by Chelle Bliss
When the doors open and I turn the corner to my unit, Carl is standing outside my door. He’s pacing back and forth, talking on the phone with one arm waving wildly.
“Motherfucker,” I seethe and start to go at him with my fist halfway through the air.
He weaves, dipping down to avoid my fist, and drops his phone. “Wait!”
My hand stops inches from him, and it takes everything in me not to follow through or at least kick him while he’s down.
“We have a major problem,” he says, leaning over to pick up the phone with one hand and protecting his face with the other. “I gotta call you back.” He shoves the phone in his pocket and straightens his suit as he stands.
“I don’t need to hear your bullshit, Carl.” I push him to the side and pull out my key. “You no longer work for me. So I have a problem…you don’t.”
He steps to the side, glaring at me as I unlock the door. “You need me, Jude. The Preston camp is fighting back.”
“Let them,” I tell him, my voice louder than usual.
Carl peers around me and checks the hallway before trying to block the doorway. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t need to.”
I have one foot inside when he blurts, “Garrett Salizar.”
I freeze at the mention of the asshole’s name. We fought together, we’re brothers in arms, but when I was awarded the medal, he was the only person in my squad to complain. He tried to get the other members who fought at my side that day to speak out against me, but he didn’t have any support. He felt he should’ve received the medal instead of me.
“Fuck him,” I tell Carl while I’m closing the door.
He sticks his foot in the doorway. “His face is on every major news channel, even CNN and Fox News.”
“No one’s going to believe his lies, Carl.”
“Oh, but they are,” he says with a shitty, sly smile. “Your story is bigger than the Preston one now. Stan’s story is not the headliner anymore—you are.”
“Fucking hell,” I groan and drag my hands through my hair. I’m completely torn. Part of me is happy Reagan is no longer the object of public fodder, but the thought that Salizar is getting his fifteen minutes of glory and dragging my name through the mud has my anger level near nuclear.
Carl takes the chance to slip inside my apartment. “You need to schedule a press conference as soon as possible to shut down his lies.” He closes the door and heads straight for my bar. “Want one?” he asks without looking at me.
I walk to the windows that line the wall facing the Chicago skyline and wonder how everything got so fucked up in such a short amount of time. “Not at ten in the morning.”
“Suit yourself.”
I’m so lost in thought I barely hear Carl’s footsteps behind me before the television turns on.
“Mr. Salizar, Amy Crofton from the Chicago Star, my question for you is—why did you wait so long to speak out against Mr. Titan?”
I don’t turn around, and I keep my eyes pinned on the buildings in the distance.
“He’s made out to be a hero, and the people of Illinois want to vote for him because of his honor, but he has none. He wasn’t the only man to fight that day, but he had no problem taking the credit for saving the lives of his brothers.”
“But he did save their lives, sir?” the reporter shoots back.
“It was a group effort. Mr. Titan didn’t do it on his own,” Salizar says in a shaky voice and clears his throat. “There were a handful of us who fought by his side that day, even with our injuries, and not all of us made it out alive. He didn’t do anything special or heroic that day. He’s just a glory hog using the death of his fellow soldiers to gain a position in the American government that he doesn’t deserve.”
“So you’re calling him a liar?”
“If Jude Titan deserves a medal, then so do I.”
“Mr. Salizar, Carter Morris from the Illinois Observer. So you’re saying that the account from that night is inaccurate and that Jude Titan didn’t save the lives that night?”
“As I said before, I fought by his side that night. I did everything he did, yet I don’t have a medal. I’m not running for Senate. Jude Titan is just a poster child with a pretty face who’s using his experience for his own personal gain. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone but himself.”
There’s a murmur in the crowd, and I can’t listen to him talk anymore. I push open the sliding doors and step out onto my balcony. Carl’s phone has been ringing nonstop since he walked in, and soon mine starts to follow suit.
I reach for it, my heart pounding frantically in my chest with the hopes that Reagan is calling me. When I see it’s Jim, I hang my head but answer.
“What the fuck is up with Salizar?” Jim says quickly before I can even say hello.
I lean my body over the railing and grip the metal in my hand, trying to squeeze out my anger and frustration. “I don’t know. We knew he was an asshole when he started this shit years ago, but I never thought he’d come out during my campaign spouting the same bullshit that had already been put to bed.”
“He’s the glory hog in this entire ordeal.”
“Well, he’s talking, and the media is listening.”
“Don’t worry, Jude. The guys and I have your back. The text messages are coming in already, and we’re going to find a way to shut his mouth and prove you’re the man everyone thinks you are.”
“Jim, I appreciate the gesture. But I don’t want you guys exposed any more than you already have been. To relive that day is too painful for many of the guys. Just let things play out. I’m sure the media will find a new story to follow soon, and Salizar will quickly be forgotten.”
“You let me do what I need to do here, buddy. I’ll always have your back like you had mine. I know all the guys feel the same too.”
“Jim—” I say, but he cuts me off.
“Got to run. The other line is ringing, and I have plans to make.”
“Don’t,” I say, but it’s futile—he’s already hung up.
Carl’s chattering on the phone in the living room and pacing around my loft when I turn around. He started this mess. Releasing the photos of Reagan’s father was the flame that ignited the explosion today.
I promised Reagan the photos would remain hidden and the story buried. She fought back the only way she could—by trying to ruin my name in the same manner.
I don’t have an affair or a secret love child in my closet, but since I run on my honor and my word, it’s the easiest thing to try to destroy.
It isn’t the words of Salizar or the possible end of my candidacy that makes my chest ache—it’s the thought I’ve lost Reagan forever.
Chapter 26
I grip the edges of the lectern, hoping to still my shaking hands. After a deep breath, I look right at the cameras and say the words to the gathered crowd of reporters that I can still hardly believe myself.
“Thanks for coming today. It is with a heavy heart that I announce I’m dropping out of the Senate race, effective immediately.”
There’s a collective gasp of surprise. Everyone thought I called this press conference to respond to the news of my father’s infidelity. It’s two days into my week-long break, and yesterday I told Lexi I needed to do this. I told the rest of my staff this morning.
Questions are hurled at me so fast I can’t make out a single one of them over the noise. I put up a hand for quiet and go back to my prepared statement.
“To my supporters: I’m deeply sorry I can’t finish what we started together. Your support has meant so much. Please know this is the right decision for me. I won’t be taking any questions or granting any interviews in the immediate future. Thank you.”
The questions are shouted out rapid-fire.
“Is this because of your father’s affair?”
“Is it true you have two siblings you never knew about?”
“Are your parents divorcing?”
I ignore them
and step away from the lectern. Lexi leads me toward a small room with an exit she’s planning to use to sneak me out of here.
The reporters are only doing their jobs, but they have no idea how deeply this scandal has cut into my family. I spent the past two days with my mom, who is devastated. Beyond devastated. Yes, she is filing for divorce, but the whole thing is gut-wrenching for her. She feels like a fool for thinking my father was working all those times he obviously wasn’t. She never thought she’d be starting over this way at age fifty-two, with no work experience.
“Almost there,” Lexi murmurs as we approach the door to the room. The cameras are flashing, and I’m keeping my expression stony.
We’re in a conference room of the ornately beautiful Palmer House, which holds memories of Jude and me. I didn’t want to tell Lexi to schedule it somewhere else after she set it up.
When we make it into the room and she closes the door, I sigh deeply and open the bottle of water she passes me.
“Thanks,” I say softly. “For everything, Lex.”
“Anytime.”
I laugh a single note. “Yeah, let’s never do this again.”
“You ended it on your terms, Reagan. You could have issued a press release, but you got up there and said the words. That takes guts. I’m proud of you.”
She hugs me and I close my eyes, feeling about a thousand pounds lighter now. It’s over. Not just the announcement, but all of it. No more living to meet my father’s goals and expectations. I’ll be doing what I want from now on, and it feels amazing.
“How do we get out of here?” I ask Lexi, pulling away.
“I think we should lay low in here for a few minutes. That door—” she points to a door on the other side of the room than the one we entered through “—goes to a hallway that leads to the kitchen.”
We’re both looking at the door in question when it opens. Jude walks into the room, wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a black White Sox cap.
I’m too stunned to speak for a couple seconds, but when I recover, I cross the room, my eyes narrowed.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you here to gloat? Kick me while I’m down?”
His steely gaze is locked on me. “You know me better than that, Reagan. We need to talk.”
“Not now. It’s over, Jude. You’ve got a clear road to the Senate. There’s nothing more you can get from me.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he says in a low, angry tone.
Lexi slips from the room, and Jude and I are left staring each other down.
“We’re going upstairs to talk,” he says firmly.
“If you’ve got something to say, say it right here.”
“We can’t stay in here. I risked a hell of a lot coming in here, Reagan. This place is crawling with reporters. We need to lay low upstairs.”
“Lay low, huh? Why fuck me now, Jude? You’ve got everything you wanted from me.”
He leans closer, his dark eyes so intense I almost have to look away. “Push all you want. I’m not leaving until we talk. You can walk, or I can throw you over my shoulder.”
“You’d lose everything if you got caught carrying me up to a room against my will.”
“I’ll do it,” he says in a level tone. “You’ve been blowing me off for three goddamn days, Reagan. I’m going out of my mind.”
I shake my head in disgust. “You’ve been going out of your mind? How do you think I feel? How do you think my mother feels?”
He reaches for my waist, and I step back, sighing softly. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Jude leads the way out of the room, his head down. He takes me through the kitchen, where he slips a bill into the hand of a guy in a cook’s uniform, and we’re led to a tiny elevator off the main cooking area.
Once the doors close us in the elevator, Jude wraps my hand into his. I should pull away, but I can’t. When he draws my fingers up to his lips and kisses them, I feel the warm swirling in my belly he always creates when we touch. My fingertips graze over his dark stubble.
“Did you tell Carl to release the photos?” I ask in a whisper.
“Look at me.”
I look up, and our eyes meet.
“You know I didn’t, Reagan. Just like I know you didn’t authorize that shit with Salizar.”
I nod. “Carl.”
“Carl,” Jude confirms. “And the fucker’s fired, though he’s still in denial about it.”
“I wondered. I mean, I hoped…crazy as that sounds.”
The elevator doors open. Jude pulls his cap down lower and leads me by the hand to a room, which he scans a keycard for.
My heart is hammering as we step inside, and Jude pulls me into his arms.
“Don’t doubt me,” he says in my ear. “I’m not your father.”
I sigh deeply, soaking in the smell and feel of him. “I’m sorry. I knew we needed to talk about it, I just…I’ve been with my mom, and…I was assuming the worst to protect myself, I guess.”
He pulls away and meets my eyes. “You don’t need to protect yourself from me, Reagan. I am your protection.”
His tone is so earnest, his expression so sincere, that tears fill my eyes. I nod and press myself against him, letting his arms bring the comfort I need.
“I think there’s a pretty good chance you’re gonna win,” I say, laughing softly.
“I don’t care about that right now.” He pulls back and cups my cheeks in his big hands. “Why’d you drop out? I wish you would’ve talked to me about it first.”
“I had to. I wanted to. I was running for all the wrong reasons, and my dad wanted me to stay in so he could still deliver votes… And…that’s not me.”
“He’s an asshole.” Jude’s muscles are hard with tension. “I hate that he ruined this for you.”
“This decision was for me. Staying in would have been for him.”
“Promise me you mean that.”
“I promise.”
His body relaxes slightly. “This means we can be together. No more sneaking around.”
“I don’t know, Jude. I think we should keep it on the down low at least until the election is over. Your party will distance themselves from you. This is unheard of.”
He shrugs. “So let’s change that. I’m crossing the aisle in a big way here, right?”
The gleam in his eyes makes me laugh. “You can cross my aisle anytime you want.”
“Believe me, I plan to.” He leans down and kisses me. “I want you on my bus. In my hotel rooms. Beside me at speeches.”
My lips part with shock. “Are you serious?”
He squeezes my ass, molding our bodies together until I feel his erection against my lower belly.
“Does this feel serious to you?”
“I’m not becoming your campaign-trail fucktoy.”
“No, you’re becoming my girlfriend. I need you there with me, Reagan. Your experience, your support…all of you.”
The thought of campaigning with Jude makes me smile. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. But before we make this official, any skeletons in your closet I need to be aware of?”
My heart sinks as I remember the one thing I haven’t told him yet. “I slept with Tom Harbor.”
His muscles tighten again. “When?”
“Um…nine years ago. He told me he was separated from his wife, but he lied.”
Jude lets out a deep breath. “Fuck. I thought you meant in the last couple days. I already know about the thing nine years ago.”
“You do? And you didn’t tell me?”
He shrugs. “I knew it would stress you out to know my campaign knew. And I never would have used the information.”
I nod. “Any skeletons in your closet?”
“Nothing you don’t already know about. My bad dreams and survivor guilt from combat service may be permanent—I don’t know yet.”
I feel a tug in my heart for this man who has come to mean so much to me in a very short time. “If you ev
er want to talk about it, or not talk about it…I’m here.”
He reaches up to my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “I know. And I want you to stay that way. The party establishment and news stories don’t mean shit to me, Reagan. It’s you I care about—and making a difference for all the brothers who need a voice in DC.”
“My father will think I’ve switched parties,” I say softly. “And that gives me great satisfaction.”
“You’re gonna need to let go of all that in time, you know. Don’t let him keep any hold on you.”
“You’re right.”
“Get used to it.”
God, I love that smirk. It sets me on fire. When Jude lowers his lips to mine, I meet him halfway. Our soft kiss quickly becomes more. I let the sensations sweep me under: his strong hands on my hips, his muffled groan as I lie down on the bed and he lowers himself onto me, the mingling lust and adoration I see in his eyes.
“I love you,” I say softly in his ear. “So much, Jude.”
“I love you, too. You’ll always come first with me.”
I smile. “When you say come first, do you mean that figuratively?”
His laugh is low and sexy. “I mean it both figuratively and literally, baby.”
My response becomes a moan as he rotates his hips against mine. The man really knows how to get me going.
“I think we should stay in here for at least the next twenty-four hours,” he says, his breath warm on my neck.
He kisses my collarbone, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “That sounds incredible. You know, you should really be making the rounds on the TV circuit. They’ll all want to interview you about me dropping out.”
“They can fuck off. I’m not leaving this room ’til tomorrow.”
“Mmm.”
He’s pulled my shirt up and over my head and is kissing his way down to my stomach. I run my fingertips over his scalp, pulling gently on his hair. He groans against my skin.
“You want it like that?” he asks, his tongue tracing beneath the waistband of my pants where he just unbuttoned them. “Would you like a hair-pulling, mind-numbing, sweaty fucking from me, Ms. Preston?”