The Reed Montgomery Series Box Set

by Logan Ryles

  Banks closed her eyes and breathed heavily. Her fingers trembled, and she continued sweating, even though the A/C was set on full blast.

  “I ran out. This happens sometimes. It’s a flare-up.”

  “What do you need? I’ll get it.”

  She glowered. “You got a bottle of fever-crushing antibiotics in your back pocket?”

  Reed unzipped his backpack, digging through it before tossing three different medicine bottles onto the damp blankets. “Take your pick.”

  Banks picked up the first bottle and read the label, then snorted. “My God. You really are a killer.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as an adult Boy Scout. Always prepared.”

  Banks shoved two pills into her mouth and washed them down with another gulp of water before slouching back on her pillow. Her skin, a constant alternation of flaming red and snow white, now faded into an irregular blotchy pattern of both.

  Reed took the bottle back and sat silent, watching her. “What does it do?” he asked. “The disease.”

  “It’s an infection that comes from tics. It can lay dormant for years, then ignite out of nowhere. Fevers, nausea, insomnia, aches, muscle spasms.”

  “Fainting?”

  She licked her lips. “Sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She glowered toward him. “Never say that to me about my condition again. I’m nobody’s victim.”

  Reed sat back and nodded slowly.

  The glare faded, and Banks turned her bloodshot eyes toward the ceiling. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  Reed shook his head.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  Reed folded his arms. The silence that hung between them felt heavier than a loaded Marine rucksack on an uphill run. His mouth went dry, and he clawed at the edges of his mind, searching for an answer.

  Why am I here? Did I honestly expect her to run into my arms?

  “I’m here to protect you. You’re not safe. And I’m here to find the truth.”

  Once again, her eyes closed, and her breaths came in ragged bursts. He thought she had faded away, sinking into a labored sleep, or fainting again. But then her lips parted, and she spoke in a calm whisper. “The truth about what?”

  Reed stared at his worn and battered hands, crisscrossed with dirt, scars, and healing wounds. He didn’t feel any pain, only numbness, and he was at a loss for answers. Should he tell her? Could he tell her?

  “You told me your father died in a car wreck.”

  Her lips trembled, then she gritted her teeth. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You said it was an accident.”

  Banks didn’t answer.

  “Your godfather. . . . I spoke to him about your father. In detail.”

  Banks’s eyes opened, and tears streamed out. She faced him, the rage melting away into nothing more or less than heartache. “Let me guess. He told you it wasn’t an accident. He told you Daddy was killed.”

  Reed tilted his head. “You know?”

  “Of course I know. He told everyone that story. He spent months investigating it, badgering the cops, then one day, six months after Daddy died, he just quit. Went quiet. The police finally convinced him, I guess. Daddy died from a drunk driver. I guess Uncle Mitch wanted deeper justice.”

  Reed reached out and touched the bed next to Banks. She made no move to take his hand but turned her gaze to the ceiling. Reed withdrew his hand and clenched it into a fist over his knee. Every part of him ached inside, commanding him to hold her, to comfort her. To somehow take away the hurricane in her heart that ripped her apart from the inside. But he couldn’t. Not now. The only thing he could do was what he should’ve done from day one—tell her the truth.

  “It’s true, Banks.”

  She faced him. “What’s true?”

  “Everything. My name is Reed Montgomery, and I’m a professional assassin. I was hired to kill your godfather by an underground organization that I believe he was associated with. I kidnapped him in Atlanta because keeping him alive was my best bet of saving you. While I held him captive, Mitch demanded to know if I had killed your father. The last thing he told me before he died was about the fraternity where he met Frank.”

  “What are you saying?” she whispered.

  “I’m saying your father was murdered by the same people who murdered Mitch. They also kidnapped you, sent the assassin after us in North Carolina, and murdered a very dear friend of mine. I’m here because I’m going to find them, whoever they are. I’m going to make them confess what they’ve done, and then I’m going to destroy them.”

  Sixteen

  “I’m sorry, Madam Governor. We did everything we could.”

  Maggie closed her eyes and nodded once. The doctor’s footsteps faded, and for a brief moment, the clatter and chaos of the emergency room faded with them.

  Dan touched her arm. “Maggie, I’m sorry. We have to address the media.”

  Ah, yes. The media, already clustered around the sliding doors at the entrance of the ER, ready to descend upon their governor with all the wrath and ferocity of a herd of vultures. It wasn’t that she hated the media or was unappreciative of their role in society; she simply resented their callousness. No matter the tragedy, the loss, or the heartache of the situation, the only thing a reporter cared about was the headline. That sort of detached mission-focus was the heart of Louisiana’s problems. People forgot about people.

  “Fine,” she said. “Assemble them outside. I’ll freshen up.”

  The bathroom at the end of the hall featured a small, dirty mirror, and a counter that Maggie was afraid to touch. She brushed her hair back behind her ears and held it in place with a hairband, then refreshed her makeup and lipstick. A brief survey in the mirror left her satisfied she’d avoid any media gaffs about her appearance, and she turned to the door.

  A crowd of TV and newspaper reporters was already knotted around the door, jostling each other for position as Dan barked at them to calm down and wait for Maggie. He was good at that, Maggie thought. Dan was never designed to be an executive, but he absolutely thrived as a lieutenant governor. He understood people, understood how to get the sludge moving, and most importantly, he could tell the difference between overstepping his own authority and bothering Maggie with things he should have dealt with on his own. She picked Dan, a first-time politician himself, based on his leadership qualities alone, and then only after winning the nomination. It was a bet that had already paid tremendous dividends.

  Maggie straightened the collar of her blouse and checked her reflection one more time in the sliding glass door, then straightened her back and stepped out in front of the flashing lights.

  The questions started immediately, but before Maggie could speak, Dan stepped forward and barked into the microphone. “Let me be perfectly clear. The next time we hold a press conference and questions are asked before the governor has an opportunity to make a statement, there will be no questions answered for that conference. Are we understood? Thank you.”

  Maggie nodded her thanks at Dan, then approached the middle of the crowd. Several microphones were held out toward her, and she offered a polite smile. “Thank you all for coming out on such short notice. It is with tremendous sadness that I announce that Officers Green and Maxwell, two lead members of my personal detail, passed away early this morning of wounds sustained while protecting me against an attempted assassination.”

  A low gasp rang out through the crowd. One or two reporters leaned forward, indicating an impending question, but Dan snapped his fingers, and they fell back. Maggie accepted a bottle of water from Yolanda, took a long sip, and blinked away her exhaustion. It still hadn’t registered that two of her own men were killed. It still didn’t make sense that somebody had tried to take her life. It all felt detached, as though it were happening to somebody else.

  “Officer’s Green and Maxwell were more than servants of the state. They were my friends. We often shared meals to
gether, talked football, and swapped jokes. I knew the names of their kids, and they knew how I liked my coffee. They were good men—the finest the state of Louisiana has to offer. I am grieved beyond words at their loss. It is a debt that the people of Louisiana, not to mention myself, will never be able to repay. Having said that, I have already outlined an initiative with the LSP to ensure that both officers’ families are financially sustained for life out of honor for their sacrifice. Investigations as to the identity of the assassin are underway, and we have very limited information at this time. I will now take a few questions.”

  One hand shot up before she finished speaking, and Maggie resisted a sigh. “Yes, Ms. Simmons?”

  “Can you comment on the policy in place within the LSP for death pensions of this type? I wasn’t aware that the executive branch had the authority to grant cash disbursements on command.”

  The muscles in her back tensed, and Maggie consciously relaxed to avoid appearing combative. “Existing LSP compensation programs will be leveraged to ensure the financial security of the Green and Maxwell families. Any further compensation will be arranged as required because that’s the right thing to do. Any other questions?”

  “Madam Governor, can you comment as to why this attempted assassination took place so far from the Capitol, in an unsecured rural area near Lake Maurepas?”

  Maggie shot Dan a sideways look. He shook his head, and she turned back to the crowd.

  “Details of the circumstance surrounding the attempted assassination will not be disclosed at this time to protect the integrity of the investigation.”

  “Madam Governor, don’t you think the people will find it strange that our female governor was inexplicably absent from the Capitol, attended only by her two male guards?”

  Blood and a growing rage surged into Maggie’s skull. Before answering, she waited five seconds, staring directly into the reporter’s eyes. “The Executive Office is under no obligation to report on the travel agenda or accommodations of the governor, and the people of Louisiana will have to content themselves with the public results of the investigation as soon as they are available. Thank you, everyone. That will be all.”

  Maggie turned away from the mics as questions continued to rise from the small crowd of reporters. Dan stepped in behind her and made a brief statement regarding the governor’s gratitude to the press, then followed her across the parking lot to a jet-black Tahoe waiting for them. Maggie piled inside and slammed the door, resting her head in her hands. The exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours descended on her full force, making it difficult to think clearly.

  “How did they know?” she demanded.

  Dan buckled his seatbelt and leaned back, taking a deep breath before answering. “I don’t know, Maggie. Somebody must have leaked it.”

  Maggie dug her fingers into the leather seat as the big engine rumbled and the Tahoe turned toward the Capitol.

  “Dan, you know why I was at the lake house. It’s disgusting that they would insinuate anything scandalous when two of my men are dead!” The end of her sentenced cracked, and she leaned forward into her hands again, rubbing both temples.

  “I agree with you, Maggie, but your parting shots only added fuel to that fire. I realize you don’t like the media, and I understand how you feel, but journalism is the friend of the people.”

  “That was not journalism,” Maggie snapped. “That was fishing for tabloid gossip.”

  Dan handed her a bottle of water and waited for her to take a sip before replying. “Again, I agree. But you have to be very careful not to come across too aggressively. It will hurt you more than it helps. Most of those reporters are manipulative and drama-hungry, and the way you manage that is by feeding them the drama you want proliferated. But you have to do it without appearing to do it. Do you understand? You have to play this smart.”

  Maggie stared out the window, watching the city streets and stoplights flash by. The exhaustion she felt in her soul was deeper than just a lack of sleep. It was true, total frustration with every aspect of her life.

  “This is exactly why I hate politics,” she muttered.

  Dan grunted. “Yep. And it’s exactly why the state needs you now more than ever. You’re here to fix things, to root out the corruption, and to bring Baton Rouge back from the depths. But these things take time, and you have to work with what you have. That includes the media.”

  Maggie stared through the glass. Dan was right; it was why she picked him in the first place. His measured ability to view things objectively was the counterpart of her fire-and-brimstone approach to destroying corruption. Dan knew how to get things done effectively, and Maggie knew how to get the people behind her to do it in the first place. The instincts that helped her win the election she never wanted to win were still sharp and strong, and they spoke to her now. They told her Dan was right. She completely mishandled the media, and there would be hell to pay for it.

  “Have you heard back from Lieutenant Colonel Jackson?”

  Dan sighed. “Yes, I got an email an hour ago.”

  “And?”

  “They confirmed the presence of poison. It’ll take a day or two for the autopsy to confirm the exact type and amount, but at this time we are certain Attorney General Matthews died of unnatural means.”

  “So, he was assassinated.”

  “It looks that way. Again, we’ll need more time to formulate an official report.”

  “That’s fine. Where are you with the special election?”

  “We can announce dates next week. My recommendation is to hold the general election no sooner than eight months from now, to give time for the primaries. I know you want to rush it, but—”

  “No, I agree. Eight months is fine. What about an intermediary?”

  Dan lifted his briefcase off the floor and clicked it open. “Because we have to hold a special election, you need to appoint an acting attorney general. I’ve already assembled a list of suggestions that—”

  “Robert Coulier.”

  The SUV fell deathly quiet as Maggie rubbed her bottom lip.

  Dan shut the briefcase. “Is that a joke?”

  “Do I sound like I’m joking?”

  “Maggie, he’s been disbarred. He doesn’t even live here!”

  “He’s been disbarred in Texas. His law license is still active in Louisiana. He maintains an address in Shreveport, and has for more than five years. That makes him a resident, and thereby qualifies him for the office.”

  “Maggie, look at me, please.”

  She took another sip of water and faced Dan. The fear in his eyes was that of a person who’s been pushed too far out of his comfort zone. She had seen that look several times before. Dan never liked to play the wildcards. Then again, Dan wasn’t the governor.

  “You can’t put a man like that in office.”

  “Actually, I can. I’m governor. You said so yourself.”

  Dan laid both hands over his knees and wrapped his fingers into his cotton slacks. “What I mean is, if you do this, the media will have a feeding frenzy. It’ll be open season on your every move. The critics will go wild. You could easily lose the faith of the public—”

  “The public elected me less than a year ago. They elected me to do a job—to lead this state and destroy corruption. That’s what I’m going to do. The worst that could happen is they don’t reelect me. In the meantime, I need somebody in the AG’s office with teeth. I have no guarantee who will be elected to fill that spot, or how spineless they may be. That means I have eight months to get as much done as possible, and I need a pit bull to make it happen. Coulier is a pit bull if ever I met one.”

  “You’re right, and that’s why he was disbarred. He pushes too hard. Gets too aggressive. You put a man like that in the Capitol, and you’ll have every corrupt politician, aid, lobbyist, and pundit turned against you overnight. They’ll panic. They’ll band together.”

  A faint smile played at the corners of Maggie’s mouth. “Outstanding. That’
s exactly what we want. Set up a meeting with Coulier.”

  Seventeen

  “I should gut you.”

  Reed sat with his hands in his lap, watching as Banks slurped down mouthfuls of chicken noodle soup. “That’s a fair sentiment.”

  Banks scooped up another puny chunk of chicken and gulped it down, then leaned back and surveyed him through tired eyes. “What the hell happened to your throat?”

  Reed touched his neck. He hadn’t taken a look in the mirror since the incident in Chattanooga, but he imagined the skin to be purple by now. Every breath and swallow hurt like hell, only mildly subdued by the Tylenol pills he swallowed earlier that day. “That guy from the mountains. Bumped into him again.”

  Banks grunted. “Pity he didn’t finish the job.”

  The words stung, sinking deep into his soul. He wondered if she felt any of the confused, twisted emotions that now dominated his heart. Did she ache, longing for the way things had felt before? Or did she simply hate him beyond words?

  “I’m sure he’ll be back. Maybe you’ll get your wish.”

  “Maybe I’ll help him.” Her tone was bitter and cold, with no hint of sarcasm or hesitation.

  “Don’t you want to know?” Reed asked. “Don’t you want the truth about what happened to your father?”

  Banks lingered over her bowl, staring into the yellow depths of the broth and poking at the noodles with her spoon. “What if I do?”

  “That’s something I can help with.”

  She glared at him.

  “Banks, I’m not trying to win you back. I know I’m a horrible person. But there are people out there who are worse than me. They killed Mitch, and I believe they killed your father. I want revenge . . . for your people and mine.”

  “What was her name?” Banks spat the question.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your friend. It was a she, right? Another woman?”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, dammit. What was her name?”