Walking Disaster (Bad Boy Romance) (Cocky Bastards & Motorcycles Book 3)

by Faye, Amy

"I do know, and you know I don't care one bit why you're doing it. It doesn't have to be a political marriage. You could marry her 'cause the sex is good. I know you've done it before."

  He had, Adam thought. Well, not only for that reason. And he could think of someone whose sex was plenty good enough for marriage on those grounds. Somehow, Linda was still disqualified, though.

  "So we leak that I'm in a relationship?"

  "Exactly."

  "Do you have a name in mind?"

  "No, should I? I figure we leak that you've been seen out and about, and let the vultures fight over figuring out who with. It answers the question, and again turns it into a 24-hour news cycle thinking about one man: Adam Quinn. And, in this particular case, your johnson. Again, but this time like some kind of cute panda video. You know how the press loves their celebrity romance."

  "A panda video?" He pulls the spoon out of Tom's reach again, shifting it into the other hand. "Tom, that hurts. Even coming from you."

  "I know. But sometimes you have to hear the truth from someone."

  "Make it happen. Talk to your people, get the rumor out there. No names."

  He holds the spoon out and Tom takes it, pulls the plastic off the top of Jim's—now his—yogurt cup, and heads for the door.

  "Tom, listen to me now."

  Tom stops and looks back over his shoulder. "What's up?"

  "Keep Linda's name out of this. Promise me."

  "She's off-limits, Adam. I get it. No problem."

  "Good. Don't forget that."

  He takes a deep breath. Now if only Adam could remember it, as well. Linda's off-limits, and that goes for both of them equally. And he can't wait until there's a chance to see her again.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It seemed like everywhere Linda turned, there was another story conspiring to ruin her day. Another plan that she hadn't been informed of, and another plan that she would have turned down if they had come to her with it. Maybe that was why she wasn't being consulted.

  It had been, what, three days since she had slept with Adam last? Less than a week. Caught by Tom De-fucking-laney, and now she was suddenly on the out?

  It was a laugh. If the press found out, they'd be questioning whether or not she was getting special advantages because of her sex. When now she was wondering if she wasn't losing ground because of it.

  Things don't always work the way you expect them to, but they work that way least of all when you are counting on it. That's the old Murphy's law, isn't it? Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. If it can't, well, get ready because something else can.

  It was the first time that she'd done it in days, but she grabbed the remote and shut the TV off.

  "This is your doing, isn't it, Tom?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. But for all that he denied his role in the announcement, his eyes didn't lie. He was a good liar when he wanted to be. He didn't care if she knew.

  "So what's going to happen when the press starts asking questions about who the 'lucky lady' is? Did you have a plan for that?"

  "Are they not doing that already?"

  "Are they doing that already—god, Christ, Tom. You're really something else, aren't you?"

  Linda's chest heaved in frustration. What was his problem, anyways? He should've been just as worried as she was. The fact that he wasn't was just another confirmation that there were things that he knew and she didn't.

  "Here's the plan: We let them stew a bit, and then when they're simmering down, we come up with a new plan."

  That was a lie, too, she thought. She couldn't see it in his face this time, but there was no world where Tom Delaney didn't have a next step. No world in which he was ignoring the future and making last-minute decisions.

  Which meant he was lying to her, keeping secrets from her, just like Adam was.

  "What is this, Tom? What are you doing?"

  "I don't understand the question, to be honest."

  "You've got something up your sleeve, and I don't like it."

  Tom smiles. He clears his throat and smiles and for a moment he almost tells her what's going on. She can see it in his eyes. And then, as suddenly as he likes, he stops himself.

  "No, nothing going on."

  She swallows hard, and suddenly she knows exactly what this is about. It's not anything to do with Adam. Adam's doing his best, but he's in over his head. Anyone would be, alone. He's a genius in his field, and his skills are transferring over surprisingly well to the political spectrum as well.

  But he's always going to have to have help from someone. Hell, even in tech, he's gotten by with plenty of help from other people, from advisers who went on to prove themselves very capable in their own right. Adam's businesses are team affairs from top to bottom, so politics would be no different for him.

  If someone is doing something to mess with her, then it's not going to be because they want revenge on her for sleeping with them. That made no sense in any world.

  People are complicated, and they make decisions for reasons that aren't altogether rational. People think with their heads, but their heads mostly make decisions based on feelings, on instincts, on gut reactions.

  You fucking someone? You have emotions about it. Of course you do—everyone does. The emotions will be a lot of things, but they won't be negative.

  If you get turned down, though… you're going to have emotions about that, too. Tom's eyes shift back to the television.

  "Are we done for today, or are you going to turn that back on?"

  "What would be the point? I'm not being kept in the loop. I'm not going to be strung along."

  She picks up her purse, picks up her laptop and slips it into the shoulder-bag that she uses as a tote. If she hurries, Linda thinks, she can get back to her apartment in an hour, and she can be doing work that might actually make a difference before dinnertime. At least in that case, she might be able to get something done that Tom Delaney won't be working to undo.

  Her gut tells her that she should be working to stop him, but her gut's wrong. There's nothing that she can do to stop him. He's a slippery guy, and if he wants to do something, there's no "stopping" him. That's a false goal.

  If Linda wants to get her way around him, then the answer isn't to play the same game, on the same field, that he's playing it. She's got to have another answer, and she's got one. It's easy, it's convenient, and it's right in her face.

  Figure out what she should be doing separately, and make herself independently useful. She had understood her job to be working with Delaney, but if that wasn't going to be a two-way street, she wasn't going to put herself in his line of fire.

  Linda takes a deep breath and heads over to Adam's workstation. He looks up as she approaches, and his eyes immediately flicker down to her bag.

  "Something wrong, Miss Owens?"

  "I'll be doing my work from home. I'll have an email sent off with my results by tonight."

  "Do you want to set up a meeting to discuss them?"

  He sounds hopeful. It almost hurts to tell him no, but neither of them can afford to be caught up in a scandal right now, especially with Tom doing whatever he's doing.

  "Not particularly, unless—"

  She cuts herself off. He gets the idea, and she's got nothing more to add. And then she walks out of the room. She's not going to stand here while they build her gallows.

  She's got work to do, and she's not going to watch the sabotage while she does it. Not if she can help it.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  There's not a lot for her to do at this point, so Linda Owens is waiting and watching. If she's done her job, if she's prepared Adam well, then a rally is the first step to blowing over the dating rumors.

  Just ignore it, and move on. Don't give the media more attention than they deserve, or they'll bite you in the ass. They're fickle creatures, and you can't keep the bull by the horns forever, no matter what you think. No matter who you are, not even if you're Adam Quinn.
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br />   So the simple answer is to let them have their fun, and then give them what they need, which is a strong dose of Adam Quinn, the Politician, rather than Adam Quinn, the billionaire playboy. They've had their fun, and now it's time to put that fun behind them and move on to the real campaign.

  The chair they've got her in is only slightly more comfortable than a seat made of razors, but she's got to ignore it, because this rally isn't about her. It's not about her, or really even about Adam. It's about the future President of the United States, Mr. Adam Quinn.

  It's a lot of weight for anyone to carry, without a doubt, but if anyone can handle it, if anyone can turn the press around, it's him. The lights are blindingly bright already, and he hasn't even come on yet. Rock music that doesn't seem to have any particular identity other than 'electric guitar and drums' blares out of the speakers.

  It's supposed to keep the crowd's energy up. After the first couple of speakers—she'd been one of them, by necessity rather than choice—the crowd was supposed to be a little feverish. With a little bit of luck, hopefully they've done their jobs.

  When Adam steps out, it's a mess. A thousand people want his attention all at once, and what's worse, for a long, sickening moment she suspects he'll give it to them. Hands reach out from the crowd, voices raise in alarmed desire to get him to just notice them, please, for an instant.

  His back is to her. It feels natural, somehow. Her body flushes with arousal before she can stop herself, at the thought of what could come later. She has to get control of herself. Everyone else is pressed in around her—no doubt the heat of the stage is what's getting to her.

  Adam's speech goes without a hitch. He hits all the notes we discussed. It's short, it's dramatic, it's effective. It's everything we wanted.

  And yet… something is bothering her. Something that she doesn't want to admit. The crowd isn't reacting. They should be reacting, but they're just… not. Her breath catches in her throat. What's wrong? What did they do wrong? What do they need to do next time in order to fix it? What's the problem?

  Deep breaths. She's going to figure it out. That's not the problem.

  The problem is when the question and answer portion begins. This was supposed to wipe away the dating gossip. Gossip was the last thing that they needed if they wanted to be successful. It was downright boring, and it wasn't helping poll numbers, even if they had finally stabilized after the leak.

  They needed to have people talking about the things Adam cared about—his platform. Jobs, tech growth, education, foreign relations.

  Not where he may or may not be laying his head at night. The first person to come up is a picture of the tech-industry. A minor win. She'd have to thank whoever was picking these questions, because they needed to pick right.

  He cleared his throat and hesitated for a moment. And then he finally summoned up the courage to ask his question:

  "What do you have to say to the rumors that you're in a secret relationship, Mr. Quinn?"

  Linda's eyes closed. This was going to be a long night. A long night that didn't help anyone at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  "That was a disaster." Adam's voice sounded low and angry, even to him. Almost intimidating, but no more than the worst that he'd ever done. The fact that he had to be so upset, though… that was unexpected. At least, it was unexpected when the evening had begun.

  The minute he'd walked out in front of that crowd, he'd known. He'd seen it in their faces. The cheering, the excitement, it wasn't what he expected. It felt off, and he'd known from the first word out of his mouth that they'd tuned it out.

  Too much of the same-old routine, not enough change. Not enough surprise to pull them out of their rabid thirst for celebrity gossip. Was this all he'd amounted to? A famous person who was trying to run for President?

  Was the only reason that people were drawn to him that celebrity, their chance to see one of their small gods celebrated on the grandest stage of all? There was something in the pit of his stomach that told him that eventually, the sheen would wear thin on that.

  He could still win. But he'd have to win as a politician, not as a celebrity that they hoped to get cameras on just one moment longer. The gossip was helping, in its own way, but he had to redirect it.

  "I'm sorry, Adam, it was my fault. I should have known better." Linda's eyes don't quite meet his.

  Part of him wants to agree with her. She should have known better. But so should he. So should all of them. They weren't going to change the momentum of the country without changing their message.

  "Don't beat yourself up," he says softly. His fingers tap on the table. "I want to know what happened, and I want to know how we stop it from happening next time."

  "The crowd wasn't hot enough. We needed them to be losing their minds. The first few rallies, they were. But it needs to keep going. We need momentum, and we didn't realize how much that momentum had been sapped by the girlfriend rumors."

  "Then why don't we address them?"

  "It would just be letting them continue to think of you as a gossip-rag star, rather than a serious Presidential candidate," Linda says. But her heart's not in it. She sounds like she's a little bit shocked by how everything went, altogether, and Adam really can't particularly blame her for feeling that way. "We just have to, I don't know. We have to find some way to get their attention back onto your policies, your politics."

  "Tom?"

  "We can use your celebrity status, and make the hype grow, sure. But Linda's right. Eventually, we have to pivot towards the Presidential campaign, rather than just growing your personal brand."

  Adam looked up at the ceiling and took a breath. Neither of them were saying anything that surprised him. Everyone expected something like that would have to happen, or he'd have to cut and run. Let someone else take the Presidency, because there's only so far that people will vote for a cult of personality.

  "Okay, how do we do that?"

  "A splash?" Linda sounds unsure of herself as she floats the suggestion. "We come out with something sufficiently interesting that people forget about the little celebrity stuff?"

  "Okay, like what?"

  Tom is keeping uncharacteristically quiet, Adam notices. He's barely said a thing the entire time. Whatever's got him distracted, if he wants to talk about it, he will. But he's not even dropping hints, really. Not speaking unless spoken to.

  "I don't know, maybe… a project?"

  "What sort of project?"

  "Well—I don't want to step on any toes here."

  "Say your piece," Adam says, with a hint of impatience. This isn't the time for Linda to suddenly get cold feet and pretend that she doesn't know what she's talking about. If that was what he wanted, then he'd just have hired anybody. This is weeks too late for her to get starstruck and deferential.

  "You've mentioned in passing, a few times, that your company's been working on a space-shuttle program on television?"

  "Sure. But it's not ready for full-time."

  "No, I know. If it was, I assume you'd have talked about the details. But what if we talked about where that was going? Your plans for the future, to revitalize industry by re-igniting the space race?"

  He takes a breath and considers the idea for a moment. "'Space race' implies that you're racing with someone, though. Are we?"

  Tom's gravelly voice finally cuts through the dialogue. "We can find someone. That's not a problem. You think this is a good distraction?"

  "I don't know," Adam answers honestly. "I suppose it's as good as anything."

  "Then we go with it. Give it a few days, and then we go to a smaller crowd. Maybe a press conference, maybe we get on the line with MSNBC."

  "Go with the conference. I prefer the crowds."

  "Alright, then." Linda scribbles a note on a pad of paper. "I'll have Jay take care of it in the morning."

  "Good." Adam takes another breath. The temperature in the room seems to be lowering. No more freaking out. "Then let's get to it. We don't
have time to be wasting it here, talking amongst ourselves. I'll get to prepping notes, I'll have them in your hands by tomorrow, Tom. Take a look before we get prepped, and we'll try to have put together by Friday. Sound good?"

  It sounded good to him. In his mind, it was as good a plan as they could possibly get. Now if only that plan were going to all work out the way that they wanted, they might really be able to turn this around.

  They'd better, or else it was all going to go bad. He couldn't afford another embarrassment like they'd suffered tonight. Not if he wanted to keep the momentum going.

  And once the momentum was lost, once they had a few bad nights, it was only going to get worse. Whatever energy they'd managed to gather over the past few weeks would be gone, and his Presidential hopes along with it.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The first step of anything major that Adam Quinn had done in decades was makeup. If he had his way, then they would have been able to skip that step. But they couldn't, in spite of his preferences. Because there were things that people did because of tradition, and there were things that were done because they were smart. And in the case of makeup, well… it was the smart thing.

  People can think clearly, if they try hard. But most of the time, they don't. They prefer to use their intuition, and their intuition tells them that a good-looking person won't lie to them. It's not logical, but it makes sense.

  Nobody casts an ugly hero in a film, because ugly people aren't heroic. It's a sad statement on the world, and the people in it. The better that Adam looks, the better that people will receive his ideas. There's no way around it. It's a simple reality.

  He closes his eyes as a heavy makeup brush smacks him several times in the eyes. An unfortunate, unavoidable part of the job. His job, first and foremost, is to succeed. As a businessman, he has to find ways to get people to accept his policies, get people to buy his products, and scrape the hard edges off of his personality, just enough that people aren't offended by a womanizing playboy.