Bennet, this is the man who had me abducted, Vice President Gordon Downing.”

  Ivan didn’t even acknowledge him.

  “Soldier, where’s your salute?” the man asked.

  “I think I left it in that trunk between the tire jack and my respect.”

  She laughed.

  It was RARE that Ivan wasn’t polite. From that response, it told her everything. The Marine might be his core, but he wasn’t saluting a man who didn’t earn it.

  “This is Agent Tiegan Blackett, and her boss, Alfie Steiner, the head of all the assholes who abducted me. If either of them come near me, shoot them. The vice president will cover it up. He’s good at it.”

  Alfie blanched as she realized that Elizabeth was not happy with her, OR any of them for that matter.

  “Elizabeth, don’t hold a grudge. Before this, we used to get along splendidly,” the man stated.

  “UNTIL you abducted me. That changes the game, Gordo.”

  He cringed again.

  Ivan crossed his arms and stayed in front of Elizabeth as he glared at the man.

  Callen just watched the show. He wouldn’t let the man near his wife, but since Ivan had been locked in the trunk, he got to have the fun if Gordon moved on her.

  “Elizabeth,” Gordon stated.

  “Oh, I’m not done,” she admitted. “I thought I was clear when I stated that Alfie was supposed to stay a mile away from me at all times so what the hell does she want?” she asked, pointing at Tiegan Blackett. She may have ordered the Secret Service around for Alfie, but she wasn’t getting involved in this investigation.

  It wasn’t happening.

  Elizabeth was driving the bus now.

  “I’m not going to provoke you,” Alfie stated. “We just wanted to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  It had to be big if the acting President of the United States was taking time to cut her off at the pass.

  “I think we both know that it’s going to be all about the First Lady.”

  “What about her?”

  “Is this necessary?” Gordon asked. “She’s been through a lot today. We told her an hour ago about her husband.”

  She lifted a brow.

  “And she was shocked?” she asked.

  They nodded.

  Oh, there was no way she was buying that bullshit.

  “So, let me get this straight. She went to the party with her husband, he died there, and she only realized he was MIA when you told her this morning? Uh, what was she doing for a whole day?” she asked.

  “First Lady things,” Gordon stated.

  If he thought that was going to fly, he was out of his damn mind. Then again, he had her and Chris, abducted. That said it all about the man’s desperation.

  “Like?” she asked, needing more than that. It was clear they didn’t get how this ‘investigating a murder’ thing worked, or worse, they did and were railroading her.

  “She read some books to children at the National Library, and she helped serve some low-income meals at the local civic center. She was on the news. You can check. The First Lady is very into the community and helping the underprivileged. That’s her mission.”

  “Uh huh.”

  She wasn’t buying it.

  While that was her job, that didn’t take up a whole twenty-four hours. Where was she the rest of the time, and why hadn’t she realized her husband was MIA?

  Not a call?

  Not a text?

  Nothing?

  She was shutting this shit down—and now.

  “The thing is, respectfully, Mr. Vice President, when my husband isn’t around, or goes missing, suddenly, I seem to always know it’s happened,” she stated.

 
The man listened.

  “Like Callen, here. He was in Chicago. I knew where he was at all times. I’m wifely like that. Why didn’t she know that he was dead? That’s the big mystery. Did she already know? See, in my world, when someone kills someone, they hide out until they are confronted with it—like today.”

  That seemed to horrify all of them.

  “She had a busy…”

  Elizabeth held up her hand.

  “Stop. I feel a whole truck full of bullshit backing up to dump its load all over me. If I even get a whiff of that truck, I’m walking. You are getting my help on a case that’s not a serial killer case for a reason. I’m doing this since I respect the office of president—not the actual man.”

  “We aren’t bullshitting you,” Tiegan stated. “They led separate lives.”

  She shut her mouth when Alfie glanced over at her.

  Curious.

  That one action told her everything she needed to know about the whole thing. Elizabeth went in for the kill.

  “As in they sleep separately too?” she asked. “I know when one of the men I’m shacked up with doesn’t show for bedtime, I ask where he is. Now, I have more than one, so I can see how I could possibly miss one being MIA, but when you have only one that makes it really hard to do…”

  Alfie sighed.

  She was now Elizabeth’s focus. The woman was holding back, and that was not happening.

  “Spill it, or I walk. I’m not kidding. I can head back to my nice, plush office and pick up a file with a bunch of cuckoo-a-doo killings, and do my real job, instead of babysitting this jackassery. Then Gabe can give this job to someone who may be after the glory, and let it slip to the media. I don’t give a shit about the kudos attached to finding the president’s killer. I care that someone bludgeoned a man to death. PERIOD.”

  And it was true.

  Her cap was full of feathers. She’d done her job the last twenty years. This was just one more job, and it didn’t mean she was going to thank her lucky stars someone liked her enough to give it to her.

  The opposite was true.

  “Tell her,” Gordon stated.

  It looked like the woman had no choice.

  “They have separate rooms. He snores, and she doesn’t like being kept awake all night,” Alfie stated.

  BULLSHIT.

  That was a load of it.