QUAGMIRE

TRUE COLORS

BOOK TWELVE

CAROLINA MAC

D.K. MAC

Copyright © 2025 by Carolina Mac & D.K. Mac

QUAGMIRE - 1st ed.

ISBN – 978-1-990882-73-9

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Quagmire: A difficult, precarious or entrapping position.

― OXFORD DICTIONARIES

PREFACE

Cast of Characters

President of the United States

Lee Armstrong

Vice President of the United States

Nathan Walsh

Secretary of State

Jesse Quantrall

Deputy Secretary of State

Charles Radeska

Director of the NSA

Blaine Dunnett

Director of the CIA

Benjamin Vipond

Attorney General

Sam Quan

Speaker of the House

Patrick Rasmid

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs

General Carl Richardson

Leader of HTS

Elias Al Mahmoud

President of Argentina

Rafael Cervantes

US Ambassador to Argentina

Franklin Velasco

Prime Minister of England

Charles Winfield

President of Iran

Darius Ahmadi

Head of the IRGC

Tarek Quasim

US Marshall

Thomas Donovan

CHAPTER ONE

Tuesday, December 24th.

Christmas Eve

Quanah Kahni Farm Butler. Texas.

The doorbell rang, and I panicked.

My hand immediately reached for my Eagle, but I wasn’t strapped. Never am at home.

Then logic caught up. Always does, eventually.

Got off my ass and checked my front door camera.

Delores, the cleaning lady. Shoulda known.

Never had a hired killer ring the doorbell before. They rarely pop by for breakfast. Killers like to sleep in. Except me.

My new security system was always active, and I got a new, tall metal fence all across the front of my land and around my house and barn. Cameras and motion detectors.

Got me a compound.

Blacky wanted me to be ready…just in case some asshole with a bigger brain than mine might find a way in.

And I had Alfie. My hillbilly alarm system. Nothin’ got by him.

Intercom and camera at the gate and that’s why I couldn’t figure out how somebody could be ringing the doorbell. I had these moments since my head got bashed in.

Course Delores had the gate code, and it all made sense. I opened the door and let her in. “Sorry, it took me so long, ma’am. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Marshal Donovan.”

Delores wheeled her cleaning cart past me and my first reflex was to tackle her, cuff her and search the cart.

Sweet baby Jesus, I was working way too much. She was my goddamn cleaning lady for chrissakes.

Delores was already in the kitchen, chatting with Ellis, so I headed back to the family room. Based on the laughs and screams of the kids, it sounded like one hell of a play session, and I didn’t want to miss a second.

I already missed too many.

Laying on the floor playing trucks, the delicious smell of Ellis’s pies baking in the oven was making my stomach growl.

Tomorrow would be my first Christmas dinner in my new house, and I invited my family—Lukas and Aunt Gail, Kamps and Roy, and, of course, Farrell.

Farrell always spent Christmas with Annie and Neil at Coulter-Ross, but this year was a little different for him. Ellis lived here at my house and wherever Ellis was, that’s where you’d find Farrell.

Suited me fine. He was my cousin and my best bud—when we weren’t fighting. Close as brothers. We used to hang out and drink our faces off. Now, we hang around with Ellis and the kids.

Way more fun, far less hangovers.

Sometimes, she would go over to his place, but she’d never mentioned moving back. After his last meltdown, she was taking her sweet old time with that decision.

My Christmas shopping was all done and Ricki wrapped it all for me. All but her own stuff, and Ellis wrapped that. I bought her kick-ass leather boots and a bracelet I liked. Lady at the jewelry store called it a tennis bracelet. Lots of sparkly diamonds.

I’d already bought her the couples ring—that’s what she called it. She loved it and never took it off—kept looking at it.

I bought her more stuff too. Seemed like every time I went out I bought her something else—like when I went to the feedstore I bought her a blanket for her horse, just because I liked it.

We were pretty happy together as a couple. As happy as I could be with Annie and Mateo together. Guess I’d never get any happier than I was right now, so I might as well roll with it. Top of the happy ladder. Wasn’t going any higher.

Been thinking about asking Ricki to move in with me, but things were perfect the way they were now. She lives on the ranch next door, about three minutes away. Why spoil it?

Delores finished up and before she left, I called the kids to give her the Christmas present Ellis had wrapped for her along with the envelope with what I owed her, and some extra cash for a holiday bonus.

“Happy holidays, everyone,” called Delores.

I carried her caddy out to her SUV and put it in the hatch for her. “Have a great holiday, Delores.”

“Thank you, Marshal.”

I pressed the remote to open the gate and watched Delores drive away. Ellis and I both liked her. So fuckin’ few people you could depend on these days. When you found one, you had to hang on tight.

Even fewer dependable folks in D.C. At the Cap, all you had were cheaters and liars—and those were the people at the top of the agencies—the ones who were protecting us and running the country.

What a fuckin’ mess.

Thought about cleaning it up in the new year, but with my head giving me so much trouble, I wasn’t sure I had the stamina to do it alone.

Squeezing past Ellis to get to the fridge, I grabbed a beer and went into my office behind the pantry. She called after me, “You look too tired to work, Tommy. Why don’t you forget all about your office until after Christmas?”

“Yep.” She wasn’t wrong. I was beat. “Won’t be long. Only making a couple of calls.”

My new secure space installed behind the pantry was the perfect spot for private phone calls and all of my classified information. Blacky had designed it, and it had everything. Cost me a bundle, but it was the bomb.

Before I got my first call made, Vipond called to wish me a Merry Christmas. “Hey, Ben. How’s it going at Spookville?”

“Very funny, Tommy. Back in my office where I should be, and it feels right. Thanks again for the assist with that.”

“My pleasure as long as you keep being a team player.”

“That’s theplan. I’m a new man. Speaking of ‘new,’ I have something to talk to you about in the new year.”

“Sure. Looking forward to it.”

I’m not looking forward to it and I might not work next year. Ricki doesn’t want me to.

I could make a living singing three or four nights a week and it wasn’t like work to me. Doing something I loved doing. And I might have time to finish my CD. That would help me out financially too. Not that I needed help. At twenty-five, I was all set.

Milligan Ranch. Butler. Texas.

Amanda Milligan invited me and the kids over to her place for Christmas Eve dinner. Ellis dressed the kids up in their new Christmas outfits and we took pictures of them for twenty minutes before I put their coats on and shuffled them out to the truck.

“Where we going, Daddy?” asked Simka.

“We’re going to Ricki’s house.”

They screamed in delight, the way only small kids could.

They were excited when we got to Ricki’s house because they’d been there lots of times and they liked Ricki’s Mom a lot. She fussed over them like she was their granny, and they lapped it up. I had a present for Amanda and the kids were hyped to give it to her.

When we pulled into the driveway, Ricki ran outside to help me get them out of their car seats. “Oh, they look so adorable in those outfits. Did you take pictures?”

“I took loads before we left to come over.”

Simka clutched the gift for Amanda like it was gold. Lincoln, seeing his sister with something he didn’t have, started wailing.

“Shoulda bought two,” I muttered. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Ricki hoisted Lincoln onto her hip. “Don’t cry, cutie pie. I’ve got a present you can give Mom.”

Amanda was so happy to have us at her house for Christmas Eve, it made Ricki shed a tear. The table was all set fancy, and I knew right off I wouldn’t know which fuckin’ fork to use.

Dinner was great. Amanda Milligan was a great cook and a nice person. She’d picked a shit husband for herself, but that problem had been corrected by me…permanently.

After dinner we played with the kids on the living room carpet until it was time to take them home to bed.

Ricki went with me, and we got them into their pajamas and tucked them in so Ellis could spend Christmas Eve with Farrell.

Once the kids were asleep, me and Ricki left Ellis and Farrell with the baby monitor and went to Boots.

Boots & Saddles Roadhouse. Giddings.

Boots was a sellout. Only Tuesday, but Annie had advertised a live band for Christmas Eve, pitchers of beer on special and a prize for the ugliest Christmas sweater. The place was packed.

I was advertised as a special guest singer, but I doubted anybody came just to hear me sing.

My eyes met Annie’s as we walked in, and she gestured for me to come see her later, alone. I nodded.

Ricki’s eyes sparkled under the neon bar glow. “Wow, look at the crowd, Tommy. Where do we sit?”

I laced my fingers through hers and led her in. “We’re sitting with the band, baby. We’ll dance when I ain’t playing.”

“Good call. The guys in the band are always so nice.”

I snickered and tilted my head. “I’m sure they are.”

“Beau Quantrall is super nice.”

I stiffened. “Yeah, I’ve seen how super nice Beau Quantrall looks at you.”

Ricki laughed. “You’ve got no worries.”

Maybe not about you, but I’ve got plenty of worries.

We danced twice before I had to get on the stage and sing. While I was up there I had a bird’s-eye view of the crowd and that’s when I saw him—dipshit Eric. Ricki’s ex. He had his hands all over Ricki’s killer body, and they were dancing real close. Too fuckin’ close for my liking.

Pissed me off, but I couldn’t do much about it from the stage except throw my guitar at him or shoot him in the fuckin’ head—tempting as that was. I settled for glaring and maybe strumming too hard. The only thing stopping me from pulling my Desert Eagle was the fact that I needed both hands for my guitar.

The weight of the Eagle was comforting. Jammed down my waistband, digging into my back.

I sang three in a row and then jumped down and sat at the band table waiting for Ricki to come back from her dance marathon.

She returned to the band table glowing like a goddamned Christmas angel. “You danced three in a row with dipshit Eric?”

Ricki shrugged, taking a swig of her drink. “He’s not a dipshit.”

I raised my voice, and the band members all found somethin’ on the far wall to stare at. “Then we got different definitions of the word.”

She tilted her head, looking at me like I’d lost it. “Relax, Tommy. It’s not like we’re strangers.”

Something in my gut clenched. “Explain.”

She shifted in her seat, eyes dodging mine. Her body said she was here with me. Her eyes said something else. “How can we be strangers? We dated, and we still talk all the time.”

“You do?”

“Eric still loves me and asks me to come back to him at least once a week.”

My stomach dropped. “You see Eric once a week? I find that…interesting.”

“I felt bad when we broke up and I told him he could come over to my place on Monday nights. I’m usually bored on Mondays anyway.”

The room tilted. The Christmas lights blurred. “What are you saying?”

Ricki sighed like I was being difficult. “You and I never hang out on Mondays, and it helps him ease into the breakup, he says. We go for walks, ride horses, and watch movies. He’s nice company when you’re not around.”

I gritted my teeth, sensing there was more. “What else do you do? Be honest.”

She looked at me like I was an idiot, then shrugged. “Mostly blow jobs or hand jobs. Don’t worry—we rarely have sex.”

I felt the dizzies comin’ back. “But I bought you a ‘couples ring to show people we’re together. Two people, not three, Ricki.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s no big deal, Tommy. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t love him like I love you.”

I stopped breathing.

“You can’t have Eric over on Mondays if we’re a couple.”

“Sure I can. I’m not a couple with Eric.”

“What?”

“Are you mad at me now, Tommy?”

“No. I’m mad at myself for trying to have a relationship when I’m away so much. It doesn’t fuckin’ work.”

“Please don’t be mad at me, Tommy. It’s Christmas and I want to have fun.”

I stood. The chair scraped back loud enough to turn heads. My fingers flexed, itching for something to break. Instead, I forced a smile. A brittle, razor-edged thing.

“I have to sing.”

But I wasn’t sure if I could sing anymore, the taste of bile so strong in my mouth.

I stomped up onto the stage and let it all out—a cheatin’ song straight from my gut. Every note tasted like ash.

When I got off the stage, I knew I had to get away from her. So, I told Ricki I had to hit the can, but I veered left—straight for Annie’s office.

I knocked. She let me in. “You looking for me?”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, pressing a small box into my hand.

I opened it. A gorgeous ring. Bold. Heavy. Hers.

She took my hand and slid it onto my finger. “This ring is a placeholder for later,” she whispered. “But I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

My throat tightened. I pulled out the anklet I’d bought her and fastened it around her leg. My hand lingered, running up her calf.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around my neck. “They can’t stop us, Tommy. Mateo’s here, and you have Ricki. But we know the truth.”

I kissed her. Deep. Long.

Then I bolted before I put my boot through the fuckin’ wall.

Milligan Ranch. Butler. Texas.

After the last set at Boots, I dropped Ricki off at her ranch and as she jumped out of the truck, I hollered, “Have a nice Christmas with Eric.”

She cried and yelled back at me, “My Christmas plans are with you, Tommy. I want to see the kids open their presents in the morning.”

She cried harder and I should’ve jammed the truck into reverse and got the hell out of there.

I sucked in gulps of oxygen to calm down. “Okay, here it is. You and your mom can come for Christmas, but we’re officially done. Today was our last day as a couple. As far as I’m concerned, you’re with old Eric from here on in.”

“I don’t understand why you’re breaking up with me, Tommy.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ricki, You’re having sex with your old boyfriend. Shit, he never even made it to ‘old boyfriend’ status. He’s your Monday boyfriend, and I can’t abide that, Ricki.”

As Ricki bawled, trying to explain, I rolled up my window and took off for home, feeling like I’d been hit with a fuckin’ sledge.

Wasn’t expecting it from Ricki. I trusted her.

But in another way, I felt good about me and Annie, even though we were on hold.

She was the only one I loved. The wedding ring was on my finger, and I trusted her completely.

CHAPTER TWO

Wednesday, December 25th.

Christmas Day.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

I was awake at six, my usual time. The kids weren’t old enough to get up early to see what Santa brought them. A couple more years before that would happen.

My first thought was Ricki and what a mess she’d made of Christmas. All my plans for a fun, happy family day were swirling around the drain.

I’d forget about Ricki and focus on the kids and my family. That’s all I could do. It wasn’t like my heart was broken. It wasn’t. Any trust we had between us was gone.

Anybody I happened to be seeing was only a place holder until I had the real thing. I touched the smoking ring on my fourth finger and smiled. Gold and diamonds. I wondered if it was engraved. That would be something Annie would do. Send me one of her secret messages. I fuckin’ loved getting those.

I slipped it off and read the inside of the band.

You can’t help who you love.

My heart pounded as I put the ring back on and felt at peace. I sat on the side of the bed, reached for my smokes and thought about punching Eric, the dipshit, in the nuts hard enough to put him out of commission for at least this coming Monday. A little harder and his grandkids would come out with bruises.

But other than wanting to smash Eric, breaking up with Ricki didn’t bother me. I was over it. What bothered me the most was when some jerk put it over me. Especially somebody as jerky as Eric the dipshit cowboy.

All I had to do was get through the day and she’d be out of my life.

Halfway through my smoke, I heard Linc calling me from the nursery. “Daddy.”

“I’m coming, buddy.” Ellis was training them, and I tried to get to him and Simka right away when they called, so I wasn’t the cause of any accidents.

“Daddy’s here. Anybody need the potty?”

Simka put up her hand. Ellis told me she was fully trained, but Linc was a bit behind. He’d catch up soon and then there would be no more diapers.

Farrell came over early and we had a big Christmas breakfast. Ellis made waffles and sausages, and the kids loved the waffles floating in syrup.

“I wanted to be here early,” said Farrell. “No way I’m missing the kids opening their presents.”

Right after we finished eating, Ricki and her mother arrived. I hadn’t mentioned the breakup to Farrell because I didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. I’d wait until Christmas was over and done with.

Ricki hugged me at the door, then ran into the family room and put a lot more presents under the tree. Amanda Milligan brought a bagful of gifts too, and I felt bad about that.

She was looking for a wedding for her daughter and had dropped a few hints on me. I wasn’t ready to marry anybody, and for sure I wouldn’t be marrying Ricki Milligan. In my mind, I was already married.

Watching the kids open their gifts was a hoot and we all enjoyed it. Farrell took videos of the kids and got closeups of their faces when they opened something that made them squeal.

Made me wish Sundance was here to see Lincoln. I’d thought of it before but made up my mind that in the new year, I’d go up to Oklahoma to the reservation and try to find the family Sundance ran away from.

I never did get that whole story from her.

Mid-afternoon, Lukas arrived, and he brought Aunt Gail and Kamps and Roy with him.

I got beer for all the men, and Ellis made Mimosas for the ladies and Roy. I helped her put the snacks into one of our new bowl sets and wheeled them into the living room on our fancy new bar cart.

The situation with Ricki was awkward for me, but I tried to make sure it wasn’t awkward for our guests. I wanted everybody to have fun. This was our first big party in my new house.

Ricki pulled me aside and said, “Thank you for everything you bought me, Tommy. I’m sad we’re not going to be a couple anymore and I’m returning the ring. It was expensive and you might want to take it back to the store.”

“Thanks.” I shoved the ring into my pocket wondering if I could get my money back.

Maybe I can sell it to Eric at a discount and get at least half my money back.

Aunt Gail and Amanda helped Ellis with dinner, and it turned out fantastic. Farrell did much better carving the turkey this time than he did at Thanksgiving, and I gave him a thumbs up.

“This is a great house, Tommy,” said Kamps. “Took a while to build it, but it’s fantastic. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. We love it, don’t we, Ellis?”

“The open concept is wonderful for keeping track of the kids. I can be in the kitchen or living room and still see where they are and what they’re doing.”

Lukas didn’t say much but I watched him a couple of times and he was playing with the new toys the kids got and having a time. He related to the kids a lot better than he did to adults.

Later when everybody was leaving, I saw Farrell talking to Lukas beside his truck. Couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it looked intense. Lukas was always worrying about something, and he was probably talking to Farrell about me. Wouldn’t surprise me at all.

Farrell blew out a puff of smoke. “Being with him almost every day since he’s been home, I definitely think there’s something wrong with Tommy’s head since the skull fracture.”

“Do you think he needs more tests?”

Farrell shrugged. “No idea. He’s just…different. Ellis noticed it too. He’s not the same.”

“Could be the stress of the job. He’s not ready to go back.”

“I wish he’d finish his CD and not go back at all,” said Farrell. “He can make enough singing in the clubs in Austin.”

Lukas took a long drag on his cigarette in the dim night. “He mentioned that T ‘n T offered him a full-time spot with the band. Seems everybody knows it but him.”

“How do we get him to see the light?”

“We could always offer him his spot on the squad. Let him take the excitement down a notch. Ease into retirement. Shit, everything he does still goes through the Agency.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Right then, Aunt Gail, Kamps and Roy walked out and hopped into Lukas’s truck.

“Keep an eye on him for me,” said Lukas, getting behind the wheel.

Farrell ground his butt out under his heel. “You know I will.”

When everyone except Farrell was gone and my hosting duties were over, I went into my office and texted Annie.

“Merry Christmas. Missing you a lot today.”

“Same. You are my heart.”

I locked the door of my office and sat in there all alone for an hour looking at my new ring. I was so sad, I was paralyzed. Couldn’t fuckin’ move.

My brain kept spinning back to the old times when Annie and me were together. There I sat, wishing things were different and knowing there was fuck all I could do about it.

My cell rang and I didn’t want to answer but I saw it was Lee, and I smiled.

“Merry Christmas, boss.”

“Same to you, Tommy. I hope you had a wonderful day with your family.”

“It was pretty great. I ate too much and downed a few too many Shiners, but it’s the holidays, right? How did you and Ted make out?”

“Fine. He’s watching football right now, and the good news is, he’s decided to stay longer with me. He’s insisting on staying until I’m back at full power.”

“Ted’s a good guy, boss. You should go stay in his cabin for a week. Do you good to get off the fuckin’ grid. Let the whole world wonder where the hell you went.”

Lee laughed. “He’s asked me to do just that more than once.”

“We’ll talk in the new year, boss. I have a few things in mind I want to do.”

“Sure, Tommy. Come when you’re ready and we’ll have one of our long talks in the Treaty Room.”

After I talked to the boss, I started my list.

Farrell and I watched football while Ellis was upstairs putting the kids to bed. As he handed me another Shiners, he said, “You and Ricki didn’t seem to be getting along too well today.”

Dammit. I didn’t think anybody noticed.

“We broke up last night.”

“No way.” Farrell gave me one of his are-you-insane looks. “On Christmas Eve?”

“Good as any other night when you find out you’re being cheated on.”

Farrell turned and stared at me. “No shit? Who’s the fuckin’ idiot?”

“Eric, the dusty dipshit cowboy. They dated when I was stranded in Buttfuck-istan.”

“How’d you find out?”

“She fuckin told me, like it was nothin’.”

“She didn’t care?”

“She saw nothin’ wrong with it. She said they only saw each other Mondays, but she didn’t see them as a couple, so nothin’ they did counted.”

Farrell frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means all the hand jobs, blow jobs and fuckin’ they did meant nothin’ because, in her mind, they weren’t a couple.”

Farrell was on his feet, outraged on my behalf and fueled by beer. “Of course it meant somethin’. You two were a couple. It’s not like they were gettin’ together to work on their tennis game or somethin’ stupid.”

I was on my feet now. “Exactly my point, but Ricki didn’t see it that way. She still doesn’t see why I broke up with her.”

“That’s plain idiotic on her part. I knew she acted innocent, but I thought she was smarter than that.”

“Me too, cuz. I trusted her, and that doesn’t happen often.”

“But you still let her come over for the day?”

“It was the right thing to do. Amanda didn’t know and ruining that sweet lady’s Christmas would have been an asshole move. I knew I could act civil for one day if Ricki could.”

“You’re a better man than me, Tommy, but I agree with you that ruining her mom’s Christmas would have been a shitty thing to do. Amanda is a nice lady.”

“She is, and I knew she’d bought gifts for the kids. I didn’t want to spoil it for her.”

The game ended, and Farrell headed up to bed. I wasn’t far behind, but I had some dad stuff to take care of. Gathered the kids’ new toys and placed them under the tree, then cleaned up the mess in the family room. The kids would be up bright and early, pulling those toys out all over again.

I grabbed my smokes and went for a walk to the barn to bed Durango down for the night. The sky was cloudless, cold and crisp. Great night.

He whinnied, happy to see me.

After brushing him for half an hour, I put his blanket on and gave him a carrot. Being with my horse took a lot of my stress away. I was lucky to have him, and I thought more about getting other livestock to warm up the barn a little.

“January and February will be chilly in here, Durango. Farrell said not to get pigs because they stink too much. What’s your opinion on calves or sheep?”

He nickered and I think he voted for sheep. Ellis wanted sheep too. She thought they’d be a good choice for the kids.

I’d work on it in the morning.

CHAPTER THREE

Thursday, December 26th.

Boxing Day.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

Ellis and I planned to do nothing much on Boxing Day but play with the kids, eat leftovers, and clean up the house after the big day.

At breakfast while the kids were eating their hot cereal, I told her the details of the Ricki breakup.

“She was seeing her old boyfriend every Monday? What was she thinking, Tommy? After you gave her that gorgeous ring, she didn’t realize what being a couple meant?”

“And I never put it into words, Ellis. I figured the ring was enough. I never said, this ring means you don’t have sex with the guy down the road. I never said that out loud.”

Ellis laughed. “But, she must have known, Tommy. You called it a couples’ ring. You did nothing wrong. She knew but chose to fool around anyway. I’m telling you—the young women of today have a different moral code than even my generation.”

I shrugged. “Can’t explain how her brain works. Made me wonder a few times she said stuff that didn’t make much sense, but I just thought she was just kind of…slow.”

Alfie raised a huge ruckus barking and growling and a moment later the intercom buzzed at the front gate. My dog was the best damned alarm system ever.

I looked at the screen but couldn’t identify the person. He was staring right at the camera, then flashed his creds.

Voice came over the speaker. “Marshal Donovan, Marshal Anderson from the Austin field office at your gate. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes.”

“Sure. Must be an emergency if you’re comin’ to me the day after Christmas.” I opened the gate and then met Anderson on my porch.

Tall guy in a black suit and a dark overcoat. Briefcase under his arm. Poster boy for bureaucracy. He seemed to have trouble getting up the porch steps.

“What’s this all about, Marshal?”

He looked around. “Is there somewhere more private we can speak?”

He was annoying me. “Sure. Come on in.” He followed me in. “You have a nice Christmas?”

He seemed distracted. “Uh, yes, I did, thanks.”

Didn’t bother to ask about mine.

He wiped his shoes on the mat in the foyer and caught his breath.

I led him through the kitchen, where Ellis was cleaning up after breakfast. “We can talk in my office.” I rolled my eyes at Ellis as I strolled by.

“Have a seat, sir.” I sat down in my fancy leather chair and enjoyed the feel and the smell of the soft leather. “What can I do for the DOJ on the day after Christmas? What’s the emergency?”

Marshal Anderson flashed me an uncomfortable smile. “Marshal Donovan, I received a call about a half hour ago from the AG himself, which has never happened. So, this has become ‘top priority’.”

Anderson stared at me for a moment to give me time to absorb the importance of what he was about to say.

I could give a flyin’ fuck.

“The AG is ordering you to fly immediately to D.C. for a meeting with himself and the new head of Marshal Services.”

I lit up a smoke. Anderson wrinkled his nose. My house, my rules. “Who’s the new head of Marshal Services?”

“Matthew Lidstone.”

“Your opinion of him?”

Anderson hesitated, and then his professional wall crumbled a bit. “Never met the man, but the rumor is he’s a little hard to work for.”

“Did they tell you what this meeting is about?”

“Your reevaluation.”

“Shit. Quan doesn’t evaluate me. I work for Lee.”

“Who’s that?” asked Anderson.

“I work for Lee Armstrong directly, or sometimes I get loaned out to another agency. Me having the title of US Marshal just goes with the job.”

“You work for President Armstrong?”

“Yep.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you, Marshal Donovan. I was sent to your residence to send you to Washington immediately.”

“Ain’t happening. I’m on my Christmas holidays. You can tell the AG I ain’t coming.”

“I don’t think he’ll be pleased to hear that.”

I shrugged. “He’ll have to suck it up.”

“Well then, I guess my trip out here to Butler was pointless.”

“Sorry for your trouble. Would you like a cup of coffee for your trip back to the city?”

He did not.

I walked the guy out to his car and watched him drive away, then I went back to my office and called Lee.

“Hey, boss. Something weird happened.”

“How weird, son?”

“A Marshal Anderson came to the farm and told me to get my ass to D.C. because Sam Quan and the new head of Marshal Services wanted to reevaluate me.”

“What’s that mean, Tommy?”

“No clue, boss. I told Anderson I wasn’t going and the AG would have to suck it up.”

Lee chuckled. “Let me call Sam and see what he wants. I’m sure it wasn’t anything important.”

“Thanks, boss. I want to spend the holidays with the kids. They can reevaluate me sometime when I’m in D.C.”

“I agree. It’s not important enough for you to fly here today.”

“Have a happy day, boss. Have a beer for me with Ted.”

Lee chuckled. “I’ll do that.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

“Attorney General Quan, this is Lee Armstrong calling.”

Sam Quan did not sound pleased, as the sound of excited kids in the background drowned out his voice. “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Mister President.”

“Likewise, Sam. Sounds like you have a full house.”

“We do. It’s Christmas, and we like to pack our house with family.”

“Couldn’t agree more. Family makes this season so wonderful.”

An awkward pause. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Lee used his stern voice for this call. “I received a call from someone I consider family this morning. Apparently, you directed one of your agents to visit Marshal Tommy Donovan at his home where he was with his family—much like you are right now—and demand that he fly immediately to D.C. for reevaluation, whatever that means. Sound accurate so far?”

“Marshal Lidstone has replaced Jack Farrington, and I guess he’s in the new-broom phase of his promotion. He has requested that he and I get together and reevaluate Marshal Donovan’s worth to Marshals Services.”

Lee felt his anger rising. “His worth? Tommy Donovan is a true patriot and the best at what he does.”

The AG heard the tone of Lee’s voice but pressed his point. “That’s just it, sir. You say he’s the best, but what does he do? No one seems to know, but he is very well compensated for whatever he’s doing, and it comes from our budget. That’s why we called the meeting: to give him the chance to answer our questions and justify his worth.”

“Attorney General Quan, I can assure you that Marshal Donovan is a vital part of the DOJ and has saved countless lives, all without any fanfare. His efforts have saved my life and the lives of so many others, more than I care to mention.”

“I understand, sir, but why is he on the DOJ’s books when we don’t even control him?”

Pencil-pushing bureaucrat.

Lee never liked Sam Quan, and this argument wasn’t doing the AG any favors.

Lee’s aggressive tone surprised even him. “Marshal Donovan will continue to be on the DOJ’s books but, going forward, will be exclusively attached to the White House. His actions and official position within the DOJ will remain vague in the name of national security until infinity. Understood?”

“But, sir, how⁠—”

“That was rhetorical, AG Quan. There will be no more questions about this matter.”

Quan sounded pissed. “Yes, sir. I’ll pass your message along to Marshal Lidstone.”

“Excellent.”

Lee didn’t like Sam Quan and after their conversation, he thought seriously about replacing him.

Who would I put in Sam’s place?

There were a lot of hot-shot lawyers in D.C. who could do the job, but it would be a lot of work to sort through them and pick the best of the best.

This would be an excellent job for Yvonne. I’ll put her on it the moment we get back to work.

Lee called Tommy back.

“Hey, boss. Do I have to come right away?”

“No. I sorted it out. You can forget about it.”

“Thanks, boss. Means a lot. I’m not ready to work yet. Give me one more week.”

“First of the year will be plenty of time to start something new, Tommy. Enjoy your time off.”

“Thanks, boss. You’re the best.”

When I stepped out of the office and closed the door, Ellis asked me about the marshal who came to see me. “Did he want you to work already?”

“Not exactly. He said I had to go back to D.C. and get reevaluated.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Dunno. I called Lee and asked him, and he called the AG and fixed it. I don’t have to go.”

“This had something to do with the Attorney General?” Ellis seemed surprised.

I shrugged. “Dunno, Ellis. Because I’m a US Marshal but I don’t answer to anybody at the DOJ, I guess the new head guy is wondering where I fit in. That’s about the closest I can come to why the guy was here.”

“He could be confused and that’s why he’s calling it a reevaluation,” said Ellis. “He wants to put you in a slot or a category.”

“I belong to the DOJ right now, but I’ve always been attached to the White House. Says so on my creds. But I work through the Blackmore Agency in Austin and I’m on loan a lot to the NSA, and a few times lately to the Spooks.”

“Who are the spooks?”

“CIA.”

“Oh, my.” Ellis frowned. “That sounds extremely complicated, Tommy.”

“I don’t know how those guys figure stuff out. I’m just glad I don’t have to go to D.C. I ain’t ready to work yet.”

“No, you’re definitely not ready.”

Wasn’t long after the marshal left that Amanda Milligan knocked on the door looking sad. Ellis called me out of my office to talk to her.

“Come in, Amanda. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, it’s very wrong, Tommy. Ricki is sobbing and I can’t seem to comfort her. She told me you broke up with her on Christmas Eve. I’d like to know why you would do that. You don’t seem like a cruel person to me.”

“I had to do it, Amanda. I never planned it. We had big Christmas plans together and they were ruined by Ricki.”

“By my Ricki? I don’t understand.”

Ellis brought us some coffee and leftover treats from Christmas.

“A couple weeks ago, we went ring shopping. Found us a dandy, and that officially made us a couple.”

Amanda smiled as she nodded. “It was a beautiful ring. She loved it but told me this morning she gave it back to you.”

“She did, which I appreciated. Long story short, she admitted that she had been paying special attention to her old flame, Eric.”

“Eric, the cowboy from down the way?”

“One in the same.”

“What kind of attention?”

“Biblical, if you get my meaning.”

Amanda’s eyes shot wide open.

“I found out she cheated on me with Eric. Not just once, but on a bunch of Mondays.”

“Every Monday, when I was in town at the senior’s gathering, making friends. She was the one who suggested I join.”

“Don’t know anything about that, ma’am.”

“Why would she ruin your relationship? You were so happy together.”

“I thought we were happy, but I guess she needed more than me.”

Amanda moved quickly and hugged me. “Thank you for being honest with me, Tommy. You always are straightforward, and I admire that in a person.”

I hugged her back because I did like her a lot.

Amanda fished a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m so sorry it ended this way, Tommy. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Nothing we can say or do, Amanda. It’s done.”

As soon as Amanda left, I grabbed my guitar and drove to Boots for an afternoon practice.

Boots & Saddles Roadhouse. Giddings.

I sat on a stool on stage, cigarette hanging from my lips, guitar settled in my lap. Me, Beau, and the band riffed a little, running through the playlist, and kicking around a few new songs I wanted to try.

“You should write your own music, Tommy.”

I smirked. “Ain’t got that in me, Beau. Lucky I can play a few notes without embarrassing myself.”

“Bullshit. You’re a gifted musician.”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah? I’ll ask Dooley what he thinks.”

“He’d be the guy to get you started.”

“Good suggestion. I’ll ask him.”

“Annie thinks it will be super busy tonight for our Boxing Day Blowout event,” said Beau. “Certain pitchers of suds are on for ten bucks, and she ordered extra kegs of Lone Star and Bud.”

“I bet Shiners ain’t on sale. Is it ever?”

Beau laughed at me. “When have you ever paid for beer at Boots, Tommy?”

“Fair point. Annie and Tyler never made me pay.” My fingers idly picked at the guitar strings. “Speaking of—have you seen your cousin lately?”

Beau’s expression darkened. “The band and I take turns with him during the week. We play recordings of our shows, talk to him, hoping something clicks. So far, nothin’.”

“Damn. Sorry, Beau.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled slow. “The family visited him yesterday. You know how it is—Christmas and all.”

“Family should be together at Christmas.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” He paused. “Paul, Bobby, and Jesse all came. Annie was already there, sitting with Ty when we walked in. Their marriage wasn’t perfect, but there was love, and that kinda thing don’t just disappear.”

“How’d she look?”

Beau hesitated, then said, “Like she’d been crying for hours.”

My chest tightened. “I hate when she’s sad.”

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler.

Everything was set with the band for the night ahead, so I drove home for dinner. Farrell was there to eat Ellis’ turkey pie and to clean up all the leftover dessert.

“Tonight is gonna be big at Boots. Annie’s putting on a Boxing Day Blowout and the cheap beer will pack the bikers and cowboys in.”

“Want to go dancing, Ellis?” asked Farrell.

“Sounds like fun. We’d have to get a sitter.”

“Amanda offered to come when we needed her,” I said. “I’ll call and see if she has any plans.”

“Tell her the kids will already be in bed,” said Ellis. “They go to bed at seven.”

I made the call and Amanda sounded happy to come over. Maybe she wanted to get away from her crying daughter.

Boots & Saddles Roadhouse. Giddings.

Annie was right about the crowd. The roadhouse was already packed when I got there at eight to help Beau set up the amps.

By nine, when we started playing, there was nowhere to sit—standing room only—and the dance floor was packed solid with two-steppers dancing to recorded music.

Annie had extra servers on and one extra bouncer, just in case things got crazy. I noticed a new guy behind the bar helping her and he seemed quick and experienced. She definitely needed him on a night like tonight.

We were into the second set, and I was singing West Texas Waltz, an old song by Butch Hancock that I loved. Joe Ely had a big hit with it, and I was a long-time fan of his and the Texas Tornados.

The dancers were always happy when Beau changed it up and gave them a waltz.

Ricki came in with Eric and she was all dressed up with her hair piled high on her head. She looked great and I had the urge to smash Eric in the face, but why bother? It was over and done for me. I wasn’t gonna bother being upset about her cheating on me.

I’ve got enough to worry about.

CHAPTER FOUR

Friday, December 27th.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

The blazing sun shone through Ben’s stately windows as he sat alone at his kitchen table, drinking coffee and contemplating the Lana Stoner debacle.

He had mulled everything over a thousand times.

Were there signs she was a double agent?

Did I miss them completely because I was sleeping with her?

While she worked under him, he had let her delve into highly classified material, which she undoubtedly passed on to her handlers—probably the Russians. Worse than that, he had broken the cardinal rule for spies—he had let her into his private life.

An unforgivable error for a master of spies.

Ben had made himself an entirely new set of rules to follow going forward. After the dust had settled, he realized how lucky he was to still have his job.

‘Grateful’ seemed inadequate.

First call of the morning he received on his personal cell was from his field office in Syria. The second was from Tehran. When he went back to work on Monday, it would be a tossup which disaster area he’d work on first. Those were only two of many.

The world was ready to implode, and Ben mulled over which war-torn country merited his immediate attention when he went back to Langley as the reinstated head of the CIA.

“Doesn’t matter what I tackle first, I’m going to need Tommy Donovan.”

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

The kids were ‘helping’ me prep the barn for the sheep we bought. They were excited and wanted to be involved. I assigned them easy chores, and they muddled away, getting distracted by the slightest things before I wrangled them back to the task at hand.

It was the best.

We were mucking away in one of the empty horse stalls when a familiar voice said hello.

Ricki.

The kids ran to her, and she scooped Simka up and nuzzled into her neck.

The kids loved her. Too bad she was a cheater.

“Howdy, kids. I missed you guys and thought I’d come over.”

I leaned on my shovel handle and stared.

Tears began trickling down her beautiful face. She spoke softly so the kids wouldn’t hear. “I’m so sorry, Tommy. I wish you’d take me back.”

“I can’t do it, Ricki. You betrayed my trust, and you’ll probably do it again.”

“No, I won’t. I didn’t think it mattered to you if I fooled around with Eric once in a while.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. You were always gone helping your friend Lee. I just thought so.”

“I can’t take another chance on you, Ricki. It will soon be time for me to go back to work and when I’m away, you’ll wander off and screw the next guy down the road. I don’t want to be thinking about that when I’m trying to work. It messes up my head.”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Ricki. You didn’t ding my truck door. You fucked around on me after I gave you a ring. Besides, I’m sure Eric is happy he has you every day of the week now and not just on Mondays.”

Ricki sneered. “He mentioned that. Said you were a fool for letting me go. He’s already talking about getting married.”

I chuckled and slapped the wooden pen wall. “Well, there ya go. Eric’s master plan worked. He gets to marry you and take over your horse operation.”

Ricki frowned. “Funny, that’s what he was sayin’, too, in a roundabout way.”

I snorted loudly. “I’m sure he was.”

“What do you mean by that, Tommy Donovan? Are you talking shit about Eric?”

I spoke quieter to keep her calm in front of the kids. “I’m saying a young cowboy like Eric, who has worked as a ranch hand his entire life, would be happy to marry such a beautiful girl. Icing on the cake is running the biggest Quarter horse operation in the State of fuckin’ Texas.”

Ricki moved closer and spoke softly. “It coulda been all yours, you know. Still can.”

I stepped back, holding up one hand. “I stick by my decision, thanks.”

“Then I might as well marry Eric, seeing as you don’t want me. But, just so you know, the only guy I truly ever wanted to marry was you.”

I was gonna say somethin’ mean but decided to take the high road.

“Appreciate that, Ricki, but the Fates saw us goin’ in different directions. I wish you well, and if you or your mom ever need anything, don’t be afraid to holler.”

Ricki never noticed, but I was spinning my new ring from Annie the entire time.

Different directions.

Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

After the morning chores were done, Jesse lingered in the barn with his brother Paul and the hired hands who’d worked the Quantrall ranch for years.

His holiday time at home with his family was flying by much too quickly and he was finding it hard to go back to work in D.C.

“Soon be time for you to go back to Washington and save the world, boss,” said Jamie, the ranch foreman.

Jesse leaned on Corky’s stall.

“Don’t want to go back, Jamie. I’m putting it off as long as I can. I’ve decided not to go until Sunday night. I’ll land after midnight, but I don’t care how late I get there.”

“Only three more years to go, bro,” said Paul. “That will be the end of Lee Armstrong’s administration. You can do it.”

“I’m not sure about that, Paulie. Three years seems like a helluva long time.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Still in recovery mode after the attempt on his life, Lee took advantage of the Christmas holidays and gave his body and his mind a chance to heal.

He loved having his brother Ted staying with him at the residence and didn’t want him to go back to his mountainside cabin.

They were lounging in the living room, eating snacks June brought up from the kitchen and drinking a few beers while watching one football game after the next.

“Why don’t you stay for a couple more weeks, Ted?”

“I was thinking about it, Lee, and I might. Traversing the mountain is difficult in the winter. A lot of wood chopping to keep the cabin warm and going down to the store for food is next to impossible without a snowmobile.”

“It’s settled then,” said Lee. “You’ll wait until spring to go back.”

Ted laughed. “I must be getting old, Lee. I almost think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Roy excitedly talked for half an hour about his new cat, making Yvonne feel more alone than she did already. When the call ended, she realized she could hardly wait to go back to work.

“Monday can’t come soon enough.”

She also realized she needed some retail therapy.

Yvonne poured herself another coffee and made a list of things she wanted to accomplish.

The first thing I need is a new winter wardrobe. That’ll be a full-day affair. My hair needs an update, too. I’ll start today and won’t stop until Sunday night.

“That’ll make me feel better.”

Should I get a cat like Roy? He says Punkin is no trouble and cats are very independent. I kill plants like there’s no tomorrow, but I’m sure I could look after one kitty-cat without screwing it up.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

Tommy was working in his office when Jesse called.

“Hey, boss. How’s your holiday going?”

“Great to be back on the ranch and I’m not sure I want to leave.”

“Yeah, same. When are you going back?”

“I postponed until Sunday night. Dreading it. I want to be the last dog hung. Want to catch a ride with me?”

“Sure. That’s a great idea. I was going back for Monday anyway to talk to Vipond about something he’s got up his ass.”

Jesse chuckled. “Sounds interesting. I’ll pick you up at eight on Sunday night. We’ll get to D.C. after dark, but it won’t matter.”

“Nope. Don’t matter to me.”

Jesse made me happy. I didn’t have to fly back to D.C. alone. I hated doing that.

Blacky called next wanting a return-to-work date.

“I just talked to Jesse and I’m flying back with him on Sunday night, boss. Somebody want to rent me besides Vipond?”

“Granddad has a couple of projects for the NSA lined up and he wants to talk to you about them.”

“Tell him to make a space for me on Monday afternoon and I’ll come see him.”

“Copy that, Tommy. Good to have you back.”

“Thanks, boss.”

I guess I’m committed to going back to work after all.

Time for the next phone call.

“Kamps.”

“Hey, brother. Just giving you a heads-up. I’m heading back to the cesspool on Monday ‘cause I’m ready to do some work.”

“You sure, kid? I think you need at least another week to make sure your head is on straight.”

“Funny guy. I have the odd dizzy spell, but most days I’m pretty good.”

“Thing is, you don’t want to have a dizzy spell right in the middle of an op,” said Kamps. “That could get you dead, Tommy. Hear what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Thought about it a bit too.”

“Think about it some more, kid.”

“What’s coming up? Granddad wants to see me and so does Vipond. What have you heard?”

“I’ve heard there’s a new list in Dunnett’s possession, since all the trouble in Syria. Forces from the ousted government are causing trouble and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was time for a visit from the U.S.”

“Visit from us? Is that Jesse?”

“Probably the Secretary of State or the VP. We’re short on a VP for the moment, so I’d say Jesse is up to bat.”

“Okay, that’s Syria.”

“Another hot spot is Iran,” said Kamps. “A new Israeli strike killed Iranian soldiers.”

“I saw Lee’s speech urging Iran not to strike back and give in to the war mentality,” said Tommy. “Ellis wanted to watch it, and I watched it with her.”

“Those two places could be yours, plus dozens more. You can probably have your pick.”

I laughed. “That’s like picking through a dumpster. Everything you touch is rotten and leaves a stink on you.”

Kamps laughed. “Colorful analogy, my friend. Always enjoy our talks.”

“Me too, bro. Listen, I got one more thing for you.”

“More than all that?”

“Yeah, and I want to keep this one kinda secret.”

“You have my word. Talk to me.”

I gave him a brief rundown of my plan.

“I wanna use Speedy and his peeps for this, not official channels. My plan is to gather as much damaging info as we possibly can before we spring into action.”

“I’ll call today and put Speedy and the gang on high alert.”

“Perfect. Set up a meeting for Speedy and me on Monday. I’ll want an update. Usual spot. I’m buyin’.”

Kamps chuckled. “Consider it done.”

T ‘n T Roadhouse. Downtown Austin.

The parking lot at T ‘n T was packed again. People came from miles around to drink and listen to The band.

We put on one helluva show.

The place was already hopping when I got there. I made a beeline to the stage and found Charlie.

“Hey, man. Got some bad news. Gotta work again for a bit, so this’ll be my last gig with y’all until I get back.”

Charlie stared at me while he took a long drag of his smoke, exhaled a cloud, and then set his cigarette on top of an amp. “Knew this was comin’. Always does. Can’t say I’m happy you’re goin’ though, Tommy. You’re a fuckin’ good picker and sing like a pro. Always a spot open for ya.”

I kept thinking this might be my last job before I packed it in, but I hadn’t said it out loud.

My time off with my head injury taught me a different life. One that I wanted. Staying home with the kids. Workin’ on the barn. Mowing the lawn.

Farmer stuff.

Glancing around at the huge crowd waiting for the band to play, I wished Annie was here to sing with me, but that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

Mateo didn’t want her singing in public any longer. He’d put the brakes on a lot of things that Annie liked to do. Made me wonder how long she’d let him rule her life like he was doing.

Hope it’s not too long.

While I helped Charlie set up on the stage and we went over the play list, a lot of my fans crowded around asking me to dance with them between sets.

There were a couple of cute ones I liked, but I wasn’t starting anything new. No point when I’d be out of the country for a time.

Near the end of the second set, Lukas showed up like he sometimes did on a Friday night. We sat at the band table and a bunch of girls came over wanting to dance with him, but he turned every one of them down.

“I don’t dance,” he said to every last one. “Why don’t they take the hint? I can’t dance and don’t want to learn with a girl I’ve never seen before.”

“They think you’re hot, bro. Can’t help themselves.”

“Shut up.”

And that signaled the end of teasing Lukas.

When they drifted away, I told him about Ricki. “She came over to the farm wanting me to take her back.”

Lukas raised an eyebrow. “Was she crying?”

“Yeah, a bit of crying.”

“And did you give in?”

“Fuck no. She broke my trust.”

“Damn right, she did. She crying a lot?”

“A fuck ton.”

“She’s a goddamn smokeshow, but it’s a crying shame her morals are as low as her brain wattage.”

“I still can’t believe she didn’t think I’d mind if she messed around with Eric once in a while.”

“Yeah, that’s fucked up, especially after you gave her that expensive couple's ring. How the fuck did that not compute? Did you ask her that?”

“Sure did.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, I’m not a couple with Eric.”

Lukas shook his head and slapped the table hard as he laughed out loud. People were lookin’, but we didn’t care. I laughed right along with him.

“You’re fuckin’ lucky you got out of that one. That woulda ended in disaster.”

“Probably right. Ricki ticked a lot of boxes—sweet as pie, generous, kids love her and her mother. Lots of good things, but her moral compass isn’t pointing true north.”

Lukas held up his beer, and we clinked in a toast. “Well said.”

We sat without speaking for a few minutes before I broke the silence.

“She said she might as well marry Eric.”

Lukas chuckled. “Then good fuckin’ luck to him.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Saturday, December 28th.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler.

Today and tomorrow were my last two days to spend with the kids. I might be gone for a week or longer and I wanted to have fun with them before I left.

They were both playing non-stop with the toys they got for Christmas, and I lay on the rug and played with both of them. Alfie lay down close to me like he knew I’d soon be gone.

He whined outside the bathroom door when I took a bio break, followed me outside when I went for a smoke and basically stuck to me like glue.

Fuck it. He’s comin’ with me.

He stuck with me through the worst shit ever, and if he wanted to come along, who was I to say no?

He had his own combat gear for chrissakes.

“Ellis, I’m going to take Alfie with me.”

“Are you sure you’ll have time to take care of him, Tommy?”

“I found time in Afghanistan and can’t tell ya how much he helped me keep my head on straight. He has his own protective gear now and said he wanted to come along.”

Ellie smirked. “Alfie said, did he?”

I shrugged. “If you know what to listen for, he talks a lot.”

Ellis smiled, her reply maternal. “Of course he does. Well, it’s your decision. I’ll pack a small care package for him, but you’ll have to get his food when you get to Washington.”

“I will.”

Early afternoon and time for the kids to have a nap.

Time for me to prep for my upcoming ops.

I grabbed my Desert Eagle and backup pieces and headed for my new gun room. Blacky contracted the work, and it was somethin’.

The air had a bite to it as I walked to the barn, my breath coming out in puffs. Inside was a little warmer, but not much—one horse could only do so much.

I needed those damn sheep.

The barn was built for horses, with rows of empty stalls lining both sides. Midway through, there were two rooms—one for tack, one for storage.

I was heading for storage.

Outside the wooden door, a small metal box sat, the size of a battered old mailbox. Rusted, beat to hell. It looked like part of the original build.

It wasn’t.

I slipped my key into the side. Turned it.

A soft click. The front panel flipped down, revealing a small electronic control pad. I entered my code.

More clicks.

The barnboard door was a lie. Just a façade fastened to a steel security door with a multipoint locking system. When it swung open, the room lit up, bathed in a cold blue glow.

The storage room had been twelve by fifteen—I measured—but with the reinforced walls, it was closer to ten by thirteen. Twelve-inch concrete walls, floors, ceiling. A bunker.

I asked for something good. I got it.

Gun racks lined the walls, empty for now. A workbench sat in the corner, ready for maintenance and repairs. A comfy chair waited for me in case I wanted to sit and think.

I planned to move most of my gear in here, but that would have to wait.

I set the Desert Eagle down, stripped it and started cleaning. My mind wandered.

Lukas. Should I bring him? No sense putting him in danger if I could handle the job myself. I’d lost enough brothers already.

I missed Linc the most, but I thought about Rob and Perry sometimes too. Both dumb as dirt, but they didn’t deserve to die the way they did.

Lincoln…he was just a tragedy.

Guns cleaned and packed, I called Vipond.

“Hey, Tommy, nice to hear from you.”

“Thanks. I’m catching a ride back to D.C. with Jesse tomorrow night, so we can talk on Monday. Make a time for me and we’ll get together.”

“Great. I’ve got several things I want to discuss with you. It will be good to have you back in D.C.

Good for you maybe.

Wonder what Vipond wants me for. Guess it could be anything. I won’t worry about it until he lays it on me down at Spookville.

I called Lee next. “Hey, boss. I’m flying back on Sunday night with Jesse to Andrews. Coming in probably between ten and eleven to your place. Is that too late?”

“No. Not at all. Ted and I have been watching sports every night and we’ve been catching the eleven o’clock news after that. Be great to see you, son. Your room is always ready for you here.”

“I decided to bring Alfie with me this time, boss. He’s kind of a baby. Are three dogs in your house gonna be trouble?”

Lee laughed. “Let’s wait and see how they get along, then we’ll know for sure.”

“Okay. Roxy is a Rottie so she’s a little on the aggressive side. Alfie is protective and he’s no wussy. I think Stretch is the quietest of the three.”

“This is going to be fun. Can hardly wait until you get here, son. Ted will be glad to see you too.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Farrell was off on Saturday and came over to hang out and have lunch with us. With the kids in their highchairs and the three of us sitting around the table, it was just like it used to be at his house.

Farrell noticed it too. “This feels right. The three of us and the kids eating lunch.”

Ellis smiled. “It does have a familiar feel to it.”

“Any idea how long you’ll be away this time?” asked Farrell.

“Not until I talk to three different people on Monday. Once I know where I’m going and what the mission is, I’ll have a better idea of how long it will take. Jesse is giving me a ride on Air Force Three.”

“Lucky you,” said Farrell. “A free ride.”

“Yep. I don’t think he wants to go back to D.C. either. He sounded kind of hesitant.”

“I’m glad you haven’t had time to get those sheep yet. I won’t have to shovel sheep poop while you’re gone.”

Linc laughed. “Sheep poop, Daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s a funny one, ain’t it?”

“Sheep poop,” repeated Simka, making Ellis giggle.

I did my best not to laugh but I couldn’t help myself. My kids were so cute, I was missing them already.

I was up in my room packing all my clean clothes into my suitcase when Jesse called. “Hey, boss. Something up?”

“Yeah, something I’m not too happy about. Can you spare me an hour this afternoon?”

“Yeah, sure. Want me to come over there?”

“I received the intel package on my trip to Syria and we should go over it together. I’d like your input.”

“Look tricky?”

“It’s a hotspot, and we need to be careful.”

“They assigning you enough protection?”

“Adequate, I suppose, but I’d prefer if you came with me and Charlie.”

“I’ll be over in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Tommy.”

Huh. No big surprise. We knew Syria was at the top of the list.

Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

By the time I got over to Jesse’s place, the coffee brew was just finishing, and I could smell the pastries. “We’ll use the study. It’s quiet in there.”

He handed me a mug of coffee and a hot turnover, then I followed him to the study. “When did you get the package?”

“This morning. I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about Syria until I got back to D.C., but no such luck.”

“Crazy people don’t take a holiday, and we can’t wait to deal with them. Lee wants you to get a jump on it.”

“That must be it.” Jesse grinned. “Hard to get used to the fact that my time is no longer my own. I’m a servant of the people.”

“The people want us to get our asses to Syria, boss?”

“Guess they do.”

“I wonder if Syria is one of Granddad’s priorities. One of the ones he wants to talk to me about on Monday. If not, he’ll have to get in line and wait.”

Jesse held up the dossier. “If this is coming directly from Lee, then it’s the top of the list.”

“He didn’t mention it to me this morning.”

“Perhaps he didn’t realize I was taking you with me.”

“He ain’t coming with us?”

“He’s not physically able to travel yet. Still on the disabled list. He’s on desk duty for now.”

“Broken arm, broken legs. Three fuckin’ casts. Best if the world didn’t see him looking weak and easy to take out.”

“Exactly,” said Jesse. “Projecting a positive image is tantamount to scaring the predators away.”

Tommy smiled. “If you say so, boss.”

Jesse laughed. “As if I know anything about Washington politics. I fight every day to do the best job possible while keeping myself out of that rancid quagmire.”

“Cheaters and liars and ladder climbers, boss. Those are the best ones.”

“Jesus, Tommy.”

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler.

Farrell stayed for dinner and helped Ellis clean up the kitchen while I played with the kids for the last time for a while.

We made a game of putting the new toys away. I didn’t care how long it took. Hell, if it never ended, I’d be tickled. Eventually, though, I had to carry them upstairs and put them to bed myself.

Once they were tucked in, I read them three stories. They usually only got two, but I stretched it out and read them three.

More for me than for them.

They were both tired and made no fuss about going to bed. I turned out the light and sat in the nursery until they fell asleep.

I watched them sleep for a while wishing they would never grow up.

Boots & Saddles Roadhouse. Giddings.

I pulled into the parking lot early, so there were a ton of parking spaces. Figured I’d drink a pitcher at the bar before helping Beau set up.

Last night of ‘normal’ for a while.

My ass was barely on my stool when Annie set my pitcher in front of me, smiling sweetly.

Fuck, she does somethin’ to me, just with a look.

“Hey, Tommy. How was Christmas with the kids?”

“Fantastic. They’re so damn cute. I wish you coulda seen them.”

“Me too, sugar. But, you know… the people in our lives wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“Only your life, babe. Not mine. Kicked Ricki to the curb. Cheatin’ with her old boyfriend.”

“Damn, Tommy. Sorry to hear that. You deserve better.”

I held her gaze. “I deserve the best, and she’s standing right in front of me.”

Annie smiled, slow and warm. My chest ached. “What’s the plan for the rest of the holidays?” she asked.

“Heading back to work tomorrow night. Hitchin’ a ride with Jesse to D.C.”

Her smile faded. “I wish you wouldn’t go, Tommy.”

“Me too, but bills don’t pay themselves.”

“You have plenty of money. Enough to take care of your family for life. You could stay here, play a few nights a week, and make pocket cash. You don’t need to take any more risks.”

I opened my mouth to answer—then caught movement. Someone stomping across the dance floor, straight for me.

Mateo.

Pissed.

He strode toward the bar, dark eyes locked on me like he was ready to start somethin’. Probably just came from the men’s room, but hell, he never stopped giving me the stink-eye.

“I’ll go help Beau set up. I’ll text you if your phone isn’t being monitored.” I winked at her.

I turned and walked away but I could feel those dark eyes boring into my back.

“Why was Tommy talking to you, mi corazon?”

Annie’s voice was smooth. “He was telling me about Christmas with his kids. Said he’s leaving tomorrow. Won’t be here to sing for a while.”

“I’ll believe you if you tell me that it’s over for you and Tommy. I want to trust you.”

“I will never cheat on you, Mateo.”

But Tommy and I will never be over.

“I’m glad Tommy will be away for a while. It’s better for you and me.”

Annie grinned weakly at Mateo, not feeling the warmth she was trying to convey.

That makes one of us.

CHAPTER SIX

Sunday, December 29th.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler.

After breakfast, I brought my stuff down and set it on the floor at the front door. “Guess I’m ready, Ellis. Do you think it’s too cold to take the kids outside to play? There’s a tiny skiff of snow out there this morning and I don’t think they’ve seen snow before.”

“I’ll bundle them up for you, Tommy. Never hurts for them to get fresh air in their little lungs. Helps them sleep better at night too.”

Ellis dressed the kids up and wrapped scarves around their necks. I put their mitts and boots on at the door. “We’re going for a walk in the snow, and we’ll take Durango out of the barn for a walk down the back lane. He’s probably tired of standing in his stall.”

“Can Alfie come?” asked Linc.

“Sure. Alfie is coming with us. He doesn’t need his leash if we’re only going down the lane.”

“Boots on, Daddy.” Simka stamped her feet on the mat.

“Okay, we’ve all got boots on. Let’s go.”

We walked to the barn with Alfie running in excited circles through the snow. I took Durango out of his stall and led him outside. “Here we go on a big walk down the lane. Everybody ready?”

“Ready, Daddy.” Simka jumped and pumped her little arms into the air.

We were halfway to the back of the property, with the kids chatting away to each other about everything they saw. Suddenly, a coyote loped out of the tall grass and crossed the lane about twenty feet in front of us with a quail in its mouth.

Durango whinnied and pulled back. Simka squealed, and Linc hollered, “Doggie, Daddy.”

Alfie took off like a shot after the coyote, and it took me a few tries to whistle him back. When he did return, I wasn’t convinced he was gonna stay.

“Good boy.” I gave him a biscuit out of my pocket.

Still excited after the coyote, the kids looked everywhere, searching for more wildlife. We found a few birds and some rabbit tracks, but it wasn’t until we were fifty feet from the back fence that we saw the main attraction—three wild turkeys.

“Birdies,” said Simka.

“Yep. Those are birdies—big ones. Those are called turkeys.”

“Turkeys,” said Linc.

We watched them peck in the snow until the kids lost interest—about thirty seconds.

“Home, Daddy?” Simka asked.

“Yep, time to head back to the barn.”

Durango clip-clopped in a circle as we all turned for home.

After our long nature walk, I felt sick.

“Daddy is tired from the long nature walk, kids. I’m going upstairs to take a nap.”

I left the kids in the family room playing and went upstairs to lie down until the dizzy spell passed.

Ellis watched me leave but said nothing.

I wasn’t telling anybody about the spells. They worried too much about me.

I rested for a while. Got up to heave one time, then the pukiness seemed to ease off.

I hope I’m okay before the flight. At my last checkup with the head doctor, I was still on the no-fly list. Only Lukas knows about that.

When I woke up, the dizzies were gone.

Farrell was sitting in the family room, watching the kids with Ellis, when I walked back downstairs. He and Ellis agreed that it was best if he stayed over when I was out of town. I never argued because he was keeping my family safe. One less thing to worry about.

Dinner was loud and fun, like family dinners should be. Afterwards, we all cleared the table and sat around drinking coffee before Jesse picked me up.

Jesse texted me a heads up when he was five minutes out. I gave everybody a hug and then walked toward the gate.

Goodbyes were easier for me that way.

Executive Airport. Austin.

A royal blue F-250 Super Duty rumbled down the road and stopped in front of my gate. The Appaloosa logo of the Quantrall ranch was visible even in the dark. I stepped through the gate with Alfie at my side.

Jesse’s brother, Paul, was driving us to the airport so we wouldn’t have to worry about parking. He gave me a funny look as we walked toward the truck.

Jesse rolled down the passenger window. “Evening, Tommy. Bringing your dog along?”

It was a workin’ truck, so Paul wouldn’t mind.

“Yeah, when I’m outside the wire I’m used to Alfie being with me. He has combat gear now, supplied by the Marine Corps, and he keeps me from losing my mind when I’m alone for long periods of time.”

“Uh huh. I can see where that would be helpful,” said Jesse.

“How long will you be gone this time, Tommy?” asked Paul.

“Not sure. When are we leaving for Syria, Jesse?”

“Possibly by tomorrow night or the following day. I don’t know what arrangements Olivia has made. Won’t know until tomorrow when I get to the office.”

Paul dropped us off and hugged his brother goodbye. We were a bit early. Maybe twenty minutes before takeoff so there was no rush.

Our gear was loaded for us by the crew as we walked up the steps into the cabin.

Jesse settled into his seat and already had his laptop out, back in work mode. I flopped into a nearby chair, and Alfie lay right next to me on the floor. I was half asleep by the time we were taxiing. Alfie never moved.

Joint Base Andrews. Maryland.

I dozed off a couple of times telling myself this would be my last flight to D.C. Then I wondered how many times I’d said that to myself already.

This time I had two different goals. First was the op that would feed my kids and pay Ellis for another year, and the second was ferreting out the liars and the leeches who slithered around Capitol Hill for personal gain.

I wanted to clean things up a little—no, a lot—for Lee. I figured he had no idea what kind of white-collar crime was swirling around and polluting his administration.

Air Force Three landed without a hitch and I was happy to see Lee and Ted waiting for us in the limo. Every time Lee rode around in that thing with the Stars and Stripes flapping in the breeze, it caused a huge stir and unleashed a following of media hounds howling behind us.

I wanted to jump out and toss a grenade under the first van with call letters painted on the side. Slow the fuckers down. First move I’d make if I was outside the wire. Lee would frown on it.

“Welcome back, Tommy,” said Lee as he gave me a hug. Ted relied on a firm handshake and smile. Miguel gave me a head nod as he tossed my gear in the trunk. Glad he was back. Gunshot wounds were a bitch to get over.

Alfie jumped through the open door and made himself comfortable on the floor. I slid in so Alfie was at my feet—so glad Stretch didn’t come for the ride. We could save that confrontation for the Residence.

“Great to see you again, Jesse,” said Lee.

“Thanks,” said Jesse.

“How were the holidays with your family?”

“Wonderful. I missed my horses and spent a lot of time in the barn catching up with my brother Paul. To be honest, it was hard for me to leave the ranch and come back.”

“You could move your family here, Jesse,” said Lee. “There’s always that option.”

“I don’t want to uproot them. Separate them from their schools and their friends. It doesn’t seem fair, just because I’m lonely.” He laughed.

“There are downsides to this life, Jesse. No doubt about it,” said Lee.

We dropped Jesse off at Annie’s townhouse in Georgetown and I promised to call him in the morning to see where we were on the Syria trip.

Another visit to the sandbox.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Daniel was full of smiles as he welcomed Alfie and me to the Residence. I chuckled to myself as Daniel tried to maintain his dignified air as Alfie trotted by. Three dogs was a lot.

Alfie was barely past Daniel’s legs when his hackles flared. He stalked around the door into the living room. The growling began. Three big black and tan dogs, all different breeds. This might not go as well as I thought.

Ted ran to get hold of Stretch’s collar, but his dog wasn’t involved. The snarling came from Roxy and Alfie.

I walked beside Alfie, who was in more of a defensive stance than attack mode. With my hand on his head, I said, “Sit, Alfie. You’re a good boy.”

Obediently, Alfie sat and leaned on my leg. I rested my hand on his head, and he quieted down.

Lee smiled at all the dogs and got us beer from the bar fridge. “I love it when Roxy and I aren’t here all alone. It’s so great having you guys stay with me.” He laughed. “Dogs included.”

“Thanks, boss. Santa bring you anything?”

“Nope, and there’s nothing I need. Ted and I had a quiet dinner. Turkey and all the trimmings. Eating way too much and then topping it off with two pieces of pie was about all the excitement we had.”

I rooted through my gear bag and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped gift—Ellis’s handiwork. “I got somethin’ for you that you might find exciting.”

“You bought me a gift?”

I shook my head. “Didn’t buy it, boss. More like I made it myself, but it ain’t a macaroni necklace. Let’s say I’ve been making it since I got shot in the head and had a lot of spare time. I finally finished it. Merry Christmas.”

Lee opened the package and held the gift in his hands. “Amazing, son. I can’t believe you finally finished this.” He grinned. “This is fantastic. Let’s play it right now.”

“You can play it later, boss. You don’t want to play it right now.”

“Yes, I do.” Lee strode over to the cabinet on the far wall of the living room, pressed a button and a music system appeared. “How do you do this?”

I helped him get the CD started and turned the volume down low so we could talk.

“Listen to Tommy sing, Ted. That’s him playing the guitar on there too.”

“Didn’t know you were a singer, Tommy.”

“Just for fun.”

“Not just for fun,” said Lee. “He’s world class like John Fogarty.”

Lee made me laugh.

Farrington Residence. Georgetown. D.C.

The limo dropped Jesse off at Annie’s townhouse. With a heavy sigh, the Secretary of State walked up the stone steps, resigned to the emptiness that waited inside.

I’d be better if I had someone here in D.C. I could talk to or watch a game with.

He thought of Olivia, his personal assistant at work and wondered about taking her out to dinner.

Maybe I’ll ask her when I get back from Syria.

He flicked on the lights and turned off the alarm. Jesse walked through to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Lynette would arrive at eight o’clock in the morning and he’d feel better about everything when he got back into his work routine.

I hope I don’t let anyone down.

As soon as the coffee was ready, he poured himself a cup and sat down to go over the Syrian itinerary.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Monday, December 30th.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Alfie wasn’t a small dog, and he had a lot of energy, so he was a handful to most people. Not me, of course. I didn’t trust anyone in the White House to walk him, so I was up with the roosters, throwing on my runnin’ gear and takin’ him for a jog.

Our run through Rock Creek Park was brisk, but we had a good pace and kept ourselves warm. Five miles went by pretty fast, and we only stopped once for Alfie to pee on a tree. Once for me to puke and twice for me to grab onto something to stop the headpins.

All in all, I felt pretty damned good.

When we got back to the Residence I had time for a quick shower. Got dressed and ready for a day of meetings and D.C. driving.

Lee and Ted were already in the dining room when I walked in, drinking their coffee and chuckling about somethin’. I could tell how much more relaxed Lee was with his brother around.

Too bad Ted hated civilization.

“Morning, boss. Hey, Ted.”

“You were out early, Tommy.”

“Alfie and I did Rock Creek Park.”

“Does he run well on a leash?”

“Not too bad. Better without one. I didn’t leash him until I saw my first human at the park.”

“You were there that early? Before anyone else showed up?”

“One other jogger. Kept lookin’ over at me. Alfie wanted to say hi to him, but I snapped on his leash before he could cause trouble.”

“Anything to worry about?”

I shoved a hot turnover in my mouth. “Probably not. Just me being paranoid.”

Lee nodded. “What’s on your agenda for today?”

“Takin’ a page out of your book today, boss. Meetings, meetings and then more meetings.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “Sounds delightful. It’s my job, and I hate meetings, so I can only imagine what you think of them, son.”

“Necessary evil.”

“May I ask who you’re seeing today?”

“You can always ask, boss. I got Benny Boy at Langley, Granddad at NSA, and another guy you don’t know, then Jesse to talk about Syria.”

“Any idea when you and Jesse might be leaving?” asked Lee. “It’s a growing hotspot and could benefit from Jesse’s guidance.”

“No clue. Maybe in the next day or two. I was hoping I could play at the club on New Year’s Eve tomorrow night, but Jesse will know more today when he hears back from the Embassy in Syria.”

“That would be fun for you, Tommy. New Year’s Eve at the Cottonwood Club. I wouldn’t mind going there myself. I bet you could sell a lot of your CDs there too.”

“Maybe. I think Dooley shipped a case of them to Mister Allman when they were finished. I told him that they sold my T-shirts at the Cottonwood Club.”

“Are they still selling well?”

“Yeah, they are. It’s surprising how many I sell at T ‘n T in Austin and at Boots & Saddles in Giddings. Two roadhouses, but I’ve had to reorder the shirts three times already.”

Lee chuckled. “You’ll soon need a manager, Tommy, and a bus for the road.”

“I’ll never need that stuff, boss. That’s only for the superstars.”

“You have everything it takes to be a superstar, Tommy. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”

“Thanks, boss.”

NSA Headquarters. Fort Meade. Maryland.

Lee made a call, and the White House motor pool loaned me one of their SUVs. I had a lot of ground to cover today.

When I got out to Fort Meade, Granddad had fresh coffee and a tray full of warm pastries waiting for me. He got my favorite—Raspberry. “Come in, Tommy. I’m so happy to see you up and around again.”

“Yeah, had a bit of trouble with my skull fracture, Granddad. That kind of a crack makes you dizzy and makes you puke. Don’t ever get whacked on the head.”

Granddad chuckled. “I’ll do my best to avoid that. But do you feel you’re okay to get back to work? I don’t want to rush you back, but we have a lot to talk about.”

I wiped my face with a napkin, took a swig of coffee, and we got down to business.

Granddad went over the updated ‘most wanted’ list. “The list has been repopulated based on the ever-evolving dynamics of the global political scene and new intel we gleaned. Most are terrorists or moneymen supporting those terrorist organizations.”

“Who’s at the top?”

“The new number one is Rami Fadel,” said Granddad. “A billionaire whose hobby is supplying guns and support to ISIS.”

“I refilled my coffee and grabbed another turnover. “Any idea where number one is right now?”

“We’re searching for him.”

“Who’s second?”

“Yassir Hamad. He’s a known supporter of the Taliban and several other terrorist groups. He’s listed as at large.”

I made notes and wrote down questions to ask Kamps later. “Number three?”

“Malik Farhan. Arms dealer. At large also.”

“So them being at large means we don’t know where the hell they are?”

“That’s about it.”

“I’m anxious for you to go after Rami Fadel,” said Dunnett. “If he was out of the picture, it would make a huge difference to the power that ISIS wields, not only in the Middle East, but in their move to expand into every country in the world.”

“First I have to go to Syria with Jesse. Do you think Fadel is hanging around in Syria, Granddad?”

“Last confirmed sighting of Fadel was in Bagdad, in Iraq.”

“When was that?”

“Umm…three days ago.”

“If you keep an eye on him and he moves closer to where I am in Syria, I might be able to do a two-fer, Granddad. Depends on how close I have to stick to Jesse. He’s my primary and I can’t let him get knocked off while I’m trying for Fadel.”

Dunnett smiled. “Of course not. The Secretary of State is your first priority.”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy and he’s from Texas.”

“I heard that,” said Granddad. “You have a fellow Texan at the Cap.”

“It’s funny. He don’t like it any better than I do. Maybe it’s a Texas thing.”

“I’ll have my people create dossiers on the top three for you. Are you staying with the president?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll have the material sent over when completed. The problem with our top three is that they know they are wanted, so they’re continually on the move. They have a bounty on their heads, and they don’t want anyone collecting.”

I chuckled. “Let’s see if we can fix that.”

CIA Headquarters. Langley Virginia.

My next stop was Spookville. Vipond had texted, saying he had made room for me at one o’clock. I arrived fifteen minutes early. Security made me wait until Ben’s personal assistant was available to escort me. She took me from the front door right into Ben’s office.

Ben Vipond’s warm smile was a stark contrast to his smirk the last time I was in his office. “Tommy, come in. Grab some coffee and a pastry. How were the Christmas holidays?”

These people are trying to make me fat.

“Nothin’ better than Christmas with the family. New house is fantastic, and the kids got spoiled, of course.”

Never one to shy away from showing pics of my kids, I scrolled through pictures of Linc and Simka from over Christmas. There were several videos of them ripping open their presents, too.

Vipond glanced up at me as he continued to scroll. “They’re still only babies, Tommy. I don’t know why I expected them to be bigger and blond like you.”

“Lincoln’s mother was Comanche and he’s definitely mine.”

“And the little girl?” There were a lot of questions in Ben’s blue eyes about Simka.

“Simka is mine too, and I have the redacted paperwork to prove it.”

“Jesus, Tommy. Where did you get her?” He held up his hand. “Okay, no more questions. I can’t believe how small they are. It must be hard raising them on your own.”

“Nope. Not bad. I have a nanny for them and she’s fantastic. She lives at my house, and she loves the kids. The worst part is leaving them at home every time I have to work.”

Ben stood and walked to the sideboard. “I can only imagine. Want a coffee before we get into it?”

“No thanks, I just had one with Granddad. What did you want to see me about?”

“A terrorist named Omar Bashir is siding with one of the rebel groups in Syria. He’s on the list, and we’d like you to take a crack at him.”

“I might be able to help you out with that.”

“Wow. That was easy. I'm not complaining, and I’ll get a package ready for you, but why is there no pushback this time?”

I chuckled. “Because I’m gonna be in the neighborhood. I’m flying to Syria with Jesse. He asked me to be part of his protection detail, and my first duty will be to him.”

“Jesse Quantrall, the Secretary of State?”

“One and the same.”

“I’ll take it. Your first priority has to be the safety of the Secretary but knowing you’re in-country makes me feel like we’re on top of this one.”

More kind words from Ben. Surprising.

“Thanks. You know I’ll get ‘er done if I can. Not sure yet when we’re leaving but I hope it’s Wednesday. I want to play at the New Year’s Eve party at the Cottonwood.”

Vipond’s interest was piqued. “Let me know. I have no plans and would definitely be up for that. You put on a great show, Tommy.”

“Thanks, man. It’ll be good to blow off some steam before fuckin’ Syria. Hope nobody tries to blow us up.”

Vipond was grinning ear to ear. “Fuck that, kid. We’ll party hard before you go. You can recover on the plane ride over.”

“Copy that, boss.”

Harry S. Truman Building. D.C.

Jesse was next.

His building was down the street from the White House, and as I was shown into his office, he was already calling Charlie, his second in command. Jesse wanted him involved in our talk about the mission.

“Charlie Radeska, Deputy Secretary of State, allow me to introduce one of my fellow Texans. This is Marshal Tommy Donovan. Tommy.”

We shook hands. Firm grip and looked me in the eyes. Brownie points for Charlie.

“Hey, Charlie. Jesse told me you’re coming with.”

Charlie laughed. “I am, although I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to it. My bag is packed, and I’m ready to go.”

“Sounds like we might have a departure date?”

“Wednesday morning at ten.”

“I can be up and movin’ by ten. Might not be too chatty, but I’ll be ready.”

Jesse grinned. “Do you have big plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I’m gonna play at the Cottonwood Club, but I’m not off-stage until about three. By the time I get back to Lee’s place and get into bed, I wouldn’t be much good for an early morning flight.”

“Ten won’t be too deadly for you and then you can sleep on the long flight.”

“Good point.”

Members of Jesse’s Diplomatic Security Service, or DSS, joined us for the security briefing.

Back in the fuckin’ sandbox again.

D.C. Gridlock.

Driving back to the Residence was a pain. It wasn’t far—I could see the fuckin’ building—but D.C. traffic was fucked. No two ways about it. I’d be happy when I got back to the White House.

I kept a sharp eye on the rearview but didn’t pick up a tail. Guess nobody wanted to kill me today. Maybe they’re waiting until the New Year.

Kind of them.

My borrowed SUV crawled through traffic, and I went brain-dead. Zoned out. The sound of my phone ringing made me jump.

Kamps.

“Hey, man. What’s up? Wasn’t I supposed to meet Speedy today?”

I heard Kamps exhale loudly. “That’s why I’m calling. Speedy asked for two things—a few more days and some cash. He said the amount of information you requested is massive and will take time. Also, it’ll require some bribing.”

“Give the man what he needs and tell him I’ll wait a little longer. It’ll be worth it.”

I’m gonna burn this town to the fuckin’ ground.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

I finally got back to the White House and parked the SUV.

Me, Lee and Ted sat in the living room with the dogs at our feet, havin’ a couple of beers before dinner.

Nice to unwind with friends.

“Met with Jesse and Charlie today. We talked about the trip to Syria. Jesse said we’re heading out on Wednesday morning.”

“I haven’t received a copy of the itinerary yet,” said Lee. “It might be sitting in my email.”

I pulled a folded wad of paper out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Jesse printed me a copy.”

Lee chuckled as he tried to flatten the paper and read it. Jesse had included everything, from where and when we’d eat to scheduled bathroom breaks. “Looks quite comprehensive. I don’t think he left anything to chance.”

I chuckled. “Same thing I thought.”

Lee laughed out loud.

“Looks like you’ll be in D.C. for New Year’s, Tommy,” Ted said. “Do you have any plans?”

“I’m gonna try to play the New Year’s Eve party at the Cottonwood Club. They usually let me join in when I’m in town.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “New Year’s Eve. I think there are fireworks scheduled for the lawn out front.”

“You have to say anything to the people, boss?”

Lee sighed. “Tomorrow afternoon I’ll have to say Happy New Year to the world. I think Carter has it all set up. Either he or Yvonne would’ve taken care of it.”

“Who wants to come to the club tomorrow night?” I asked, figuring neither one of them did.

“I’d like to tag along,” said Ted. “I play the guitar when I’m alone in my cabin, but after listening to your CD, Tommy, I’d love to see you perform live.”

“Good one, Ted. I think I’ll call Yvonne and see if she wants to come.”

“She might have plans,” said Lee. “I’d like to go too, but I’m still on the DL. If I went and I happened to get hurt it would be game over for me.”

“You have to stay home and watch the fun on the tube, boss. No live fun for you.”

“I don’t want to stay here by myself.” Lee sounded pouty.

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have Alfie, Roxy and Stretch with you.”

“That’s comforting. A three-dog night.”

Ted laughed. “That has a ring to it.”

While it was on my mind, I called Yvonne. “Hey, babe, it’s me.”

“Tommy, I heard you were coming to D.C.”

“Want to be my date for New Year’s Eve? I’m playing at the club. Ted’s coming and I want you to come too.”

“Fantastic. Count me in. I have no plans, and I want to do that so badly, Tommy. We always have fun there.”

“Pick you up at seven. Traffic might be a bitch tomorrow evening with every fucker in the city going out to party.”

“I’ll be ready at seven. I think I’ll dress up.”

“Give me your best sparkly look, girl.”

“I will. Thanks, Tommy. You’re the best.”

“I got us a date, Ted. Yvonne is coming.”

“Damn it,” said Lee. “I really want to go now.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tuesday, December 31st.

New Year’s Eve.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee strolled into the dining room, and happiness washed over him. Seeing Ted and Tommy sitting at his table brought him so much joy. Since becoming president, the one thing he never got used to was eating alone.

When he was Attorney General, he lived by himself in his condo and ate alone all the time. He lived the bachelor life, and it never bothered him.

Once he moved to the White House, he sat alone at the far end of an elaborate, glossy wood table as his staff served him, smiling politely. There was no one to talk to, to share a story with or ask about their day.

Lonely sucks.

Lee walked to his place at the head of the table, patting his brother on the shoulder as he passed by. “I’m so glad you guys are here. You have no idea how happy it makes me to have you both under my roof. It makes my day a little brighter.”

Me and Ted both smiled and nodded, mumbling words about being happy to be there. We understood that level of loneliness.

“Did you run this morning, Tommy?”

“I was a slug and wasn’t up in time, but I’m eating light, and I’ll go for a short run when we’re finished breakfast.”

“When my body heals,” said Lee, “I plan to get back to my morning run. I’m putting on too many extra pounds.”

“You can’t do that until the doctor checks you out. No way you can run on a broken leg before it’s completely healed.”

“I won’t, son.” Lee smiled at Tommy. “I’ll make sure my leg is healed. One was broken and the other only sustained a hairline fracture. The pain is completely gone now. I’m sure it won’t be long.”

Rock Lake Park. D.C.

I started my run wishing I’d done it earlier. I never ran after eating and even though I kept breakfast to coffee and a raspberry turnover, it was still too much for my gut.

I ran around a bend in the trail and thought I was gonna puke. It was comin’ up fast. I was in such a rush to get away from people that I staggered off the path toward a tree and stumbled.

Heard the report of the shot a split second before the bullet whizzed past my cracked skull.

Zing.

The bullet whizzed by my head and thunked into the tree behind where I’d been a second before.

Saved by barfing. Who woulda guessed.

I crawled behind a stand of trees, made sure I had full cover and grabbed my phone.

“Morning, Tommy. Everything okay? You sound out of breath.”

Gasping to get the words out, I fumbled and spit it out to Dan, “Remember that spot in Rock Creek Park where Lee almost caught one not long ago?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Great. Well, I’m there now, and I’m pinned down by a sniper. Probably gone by now, but I need some armed support and a forensics team to dig a bullet out of a tree. Oh, and a ride home.”

Dan clicked into emergency mode. “Were you hit? Do you need medical? Where did the shot come from?”

“Not hit, don’t need medical, shot came from the west. I have full cover, but I don’t want to move until I have someone to cover me.”

“Stay put. We’re on our way.”

“Thanks, Dan.”

I sat on the grass under a tree and the ground was hard as a rock and cold as fuckin’ ice on my butt.

While I waited for Dan, I called Kamps to fill him in on what was going on at the cap.

“Tommy, what’s up?”

“I’m in Rock Creek Park, jogging. Somebody just took a shot at me. Can you put Speedy on it, pronto? This takes priority over the other thing. If he gets me a name, I’ll drop everything to meet him.”

“Jesus, Tommy. Trouble just follows you around. I’ll call him right now. Talk soon.”

“Thanks, bro.”

I heard the sirens as I hung up. Dan showed up with two vans of FBI dudes, one filled with shooters, the other filled with techs. Once the FBI had secured the area, I moved to safety, pointing out where the bullet was lodged in the tree trunk. They dug out the slug and took it with them to the lab.

I gave my statement, and then we let the FBI crew do their thing.

Dan drove me back to the White House. Shortest run ever. Did me no good. Pissed me off royally.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

I walked into the Residence and past the living room, where Ted was watching the news. I glanced at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t gone long, Tommy.”

“Had an incident in the park.”

“What kind?”

“The kind we’re not telling Lee about, Ted. He gets too worked up, and he’ll want to help. I don’t want anybody messing in it. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Somebody tried to hurt you?” Ted took a guess.

“Bingo.”

“Did they take a swing at you?”

I fixed my gaze on Ted. “Worse.”

Ted exhaled deeply, nodding.

I gathered up the newspapers and took them into the dining room. Ted followed, watching me spread them out on the antique dining room table.

“What are you doing?”

“Gotta clean my guns.”

“That kind of problem?”

“Yep.”

Ted placed a hand on my shoulder. “Go get your guns. I’ll help you.”

“Thanks.”

Ted layered the newspaper on the priceless antique table, protecting it while we prepped my guns.

Time to go hunting.

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

“You seem in a happy mood this morning, Yvonne,” said Lee.

“I am excited, Lee, for the first time in a long while. It’s New Year’s Eve, and I have plans. I’m going to the club with Tommy and Ted to celebrate.”

“You’ll have a wonderful time. Wish I could go too.”

“It’s not just the fact that I’m going out, but I made up my mind to leave all the negative things that happened to me last year just where they are—in the past. I’m moving forward thinking only positive thoughts.”

“Wow,” said Lee. “Admirable. I should do exactly the same thing, Yvonne.”

“I wish you’d come to the club with us tonight. How often do you go out and have fun?”

“Almost never since the bomb hit me in the Colonnade. The doctor says I still have a spiderweb of injuries all over my body that need to heal, and being in crowds would be tempting Fate.”

“You still have to use the crutch. I get it.”

“Best if the public doesn’t get a mental picture of their leader limping around on a crutch like Tiny Tim, and not ready to take on all comers.”

Yvonne sighed. “I see what you’re saying. Optics are important. They won’t see your crutch when you wish the nation a Happy New Year,” she said. “Only your happy smiling face.”

“After I talk about the Secretary of State going to Syria, I won’t be smiling,” said Lee. “It’s a dangerous undertaking and he shouldn’t be going at all.”

“But if he can make a connection with Al-Mahmoud, the leader of the group that has assumed power, there might be hope of salvaging relations with Syria.”

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it hope, Yvonne. More like wishing on a penny and tossing it in a fountain.”

Yvonne sighed knowing the president spoke the truth.

Depressing.

Press Room. West Wing. D.C.

Lee left the crutch in the Oval Office and walked under his own power to the press room with Yvonne. The press corps jumped to their feet and welcomed him with a round of applause.

“Thanks to all for that vote of encouragement. I’m working though the injuries and I’m almost there. I’d like to thank each and every one of you for your ongoing support.”

Lee leaned on the podium and straightened out his notes.

“I hope everyone had a nice holiday with their loved ones and has an exciting New Year planned.”

The White House press corps wished Lee the same.

“I don’t pretend to know what’s going on behind the scenes in Syria, but Secretary of State Quantrall and Deputy Secretary Radeska are leaving tomorrow to see if they can sort it out.”

“Their ultimate goal is to establish diplomatic ties with the new regime. On this trip, our goal is to gain insight into the state of the new government, and we feel that personally being in Damascus is a solid show of goodwill. America needs to know how the people of Syria feel about their new leader, and if there is heightened animosity after their former leader scurried off to Russia, seeking asylum.”

“Are we sure Elias Al-Mahmoud will sit down with Secretary Quantrall and discuss the situation peacefully?”

The president leaned more heavily into the podium, shifting the weight from his legs. “We are not sure. I wish I was, Barclay. There are many things about this trip that concern me, including the safety of the Secretary.”

“If it’s so dangerous, why risk it, sir?” asked another reporter.

“Secretary Quantrall feels the possible gains outweigh the inherent risk associated with a diplomatic mission such as this. While he’s in Damascus, he’ll assess the goals of the HTS party, giving us insight into what their future might bring.”

“Have you been in contact with the leader of HTS yourself, Mister President?”

“I have not, but I’m willing to listen if he wishes to call me and have a conversation. After the Secretary’s visit, I hope that will happen. I’d prefer to be involved and not in the dark.”

“I understand.”

The press corps were on their best behavior today. Whether it was because of the holidays or Lee’s frailty, it was a welcome change.

Lee was tiring so he wound it up. “I can’t stand here much longer, so I’ll just say Happy New Year to you all and let Press Secretary Raney take over for me.”

“Best wishes for your recovery, sir.”

“Thanks to you all for your patience with me through this difficult time. I’m grateful.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Leaning heavily on his crutch, Lee limped into the Residence and Daniel helped him into the dining room. “Sit down, sir. You must have been doing too much this morning.”

“I didn’t want the media people to see that I could barely walk, so I didn’t use the crutch nearly enough. I’ll just sit for a few minutes, and I’ll be fine.”

“Get you a drink, boss?” I asked.

“I’d love a drink, but I’ll have to wait until the speech to the nation is over with. Then I’m taking the rest of the day off.” Lee sniffed the air and made a face. “What’s that smell?”

“Hoppe’s. Ted and I were cleaning my guns.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t recognize the smell. Gun oil, I’m guessing.”

“Good nose, boss.”

June and her two helpers came up from the kitchen and served lunch. Ham, scalloped potatoes and a green bean casserole. Biscuits still warm from the oven.

We three ate silently as we devoured our meals like starved jackals.

“This is a good lunch, boss. I’m starving. Don’t know why.”

“I do. You didn’t eat anything for breakfast but a raspberry turnover because of your run. How did that go, son? How many miles did you do?”

Ted rolled his eyes and held his tongue.

“Not as many as I should have. Shouldn’t have eaten anything. I barfed part way through. I’ll start earlier tomorrow if I’m not too hungover.”

“Keep your resolution.”

“You got any new rules starting tomorrow, boss?”

“Recapping all of my injuries from this year, I’d have to say a heavier focus on personal safety should be taking the lead.”

“Damned right it should,” snarled Ted. “You shouldn’t walk into any crowds without body armor on, Lee. Your body is stitched and stapled and barely holding together. It’s a damned shame what this job has put you through.”

Lee regarded his brother with affection, realizing that was possibly the most Ted had ever said about Lee’s safety. “Dan has been talking to me along the same lines, and we’re working on a solution.”

June brought coffee and filled our cups and Kamps called at the same time. I took my coffee with me into the sitting room to talk to him.

“Did Speedy get something?”

“Yeah, he’s got a name for you. Meet him at his regular bar at two o’clock.”

“I’ll be there. How much is this gonna cost me?”

“Four hundred.”

“Okeydoke. I’ll head downtown soon. Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“Nope. You don’t.”

I went back to the table and sat with Lee and Ted. When Lee left to go downstairs to make his Happy New Year speech, I leashed Alfie and headed for the Last Call.

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Feeling a little better after taking a break for lunch, Lee returned to the Oval and waited for the TV people to arrive. He stashed the crutch in his private bathroom out of sight, then hobbled to the Resolute desk and sat down.

“What is it, Yvonne? Why are you staring at me?”

Yvonne pursed her lips and then moved forward to lean against the desk. “Sir, I realize you despise the makeup they put on you, but I feel it’s my duty to tell you the studio lights will wash you out even more than you are already. You could use a little color today, so I’m begging you to let them do their job.”

Yvonne didn’t usually talk so boldly to Lee, so he took note of her concern. “I don’t want to look like a dead fish, but I also don’t want to look like they shot apple cheeks at me from a paintball gun.”

She giggled. “They’re called makeup artists for a reason, Lee. They’ll make you look naturally healthy with glowing skin.”

Lee snorted. “She’s a miracle worker if she can accomplish that. But, if you say this is necessary, then I’ll listen. I shouldn’t ignore the advice of my primary advisor, especially when it’s about makeup.”

Yvonne smiled and waved the makeup artist in. When all the fussing and preparation ended, he looked normal. Not made up or over the top—simply normal.

Lee sat behind the Resolute desk and blabbed non-stop for twenty grueling minutes about how wonderful the coming year would be. A total lie and he knew it. The world was in turmoil and the new year wouldn’t be any better. It probably would be worse.

He smiled and ended the short speech wishing everyone across the country a happy and prosperous new year.

“Wonderful, Mister President,” said the producer of the brief segment. “The nation loves to get a peek inside the Oval Office.”

I’d like to see less of it.

Last Call. Dive Bar. Downtown. D.C.

I’d been to the bar where Speedy hung out a few times and I knew how to get there without using the map lady.

Mid-afternoon, the parking lot was almost empty. I walked inside. The place was a ghost town, with only one guy at the bar, drinking away his sorrows.

No Speedy.

I picked an empty booth where I’d be visible from the door and sat down. The kid waiter rushed over, and I ordered a pitcher of Coors and two glasses.

Speedy liked tequila shots but I couldn’t remember the brand he liked…something that started with Don…Angel…Julio?

I finished my first glass of beer and Speedy ran in with his skateboard under his arm. He shoved the board under the table and sat down across from me.

“I couldn’t remember what kind of tequila you liked, Speedy.”

“You gonna buy me a shot of Don Angel?”

“It crossed my mind. Do you want food?”

“Nope. A shot and a beer and will do it.”

I waved the teen waiter over and ordered us some shots. Once the kid left, I asked the question that was burning a hole in me. “You find out what asshole is takin’ potshots at me?”

Speedy leaned in closer to whisper it to me. At the same time, he pushed a scrap of paper my way. “High-priced guy named Cobra. Don’t know his real name. That’s his professional name.”

“Uh huh. Professional assassin named Cobra. I might need a shot of tequila too.”

Speedy snorted, almost spewing beer out his nose.

I slid the cash over to Speedy, then whispered, “What about the other stuff I asked you to look into?”

He swallowed hard, and he began to frown. “Working on it, but what you’re asking is a lot. There are a shit-ton of rocks to look under to get what you need, but we can do it. It’s just gonna take us some time.”

“Has anyone caught on to what you’re doing?”

Speedy shook his head. “No one. Who would suspect us?”

Fair point.

“You need some cash to grease the wheels?”

Speedy shrugged, trying to look casual about it. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Consider this an advance, then.” I slid another grand across the table.

Money well spent.

Cottonwood Club. Downtown D.C.

Ted and I got ready at the Residence for our big New Year’s Eve night out at the club.

Lee sat in the living room with a bourbon in his hand and shook his head, “I wish I was going with you guys. I’m missing out on a night of fun and it’s pissing me off.”

“I’ll stay home with you, Lee,” said Ted.

“No. Absolutely not, Ted. You never go out and I want you to have some fun at Tommy’s club. I’ve been there once before and that’s a fun place. He has fans there who wear his T-shirts with his face plastered on the front. You’ll have a great time.”

“Are you sure, Lee?” asked Ted.

“I’m sure. I’ll watch something and then go to bed.”

We looped around to Georgetown to pick up Yvonne on our way downtown. I texted her when we were close.

Almost there. You ready?

Born ready.

As our driver pulled up to Vonnie’s house, she backed out of her front door, locking it.

Sweet baby Jesus.

Her black leather pants looked painted on, hugging every fabulous curve from her round ass down her statuesque long legs. Her matching bolero leather jacket looked tailor-fit, highlighting her slim waist.

And when she turned, the light reflected in a million different directions off her reflective halter top. It was like a dust cover on a sports car—you could tell by the curves it was covering something phenomenal, but you’d have to remove it to get the full effect. The stiletto heels were the icing on the cake.

She’s my friend, and it will never work.

“You’re lookin’ fierce, Vonnie. Ready for the night of your life?”

She slid into the back seat between Ted and me. Ted nodded politely but said nothing.

He might be in shock.

Vonnie slapped my thigh as the car pulled away, giggling with excitement. “More than ready for tonight. Do you know how long it’s been?”

“No clue. Tell me.”

“It’s been so long that I can’t even remember.”

I hadn’t seen this side of Vonnie before. “Then Ted picked the right night to come out because we gotta show Ted a good time.”

“Buckle up, Ted. We’re going to have a blast.”

Ted smiled, but I saw the fear in his eyes.

“You look fantastic, by the way, Vonnie. New outfit?”

She ran her hands along her leather pants, then flared out her bolero jacket to flash her…top. “Everything’s new. I decided I deserved to wear something spectacular after the year I had. Besides, I wanted to look hot for my two sexy dates for New Year’s Eve.”

“You almost had three. Lee wanted to come real bad, but he just couldn’t.”

“Better if he didn’t. Wherever he goes, it causes a gigantic clusterfuck. Not his fault, of course.”

“Nope. But I feel bad for him.”

“Don’t we all,” said Ted, staring out the window.

The parking lot at the club was full and we had to squeeze into a spot at the end of a row that wasn’t a spot at all.

We were fairly early, and I got a table for Ted and Yvonne near the stage while I went to help the band set up. They didn’t have to move their amps or anything like that because they played there every night, but there was a lot to do with the wiring and the guitars and shit like that.

The band’s regular start time was nine and just before nine, Vipond arrived alone and found our table.

“Hey Ben, I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up.”

“This is the hottest New Year’s Eve stop in town,” said Vipond. “The parking lot is full, and I don’t know where in hell my guys went to park.”

“You know Yvonne Harrison, and this is Lee’s brother Ted Armstrong.”

“Major Harrison.” Ben tried not to stare but couldn’t help himself. “Happy to see you and you’re looking fantastic.”

“Thank you.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Vipond shook hands with Ted.”

“Ted, this is Ben Vipond, the head honcho down at Spookville.”

“CIA,” said Ted in a low voice. “Yes.” One of Ted’s hot buttons was the government gathering intelligence and interfering in the private lives of ordinary citizens.

The server came around as I headed for the stage, and I heard Ben buy the first round. This was going to be a great night.

We finished our first set and were assaulted by screams and applause. The place was rocking with drunk people, dancing and singing.

I walked back to our table and my peeps were already havin’ a great time. Vonnie had a small forest of margarita glasses in front of her, and Vipond and Ted had empty beer mugs. Littered between everything, like grass in the sidewalk cracks, were empty shot glasses—a lot of them.

Vipond also had his hand resting on Yvonne’s arm as he leaned closer, grinning and chuckling.

Putting on the Spook charm.

Ted had downed a few beers himself, and he was in a happy mood. “The music is fantastic, Tommy. If I could play the guitar like you can, I wouldn’t do anything else. I’d pursue a music career.”

The server came back with another round for the table, and a second server followed with a tray of beers and shots for me, as well. “Compliments of that table of ladies,” she said, pointing. They waved excitedly, and I raised a beer to say thanks.

“Mister Allman has my CDs for sale on my merch table, I said. “He told me they’re selling pretty fast.”

“See,” said Ted. “You can quit all the dangerous stuff and just play your guitar and sing. It’s way safer.”

“Yep. For sure it is. I might take your advice, Ted. Been thinking a lot about doing exactly that.”

Midnight arrived in the middle of the third set and Harry stopped to give the countdown. Everybody in the crowd had been given noisemakers at the door and they raised a huge ruckus when the clock struck twelve.

From the stage, I saw Yvonne kiss Ben Vipond and then she kissed Ted and seemed to hold onto him for longer than Ben. From up here I could see what was going on, but I was missing all the good stuff.

Nobody was kissing me.

I wondered what Annie was doing at midnight in Texas. Made me miss her real bad.

Happy New Year, babe. I love you.

We stopped playing at two a.m. and the club closed down for the night.

Before I left, Mister Allman told me the CDs were all gone and he needed another case.

“I’ll put a note in my phone and have Austin ship more to you, sir.”

“Wonderful having you here for New Year’s Eve, Tommy. Always a sell-out when the fans know you’re coming.”

When Ted and I got to the parking lot, Ben was offering a very drunk Yvonne a ride home. He was holding the rear door open and gesturing for her to get in.

We loaded my gear, and then I stepped toward Ben. “Hey, Ben,” I shouted more forcefully than I meant.

“Yeah, Donovan? Wussup?”

“Make sure she gets home safe. I’m holding you responsible.”

Ben seemed to sober up for a moment. “You have my word, Tommy. Guaranteed.”

Ted climbed into our ride and said, “I’m not sure Yvonne should be leaving with that CIA guy, Tommy. I got a feeling about him.”

“I know what you’re sayin’. Ben comes off as shifty. Fuck, he left me twisting in the wind more than once, which is one time too many.”

“Does Lee know?”

“Nope, and I don’t want him to. Ben knows if he ever fucks me over again, I’ll come for him, and he’ll never see it comin’.”

Ted stared at me a moment, trying to see if I was serious.

I was.

“Well, he loves your music. Bought your CD. And he spoke very highly of you all evening.”

“That’s kind of him, but buyin’ one CD ain’t gonna buy my forgiveness, Ted.”

We looked out the window in silence for a bit before I eventually mumbled to myself, “It’ll take a fuck-ton more than that.”

CHAPTER NINE

Wednesday, January 1st.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Ted’s eyes were closed, and his head hung low as he nursed a massive mug of black coffee. He was lookin’ kinda peaked when I dragged my tired, hungover ass into the dining room.

Lee walked in shortly after me, his paper under his arm. He laughed out loud. “Well, aren’t you a pair? Now I know I made the right decision last night.”

June thought of everything. The delicate coffee cups were gone, replaced by giant ceramic mugs. I filled one with black steamy goodness, dumped a mittful of Tylenol in my hand and plopped in the chair across from Ted.

“We had us a time, boss. Sold all my CDs, too. An entire case. Twelve fuckin’ dozen. I’m calling Dooley later to get him to send another case to the club.”

“Congratulations, son.” Lee raised his coffee cup to me. “That’s an achievement.”

“Another achievement coming up, boss. I gotta be sober or damned close to it when Jesse picks me and Alfie up for the fuckin’ airport.” Alfie heard me say his name and leaned into my leg.

“Seeing the aftermath in living color is almost as good as being at the club in person.” Lee chuckled as he took a bite of his omelet. “I suppose you guys are too hungover to eat.”

Ted turned his head. “I couldn’t look an egg in the face this morning. Smelling them is a challenge in itself.”

“I’ll have toast. Maybe a beer on the plane. Hair of the dog n’all that.”

“You seem to be handling it better than my brother.”

“I was on stage, boss. I barely drank compared to Ted, Vonnie and Vipond. They were takin’ no prisoners last night.”

Lee set his cutlery down and raised an eyebrow. “Ben Vipond was at the club?”

“Yeah, not the first time, boss. He comes when I’m playing there. Kind of a fan. Ted said he bought one of my CDs.”

“I didn’t realize you two were buddies.”

“Yeah, we’re tight. Tight as two spooks in a dark alley. Benny-boy gave Yvonne a ride home.”

I looked at Ted and he rolled his eyes

The clunk of Lee’s cup against the table startled me. “What? That’s a story I’m choking on.”

I shrugged. “Alcohol makes people do stupid things, boss, and Vonnie was pretty drunk—check that, she was fuckin’ hammered. Maybe Ben’s stock rose after a half dozen margaritas.”

“Like the song,” said Ted. “The Girls All Get Prettier at Closing Time. Maybe the guys get better looking too.”

I laughed. “Ted gets it. Yeah, like that, boss.”

“I don’t know many country songs,” Lee shook his head, “but I have heard Yvonne express her distaste for Director Vipond.”

Ted was on a roll. “Gotta quote Joe Nichols this time, Lee. Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off.”

I burst out laughing. “Right on the money, Ted.”

Lee shook his head. “Would you guys stop it? I’m not buying into this Yvonne/Vipond match up one iota. Yvonne doesn’t like Ben. He probably just dropped her off on her street as a courtesy.”

“You keep believing that courtesy thing, boss. I’m calling it by a different name.”

“Aw, Jesus, Tommy. I don’t want to think that way.”

“I’ve got to get ready to go. Come on, Alfie.”

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Yvonne opened her eyes, confused. The room wasn’t familiar, although it was well-decorated and clean.

Did I rent a hotel room last night?

She had to keep her eyes closed to stop the head spins. She was still drunk, but a hangover headache was knocking to come in. Her gut was flipping, but she was determined not to puke.

As she lay there, breathing deeply, the delicious smell of cologne wafted up her nose.

I love that cologne. Ben was wearing it last night.

That’s when pieces of last night crashed into her already foggy brain.

Drinking. Laughter. Fantastic sex. More drinking and laughter. More mind-blowing sex.

It went on for hours.

Yvonne heard light snoring and opened one eye, glancing to her left.

Ben.

Covers off, bare-ass exposed and sprawled like a drunk starfish on his side of the bed.

Oh, my God, this is bad.

Moving with as much stealth as a drunk girl could muster, Yvonne retrieved her underwear and sparkly top from the floor and ran into the ensuite.

She needed a solution—fast.

As she closed the ensuite door, she glanced at the leader of the Western intelligence community. Still buck naked, face down, but no longer snoring.

She leaned on the vanity and considered a quick shower before she bolted.

That’s when Ben spoke, breaking the comforting silence. “Morning, Yvonne. I’m going downstairs to make coffee. Take your time and use whatever you want in there.”

What should I say?

“Uh, thanks, Ben.”

He’s making coffee. I’ll have one coffee, then call a cab. I don’t want him taking me home and finding out where I live. Oh, that’s stupid. He’s head of the CIA. He already knows where I live. Fuck.

Yvonne showered and dressed, thinking her tank top left little to the imagination. Great for a New Year’s Eve party, but not great for the walk of shame.

She peeked out the door and saw a Tommy T-shirt Ben must have bought last night. She snuck out and slipped that on.

She had to make an effort to regain some dignity. She was the advisor to the president, for chrissakes.

An unwanted glance in the mirror revealed the dark circles under her eyes.

I look like a hooker the morning after.

Shit.

And I gave it away for free.

She grinned to herself. Kinda worth it.

She touched up her makeup, tossed back a few Advil she found in the medicine cabinet for her throbbing head, then eased her way down the stairs.

The handrail is my friend.

Ben smiled as she walked into the kitchen. He filled a mug for her and asked, “Black?”

“Yes, please.”

“Nice T-shirt,” he whispered as he set her coffee in front of her.

Yvonne sipped her coffee—great brew—and admired the kitchen. Everything was clean, modern and top-of-the-line.

His entire house was lovely, and she hadn’t expected it. She’d always thought of Ben Vipond living in a sewer somewhere under the busy streets of D.C.

“Best New Year’s Eve I’ve had in years,” said Ben. “I think since my divorce I tend to avoid holidays and any kind of celebration.”

“I understand that way of thinking, Ben. After my latest trauma, I’ve been sticking pretty close to home myself, and avoiding social situations.”

Ben smiled. “Want to tell me about your latest trauma? I can tell by your voice it was a sad one.”

What’s going on? Ben Vipond is supposed to be a dick.

Yvonne sighed and had no idea why she felt like talking about her darkest secrets to a man she barely knew and was fairly sure she didn’t like. “I haven’t talked about this to anyone. I couldn’t. It was too painful.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Ben’s voice was kind and sympathetic. “I don’t want you upsetting yourself.”

Yvonne soldiered on. “I was in a relationship with a man from Texas. It ended and I didn’t know I was pregnant. Stressful time for me and I lost the baby.” Tears welled up in Yvonne’s brown eyes and she swatted them away. “I never wanted children. Only my career, but for some reason, I still cry over the loss.”

“Truly, tragic, Yvonne. I’ve never had any kids, so I have no idea how that feels. It must be heart wrenching.”

“I’m army, Ben. Army doesn’t cry.”

“Okay then, Army, why don’t I make us some breakfast, then I’ll drive you home?”

Yvonne held up her hand. “Don’t go to any bother, Ben. I don’t want to make work for you.”

Ben pulled out the frying pan and set it on the burner. “No bother. Today is a holiday, so my big plans consist of making you breakfast, taking you home, then watching the Rose Parade and football games all day long.”

Yvonne chuckled. “Sounds better than my plans. I was going to do some work and maybe some housework.”

Ben smiled. “But it’s a holiday, Army. We’re going to have pancakes in the living room while we watch the parade.”

Yvonne nodded. She realized she liked it when he called her Army. “I haven’t watched the parade in ages.”

“It’s settled then. We’ll hang out and veg the day away.”

Yvonne nodded, not quite believing she wanted to spend time with Ben Vipond.

I must still be in Margaritaville.

Joint Base Andrews. Maryland.

Charlie Radeska met us at Andrews. The crew of Air Force Two took our luggage and loaded it. I held onto Alfie’s leash and helped him up the unfamiliar steps as we boarded the plane for the long trip to Syria.

Nice cushy seats and we were able to spread out and get comfortable for the flight. Alfie settled on the floor next to my seat and I rested my hand on his head. I planned to sleep off my hangover, but Jesse and Charlie planned to work.

I closed my eyes and quickly drifted off. Nothing to wake up for until we landed.

Then, I’d try not to get my ass shot off.

Damascus International Airport. Syria.

Just over twelve hours and we were touching down in Syria. I tried my best to sleep and might have snoozed through about half of the trip. The other six hours were head-throbbing agony.

Alfie felt my pain and whined when I held back a moan. Sympathy whines because he could sense my pain. Dogs were smart, that way.

The doctor warned me. Flying was on my list of things I was banned from doing because of my head injury. I called it my ‘bitch list’ because people would bitch nonstop if I did any of them. So, nobody knew except me and Lukas. The list was hidden in my desk drawer at the farm where no one could see it.

If no one knew about it, then I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.

Our embassy in Syria had been evacuated, so there was no ambo riding in a limo to pick us up. The new guy in power—the head of the HTS—didn’t invite us here, and that meant we were on our own.

It’s gonna be rougher than Jesse thinks it will be.

Olivia Forbes had arranged for a shuttle from the airport to our hotel. She was Jesse’s assistant, and a seasoned member of the diplomatic corps. Jesse was a newbie and lucky to have her. She assumed there would be no cab stands at the airport, and she was right. If it weren’t for her, we would be walking to our hotel a few miles away.

The driver frowned when Alfie climbed in but said nothing. He eyed up Alfie’s military gear, then glanced quickly at me before turning to look out the front window.

Alfie caused no trouble unless I needed him to, but he was always ready.

Dama Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

The shuttle stopped at the hotel entrance and the driver unloaded our luggage. Jesse tipped him in American dollars, and he smiled but had that look in his eye.

I’d seen that same look in the eyes of the Taliban. They regarded Americans as the Great Satan and could barely stand to look at us. I’d come across some people in Afghanistan who wouldn’t even touch a white guy like me. It made them sick.

Talk about racism.

“They hate us here,” I whispered to Jesse.

“Hard to forget, Tommy, you can feel the tension in the air.”

“Let’s get everybody inside the hotel.” I held the door open, and Jesse went in first with Deputy Charlie right behind him.

Charlie’s role on this trip was to help Jesse in any way he could. We kept our numbers low to make security more manageable, but that meant leaving assistants and aides home.

Charlie checked everyone into the hotel and handed out keycards. Jesse, Charlie and me were in one suite, while their four-man security details from the Department of Diplomatic Security took up several rooms all around us.

I was introduced to the DDS agents as Jesse’s personal bodyguard. One guy nodded. The others couldn’t give a shit. After I was introduced, I promptly forgot their names.

Jesse remembered them all. He had manners that skipped some of us.

We ate dinner on the plane—courtesy of the US government—so we weren’t hungry. Still, after settling into the suite, unpacking, and thoroughly sweeping each of the rooms in the suite for listening devices, Jesse ordered coffee and sandwiches from room service.

I fed Alfie in my room so he wouldn’t bother anybody and left him there while I sat with Jesse and Charlie.

When the food arrived, we had a little meeting in the dining area of the suite. Nice and informal and I liked Charlie a lot. That guy knew tons about how the State Department functioned and he was up to scratch on all the trouble spots—Syria being near the top with all the new shit going on. New guys forcing the old guy to take a hike to Russia, n’all that.

Charlie knew his shit.

Charlie talked about the US embassy being evacuated. It was currently empty, and guards were in place to protect US property. A few guys from the National Guard wouldn’t be able to stand off a riot mob if hundreds of rebels came to destroy the building—just because it belonged to us.

Charlie expressed his concern several times for the few remaining guards, as well as an off-site field office the State Department ran.

“You guys have a State Department field office here?” I asked.

Charlie nodded. “We do. I’ve been trying to contact Station Chief Trask to inform him of our arrival but have had no luck so far. I felt he could offer invaluable insight into the ebb and flow of local politics.”

“Could it be poor infrastructure, Charlie? Maybe their landlines are down because of the takeover.”

Charlie shook his head. “Thought of that, so I used his cell and home numbers. I can leave voicemails, but no one ever picks up. That’s what worries me.”

I set my coffee down. “Then we should visit our field office. Do a wellness check to make sure everyone is safe. Going out at night in this area is probably a bad idea, but if that’s what you want, boss, I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s a good plan,” said Jesse, “but we’ll do it tomorrow morning. We can’t take unnecessary risks in this environment. That said, we should plan to evacuate everyone back to the U.S., including the soldiers. Once Syria has calmed down and some agreements are in place, we’ll repopulate our posts here.”

“That sounds sensible,” said Charlie.

It sounded like we were in for a mess of trouble and might need backup. I went to my room and called an enemy-turned-ally.

Ben Vipond.

I felt like fuckin’ roadkill after that flight, but I agreed to keep Jesse safe in this shithole, and trouble waited for no man.

Based on my pre-op briefing, ISIS was our main worry here. Our bases in the northeast were fighting to hold the line while they infiltrated down here.

ISIS was powering up in Syria and things were bound to get tougher for our troops. If we couldn’t hold on to the territory up there—blocking the easy way in from Iraq and Turkey—the Iranians and Russians would swoop in, killing everybody in their path.

Iran was the biggest supporter of terrorist groups and of various factions active all over Syria. Any of them would be pleased to kill Jesse in a New York minute and claim a victory over the Great Satan.

According to the super watch Blacky bought for me, D.C. time was eight hours behind, so he should be up.

I pressed Vipond’s contact.

“Ben, it’s Tommy.”

“Hey, Tommy. Happy New Year. Can I do something for you, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m in Damascus with Jesse and I could use more people. Who have you got in Syria that I can borrow?”

“Let me see who I have access to in that city, Tommy. Give me a few minutes to make some calls and I’ll call you back and tell you who I’m sending to you. Where is the Sec staying? At the Embassy?”

“Embassy has been evac’d, so we’re at the Dama Rumman Hotel. Don’t know the exact address but it feels like we’re downtown.”

“That’ll work,” said Ben. “There are rumors of ISIS soldiers pouring into Damascus as well as Iranian militia soldiers, so be careful. Are you there for a meeting?”

“Nothing official, but Jesse is trying for one. The new guy is making him talk to a flunky first. If it goes well, the big guy will meet with Jesse after.”

“Where’s the meeting?”

“They haven’t told us. ‘Security reasons,’ they said. Jesse thinks we might have to go to the palace.”

Vipond exhaled loudly. “Shit, Tommy. I don’t like the sound of that. When you’re in a dicey country, you never want to meet them in a place of power. Could you request a more neutral location?”

“Could try, I guess. I’ll mention it. Question for you, Ben. Is ISIS supporting the new government or against it? Probably a fuckin’ stupid question but it’s hard to know who is hating who at any given moment.”

“The HTS publicly claimed to be joining in the fight against ISIS,” said Ben, “but their position at the moment is tentative and they still do not control all of Syria.”

“Who controls the rest? The old leader?”

“ISIS-backed forces who supported the old regime. HTS is too weak to defeat them alone, and that’s probably why Jesse is there now—to offer support. But he has to be careful not to back the wrong horse.”

“What do you think? Is this new leader legit?”

Ben paused for a breath. “Unsure, and so is the Pentagon. We have increased the number of troops at Syrian bases in the northeast from nine hundred to two thousand, Tommy. ISIS strikes on our bases increase every single day.”

“Got it. If Flunky Boy is receptive to Jesse, then HTS is against ISIS, and we’re in. If he isn’t, then it’s all a fuckin’ lie, and we should get Jesse outta Dodge.”

“Simple but essentially correct.”

“Then we’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

“I’ll see who I can muster up for you. Don’t worry. I won’t lose sight of you over there.”

“Copy that.”

CHAPTER TEN

Thursday, January 2nd.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee anticipated his morning meeting with Yvonne with enthusiasm. He was anxious to see her after the party night on New Year’s Eve and he was keen to ask her questions about Vipond.

“I want to know what happened with Yvonne and Vipond,” Lee said to Ted.

“Wouldn’t it be rude to ask her a question like that, Lee? What she does on her own time shouldn’t be any business of the White House.”

Lee pointed a finger at his brother. “Unless her behavior was harmful to my administration in some way.”

“Tommy didn’t mention any press being at the club and I didn’t see anybody either,” said Ted. “Nobody saw the condition Yvonne was in after all those margaritas.”

“I’m thankful for that, Ted. After all, she is my senior advisor.”

“I don’t see Yvonne ever wandering that far from her dedication to you and her position as your senior advisor,” said Ted. “She’s smart and under all of that polish, she’s a soldier. We should be thanking her for her service.”

“You’re right, Ted. I’ve got no right to ask her how she feels about Vipond.”

“Attaboy. Play it cool and she might confide in you. That way, if she uses you as a sounding board, you don’t have to look like a prying doofus and cause her to be ticked at you.”

“Prying doofus, Ted? I won’t be able to get that out of my head all day.”

Ted chuckled. “I have a headache and need more coffee.”

“Serves you right.”

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Yvonne walked into the Oval Office with a smile on her face. “Happy New Year, Lee. I hope you had an enjoyable evening.”

“I stayed home with the dogs, Yvonne. Not what you’d call a celebration in the true sense of the word, but I wasn’t one of the ones hungover and I regard that as a bonus.” He laughed. “Did you enjoy yourself at the club?”

“I did. Great party atmosphere and the band is just amazing. Tommy was fantastic and his fans were loud and supportive every time he sang. All of his CDs were sold by the end of the night and he was pleased with that.”

“He told me. I’m happy he finally had time to finish the first one.” At risk of being a prying doofus, Lee put it out there. “Tommy mentioned that Ben Vipond showed up and joined you three.”

“Surprised me,” Yvonne’s voice took on a different, softer tone talking about Ben, “but he’s a fan of Southern Rock and knew a lot more of the songs than I did.”

“I don’t picture him as a rocker,” said Lee.

“Neither did I but he’s quite different away from the office. He and Ted had several long chats, and I know Ted hates the CIA and rarely talks to people he doesn’t know.”

“I’m glad you had fun. Shall we get to work?”

That chat didn’t tell me anything.

Dama Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

Not used to the fuckin’ time zone, my internal clock was way off the mark. I didn’t feel like eating breakfast when we went downstairs to the hotel dining room. Jesse and Charlie didn’t seem to be having any trouble, so I drank coffee and sat and listened as they went over the plan for the day.

Our first day in Syria. If we were to go strolling around out there on the city streets, we were bound to draw fire. I could feel it in the air. This country was like a fire that had died down, but there were enough embers and red-hot coals to flare up in seconds—bigger and better blaze than the first time.

Eventually, it was my turn to talk. “Ben’s contacting his assets here in Damascus. He said he’ll send people over for support. I called him last night and asked what he could do for us.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “We’re recruiting support from the CIA? Do you really think that’s necessary, Tommy?”

“Ben said he heard that ISIS soldiers were pouring into Damascus along with Iranian militiamen. If that’s true, we need to take whatever help comes our way. We’re in hostile territory, and we’re massively outgunned.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “We’ll be extra careful when we leave the hotel.”

“Where’s our first stop, boss?” I asked.

“Charlie wants to swing by the State Department building to check on Desmond Trask and the staff. We haven’t heard from them, and it’s concerning.”

“We can make that happen if you have time before you meet the government flunky.”

“That meeting isn’t until this afternoon, in the salon of the presidential palace at Mount Mezzeh.”

“Do we know how to get there?”

“The DSS is working on that,” Charlie said.

“Once they have a route, I’ll review it with them. I don’t like this one bit.”

Charlie huffed quietly. “I think you’re overreacting, Marshal Donovan. We’ll be fine.”

That’s the fuckin’ kiss of death. Thanks, Charlie.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Doing all the stuff he had to do for Tommy, Ben was late leaving for Langley. Didn’t matter because this stuff was more important. Tommy was worried for the safety of the Secretary of State and the kid never worried over nothing. Ben knew that for a fact.

He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for Johnathan Hightower in the CIA field office in Damascus. He waited while the phone rang, and John picked up on the third ring.

“Director Vipond, what can I do for you?”

“Johnathan, how are you? It’s been a while since we talked. Happy New Year.”

“Thank you. Same to you. How can I help you, boss?”

“I need a sit rep in Damascus because the Secretary of State and his undersecretary are there for a meeting with the new head of government.”

Agent Hightower scoffed. “Sit rep is simple, sir. Complete shitshow, with a small guerilla force trying to maintain control. Dicey, at best. Did they not bring their DSS security detail?”

“The DSS has a full complement, and Secretary Quantrall also brought Marshal Donovan along for extra protection.”

“Should I know him, sir?”

“If you don’t, you will. Donovan has worked for us in the past and is the best at what he does. He called me and asked for more support. He feels there might be trouble, and I said I’d help him out.”

“With all due respect, sir, what does a U.S. Marshal know about the turmoil in Damascus?”

Ben chuckled. “He’s not what he seems, Johnny, if you know what I mean. Trust me. That’s why I need you to round up some soldiers to beef up the Secretary’s security detail. We don’t want any incidents.”

“Agreed, sir. I’ll make those calls right away. I can get four immediately. Where is the Secretary staying?”

“He and the Deputy Secretary and Marshal Donovan are staying at the Dama Rumman Hotel.”

“I know it, sir. And when I send these soldiers over, who are they answering to? The DSS or Marshal Donovan?”

“Donovan called them in, so have him make the decision. If he wants to work alone, then he’ll let them know.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll arrange it immediately.”

“Thanks. I’m texting you Donovan’s sat phone number now.”

Ben called Tommy back and gave him the details of what he arranged. He then texted Hightower’s number to Tommy as his car pulled up to the gates at Langley.

A full day’s work done and I just got here.

State Department Field Office. Damascus.

Our SUVs pulled into the parking lot of our State Department offices in Damascus. There were cars in the parking lot, so I assumed people were working.

We stepped out of our air-conditioned vehicles into the stifling heat. Dry. As we walked toward the main entrance, people in the street stared at us, walking slowly and not caring what we thought. The tension in the air was so fuckin’ tight I coulda played a tune on it.

My head on a swivel.

None of the looky-loos acted out of place, but they were up to somethin’.

The skin on my arms prickled as the DSS clustered around their primaries. “Get them inside the building. Move it.”

The door of the small white cinderblock building wasn’t locked, and we pushed inside.

The office had been ransacked. Smashed computers, overturned desks, and words I couldn’t read were spray-painted on the walls.

The air inside was rancid, smelling of dead bodies and dried blood.

I smelled it before. Too many times.

“Stop,” I said, then faced the DSS agents. “Get your principals back to the SUVs. I’ll handle this.”

“Nonsense, Marshal Donovan,” Charlie said, pushing forward. “We know better than anyone what classified information we need to retrieve.”

Undersecretary Radeska pushed forward, oblivious to the quiet requests of his security team to listen to me.

He had moved ahead into the main office and stopped.

Two bodies on the concrete floor.

Remnants of Old Glory lay charred on the floor of the office at the back of the building.

Charlie hesitated for only a moment before he carefully crossed the main area to enter one of two offices. He popped his head in one door, then stepped out and puked.

As we caught up, he waved toward the office door. “Trask is in there, or what’s left of him. He was in charge of this office. He was an old friend from back in our college days. What a tragedy.”

I placed my hand on his DSS lead’s shoulder. “Get him outta here. He’s going to go into shock.”

His detail gently drew him back through the maze of refuse. “What about the bodies?” He shouted. “We have to get Des’ body back to Irene. I owe him that much.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie,” I said. “We’ll get all of these bodies out and send them back to the States for proper burial.”

“I’m going to take a moment and see if anything classified was taken,” Jesse said. “I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

I shook my head and stepped forward. “Seeing one and being one are two separate things, Jesse. You need to get outta here. Nothin’ you can do. They took what they wanted, and that’s that.”

His DSS detail seemed to agree because they also began to lead their primary out of the building.

We caught up to Charlie just before he exited. He was looking around, and his detail was letting him meander as long as he eventually moved toward the door.

“Where would the other staff members go?” Charlie mumbled.

“We’ll find them,” I said. “But for now, we need to get outta here.”

I exited first, then motioned for them to follow. The two security details were hustling their primaries toward their SUVs when the bullets started flyin’.

“Gunfire! Down,” I shouted, drawing my Desert Eagle.

The DSS wrapped their primaries as they moved them into the SUVs.

“Stay in the truck and stay low,” I shouted as I pulled out the Desert Eagle and scanned a one-eighty. Then I saw the soldiers explode from a doorway on the other side of the street.

Six of them.

The dumb fucks ran into traffic, laser-focused on me.

Idiot number one dodged to avoid a taxi and got smeared by a passing pick-up.

Another jumped away from that mess right into the path of a bus.

The others stopped to look at their dead comrades.

I dropped three of them where they stood.

The sixth ran away.

I ran to the truck, made sure Jesse and Charlie were okay, and hollered at the driver to take us back to the hotel.

Charlie was traumatized by the dead bodies in the State Department outpost. Charlie knew Trask. He was a career desk jockey, spending almost every working day in D.C., rarely venturing into foreign countries, and never visiting hotspots.

When your diplomatic world is on a computer or in meetings, it’s easy to forget that real people die in situations like these.

Dama Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

As Charlie’s team whisked him upstairs, I was flagged down by a man in his early forties, six-foot-three and built like a tight end, with four geared-up soldiers standing around him.

Marines. Gotta love ‘em.

The big guy extended his hand. “Marshal Donovan? I’m Special Agent Johnathan Hightower. I work for Ben Vipond.”

Very firm handshake.

“Nice to meet y’all, and thanks for comin’.”

Introductions all around. The Marine in charge was Sergeant Barry Ginsworth, who was also an interpreter. Bonus for us.

Jesse invited them up to our suite for a meeting and ordered coffee and food as we passed by the front desk.

He and Charlie needed some time to decompress, as well. The trip to the State Department was a lot to process.

Charlie was still shaken when we made it upstairs. He knew Desmond Trask and his family well, and for someone not used to dead bodies, seeing a good friend dead could fry your circuits.

And Charlie was definitely fried.

The food arrived quickly, and as everyone made themselves comfortable, Special Agent Hightower sidled up. “I saw the undersecretary rush through the lobby. Is he okay?”

“He wanted to visit the State Department’s offices because no one was answering their phone. We found out why.”

“All dead?”

“Looks like it, although we’ll have to get names and descriptions to confirm. We also have to get the bodies home.”

Ginsworth stepped in closer beside Hightower. “Get me all that info, and I’ll get our people out. I can get another team on it immediately.”

“Let’s set it up,” Jesse said.

Jesse, Hightower and Ginsworth huddled, texted several names and numbers to each other and then went to a quiet corner to call their people. In under fifteen minutes, a retrieval mission was arranged.

Charlie came back into the living room area and joined us. He looked pale and frazzled, but I got it.

Jesse wrapped his arm around Charlie’s shoulder. “We’ve just arranged the retrieval of the bodies, Charlie. It’ll happen very soon, and then we can lay our friends to rest.”

The undersecretary let out a sigh of relief and smiled in appreciation.

“On to our next problem,” I said. “We have a meeting two hours from now at the presidential palace. We need some intel before we walk in there.”

One of the marines spoke up. “On our last patrol, there were HTS soldiers actively guarding the palace perimeter, sir, but what we’ve noticed is the ebb and flow of battles. Two large forces are fighting wherever they cross paths. There’s no safe zone or recommendations I could provide for increased safety. The Marshal did well in calling us in. You’re gonna need all the help you can get, sir.”

“That’s concerning,” said Jesse. “If no area of the city can be labeled safer than any other, how is the safety of the palace?”

“The HTS sees the palace as the crown jewel, sir. It’s probably the most protected building there is. I doubt ISIS would attack it directly right now, but you can never say never, sir.”

“Well,” said Jesse. “I asked for the meeting, so I’ll have to show up no matter what the risk.”

“Understood, Mister Secretary. We’ll get you in and out of the palace safely.”

“Thank you. I know you will.”

Alfie’s tail wagged so hard, I could barely get his combat gear on. He knew exactly what it meant. We were going to run and take out the bad guys and he was always up for a good time and a wild run—and for the rewards he got afterwards.

Jesse smiled when he saw Alfie all geared up. “Do you think he likes being a soldier, Tommy?”

“He loves it. He used to be a Taliban soldier before I adopted him, but he saw the light and changed sides.”

That made everyone chuckle.

We talked about logistics and where the soldiers should be positioned, and then it was time to go. I joined Jesse and his DSS team in the elevator, along with Alfie.

“Come on, boy. Time to meet the new vice president.” Alfie sat beside me, leaning against my leg.

We walked into the lobby and waited for the rest of our group. “You gonna have a problem with the language, boss?”

“Sergeant Ginsworth has offered to help me out. I’m sure they might have translators, but I’d prefer to have someone from our side translating for me.”

I nodded.

“I’m glad you called for reinforcements, Tommy. I hope we won’t need them, but I’m glad they’re here, just in case.”

“My hope is they’re along for a nice quiet ride, but if shit goes down, we’re better for having them. It’ll give me a better chance of getting you out alive.”

Jesse turned his head and looked out the window, completely spooked.

Presidential Palace. Mount Mezzeh. Syria.

We divvied up our resources, so when the lead vehicle moved out, it had some DSS from each group and two soldiers. We were next, with Jesse, Charlie, Alfie and me, being driven by Sergeant Ginsworth. The trail vehicle had the remainder.

The trip through the city was pretty routine. A few stops for traffic, but nothing out of the ordinary. Damascus traffic was Sesame Street compared to D.C.

Jesse looked out the window as we drove. He was usually chatty, but not this afternoon. Coulda been nerves. Or maybe he was workin’ on what he was gonna say. These guys ruling Syria took their positions by force and probably weren’t big on talk.

Stuff like that changed the game.

When we reached the summit of the central hill overlooking Damascus, we also reached the palace. This was the exclusive residence of the leader of the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham—or HTS for short—the man who had crowned himself the new president of Syria.

The ousted president had fled to Russia with his family.

The palace guards weren’t hostile or friendly. They did their job and tolerated us being there because they were ordered to. They showed us where to park and then escorted us inside the grand front entrance, where we waited for another person to escort us beyond that point.

Inside the palace was cooler than outside, although I don’t think it had air conditioning. Cooking aromas wafted through the halls, giving the impression the space was occupied. Otherwise, it felt virtually empty.

As we walked the halls, we passed massive rooms filled with beautiful furniture. Vast untouched spaces and demonstrations of wealth—the likes of which the regular citizens of Syria had never seen. During the rule of the past president, the people had never been allowed to come near the palace.

Out of bounds for ordinary citizens.

Amazingly enough, the palace had not been damaged during the takeover by the HTS rebel group.

We arrived at our destination—a vast, elegant meeting room where Vice President Samir Al-Faris waited.

He greeted Jesse with a handshake and motioned for him to sit.

Jesse and Charlie sat with the vice president while I stood behind, watching for trouble, Alfie at my leg. The DSS fanned out to secure the room.

No bad vibes so far. I wanted it to stay that way.

Once they were seated, the vice president spoke. Al-Faris spoke passable English and didn’t need an interpreter, making communication easier and more natural.

“As the new ruling regime, we realize that a strong partnership with the US will serve to restore Syria as a nation. This is something we desire, and quickly.”

Quick and honest.

That opened up the conversation. Jesse, Charlie, and the VP talked about what Syria needed and how the US might stabilize and support their new government.

For two hours, the discussion continued. During that time, tea was served with trays of cakes and pastries. We were treated as respected emissaries inside the palace walls and that went a long way with me.

Before leaving, Jesse asked if there would be an opportunity to speak to the president himself. Al-Faris said he would try to arrange it and would contact Jesse at the hotel if it was possible.

They shook hands again, and the vice president smiled for the first time. I wasn’t sure I believed anything that was said during the meeting, but I wasn’t the one negotiating for our country.

Probably a damned good thing I wasn’t.

On the way back through the city, Jesse and Charlie chatted happily at the smoothness of their first meeting. They praised Al-Faris for his open and frank conversation, then praised each other on how they made excellent points.

They were oblivious to the soldiers who were mustering in twos and threes on the street as we drove along. Very quickly, those twos and threes became several dozen, and growing.

One of the marines in the lead vehicle spoke into my comm. “Syrian soldiers with a Turkish designation are in a confrontation with a large group of ISIS soldiers.”

“Yes, sir. How do you want to handle it?”

“Follow us and we’ll try to skirt around the fighting.”

“Copy that. No engagement with the Secretary in the vehicle.”

“Understood.”

“I leaned over the console and said to our driver, “Follow the lead vehicle. We’re going to bypass this trouble spot.”

“Yes, sir.”

Suddenly aware of the disturbance up ahead, Jesse asked, “Is that gunfire, Tommy?”

“Yes, sir. We’re taking an alternate route to go around the fighting.”

“Good call.”

The driver of the lead vehicle knew where he was going and was forced to go a long way out of his way to skirt around the trouble spot.

Although I figured we were lost about a dozen times, about an hour later, we were back at our hotel.

Damas Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

We did a quick debrief, and then the DSS grabbed extra rooms on our floor for the soldiers. I wanted them close in case we needed to move fast.

I crashed hard after that. Needed the sleep, anyway, to get rid of the dizzies. I felt them comin’ on, and if I don’t have those fabulous drugs the doctor gave me, the next best thing was a solid nap. By the time we went downstairs for dinner, it was gone.

I sat quietly while Jesse and Charlie discussed the meeting. Jesse felt optimistic and repeatedly said he was happy about the tone. Charlie had his doubts about Al-Faris.

Jesse felt confident that Al-Faris would arrange a meeting with President Al-Mahmoud for the following day.

Jesse rose and adjusted his suit jacket. “I’ll call the president and give him an update. What time is it in D.C.?”

I looked at my watch. “They’re eight hours behind, so it would be about eleven in the morning.”

Holy shit. I’m gettin’ the hang of this.

“Perfect. I’ll call from upstairs.”

I stood and stepped toward Jesse, who looked at me funny. “Surely I’m safe inside the hotel, Tommy?”

I smiled. “This is Syria, Jesse. The only place you’re truly safe is Texas.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Friday, January 3rd.

Damas Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

Alfie and me were up before anyone else, except the Sunni Muslims. They were already up for prayers. We picked our route carefully and did several tight loops around the hotel. We weren’t looking for trouble and wanted to avoid it if we could.

I ran strapped, with my Eagle secured under my T-shirt. It wasn’t ideal, but I also wasn’t an idiot.

We listened for gunfire and felt the air for violence. I was beginning to feel the beat of the city. It was all about reading the energy around you.

I learned a lot about energy from Misty.

If Vipond was right and ISIS soldiers were pouring into Damascus, it sure as fuck wasn’t for a peace rally.

Alfie growled a few times as we jogged for about six blocks in both directions and then returned to the hotel. Saw one beat up gray Hilux a few times. Might have been different ones, but I doubted it.

When I walked back into our suite, the delicious smell of breakfast washed over me. Even Alfie whined a bit. Jesse had ordered a ton of food from room service. It was neatly arranged on the dining table, as well as two carafes of coffee.

“Did you go out for a run, Tommy?” asked Jesse. “Do you think it was safe?”

“Uh huh. Me and Alfie ran around this area of downtown a bit and things seem fairly quiet. I was strapped…just in case.”

Jesse made himself a coffee with cream. “You know how to move in these situations better than me, so I’ll trust your judgment.”

I took off my shirt and wiped away my sweat. “What’s on the agenda for today, boss?”

“We’ll wait for the president to decide if he’s going to see us,” said Jesse.

“And if the answer is no?”

Jesse shrugged. “Then we go home. Simple as that. There’s no other reason for us being here. I received an update this morning that the military is retrieving our dead from our local State building and will see to their care on the flight home. They will also remove any hardware and documents worth saving. They confirmed early this morning that the building has been secured.”

Charlie nodded. He was still visibly upset about his friend.

“Copy that, boss.”

Hope the new president don’t take all day to decide. I want to get home.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee was dragging his broken body out of bed and moaning with the effort when Jesse called him from Damascus. He let out a breath and picked up his cell.

“Good morning, sir. Hope I didn’t wake you. Just calling to give you an update.”

“Wonderful. Apologies for missing your call yesterday. I was drowning in meetings. I really need a new VP to take some of the load off. Tell me what you’ve accomplished so far.”

“One successful meeting with the new vice president and we’re currently waiting to see if President Al-Mahmoud will meet with me.”

“What are your thoughts? Do you think you’ll get the invitation?”

“The meeting yesterday went very well. They want our help but are hesitant about how the citizenry will view the optics. Many people on this side of the world still see us as the Great Satan.”

“And if you don’t get the call?”

“If the answer is in the negative, then we’ve done all we could to reach out and we’ll come home.”

“At least we’ve made initial contact in person,” said Lee. “That’s important. So important for them to know we care enough about Syria to come in person. Let me know later if a meeting is possible or if you’re on your way back.”

“I will.”

“Good work, Jesse. It’s a great start.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Hot water cascaded over Yvonne’s naked body as she reminisced about New Year’s Eve.

Ben Vipond.

Who knew Benny Boy would be such a rocket in bed and such a gentleman in the morning? Yvonne admitted she had definitely misjudged him.

New Year’s Day was almost as wonderful as the previous night. He cooked a fantastic breakfast, then they watched the parade and had sex in the living room. Then he made lunch, and they watched some football before he finally drove her home.

God, I want to see him again, she thought. I hope Lee stays in his lane, though. He seemed overly interested in our evening, and I’d like my private life to remain just that—private.

Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood stairs as she made her way down to the kitchen. Every morning, she started the coffee, then returned to her room to get dressed and put on her makeup.

The doorbell rang.

She tightened her robe and looked through the peephole.

Delivery? This early?

She slid the chain on the door and opened it a crack.

Yes?”

“Delivery for Major Harrison.”

Yvonne removed the chain and opened the door. “Thank you so much.”

The bouquet of flowers was beautiful, with vibrant colors and scents to match.

She plucked the card out as she walked toward the kitchen. The message was simple but conveyed so much.

Thinking of you. Ben.

Yvonne smiled as her body tingled warmly.

Ben is so sweet, she thought. We really clicked, especially in bed.

Yvonne sat at her kitchen table, coffee mug in hand, and pulled out her phone.

CIA Headquarters. Langley. Virginia.

Ben sipped his coffee as he read the morning bulletins and leaned back in his new leather chair. He ordered a new one after the Lana Stoner fiasco.

Ben was back in the role he loved, and since the day he was reinstated, he arrived early and stayed late unless he had something worthwhile to do.

Which rarely happened.

And then, New Year’s.

Now, he found his mind wandering far too often to that night with Major Yvonne Harrison, the sexiest major in the U.S. Army.

He jumped, startled, when his cell chirped.

Yvonne. It’s as if she knew.

A warm happiness spread through his body.

Ben used his sexy, quiet voice. “Morning, Army. Gotta say—I’m struggling to keep you out of my mind, and just as I get focused on work, you call. It’s kismet, or destiny.”

Yvonne laughed. “I called to thank you for the gorgeous flowers. They brightened my day.”

“Glad you liked them. Want to return the favor?”

“I’m listening,” she said as scandalously as she dared. “What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner tonight.”

“Where? It’s Friday. We’ll never get in anywhere popular.”

“Leave that to me. Yes or no?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

Ben smiled even more. “Perfect. I’ll make reservations and pick you up around seven. Do you have any plans for tomorrow morning?”

She chuckled, knowing what he was alluding to. “Maybe work. Lee needs me on the weekends occasionally.”

“Forget about Lee. I’ll see you at seven.”

The line disconnected, and Ben fantasized about that night.

A polite ding sounded on his computer, bringing Ben back from his daydream and into reality once more.

Call Donovan with Syria update, it said.

Ben chuckled. His life almost felt normal for a second. He took a sip of his coffee and called Tommy.

“Hey, Ben.”

“Morning, Donovan. How’s Syria?”

“Fuckin’ shitshow. Got lucky with one attack.”

“Oh?”

“The dumb fucks ran into traffic. Two got smoked by vehicles, I shot three while they looked at their buddies, and the last one ran off. We won’t get that lucky again.”

“Fuck. Everyone made it out unscathed?”

“Yep. As I said—lucky. That’s why I wanted the extra firepower. Thanks for Hightower and the Marines, by the way. I hate to say it, but I think we’re gonna need them before we get outta here.”

“Based on this morning’s intel briefings, I feel you’re right. More ISIS soldiers are marching toward Damascus, and our intel indicates that the HTS soldiers are gearing up to meet them head-on. Until HTS controls all of Syria, the violence is unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“Good copy. I’ll inform Jesse and double-check all security measures. If he’s invited for a second meeting, I want him to get there and back in one piece. Thanks for the intel, Ben.”

“You bet. Call if you need anything. Be safe, Tommy.”

“That’s always my goal.”

Damas Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

Several hours after breakfast, Jesse got the call he was waiting for. Big smile on his face when he got off the phone. “The president is anxious to talk to me. Seems the vice president put in a good word and we’re moving up the ladder. We have an hour and a half to get to the meeting.”

“Same place we went yesterday?” I asked.

“Yes. Back to the palace. At least we know the way and I have a strong feeling the reception will be friendlier this time.”

“Think they’re liking us more now, boss? I hope you’re right.”

“You sound skeptical, Tommy.”

“With more ISIS soldiers moving into the city, I’m thinking those fuckers will be against you meeting with the new president.”

Jesse frowned. “How could ISIS possibly know about the meeting? I’ve only known about it myself for three minutes.”

The Sec State took the next five minutes to rattle off a thousand reasons why I was wrong. It was his trip, so I let him unload. He finished his rant with, “Tommy, I know the risks. But if I let fear dictate my actions, I may as well go home.”

Charlie decided to chime in. “You’re being overly cautious, Tommy. It doesn’t help our cause to worry needlessly about things that might not even happen. Speculation is good, but the hard facts are that we’re in a foreign country that is experiencing turmoil. We knew this coming in. Let’s just deal with things as they evolve, shall we?”

The DSS guys looked at me, but all I could do was shrug. “You guys are in charge. I’m just trying to keep y’all alive, but what the fuck do I know?”

Charlie scowled, but Jesse smiled at me. “We’re making great progress, Tommy. Let’s enjoy the win and see where it takes us.”

Dreamers.

I pulled out a smoke and walked toward the window. Saw a gray Hilux sitting across the road.

Might be the same one. Might not.

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Jesse could sense that I was pissed. “Tommy, we have plenty of backup firepower and bulletproof vehicles. What could go wrong?”

I stopped and turned. “Worst-case scenario? I bring you both back in body bags.”

Jesse stared at me, stunned.

Charlie scoffed. “Jesus, Tommy. The Middle East isn’t like the war movies you kids love. Sure, there are some bad apples, but we’re here to see the president. I’m sure he told his soldiers about us, and they’ll be watching for our safety. We should trust our host.”

I closed the curtain. The Hilux never moved. “I’m just sayin’—”

Charlie cut me off. “Get it together, Donovan. Jesse, we should leave in the next five minutes. It’s still early enough that we might miss any traffic snarls.”

Traffic snarls? This ain’t D.C. More likely, we’ll drive into a mob of armed murderers.

Jesse walked down the hall, calling over his shoulder. “Let me grab my briefcase. Then I’m ready.”

Alfie sat beside me, fully geared up.

He looked bad-ass.

I snapped his leash on, and he wagged his tail.

I whispered so only Alfie could hear. “Here we go, buddy. Back into the shit again.”

Presidential Palace. Mount Mezzeh.

The gray Hilux drove away as we eased into traffic. I mentioned it to the DSS team. They made a note and snapped a few pics, but they were toeing the line.

The air was hot and dry, like most days, but with the air conditioning on and the windows up, it felt like we were in a different world.

The first portion of the trip to the palace on the hill was uneventful. Jesse and Charlie sat in the back seat chatting happily like they were on a school trip to the fuckin’ zoo, while I looked out every window of the SUV so I wouldn’t miss the first sign of trouble.

I could feel it.

Alfie was way back in the hatch, and he could probably feel it too. I could hear him whine every now and then. He didn’t like riding back there. Too far away from me.

The driver forged ahead.

As we got closer to the palace, I sucked in a breath knowing it was going down soon. I just fuckin’ knew.

We saw more people milling about as we got closer to the palace. The closer we got, the more people we saw. Coulda been a coincidence. Maybe I was paranoid.

Doubt it.

About two minutes outside the palace, karma proved me right.

Karma could fuck right off.

“Trouble up ahead,” said our driver. “Too many soldiers. I don’t think we can get around them.”

“Could you turn around and find an alternate route?” asked Charlie from the back seat.

“It’s too late for that, sir. We’ve got soldiers ahead of us and more closing in behind. We’re trapped.”

“Stop the vehicle, Sarge.”

Into our comms, I said, “One SUV on either side.”

Our SUV stopped, and the vehicles pulled close beside us.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Jesse said. “Is this wise?”

I opened my door. “No more debating Jesse. I say, you do. Understand?”

He nodded slowly.

“Good. Both of you—stay down. Move when I say and not before. Do anything except what I say, and you’ll end up shot. Now, lay down on the floor and the seat.”

I ran around to the hatch for more fire power and slung an HK 416 around my neck along with an ammo belt. “Come on, Alfie.” He jumped out and I slammed the hatch closed.

“Marines with me. DSS with the secretaries.”

Jesse and Charlie still sat upright, staring out the fuckin’ windows. The fuckin’ soldiers ahead stared back and pointed.

I yanked the back door open and hollered. “Lay the fuck down, you two. I mean it.”

Charlie stared at me like I was shit. “I think you’re overreacting, Tommy.”

“Suit yourself, dumbass.” I slammed the door.

The Marines were by me in a heartbeat.

“Sit rep, Ginsworth. Who’s who?”

Ginsworth hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Remember those uniforms. They’re HTS soldiers. Our guys. The guys in front are all ISIS.”

Holy fuck, there was a lot of them.

I looked back over my shoulder and saw that our HTS support numbers were growing. Rough count—we had about ninety HTS boys. ISIS had sixty.

We also had four kick-ass Marines, six dedicated DSS agents, Alfie and me.

We had a chance.

The precursors to any bloody scrap were always the same—everyone yelled, shit-talking and pounding their chests.

Shouting never killed no one.

The next stage might, though.

“What’re they sayin’, Ginsworth?”

“ISIS is saying we should die. HTS says to let us pass, or they’ll shoot the ISIS fighters. Fuck you. No, fuck you. We’re going to kill you. No, you’re going to die. Your mom’s a whore. Usual dick-measuring bullshit.”

“Copy that.”

It never mattered who fired the first shot. What counted is who walked away.

Crack.

A single bullet ricocheted off the front windshield, and it was on.

Bullets slammed into the windshield. Then they lit our convoy up like the Fourth of July.

We tried to return fire, taking cover behind the armored doors.

“RPG!” someone shouted. “Two o’clock.”

We focused fire, mowing the bastard down before he could take a second breath.

The ISIS fighters surged forward, filling the gaps of their fallen.

A few HTS soldiers dropped. Not dead but not running any marathons anytime soon.

“RPGs!” someone yelled again. Plural.

Two of the fuckers this time, and they had cover.

I unloaded half a belt, cutting into their human shield. One went down.

The other got a shot off.

The explosion rocked the SUV, shearing the door clean off. A DSS agent flew backward and hit the pavement hard.

I watched for movement.

Jesus. He stirred. Not dead—just real fuckin’ close.

Then, a scream somewhere else.

Sharp. Panicked.

I turned.

Fuck.

Charlie was bolting for the hotel like it was his fuckin’ salvation.

“Down, Charlie!”

Too late.

Crack.

The shot caught him mid-stride. He crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.

Fuck.

We dumped fire into the stragglers, dropping most of them where they stood.

A few tried to run. We returned the favor for Charlie.

Alfie took one down hard, teeth buried in the guy’s calf.

Atta boy.

Gunfire slowed. Then stopped.

Time to move.

“Cover me!” I sprinted to Charlie.

Ragged, shallow breathing.

His eyes darted wildly. Fear, pure and unfiltered.

“Charlie. It’s Tommy. You’re okay. I need you to breathe.”

He was shaking like an addict.

A Marine medic dropped beside me, ripping Charlie’s shirt open.

He poked around, running his hands over Charlie’s shoulder.

So much blood.

“Through and through. Right shoulder. He’ll live.”

An SUV screeched up. DSS agents hauled Charlie inside. Two agents carried their fallen friend to the SUV.

“Put Charlie in the back.”

Once Charlie was settled, I leaned in. “Charlie. You’re gonna be fine, and you’re gonna have a wicked war story. The wife will dig that.”

His teeth chattered. He nodded weakly.

I slapped the roof. The SUV peeled out.

Jesse’s DSS detail approached, scanning the horizon. “What’s our next move?”

I grinned, wiping blood off my forearm. “We make our meeting. A couple of guys with BB guns ain’t stopping the U.S. of A.”

The detail leader hesitated. “Are you sure, Marshal?”

I shook my head. “We wrecked that squad. They need a better plan. By the time they figure one out, we’ll be gone.”

“Copy that.”

Jesse leaned out. He looked pale and nervous but tried to play it cool. “You were right, Tommy. I should’ve listened.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. We lost some HTS guys. One DSS is down but breathing. And Charlie.”

Jesse sighed. “I told him to stay put.”

“Full-on panic mode, Jesse. Ain’t no reasoning with that.”

Both SUVs were wrecked. The windshields were spiderwebbed, but I wouldn’t let anyone kick them out. It did its job. Might have to do it again.

We rolled into the palace late, but breathing.

HTS guards swarmed us, weapons raised, scanning the streets. They knew what went down. They weren’t letting it happen again.

We were escorted into the palace by more soldiers, and we finally met the president, his look of worry quickly changing to relief.

Jesse slid into his role of diplomat quickly, never missing a beat. He drank tea and ate little biscuits, but I bet he wouldn’t have said no to a few shots of Texas bourbon.

The room was bristling with guards, all pointing out toward any potential attack. So the DSS and I stood back a bit, watching the discussions unfold as we stood guard.

Jesse and Al-Mahmoud seemed to agree on a lot of points. Jesse shook his head a couple of times, but the talk seemed positive. No raised voices and both sides made a ton of notes.

After a ton of hand-shaking and smiles, we were escorted to the door. Jesse looked supremely happy, and that’s all I cared about.

Mission accomplished.

Damas Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

We exited the elevator on our floor, and as we approached the door of our suite, a doctor opened it.

After brief introductions, Jesse extended his hand. “Thank you for coming sir.”

The doctor grinned. “It probably looked worse than it actually is. A few stitches, a few painkillers, and he will be playing baseball in no time.”

The doc chuckled at his own joke, probably proud he made a relevant American baseball reference.

Charlie was bandaged up and lying flat on the sofa, moaning quietly and cradling a bottle of painkillers.

Jesse sat in one of the easy chairs. “What did the doctor say, Charlie?”

“He said the bullet went right through, but it feels like more. He said to keep my shoulder immobilized in the sling and let the stitches heal. Take the pills on time, and that was about it.”

“I’ll have dinner sent up. Rest until it gets here.”

“Thanks,” said Charlie. “The pain pills are making me sleepy.”

“We’ll go home in the morning,” said Jesse. “We’ve established a line of communication with the new government of Syria, and the trip has basically been a success.”

Charlie nodded. “My own fault I got shot. Tommy said to stay low and stay in the truck, and I didn’t listen.”

“Glad you ain’t dead, Charlie.”

“You and me both.”

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Lee was in a meeting with two senators and tempers were beginning to flair when his cell rang and gave him an excuse to step away from an argument he had no chance of winning.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I have to take this call.” Lee slipped into the ensuite and closed the door. “Hey, Tommy. Everything going okay?”

“I’m calling it a victory, boss. Meeting’s over, and we’re heading home in the morning.”

“That’s great news, Tommy. I’m glad it went smoothly.”

I chuckled. “Never said anything about ‘smoothly,’ boss. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. It’s dinner time here, and the food just arrived.”

“I’m intrigued and look forward to your debrief tomorrow. Tell Jesse congrats for me.”

“I’ll tell him, boss.”

“Ted was asking when you’d be back. I think he wants to go to the club again.”

“Might go straight home. I’ll see what time I get there tomorrow night.”

“Don’t worry about your arrival time. Ted and I will wait up for you. You sound extremely tired.”

“Yep, I’m beat, boss.”

I chuckled. “Some trouble, but we ain’t dead.”

“Was there gunfire?”

“A fuck-ton.”

“Jesus. But everyone made it out okay?”

“Charlie was shot in the shoulder.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?”

“Through and through. He’ll live.”

“What the hell was he doing to get shot?”

“Runnin’ away.”

“From a gunfight?”

“From an ambush.”

Lee exhaled. “Holy shit. Okay. That’s enough. It will be a relief when you get back to D.C.”

“Copy that, boss.”

I hung up, smiling.

I love teasing Lee.

Lee walked back to his desk, smiling.

“Good news, Mister President?”

“Excellent news, gentlemen. Now, where were we?”

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Ben knocked tentatively on Yvonne’s door. It was his first actual date in years, and he actually liked Yvonne. They had only just met, but there was a real connection, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

Yvonne beamed as she opened the door to invite her date in. Ben was breathless as he soaked in her beauty. Knee-length couture dress, Jimmy Choo shoes—her favorite, and jewelry that said ‘look at me’ without screaming it.

Ben tried to catch his breath.

I’m in over my head.

“You look stunning.”

“Thanks.” Yvonne laughed dismissively. “I put some effort into it since this was a genuine date. Can’t even remember my last one.”

Complete lie.

She vividly remembered blowing a hot date with Tommy a long time ago and vowed not to do it this time. “Would you like to come in for a drink or do we have time?”

“Our reservation is for eight downtown, so it would depend on traffic.”

“Only an hour to get there. We should go then.” Yvonne picked up her purse and set the alarm on the panel at the front door.

Ben watched her punch in the numbers. “This seems like a safe neighborhood.”

“I don’t really know my neighbors.”

Ben laughed. “I don’t know mine well either.” He opened the passenger door and helped her into his BMW M8 Coupe.

Yvonne winked. “Such a gentleman.”

Bobby Van’s. Downtown Washington. D.C.

Ben spoke to the maître d’, and they chatted like they knew each other. “Your table is ready, Director Vipond.”

“Thank you, Simon.”

Ben held Yvonne’s chair for her while she sat down.

“I’ve never been here before. I guess I don’t get out much.” She giggled a little nervously. “There’s always the chance some media person will spot you and take your picture.”

“I’m not that newsworthy,” said Ben, “but on the other hand, you are.” He winked at her. “Especially in that dress.”

“I don’t wish to be. I’m a private person.”

“Everybody knows you’re the president’s right hand, Yvonne. You’re fair game for the eleven o’clock news.”

“Don’t want to be hunted, Ben.”

“Don’t blame you. The press can be brutal.”

The waiter zoomed over to their table and inquired about wine choices. “Would you like to see the sommelier?”

Ben looked across the table at Yvonne for the answer and she shook her head. “I’m no longer drinking wine, thank you. I’ll have one margarita, but only one.”

Ben chuckled.

“And for you, sir?”

“If Arthur still has that bottle of thirty-year-old Macallan stashed away, I’ll take two fingers of that. If not, something close. Neat, please.”

“Scotch connoisseur, are you?” Yvonne asked.

“A good friend once told me that life is too short to drink shitty booze, and he was right. Now, I pay extra but truly enjoy my drink.”

Yvonne rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “What else do you like?”

“Dancing, but it’s impossible to find someone who wants to join. Any interest?”

Yvonne smiled. “I’d love to. Sounds like fun.”

They sat silently, staring at each other, grinning.

Ben broke first. “What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking that you’re surprising me, which is nice. I don’t like predictable.”

“I want to surprise you.” Ben reached over and put his hand over Yvonne’s. “We’re good together, Yvonne.”

The waiter picked that moment to deliver their drinks and then scurried away leaving them alone.

Yvonne took a sip of her margarita, set it down and reached for the menu.

Ben shook his head. “I don’t want to order yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to rush. I want to enjoy every moment of our first date.”

“You’re a romantic, Ben.”

“Perhaps a little.”

“No. A lot. A lot more than I imagined. Another lovely surprise.”

They were in no rush because that would mean the night would end, and neither of them wanted that. Appetizers were ordered and slowly devoured. The conversation never wavered.

The main courses were spectacular, and they shared each other’s, as couples often do. They discussed their meals, families, and childhood memories as they talked and laughed.

Neither usually ate dessert, but both ordered something. If it meant prolonging the end of this evening, they were willing to do almost anything.

After hours of engaging conversation, laughter and all-around fantastic company, they finished their coffees.

Once Ben paid, he pulled out Yvonne’s chair and retrieved her coat, helping her put it on.

“This has been exquisite, Ben,” Yvonne gushed. “I’ve never had such an amazing first date.”

Ben simply smiled, took her hand and kissed it.

That was the moment he realized he was in trouble.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Ben drove with one hand, holding Yvonne’s hand in the other as they headed for Georgetown. He parked in the driveway, and they kissed, long and passionately.

Ben sighed. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, but I don’t want this evening to end, Yvonne.”

“Then come in. My townhouse isn’t as extravagant as your place, but I have coffee, and I might even be able to dig up a decent bottle of scotch.”

He snickered. “You know me so well already. I’d follow you even if your cupboard was bare.”

She laughed. “Then prepare to be satisfied because normally, it is.”

Except when Roy is here.

Yvonne turned the lock and set the alarm. “Looks like you’re locked in until I turn off the alarm.”

Ben rested his hand on his chest. “Oh no,” he said mockingly, “whatever will I do?”

Yvonne screamed excitedly as Ben slid his hands under her dress and kissed her with reckless abandon.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Saturday, January 4th.

Damas Rumman Hotel. Damascus. Syria.

Charlie was moaning so loud I could hear him down the hall. It was freakin’ out Alfie.

Jesse wasn’t any quieter, hustling around the suite, making arrangements for our flight home today. He also made sure everyone was aware of Charlie’s medical needs.

The guy did get shot, after all.

I threw on some clothes and walked into the living room. “Morning, Jesse.”

Jesse was still beaming from yesterday’s victory with the HTS. A huge opportunity for America, and he knocked it out of the park. “We’ll skip ordering room service and eat on the plane.”

“Solid plan,” I said. Me and Alfie were packed in five minutes and ready to go. I even had his leash clipped on.

The Marines arrived at our door, and Jesse thanked them again for helping us.

While shaking Jesse’s hand, Sergeant Ginsworth said, “We’ll escort you to the airport, Mister Secretary, and see you safely onto Air Force Two.”

“Thank you.” Jesse shook his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, sir. Thank you for your service and for your support while we were here in Syria.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Damascus International Airport. Syria.

The pilot and crew were ready for us when we arrived. The steps were lowered, and we moved quickly from the SUV onto the plane. Charlie was a bit wobbly on his legs, but he was a long way from needing a stretcher and I was happy about that. Didn’t look good on me if I brought back the people I was guarding on stretchers or in body bags.

We buckled in and were in the air twenty minutes later. Once we were cruising along smoothly at a high altitude, the flight attendant served breakfast. I could’ve eaten twice as much, but it was enough for now.

If flying bothered me as much going home as it had on the trip over here, I’d toss it all up anyway. Didn’t want to think about it.

Jesse had his briefcase open to start work but all I wanted to do was sleep and hope to hell I didn’t get one of them blinding, killer headaches. I figured if we didn’t crash or get shot down, we’d be home by about nine tonight.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

When Yvonne heard Ben upstairs singing a happy little song in the shower she took the opportunity to call Roy. If she didn’t call him every morning, he would call her, and Yvonne didn’t want him to call while she and Ben were eating breakfast. Roy would be hard to explain.

Most days I can’t explain my feelings for Roy to myself. I love him so much and not always in a brotherly way like I’m supposed to.

“Good morning, Yvonne. I was just about to call you.”

“Beat you to it. How is your cat?”

“Punkin is wonderful. Did you like the videos I sent to your phone?”

“So cute. I showed one of them to Lee and he laughed.” They chatted and caught up until Yvonne heard Ben coming down the stairs. “Sorry, sweetheart, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Ben filled the mug Yvonne had set out for him and sat down at the end of the table. He added a drop of cream from the pitcher in front of him.

“Do you want toast?” asked Yvonne. “That’s all I can make. I’m not domesticated.”

Ben laughed. “Lucky for you, my mom taught me how to cook at an early age, and I love doing it. I’ve even taken classes. Why don’t I whip us up something? You’ll have to show me where everything is.”

“I think you know where everything is,” she cooed as she moved to straddle his lap. She ran her fingers through his hair. “I love your curls. They pop when your hair is damp.”

Ben cradled her ass with his hands and slid her closer. “It’s a little too long.”

“It’s the perfect length,” she whispered as she kissed him softly.

“What are we going to do today?” asked Ben. “How about a hike?”

Yvonne laughed. “I’ve never been on a hike, but I am back on my morning running program and my energy level has risen about seven notches.”

“Seven?” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Obviously, I’m not getting enough exercise, although I have been getting a lot more since New Year’s.”

Yvonne leaned into Ben and kissed him, gyrating a little on his lap and making him groan. She whipped off her top, grinding harder against Ben. “Your stamina’s been good so far.”

The trilling of her phone cut through the mood like a hot knife through butter. At the same time, they both yelled, “Fuck.”

“Jesus. It’s Lee. How many of my days off has he ruined?”

She slid her T-shirt back on and stared at her phone.

“See what he wants, and I’ll check the fridge to see if we can eat here or if we have to beg from the neighbors.”

Yvonne was laughing when she answered. “Morning, Lee. What’s up?”

“It sounds like you’re in a good mood this morning. Are you alone?”

“Not exactly.” She used her business voice knowing Lee would be fishing to see who she was with. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve called a meeting for ten-thirty.”

“Do we have an emergency?”

“We do. Can you make it? I need you here, Yvonne.”

“I can be there by ten-thirty.” She saw Ben check his watch and point at himself.

“Situation Room,” said Lee. “If it goes long, I’ll have lunch sent in.”

“Who needs to be there?” she asked.

“Director Dunnett and Carter for now. Jesse and Tommy if they were home but they won’t be back until tonight.”

“May I ask the topic, sir?”

“The vice presidency, or lack thereof. I’m realizing how much I need to fill that role and have someone to help shoulder the load. I’m buried right now, and I have no more bandwidth to take on more.”

“Agreed, sir. That is one vacancy that you need to fill quickly and with the right person. They can make or break your administration.”

Lee chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

“So, this morning’s meeting is a preliminary discussion?” asked Yvonne.

“Fact-finding mission. An exploratory meeting. Call it what you want, but we need to see who’s out there. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Understood, sir. We’ll talk when I get there.”

Ben had bacon sizzling in the pan when Yvonne ended the call. “Can you tell me what the emergency is? Am I in the meeting?”

“Sounds like a preliminary meeting to me. Blaine Dunnett and Carter and me. I don’t want to go to work but I’ve never given him a flat no. It’s kind of hard to do.”

“We’ll eat and you go,” said Ben. “I’ll drive down to Langley. If you’re working this morning, I might as well work too. If you want to call me when you’re free, we’ll spend the afternoon together.”

“Sounds good to me. Sorry I have to rush off.”

“Duty calls, Yvonne. You’re in a position where you can’t refuse to work or go on strike like a fuckin’ teamster.” Ben laughed as he cracked a couple of eggs.

“Funny guy.”

Old West Austin. Texas.

From the morning phone call, Roy could tell something was going on with Yvonne. She was far too happy and nothing could have caused such a dramatic change in her outlook except a new man in her life.

Chet meandered downstairs and settled into his chair. He sipped his mug of Kicking Horse coffee as Roy placed a plate of ham and eggs in front of him.

“Morning, Roy.”

“Good morning, Chet. I think Yvonne might have a new boyfriend.”

“That’s your fuckin’ opening line, Roy?”

“No use easing into it,” said Roy. “She’s so happy compared to how down in the dumps she’s been since the baby. It’s like night and day.”

“You think it’s Armstrong?”

Roy shook his head. “No. She’s known him for too long to get that excited over him. Definitely not the president.”

“Give me your best guess.” Chet was worked up and eating way too fast. He choked on a piece of ham and had to jump up and get himself a glass of water.

“Could be anybody she works with in the White House,” said Roy. “She must know dozens of men in Washington. She goes places with Lee all the time. Could be anybody in a designer suit.”

“That narrows it down.” Chet sank into his chair and let out a breath. “You won’t believe this, but I want to go to D.C. and see what’s going on. I’ve never wanted to do that before. I think I’ve lost my fuckin’ mind.”

“You feel the urge to go to D.C. because you still love her,” said Roy. “No getting around that.”

“Shit,” said Chet. “I don’t want her fooling around with some asshole in Armani boxers.”

Roy laughed. “I don’t see you doing anything to stop her.”

“Shut up, Roy.”

Situation Room. West Wing. D.C.

Yvonne floated into the Situation Room on a high. Life had taken a turn for her, and she was so happy, even a boring meeting with the president couldn’t bring her down.

“Good morning, Yvonne. Thanks for coming in on your day off.”

She smiled. “Good morning, sir. Our roles don’t allow for proper days off, only days when we serve our country in a different way.”

Lee raised a brow. “Poetic, Major. Shall we?”

She slid into her seat, willing herself to focus. Director Dunnett sat beside her, and Carter Levalley sat across from them. She and Levalley rarely agreed on anything, but today, for once, she didn’t care.

Lee sat forward, hands clasped. His sharp eyes never left her. He dove in.

“We’re getting close to a cease-fire in Gaza and hundreds of hostages will be released as part of the deal. Hamas has accepted a cease-fire draft that Jesse and I have put forward, and we’re moving into the final stages.”

“Wonderful,” said Yvonne. “That definitely needs to be discussed. Will you be going to the signing in person?”

“The two sides are close to accepting the plan Jesse and I have laid out, and as soon as he returns tonight, we’ll discuss the prospect of going in person. The plan has been drafted with segments to be completed in stages over several months. Hostages and prisoners will be released and traded on both sides. Of course, we have to agree to monetary aid for the rebuilding. That’s what the bottom line will be. How much are we willing to pay to stop the war?”

“Without question,” said Dunnett. “We’ve been very close to a cease fire before, but at the last minute the Israelis tend to get picky and find fault with several details. It wouldn’t surprise me if they refused again…at the last minute.”

“I’m thinking positive, Blaine. I believe Israel’s prime minister will approve this agreement,” said Lee, “and as soon as he gives the document his blessing, his cabinet will ratify it as a matter of course.”

“A long time coming,” said Dunnett, “but it will be a blessing for millions of people if you can make it happen, Lee.”

“Jesse was instrumental in helping me with the plan. Then it had to be approved by the UN, and when you’re anxious for something to happen, the wheels seem to turn more slowly.”

Yvonne nodded. “If this goes through, it’ll be a historic moment. Will Secretary Quantrall be visiting in person?”

“Him or the new vice president.”

The conversation flowed, but Yvonne felt Lee’s gaze flick toward her more than once.

When the meeting ended, Lee walked Yvonne towards the West Wing and asked her to come upstairs for coffee.

“I’m sorry but I have plans for this afternoon.”

“With Director Vipond?”

Her chest tightened. He was being too casual and too precise with his question. She forced a shrug. “We had dinner once. You know how much I like to keep my private life to myself. It’s really nobody’s business.”

Lee stopped walking, turning to face her. The hallway was quiet except for the faint rustle of papers from a nearby office.

“It might soon be everybody’s business, Yvonne.”

Her breath slowed. This was more than schoolboy curiosity.

“And why is that sir?”

He held her gaze. “Because you’ve been short-listed to replace Nathan Walsh.”

“In the vice president’s role?”

“That’s correct.”

Her heart raced as fast as her mind. “When did this happen, Lee?”

“During the past week there have been closed discussions.”

“Am I qualified?”

“No one is more qualified, in my opinion. And several cabinet members and senators agree.”

She swallowed. Her mind was still catching up, but one thought cut through the fog—Ben.

Lee stepped closer, voice low. “We need to discuss this at length and in-depth. Join me for dinner tomorrow but come early. We have much to discuss to prepare you for Monday.”

Can’t think of Ben, she thought. Must stay focused. “What’s happening Monday?”

He smiled, and at that moment, he was very presidential. Controlled. Certain.

“Nothing’s carved in stone. But I want you prepared.”

Her mouth was dry. “Will three in the afternoon work?”

“Three will be fine.” He smiled.

“I’m not at all sure about this, Lee. I don’t feel I’m qualified for the position.”

“You are more knowledgeable and qualified than the others on the list, Yvonne. All your years at the NSA taught you volumes about every corner of the earth and all the dangers we face. I believe you’re the ideal person for the post and my vote does carry a lot of weight.”

“Of course, it does, Lee. I’m overwhelmed by this news, and I need to think. Let me go into my office and catch my breath and I’ll see you at three tomorrow afternoon.”

Lee grinned. “We are going to make a dynamic team, Yvonne.”

She nodded, murmured her goodbyes and walked away on autopilot.

It sounds like he’s already decided I’m going to be the new vice president.

Yvonne hurried down the corridor, entered her own office and locked the door behind her.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the desk for support.

If this happens, what does it mean for me and Ben?

Her mind reeled.

It’s only been a few days, but I know I’m already falling hard, and Ben even might be the one.

But would he wait? Would he even want to?

If I take this position, I doubt we will be able to see each other. It’s undoubtedly a conflict.

She exhaled, closing her eyes.

What the hell am I going to do?

CIA Headquarters. Langley. Virginia.

Saturday at CIA headquarters wasn’t much different than any other day. Intelligence gathering didn’t stop for the weekend. Ben Vipond leaned back in his leather chair and contemplated getting some work done while it was quiet.

Only quiet for a couple of seconds before his cell rang. “Yvonne. Are you finished at the White House?”

“I’m headed home now, Ben. We have to talk about something. Can you come now?”

“Okay. You sound upset.”

“I am. I have something crazy to tell you and I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.”

“I’m leaving now, and I’ll come straight to you. Make some coffee. I know you’re good at that. I’ll bring lunch.”

“Okay, sure.”

“I’m anxious to find out what has you so wound up, my little army soldier.”

Yvonne let out the breath she was holding.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Yvonne stood at the front window with the curtain pulled back a little so she could see the street. When the dark green car rounded the corner and came into sight, a little scream escaped from her lips.

How did I become so dependent on Ben in just a few days? This is bad. Pull yourself together, girl. Stand on your own two feet.

She opened the front door and stood on the stoop outside while Ben parked in the driveway and retrieved their lunch from the back seat.

When he began walking towards the house, she beckoned him to hurry up. Laughing, Ben broke into a jog and ran up the steps.

Yvonne pulled him into her arms, tugged him inside and kicked the door closed.

“What the hell is going on, Yvonne? You went to a meeting and what? Lee fired you?”

“Worse than that, Ben. So much worse than that. I’d welcome being fired at this moment. Truly, I’d throw up my hands and rejoice.”

“Tell me what’s worse than losing your job?” Ben pushed through to the kitchen, set the white bags on the table and took the containers out. He turned towards the cupboards and searched the drawers for cutlery. “I don’t know where anything is in your kitchen, girl.”

“Me neither. Roy organized it.”

Yvonne sat down at the table and inhaled the aroma of the food Ben had brought. “Now that I smell food, I realize how hungry I am.”

“I’m waiting to hear what this terrible thing is, Yvonne.” Ben placed an empty plate in front of her. “Spit it out and I’ll get us both a drink.”

Yvonne whispered, “Ben, you won’t believe this, but I’ve been short-listed for the vice president position.”

“Aw, Jesus, Yvonne. That’s the last thing I expected to come out of your mouth. Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Why are you so freaked out?”

“Because I’m not sure I’m qualified. What if I can’t do it, Ben?”

He sat down at the end of the table. “You can do it, babe.” Ben helped himself to steaming Thai food from three different containers. “Everybody close to the White House knows you’re the one holding Armstrong together.” Ben leaned across the table and kissed her.

“Really?”

Ben raised his hand. “Spook’s honor. Congrats, by the way. You deserve this. Now eat something.”

They filled their plates in silence, both mulling over the ramifications.

“Who’s against you on the list?”

“Umm…let me think. Lee told me who the others were, and I was so dazzled, I wasn’t listening too closely.”

“Try to remember. I’d like to assess the opposition.” Ben winked at her.

“Okay. The speaker, of course.”

“Right. Patrick Rasmid. Obviously next in line, but he’s not a shoo-in. Who else?”

“Two senior senators.”

“Names?”

“I’m drawing a blank on the senators, Ben.”

He got up and opened the fridge. “I need a beer. I wasn’t ready for this.”

“You think I was?”

Ben tossed his head back and laughed. “You definitely were not ready.” He poured drinks and Yvonne ate some lunch and calmed down a lot.

“Thank you. I was starving.”

They talked for an hour about the possibilities and about her competition. Ben cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwasher while Yvonne digested her food and their conversation.

“It’s late now to drive out of the city and go for a hike,” said Ben. “We can either stay here or go to my place. I have laundry to do, cleaning to pick up and joe-jobs to do around the house. Lots of food in my fridge for later. I could make dinner.”

“Sorry about the food situation here, Ben. I’m missing Roy so much. He did the marketing and the cooking. While he lived with me, he even planted a garden out back and grew tomatoes and cucumbers.” Yvonne took a breath and wiped a tear away.

“He your ex?”

“No, but I do love him, and I’d give anything to have him back. Roy is gay and he lived with me and took care of me until he had to move back to Texas. I’m not over him being gone yet.”

“Aw, that’s cute, Yvonne. If you ever want to talk about the baby daddy, I’m a good listener.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do that.”

“That’s okay, too. What did you decide?” Ben closed up the containers and put the leftovers in the fridge. “Are you coming to my place or staying here?”

“I’ll stay here and work on my wardrobe for the coming week. I might have to look good for meetings and I’ll be under more scrutiny than usual.” She laughed. “I’d better put some effort into it.”

“Okay, we’ll both take the rest of the day to reorganize and look good for the crowning of the new vice president. The week ahead just became a lot more interesting, didn’t it?”

Yvonne put her hand over her heart. “I hope I’m strong enough to survive it, Ben.” She walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye. “I’ve got to get it together. I can barely breathe I’m so scared.”

He held her close and whispered, “It’s going to be okay, Army. You’re a tough girl and you can do it.”

“I hope you’re right about that, Ben.”

He smiled. “I know I’m right.”

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Ben Vipond gripped the steering wheel tighter as he pulled into his garage, his mind circling the same unbearable thought.

Yvonne might be the next Vice President.

And that meant they were over before they even had a chance to begin.

He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, fingers flexing against the leather. The weight in his chest wasn’t from doubts about her political future—he was proud of her, damn it. It was more than that.

Ben shoved open the car door and grabbed the dry cleaning from the back seat, barely remembering to lock up as he stalked inside.

He tossed the suits onto the closet rack without care, then pulled a hamper from the corner. Laundry? Who gave a shit? But his hands needed something to do before he lost it.

He dumped a load into the washer, slammed the lid shut, and turned away before it even started filling.

He poured himself a drink, but when he lifted the glass to his lips, he barely tasted it. His throat was too tight. Instead, he set it down with a dull thud and turned on the TV. Football. Anything to pull him out of his head.

It didn’t work.

She has a lot to offer both Lee and America. I just hope she realizes that and gets her head in the game. She would make a great VP.

But the image of her face lingered, the way her lips had parted like she wanted to say something—like she was about to ask him to fight for this.

Why did she seem so upset?

Ben stared at the screen, but the players blurred. Then it hit him, hard enough to punch the breath from his lungs.

Of course. She’s not upset over becoming VP. She’s upset because she felt it, too.

Alabama scored, the crowd erupted, but Ben barely heard it. His heart pounded as he pressed his fingers against his temple.

I feel it.

This was real. The kind of rare, once-in-a-lifetime thing people spent their whole lives searching for.

And it might already be over.

He pushed the drink away and dropped his head into his hands.

This is so fucking unfair.

Joint Base Andrews. Maryland.

Air Force Two touched down at ten after nine.

When we first took off in Syria, I slept for about four hours, then I was awake for the next eight and couldn’t sleep again. Too fuckin long. I walked around and drank a couple of beers and thought about the kids in Texas waiting for me. I thought about Annie and how bad I was missing her, and I nearly lost my fuckin’ mind on that fuckin’ plane.

My head started throbbing at about the four-hour mark and I figured that’s what woke me up. Got steadily worse since then and I’d thrown up a couple of times in the cramped can.

Jesse kept asking me if I was okay and I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t supposed to fly. He’d be pissed at me for being stupid enough to do it anyway.

The plane came to a stop, and I wished for my headache to stop when we landed. My second wish was to be landing in Texas instead of Maryland, but I might get there tomorrow if I was lucky.

Seat belts clicked open, and the flight attendant helped Charlie off the plane and down the steps to the tarmac.

Jesse’s detail was right there to pick up the Sec and the Deputy Sec and take them home to their beds.

“Can we drop you, Tommy?” asked Jesse.

“Sure. I don’t see anybody here to pick me up.”

Jesse pointed, “There’s an SUV parking over there. Maybe you haven’t been totally abandoned after all.” He chuckled.

I looked and Ted was out of the truck waving to me. Alfie whined and tugged on his leash wanting to run to Ted. I let go and Alfie ran like a bullet dragging his leash. He charged towards Ted, jumped up and nearly knocked him over.

“I guess Alfie missed me.” Ted was still laughing when I climbed into the back seat with Alfie.

“Glad you’re home, Tommy. How was Syria?”

“Supreme shit, Ted. Like all the rest of it over there.”

“Yep. That’s why I live in my cabin on Purple Mountain. Far away from the supreme shit.”

“Copy that, Ted. Thinking of moving in with you.”

He laughed. “I’d appreciate the company.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee was watching a game when Ted and I got home from Andrews. He stood up and gave me a hug as we walked into the living room with Alfie running around whining looking for Roxy and Stretch.

“You look tired, son. Sit down and I’ll get you a beer.”

“Thanks, boss. I could use half a dozen.”

“How was Deputy Radeska when he left the airport?” asked Lee.

“His arm is in a sling, but he’s okay. He slept most of the flight home.”

“How did he get injured?” asked Lee. “I didn’t hear the details.”

I plopped down on the sofa and chugged down the first half of my beer then told Lee the Charlie story. Kind of a debrief with beer. The best kind.

“Happened when the ISIS soldiers tried to keep Jesse from getting to the palace on the top of the mountain for the meeting with the new president,”

“Al-Mahmoud,” said Lee.

“Yeah, him. ISIS blocked the road and started a fire fight with the HTS soldiers who were trying to get us there safely. The HTS guys wanted the meeting between their president and Jesse—the US—because it was good for them and for Syria.”

“I’m following you, son. Go ahead.”

“We were caught in between the two little armies and no way to go forward or back. We had to fight our way out of it, so when I got out of the SUV to get more fire power, I told Jesse and Charlie to stay in the truck and stay low.”

Lee nodded.

“Yeah, Jesse did, and Charlie didn’t. Don’t know why, but Charlie got out of the SUV and bingo—he gets himself shot.” I shrugged.

“Why would he do that?” asked Ted.

“No clue. He ain’t a good listener, boss. Damned good talker, though. That guy could talk your ear off.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the deputy secretary,” said Lee, “but perhaps he’s better suited for his office at the Truman Building than in the field.”

“Second that, boss. You called it.”

“I do have some news that will cheer you up, Tommy.”

“Go for it, boss.” I chugged the rest of my first beer and walked over to the bar fridge for another.

“Yvonne is on the short list to replace Nate Walsh.”

“No shit?”

“None.”

“Huh. You think she’s right for the job, boss?”

“Absolutely. She’s used to working with me every day and with all of her NSA experience she has her finger on the pulse of the nation.”

“She’s smart and a hard worker. Who has to vote?”

“I have to nominate the person I think is best for the job, then that person has to receive a majority vote from congress and the senate.”

“When you tell them your pick, would they vote against you, boss?”

Lee smiled. “They could, but I’m not sure they would do it.”

“If Vonnie gets voted in, does she get our nice house with the pool and the jogging path?”

“She does.”

“Jeeze, boss, I loved living there. I might move in with her.”

“Me too,” said Lee. “I loved that house and all the property around it.”

“Better for the dogs too.”

“Definitely better for the dogs,” said Lee. “Roxy loves to run free.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sunday, January 5th.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

“I’m going to try to get a flight home to Texas today, boss. I need to get home to see the kids.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go yet, son.”

“You have something for me, boss? You never mentioned anything coming up.”

“Not yet, but soon.”

“I need to go home even just for a day or two. I can be back in three hours if there’s something you need done in a hurry.”

Lee nodded. “You’re right. Go home today. You’ll want to be back for Yvonne’s swearing in, won’t you?”

“Sure will. Y’all having a big party for her afterwards downstairs?”

“Definitely.” Lee grinned. “We’ll throw her a huge party in the East Room. That room will hold a big crowd. Do you think Annie will come? She and Yvonne aren’t the best of friends.”

“I’ll make sure I bring her with me, boss.”

She should be my plus-one. She’s my wife.

Pissed that Lee was still hanging onto hopes of a relationship with Annie, I took a coffee to my room and called the airline. I needed breathing room to get rid of my headache, and I couldn’t get it in D.C. Had to get home before I did something I might regret.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Yvonne woke early wishing she’d gone home with Ben and woken up next to him.

She looked in the mirror of her ensuite, brushed her hair—she had severe bedhead—and followed her morning routine. She needed a routine right now to keep her mind calm.

If they pick me to fill in for Walsh, Ben might be out of my life for good. He wouldn’t risk seeing me. That would be a career ender for him—maybe for both of us.

“I need to talk to Roy. If this does happen, I can’t do it without Roy. I’ll have to move to the official residence at the Naval Observatory and I’ll be in that huge house all alone.”

I’m getting too excited too soon – they won’t pick me so why am I worrying?

Yvonne padded downstairs in her silk nightie and started a pot of coffee. “Today is the day I have to pull my life together and act like an adult—an adult with enough credibility to support the president of the United States.

That’s what I do anyway, but not officially.

As soon as the coffee was ready, Yvonne poured herself a cup, sat down at the kitchen table and called Roy.

“Good morning, Yvonne. Bright and sunny here in Texas and I wish you were here to enjoy the day with me.”

“Believe it or not, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now. It’s funny you say that you want me there because I was going to talk to you about the same thing but reverse.”

“We tried that, honey, remember? Chet would probably kill us both before that ever happened again.”

A conspiratorial tone crept into Vonnie’s voice. “I think it would depend on the circumstances.”

Silence. “Okay, girl. I know something’s going on, but I can’t figure out what. Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess? Is it a new man? You so deserve that.”

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I have gone out a couple of times with someone I really like. I suppose that’s part of it, but there’s something bigger.”

“Spill it, girl. I’m ready.”

“I don’t think you are, but I’ll tell you anyway. Buckle up, honey bunny, because this is top secret.”

Yvonne paused.

“Jesus, Vonnie. Just say it. You’re killing me.”

“I’ve been short-listed to be the new vice president.”

“Sweet baby Jesus. Are you fucking with me?”

Yvonne giggled. Now that she had told Roy, it made it more real somehow. “Not even a little.”

“I can’t believe it. I mean, I do believe it, but that’s amazing news. You deserve it, of course. You’re practically doing the job now, especially with the way you follow Lee around and prop him up. Might as well have the title for it, am I right?”

“Too right.”

“Can I tell Chet?”

“I’m not sure he’ll care.”

“Stop it. He’ll care. Trust me.”

“Then tell him because I want you both at my swearing-in ceremony.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, honey. And I’ll have a chat with Mister Fussy Pants. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”

“I have one more request, Roy, and it’s a big one.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“This is asking a lot, but if I win, then I’ll have to move into the VP’s official residence, and I would love for you to live with me. I know if I’m going to succeed at this, I need you by my side.”

“Wow. That’s a big ask, Vonnie. I’ll mull it over today. I’ll have to discuss it with Chet as well. He was devastated the last time I came to live with you, and I don’t want him crumbling again.”

“That was his idea.”

Roy chuckled. “Oh honey, you know that doesn’t mean a thing. As brilliant as he is, he’s his own worst enemy.”

“Don’t I know it. I should point out that I’m not a shoo-in. There are four of us on the shortlist, and the other three are men. And we both know how these situations usually turn out if you’re not a white heterosexual male.”

“Preach, sister. Inequality at its finest. It’s ludicrous to believe someone could accomplish more than another based solely on their reproductive organs or who they love.”

“Fingers crossed I beat the odds. You have a lot to consider, Roy. If it happens, you will only have to commit for three years. That would be the end of my term.”

Roy squealed. “This is insanely exciting. My friend, the VP of America. When is this happening?”

“The process starts Monday. Some interviews and hard questions, then the ceremony. That’s why I’m telling you right away. I want you two here, and I hope that if Chet has enough time to mull it over, we can avoid one of his nuclear meltdowns.”

“I’m all for that. I’ve been an eye-witness to those tirades. Leave it to me. I’ll call you later.”

Yvonne hung up the phone and sat silently at her table.

I can barely believe this is really happening.

Old West Austin. Texas.

Roy sighed when the call to Yvonne ended. He and Chet had barely settled into their old routine after the last horrific trip to Washington, and Yvonne was asking Roy to move to D.C. again if she became vice president.

I’d do it in a second if it weren’t for Chet and what my leaving again would do to him.

Roy was a sensitive soul and knew that for all of his blustering, Chet loved him and might go over the edge if he left again.

He also knew that spoon-feeding Chet to soften the blow never helped. He was more of a ‘tear the Band-Aid off’ kind of guy.

I’ll only tell him about the possibility and let him get used to the idea.

Chet glanced up when Roy strode into the office and sat down in the only guest chair. “What? You’ve got that look on your face. Did Punkin shit on something important of mine?”

“What look? I don’t have a look.”

“The one where you’re gonna say something so fuckin’ horrible, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You’re right, Chet, and here it is. No waiting. Yvonne’s been short-listed to replace Nathan Walsh.”

“Holy fuck. Good for her.” Chet hammered his fist into his desk and sent pens flying. “Does that mean we have to go to the swearing in?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I know that you want to, and I’ll look like a self-absorbed dick if I don’t go with you.”

“You’ve never worried before about what other people think of you, Chet. Why start now?”

“Shut up, Roy.”

“I won’t drag you anywhere you don’t want to go. I promise. Besides, they haven’t voted yet. It may take all week to get it done, and she may not win.”

Chet scoffed. “We both know she’ll win. She’s brilliant and fantastic. They’re blind fucking idiots if they don’t see how perfect she is for the job.”

“Well, you have some time to think about if you want to come. I’m going, for sure.”

Chet sucked in oxygen. “Okay, a few days to get used to the idea, then what?”

Roy shrugged. “Nothing.”

“I’m calling bullshit on nothing, Roy. What comes next? You have to go to D.C. and take care of the new VP? That’s what she wants, isn’t it? Tell me she didn’t already ask you.”

“She did ask me.”

“Jeeze, I knew it. I’ll never be free of her. It was a fuckin’ conspiracy intended to ruin my life from the first day she set foot on Texas soil.”

“She’s not doing this purposely, Chet.”

“Fuckin’ right, she is. Steal my heat. Steal my best friend. She never gives up.”

“I guess that’s why she’ll be a great VP.”

“Fuck off, Roy.”

Austin-Bergstrom Airport. Texas.

Alfie hopped in the back of Lukas’ big-ass pickup while I tossed our gear in the load bed. Once we cleared the airport, he talked more than usual, asking questions about Syria and what it was like over there.

“We never made it out of the capital. Damascus. Seemed a touch more civilized than Iran. Other than the ambush by ISIS soldiers.”

“You got ambushed?”

“Yeah, but the HTS soldiers backed us, and we slaughtered them. The DSS dudes were solid, and we had four Marines as well. Alfie even bit some fucker.”

“Atta boy, Alfie. Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Alfie wagged his tail.

“I thought about you being over there and I kind of missed being with you, bro. I missed it.”

“Missed what exactly?”

“The insane action. The tension. I’m into it now and when I’m back on the Night Vipers it ain’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“No? If you’d be happier with me, I can talk to Blacky for you. Only if you want to make the change.”

“I’ll think on it a bit more, but I might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie.” He laughed.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

Me and Lukas walked in the front door with my luggage and set it down in the foyer. Alfie ran ahead of us and the kids screamed wildly, they were so happy to see the dog.

“Hey, Daddy is here too. Don’t I get any hugs?”

“We’re hugging Alfie, Daddy,” said Simka.

“Can I be next?”

Lukas laughed. “Get in line, bro.” To the kids: “Hey, I want hugs too.”

Linc ran over and Lukas scooped him up. “Wow, you’re a load and a half. How much do you weigh now, Chief?”

Linc laughed. “Don’t know. How much, Daddy?”

“Oh, about forty pounds, more or less.”

Simka ran to me, and I picked her up. “This little girl doesn’t weigh forty pounds. She needs to eat more.”

Lukas stayed for a couple of beers, then he headed home to do laundry and help Aunt Gail with stuff he promised to do around the house.

I was surprised he was thinking of giving up the Night Vipers and coming to work with me.

After catching up with Ellis, I went into my private office, closed the door and called Annie. “Hey, babe. I’m home.”

“I think I hold my breath the whole time you’re away. I’m so glad you’re back, sweetheart. How did Jesse make out in Syria?”

“He did well. Got along good with the new president and they made progress. ISIS soldiers were in the city, and they didn’t want Jesse and the leader of HTS hooking up, but we made it happen, got ‘er done and got out of there.”

“Can you come to Boots later?”

“I plan to. Got calls to make and I might sleep for an hour before I come. I missed you.”

“Same. I’ll show you how much.”

“Good copy.”

Feeling good about seeing Annie later, I called Kamps to check in and see if he knew about Yvonne. She might’ve called and told Roy already. They were tight.

“Kamps.”

“Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

“Fuckin’ awesome.”

He knows about Yvonne.

“Talk to me.”

“Not much going on. Just got the one thing I’m having trouble with and of course it has to do with Major Yvonne fuckin’ Harrison. It’s like my entire life revolves around her and her life and I’ll never get free of her.”

“What’s the problem?”

“You heard about the short list?”

“Yeah, Lee told me.”

“He wants her as his VP, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Fuck, I figured as much. Then it’s a done deal. The guys who have to vote don’t have much of a choice, do they?”

“I asked if they would vote against his choice.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I wanted to know.”

“What was the answer?”

“He said they could, but he didn’t think they would.”

“Same thing I told myself.”

“Are you planning on going to the swearing in?”

“Don’t want to, but Roy is going, and he wants me to go with him.”

“You don’t have to go. You can stay in Texas and avoid the whole thing. Might be best for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but it’s a hard decision to make.”

“Y’all can fly back with me when we get the word. Time and place and shit like that.”

“Thanks. I might need a few beers to get me to D.C.”

“I always do.”

“You must be used to that flight by now.”

“Kind of feels familiar. A couple of the flight girls even know me. Let me know if you hear anything before I do. Roy might find out first. He and Yvonne are besties.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. She already asked him to move into the VP residence with her if she gets the job.”

“It’s a great place to live, but what the fuck? Is she trying to screw you over?”

“That’s what I said, but Roy thinks I’m crazy.”

“I’m sure Roy doesn’t let Vonnie talk shit about you, either.”

“You’re right. He’s good to me in that way. It just sucks that she has her claws in him, too.”

I laughed, but I felt sorry for him too.

Boots & Saddles Roadhouse. Giddings.

It felt like I had finally come home when I walked through the doors at Boots. Great music was playing, the smells of beer and bodies hung in the air, and from behind the long cowboy bar, Annie flashed me that fantastic smile.

Life is good again.

I grabbed my usual stool and waited until she came to talk. She set a pitcher of Shiners down with a frosted glass. She smelled fantastic and looked like a million bucks. I wanted to lean across the bar and kiss her, but there were too many customers.

Maybe later.

She came back with salsa and chips, and as I dug into them, I asked her how things were going with Farrell.

Annie sighed, her sadness on display in her gray eyes. “We barely speak. He said so many hurtful things, and I doubt if things will ever be the same.”

“It is hurtful, babe, and you definitely don’t deserve anymore bullshit from Farrell or Blacky. They gave their opinions, tore us apart and wrecked our lives and now they regret it. They said as much.”

“We’ll talk more in my office when I get my break, sugar.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some Washington shit to lay on you too.” I laughed.

“Is it funny?”

“You won’t think so.”

“Jeeze, now I want my break so I can find out.”

When Tina came to give Annie her break, we crossed the dance floor and locked ourselves in her office. Not much time to ourselves, so we made the most of it.

While Annie straightened her clothes and brushed her hair, I told her about the Yvonne development and Lee’s invitation.

“I’m not sure she has the goods, sugar. You know her better than I do. What’s your opinion?”

I shrugged. “She’d be okay if she had Kamps with her. That’s for damned sure. He’s got the brains for it but there might not be a snowball’s chance of that happening.”

“Hmm…I’ll have to think about it, and if you’re talking to Lee, tell him I’m pondering his invitation as well.”

“While you’re thinking about that, think about this…”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Monday, January 6th.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Yvonne’s brown eyes popped open before her alarm went off and that rarely happened unless she wasn’t sleeping alone. Her first thought was Ben, and she texted him.

“This will be a nerve-wracking day for me. You mind if I text you when the pressure is on? It will feel like I’ve got some support.”

“Sure. Let me know what’s going on throughout the day. I’ll be thinking about you.”

She wanted to text I love you, Ben, but she wasn’t sure she was in love with him. It was something. Maybe lust with a side of love. She couldn’t say it yet, but it was right on the tip of her tongue.

Besides, he hadn’t said it either.

A quick shower and then it was time to start the coffee and wonder what she should be wearing. Today called for the perfect outfit. Businesslike and powerful. Definitely not drab and mousey.

I don’t want to blend in with the woodwork.

Yvonne chose her charcoal gray Armani suit. Clean, feminine lines on the blazer and the pants hung perfectly off her hips. Her silk blouse—silver, a shade or two lighter—would pop underneath, and her black leather Jimmy Choos completed the ensemble.

She kept the jewelry to a minimum, adding sparkle without overpowering the look.

Men never had to try this hard. They probably wore week-old underwear.

In front of the vanity mirror, she labored over her makeup and her hair until both were perfect. A spray of the new perfume she bought especially for Ben, and she was as ready as she could possibly be.

On the way downstairs, Yvonne thought about the two sides to this coin.

If I’m confirmed, I become one of the most powerful women in the world, but I might lose Ben. If they don’t choose me, I will remain Lee’s advisor and I’ll be able to keep Ben in my life.

She grabbed her coat and locked up, ready to meet her new protection detail.

One of the perks of being a candidate for high office.

She liked perks.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

“Is today Yvonne’s big day, Lee?”

“We need to fill the vacancy, Ted, and I put it on my agenda for this week. Might as well get right to it. I’ll call Levalley and have him convene a cabinet meeting for this morning. That’s step one.”

“Will Yvonne be present at the meeting?”

“She will not. The cabinet members give their candid opinions on the candidates. I listen and then present them with my choice, along with supporting arguments. They have the opportunity to rebut, and I reply until we reach a consensus.”

Ted laughed. “Sounds tedious. I’m glad it’s you and not me. That said, I hope it goes well for you.”

“Me too.” Lee hesitated a moment before continuing. “Ted, I just want to tell you that I consider myself lucky to have you here. You’ve been the sounding board I never had and just having you here to discuss the everyday stuff has meant a lot.”

“Happy to help. I’ve made no bones about how much I hate politics. Hell, it’s why I moved to Purple Mountain. But when I see you struggling, day after day, trying your best to deal with its downright brutality every day, I feel I should help if I can.”

“I’m lucky to have you for my brother, Ted.”

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

I woke up tired from staying late at Boots with Annie, but it was totally worth it to have some alone time with her. My heart ached for her when we’re not together.

With Syria done, I wanted to stay home for a while, but I knew Granddad, Blacky and Ben had things they wanted me to clean up for them.

Before I took another mission, I needed to talk to Blacky. I promised Lukas I’d talk to Blacky about me and Lukas being a team on the next op. It was important to my brother, so I had to get it done.

Before the kids were up, I went to the barn and fed Durango. I still hadn’t gotten around to buying the sheep for the kids, but I’d do that while I was home.

Ellis had been feeding Durango for me while I was away, and it would be more work for her if we had two sheep, but Durango could use the warmth in the barn over the winter. Had to think on it and talk it over with Ellis one more time.

Maybe it was time to hire a hand to help her out.

Look at me, thinking I’m somethin’ and needing a ranch hand for one fuckin’ horse and a few sheep.

She hadn’t been saying much about Farrell, so I didn’t know if that was on or off and didn’t want to upset her by asking. She’d tell me when she was ready.

Before I headed back up to the house for breakfast, me and Alfie cleaned my Eagle and wrote a list of guns, ammo and other stuff we needed, just in case. One of the alphabet departments would pay for it.

After breakfast, I asked the kids if they wanted to go for a truck ride. “Want to go with Daddy to see Forest and Noel, and then over to see Uncle Roy?”

Dumb question. Of course they did. Roy spoiled them and gave them cookies. Linc had toast crumbs all over his face, but that didn’t slow him down. He dashed to the closet to get his boots on. “Boots, Daddy.”

“Yep. You gotta wear boots, a coat and a hat. So does Simka. It’s cold outside.”

Ellis got them ready, and I asked if she wanted to come or stay and have some free time. She opted for a few hours off, and I couldn’t blame her. She did more than her share when I was away.

The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

While Simka and Lincoln played with Forest and Noel in Blacky’s family room, I debriefed in his office. He made a few notes and wrote down a couple of questions he wanted to ask Jesse when he got a chance, and we were done.

I gave the boss my list of supplies I wanted someone else to pay for before my next op. Scrambling for gear on the fly really sucked. If I could bring it with me, I would.

“Anything else, Tommy?”

“Now that that’s done, boss, I have something to ask you or tell you. All the same.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Lukas told me he’s missing working with me like we did in Iran on the last op and he’s considering leaving the Night Vipers and being my backup on the next op that comes up. Of course, you have to approve that, or he’ll be forced to quit—one of the two.”

Blacky raised an eyebrow. “If I vetoed the idea do you think he would quit his job and go with you anyway?”

“Sounded to me like he intended to do just that. Want to talk to him?”

Blacky rubbed his hand along his jawline, which meant he was thinking hard on somethin’. “I have noticed recently that Lukas is even less talkative than usual, which is saying something. I had been meaning to talk to him about it, but you might have just answered my questions.”

He sat silent again for several minutes, just staring out the window.

“If I was to say no, I’m afraid I might lose him. From a business standpoint, we’ve invested a small fortune in training your brother, and I would consider his departure a huge business loss. From a personal standpoint, your brother’s like family, and I never want to screw over family.”

Blacky was talking himself into something. His big brain was going a mile a second. I just had to hang on for the big finish.

“Providing you with backup was never in our operational plans, but you’ve proven its necessity. I keep thinking back to Afghanistan. If Lukas hadn’t disobeyed my bullshit orders, you might have been dead. If I had sent him in the first place, you might have avoided a fractured skull entirely.”

“There were too many times in that country where I was alone and thought I was a goner. Figured some bone digger would find my skeleton a hundred years from now, poking and prodding, wondering if I was a hunter or a gatherer.”

Blacky chuckled.

“If Alfie could hold a gun, I’d probably be okay alone. But he can’t, so I need someone to watch my back.”

Blacky grinned and nodded. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll speak to Lukas when he checks in tonight.”

“Thanks, boss.”

I gathered up Simka and Linc and we helped Misty put the toys away. “Thanks for watching them, Misty. They don’t get to play with other kids much.”

She smiled. “Noel and Forest are always excited to have playmates, Tommy. It’s no bother.”

I put their coats and boots on, and we moved on to see Kamps and Roy.

Old West Austin.

The kids took turns rapping their little knuckles against the door and hollering for Uncle Roy and Uncle Chet, laughing hysterically in between turns. It was one of the most entertaining things I saw all day.

Roy was beaming when he answered the door. He loved the kids as much as they loved him. Kamps was just inside the door, but although he was smiling, it didn’t transfer to his eyes.

I figured Kamps was beside himself worrying about the VP nomination. He was a worrier.

Once we got inside and the kids were holding Roy’s hands on the way to the kitchen—it was cookie time somewhere—Kamps whispered to Roy about calling Vonnie again.

Roy stopped in his tracks and twisted to face Kamps.

I’d never seen Roy mad, so today was a first.

“Chester Milton Kamps, you need to slow your roll. I will cater to your neurotic needs once I take care of our sweet little guests. Now, grab yourself and Tommy some beers and wait like a gentleman.”

As if on cue, Simka’s little voice broke the tension. “Slow yo row.”

We couldn’t help but laugh.

Kamps got us some beers, and we sat in the living room, waiting for Roy. After five minutes, Roy and his mini followers joined us, complete with a plate of fresh cookies and sippy cups. They sat on the kid-sized foam couch Roy bought for the kids, then he pulled out his phone.

He gave Kamps a look, who looked away.

Roy selected ‘speaker phone’ and set the phone between the three of us.

“Hi, Roy. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s grand, honey. I’m here with Kamps, Tommy and the kids. We just wanted to wish you luck and see if you had any updates.”

Vonnie chuckled. “I can hear Simka chatting away in the background. So cute. Thanks everyone for the well wishes. Not much to tell yet. There’s a cabinet meeting today. They’ll discuss all the candidates behind closed doors. I’m assuming Lee will break protocol and let me know how I fared. Then, it moves to the Cap, where both houses vote on it. I’m sure there are more steps, but those are the basics.”

“That’s good to know. I’m sure you’re a shoo-in.”

She chuckled again. “Don’t jinx it, Roy. I don’t even know if I’ll get any votes. Oh, Roy, I think I have to go. I can hear someone calling me.”

“Okay, Vonnie. We’ll let you go. Call later if you can. Chet is a mess and wants regular updates.”

“I’ll call once I know something. I promise. And Chet—I appreciate you caring.”

She disconnected before Kamps could say anything.

“Why are you so freaked about this?” Roy jumped up, seeing that this might blow up. “Hey, kids. Who wants to see the backyard?”

The kids screamed yes, and Uncle Roy was only too happy to comply.

Gave me time to talk openly with Kamps.

“I feel like my world is falling apart again, and I just put it back together. She’s doing it again, Tommy. She’s destroying my life.”

“By becoming the VP?”

“By trying to take Roy away from me again.”

“You could live there too. That house has thirty-three rooms.”

Kamps frowned. “I wasn’t invited to live there. Only Roy.”

I shrugged. “Tell her it’s a package deal. You both come, or nobody comes. Simple as that.”

Kamps lowered his voice and stared at me. “Funny guy. Nothing is ever that simple.”

“Could be. Face it, Kamps. You could help her a lot, and she’s gonna need support from people she trusts. If you break it down, you’re the best man for the job.”

Kamps scoffed. “She can get support from whoever she’s sleeping with,” said Kamps, “and that ain’t me.”

“Huh. Lee thinks she’s fooling around with Ben Vipond.”

“Fuck, Tommy. Lee tell you that?”

“He did and he asked me what I thought about it.”

“You think it’s possible she’s screwing around with the head of the fuckin’ CIA?”

“Anything is possible, bro.”

“What is Armstrong basing his assumption on? Does he have anything solid or is he only guessing?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. This is what I know for sure: I played the Cottonwood Club on New Year’s Eve and when we got out of there around three in the morning, Ben Vipond gave Yvonne a ride home. She was drunk.”

“They were both there with you?”

“I took Ted and Yvonne and Vipond came later. At that point, they weren’t together. I would’ve known.”

“But later you saw her get in his car with your own eyes?” asked Kamps.

“Yep. These blue ones. Yvonne was really drunk when Ben helped her into his Mercedes.”

“Maybe he took her straight home,” said Kamps.

“I have no idea what happened after they left the club.”

“Huh. Did Armstrong quiz her on it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Shit,” said Kamps. “She’s driving me nuts.”

I looked Kamps straight in the eyes. “Brother, that’s called love. Now, you just gotta figure out the best way to love her without pissing her off.”

Kamps chugged his beer and hung his head. “Love fuckin’ sucks, Tommy.”

“Amen to that, bro.”

CIA Headquarters. Langley. Virginia.

Sitting at his desk at headquarters, Ben was preoccupied waiting to hear from Yvonne and he wasn’t focusing well on his work or returning any of the fifteen phone messages he had in front of him.

His cell signaled a text, and he grabbed for it.

“I’m in my office waiting for the cabinet meeting to be over. So far this day is all about waiting and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Me too. I’ve been waiting for your text. We can’t see each other until it’s been confirmed that you are not getting the VP job.”

“Not seeing you is what is upsetting me the most.”

“I’m damned upset about it too. Text me when you know anything.”

“I will.”

Ben pushed back in his chair feeling like he’d been through an all-night session of wash boarding at the farm.

Love sucks.

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Yvonne’s cell rang in her hand, and she jumped and let out a little squeal.

Two rings.

Her pulse hammered in her head as she stared at the screen. The White House. She felt dizzy.

Three rings.

She sucked in a shaky breath and answered. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you come into my office, Yvonne?”

“Of course, I’ll be right over.” She ran down the corridor, through the outer office giving Bethany a wave before entering the Oval Office.

Lee pointed to the chair next to his desk. “Sit down, Yvonne. It’s not the end of the world. Why do you look so terrified?”

She laughed nervously. “I’m not sure why I’m so scared, but I’m pretty shaky all the same.”

“It is a little daunting, I’ll give you that. I was the same way at my inauguration. Calm down and listen.”

She tried, but her chest was tight, her thoughts spinning.

What if I hyperventilate? What if I get this job? What if I lose Ben?

“I’m listening.” She giggled. “I think I am.”

“The cabinet meeting is over, and the nomination had gone to the senate and the house. They will take a vote, and we’ll know later in the day.”

“Later in the day,” Yvonne repeated and clasped her hands together. “They didn’t prefer one of the other candidates on the list?”

Lee nodded, his expression unreadable. “It was a tough decision because all of our candidates brought something different to the table. Each one would have a different impact on the administration.”

“Are you allowed to tell me how it went?”

“Officially, no, but I’ve trusted you with bigger secrets than this, so I’m sure my confidence in you won’t be squandered. They looked hard at Senator John Hoffman from Florida. His legislative record is solid, and he’s got a deep donor base.”

Yvonne swallowed hard, nodding. That would make sense. A seasoned politician, not an Army major. Maybe this was it—the moment they’d tell her it was close, but they’d gone with someone more experienced.

“They also weighed the idea of a bipartisan ticket,” Lee continued, “which put Republican Governor Dana Calderon in the mix.”

Yvonne’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. She could still walk out of here free. Free to love Ben, free to build something real with him.

“But in the end,” Lee said, his tone final, “they settled on you.”

Her breath hitched. She blinked, unable to process the words.

“That’s it, Yvonne. All in and all done.” Lee smiled. “I’m sure the vote will be in your favor, and you’ll be the next vice president.”

Yvonne teared up. “I’m not going to cry. I promised myself I wouldn’t.”

Too late.

This was too much. The weight of history, of duty, of what this meant for her life—for Ben’s life—crashed over her.

How do I tell him this is real? That it’s over before it began?

Lee stood up, walked around the desk and hugged her. “You’ll be a fantastic vice president, Yvonne. You’ve got everything it takes.”

“I wish I was as confident as you are, Lee.”

“We’re a team now, Yvonne. You and me against the world, and I mean that in a literal sense.”

“That is so apropos, sir.”

I wish Roy was here.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Yvonne’s day at the White House had been a blur. She couldn’t remember the meetings she attended or the conversation. All she remembered was the unbearable burden of waiting.

Waiting for the vote. Waiting for the inevitable.

The walls of her Georgetown apartment felt too small, and her home was too quiet. She couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stare at the clock any longer.

The rain poured, adding to her stress as she drove through the dark streets to Foggy Bottom. She gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles ached.

She shouldn’t go there, but her heart wouldn’t let her be anywhere else.

She rang Ben’s doorbell and heard his footsteps inside. He opened the door, and the look in his eyes—God, that look—made her throat tighten.

“You shouldn’t be here, babe,” he said, voice low, rough as he scanned the rain-soaked streets. “What if the press is watching? They know a new VP is in the works. That’s huge news.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t care,” she whispered, soaked.

Ben sighed, rubbing his jaw. “I don’t want you to be here—for your own good.” His fingers twitched as if he were fighting the urge to pull her closer. “And yet… I absolutely do.”

Then, as if giving in to gravity, he yanked her inside and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Neither of them spoke. They just stood there, breathing the same air, knowing precisely what this was. What it had to be.

When he kissed her, it was desperate, rough—like he needed to memorize her taste, her shape, every inch of her before she was gone. She tangled her hands in his hair, pressing her body against his, needing to be closer, needing to forget, even if just for tonight.

They made love like it was both a rebellion and a surrender. It felt forbidden, but it also felt like home. They didn’t say anything after. They just lay tangled in the sheets, bodies pressed close, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but the sound of her phone jolted her awake.

Ben groaned, voice thick with sleep. “Answer your phone, babe. It’s probably Armstrong.”

She sat up, the air cool against her skin as she reached for her cell on the nightstand. The screen glowed with a name she had no choice but to respond to. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Good evening, Mister President.”

Lee’s voice was warm and congratulatory. “Wonderful news, Yvonne. Just as I predicted. Congratulations are in order.”

Her stomach dropped. Her mouth went dry. This was it. “Thank you, sir,” she croaked. That’s excellent news.”

“You’ll be sworn in at two p.m. on Wednesday afternoon. It can’t be tomorrow because the staff needs time to make preparations for the reception and the White House has to print and deliver the invitations.”

“I don’t know what to say, Lee. I’m overwhelmed at the moment.”

Overwhelmed and underdressed.

Her chest constricted. “Yes, sir. Thank you very much for your confidence. I won’t let you down, sir. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The call ended. The silence left in its wake was unbearable.

She slowly set the phone down and pushed back the blanket that still smelled like him. The warmth of his body, the imprint of him, was still there. But soon, it would be gone. She would be gone.

Ben sat on the side of the bed, naked, his shoulders tense. He lit a cigarette with a flick of his lighter, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before speaking.

“That’s it for us, then.” His voice was calm, but his grip on the cigarette was just a little too tight.

She turned to him, her throat closing. “Ben⁠—”

“Makes me sad to say the words,” he continued, eyes on the smoke curling from the cigarette, not on her. “But that’s the way it has to be.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly. “I don’t want it to be.”

Ben finally looked at her, and there was nothing casual in his expression. No easy charm, no bravado. Just raw, aching love.

“I’m so sorry it’s ending like this,” he said, voice rough. “Because I am so in love with you.”

That was it. That was what shattered her. She let out a choked sob and pressed a hand to her mouth, but it was useless. The tears came anyway.

Ben crushed out the cigarette and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, rocking her slightly, like he could soothe away the impossible.

“It might work out for us in the future, babe,” he murmured against her hair. “The stars aren’t aligned for us right now.”

She clung to him, squeezing her eyes shut. “I know you’re right,” she whispered. “But it hurts.”

His voice cracked. “Love hurts, Army.”

She pulled back, just enough to see his face. His eyes were shining, too.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown.

When Yvonne got back to her townhome, she locked the door, set the alarm, and leaned against it, her forehead pressing hard against the wood. Her pulse was erratic, her chest too tight, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Just breathe. Just breathe.

But she couldn’t. The walls felt like they were closing in. The silence was suffocating.

Her fingers fumbled as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She hesitated, staring at Roy’s name, her thumb hovering over the call button. She could handle this alone. She had to.

Except… she couldn’t.

She pressed the button. The phone rang twice before his familiar, steady voice filled the line.

“Have you heard something, Yvonne?”

She tried to respond, but her throat felt like sandpaper. She cleared it, gripping the phone so tightly her hand ached. Steady. Stay steady.

“Yes,” she managed, her voice thin. “Come tomorrow. You can stay here. The swearing-in is Wednesday at two p.m.”

Roy didn’t hesitate. “Congratulations. You deserve this. It’s going to be all right, Yvonne. I can tell by your voice how frightened you are. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange the flight tonight.”

She closed her eyes, pressing her fingers against them as if she could push the emotion back inside. “Is Chet coming?”

“He wants to, but you know Chet.”

She swallowed hard. Stay in control. Don’t let him hear it.

“Tell him he’s welcome to stay here. He doesn’t need a hotel.” Her voice wavered. “Tell him I need my friends with me.”

There was silence on the other end. Yvonne’s stomach twisted. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep her breathing even. But it wasn’t working. Her body knew before her mind would admit it—she was about to break.

“Roy,” she whispered. “I need both of you.”

The sob came out before she could stop it, raw and painful. Her shoulders shook as she pressed her hand to her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the sound.

Roy sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, baby girl,” he said, his voice thick. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Yvonne curled into herself, holding the phone with both hands like a lifeline. She hadn’t let herself cry like this in weeks. Not since⁠—

“I know what this is,” Roy said softly. “This is just like after you lost the baby.”

Her breath hitched. “Roy⁠—”

“No, listen to me.” His voice cracked. “You thought you wouldn’t survive that either. But you did.”

She clenched her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think about it. About the unbearable weight of that grief, about the nights she lay awake, wondering if she would ever feel whole again.

“You fought your way through that darkness, Yvonne,” Roy continued, his words desperate, pleading. “And you’ll fight through this, too. Because that’s who you are. You don’t quit. You don’t back down.”

She sucked in a ragged breath, but it wasn’t enough to hold back the storm inside her.

“It’s not the same,” she choked out. “This is different, Roy. I feel like I’m losing everything. My life, my choices—” She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. “Ben.”

Roy exhaled shakily. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice broke. “And I fucking hate this for you.”

That did it. That shattered what little control she had left. She curled forward, crying into the phone, her sobs coming harder, faster, until she couldn’t speak at all.

Roy just stayed with her, breathing through it, his own breath unsteady.

“I wish I could take this pain from you,” he murmured. “I swear to God, I would if I could.”

She white-knuckled the phone, like Roy was right there holding her.

“I’m scared,” she finally whispered. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t have to know,” Roy said. “You just have to get through tomorrow. And then the next day. And the next. And we’ll be there. Every step.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay.” Her voice was barely there. “Just get here, Roy.”

“We will, baby girl. We will.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tuesday, January 7th.

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

We had just finished breakfast when Lee called. Ellis shooed me away as she finished the last of the dishes.

I dashed into my office and closed the door. Never knew what Lee might want to talk about, so it was better to be on the safe side.

“Mornin’, boss. What’s goin’ on in D.C.?”

“Morning, Tommy. I hope I didn’t disturb breakfast. Just thought you’d like to know that Yvonne has been ratified by the House and the Senate. Her swearing-in ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow at two. Can you make it?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, boss.”

Lee struggled, then blurted out what he was dying to ask. “Did you mention it to Annie?”

“I did. We’re all flying together on the Powell Corp Jet.”

“Wonderful. Did she mention if she’s staying here, at the Residence?”

“She’s staying at her townhouse, boss. Sorry.”

“Isn’t that where Secretary Quantrall is staying?”

“Yep. You know they were married, right? I’m sure they could be roomies for a day or two without killin’ each other, especially seeing as it’s Annie’s place.”

“I think I knew that. Well, I hope that you’re staying here.”

“You bet. Lukas might tag along, too. Hope that won’t be a hassle.”

“Lukas is more than welcome, son. Family doesn’t stay at hotels when we have so many rooms here. Besides, Ted will be thrilled to have more company when I’m not around.”

“Done deal, then. I’ll text you our arrival time, boss. No idea when it will be yet.”

“Thanks, Tommy. I really want this to be a celebration where Yvonne is surrounded by everyone wishing her the very best.”

“I think everyone’s happy for her, boss. She deserves it.”

“Can’t agree with you more, son. Yvonne is my right arm.”

I ended the call with Lee and texted Lukas.

“Going to D.C. for Yvonne’s swearing in. We’re all going on Annie’s jet. You coming?”

“Count me in.”

No hesitation. He’d already thought about this.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re partners. I go where you go. Besides, you always end up in trouble when you’re in D.C. You’ll need me. You’re like a fuckin’ magnet.”

I laughed out loud.

“Fair enough.”

“What’re you taking?”

“Suit, nice boots.”

“Guns, too?”

“Going forward, your guns are part of you. Never leave home without ‘em.

“Good copy. Text me the where and when.”

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Yvonne was as nervous as a cat on a bed of nails. She spent too much time in her closet picking out an outfit for the day ahead and considering what she would wear to the swearing-in ceremony.

“There will be a photographer there and I can’t look like a schlump. I’ll make a hair appointment for tomorrow morning.”

She flopped down on the bed and texted Ben.

“Are you coming to the swearing in?”

“No, I’m not invited, and I can’t barge in on that, but I am invited to the reception, and I’ll dance with you, Madam Vice President.”

Yvonne cried.

“I miss you so much already, Ben. I’m not sure I can do this without you. I feel like backing out.”

“Don’t you dare do that, Army. We’ll figure this out.”

Old West Austin.

Kamps and Roy packed for the trip and Roy had extras to pack for Punkin. He made two trips carrying his luggage downstairs and Kamps called him on it. “Why are you taking so fuckin’ much stuff, Roy?”

“Umm…because it will save me taking more later.”

Kamps felt anger rising but tamped it down to a manageable level. “I get it. You’ve already decided that you’re staying there with Yvonne and moving into the VP’s official residence.”

“I am, Chet. I cannot in good conscience turn her down. Yvonne needs me and it’s my duty to serve my country. If you were a little more patriotic, you’d move in and help her too.”

Kamps tossed his hands in the air in dramatic frustration. “I can’t move in with my ex citing patriotism as my reason, you knot head. She invited you and not me and I’m pretty sure it’s a hard no on Kamps being a permanent fixture.”

“We’ll be moving into the residence right away at One Observatory Circle, Chet. Mrs. Walsh already went back to Indiana after her hubby died and Lee wants Yvonne settled in and ready to work as soon as possible.”

Chet tapped his fist against the doorframe. “I’m so furious with you at this moment, Roy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re scared because you hate change, and you cope using anger. Once you have time to digest this, you’ll see this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for both of us.”

Chet’s fist tapping became louder. “Roy, you’re damned lucky I’m not choking the last breath out of your body right this minute.”

Roy rubbed Chet’s arm gently. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Chet. I didn’t expect you to be happy, but you need to understand that I have to answer the call. I have no choice.”

“Of course you do, Roy. You can choose to not go and stay with me.”

“I’m sorry, Chet, but this is something I have to do.”

“Fortunately for me,” said Chet, “I do have choices and I’m not answering any imaginary calls loosely labeled as patriotism. Not today, baker.”

“Try to be pleasant, Chet.”

“Shut up, Roy.”

Executive Airport. Austin. Texas.

Lukas was packed and ready to go when me and Alfie picked him up at Aunt Gail’s house. After a round of hugs and kisses with Aunt Gail, we were off to the airport.

I couldn’t stop glancing at him. “Dude, did you get a haircut?”

“Got ‘em all cut, smartass. You didn’t?”

I shook my hair around a bit and smiled. “Don’t need to. Women love my hair just as it is.”

His eye roll was new. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

“I’m just fuckin’ with ya, Lukas. You look great. I’m sure Vonnie will be happy to see you.”

Lukas tossed his bag into the back seat and climbed in. “I’m not sure Yvonne will want me there, Tommy. We never talked after I left her and came home to Texas. She don’t have good feelings about me.”

“No, but you’ve seen her since that happened, and managed not to kill each other.”

“Yeah, I won’t be good if we’re in close quarters.”

I looked at him. “We’re going to a ceremony where she will be the center of attention. Not too many people were invited. Not sure how you’ll be able to avoid close quarters, but if it helps, I’ll run interference for you, bro. Don’t sweat it.”

“Copy that.”

Mick was helping Annie out of her Maserati when Lukas and I got to the airport. Mick raised the trunk lid and grabbed Annie’s suitcase. He was walking next to her and carrying her bag towards the plane when a taxi pulled in and dropped Kamps and Roy off. The driver helped with their luggage, and they seemed to have a lot more than they needed for two days.

I laughed when I saw the cat carrier in Roy’s hand. He was bringing Punkin with him.

Jesus, Roy.

On the way to our seats, Annie whispered, “I want to sit with you.”

“I have to sit with Lukas. He’s freaking out about seeing Yvonne.”

“Why is he coming then?”

I shrugged. “We’re partners and like that. He’s practicing flying to D.C.”

“That doesn’t sound like Lukas to me, honey. He doesn’t practice anything, and he wouldn’t be coming if he didn’t have a reason. Definitely not the reason he gave you, but one of those deep dark Lukas reasons that no one can figure out.”

“I know what you’re saying, babe. Sometimes those Lukas reasons are unsettling.”

“They have been in the past,” whispered Annie. “You and I will find some private time later. Take care of your brother.”

Roy grabbed a seat and put the carrier on the seat next to him. I could hear Punkin meowing inside his little plastic prison. Roy adjusted the seatbelt and buckled the carrier into the seat and that made me laugh.

Roy was so fuckin’ funny.

Annie and Kamps sat together behind Roy, and I buckled in next to my brother a couple of rows ahead. We were all set to go. “You okay, bro?” I asked Lukas.

“Yeah, I guess I’m ready. I think maybe I should’ve stayed home from this deal.”

“Too late now. You got gorgeous hair n’all for the event. You gotta show that shit off.”

“You’re making it worse.”

“That’s what brothers are for.”

Press Room. West Wing. D.C.

President Armstrong stood tall at the podium, his presence commanding yet relaxed. The silver in his hair, more than when he began his term, caught the light, a testament to the weight of leadership. But despite the strains of the presidency, his eyes gleamed with a schoolboy excitement that had been absent for some time. The lines of responsibility etched his face, but today, his smile was broader than it had been in ages.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the press. I could’ve delegated this announcement to Mister Raney, but I’m so pleased and excited, I wanted to deliver the news in person.”

Hands shot up and questions flew through the air like speeding bullets, a chaotic symphony of voices vying for attention.

Press Secretary Raney, standing at the president’s side with a composed yet firm demeanor, held up his hand and motioned for quiet. “There will be time for questions later. Please be courteous. Don’t interrupt, and let the president finish his remarks.”

Lee adjusted the microphone slightly, his fingers tapping briefly against the podium before he continued. “As I was saying, I’m thrilled to announce that we have decided on a replacement to fill the position of vice president. The assassination of Nathan Walsh was a blow to our nation, and his shoes will be difficult to fill. But after careful consideration, we have selected a worthy replacement.”

A hush fell over the room as anticipation grew. Lee stopped for a moment and took a measured sip from his water glass, his eyes scanning the crowd before he delivered the next words with deliberate clarity.

“Major Yvonne Harrison will be sworn in tomorrow at two p.m. in front of a small official gathering, and then she will speak to the media as our new vice president.”

A tsunami of questions erupted from the overanxious reporters, their voices colliding in an incoherent rush. Some leaned forward eagerly, while others hastily jotted notes. Raney stepped forward again. His expression was patient but firm, like that of a kindergarten teacher. He settled the reporters down with a wave of his hand. “Please. Let the president finish.”

Lee clasped his hands in front of him and continued, “Tomorrow night, there will be a reception in the East Room in Vice President Harrison’s honor. That’s about all I have to tell you, other than I’m utterly relieved and happy to have such a knowledgeable patriot by my side.”

The president answered questions for five minutes, his voice steady and assured, before turning the podium over to his press secretary. With a final nod to the press, he stepped away, walking with a purposeful stride toward his office.

Vice President’s Office. West Wing. D.C.

Audrey Lingosi, Chief of Staff for the former vice president, greeted Yvonne Harrison in the designated vice president’s office in the West Wing. The space was grand yet unfamiliar, a reminder of the sudden shift in her career and life.

The vice president also maintained offices in the official residence at One Observatory Circle, the Eisenhower Building (her ceremonial office), and another at the Capitol. But today, this West Wing office was where she would set the tone for her tenure.

Mrs. Lingosi introduced the current staff to Yvonne. Their expressions were a mix of nervousness and hope, their postures stiff with uncertainty. Yvonne took her time, shaking each hand firmly, meeting their gazes with a steady, reassuring smile.

She made small efforts to connect—acknowledging names, commenting on a familiar face, offering words of appreciation. She sensed their unspoken question lingering between every handshake: Would they stay, or would she clean house?

Many new vice presidents replaced their entire staff. These people had served under Walsh, and Yvonne was an unknown entity. Yet, as she observed them, she saw experience, efficiency, and potential allies. Change for the sake of change was reckless. She needed continuity, not chaos.

She had made up her mind. “I know transitions can be uncertain,” she said, her voice measured but firm. “But I believe in working with people who know the job and know how to do it well. I need this team to be operating at full speed, starting today. I hope you’ll stay.”

Relief rippled through the room—subtle but unmistakable. A few shoulders relaxed, a couple of nods of approval exchanged. They were hers now, in this moment. That mattered.

After a private discussion with Mrs. Lingosi, Yvonne felt more confident about her role and the people around her. This wasn’t just an inherited office; it was her space now.

She glanced around, mentally rearranging the decor. Soon, her personal items from her old office would be there—photos, books, the little brass eagle she had carried with her since her first command.

Settling in would take time, but she had no intention of being tentative. She was Vice President of the United States, and she intended to lead.

Dulles International Airport. Virginia.

I slept most of the way back to D.C. Took a mittful of Advil before I got on the plane this time, and it seemed to help with the non-stop throbbing in my brain. Did nothing for the sick, woozy feeling, but I wasn’t supposed to be flying. That was on me.

We touched down without a bump and when we got off the Powell Corp. jet, we all went in different directions.

Lukas and me and Alfie headed for the White House to stay with the boss.

Annie was going to her townhouse in Georgetown and Jesse arrived with his detail to pick her up. It hurt my heart to see her hop in with Jesse knowing I’d be sleeping somewhere else.

Yvonne sent a driver for Roy and Kamps and that left me and Lukas to hitch a ride with Jesse and get dropped off at the White House.

“Did Lee forget to pick you guys up?” asked Annie.

“I was supposed to tell him what time we were arriving,” I said, “and I forgot to call and give him the goods. My bad.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Jesse. “We’ll take you there. It’s no problem.”

“Thanks, boss. Have you been talking to Charlie? How’s his arm?”

“He won’t be back to work until next week, but he’s okay. He’s managing and the pain is much less.”

Shouldn’t have got shot at all.

I was still pissed at Charlie Radeska for making me look bad.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Daniel opened the door with a smile and let me and Lukas and Alfie into the residence. Smelled like we were in time for dinner. The place felt familiar, but there was always something imposing about stepping into the president’s private space. I never got used to it.

“The president and Ted are in the dining room, Tommy. I believe June is just about to serve dinner.”

“Thanks, Daniel,” I said, shaking off the day.

Lee grinned and stood up when Lukas and I walked into the dining room, a habit that spoke of old-school respect. “There you are, and just in time. You didn’t get back to me, so I told June to include two more for dinner just in case.”

“Thanks, boss. My fault for not calling you. Trying to get everything lined up at home for Ellis, but that’s no excuse. I just forgot. We came with Annie on her plane.”

“She’s not staying with us?”

I already told him that. Is his memory starting to go?

“She wanted to stay at her own place. Jesse is there and she’ll be company for him.”

“As long as everybody has a place to sleep.” Lee’s grin softened, but I caught the flicker of concern in his eyes. “You holding up okay?”

I nodded, though the question carried weight. “Yeah. Some days, it’s a lot. Other days, easy as pie.”

He nodded like he understood. Maybe he did.

“Have a seat. You boys are probably hungry.”

Lukas sat next to Ted, and we ate dinner while Alfie, Roxy and Stretch stampeded from room to room playing and making a helluva noise. Made Lee laugh.

“I bet the White House never saw the likes of our three dogs tearing around. They’re a menace, all of ‘em,” I said.

That drew an easy chuckle from Lee. “Maybe the White House has never seen this much family.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching them for a moment before turning back to me. “You know, Tommy, it’s a hell of a thing—trying to hold a family together when the world keeps pulling you in different directions.”

I met his gaze. Maybe this was his way of telling me he understood.

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded. “Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.”

Lee set his fork down, his expression growing serious. “Tommy, I realize Ellis is wonderful at what she does, but in the end, her presence is a stop-gap. She holds things together for you when you’re away, but you need to be thinking long-term.”

“What’re you sayin’, Lee?”

“You’re stretched thin, Tommy. Your family needs you, and you need them.”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of his words settling in. “You think I should quit?”

Lee didn’t answer right away. He took a sip of water, considering. “I think you should ask yourself how much more you can give to this life without losing what matters most.”

Silence hung between us, heavier than before. The noise of the dogs rough-housing in the next room felt distant, almost like another world.

“I don’t have an answer for that yet,” I admitted.

Lee nodded, his expression unreadable. “You’ll figure it out. Just don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Roy used his key to let himself and Kamps into Yvonne’s townhouse. The beep of the alarm filled the quiet space as he moved swiftly, disarming it with practiced ease. He flicked on the lights, casting a warm glow over the familiar surroundings.

“You act like you live here,” Kamps grumbled.

“I used to.”

Kamps set his bag down in the foyer and fidgeted with his pack of smokes. “Don’t think I should be here. It don’t feel right to me.”

“Yvonne invited you and you’re here at her request. Relax and have a beer. She probably shopped and bought your brand for you.”

“How could she? I drink Texas beer.”

Roy strode to the fridge and opened it. “Here you go. Heineken.”

“When have you ever seen me drink imported beer, Roy?”

“It won’t hurt you to expand your horizons. Try something new. You might enjoy it.”

Kamps chugged half the beer down and shook his head. “I don’t think I can stay here.”

Before Kamps had a chance to say anything else or call a cab and escape, Yvonne came in the front door carrying bags of food.

“Hey, boys. Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. Figured you’d be hungry, so I picked up dinner. It’s probably not up to your standards, Chet, but I asked around, and this is supposed to be the best Texas BBQ in D.C. Hope you like it.”

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s never any trouble to do something nice for the people I care about. Besides, I wanted you both to feel at home here.”

She rushed into the kitchen and put the bags on the table. She hugged Roy first and he teared up, then she wrapped her arms around Kamps and hugged him tight. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered to him. “It means a lot to me.”

Kamps was temporarily stunned by Yvonne’s greeting and couldn’t think of a thing to say. Inhaling her familiar perfume made his head spin and brought back memories too painful to recall.

Usually adept at compartmentalization, he’d temporarily misplaced that skill.

Roy got busy setting the table while Yvonne made herself a drink, poured Roy a glass of wine, and got Kamps another beer.

He stared at the bottle for a minute before tipping it up and drinking half of it in one go.

She sat down and let out a long sigh. “Big day doing all kinds of things to get ready for tomorrow. I had to move offices and meet new staff and work on my speech. Feels like I’ve been running since sunrise.”

Yvonne took the containers out of the bags and opened them. “Let’s eat while the food is hot.”

Roy scooped pulled pork onto his plate. “Are you keeping Walsh’s people?”

“I figured it was a smart move. That way, I could hit the ground running. I’ll add one or two key people, but that’s it.”

She cast a quick glance toward Kamps, but he was too busy loading his plate to notice.

The three of them tore into the BBQ, leaving nothing but bones behind. Roy praised the meal, declaring it the closest thing to Texas BBQ he’d had outside the state.

“I’m not sure why you invited me here, Yvonne.” Kamps set his beer down and looked her in the eye.

“She needs our support,” said Roy. “This is a stressful time for Yvonne.”

Kamps gave Roy the stink-eye. “I’m asking Yvonne, Roy. Let her speak for herself.”

Yvonne turned her chair to face Kamps, closing the distance between them. “Roy’s answer covers the basics, Chet. I need support from people I know and trust.”

Kamps huffed, his fingers curling into fists on the table. “You don’t⁠—”

She reached out and pressed a single finger against his lips, silencing him. “What happened in the past needs to stay in the past, Chet. I invited you, specifically, because of who you are. I trust your advice, your intelligence, and, frankly, your brutal honesty. I wanted you here tonight so I could ask you something in person.”

Kamps felt his stomach twist. “What question?”

A slow, creeping heat spread across his skin. Sweat beaded at his temple.

I don’t want to hear the question because I might say yes.

Yvonne took a breath and steadied herself. “Will you be my chief advisor?”

It wasn’t her perfume making him dizzy now.

“Jesus Christ, Vonnie.” His voice was hoarse, raw. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

Farrington Residence. Georgetown. D.C.

Annie and Jesse laughed as they enjoyed the sumptuous meal crafted by Lynette. The warmth of the candlelight and the quiet clinking of silverware against plates added to the easy familiarity between them.

“That woman is a godsend. She can make anything taste delicious,” Jesse said, leaning back in his chair. “And the conversations we get into—I’m almost thinking I should hire her as an advisor. She knows her way around politics.”

Annie smirked as she poured them both more wine. “She’s been a fly on the wall in the homes of so many D.C. movers and shakers. The stories she could tell would be incredible.”

Jesse chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly, I could use all the help I can get. Navigating these political waters is something else entirely. It’s overwhelming.”

Annie set the bottle down and studied him for a moment. “If you ever need a sounding board, you know I’m here, right? I may not be in the thick of it anymore, but I know how this city works.”

Jesse met her gaze, appreciation flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. I know. And I might just take you up on that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence before Annie changed the subject. “Heard through the grapevine you had a time of it in Syria.”

“Yeah, it was hairy for a bit, but we got the job done.”

“How was Tommy?”

Jesse’s expression softened instantly. “Amazing. My DSS detail is excellent, but that boy is in a league of his own. Tommy’s got this natural ability to see danger coming and get out of it before it swallows him whole.” He swirled his wine, a touch of pride in his voice. “He’s one of the smartest, most instinctive guys I know.”

Annie smiled wistfully. “He’s pretty special.”

Their conversation remained easy and amiable, the kind shared between two people with deep history but no lingering animosity. They talked late into the evening, laughter punctuating their words, old memories resurfacing without bitterness.

Eventually, after several liqueurs with their coffee, they found themselves settling into a different kind of discussion—one that had been waiting in the wings for years. The things they had left unsaid after their divorce, the unspoken weight of shared experiences, finally found their way into the open.

By the time the night ended, both of them felt lighter. Relieved. Happy to have confronted what had lingered for too long and grateful that, even after everything, they could still find solace in each other’s company.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Ben Vipond slumped into his sofa, drink in hand and bottle on the table. The Washington Capitals hockey game blared from his 75-inch TV, the surround sound filling the room with roaring crowd noise and the sharp scrape of skates on ice. But he wasn’t watching. His eyes were on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

His heart was elsewhere.

He hadn’t eaten that night, but he was full.

Full of hopelessness. Full of despair.

He took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. The acrid burn in his lungs barely registered. The alcohol didn’t either.

Nothing could numb this.

He stared at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He didn’t want to text her. He needed to. The words came out raw, unfiltered.

This fuckin’ sucks, Army. I’m not sure I can handle this.

He pressed send and clenched his jaw, his knee bouncing as he waited. He wasn’t even sure if she would answer. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she shouldn’t. But the response came almost immediately.

Same. I’m trying to keep busy. I’m hanging onto the thought that it will only be for three years.

Ben exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping despite himself. Three years? Three fucking years? She made it sound so easy, so logical, like they could just put their emotions in a box and lock them away until the time was right.

His grip tightened around the glass in his hand.

“Three years?” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I can last three fuckin’ days.”

He set the drink down with more force than necessary, the sharp clink against the table breaking the silence between the bursts of noise from the TV. His gaze drifted back to the phone, his thumb hovering over her message, resisting the urge to type something reckless, something desperate.

Call her, his brain said.

The thought gnawed at him, tempting, dangerous. He could hear her voice in his mind, low and warm, calling him an idiot for torturing himself. He could imagine her smile, the way she’d try to make him laugh even when she was hurting, too.

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t call her. Wouldn’t.

Instead, he took another long drag of his cigarette and let the smoke burn away the words he didn’t dare say.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Wednesday, January 8th.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

6:00 a.m.

Yvonne glanced at her alarm clock and was unpleasantly surprised to see that it was six a.m. She had no time for a run and was feeling queasy.

Shit—today is my big day. My flippy gut must be nerves.

She pulled the covers over her head and lay silently for a few minutes, trying to digest the day ahead and what it meant.

It was going to be overwhelming.

After fifteen minutes, she finally pulled herself together enough to get up and face her destiny.

A quick hot shower always helped her start the day. As she padded down the stairs to start the coffee, the heavenly aroma wafted to her, making her smile.

Roy.

She walked into the kitchen. Roy took one look at her and threw his arms around her. “You’re going to be spectacular today. Sit down, enjoy your coffee, and stop worrying.”

“Now that you’re here, I am fine. Let’s have our coffee, then I’ll show you what I picked out for the swearing-in ceremony. I look forward to your opinion.”

“And you know I’ll give it.”

They both chuckled.

Punkin meowed at Vonnie’s feet, and Roy added a little more food to his bowl. “He’s nervous about being in a strange house.”

Yvonne laughed. “He’ll have a lot more room to roam around when we move to another strange house in a couple of days. The official residence is huge.”

“Will we have a staff there?”

“Yes. The chef and household staff come with the house. Did Chet say anything to you about being my advisor?”

“Not a word. I’m sure he’s thinking about it. He didn’t shout out an ear-splitting no,” said Roy. “I find that encouraging.”

Yvonne laughed. “I wish I did. I’m sure he’ll turn me down, but he is exactly right for the job.”

Kamps plodded down the stairs, gripping the handrail. His hip would always hurt, and he found himself wondering if the official residence had an elevator. Then he swore at himself for thinking that thought. Getting off on the wrong foot set him in a fine mood for the day. It didn’t take much.

Yvonne and Roy were already in the kitchen, and Roy was just finishing pouring a mug for Chet when he walked in.

“Thanks,” said Kamps, and took a sip. “This tastes just like Kicking Horse. Love that coffee.”

Roy and Yvonne exchanged looks.

“Actually,” Yvonne said, “this is Kicking Horse. I got hooked on it when we were together, and Roy sends me a packet every so often because it’s hard to find here. Hope you don’t mind.”

Kamps’s go-to would be fury, but today, he just didn’t have it in him. “As long as you’re happy, Vonnie. I’ll make sure you always have a supply.”

Roy and Vonnie exchanged puzzled looks but said nothing.

Vonnie took the lead. “Are you feeling okay, Chet? You look like you didn’t sleep well.”

“Too much to think about,” he mumbled. “That was a heavy question you laid on me.”

She reached across the table and patted his hand. “I know, and I’m sorry it caused you stress, but I truly believe you’re the best man for the job, and I know I’m going to need you if I have any hope of succeeding. Take all the time you need to think about it.”

“I intend to.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the air vents. The White House had a strange stillness in the mornings. It was peaceful, but you could feel the power in the air. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it. Didn’t seem to bother Alfie, snoring on the carpet by my bed.

Lee called it Tommy’s room and from time to time, I left some stuff in that room and the housekeeping people never moved it or touched it.

Lukas slept in the other guest room next to Ted’s room. Ted was staying until spring melted the snow on Purple Mountain and he could get back to his cabin with Stretch.

Today was Vonnie’s big day and I was excited for her. I’d be more excited for the day when Annie was by my side for most of it.

It will be interesting to see Lukas and Yvonne together. Can’t wait for those sparks to fly.

Lee and Ted were drinking coffee in the dining room when Lukas and I got there, and Lee seemed to be a lot happier than usual. “Hey, boss. Big day ahead for you.”

He grinned. “Sure will be big. Huge one for Yvonne too. She was a little apprehensive yesterday, but she’ll have Roy with her today and he has a calming effect on her.”

“I was surprised Kamps came with Roy.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize Mister Kamps made the trip.”

I shrugged. “I guess he wanted to wish her well,” I said. “No idea what’s going on there, boss.”

“Mister Kamps is always welcome,” said Lee. “An interesting man and we need more brilliant minds like his at the Capitol.”

Lukas watched June and her helper served breakfast and didn’t risk a comment.

“The gathering in my office will be small,” said Lee. “Just us and the Chief Justice, Jesse and Annie and Yvonne and her friends.”

“What about Granddad?” I asked. “Won’t he want to see Yvonne being sworn in?”

“Of course he will, Tommy. They are still close friends and longtime colleagues. An oversight on my part and I’m glad you reminded me. I’ll call and invite him as soon as I get to my office.”

“All kinds of people will be coming for the official reception,” said Ted. “I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable mingling with hundreds of fancy people.”

Lee laughed. “Half of Washington has been invited, Ted. I’m hoping it’s the better half.”

I snorted. “No such thing, Lee. This city’s a quagmire. Don’t worry, Ted. You can hang with me, Lukas and Annie at the bar.”

“Annie hanging with us?” asked Lukas.

“Hope so.”

“Maybe she’ll be hanging with me,” said Lee, and then he laughed.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you, boss?

There was lightheartedness in the air, with a hint of tension. The day was too important. Too many moving parts. Too many people balancing on the edge of history. And beneath it all, something about Kamps being there gnawed at the back of my mind.

But I shoved the thought away and reached for my coffee. One thing at a time.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

As soon as Ben opened his eyes he texted Yvonne.

“All the best today, Army. I love you.”

“Thanks. I woke up wishing you were beside me in my bed.”

“I’ll hold onto that thought.”

“See you tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

Ben sat on the side of the bed, lit a cigarette and called the florist.

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

8:00 a.m.

Lee knew Director Dunnett started work early, but he waited until eight a.m. to make the call. He should have done it yesterday. How the hell had he forgotten?

He sighed, rubbing his temple before picking up the phone. A minor oversight, but one he needed to correct.

“Good morning, Blaine.”

“Good morning, Mister President. A call from you this early in the day puts me on alert.”

Lee chuckled, still embarrassed. “No need to worry today, Blaine. Just a verbal invitation to Yvonne’s swearing-in. I presume you received your invitation to her formal reception already.”

“Yes, I did. This is wonderful news, and she is the ideal person to fill that vacancy. I’m beyond thrilled for her.”

Dunnett’s voice cracked slightly, and Lee paused. The man was getting older—he was well past the age of retirement, yet insisted on continuing to work, to carry the weight of service.

A moment of silence lingered between them, and Lee wondered if it was emotion in Dunnett’s voice—or something more fragile.

“A small gathering in my office at two o’clock and a brief pause for refreshments afterward in the Red Room. Time was short to arrange anything more elaborate, but I wanted a day of celebration for her.”

“A deserving young woman, Lee. I applaud your choice. She will be invaluable to you in the vice president’s position.”

“I believe she will. Looking forward to seeing you this afternoon.”

“I’ll definitely be there. Thank you, Lee.”

“You’re more than welcome. This will be an occasion to remember for all of us.”

Lee ended the call but felt something wasn’t quite right. He stared vacantly for a moment, unsettled.

It wasn’t like Dunnett to sound so sentimental. The man had spent a lifetime hiding emotion behind discipline and protocol. But today…

Lee shook his head. No time to dwell on it. Too much to do.

The knock at his door was soft but confident. He already knew who it was. “Come in.”

Yvonne entered, looking radiant. She was trying to remain composed, but he could see it in her eyes. The weight of the day was playing on her nerves.

So many changes in such a short time.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning. How is your special day going so far, Yvonne?”

“I’m in a bit of a daze. It’s happening so fast.”

“I just got off the phone with Director Dunnett,” Lee said, watching her closely. “He will be joining us for your swearing-in. I thought he might enjoy sharing your special moment with you.”

Her face softened, showing her appreciation. “Thanks for inviting him. We spent so many years together. I did want him included.”

“You look fantastic, Yvonne. Have you practiced your address to the nation?”

She nodded. “I’ve gone over it so many times that I think I know it by heart. I don’t want to rely on the teleprompters.”

“Wonderful. It’s always best if you don’t have to refer to your notes. We can’t all be Jesse Quantrall, turning off-the-cuff speeches into memorable and repeated sound bites.”

“I haven’t heard him speak publicly,” said Yvonne.

“Oh, you must. Such an orator. Off the top of his head, he can hold the attention of an audience for an hour.”

“That is a talent.” She hesitated. “I’ve always shied away from public speaking in the past. That’s another skill I’ll have to perfect.”

Lee nodded. “It comes with time and practice. As your confidence grows, so will your ability to command a room. That’s something I learned from personal experience.”

Yvonne exhaled. “I’ll be terrified today, Lee. But I have to do it and sound confident. I hope I can fake it and make it sound natural.”

He smiled. “You will. I know your capabilities.” Lee reached into his desk, pulled out a ring of keys, and placed them in her hand. “Keys to the residence. The staff is ready for you to move your personal belongings in.”

Yvonne ran her fingers over the metal keys, weighing them in her palm. “Thank you,” she said, a note of reverence in her voice. “Another mountain to climb, but that is a beautiful home, and I’ll be proud to live there. So much history in that old place.”

Lee nodded, lost in thought for a moment. “Tommy and I loved living there when Linc was a baby,” he said wistfully. “Seems so long ago.”

Yvonne looked at him curiously but didn’t press further. Instead, she tightened her grip on the keys.

A new history was about to begin.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Roy organized the packing of Yvonne’s clothes while Chet sat on the end of her bed and watched. Roy was in his element, gleefully flying around the room, creating piles of clothes for the movers.

“Jesus, is she takin’ fucking everything in her closet?”

“I’m packing everything on the list, Chet. Yvonne can always run back here if she needs something she’s forgotten. There’s no need to take household stuff with us. It’s all there at the other house. I understand that house has an office for her too.”

“What about her furniture?”

“It stays here. Other than photos and small mementos, there’s no need to take household items. The other house is move-in ready.”

“Watching you work tired me out, Roy. Can you take a break for a coffee?”

Roy laughed. “Sure can. I’ll carry this box down to the foyer and make us a fresh pot.”

They sat at the kitchen table and Roy talked seriously to Kamps about the job offer. “Have you thought about the position Yvonne wants you to take?”

“How can I think of anything else?”

“Are you for or against it?”

“I haven’t decided, but it is an elite job. Me not being an elite person with a less than elite past, I can’t see where I’d fit in with the Washington quagmire of liars and cheaters. Tommy knows this town best, and that’s why he hates coming here.”

“I can’t deny what you’re saying, but maybe you’re exactly what this town needs. Don’t try to fit in. Vonnie knows who you are to your core. She even told you that she wants you because of who you are.”

Kamps sat in silence, pondering. He realized he was so bent on avoiding anything to do with Yvonne that he missed her entire message.

She wants me with her for who I am.

“As long as she doesn’t try to change me, I could possibly be helpful skimming the algae off the top of the swamp water for her.”

Roy smiled. “You paint such a happy picture. The salary is probably staggering.”

“No mention of that, and I’m not asking. The salary has nothing to do with my decision. I make enough money to support us through the Agency.”

“That’s true,” said Roy. “I shouldn’t have put a monetary slant on your decision. I’m sorry about that, Chet.”

“If I took the job it would be about the work. Nothing else.”

“How very noble, Chet Kamps.”

“Shut up, Roy.”

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

2:00 p.m.

At ten minutes to two the invited guests began gathering in the Oval Office for the swearing in of the new vice president.

First to arrive was Director Blaine Dunnett, head of the NSA. Tommy jumped up and hugged the old man and led him to one of the sofas in the seating area.

“How have you been, Granddad?”

“I’m doing well, Tommy. It’s nice to see you too, Lukas. Are you both here for this special occasion, or for something else as well?”

“We came just for this, Granddad. Hope we get to go back home tomorrow. This will be enough excitement for us, won’t it Lukas?”

“For sure. We’re between jobs right now and it’s great to release some of the tension.”

“I can relate to that, boys,” said Dunnett with a big grin.

The Chief Justice arrived next, and Lee kept him chatting until the rest of the guests were present in the office.

Annie arrived on the arm of the Secretary of State and then Chet Kamps and Roy Goddard came in. All they were missing was the woman of the hour

Yvonne stepped into the Oval Office moments later, dressed in a tailored Armani dark navy pantsuit. She looked stunning yet authoritative and no-nonsense. In short—vice presidential. She surveyed everyone in the Oval Office and smiled warmly, glowing with joy.

The Chief Justice signaled that it was time to begin.

The guests stood around in a semi-circle giving a polite space to the president, the Chief Justice and Major Yvonne Harrison.

Yvonne placed her hand on the bible and read the oath of office.

I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

The Chief Justice shook her hand and Lee was next.

Yvonne stood with tears in her eyes as each person in the room offered congratulations.

When Kamps approached, tears trickled down her cheeks and he nodded. There was no longer any doubt that he’d take the position offered and help her. It was his duty borne of love and patriotism, leaning heavily on love.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Yvonne, “I’d like to introduce you all to Chet Kamps, Senior Advisor to the Vice President.”

Everyone shouted congratulations and clapped. Chet looked for somewhere to run, but there was nowhere to go.

“Wonderful news,” said Lee, shaking Chet’s hand. “I couldn’t be more pleased. A brilliant addition to our staff.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m proud to serve my country.”

Lee said quietly to Yvonne. “You were saving that as a surprise for me, Yvonne?”

“I was hoping to surprise you because I know you want him with us so badly, but Chet didn’t agree to take the job until one minute ago.”

“A big step for him, but one I heartily endorse. He’ll be invaluable to us, Yvonne.”

“I agree.”

Annie smiled as she hugged Kamps and whispered in his ear. “Go get ‘em, champ.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Press Room. White House. D.C.

2:30 p.m.

At two-thirty, everyone moved to the Red Room for refreshments. Everyone except Yvonne and the president. They had a stop to make in the press room before they could relax with the others.

When they arrived, Sanchez Raney was speaking informally to the media people gathered for Yvonne’s address to the nation.

As the president entered the room, all of the press people were on their feet. Conversation faded.

Lee stepped to the podium, his expression composed but filled with unmistakable pride. Yvonne stood by his side, her shoulders squared, her face unreadable.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Lee began, his voice steady. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, it is my honor and privilege to introduce you to the new Vice President of the United States, Major Yvonne Harrison.”

Thunderous applause erupted. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment in time. Yvonne took a deep breath, absorbing the moment and letting it all settle before stepping up to the podium.

A hush fell over the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I consider it an honor and my duty to serve my country in whatever capacity asked of me. Most of my adult life was spent in the military branch of our government.” She smiled. “I’m Army, and proud of it.”

A few cheers from the audience.

She laughed. “Then I had the pleasure of working under Director Dunnett at the NSA. A colleague and very wise man from whom I learned volumes. He is a patriot above all else, and a true friend.”

“For the past few months, I’ve served at President Armstrong’s side as his senior advisor and in the wake of tragic circumstances, the president felt I was the right person to replace Nathan Walsh. Another true patriot who was taken from us by our enemies.”

Silence filled the room. A heavy silence. Yvonne let it stretch for a moment, letting the weight of Walsh’s absence linger in the air.

She inhaled deeply, gripping the edges of the podium before continuing.

“As vice president of our great nation, I’ve sworn to do my best, but in these troubled times I will need support from my staff, my family, the citizens of our vast country, and from all of you.”

Her gaze swept over the crowd of reporters. “We are in an era of uncertainty, and leadership requires not just vision, but resolve. I will stand firm in my duty, guided by the principles of service and integrity. That is my promise to this country.”

The press corps stood as one, erupting into applause. Some clapped enthusiastically, others more restrained. A few exchanged murmurs, likely dissecting every word, already forming their next headlines.

That was part of the job.

Yvonne turned from the podium, walking with Lee out of the room as Raney stepped up to field questions. The door shut behind them, muffling the sudden barrage of voices.

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders as if shedding invisible weight.

Lee chuckled. “Told you you’d pull it off.”

She huffed out a soft laugh, though the tension still hadn’t left her frame. “One speech down. A lifetime more to go.”

Lee nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Welcome to the job, Madam Vice President.”

CIA Headquarters. Langley. Virginia.

3:00 p.m.

Ben worked diligently at his desk, trying to focus on multiple crisis areas around the globe. He hoped that the bigger the problem, the more he’d be distracted.

Wishful thinking.

Keeping one eye on the clock, Ben waited until he was reasonably sure she’d be free of the press room. He texted.

“Congratulations, Madam Vice President. I’ll see you tonight.”

Her response wasn’t immediate, but that was understandable.

“Thank you, Mister Director. Will I see you tonight at the reception?”

Ben grinned wistfully.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Thank you. You fill my thoughts.”

“As you do mine.”

He pushed back in his chair wondering how he’d get through the rest of the day.

Red Room. White House. D.C.

3:15 p.m.

Yvonne and Lee returned from the press room, and everyone gave them a hand when they entered the Red Room.

The White House staff had set up a small buffet laden with finger foods and pastries. A uniformed bartender manned the bar in the corner of the room, and he appeared to be the busiest man there.

Yvonne looked better than she had in a while, and I walked over and hugged her. “Nice one, babe. You’ve got what it takes.”

“Thanks, Tommy. I’m hoping that’s true.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll have one margarita, but only one.” She laughed.

“I thought Ben might be here,” I whispered so she was the only one who heard me.

Yvonne maintained her composure, but the sadness in her eyes spoke volumes.

She didn’t need to say anything. I already knew.

“It doesn’t seem fair,” she murmured. “We were only getting started, and now we have to set our feelings aside.” Yvonne’s eyes searched my face. “Am I being childish about this?”

“Fuck no. It’s hard enough to find love. When you do, you should never be forced to let it go.”

“Life can be cruel, Tommy.”

I glanced at Annie across the room. My chest tightened. “Don’t I know it. It rips out your heart, and you don’t know how to make it right, but you can’t think of anyone else.”

Yvonne sipped on her margarita. “Exactly how I feel. I hate having to put my personal feelings aside.” She snorted. “Listen to me. VP for less than an hour and already complaining. I should be grateful.”

Vonnie leaned close and whispered. “Strictly speaking, nobody knows anything about Ben and me, and we have to keep it that way.”

“Mum’s the word. Is he coming?”

“He’ll be here tonight.”

“Uh huh. He should be invited.”

I knew what it felt like to hide your feelings for the person you loved, but I didn’t get the chance to tell Yvonne that. Probably for the best.

Everyone in the room swarmed around, giving her congratulations and wishing her well.

All except Lukas. His eyes were locked on her, but he never made a move towards her. He stood there, staring, gripping his glass tightly.

Talk about someone messed up by love.

Vice President’s Office. West Wing. D.C.

4:00 p.m.

Taking her leave from the intimate reception in the Red room, Yvonne walked through the corridors to her official office with Chet and Roy.

The trio walked through the corridors of the White House, Roy marveling at the antiques, Chet following, confused.

“Where we going, Vonnie?” Chet grumbled.

“I want to show you your new office.”

Chet’s eyebrows mashed together. “I thought I was working out of your new place. You never said anything about me working here.”

Yvonne lightly touched his forearm, which quickly calmed Chet. “Relax. We agreed that you’d work primarily out of my residence, and I intend to stick to our deal. However, now that you hold such a high position, you’ll have several offices, depending on what’s going on. For instance, on the rare occasion when you need to work from the White House, this will be your office.”

He glanced at the office she offered him and nodded his head. It was an office.

When they returned to Yvonne’s office, a huge bouquet of flowers decorated her desk.

“Look at the gorgeous flowers,” said Roy. “Somebody likes you, Yvonne.”

She smiled. “Flowers from a well-wisher.”

“Aren’t you going to read the card?” asked Roy.

“I’ll read it later. I want Chet to tell me what he thinks of the office next door.”

He shrugged. “It’s an office. I’ll be happier in the one at your new residence far away from people.”

“Some days, you may have no choice but to work in your office next door here in the West Wing.”

“I realize that, but when it’s not mandatory, I’ll steer clear.”

“We’ll deal with the logistics as we go along, Chet. I’m just thrilled that you’re going to be on my team. I feel a hundred percent more confident with you by my side.”

Chet stared at Yvonne, dumbfounded. “It really means that much to you?”

“It means more than words can properly convey.”

Kamps looked at Roy, who was already glassy-eyed.

“That was so wonderful,” Roy said.

“Shut up, Roy.”

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

5:45 p.m.

Yvonne’s new Secret Service detail made sure the new vice president and her two colleagues got back to the townhouse safely. They took up their security positions and plunged into their new assignment with unbridled enthusiasm.

While they were blessed with a bit of down time, Kamps had a few beers to bolster his courage. In a few hours he would have to face all the people at Yvonne’s huge reception, and he was dreading it. She would be introducing him as her senior advisor, and he had to be emotionally ready to handle the stares and the doubt in their eyes.

I’ll stick close to Annie. She knows everybody in Washington, and she’ll help me fit in.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

7:00 p.m.

I had a few beers in the living room with Lukas and Ted before we had to change for the fancy party. “Are we eating dinner here or down in the East Room, Ted?”

“I think there will be a big buffet down there,” said Ted. “I’m sure I heard Lee say there wasn’t time for the staff to prepare for a sit-down dinner for five hundred people and they’d have to go with a buffet instead.”

“Long as there’s food, I’m okay. Who needs another beer?”

East Room. White House. D.C.

7:30 p.m.

At seven thirty, we followed Lee downstairs to the East Room. He wanted to double-check and make sure everything was perfect for Yvonne’s reception.

The space had been transformed into an elegant yet celebratory venue. Gold and navy banners hung beside towering floral arrangements, and a long buffet table stretched along one wall, overloaded with gourmet dishes. The soft hum of classical music filled the air, but my eyes immediately sought out something more essential.

“Where’s the bar?” asked Lukas and Ted pointed it out. “Yep. I’m heading there right now. Who’s with me?”

I laughed. “Right behind you, bro. I might stick close to that corner all night.”

“You might have to sing with the band.”

“I sure as hell won’t. The crowd coming here probably listens to fuckin’ opera or some damned thing. They never heard of Fogarty.”

Ted chuckled as he followed us to the far corner of the room.

A few minutes later, guests began pouring in. They’d already been checked by security and then rechecked to make sure they carried genuine invitations.

A fake invitation to one of these exclusive Washington parties was as common as a fake ID in the hands of a teenager.

Among the first groups flooding in was Yvonne with Kamps and Roy. Yvonne wore a long dark green gown and looked spectacular. Not just beautiful but powerful.

Roy and Kamps flanked her. Roy looked like a whole different man in that tux, and for a second, I thought he had found himself a date in between celebrations.

Then I realized Roy’s ‘date’ was Kamps. He looked fantastic, with his scruff shaved from his head and face. Then he noticed me and made his way over, weaving through the growing crowd. The hum of conversation and laughter intensified as more guests arrived.

“I should’ve known you guys would be near the fuckin’ bar,” Kamps smirked, scanning the bottles behind the bartender. “I’ll have a Heineken.”

I snorted. “Imported beer? You’ve been in D.C. one day, and now you’re a fuckin’ beer snob?”

“There was an entire case in Yvonne’s fridge, and I’ve been drinking it ever since I got here.”

I made a mental note to see if Ben Vipond drank Heineken. That would be the clincher right there.

People continued to pour into the room. Most of them important to the current government in some way, or important in their own minds.

Sam Quan, Attorney General. Colin Sarmento, Director of the FBI. Congressmen and Congresswomen. Senators, both male and female. Directors of the DEA, ATF. Heads of all the alphabets.

I watched them all come in, but I was only interested in one person. She came through the door on the arm of the Secretary of State, and I was instantly hard.

So fuckin’ gorgeous in a silver dress I’d never seen before. I watched all the men in the room turn to look at her as she crossed the room coming towards me with a smile on her beautiful face.

She should be on my arm.

She and Jesse stopped, and Annie gave me a wink. “You guys are in the right place.”

Jesse chuckled. “Always my first stop. I’m not used to these Washington parties. Don’t think I ever will be. Hanging out on a stool at Boots is more my style.”

“Mine too. First time I ever wore a goddamned tux.”

“You boys look so handsome,” said Annie. “When the dancing starts, y’all will be prime targets for the cougars in this room on the prowl. It’s hunting season, and I’m lookin’ at some ten-point bucks.”

“Jesus,” said Lukas. “No way I can dance. Don’t know how. I’d better have another beer.”

“I think I saw you dance once,” I said.

“Shut up, Tommy.”

With his drink in hand, Jesse moved effortlessly through the room, Annie at his side. She fit right in—polished, poised, perfectly at ease. Watching them together, it wasn’t hard to see why they got married in the first place. They were the same breed—two people who could walk into any room and own it.

Me and Lukas grabbed seats as close to the bar as possible. No point making things harder for ourselves. After a few rounds, the bartender had our drinks ready before we even had to ask.

Then, the atmosphere shifted.

James Bond walked in.

Or at least, that’s what it looked like.

It wasn’t the James Bond, of course. It was Ben Vipond, Director of the CIA, and he could’ve stepped right off the cover of GQ. His black designer tux fit perfectly, his hair was perfect, and his smile dazzling. The weight of his presence alone shifted the energy in the room.

I could see why Vonnie fell for him.

Washington’s elite flocked to him instantly. The local cougar society wasted no time closing in, touching his arm, and laughing too loudly. He smiled, shook hands, and played the game like a pro. But his head was on a swivel.

Looking for someone.

It didn’t take him long to find her.

Yvonne.

She stood at the center of a group, surrounded by political vultures trying to get in her good graces. She was the belle of the ball, her posture flawless, her smile diplomatic. Ben moved as if the crowd parted for him, his presence undeniable.

When he finally reached her, he did nothing more than touch her elbow and murmur a soft congratulations.

But it was enough.

Yvonne stumbled—just barely—but even from across the room, I could see her breath catch, saw the glassiness in her eyes.

Lukas saw it, too. His hand clenched around his beer glass, knuckles white, jaw locked.

I exhaled slowly, watching as Ben paid his respects, then excused himself, moving through the room with practiced ease. He wasn’t just here as a guest. He was here to support her.

“Hey, Ben. Here for the big event?”

He slipped into his party boy mode. “You think I’d miss the biggest blowout of the year? Free food and free booze—wouldn’t miss it.” His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. Focused. There was something more on his mind.

I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Gonna be tough on you and Vonnie. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back even though you don’t always have mine.”

A shadow passed over Ben’s face. His usual calm confidence faltered for half a second. He scanned the room and visibly switched from party boy mode to Director of the CIA.

Then he leaned in.

“There’s something vitally important we need to discuss.”

“I’m going home to Texas in the morning.”

“I need to talk to you before that happens. My office at ten tomorrow?”

“Is it that important?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay. I’ll come talk to you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Thursday, January 9th.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

The sun shone through the windows of the Residence dining room this morning, reflecting Lee’s cheery attitude. He walked with a spring in his step and a smile on his face like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Seeing him like that made me chuckle. “Look who’s grinning like he just got laid. Somethin’ happen after the party last night, boss?”

Lee chuckled, embarrassed. “Nothing like that, Tommy. I’m simply looking forward to going to work for the first time in ages. I have Yvonne, who is eager to prove herself and dig into important issues. I finally have someone I can delegate to, which will make this job more bearable.”

“Do you have a lot to give her?”

“Loads.”

“I was hoping Lukas and I could go home today, but Vipond wants to see me before I go. Urgent business. The usual spook stuff.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what it’s about, son?”

“No. He talked to me at the reception and didn’t go into detail. There were too many people milling around.”

“I hope he’s not wiping out more Russians without telling me,” snapped Lee. “His last little caper almost started World War Three.”

“Yeah, that was a bit of a gaff on his part. I won’t know what it’s about until he tells me, boss.”

“Will you run it by me before you run off and rock the world, Tommy?”

“If I can, I’ll tell you where I’m going, boss. You know where my brain’s at on this.”

Lee nodded. “I trust your judgment,” he paused to laugh, “maybe more than my own. Makes me grateful to have Yvonne and Kamps for the next three years.”

“Fuckin’ shocked you got Kamps, boss. I was blindsided by that announcement. He’s not easy to sway, so he must want to help Yvonne and you, or he never would’ve agreed to take the job.”

“I understand that he’s only coming on staff because of Yvonne, but he’ll be invaluable to both of us. Quick thinker with a staggering IQ. I’m thrilled he’ll be in the West Wing and available to us.”

Reminds me, I need to touch base with him on my little side project.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

As soon as Yvonne opened her eyes, she reached for her cell. Her brilliant plan to keep her relationship with Ben alive was simple—text him whenever she had a moment of Yvonne time. Granted, that would be rare throughout the day, so she had to be strategic.

Another hurdle—Chet would be by her side all day, learning the ropes, meeting key people, and probably watching her like a hawk. She knew he still had feelings for her, but that ship had sailed. That meant her chances of actually talking to Ben were slim to none.

She sat on the side of the bed, stretching for a moment before grabbing her phone.

“Who’s the sexiest spook I know?

The text bubbles popped up. Ben was on his texting game this morning.

“You know a lot of spooks?

She chuckled, enjoying the banter.

“Only one, I think.”

“Good to know. Then, on behalf of the only spook you know, I can honestly say that he’s holding together, but missing you.”

Yvonne smiled.

“Likewise. I wish we could be together.”

A pause. A little too long.

“Tommy knows about us.”

Yvonne frowned a little before she typed her reply.

“That’s okay. Tommy is a close friend, and he’ll protect me.”

“I wish I could be sure of him. Can you trust him?”

“With my life.”

A longer pause.

“Good to know. Did I tell you he threatened mine?”

Her stomach tightened. What the hell did Tommy say to Ben?

“Tommy’s as loyal as they come. What did you do to provoke that response?”

“Fucked him over in Afghanistan and Iran. I apologized, but I don’t think he’s forgiven me.”

Yvonne exhaled through her nose, running a hand through her hair. She knew exactly how Tommy worked.

“Don’t do that again. He’s not someone you fuck over twice.”

Ben took longer to reply this time, and she could almost picture him hesitating, debating whether to push the subject further.

“Understood. I’m trying to be friends with him, but he’s not biting.”

“He doesn’t forget, and he rarely forgives. You’ll have a hard time climbing out of that hole.”

Ben delayed his response.

“Noted. I’ll win him over or die trying, lol.”

She didn’t laugh. He wasn’t getting it.

“You know what he does, better than most. Don’t even joke about that.”

Ben paused again. Message received.

“Understood.”

From the kitchen, she heard Roy singing to himself, the sound of pans clinking as he prepared breakfast.

“I have to go. I’ll text later as soon as I get a chance.”

She expected a quick goodbye, but Ben typed on.

“You realize we suck at breaking this off, right? This isn’t typically how breakups happen.”

“Apologies. Would you prefer the other way?”

Ben responded very quickly.

“No. No. Forget I said anything. I’ll try to hold it together until our next secret texting session. Missing you till then.”

“You’ll be fine, Vipond. Miss you, too.”

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, thumb hovering over the message. Then, with a quiet sigh, she locked her phone and stood.

She wanted to believe this could work.

That the distance wouldn’t break them.

That she wasn’t making a mistake.

She had to believe it. Otherwise, what the hell was she doing?

Shaking off the thought, she grabbed a towel and headed for the shower.

By the time she reached the kitchen, she’d forced her mind back into work mode. She pushed Ben, Tommy, and all of it aside.

For now.

She slid into her chair, spotting the glass of orange juice waiting for her. Roy always knew what she needed before she did. “You’re spoiling me.”

Roy flipped a pancake onto a plate with practiced ease.

“Roy, after we move to the residence on Saturday, you won’t have to cook anymore.”

“But I like to cook, and I love doing the marketing, Yvonne.”

“Make friends with the babe in the kitchen,” said Chet. “She might let you stir one of her pots once in a while.”

“Amusing, Chet. The chef might not be a babe. He might be of the male persuasion.”

Kamps gave Roy a thumbs up. “Even better. If that’s true, you’ll be spending a lot more time in the kitchen, won’t you?”

“Don’t be making crude sexual innuendos in front of the vice president, Chet.”

“I’m just Yvonne when we’re at home. I need that. It will be different at work.”

Chet loosened the knot in his red tie so he could swallow. “No way I can wear a fuckin’ suit every day to the fuckin’ West Wing.”

“All of your distinguished colleagues will be wearing suits,” said Roy. “Get used to looking your best at all times. There may be press dogging you and taking your picture for the Washington Post.”

“Jesus, Roy, I hope that’s bullshit. I’m not getting used to it. I’ll wear a suit when I have to go somewhere with Yvonne but not when I’m working at our new crib.”

Yvonne nodded. “You won’t have to wear a suit at home, Chet. There will be many days where you can wear jeans and a sweatshirt or whatever you like.”

Roy looked a bit pouty. “If I’m not shopping and cooking, what will I do all day at the new place, Yvonne?”

There it was. The real question.

She set down her glass, studying him for a second.

Roy loved structure, and he loved taking care of people. It gave him a sense of purpose and showed how he defined himself. She knew he’d been struggling with the idea of change, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“I’m sure there will be dozens of things for you to do there, Roy. I’ve been to that house several times and the property is gorgeous. You can jog or swim or work out in the gym. I’m sure you can have a vegetable garden if you want one.”

“I would love a bigger garden, Yvonne. And maybe Chet’s idea isn’t so bad, although his logic is wrong. Maybe I will ask to help in the kitchen occasionally. I would love to learn from a proper chef. Don’t worry, Vonnie. No secret love affairs, I promise.”

Yvonne grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. Secret love affairs can be fun and dangerous. Never say never, Roy.”

They both silently stared at Yvonne for a moment.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that, Roy? And there will be nothing stopping you from growing tomatoes and onions and cilantro and making me that salsa I’m addicted to.”

Roy chuckled, flipping another pancake onto a plate.

Yvonne watched him carefully, her own smile fading just slightly.

She hoped he’d be okay with this transition.

She hoped they’d all be okay.

CIA Headquarters. Langley. Virginia.

Lee gave me a car and a driver to take us down to Langley for my appointment with Ben Vipond.

I figured there would be a hassle at the gate, but my name was on the list. Lukas wasn’t on the visitor list and the guard had to make a call to get approval for him. That pissed my brother off.

An agent met us at the front entrance and escorted us through the building to Ben’s office. The place was crawling with security and special agents, all of them wearing suits, looking important and hiding secrets.

Easy to see which alphabet had the biggest budget. A lot of waste could be cut in this building.

When we reached Ben’s office, his assistant gave us the royal treatment. Big smiles, followed by freshly brewed coffee, warm turnovers, polite small talk, and an invitation to sit in the inner sanctum.

I didn’t like it.

The extra hospitality put me on alert. Ben was about to ask me to do something fucking horrendous.

The head man jumped up from his desk and shook my hand and then he shook Lukas’ hand but didn’t seem overjoyed to see him.

“I wasn’t expecting your brother to be with you, Tommy.” He turned to Lukas, “What’s your clearance level, Lukas?”

Lukas shrugged and I could tell he was pissed enough to clock Ben in the head. “The prez said I was good to go with anything you had to say.”

“Uh huh.” Ben seemed temporarily stunned. “Okay then, Lukas. That’s good enough for me, but I’ll have to verify your status officially.”

I didn’t miss the moment of doubt—the flicker in Ben’s expression before he covered it up.

“Go for it,” snapped Lukas. Sparks flew. The air between Ben and my brother was electric.

“Question, Tommy.”

Ben purposely switched his attention from Lukas, giving me a measured look. “I need to ask why you changed from working solo to working with your brother.”

Lukas jumped out of his chair, his eyes flashing anger mixed with hate. On his feet and pointing a finger at Vipond’s chest, he hollered, “Because he got shot in the head trying to get out of Afghanistan and that’s on you, Director Ben-dick, for fuckin’ him over on his exfil. If I were you, I’d thank the good Lord you’re even breathing right now.”

The room went silent.

To his credit, Ben didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem to react.

He simply nodded, voice calm. “You’re right, Lukas. I was an absolute dick to your brother and left him for dead. Back then, I was willing to accept that as collateral damage. I have since realized how wrong I was, and I hope you and your brother can forgive me. I feel guilt every day, knowing Tommy isn’t over his head wound.”

Lukas’ hands clenched into fists. “Might never be,” he muttered.

I took a moment to decide if I wanted to let Lukas loose on Ben. It wasn’t a fair fight, and we wouldn’t walk out of here, but old Benny Boy deserved a sound thrashing. Instead, I exhaled through my nose, rubbing at my temple.

Great start to a meeting, but enough of this bullshit.

I gently pulled on Lukas’s shirt, guiding him back to his chair.

Lukas sat back down, his body still tight with anger.

That’s when I noticed Ben’s hand let go of something beneath his desk.

Tricky fucker.

“What do you want me to do, Ben? Tell me what’s so fuckin’ important I can’t go home to my kids.”

Ben leaned forward to tell us one of Spookville’s best kept secrets. This wasn’t about us anymore. This was business.

“I have absolute solid intel on an assassination about to happen to one of our strongest allies.”

“Okay. Who’s going to get knocked off?”

“President Rafael Cervantes.”

My head hurt when I heard Ben say the name.

“You’re frowning like you have a headache, Tommy. You okay?”

“Thought I recognized that name, boss.”

“Cervantes?” Ben raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You know the president of Argentina?”

“No, but I’ve heard that name before. Just say’n.”

“Okay. Could be a common Spanish name.”

I exhaled slowly, then chuckled. “Probably some chica in a bar, you know? One night stand, and all that.”

Ben chuckled. “You’re one up on me there, Tommy.”

He bought it, for now. Lukas didn’t bat an eye, but I think he put it together.

Ben held up a folder on his desk. “You ready for a light briefing? Not all the info, obviously, until you commit.”

I leaned forward. “Lay it all on us, Ben. Lukas will listen in case I miss something important.”

Ben studied me for a second longer, then nodded. “Are you saying you’ll take the job?”

“Send the package to Blacky and make sure he’s good with it. The Agency has to officially loan me to you guys.”

“I know the way it works and realize the legalities involved, Tommy. It will all be handled the proper way. Don’t worry about that. I’m happy you’re agreeing to do the job.”

“I don’t specialize in preventing an assassination unless it’s coming at the boss, but I’m up for it if Argentina is one of our allies.”

Ben smiled. “I’m confident you can save a life, Tommy, and prevent a coup by the wrong people. We have a lot going on in Argentina and we can’t afford to lose them as a friendly.”

“Try our best, right, Lukas?”

“Consider it done.”

“I like your attitude, Lukas,” said Ben.

The second Ben said his name, Lukas lunged. He grabbed Ben’s letter opener and dove across the desk, yanking the director forward by the tie. With the opener at Ben’s throat, Lukas rumbled. “Don’t try fuckin’ us over this time.”

Ben sucked in a sharp breath. His composure cracked for the first time. “It will never happen again. You have my word.”

Lukas grinned, but there was nothing friendly about it.

I gave Ben a wave and a grin, then steered my brother out of the office.

His heart beating triple time in his chest, Ben watched the Donovan brothers leave his office.

Fuck, now I have two Donovans wanting to kill me.

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Lee was having the best day of his term as president. He had delegated several significant concerns to Yvonne and reprioritized smaller ones, making his day far more manageable.

He continued on a high throughout the day and when he had a free half hour between appointments, he called Yvonne, Kamps and Carter Levalley into the Oval Office.

The four of them sat in the seating area for an informal meeting and went over the president’s priority list.

Lee leaned back, tapping his yellow pad, surveying them. “There are several things that have to be dealt with immediately, Yvonne, but we need to prioritize and make sure we’re on the same page.”

Yvonne opened her mouth to respond, but Carter jumped in.

“I can take care of them for you, sir,” he said smoothly as his gaze flicked briefly toward Yvonne. He sat a little straighter. His voice held an edge of forced confidence, the kind that came from a man desperate to assert himself.

Yvonne didn’t react. She didn’t have to.

Lee scowled at his Chief of Staff. “Excuse me, Carter, but I was speaking with my vice president.”

When the president had named Yvonne the senior advisor to the president—a role invented for her—Carter felt he had to fight to protect his turf. In his mind, giving her equal status to his Chief of Staff position was a mistake, one that should have been rectified long ago.

But she wasn’t in that role anymore. She was officially the Vice President of the United States.

Big difference.

Lee’s eyebrows lifted. He fixed Carter with a steady, neutral stare.

“I haven’t told you what the tasks are or what’s involved, Carter. That’s what I’m trying to sort out.”

Carter hesitated.

Just for a moment.

Then he gave a tight nod, adjusting his cufflinks like he was trying to brush off the misstep.

Kamps leaned forward, effortlessly confident. Unlike Carter, he didn’t need to posture.

“Sounds like you might need more information to come to an informed decision, sir.” He adjusted the sleeve of his new suit, still getting used to the fit. “If you can give me an hour or so, I can take a deep dive and provide more details. Maybe that’ll make it easier to solve the problems.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “You can get me that kind of information in an hour?”

“Possibly, sir, depending on the complexity of the issues and what kind of information you require.” Kamps sat back, hands resting loosely on his knees, utterly unbothered by Carter’s presence. “In my experience, there are a few simple queries that can get to the heart of most problems. I wrote an algorithm that does the heavy lifting, though I still have to feed it prompts depending on what it finds.”

Carter scoffed.

“An algorithm?” He barely kept the sneer out of his voice. “Sir, with all due respect, I think human analysis would be more reliable. We don’t govern by machine.”

Yvonne glanced at Carter then, a subtle flick of her eyes.

Not angry. Not defensive.

Just assessing.

Kamps, for his part, didn’t even blink at Carter’s comment. He’d faced down drug lords and gun-toting thugs, so some uppity wannabe politician was no threat.

“Machines don’t have biases,” he said, completely matter-of-fact. “People do.”

The statement landed heavily.

Carter opened his mouth, ready to argue, then shut it again, choosing instead to take a measured sip of water. After, he slouched back on the couch, folding his arms like a child.

Lee hid a smirk, then glanced again at Kamps.

Damned good acquisition, but Carter’s getting to be a handful.

He ripped the page off his yellow legal pad and handed it to Chet.

“I’m all for solving problems the easy way, Chet. If your system works, I’m happy to have the help. One hour, you say?”

“If I hit a snag, I might have to text you for additional parameters. Would that be okay?”

“Absolutely, Mister Kamps. If it makes my life easier, I’m all for it.”

Carter’s scowl deepened.

Kamps took the page without hesitation. Didn’t even acknowledge Carter.

“I’ll see what I can find, sir.”

Lee smiled. “Wonderful. That gives me time for a coffee before my next appointment.” He stood up and gestured for everyone to leave, clearly pleased with how quickly the meeting wrapped up.

He glanced at Yvonne. “This job will be so much easier now that you and Mister Kamps are in place.”

Yvonne just smiled.

Carter pushed past, scowling as he left.

He didn’t bother to apologize.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Me and Lukas spent the afternoon prepping for our op in Argentina.

The CIA dropped off the gear and ordnance we requested at the Residence, which was kinda weird. Pissed off Daniel somethin’ fierce, and he got even more pissed when Lukas and me started tearing into it right there in the foyer.

With a look of annoyance, Daniel watched. “Please mind the marble floor, gentlemen. It would be a travesty if it got marred by your…weaponry.”

I gave Daniel a smile and a thumbs-up. “Sorry, Daniel. We’ll be super careful.”

Daniel stood back and watched.

Lukas looked up from his gear bag. “Shit, bro. We’re gonna need a change of clothes for this trip. What’re we gonna do?”

Neither Lukas nor I brought many clothes for the swearing in, just enough for overnight. Turned out we would need clothes for longer than that, so we did laundry.

When we were as ready as we could be, we sat with Ted in the family room, watched a game and tossed back a few beers.

When Lee came upstairs at the end of his workday, he poured himself a bourbon over ice and joined us.

“How was your meeting with Ben Vipond, boys?”

Lee was goin’ on another fishing trip. I could sense it already. “About as good as you’d expect, boss.”

Lee swished the bourbon around in his glass, trying to look casual. “I received a call from him today. He was asking about Lukas’ clearance level. I had it officially raised, so you shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“Thanks, Lee,” Lukas said.

“Ben didn’t mention where he was sending you boys. Anywhere exciting?”

I sighed. Here we go. “Boss, you know you should be getting this info from your CIA director, right?”

Lee gripped his tumbler tightly. “I do.”

“Then is it really fair to ask me to spill the beans? I wanna tell you, but if you needed to know, he would’ve told you.”

Lee’s face contorted. “Like Colombia?”

“I think you taught him how wrong he was on that one, boss.”

Lee downed his bourbon and walked over to pour another. “I get the need for mission secrecy, Tommy, but I’m the goddamn president, and I should be made aware.”

“What if I said that you have nothin’ to worry about?”

Lee sneered. “As President, shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”

“Boss, when you surround yourself with good people, you should trust that they have your best interests at heart.”

“I’ll answer five questions. I’ll answer honestly if I can, and hopefully, it’ll put this to rest.”

“Fine. Am I in danger?”

“No,” I said, chugging my beer.

“Are you killing Russians again?”

“No clue. Hopefully, I’m killin’ no one.”

Lee looked at me, puzzled. “Really? No, wait—that doesn’t count as my question. Where are you going?”

“South America. Best info you’re gonna get on location, boss.”

“Why can you not tell me the details?”

“Because they aren’t mine to tell, boss. Ben Vipond is your director, and you should be asking him.”

“Is the U.S. in danger?”

Tricky one. “Not directly.”

Lee threw his arms up in frustration. “If it’s something affecting this country, then I have the right to know.”

“You’re right, Lee. If something is directly affecting this country, you should know.”

Lee got a little red in the face. “I’m not playing any of your vague games, Tommy. The humor has gone out of this for me.”

“I ain’t being funny, boss. This op has nothing to do with you, or the US. Something else entirely.”

“The Secretary of State is going to a conference in Buenos Aires. Are you going with him? Don’t lie to me, Tommy.”

“I ain’t lying, boss, but you’re mad at the wrong guy. You’ve got a guy who’s in charge of this, and it ain’t me.”

“Vipond keeps giving me the same bullshit runaround you’re giving me now.” Lee stood silently for a moment. He wasn’t the only one sick of this.

Lukas rolled his eyes, and Lee noticed.

“Something to add, Ranger Donovan?”

Lukas’s gaze darted my way, and I gestured for him to go ahead. Lukas didn’t talk much, so if he had somethin’ to say, it’d be good to listen.

“It’s just that you’ve done this before, sir, and it goes nowhere. You want Tommy, a patriot who’s trying to do the right thing, to tell you details he’s not authorized to talk about. You’re our president. No one’s denying that. But if you’re not in the loop, there’s probably a good reason. Hounding Tommy about it, isn’t fair to him. It needs to stop.”

Lee stared at Lukas. “I appreciate your honesty, Lukas. Thank you. And Tommy—I apologize.”

“No problem, boss. You know damned well why I don’t like you knowing shit. I don’t want it blowing up in your face later.”

“I appreciate you trying to protect me, Tommy, but I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir, you do, but I’m not the guy to tell you.”

Lukas went to the bar fridge for another beer.

Lee walked to the bar and refilled his glass with bourbon. He was beyond pissed. “I’m so glad we had this chat.”

At dinner, Lee was fairly quiet. Still sulking. Me and Lukas ate the roast beef and mostly talked to Ted. No more questions from Lee. He knew we were right, but he wanted us to tell him anyway.

If he knew about Argentina, he’d get all in a fizz and be phoning people and putting people on alert and doing all kinds of shit that would send up red flags. The op wouldn’t be covert if Lee knew about it and he could easily spoil any chances we had of grabbing the assassin before he got the job done.

When dinner was over and the boys went to watch a game, Lee went into his home office and called Jesse Quantrall.

“Lee, I was about to call you for any last-minute inspiration you had for the summit meeting.”

“Sadly, I don’t have much to offer, Jesse. I’m leaving all the smooth negotiations in your hands."

Jesse laughed. “My Spanish isn’t top of the ladder, but I hope I can get by.”

“I’m sure you can. Something else is bothering me.”

“Sure, what can I help with?”

“Tommy and Lukas are leaving on an op in the morning and refuse to tell me where. Tommy does this occasionally. He says it’s for my protection. I thought they’d be going with you, but all Tommy would say is they’re going somewhere in South America, and it doesn’t directly affect the U.S.”

“That’s interesting, but they’re not coming with me, Lee. This is only a summit conference, so I don’t need that level of protection. My DSS team is more than capable of keeping me safe.”

“Okay. I just thought I’d ask. Thanks.”

Lee wasn’t giving up. Next he tried Ben Vipond at home. Should’ve been his first call.

“Mister President, what can I do for you?”

“I know about your meeting with Marshal Donovan this morning and I’d like a little more information on the op you’ve given them.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give you that information at the present time. This is strictly an out-of-country operation and I’m handling it.”

“I understand.”

“If everything works out, I’m sure you can use it as political leverage. But if it doesn’t, you want plausible deniability.”

“Ben, I gotta tell you—I’m getting sick of these missions. As president, I should know.”

“I understand, sir. But all I ask is that you trust me. This isn’t like Colombia, sir. I promise you.”

Furious, Lee tried Director Dunnett, and he knew even less. His last resort was Yvonne. He’d try her and then give up. He couldn’t remember being this annoyed with Tommy...ever.

“Yvonne, sorry to bother you at home, but Tommy and Lukas are deploying tomorrow morning, and I’d like to know more about where they’re going and what they are doing.”

“What did Tommy say, sir?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem. He keeps saying it’s in my best interest not to be involved, but as the president, I feel I should know. I hate being kept in the dark. Am I not supposed to be running things?”

Yvonne heard the desperation in Lee’s voice. He was mentally spinning out of control and needed her help. “I don’t know anything about it, Lee, but let me make a call.”

“Thanks so much, Yvonne. I can always depend on you.”

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Ben stood in a mental fog, watching the microwave timer tick down. Two minutes.

Lately, heating up leftovers had become the story of his life—a monotonous loop of long hours, exhaustion, and cold, empty nights. He really missed Yvonne.

The trilling of his cell phone pulled him out of his numbing stupor.

He blinked, checking the caller ID.

It was her.

For a second, he considered letting it ring. Then he sighed and picked up.

“Yvonne, should you be calling me?”

“Business call. Totally above board.”

Ben huffed a quiet laugh. “Fine. But for the record, I still miss you and want you to come sleep over.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, despite herself, Yvonne giggled.

“Me too,” she admitted. “But I need you to focus for a second.”

Ben smiled, but the emotional exhaustion still weighed on him like a lead vest.

“What’s up?”

“Lee called. Pissed. He’s mad that he doesn’t know about Tommy’s mission tomorrow.”

Ben exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Of course he’s pissed.”

“He still believes he should know everything. Be involved in everything. He wants to know where Tommy’s going and why.”

Ben chuckled dryly. “You know I can’t tell you that, babe.”

His voice softened, but his resolve didn’t.

“Trust me—keeping Lee out of this is for the best.”

Yvonne hesitated, just for a second. She almost slipped into aggressive mode but couldn’t do it with Ben.

“I get it,” she said finally. “But if it’s not one of Tommy’s usual missions, can’t you at least give Lee a breadcrumb?”

Ben set his forgotten dinner aside, his fingers tightening around the phone.

“Yvonne, you know how this works,” he said. “When it comes to Tommy, Lee gets too involved.”

“Is it that bad?” Yvonne asked.

He leaned against the counter, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the past.

“I have operatives stationed all over the world—missions running in multiple countries at any given time. But Lee? He only ever focuses on Tommy.”

A humorless chuckle escaped him.

“I get it. They’re close. Hell, they’re practically family. But his interference?” He shook his head. “It makes it damn hard to maintain secrecy. And focus. And keep Tommy alive.”

Yvonne sighed on the other end of the line.

“I get it,” she said. “But you also know where his frustration comes from.”

Ben closed his eyes for a moment.

“I know.” His voice was quieter now. “I know it’s because he cares.”

Silence hung between them. Heavy. Unspoken.

Then, finally, Ben sighed again.

Confession time.

“I screwed Lee over in Colombia,” he said. “I know I did. I put him in a position where he couldn’t trust me. But that will never happen again. And I need him to believe that.”

“Lee can be a bulldog,” Yvonne said, a note of dry amusement in her voice.

Ben smirked. “I’ve noticed.”

“Sadly, it’s not when he needs to be,” she added, more serious now. “But I might be able to change that.”

“Yeah?”

“Usually, it’s over something trivial that sets him off.”

Ben huffed another dry laugh. “No shit.”

A brief pause.

Yvonne’s voice softened.

“What do you want me to tell him?”

Ben hesitated.

Tell him nothing.

Tell him everything.

But instead, he kept it simple.

“Tell him the truth,” he said finally. “Tommy is safe. He’s not doing his usual work. And if the mission needs Lee’s attention, we’ll loop him in.”

Yvonne didn’t answer immediately. He could hear the hesitation. Finally, she let out a slow breath.

“Thanks, Ben. That sounds reasonable.”

Ben nodded to himself, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah.”

Yvonne’s voice dropped a little, almost playful again.

“I’ll text you when I get ready for bed.”

Ben smiled.

“Can’t wait.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

I headed up to my room to get some rest before the mission.

All of my clean clothes were folded neatly in stacks on my bed. Alfie was already curled up on the rug beside me, his usual spot.

As I packed, I remembered one last call I needed to make.

I grabbed my phone and dialed.

“Hey, Blacky. Sorry to call so late. Hope I didn’t wake anyone up.”

He sounded tired. “Kids are sound asleep. We’re watching the news. What’s up, Tommy?”

“Did you take a look at the mission dossier? I’m heading out tomorrow morning and thought you woulda called by now.”

“Shit, no. Sorry. Got it late today. Been running around with the kids. I was gonna review it when Misty went to bed.” I could hear Blacky getting up and moving. “Figured it must be a decent op if you’ve already given the CIA permission to talk to me.”

A faint rustling of papers came over the line.

“I have the file here. Let’s see… Buenos Aires… thwart an assassination… good… Wait.”

Silence.

Then—

“Fuck me—Rafael?”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Know him?”

A longer silence. Then Blacky’s voice, lower now.

“He’s my cousin.”

A sharp breath. His voice lost its usual steady control.

“It feels like I just congratulated him on becoming the president of Argentina.”

I let that sit for a second before answering. “I figured there might be a connection.”

I heard the rustle of more papers, the shifting of weight. Then, a door closed.

When Blacky spoke, there was tension in his voice. “Is this serious?”

“Assassination attempts usually are.”

“Fuck, of course. Sorry. Dumb question. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

A sharp exhale. Then Blacky’s voice, clipped and determined. “I’ll talk to Mom, borrow her jet and meet you guys in D.C. We’ll go down together.”

Blacky isn’t thinking straight.

“Negative, boss. You should meet us there, but I wanna be clear—this is my mission. If you want to participate, then you’re an asset, following my lead. Copy?”

Silence for only a moment. Then, a quiet curse on the other end of the line. “Copy that.”

“I’ll text you our location when we land, and you should do the same.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Mom’s jet⁠—”

“Negative. Fly commercial. You’re on vacation or something. No guns. We’ll set you up when you get down there.”

“You’re right. I’ll make my way down there and text you when I land. I’ll book a room in the same hotel, too.”

“Now you’re thinking, boss.”

His voice was tighter now, edged with something close to anger. “Thanks for bringing this to my attention. I can’t believe I almost missed this. I should have been paying more attention.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it.

“No way, Blacky. You were with family. Nothin’ more important, my man.”

A long pause. Then Blacky exhaled.

“…Copy that. And thanks again for the heads-up, Tommy.”

I nodded. “Always got your back, boss. See you there.”

I hung up.

For a second, I just sat there, phone still in my hand.

This mission just got very personal, which turned a routine op into something else entirely.

Alfie stirred on the rug, stretching in his sleep.

I glanced at my bag. Almost packed. Almost ready.

I hope we’re not flyin’ into a fuckin’ shitshow.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Friday, January 10th.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

I was up at six and took Alfie out for a run. He wasn’t keen on going for walks with White House staff people he didn’t know. He growled and gave them a hard time. Gave them hell. Scared them.

Reminded me of Lukas.

Lukas and I were both showered and dressed, all packed up and ready to leave before we sat down for breakfast at seven. Our gear was stacked in the foyer.

Lee sat at the head of the table still pissed at me. I didn’t need him to say it. I could feel it in the air.

Lukas and I talked to Ted, but Ted kept trying to loop Lee in. No luck. He wasn’t having it.

I stood up to leave but felt bad.

I sighed. “Boss, we need to clear the air before I head out. I’d hate to come back and find out you stewed on this the entire time I was gone.”

Lee looked at me, eyes sharp. “You wanna fix this? Fine. Either you trust me, or you don’t.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. “You’re right. This is about trust, but it’s not on my side, boss. It’s on you.”

Lee slammed his chair back and stood.

“What the hell does that mean?”

I shrugged. “Pretty simple. You don’t trust me to do my job.”

His eyes narrowed.

“When you know my mission, you try to talk me out of it. Or—worse—you start making calls, trying to ‘help.’ But in your rush to keep me safe, you tell people about my secret op. And when you do that, it’s not secret for long.”

Lee’s hands curled into fists. “That’s a load of⁠—”

I cut him off with a raised hand.

“You’ve done it before, boss. And it turned a simple job into a goddamn mess. Almost got me killed. I appreciate it when I call you from the field and you help me, no questions asked. Otherwise, you gotta trust me.”

That shut him up.

A long, heavy silence.

Lee’s expression was unreadable. “I’m not sure if that explanation makes me feel better or worse, Tommy.”

“You keep forgetting that this country is what I care most about, boss. Not political parties—red, blue, or fuckin’ green—not what you or Vipond or Granddad think is best. I care about what is best for our country when all the crap and politics are scraped away. That’s what I go by. Always have and sometimes you don’t agree.”

Lee’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue.

I stepped forward. “We don’t have to agree. For instance, you care about how things look for the White House. ‘Optics’, you called it once. I don’t give a shit about that.”

Lee stared at me. “You say you trust me. But I feel like you don’t.” He took a beat. Then, calm and cold, he said it. “Obviously, you don’t trust me, which gives me pause about our relationship.”

“Trust goes both ways, boss.”

“In light of where I live, perhaps you shouldn’t stay here anymore.”

I was dumbfounded.

My chest tightened.

I stared at him. For a moment, I thought about saying something—anything—to fix this.

Instead, I nodded once, whistled for Alfie and tapped Lukas’s shoulder.

“Done deal, boss. Let’s saddle up, boys. We’re fuckin’ outta here.”

And like that, we were gone.

Joint Base Andrews. Maryland.

Ben had a driver waiting for me and Lukas in the White House parking lot to take us to Andrews. The agent helped us load up and even opened the door for Alfie. Brownie points.

The Secretary of State used Air Force Two when he was on a business trip, and Jesse was sitting in the cabin when Lukas and I took our seats.

Alfie laid down next to me and curled up.

“I wasn’t sure if you boys were hitching a ride with me or not. Lee called and asked me questions and I wasn’t sure what I should be telling him.”

“We’re on loan to Vipond, and since the Colombia thing, Lee’s watching Ben real close.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow waiting for me to tell him the rest of the story. “Ben thinks there might be trouble for the president of Argentina and we’re going to try to prevent it. Blacky is meeting us there.”

“Blacky is coming to Buenos Aires? That’s a surprise.”

“El presidente is his cousin, Rafael.”

“Cervantes,” said Jesse. “I didn’t make the connection, but now it makes sense. Blacky’s biological family. Of course. Let me know if I can help you boys in any way.”

“Thanks, boss. You’ll be right in the middle of it at the conference and your safety is a concern now that we know there might be trouble. Just be aware of what’s going on around you.”

“I understand. Glad to have you guys watching my back.”

“Copy that, boss.”

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Lee sat at his desk, staring at nothing.

The morning briefing had started fifteen minutes ago, but his mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere over the Atlantic.

Carter and Yvonne were going over the day’s agenda, but Lee barely heard them. He kept losing track, forgetting names, forgetting what the hell they were even discussing.

Yvonne finally stopped, frowning. “What’s wrong, Lee? You look pale. Are you coming down with something?”

Lee shook his head. “Nothing like that.” His voice was quiet, distant. “Just a personal matter. I’d rather not discuss it.”

Yvonne exchanged a glance with Carter but didn’t push.

The conversation resumed, but Lee couldn’t focus.

Kamps listened and made notes for future use on each of the people and the issues or causes they represented. He knew nobody in D.C. and had to play catch up in a hurry in order to be of any use to Lee’s administration.

He wasn’t just catching up.

He was watching. Studying. Gathering intel.

And not just for Lee.

For Tommy.

When the briefing finally wrapped up, Carter left, looking smug about whatever new task Lee had thrown at him.

Lee exhaled and turned to Yvonne and Kamps.

“Do you think Tommy’s head injury has changed him?”

The shift in conversation was jarring but expected.

“I’m not sure if he’s changed in any way, but he’s still suffering from the skull fracture. He has headaches that are debilitating. I know that for a fact. And I wouldn’t doubt that being left for dead in the Middle East would change how you view… everything.”

Lee’s gaze flicked to Chet. “What about you? You know Tommy well.”

Chet hesitated.

Lee caught it. “Speak freely, Chet.”

Chet took a slow breath. “It starts with how Tommy feels he was abandoned.”

Lee tensed. “Surely he can’t blame me for⁠—”

Chet held up a hand.

The President of the United States fell silent.

“Sir, you asked for honesty. So here it is.” Chet’s voice was low, steady, but unflinching. “He begged for an exfil. No one came. Then he got shot in the head. And even after that, it was Lukas who saved him. Not the government. Not the people who sent him there.”

Lee’s stomach twisted.

Chet let it sit.

Then, quieter, “Tommy doesn’t trust easily anymore. And I can’t say I blame him.”

Silence.

Yvonne’s voice was soft. “Lee?”

Lee exhaled. Shaky. Unsteady.

“If he’s still concussed, then I’m betting he’s not supposed to be flying, is he?”

Chet didn’t answer right away. Then, finally⁠—

“No, sir.”

Lee’s hands curled into fists.

Yvonne whispered, “Oh my God.”

Lee closed his eyes. “Is Lukas aware?”

“Of course, sir. They trust each other.”

Tommy, what the hell have I done?

CIA Headquarters. Langley. Virginia.

Ben wanted to call Tommy to see if he was on his way to Argentina, but Tommy’s cell would be on flight mode. Instead, he sent a text to Yvonne telling her how much he was missing her. He was focused on the screen waiting for a reply when the president called again.

Jesus. Again, Lee?

“Good morning, Director Vipond. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Of course not, sir. How can I help you?”

“I wanted to apologize for pressing you for details on Marshal Donovan’s mission. From now on I’ll be staying out of things that are clearly your concern and not mine.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Ben stared at his phone surprised by the president’s apology. “Something is going on with Lee and Tommy. Wish I knew what it was. Is it about Lukas? That guy is right on the edge. He’s dangerous.”

His cell signaled a text, and it was Yvonne this time.

“Missing you too.”

Ben smiled and went back to work.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Yvonne and Kamps got home from the White House, both tired after a long day working alongside the president. “A day working with Lee can wear you out,” said Yvonne.

“I’m finding that out,” said Kamps. “He’s right about one thing, babe. He definitely needs you to take part of his workload. He’s going from one job to the next, one appointment to the next, and not finishing anything. I can only imagine how bad it’s been.”

“Been that way for a while now. He can’t cope any longer and it’s distressing.” She got two beers from the fridge and sat down with Chet.

Roy set dinner on the table and joined Vonnie and Chet. He took a sip of wine and smiled. “Are we finishing the packing after dinner?”

Vonnie set her beer down. “We don’t need to take everything right now. As long as we have what we need, I’m sure we can have the rest brought over later. Honestly, from what I understand, this is the slowest move in vice president history.”

They chuckled.

“We’ll get as much as we can stacked in the foyer tonight,” said Yvonne. “The movers will come early tomorrow morning.”

“I’m so excited for our new house, Yvonne.”

“You’re going to love it, Roy.” She smiled at Chet. “We all will.”

Ministro Pistarini Airport. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

After an eleven-hour flight—nine and a half of it spent trying not to bleed out my nose and ears and puking five different times in the tiny bathroom—we finally landed at the fuckin’ airport.

Couldn’t wait to get off the plane, and neither could Lukas. He just kept gettin’ madder and madder. First, the flight was too fuckin’ long for him. Then, I was a goddamn mess and kept pukin’.

He wasn’t the best at handling my pain.

I figured he’d be hooking us up with chutes and we’d be jumping out the back door.

Jesse shook his head. “A very long and difficult flight for you, Tommy. Should you be flying?”

I shook my head. “No, boss. I’m in the no-fly zone for a while, but we didn’t have time to drive to Argentina.”

“I don’t think you should be working, son.”

“He shouldn’t,” said Lukas. “It fuckin’ kills him.”

Jesse looked at me with concern, but after a moment, he turned back to my brother. “Well, he’ll never stop, so you’ll have to watch out for him, Lukas.”

“Copy that, sir.”

Blaine arrived a half hour ahead of Air Force Two, but he decided to stay at the airport and wait for our plane to touch down. Putting in time, he rented a vehicle then sat in the terminal coffee shop catching up on his emails.

Jesse was happy to see Blacky waiting for him when he arrived and gave him a hug. “The embassy is supposed to send somebody to pick me up. Have you seen anyone holding up my name?” He laughed.

Blaine pointed. “There’s a limo parked right over there, boss, flying the Argentinian flag. Probably for you.”

“Thanks,” said Jesse. “Can we talk tomorrow? I want to know what’s going on with your cousin.”

“No details yet,” said Blaine, “but I’ll know more by morning. I’ll keep you in the loop, boss. Watch your phone.”

“Appreciate it, kiddo.”

With Alfie on his leash, we walked Jesse to the limo and saw him safely inside, then Blaine pointed to the rental, and we loaded our gear. I jumped into the back seat with Alfie and Lukas took the front.

“Our hotel confirmation and all that stuff is in my bag,” said Tommy. “You can stay with us, boss. Me and Lukas can double up. CIA is paying the hotel bill.”

“I have a family house in the city. We might as well stay there,” said Blaine. “I inherited a shit-load of property in Argentina when my father died. City house, compound in the country. I should sell a few places while I’m here.” He laughed.

“Yeah, you should, boss. Give you some walking-around money.”

“I just don’t need property in other countries. More shit to worry about. But this time, the house here in Buenos Aires will come in handy. First time for everything.”

“We can stay with you if you want us to, boss.”

“Yeah, I want you guys with me. Best if we had a base of operations and didn’t have to bother with a hotel downtown. That way, we’re off everyone’s grid. Hard to find, and all that.”

“Sold,” I said.

Blacky punched the address into the GPS and drove into the street. On the way to his house, I hollered to him twice to stop while I hung out the open door and puked on the fuckin’ road.

“Jesus, Tommy,” said Lukas, “you shouldn’t be here. You’re gonna do something to your fuckin’ head and end up fuckin’ dead.”

“Yeah, I feel like that prediction might be coming true, bro. Feel like shit on a stick.”

“You’ve got to get some rest, or you won’t be worth a goddam tomorrow.”

Lukas was getting worked up and I couldn’t let that happen. Something would get busted, or maybe somebody.

“I’ll sleep when we get to Blacky’s house and wake up good as fuckin’ new.”

“Then I have good news for you. We should be there soon,” said Blacky. “Thank God I have GPS. I barely remember where I live. I’ve only been to this house a few times in my life.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

We arrived at Blacky’s house—thanks, Map Lady—punched in the gate code and drove in.

The gate squealed as it opened, a testament to how long it sat unused. Its wrought iron twisted and twirled, guarding a home that no one had lived in for a lifetime. The center of both gates was adorned with a massive, elaborate ‘C’.

“Helluva fuckin’ gate, boss.”

“Came with the house, Tommy. Nothing I installed.”

A wide circular drive put us in front of a three-story house big enough to be a fuckin’ hotel. “I see why we don’t need a hotel, boss. You’ve got one right here.”

“I called the number for the housekeeper and told her we were coming.”

“Jeeze. Do you pay for her for when nobody is here?”

“Yeah, I have to, or the place would be a shithole,” said Blaine.

“Could be true.”

He laughed. “It is true, Tommy. You need to sleep. Your speech is slurred and that means your brain is worn out for today.”

We walked in and lights were on, and it smelled like someone was cooking. Felt like home. Worth the price to keep the place rocking when nobody was there three sixty-three out of three sixty-five.

“Come on in, boys. Mi casa es tu casa.”

“Gracias, bro. Nice of you to let us stay here.”

“You got a bed for him to lie down, Blacky?” asked Lukas.

“Sure. Upstairs. Pick any room.”

“I’ll lie on the sofa until dinner, then I’ll take some Advil and get some solid sleep. Right as rain by morning.”

Blacky walked back into the room with a bottle of Advil and a glass of water. He handed them to Tommy. “You really need a doctor. I’ll ask Florentina where the closest clinic is.”

Tommy dumped some Advil into his hand and washed them down. “They ain’t gonna do nothing for me but give me more drugs, bro.”

“That’s true, but it might be what you need to get you through the mission, Tommy. I’m also going to set up an appointment for you at the Neuro Center once we get back to Austin.”

Lukas glared at his brother, daring him to say no.

Tommy nodded to Blacky. “Okay, ask her.”

Blaine came back from the kitchen with an address written on a slip of paper. “I’ll stay here and call Kamps while you take him to the clinic, Lukas. Try not to be more than an hour. That’s when dinner will be ready.”

“Sure. Come on,” said Lukas. “Let’s get your head examined and get back here for food. I’m fuckin’ starved.”

Lukas and Tommy left for the clinic while Blaine talked to Kamps on the phone. “Have you found out who the shooter is and who sent him to Buenos Aires?”

“My laptop was packed for the move to Observatory Circle tomorrow, but I’ve got it booted up and all I can find is one name. There’s a guy rumored to be in Argentina and he’s a heavy hitter from the UK. Guy named Alex Freemont. Used to be in the British Intelligence Service. Went rogue and he’s working on a pay-as-you-go basis now. Reported to be deadly accurate.”

“Fuck. Any idea who hired him?”

“Working on that, boss.”

“Any description available?”

“Picture, if that helps.”

“Picture is aces. Thanks, Kamps.”

“Sure. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks. Just who he is working for, if you can find out and if any of your street people in Buenos Aires hear a rumor, I’d appreciate you passing it on. I’m good for whatever it costs.”

“I’ll contact my guy down there right away.”

“How’s the White House going?”

“Not as bad as I had imagined. First couple of days and I’m still breathing. I’ll do our stuff at night and on the weekends. Less time to spend on it, but I’ll still get it done, boss.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Big adjustment for me and I’m not into a routine yet. Moving to Yvonne’s official residence tomorrow. Once I settle in there and have my own space, I’ll be a lot better.”

“You’re doing the right thing, Kamps. Yvonne needs you to help her for the next three years and your country needs you.”

“So I keep hearing. Thanks, boss.”

Medical Clinic. Buenos Aires.

It was almost closing time when we got to the clinic. The doctor was with a patient, and I had to wait. The nurse at the front desk asked the nature of my problem, and it was hard to explain.

I leaned on her desk and gave her the quick version. “My head got cracked open by a bullet in Afghanistan. The wound is healed but my head inside ain’t. I’m dizzy and I’m puking.”

“I understand. Skull fractures take a long time to heal. Months. Not much point in taking X-rays at this time. You’ve already been diagnosed and treated, and you know your head will take a long time to heal, so what you’re seeking is temporary relief from your symptoms.”

“Yeah, that’s it, ma’am. I have to work tomorrow, and I can’t work with a headache and be heaving up my guts every ten minutes.”

My conversation with the nurse was all in Spanish—hers better than mine. The last patient came out to pay his bill, and it was my turn.

In rapido Spanish, the nurse told the doctor my problem and he nodded.

“Si.” He unlocked the drug cupboard, looked through his stash of pills and handed me a little bottle. “One in the morning. No more.”

“Gracias.” I paid the bill, and we were done.

Driving back to Blacky’s place, Lukas said, “One pill in the morning. They must be strong little fuckers.”

“Yeah, must be. Right now I feel like taking two.”

“Don’t.”

I laughed at my brother. “I won’t.”

“I’ll be watching you.”

“Figured.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires.

All I wanted to do was sleep when we got back from the clinic, but Blacky had been working while we were gone and had stuff to tell us.

“Kamps found out who the shooter is. He’s a contract hitter from the UK. Alex Freemont.”

“Do we know who hired him?” I asked.

“Nope, but we have a picture of him.”

“A picture is fantastic,” said Lukas. “Makes picking him out of a crowd a lot easier.”

“I made each of you a copy,” said Blacky. “This is Alex Freemont.”

I looked at the guy and he was ordinary. Short hair and a round face. No scars. Nothing to set him apart from anybody else. The picture wasn’t going to help much unless we were close to him.

“Any details on how he intends to pull it off?”

“Nope.” Blacky looked at me and shook his head. “What did the doctor say?”

“Take one pill in the morning,” I said. “That’s it.”

“Huh. Go to bed, Tommy. Get some sleep so you can see straight tomorrow.”

“I’m going upstairs right now.”

I glanced at Alfie and Lukas held up his leash. “We’ll be back in ten.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Saturday, January 11th.

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

I hung tight to the railing and eased my way downstairs, then found my way to the kitchen. I said good morning in Spanish to Florentina, and she poured me a cup of coffee and pointed to the dining room where the table was already set.

She was a beautiful Argentinian lady in her thirties with long black hair and a friendly smile. I was happy I spoke Spanish and could talk to her. I didn’t think she spoke much English.

I sat down, took one of the little white pills out of the bottle and downed it with a swallow of coffee. “Do your job, little pill. I need to see straight today.”

One a day. Doctor’s orders.

Through the glass doors in the dining room I watched Alfie running around Blaine’s huge, fenced acreage. Lukas was out there with him throwing his red ball.

We got ready for breakfast when Blacky came downstairs showered and dressed. His long black hair damp and tied back in a blue bandana. He had made a rough plan for the day. “I’ve printed out the itinerary for the dignitaries coming to the conference,” said Blacky, “just to get an idea of when opportunities will arise for the shooter to have a clear shot at Rafael.” He handed each of us a copy.

“We need to recon the meeting place,” said Lukas.

“Casa Rosada is the workplace of the president,” said Blacky. “Equivalent to the West Wing, although Rafael doesn’t live there like Armstrong does. His residence is the presidential palace, Quinta de Olivos.”

I listened to Blacky talking and my brain started to clear. After taking the one little pill, I felt better. They were strong little fuckers.

A little later when Florentina served breakfast, I was able to eat scrambled eggs and a piece of toast. A big improvement.

Lukas watched me like a hawk and nodded when he saw me finish the toast. I’d thrown up so many times the day before, my gut was sore, and I was completely empty.

“We’ll stop on the way to the recon,” he said. “Pick up a pack of protein drinks and some energy bars.”

Blacky glanced at me and nodded. “Good idea, Lukas.”

American Embassy. Buenos Aires.

After Tommy revealed that there may be an assassination attempt on the president of Argentina, Jesse found himself a little more nervous and on edge than usual in an embassy full of strangers.

He helped himself to coffee and to the lavish breakfast buffet in his honor and sat down at the table with Ambassador Franklin Velasco.

“Wonderful to have you here, Mister Secretary.”

“I’m delighted to participate in this summit conference. So important for both of our nations.”

“Yes, our mutual cooperation is vital in the exploration of Argentina’s vast store of natural resources.”

They chatted on with the Ambo oblivious to the danger ahead for the president. Velasco wouldn’t be attending any of the meetings at Casa Rosada, so he was in no imminent danger of collateral damage. The same was not true for Jesse.

After breakfast, Jesse retired to his room to go over his notes. He sat in an easy chair away from the window trying to remember everything Tommy told him to do and at the same time he tried to focus on his speech for later in the day.

His sat phone rang, and it was Lee Armstrong.

“Jesse, how are things in Argentina?”

“Wonderful so far, Lee. Just finished an enjoyable breakfast with Ambassador Velasco. A highly educated man with high hopes for US relations with Argentina.”

“I’m not sure I’ve met him, but I look forward to it in the future.”

“You’ll like him, sir.”

“Is Tommy with you, Jesse?”

That’s the real reason you’re calling me.

“No. The Ambassador picked me up at the airport and I’m here alone.”

“I just called to wish you luck at the conference later in the day. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I’ll have to tell Tommy Lee is looking for him.

Benton Crescent. Georgetown. D.C.

Roy was up at the crack of dawn, making coffee and cleaning out the fridge, getting ready for the move to Yvonne’s official residence.

He set aside what he needed for breakfast and packed all the rest into the cooler Yvonne bought for the purpose.

Punkin knew something was up and he meowed more than usual. Roy picked him up and hugged him. “Don’t worry, Punkin. We’re moving to our new house, and you’ll like it there. A lot more room to roam around.”

Right after breakfast the movers knocked on the door and Yvonne scurried around making sure she had everything packed that she needed to take with her.

The movers loaded up the boxes and suitcases stacked in the foyer, then came back to see if there was anything else.

“No, I think that’s it for now,” said Yvonne. “Thank you. We’ll be along shortly.”

Yvonne closed the door and let out a long breath. “They’re gone. Our turn next. Have you guys got everything?”

Kamps nodded. “All my computer stuff is in this bag and my laptop is in my backpack on my back.”

“Roy?” asked Yvonne. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“I’m ready, but Punkin is petrified, and he’s gone into hiding. I can’t find him to put him in his carrier.”

“Where are his treats?” asked Kamps. “When you rattle the bag, he comes running.”

Roy swatted away a tear. “The treats are in the bag I’m taking with me.”

“Get them,” said Kamps.

“We’ll find him,” said Yvonne. “Don’t get upset, sweet boy.”

Kamps rolled his eyes at that one, Roy being a good ten years older than himself.

Yvonne called from the living room. “Roy, he’s hiding under the sofa.”

Kamps grabbed the bag of treats out of Roy’s hand and rushed into the living room. He shook the treat bag and as soon as the cat heard it, Punkin came running out from under the sofa.

Yvonne grabbed him. “I’ve got him.”

“Open the door of the carrier, Roy,” shouted Kamps.

Roy obeyed and Yvonne shoved the chunky orange furball in and closed the door. “There we go. Take him to the truck, Roy, and give him a treat. We’ll lock up and be out in a minute.”

Roy was cooing to his orange furball, trying to calm him as he carried Punkin’s cage to the SUV. The Secret Service agents tried not to look annoyed at Punkin’s ear-splitting wails of terror.

Yvonne laughed and gave Kamps an unexpected hug. “Here we go. Hope I’m ready.”

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee had the day off—if the president every truly had a day off—but he was wound up like a spring and couldn’t concentrate on work.

Plenty to do in his home office but Lee didn’t feel like tackling any of it. The confrontation with Tommy had him reeling and he wasn’t going to be over it anytime soon. Alienating the one person who protected his administration at all costs was a huge mistake, and one he may not be able to fix easily...if at all.

Ted sensed his brother’s upset and suggested driving out to the vice president’s residence to make sure Yvonne got moved in with no problem.

“That’s a good idea, Ted. I have to get out of here for a while. Too much work and not enough diversion. I’m about to blow apart.”

“I can see that, Lee. You’re upset about the fight with Tommy too.”

“The worst part of that,” said Lee, “is him saying he wouldn’t stay here anymore when he was in D.C.”

Ted exhaled loudly, knowing his next point would annoy his brother. “Technically, you instigated that. You said he shouldn’t stay with you anymore, and he said fine.”

Lee glared at his brother. “Why is that important to point out, Ted?”

“Because you still don’t accept that you’re the main cause of this rift. You can still work it out, but you need to start by accepting what you’re doing.”

“I’m not sure he’ll talk to me again.”

“Of course he will—when he cools off,” said Ted. “We’ll take both dogs with us and give them an outing.”

“A drive to Observatory Circle is just what I need, Ted. Thank you for thinking of it.”

“Yvonne will be happy to see you, Lee. You need to relax and get away from here once in a while.”

“We’ll take one of the SUVs,” said Lee. “I’m not taking the limo and creating a goddamned stir. We’ll end up leading the entire press corps to Yvonne on her moving day, and that’s the last thing I want.”

“We’ll be discrete,” said Ted. “Nobody will know where we’re going except Dan and his guys.”

Casa Rosada. Buenos Aires.

My brain felt a hell of a lot better than it had this morning, but even with a clear head, I couldn’t unravel this puzzle, and even worse—we were running out of time.

Lukas scanned the skyline, the buildings, the canopies.

He saw it, too.

The central plaza was a goddamn sniper’s playground.

Too many rooftops and balconies.

Too many shadows.

Too many places for a killer to hide.

“This is a shitshow,” Lukas spat.

I nodded. “How do we shut this down?”

Lukas exhaled sharply. “We don’t. We can’t. It’s impossible.”

“Give me options.”

“Only one.” His voice was flat. “We take our primary off the chessboard.”

I nodded again. That was the smart play.

Except we both knew the president wasn’t gonna listen.

“Let’s say he ignores us and does everything he plans to do. Then what?”

Lukas shook his head. “You want me to lie to you?”

“Course not.”

“Then he’s dead. Ninety seconds, tops.”

I sighed.

That’s what I thought.

“We need more intel. Let’s go.”

We were headed back and gone barely a block when my sat phone rang.

Vipond.

Great. A babysitting call.

I answered. “Hey, boss.”

“Hey, Marshal, how’s it going in Buenos Aires?”

“Not bad, boss. Just leaving the meeting place after finishing the recon.”

“Great. How does it look?”

“Looks bad, boss. Fuckin’ killing pit. Lots of great spots for a sniper and no time to clear them all before the meeting.

“Indefensible.”

“We’re going to have to be tricky.”

“Be as tricky as you want, Tommy. Just don’t let the president take the bullet.”

“Copy that, boss.”

Click.

Lukas smirked. “We still hate him, right?”

“Until further notice, yeah.”

The clock kept ticking.

One Observatory Circle. D.C.

With the two big dogs, Lee and Ted were cramped in the back seat of the SUV on the drive to the Naval Observatory. Darkly tinted windows ensured nobody could see who the passengers were as they passed the ever-vigilant press camped on the sidewalk in front of the White House.

“They never even noticed you,” said Ted. “I think we’re home free.”

“Home free for a few hours is what I need,” said Lee. “I’m glad we’re bringing the dogs. I’m in dire need of physical exercise.”

“I could use some myself,” said Ted. “Living in the residence is not the same as hiking up and down Purple Mountain.”

Lee laughed. “You’ll have to do some spring training, Ted, before you go back home.”

The SUV stopped at the gate of the vice president’s residence, and the naval officer checked them out. He smiled when he saw the president in the back seat. “Welcome, sir.”

“Thank you, Ensign. I’m checking to see how moving day is going.”

“I’m sure Vice President Harrison will be pleased to see you, sir.”

“I hope so,” Lee mumbled to Ted and then laughed. “I hope I’m not on her shit list too.”

Dan’s team ran in first and cleared the house, although the place was vigilantly protected by the Navy and the Marines and there wasn’t much doubt about it being clear.

Lee and Ted left the dogs in the yard to run free while they went inside to surprise Yvonne.

Roy opened the door for them with a wide grin on his handsome face. “What a wonderful surprise. Please come in. We’re in a bit of a mess, but it’s all coming together. I have coffee on.”

“Coffee will be fantastic, Roy. Thank you.”

“Who’s here, Roy?” hollered Yvonne.

“The president and Ted,” Roy called back.

Yvonne ran down the stairs and laughed. “I thought Roy was fooling me.” She hugged them both. “Come in.”

Yvonne took a break from unpacking, rounded up Chet and they took time for coffee and pastries in the sitting room.

Roy was excited that there was a kitchen he could use and a vegetable garden already in existence. He rambled on to Lee about how much he loved the new place.

“We came to see how moving day was going,” said Lee. “Nothing else. An excuse to get out of the residence with the dogs for a while.”

Kamps nodded. “Must have been a difficult transition for you, sir, after living here.”

With sadness in his voice, Lee said, “When we first moved to the White House, Tommy couldn’t make the transition. He loved it here so much. It wasn’t long after we moved to the Residence that he packed up and went back to Texas.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

After the recon first thing in the morning, me and Lukas went back to Blacky’s place to get ready for the op. He was sitting at the island in the kitchen working on his laptop.

“Hey, y’all are back. How did it go?”

“Well, we can now confirm that place is a death trap. Sniper’s paradise. We need a different plan to save your cousin because there’s no way in hell we can stop a sniper who’s hidden in there.”

“And no way to react once he shoots,” added Lukas.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Blacky.

“Lunch is served, Senor Cervantes,” said Florentina.

“Thank you,” said Blacky. “We’ll talk while we eat. Come on into the dining room.”

The little white pills made me a bit drowsy, and I didn’t feel much like eating, but the steak sandwiches with fried onions were amazing and I managed to eat one.

We had a couple of beers with lunch and Blacky came up with an alternate plan. “The only thing we can do, is tell Rafael what’s going on. I didn’t want to do that, but if we explain the situation to him we can ask him what he wants to do.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s try that. Not something the CIA would sanction, but he’s your kin, Blacky.”

While Blacky talked to his cousin on a secure phone, Kamps called my phone with a contact in Buenos Aires.

“Found a guy for you, Tommy. Name is Felix Nunez. You won’t have time to talk to him before the event but here’s his number. If you don’t get the sniper this afternoon, he might be able to help you.”

“Thanks, Kamps. I’ll talk to him. This is gonna get messy before it’s over.”

Kamps chuckled. “Maybe I’ll see you on CNN.”

“Hope that ain’t true. That will mean I fucked up.”

Blacky ended his call with a serious look on his face. “Rafael agreed to come here on the way to Casa Rosada.”

“Great.” I glanced at my watch and the minutes were ticking by. “He coming now?”

“On his way. He was about to leave the palace when I called him.”

“Give Lukas and I the short version of what we’re gonna do, boss.”

Blacky barely had time to finish his story, before Alfie interrupted, barking his head off and growling at visitors at the front door.

Florentina showed President Cervantes into the living room and came back quickly with a coffee tray.

Blaine introduced me and Lukas as his bodyguards and that story floated because Rafael had a bodyguard with him as well.

The more the merrier.

Big guy with black hair and a mustache. Vertical scar down his right cheek. He’d scare enemies off with his looks alone.

Over one cup of coffee Blacky quickly explained the alternate plan to his cousin.

Rafael listened, saw the wisdom in it and agreed to it. With his approval, we made preparations to put the plan into action.

We left Blacky’s hacienda with Blacky in the limo wearing body armor, and President Cervantes in the SUV with me and Lukas and Alfie.

Casa Rosada. Buenos Aires.

The ride to Casa Rosada was tense.

President Cervantes stayed on the phone with his Presidential Guard, ordering them to clear rooftops, alleyways, and doorways—anywhere someone could hide.

It wasn’t enough.

Too many angles. Too many shadows. Too many ways to die.

“Who is this person who wishes to see me dead, Marshal Donovan?” asked President Cervantes.

“Alex Freemont. A paid killer from the UK, sir.”

“Aw, yes. I have had words with Prime Minister Winfield in the past over oil rights. I never believed he would stoop to something so…violent.”

“Just because the hitter is from England,” said Lukas, “doesn’t mean the Brits hired him. He’s for sale worldwide. Could be another country paying him, sir.”

“Yes, I see. Another enemy of Argentina wants me out of the way for reasons of their own. Best not to jump to conclusions and blame the wrong enemy.” He smiled.

Cousin Rafael was a cool guy, and I liked him a lot.

We arrived at Casa Rosada and Lukas gave me an are-you-ready look. I nodded my head and let my hand slide to my holster.

I’m ready.

The lead limo slowed.

The crowd was thick, pressing against barriers, cell phones raised, eager to catch a glimpse of their leader. Soldiers wove through the bodies, eyes scanning, fingers on triggers.

Armored vehicles blocked the roads in and out—preventing a vehicular assault.

The decoy limo stopped.

Blacky stepped out first, playing bait. Waved like he was born to be admired.

Then—

Kaboom. South Side.

The explosion ripped through the six-story carpark like a bomb from hell.

A fireball erupted, hurling shattered concrete and twisted metal through the air.

The shockwave slammed into us like a freight train.

I fuckin’ felt it in my half-healed skull. I stumbled, ears ringing, chest hammering from the concussive force.

Screams ripped through the crowd.

Debris rained down—chunks of asphalt, pieces of car chassis, the acrid scent of burning fuel. A severed tire bounced down the pavement like a grotesque pinwheel.

Soldiers shouted, barking orders, spreading out, rifles raised toward the carpark.

Lukas and I dropped to a crouch, moving toward Blacky.

Kaboom. West Side.

A second explosion—by the statue.

The sky went dark with a towering plume of earth.

Dirt and debris showered down, hitting my shoulders like hail.

People tripped, scrambled, shoved—bodies crushed against barriers, trampling one another in blind panic.

A high-pitched ringing filled my skull. A sharp, hot pressure slowly building to a climax behind my eyes.

"Keep watch for the shooter!" I shouted, trying to steady my pounding heart and focus.

Then I saw him.

A runner. All in black.

Gun raised. Charging toward Blacky.

“Gun!”

Pop-pop-pop-pop

Four rounds.

The muzzle flash flickered in the smoke-filled air.

Glass shattered. Two bodies hit the ground—both citizens. Screams turned raw, primal.

The shooter fired wildly—then spun, disappearing into the crowd.

“Shooter. Twelve o’clock.” Lukas roared, raising his gun. The soldiers followed suit.

“Watch the innocents,” I shouted. Squinting, blood surging through my veins like acid.

Something didn’t feel right.

Too reckless. Too direct.

Fuck.

“Down, Blacky! Diversion!”

Blacky dropped.

Bang.

A second shot. High powered this time.

North side.

It tore through the air over Blacky’s shoulder.

Bang.

A guard jerked back, blood misting into the chaos.

There he is. The real sniper.

Blacky barrel-rolled toward the limo. Just in the nick of time.

Bang.

The sniper’s round exploded into the concrete sidewalk, sending shards flying where Blacky had been only seconds before.

I lunged, covering Blacky as I shoved him into the limo.

“Get the pistol guy! He's a decoy!" I barked in Spanish.

The Guards took off after him. Lukas followed, face twisted in a fury.

Inside the armored limo, Blacky’s breathing was ragged. “You hit?” I asked, my own breath uneven.

He shook his head, hands trembling against his knees.

“I think I’m good.”

His eyes flickered to the shattered window, to the blood pooling under the fallen guard’s body.

“That was too close.”

I nodded, jaw clenched. Too fucking close.

“What the fuck happened, Tommy?” Blacky asked, his voice still shaky.

“Freemont knew we’d be ready. He set the whole thing up for a clean shot.”

Outside, the crowd was still panicked, still scattering like startled birds.

Lukas stomped back toward the vehicles, breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead. His fists clenched at his sides.

“Get him?” I asked, ducking out.

His teeth ground together. “Fucker got away.”

I exhaled. Not good.

“Real shooter is on the north side.”

Lukas snorted. “He’s fuckin’ long gone by now.”

He was right.

“Cover me.” I snuck back to our SUV and slid in beside President Cervantes. “Blacky’s safe.”

“Did you get the assassin?”

We locked our gazes. “Too many distractions. Freemont got away.”

President Cervantes reached for the door handle. “I would like to address my people.”

“I don’t know if you’re safe, sir.”

He grinned at me like he didn’t care.

Cervantes stepped out. Faced the people.

No hesitation.

“People of Argentina, my honored delegates and guests. I must delay our conference until tomorrow. But let me be clear⁠—”

He raised his voice.

“We will not be intimidated.”

He pumped his fist in the air.

The crowd roared.

Jesse appeared, grinning, unfazed.

“We will retire to my residence,” Cervantes said, facing us. “You have saved my life. Come. Eat with me, and we will plan for tomorrow.”

Blacky nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Lukas was still fuming.

I leaned in. “Get a good look at him?”

His voice was cold. “Oh yeah.”

“We’ll tell the president. Maybe they have sketch artists who can help.”

“If they find that fucker, he’s fuckin’ dead.”

Blacky joined us, his eyes narrowing.

“Where’s Freemont?”

I shook my head. “The bastard’s plan almost worked.”

Quinta de Olivos. Buenos Aires.

After the announcement about the summit conference being moved to the following day, the crowd dispersed, and we followed the presidential limo to the palace.

With no signs of being the victim of an assassination attempt earlier, Rafael greeted us personally and invited us into a reception room for drinks.

His staff wasn’t long laying out an elaborate buffet and I was a little bit hungry myself. Lukas was always hungry and helped himself to a plateful of roast beef and gravy.

“On your advice, my cousin,” said the president, “I will make arrangements for the meeting to be held here tomorrow. Consuela, my personal assistant, will contact all of the delegates and invite them to the palace instead of Casa Rosada.” Rafael lit up a thin brown cigar and offered one to Blacky.

As they sat side by side smoking on the sofa, I could see how much they looked alike—enough to be brothers.

Jesse noticed it too. “Definitely a strong family resemblance, Tommy.”

“Uh huh. That’s what I was thinking. I’m glad the meeting will be here. With all the guards I saw outside, the shooter won’t get in here.”

“Doesn’t mean the hitter won’t get him when he does come out,” mumbled Lukas, his pessimistic streak showing.

“That’s why we have to eliminate him before President Cervantes decides to go out again.”

“Copy that.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires.

We went back to Blacky’s place, and I was done. I’d had enough fun for one day. The pills curbed the headache and the puking, but they were super strong, and the little fuckers were wiping me out in other ways.

Lukas and Blacky had a couple of brews while they talked, but I stuck to coffee. No time for me to pass out from an overdose of drugs and booze. Movie stars did it all the time, but I wasn’t one of those.

Listening to the talk about how they planned to take out the shooter, I sat with my eyes closed.

Blaine called the number for the street guy Kamps had found for us and I must have fallen asleep when they set up the meet.

Next thing I knew, Lukas had hold of my arm and he was saying, “Tommy, we’re going downtown to talk to Kamps’ guy. Go to bed and we’ll be back in a while. Taking Alfie with us.”

“I’m comin’,” I slurred, barely understanding my own words.

“Fuck off, you are not. Go to bed. We’ll tell you what happens.”

“Can’t go without me,” I mumbled, but no one heard.

Lukas was already moving. Blacky was ahead of them, already outside.

I forced myself up, shoulders heavy. Jacket. Boots. Gotta get moving.

By the time I caught up, Lukas took one look and shook his head.

Blacky muttered something. I didn’t catch it.

They waited. Barely.

Blacky sighed. “Idiot.”

I didn’t argue.

With that out of the way, we were off.

Frank’s Bar. Palermo District. Buenos Aires.

The Palermo area of Buenos Aires was upscale and filled with bars, clubs and all kinds of entertainment venues. A huge, crowded tourist area of the city.

Blacky had arranged to meet Felix at a bar called Frank’s. Lukas drove the rental, and the GPS took us right to the front entrance.

Parking was a problem at that time of night and Lukas had to search, but he found a spot a couple of blocks away and we walked.

We walked fast, cutting through the night air thick with smoke and the distant scent of grilled meat.

Frank’s was fuckin’ packed. Wall-to-wall partiers, trying to get high or get laid. Or both.

The noise and the flashing neon were killin’ my skull, but I wanted to see this one through. Had to suck it up. Just kept my hand on Lukas’s shoulder and blindly followed.

So many people and we had no clue who we were looking for. Lukas and Blacky scanned every table, looking for our guy.

Blacky pointed to a guy sitting alone. Slicked-back black hair that hung to his shoulders—looked a lot like Blacky. Maybe another fuckin’ cousin.

He sat across from the hair-guy, and they began chatting. Lukas and me stood guard.

Couldn’t hear shit. Didn’t care.

Blacky had this.

Lukas and I sat down, and Alfie sat under the table. It was so fuckin’ noisy in the bar I couldn’t hear a thing Blacky and Felix were saying. Lukas sat next to Felix, and I figured I’d be the guy forking over the cash for the info, so I took my wallet out and got ready.

Blacky shook his head, and I shoved it back into my pocket. I’d lost control of my op, but I was so tired and out of it, I didn’t give a shit if Blacky was running with it.

He waved a server over, passed her a bill and she rushed off to get us drinks. Tipping her in advance worked wonders and she was back in a flash with a loaded tray.

Still talking to Felix, Blacky pulled out a roll of bills, peeled off a few and handed the cash to Kamps’ informant.

“Gracias.” Felix chugged the rest of his beer and left happy. I hoped he’d given us something we could use. Money for nothin’ wasn’t a game I played.

“Felix is going to do more digging,” said Blacky, “and get us an exact address. He provided us with an approximate area where the shooter was seen after the attempt on Rafael. He’s hiding out in the Barracas area with members of the local Hells Angels. We’ll get close to him tomorrow.”

Blacky and Lukas finished their beer, and I was happy to get out of Frank’s Bar. The fuckin’ noise level was killing my head. I was at the end of the day and the end of the super pill’s power. The power was wearing off and I was grinding down to a standstill.

We were almost to the rental when they blocked our path.

Five guys out having a good time, but they’d passed from good-time-drunks into the drunk-and-disorderly phase. Seen it a million times when I worked the gang squad.

We tried to walk by them, but thinking it was a big joke, they blocked the sidewalk so we couldn’t get past and shouted all kinds of shitty stuff at us in Spanish.

Blaine yelled back at them in Spanish, and they laughed in his face.

Tired and grumpy from a long shit of a day, Lukas wanted to get to the rental and go home and sleep. These guys were stopping him from doing that.

I waited for it…

Snarling and spinning like the Tasmanian Devil, Lukas clocked three of the guys at the same time and left them out cold on the sidewalk. The other two ran like chicken shits.

“Thanks, bro. I’m too tired to fight.”

Lukas opened the back door for me. “No one fucks with my family, especially when their brain’s unstable.”

I hugged my brother as I climbed in and lay down.

“Oh, and Tommy?”

“Yeah, Lukas?” I said, stretching out.

“Don’t you dare puke on the back seat.”

Brotherly love.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sunday, January 12th.

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires.

First thing I did when I woke up was head downstairs for coffee so I could take my one little pill and start functioning again. The headache stayed gone while I slept, and I didn’t want to give it the chance to sneak up on me again.

Florentina put a steaming mug of coffee in front of me and I sat at the island in Blacky’s kitchen watching her make stuff for breakfast. I talked to her a bit in Spanish, and she was nice.

By the time Lukas and Blacky came down, the pill was working, and I felt like I could make it through the day. With the pills, I’d be okay while I was working down here but flying home would be the supreme shits.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Ben Vipond rolled out of bed and went directly into the bathroom. Shower, shave, blow dryer—all the essentials. Threw on one of his designer suits as he watched the early morning news.

Bedroom TV off.

Down to the kitchen.

Kitchen TV on.

He drank his coffee as he watched more news, then turned the TV off and dashed out the door to meet his driver.

That was Ben’s morning routine.

On the way to Langley, he checked his emails and picked up another coffee and some breakfast.

Anything that happened, domestic or abroad, he’d have a heads-up before he got to the office. One thing Ben hated was anybody running into his office to point out something he’d missed.

Fucking hated it.

The tape ran across the bottom of the screen with a headline from Buenos Aires, Argentina, and Ben stopped breathing and stared at the flat screen waiting for details.

As soon as he saw President Cervantes speaking to the public after the attempt on his life, he was able to breathe again. He called Tommy.

“Hey, Ben.”

“You okay, Tommy? You sound drained.”

“Yeah, a bit. I’m okay.”

“Congrats on winning the first round with the shooter.”

“Thanks, boss. Got more info now and we’re tracking him down this morning. The meeting has been moved to the palace and the president ain’t coming out, so he’s safe for today.”

“Good thinking. Was that your idea?”

“Umm…not exactly. We kind of decided it would be best if he stayed inside until we caught the shooter.”

“Definitely the right decision. You need more help?”

“Y’all got a field office down here?”

“Write this number down and talk to Lacey Prince if you need more bodies. She’ll help you.”

“Got it, boss. Thanks.”

Reassured that Tommy had Argentina under control, Ben’s thoughts turned to Yvonne.

I have to see her before I go crazy. I could use this situation with Tommy as a reason to meet. If she agrees we can talk, I have to make the reason sound legitimate, or she’ll see right through me.

Ben took a deep breath and texted.

“Need to see you about something ongoing. Can I come to your place to talk to you?”

“Of course, if it’s work-related. I’d love to see you.”

“I’ll be there around eleven.”

“You made my day.”

With his phone in his hand, Ben stepped into the ensuite attached to his office. He fiddled with his hair and slapped on some of the cologne Yvonne loved. His heart pounded with anticipation. He’d soon be in the presence of the woman he couldn’t live without.

My imaginary girlfriend.

American Embassy. Buenos. Aires.

After breakfast, Jesse returned to his guest room at the embassy to have a private conversation with the president. He sat down in the easy chair by the window and made the call.

“Good morning, Mister Secretary.”

“Good morning, Lee. I’m sure you’ve heard that President Cervantes is safe and unharmed.”

“I heard,” Lee replied. “You must have been close when the assassination attempt was made on President Cervantes.”

“Yes. We were about to enter Casa Rosada when it happened. A massive crowd had gathered to see the president and all the other delegates. As the vehicles pulled up, the assassin put his plan into action. Multiple diversions. Even a fake shooter, just so he could get a clean shot.”

“That must have been terrifying for you.”

Jesse chuckled. “Been in law enforcement most of my life, Lee. I guess I just expect the worst.”

“Of course. You were a Texas Ranger.”

“The diversionary shooter cracked off four shots, taking down a few citizens and shooting out a window. The actual assassin got two solid shots off, and Blacky might be dead if it wasn’t for Tommy. He realized everything was a diversion. Lukas chased after the fake shooter, but he got away.”

“Tommy and Lukas are in Buenos Aires with you?” Lee asked, sounding incredulous.

“Yes, they’re staying at Blaine Blackmore’s place in Buenos Aires.”

“He has a place there?”

“Blaine’s parents were actually part of the Cervantes family before they passed away, which makes him President Cervantes's cousin. The three of them are searching for the shooter.”

“I had no idea Tommy and Lukas were in Buenos Aires or that Ranger Blackmore was there.”

“It’s a long story,” said Jesse, “but as I understand it, Blacky’s father left the Cervantes family and the cartel way of life and moved to the States. He provided information in exchange for witness protection and was given the name Blackmore. When Blacky was about fourteen, the cartel caught up, and his parents were killed in a staged car accident in Odessa, Texas.”

“I knew none of this,” said Lee angrily. “People always seem to enjoy keeping me in the dark.”

Lee ended the call abruptly, which was probably for the better. Based on his tone, he was becoming irate.

For his part, Jesse regretted mentioning Tommy, Lukas and Blacky.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Tommy was keeping Lee out of it for a reason.

One Observatory Circle. D.C.

Yvonne read Ben’s text and freaked a little when she realized he was coming for a business meeting of some importance, and he’d see Chet and ask a lot of questions.

Nothing is going on with Chet so why do I feel guilty? I’ll say Chet moved from Texas to take the job as my senior advisor and there’s plenty of room for him to stay with me until he gets his own place.

She took a couple of deep breaths and went to find Chet to give him a heads up before Ben arrived.

Chet was working in the office at the end of the downstairs hallway, and he glanced up when Yvonne entered the room. “Hey.”

“I just came to tell you that the Director of the CIA is popping by to discuss something with me.”

“Do you want to use the office? I can go upstairs.”

“No. He can talk to me in the sitting room. You don’t have to move. I’m just telling you he’s on his way.”

“Something I can help with?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know what it is he wants to talk about. He just hinted that it was important and ongoing. I think that’s the word he used.”

“Ongoing,” repeated Chet. “I’ll stay here but give me a shout out if you need me.”

“I will. Thanks, Chet.” Yvonne headed for the door and then turned. “I’m so glad we’re getting along well because I want you here with me. You and Roy are my family.”

“Thanks, Yvonne. This is a beautiful place to live and work and I can see how happy Roy is. He’s never been happier in his crazy demented life.”

Content that all was well with Chet, Yvonne hurried to the foyer when she heard the bell. Her heart pounding at the thought of seeing Ben, she yanked the door open and hugged him without restraint.

He responded by kissing her with a lot of pent-up passion, then realized what he was doing and stopped,. He took a step back, glanced around and then let out a breath.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he said. “I’ve got to get hold of myself.”

Yvonne smiled. “I’m just as guilty as you are, Ben. Come into the sitting room and we can talk in there. Would you like coffee?”

“Love some. Thanks.”

High color in her face, Yvonne rushed into the kitchen to get the coffee. “Is your guest here, Yvonne? I can bring the coffee in for you.”

“Thanks, Roy. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Who’s here?” he asked in a whisper.

“Director of the CIA.”

“Yikes. I’ll bring the coffee.”

Yvonne showed Ben into the sitting room and left the door open. “Roy is bringing us coffee and then I’ll close the door.”

“Have I met Roy?”

“I’m not sure. He was at the reception after my swearing in. He’s my closest friend.”

“How close?”

Yvonne giggled. “Extremely close. I can barely function without him.”

Roy carried the tray in and set it on the coffee table. Yvonne introduced him. “This is Ben Vipond, Director of the CIA, Roy.”

“Lovely to meet you, sir,” Roy said in his tiny voice. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you, Roy,” said Ben.

Roy closed the door on his way out and Ben smiled. “I feel better about Roy now that I’ve met him.”

“Good. No jealous fits.” She laughed. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I came on the premise of talking to you about the near assassination of President Cervantes in Buenos Aires, but the truth is, I had to see you. It doesn’t matter if we talk about Argentina or how deep the snow is in Alaska.”

“A ruse.” Yvonne rolled her eyes. “You are the devious one, Ben Vipond.”

He laughed.

While Roy fixed coffee for Yvonne and Ben Vipond, he also poured one for Chet and took it to the office for him. He set it on the desk and whispered, “The Director of the CIA is here talking to Yvonne.”

“Ben Vipond?”

“I believe that’s his name, yes. He’s quite a handsome man.”

“I think that’s the guy Tommy said Yvonne was fooling around with on New Year’s Eve.” Chet stood up. “I’m going to take a look at him.”

Roy shook his head. “You shouldn’t do that, Chet. He’s here on business.”

“Do we know that for sure, Roy?”

“Not for absolutely sure, but Yvonne said it was a business meeting.”

Chet strode down the hallway towards the sitting room. He still didn’t have the rooms in the house all sorted out. Thirty-three of them.

Two taps on the door out of politeness and he walked into the sitting room. Fire in his eyes and green venom in his bloodstream, he fought for control.

Yvonne and Vipond were sitting on the sofa drinking coffee and talking and nothing was going on. With no emotion in his voice, Chet said, “I wanted to meet you, Director Vipond. I’m Chet Kamps and we’ve spoken on the phone several times. Since I’m the vice president’s senior advisor, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

Ben stood up and shook Chet’s hand.

Chet left just as suddenly and closed the door behind him.

“What’s that guy doing here, Yvonne?”

“He doesn’t have a place of his own yet. He had to move from Texas because he’s the man I want helping me with all the important decisions I’ll be making.”

“Texas?”

“Nothing is going on, Ben. There is no one in my life but you.”

“I’m not sure I can sleep easy with you living in this house with two men. One of which is not gay and since he’s from Texas, I’m guessing he might’ve been the father of the child you lost. Tell me if I’m completely off track.”

Yvonne said nothing but teared up. “Chet and I are over, Ben. It didn’t work out for us. We both moved on.”

“But he’s living here with you now, Yvonne. That means something in my estimation.”

“It means he’s a brilliant person, Ben. I know him well and trust him completely and I need him in order to be successful in my new position. I offered him the job of senior advisor and he agreed to move to D.C. and help me for the next three years.”

Ben put his coffee cup on the tray and stood up. “I should leave. This house is a little too crowded for me.” He left so quickly, Yvonne didn’t have time to show him out.

Barracas District. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

My pill was working, and I figured I might even be useful as we followed the lead we got from Kamps’ man in the city. He’d done more digging and come up with a possible address. No guarantees, but Blacky had paid him three hundred Benjamins for it anyway. Might’ve been a waste of good money.

Compared to the Palermo area of the city where Blacky’s house was, as we drove into the Barracas area, things definitely got shabbier and rougher.

More gangers on the street corners and groups of them hanging out in front of the stores. Lukas had the address in the GPS, and he was trying to follow the directions but some of the narrow streets were blocked off with vendors and their carts or stalls and he’d had to turn around four times already.

“This is as close as we’re gonna get.” Lukas rammed the rental into park, and we bailed out. “We’re about three blocks away and you and me are kinda white for this neighborhood. The boss should fit in okay.”

Blaine chuckled. “I should blend. I’m half Argentinian and my mother’s half barely shows through at all.”

As we got closer to the address we were aiming for, the number of bikers hanging around increased ten-fold. “You think Freemont is paying this club for protection, Blacky?”

“Looks like it, but I can’t see it happening. Why would they protect a shooter from a foreign country?”

“For big bucks?” I asked.

“Nothing is impossible so I’m not ruling it out.”

“Tommy, you go inside and look for the apartment number. Me and Blacky will fend off all comers.”

“Best if Blacky goes inside. We got a better chance of beating the shit out of these guys.”

“Yeah, but you have to do the job, Tommy. You’re the one getting paid to do it.”

“Right. I’ll go but I don’t want the boss getting hurt.”

Lukas chuckled. “But it’s okay if I do?”

“Something like that.”

I went inside and found the apartment number. Slum building. Hadn’t seen maintenance in a fuckin’ year. The door was locked but I was inside in thirty seconds. The apartment was empty, so no cigar for Felix Nunez. I searched through the crap on the table and on the stand beside the cot and there was nothing but garbage.

When I got back to where I left Lukas and Blacky they were in a dust-up with the locals and the odds were about three to one.

I jumped in to help them and the only thing I could do was knife three of the guys and make them bleed real bad from important places. A skill I learned from Max Slaten. That made them think twice about beating up my brother and my boss.

One guy pulled a gun out of his waistband, and I shot him in the face with the Eagle.

A deterrent.

The Eagle made a lot of noise and at that moment a guy ran out the door of the building and took off in the opposite direction.

Blacky was a super dead-eye and fired off his Beretta.

Bang.

He hit the guy, made him stagger, but the shooter kept going down the alley. Lukas took off after him and chased him until he jumped on a city bus. Lost him.

Cops would be coming our way, and we had to get back to Blacky’s place before we got slammed into the local lockup. Couldn’t risk that because we had a job to do, and it wasn’t finished.

I drove the rental. Lukas couldn’t. He was bleeding pretty bad from his right hand. Blacky sat in the back with him and used his bandana to wrap the hand and put pressure on the gash.

“Go straight to that clinic where you got the pills, Tommy,” said Blacky.

“Yeah, boss. Good idea. We’re gonna need more people.”

“Copy that.”

“Ben gave me the name of the agent running the field office in this city. She can get us help.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna need it against the bikers. I’m not liking our fuckin’ odds.”

“Copy that.”

Medical Clinic. Buenos Aires.

Blacky and I took Lukas inside, and I thought the nurse recognized me. In Spanish, she said to Lukas, “That’s a lot of blood. Let me help you.”

He didn’t know what she was saying but went with her anyway. She took him to an exam room, and I followed. Blacky sat down in the waiting area to catch his breath. He’d been moving around too much and too fuckin’ fast and had no wind left.

The nurse cleaned up Lukas’ hand so she could see the damage—big ugly gash laid open. Nice and deep. She called the doctor.

Wearing a white coat, same doctor I had rushed in, stared at the gash in Lukas’ hand and nodded his head.

He took a packaged needle from his drug cubby, peeled off the paper and stuck in in Lukas’ hand close to the wound.

My brother winced but no sound came out of him. Better than me. I fuckin’ hated needles. Wouldn’t make a good heroin addict. No time to grieve for Lukas’ twin. Pushed thoughts of Lincoln out of my head but never out of my heart.

Stitches went in and the nurse bandaged the hand snugly. The doctor gave Lukas a bottle of pain pills and a vial of antibiotics. My brother nodded his thanks. Hadn’t said a word in the past hour, so I knew he was pissed at the cut and the pain.

I paid the bill at the front desk, and we were good to go.

Quinta de Olivos. Buenos Aires.

I drove to the embassy, and we kept watch over Jesse. The limo came out of the gate and passed the guards stationed there, heading for the palace with Jesse inside.

The windows in the vehicle were tinted, but I gave him a wave anyway.

Second try for the delegates, including the Secretary of State.

“Here we go,” said Blacky. “Let’s make sure Jesse gets inside the palace safely, then we’re clear to search for the shooter.”

“How long will he be at the palace?” asked Lukas.

“According to Jesse’s itinerary,” said Blaine, “they begin with a luncheon at one p.m. and then hold discussions all afternoon. That’s it for day one.”

“Okay. We’ve got several hours.”

We watched the limo drive through the palace gates and disappear. Jesse was safe for the time being.

“He’s inside, boss. Should we a cruise through the Barracas area and look for Freemont?”

“Yeah, we’ll go back but I doubt the shooter will be at the same address.”

“Won’t be there,” said Lukas. “I saw him jump on a bus.”

“Could’ve been the bus was a handy way to get away from you,” said Blacky. “He might not have been going anywhere in particular.”

“Yeah, there’s that.”

Barracas Area. Buenos Aires.

We started by double checking the address Felix gave us and the apartment was empty. All afternoon we searched that ratty area of the city. Bars, cafes and cheap hotels. Any viable place an international shooter might be hanging out.

Gangs were plentiful but the Hermandad bikers had thinned out and that was a sign the shooter was hiding somewhere else.

“We’re getting nowhere,” I said. “We need more information from Felix.”

“Copy that,” said Blacky. “Let’s go home and wait for his call.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires.

Around five o’clock we got back to Blacky’s place, and we were having a beer and trying to figure out what to do next when Ambassador Velasco called Blacky.

Blacky put the call on speaker so Lukas and I could hear the conversation. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

The ambassador’s voice was shaky, so I figured the news was gonna be bad.

“On the way back from the palace, the limo was overtaken by a motorcycle gang known as the Hermandad,” said the ambassador. “Several security men were injured, two were killed, and Secretary of State Quantrall was taken.”

“What? They kidnapped the Secretary?”

“I’m afraid so, yes. I’m so sorry there’s nothing else I can tell you.”

“Why weren’t the men on his security detail able to prevent the kidnapping?” asked Blacky.

“The kidnappers had guns and there were far too many of them.”

“Thank you for the call, sir,” said Blacky.

Lukas was hurt and when he was in pain it was best to take a step back. He growled when he heard the news, and I pushed his pain pills closer to him.

“They can’t take Jesse,” he snarled.

We sat down and had a conversation with Blacky about where the kidnappers might’ve taken the boss.

“Why the hell would they pull Jesse?” asked Blacky. “What’s in it for them? If they want Rafael dead, why take Jesse? For chrissakes, it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Only makes sense if it ain’t related,” I said. “Different people—different reasons.”

Blacky gave me a hard stare. “Two different crimes—unrelated—and yet the same brotherhood bike club is involved in both?”

I shrugged and picked up my sat phone. “We need more intel.”

“That’s for goddamned sure.” He was fuming because of his cousin and now his bestie. Blacky was emotionally involved with both victims and it wouldn’t go well for the perps.

I called the number Ben gave me for Agent Lacey Prince, the babe in charge of the CIA’s Buenos Aires field office.

“Agent Prince speaking. How can I help you?”

“This is Marshal Donovan calling, ma’am. Director Vipond gave me your number. Were you briefed that I might call?”

“The Director mentioned it. How can I help, Marshal?”

“The Secretary of State has been kidnapped, and I’d like you to come to this address for a private meeting.” I gave her the address and there was silence on the other end of the line.

“Is that the address of a residence?”

“Yes, a house belonging to Ranger Blackmore. He owns the property in the Palermo area and I’m staying with him.”

“I’ll verify the address and if it proves to be legitimate, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t it be? Ben told me to call you for backup.”

“Procedure, Marshal.”

“Yeah, I’m not so high on that shit.”

Blaine wandered into the kitchen, made a fresh pot of coffee and spoke to Florentina is Spanish. “We’re expecting a guest, Florentina.”

“Thank you, Senor Blackmore. I’ll prepare refreshments.”

Twenty minutes later, Agent Lacey Prince showed up at Blacky’s gate. He buzzed her in and stood at the front door watching her park the black government issue sedan.

“Please come in, Agent Prince.” Blaine showed her into the living room where Florentina was serving coffee and pastries.

I glanced at her. Tall and pretty with a muscular build. Short dark hair. Strapped. Mid-forties. Career spook.

Blaine introduced me and Lukas, and she shook my hand and pulled back a little from Lukas. Fresh blood had seeped through his bandage.

“Director Vipond asked me to help you locate the sniper any way possible, Marshal Donovan.”

“Thanks. Does Ben know the Secretary has been taken?”

“I didn’t discuss that with him when he called.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you?” I snapped at her. “Were you afraid to tell the boss you lost the Secretary on your watch? What kind of outfit are you running down here…ma’am?”

“I wanted to have answers to his questions before I discussed the matter with Director Vipond.”

“That’s a shit reason, ma’am.”

She ignored me and kept talking. “We’ve conducted several thorough searches for the sniper and he’s no longer in the Barracas area where he was reported to be.”

Blacky shot me a shut-the-fuck-up look and decided he’d talk to the woman himself. Turning on that Latino charm, he asked, “Agent Prince, could you possibly expand that search while we look for Secretary Quantrall?”

She smiled at him, and I wanted to laugh out loud.

“Yes, of course. I’ll order a city-wide search.”

My cell rang and I stepped into the dining room.

“Hey, Felix.” Our guy on the street was working both problems at the same time.

“Things surrounding la Hermandad are tight. They’re fuckin’ Nazis.”

“No kidding.”

All those shaved heads and swastikas must’ve given them away.

“We need to meet, Marshal. I have information on the Secretary.”

“Nothing you can tell me over the phone?”

He laughed. “Do I get paid over the phone?”

“Point taken. Where are you?”

Casa Downtown. Buenos. Aires.

The bar wasn’t far away from Blacky’s house—six blocks at the most—but it turned out to be hard to find. Blacky and I sent Lukas to bed with Alfie and went by ourselves. A quick trip to get the information Felix was offering. Whether it would be worth it or not was always a guess.

The GPS took us to the bar, but we couldn’t see the place at first glance. Blacky asked a pedestrian, and he pointed down.

“Down there?”

No fuckin’ sign. Looked like a receiving entrance under a storefront.

The bar was in the cellar of a shoe store and next to fuckin’ invisible. I led the way with my penlight because Blacky sucked at stairs, and I didn’t want him getting hurt.

Felix sat at a table alone with a bottle of wine in front of him that we were no doubt paying for.

Blacky and I sat down on the opposite side of the table. Ordered beer when the girl came around. We were both exhausted and wanted to get the info and go home to sleep.

“What have you got, Felix?”

He held out his hand for the money.

“How much?”

“Three hundred.”

Blacky’s dark eyes flashed anger. He was too tired to fuck with this guy. “Three hundred for what?” He took out his wallet and put one Benjamin on the table. “Tell me something that’s worth three times that.”

“Fuck you.”

Felix jumped off his chair and I grabbed him by the throat and sat him down. “Being an asshole will get you killed sooner.”

He rubbed his neck and focused black death-ray eyes on me. “Another hundred and I’ll tell you what I heard.”

Blacky took his wallet out again and placed another bill on top of the first.

Felix took the money and shoved it into his pocket before it disappeared. He leaned in close and said, “You won’t find the Sec in Argentina. Not even in South America. He’s on a trip to the Middle East.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Monday, January 13th.

Vipond Residence. Foggy Bottom. D.C.

Ben sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. Finding out that Yvonne’s ex from Texas was sharing the same living space as her, didn’t sit well with him and he was overcome by jealousy and a sense of helplessness.

How can I get that guy out of there before he puts moves on her again?

“I have no idea what my next move should be. Last thing I want to do is piss Yvonne off and have her label me as a green-eyed idiot. I’m not usually a jealous guy, but I’m not happy that guy from Texas is living with her either.”

His cell rang and he had to put thoughts of his love life aside and focus on business.

“Agent Prince, nice to hear from you. Are things going well in Buenos Aires?”

“Not all that well, sir. I met with Ranger Blackmore and Marshal Donovan and I’m supplying men from the base to catch the sniper.”

“That sounds like a positive move.”

“Ranger Blackmore wounded the sniper, so he has been slowed down considerably and should be easier to apprehend. He’s not a threat to the prime minister any longer because of the wound.”

“He’s been shot in the arm?”

“That’s what Ranger Blackmore told me.”

“You’re making progress. I’m pleased to hear it. Can anyone explain to me why Ranger Blackmore is in Buenos Aires?”

“He heard rumors of an assassination attempt and was worried about the safety of his cousin, President Cervantes.”

“His cousin?”

“Cervantes is Ranger Blackmore’s birth name, as I understand it, sir.”

Fuck. I hate being blindsided.

“This may or may not be related to the assassination attempt, Director Vipond.”

“Something else happened?”

“After the first meeting at the palace, the Secretary of State was kidnapped from the embassy limo. He hasn’t been seen since although the Presidential Guard is making every effort to find him.”

Blood rushed to Ben’s head, and he truly believed he was going to explode like Fred Flintstone. “I can’t believe you’re just telling me this now. Why would you wait?”

“I was working on finding the sniper, sir. The kidnapping of the Secretary isn’t related.”

“Possibly not, but it’s a terrorist act against our country, Agent, and a far more significant problem to me than the assassination of President Cervantes. The Secretary of State is one of our own, Agent Prince. What the hell were you thinking? Aren’t you supposed to notify me of any terrorist actions in the city?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why didn’t you?” Ben shouted at her as he paced in the living room and tore at his hair.

“I’m telling you now, sir.”

“I’m coming down there, Agent Prince. I’ll be on the next fuckin’ plane.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Consider yourself suspended, Agent Prince. Who’s next to you in seniority down there?”

“Bob Jamieson, sir.”

“Have him call me immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ben called his assistant and told her to get him on the next plane out of Andrews going to South America and he ran upstairs to pack.

Tehran. Iran.

Fighting against a brutal headache, Jesse opened his eyes and glanced around the room he was in. A small room with very little furniture. Bed and dresser and one armchair. Old fashioned wallpaper on the walls. Slanted ceilings reminiscent of Grandma Quantrall’s house. Farmhouse, maybe.

Trying to remember the details of the kidnapping, he could picture leaving the palace with the other delegates. Then getting into the limo with the driver from the embassy.

Then what happened?

The noise.

He remembered the noise. Remarked on it to the driver before either of them saw the gang of bikers.

This has nothing to do with the attempt on President Cervantes, but they took advantage of that and are camouflaging it. This is a terrorist action against the U.S. Where are they holding me? When I find out, that will tell me what country is responsible.

He sat up and patted his jacket pocket for a phone and of course, there wasn’t one.

I’m sure they’ll tell me in good time what they want.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

In a mood fouler than he could ever recall, the president sat at the dining room table reading the Post while his brother watched the morning news on the flat screen.

Dan Black, head of Lee Armstrong’s Secret Service team, rushed into the presidential dining room and stood next to the table out of breath.

“Dan, what is it?”

“Sir, the Secretary of State has been kidnapped in Buenos Aires.”

“What?” Lee tossed his napkin and stood up, leaving his breakfast on his plate. “How did this happen?”

“The only details I have are from Ambassador Velasco. It seems the limo was on its way back from the palace when it was swarmed by a huge gang of bikers. There was violence, several injuries and two deaths during the interdiction. Secretary Quantrall was taken.”

“This is terrible, Dan. Secretary Quantrall has a bad heart. Is there an ongoing search for him? Of course there would be.” Lee was mumbling mostly to himself.

“Have you called Tommy?”

“No, sir. Is he in Buenos Aires?”

“It seems he is, but it was a surprise to me when I found out.” Lee picked up his phone from the dining room table and called Tommy’s sat phone.

“Hey, boss.”

“Regardless of the way you left here, young man, I’m tasking you to find Secretary Quantrall and bring him home immediately. Do you hear me? This is a direct order from your president.”

“Hear you, boss. We’re working on it now. Full out doing it. Call you as soon as we get a lead.”

“Don’t treat me like I just fell off the turnip truck, Tommy. I won’t stand for it. You find Jesse and you fucking do it now.”

“Copy that, boss. Doing it now.”

Lee tossed his phone on the table and sat down to catch his breath. “What if they can’t find him, Dan?”

“Tommy will find the Secretary, sir. From what I understand, they’re personal friends.”

Lee nodded. “Almost neighbors in Texas. I hope that counts for something.”

“I’m sure it will. Keep in mind, Tommy is the best out there in no-where land. He’ll find Secretary Quantrall.”

Lee focused on Dan’s face. “You said no-where land, Dan. Have you heard something ominous?”

“No, not at all. That was only an expression. I shouldn’t have said anything like that so off-hand. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for coming in person to tell me. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll keep you updated, sir.”

“Thank you, Dan. You’re someone I count on.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

Before I went to sleep, I called Ellis and checked on the kids and they were fine. They were little and I missed them a helluva lot more than they missed me.

Finished that call and Annie called me about Jesse. “Any news on the cowboy yet, sugar?”

“No. Kamps is searching for information and so is Granddad. They’ll have something soon. Granddad told me he wasn’t going to bed until he found out who grabbed the Sec. It will gain that country—I think it’s Iran—but not confirmed—a big load of prestige grabbing a major player in the US government like the Secretary of State.”

“I understand what you’re saying, honey bun. They may not hurt him. The kidnapping is mostly for show.”

“A power play but for sure they’re gonna ask Lee for something they want.”

“Right. A concession or money or something,” said Annie. “I’m worried about his heart.”

“Yeah, me too. I miss you, babe. Every minute of every day.”

“Same. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, and you do the same. I love you, Tommy.”

“Ditto.”

I had one last cigarette in the dark and tried to think and sort it all out. I had to get Jesse back no matter who had to die in fuckin’ Iran. I could see them doing it and I was already planning on going there in the morning. If it wasn’t the Iranians, then it was another country that the Iranians were backing. That was their play. They pulled the strings in the Middle East, and nobody could tell me different.

I butted my smoke out and my sat phone rang.

“Granddad. Did you get something?”

“Cassidy picked up a rumor on the Iranians.”

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

“Supposedly President Ahmadi will make a speech in a few hours claiming it wasn’t them.”

“Any idea which terrorist group has him?”

“I’m putting my money on the IRGC. The Revolutionary Guard have a direct connection to the Ayatollah.”

“And he’s the guy calling all the shots over there.”

“All I know for sure is the Iranians are behind the kidnapping but that doesn’t mean that the Secretary is in Iran. He could be, but he could also be stashed in any of the neighboring countries Iran controls.”

“Aren’t they in bed with the Russians?”

“Friends with anybody who can strengthen their power, but possibly the Ayatollah views the Secretary of State as a trophy and wants him nearby.”

“I’ll go to Iran in the morning, Granddad. That will be step one. Getting close enough to do something.”

“I’ll call as soon as I have more information, son.”

“Thanks, Granddad.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tuesday, January 14th.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee sat at the breakfast table chatting to his brother, Ted, about the kidnapping of the Secretary and what it meant on a global scale.

“We cannot let them think there won’t be retaliation for this deliberate act of terrorism, Ted. What are your thoughts?”

“What exactly do they want with him, Lee? Will there be a ransom call or something they demand in exchange for Jesse’s safe return?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Call someone who can give you answers,” said Ted.

Lee stared at his cell phone uncertain who that person would be. “Any suggestions, Ted?”

One Observatory Circle. D.C.

Yvonne took her coffee into the sitting room to watch the early morning news, hoping for some word on the recovery of the Secretary of State. The same story was carried by every network—on every channel—but the story was exactly the same. They were all repeating the same script they had broadcast the night before. Nothing had changed.

She picked up her cell and called Tommy.

“Hey, Vonnie. You calling about Jesse?”

“Yes, I’m worried, Tommy. You’re closest to the situation. How is the search going?”

“Not worth a shit. We can’t find him, and we’ve got a lot of help from the city cops and the Presidential Guard. Hundreds of people are combing the city.”

Yvonne swallowed hard. She could hear the weight in his voice. “I feel so bad for him. I know what it’s like to wake up a prisoner and not have a clue where you are or what your captors want. It’s a terrible feeling.”

Tommy was quiet for a beat. Maybe he was remembering, too. “Yeah, you would.”

His voice was softer now. Not tired. Just… understanding. Then, back to business. “Do me a favor today, Vonnie?”

“Sure, what can I do?”

“Stick close to Lee. If there is a demand, it should land on the boss’s phone—either in the Oval or on his personal cell. The sooner we know who’s on the other end and what the fuck they want, the better it will be for Jesse.”

“I understand. I’ll stick close to him and monitor all of his calls.”

“Thanks, babe. Talk later.”

The line went dead.

“Whose calls are you monitoring?” Kamps sat down with a coffee mug in his hand.

“Tommy thinks if a demand is made for the Secretary, it will come straight to Lee.”

“Logical. It should.”

She studied him for a second. His face was unreadable, but there was something guarded in his eyes.

“Would you please come with me today, Chet?”

Kamps frowned as he thought about it.

“There will be unending shit going down today and I need you with me.”

“I guess I could come. I hate wearing a tie.”

“You need a tailor. Your suits would fit better and be a lot more comfortable if they were made to measure.”

Roy walked in at that moment and caught the tail end of Yvonne’s remark. “Nothing more handsome and debonair than a man in a custom-tailored suit.”

Kamps shot him a glare. “Shut up, Roy.”

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Lee had one of his aides stationed at Yvonne’s office door and the moment she arrived with Chet, they were summoned to the Oval Office.

Carter Levalley, Chief of Staff, sat to the right of the president’s desk and glanced up when Tara Cabello showed the duo in. He never looked particularly happy to see Yvonne and she was getting tired of his pinched expression and the way he peered at her over his wire-rimmed glasses.

“Morning, sir. You wanted to see us?”

Lee was on his feet the moment a lady entered the room. Old school but comforting at the same time. “Please sit over here where we can all be at ease.” He motioned towards the sofas. “Have you heard anything, Yvonne?”

Yvonne sat down and Kamps sat next to her.

“I talked to Tommy in Buenos Aires an hour ago and he said there was nothing new. Law enforcement in that city are out in full force searching diligently for Jesse.”

Tara tapped on the door and opened it to let Director Dunnett in. He was slightly late for the meeting and had been hurrying to get there. He had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m happy you could make it, Director,” said Lee.

“I’m not the bearer of good tidings, I’m afraid. I received confirmation that Iran has the Secretary of State and there is an unconfirmed rumor that they will be sending a message to the White House later today.”

“They cannot blatantly commit an act of terror for all the world to see and expect to walk away without repercussions.”

Color in Lee’s face rose quickly and he went silent for a moment. He gulped in oxygen and pointed a finger at Levalley. “Carter, set up a meeting in the Situation Room. I want everyone there immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Carter flitted out of the room and only a whisper of his cologne lingered on the air.

Yvonne relaxed when Levalley went out the door.

Situation Room. West Wing. D.C.

Kamps took a good look around. This was his first time in the Situation Room, and he wanted to remember what it felt like. He was so fuckin’ tense he thought he might laugh like a fuckin’ hyena out of nervousness.

Everyone remained standing until the president took his seat at the head of the table.

More top advisors had been recruited for the high-level meeting, including the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Carl Richardson. In full uniform, the general was seated at the table along with the new Deputy Director of the CIA, Logan Sterling.

“Director Vipond couldn’t make the meeting?” Lee posed his question to Sterling.

“I’m sorry, sir, he had to leave the country. He made a rush trip to Buenos Aires.”

“Of course, that’s where he should be,” said Lee. “At least one thing makes sense.”

When everyone was comfortably seated with coffee in front of them, Lee gave the floor to the Director of the NSA, Blaine Dunnett.

“Good morning, everyone. This morning we received confirmation from a reliable source that the Secretary of State was flown out of Buenos Aires minutes after his abduction and was subsequently taken to Tehran.”

“Do we know where in the city the Secretary is being held?” asked General Richardson.

“We do not,” answered Dunnett.

“Are Agents from the CIA field office in that city searching for the Secretary, Deputy Sterling?” asked the president.

“Yes, they are. I’ve been in touch with Special Agent Simon Hathaway and he’s in control of the situation in Tehran.”

“Were you able to recruit any additional manpower for them?” asked Yvonne.

“We don’t have permission yet to bring in military personnel from our bases in Iraq or Syria, but that’s a definite possibility, if the situation demands it.”

General Richardson spoke up. “I have a meeting scheduled at the Pentagon for later this afternoon and that will be the topic of discussion.”

“Thank you, General,” said Lee. “I might attend that meeting myself.”

“Of course, sir. You would be most welcome.”

Blackmore Residence. Buenos Aires. Argentina.

I could tell this was going to be one of those all-day-shit days from the minute I opened my eyes. I took pills for my headache. I drank black coffee. I watched Lukas and made him take his pills even when he was giving me those killer brown eyes—the ones where he hated the world and everybody in it.

Sitting at the island watching Florentina was my safe place. Kept me away from Lukas and Blacky. All I needed was one spark to set me off and I’d be bustin’ heads.

My sat phone rang on the granite surface beside me and Florentina smiled. She smiled every time my phone rang, and I didn’t know what it meant.

“Yeah, this is Donovan.”

“I’m landing at the airport, and we need to talk. Give me Blackmore’s address.”

Familiar voice and I didn’t want that voice near me. “What are you doing down here, Ben?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing, Donovan? I’m doing my fuckin’ job.”

I gave him the address and the call was over.

Blacky walked into the kitchen. “Who was that you were giving this address to?”

“Ben Vipond.”

Blacky frowned. “Fuck that, Tommy. I’m not sure I want him here. I don’t like him.”

I shrugged. “When he gets here, don’t let him in.”

Blacky gave me the finger and Florentia smiled.

Blacky’s cell rang, and it was his grandfather confirming the Iranian rumor. I already knew it was those fuckers, but other people needed to hear the words from somebody smarter than me.

Don’t take my fuckin’ work for it. My head is only holding together with fuckin’ Scotch tape.

Blacky ended the call hollering, “I have to go home to Texas. Somebody has to break it to the Quantrall family that Jesse has been snatched and he’s in fuckin’ Iran.”

“Go ahead, boss. I’m just waiting to get on a plane to Iran. Nothing you can do here.”

“What about the fuckin’ sniper?” Blacky paced. His cell rang again. “Ambassador Velasco, how can I help you?”

“I have wonderful news, sir. The Presidential Guard has apprehended the wounded sniper and he’ll be tried and executed according to law.”

“Excellent news. Where did they find him?”

“He had broken into a vet’s office to try to repair his gunshot wound, but he had lost too much blood. He passed out and was found in the morning by an assistant.”

“That’s the kind of luck we need,” said Blacky as he ended the call. “Well, that seals it. I’m going home to face Paul and Bobby and tell them about Jesse.”

Tyler being in a coma, he wouldn’t have to go through the worry of it all.

“That will be tough, boss. The Quantralls are a tight family.”

“None tighter. You and Lukas can stay here and use the house until you’re ready to leave for the airport. Florentina will lock up. Maybe I can get out of here before that fucker Vipond gets here.”

“If you hurry.”

Blacky rushed upstairs to pack and my cell rang again. Florentina smiled. This time it was Yvonne.

“Tommy, anything new?” she asked.

“Vipond is about to walk through the front door. I guess that’s new.”

“Is Ben in Buenos Aires?”

“Said he was, but I haven’t seen him. You might know more about where that guy is than me. Your leash.”

“Not funny, Tommy.” She giggled a little. Couldn’t help herself. “I don’t know where he is. We’re steering clear. Has to be that way and we both agreed.”

“Whatever you say. I have to go to fuckin’ Iran to get Jesse and Lee is so fuckin’ pissed at me, I don’t want to talk to him. Do you think you could meet me there for a bit more clout?”

“Is clout what we’re going to need to get the Secretary back?”

“Yep, and a shitload of it.”

“I’ll talk to Lee and tell him I’m going.”

“Attagirl.”

The front gate buzzed, and I let Vipond in. Blacky was upstairs getting ready to depart, but he didn’t make it out in time.

“Hey. Long flight?” Ben looked like shit, that crazy hair of his looked like a wig on sideways.

“You know it. Got a beer?”

“Yeah, come in the kitchen.” I walked that way and Ben followed me. “Florentina, this is Ben.”

“Buenos dias.”

“Same,” said Ben.

Being head of the CIA, I figured he could at least speak Spanish, but no sign of it.

I took two beers from the fridge and handed him one.

Blacky came downstairs with his bag in his hand, saw Ben in the kitchen and stepped in to acknowledge his presence. Even though he didn’t like the guy, he was too polite to do anything else.

“Director Vipond, welcome to my home. I have to go back to Texas to deal with the Quantrall family, but you’re welcome to stay here until Tommy and Lukas leave for Iran.”

Ben’s eyes widened and he turned to me, “You’re going to Iran right now?”

“Why wait? We know they have Jesse.”

“Are you positive? I have people working on it, but I don’t have confirmation.”

“Granddad is absolutely sure,” said Blacky.

“And who is your grandfather, sir?” Snotty tone.

“Blaine Dunnett. I’m named after him.”

“The circle remains unbroken.”

Vipond was lucky Blacky didn’t put a Parabellum in his head for that snide remark about his family. I’d seen him shoot people for less.

“Now that we’re sure Jesse is in Iran, Lukas and I are taking Air Force Two. That’s the plane the boss came to Buenos Aires on and that’s the plane we’re taking to Iran to bring him home. I just talked to Vonnie and she’s meeting me there.”

“What?” Ben looked like he might hemorrhage out his fuckin’ eyes when I mentioned Yvonne. “The vice president is flying to Iran? She shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Why not? I told her I needed clout to get the Sec back and she said she was coming to help me.”

“I should go too,” said Ben.

“What can you do that me and Lukas can’t do?”

“Connections, Tommy. I have connections all across the Middle East and Europe. I have a support team in Tehran, and I can pull in the military if we need them.”

“I know why you want to go, Vipond, and it ain’t to pull in the fuckin’ military. You can’t bullshit me. I can read you like a grade-one reader.”

Blacky hated tension and he opted out. “I have to leave now, Tommy. Y’all talk to me from Iran. I want to know what’s going on with Jesse.”

“Vonnie will have Kamps with her, boss. He’ll be our communicator.”

“Copy that. As long as somebody is keeping me in the loop.”

“The VP’s advisor will be with her?” Ben said, looking every bit the jealous boyfriend.

I laughed. “You think Kamps would let her go to Iran alone? You don’t know him.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know him.”

I shrugged. “Your loss. He’s way smarter than you, Ben. You can’t outthink him.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrugged again and opened my next beer.

Lukas came downstairs with his bag packed and saw Vipond in the kitchen. He stood and stared.

“Hey, Lukas. Look who popped in,” I said cheerily.

“I got eyes.”

Lukas walked past Ben and took a beer out of the fridge. He winked at Florentina, chugged the beer down and helped himself to another while the fridge door was still open.

Ben stared first at my brother and then at the bloody bandage on his hand. “You get hurt, Ranger Donovan?”

“I’ll be outside.”

Lukas walked out of the kitchen heading for the foyer and the front door.

Ben frowned. “Is your brother trying to intimidate me?”

“If he was, you wouldn’t be sitting there on that stool.”

Vice President’s Office. West Wing. D.C.

Before talking to the president about going to Iran, Yvonne and Chet had a preliminary conversation in her office. “Tommy says if I show up in Tehran, the head of the government will be obligated to talk to me, or he’ll lose face. If President Ahmadi refuses to negotiate the release of the Secretary of State, he’ll lose points with other powerful countries around the globe.”

“Yeah, Tommy is right about that. If the president refused to meet with you after you flew all the way over there, the story would be top news on every channel in the entire fuckin’ world.”

“Of course the Iranian president will hate talking to me because I’m a woman, but I’ll handle that.”

“I’ve been expecting a phone call or a message to be delivered to the president,” said Kamps, “but they could be taking their time on purpose. Building the tension and raising terror levels.”

“I don’t even want to know how those fanatics think,” said Yvonne. “Makes you wonder if they’ve ever had a rational thought.” She picked up her briefcase and stuck it under her arm. “Let’s go talk to Lee and see if he’s ready to play hardball.”

Kamps smiled.

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

“There you are, Yvonne. Are we making any progress this morning?”

“I’m afraid we won’t make much progress until I get to Iran, Lee.”

Lee’s hand went to his heart. “No, Yvonne. I’m not sure…” he trailed off.

Yvonne didn’t waver. “Would you contact the appropriate people and tell them you’re sending me to negotiate the return of the Secretary?”

“I can do that, yes. I’d be happy to, if you think this is the right way to handle it. Carter will take care of all the arrangements or have Brian do it. What else?”

“I need permission to use a plane and permission for Tommy and Lukas to use Air Force Two parked in Buenos Aires.”

“Yes, of course. That’s the plane Jesse used to attend the summit meeting.”

Yvonne could see the president had forgotten where Air Force Two was. “There’s been so much tension and you’re under a lot of stress. You’re not expected to remember where every plane in the fleet is, Lee.”

“Thank you for that, Yvonne. Very kind of you to say. Things are in a bit of an upheaval.”

“As soon as the plane is ready, I’ll be on it,” said Yvonne. “An hour to go home and pack and another hour to get to Andrews. Factoring in the length of the flight itself, I hope I arrive in time to do some good for the Secretary.”

Lee slouched behind his desk looking pale and extremely tired.

Yvonne fussed over him before she left. She fetched him a bottle of water from the fridge in the sideboard, and insisted he take a few sips.

“All you have to do is call Carter in here and give him a list of everything we need done in a hurry. I’ll call you as soon as Chet and I arrive in Tehran. If Carter prearranges anything at all with the Iranian government, have him send the itinerary to my phone and make sure you have a copy, so you’ll know exactly where I am and what I’m doing.”

Lee nodded. “I’ll do that. I’m worried about you, Yvonne. Putting yourself out there like this.”

“Chet will be with me, and he’s a tough guy. Tommy and Lukas will meet us there.”

“You have Chet as well as your Secret Service detail. They’ll be going with you.”

“Yes. Stop fretting.” Yvonne leaned down and hugged him. “Sometimes you forget I’m Army, through and through. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll have everything ready for you.”

“Thank you.”

On the drive home to Georgetown to pack and say goodbye to Roy, Yvonne called Tommy and told him to go. “You’ve been cleared for the plane, Tommy. Go now, I’m right behind you.”

“Copy that. See you there, Vonnie.”

Buenos Aires Airport. Argentina.

I got the call from Yvonne about the plane, and we were good to go. Our gear was already packed and sitting in the foyer of Blacky’s spare house. The only problem I could see was Vipond. The fucker was determined to come with us, and I couldn’t talk him out of it. Lukas hated the fucker. Should be a fun trip.

The idea of going back to Iran made me and Lukas feel like puking in our Rice Krispies, but there was no way around it. We had to forget about where we were going and focus on job one—getting Jesse out of there.

Ben’s security guys drove us to the airport and the plane was standing ready when we got there. Somebody was pulling the strings in D.C., and it had to be Yvonne. She knew how to get shit done—Army style.

The crew stowed our gear.

I helped Alfie up the steps. He hated the steps up to the fuckin’ plane and balked every fuckin’ time we had to board from the tarmac.

We boarded, grabbed cushy leather seats and buckled up. Ben sat with his security guys and opened up his briefcase as soon as we were in the air.

Best if he sat a long ways away from Lukas.

Long flight ahead.

Me, Lukas and Alfie slept.

Tehran Airport. Iran.

By the time we were wheels down in Tehran, my gut was heaving and my head pounding like a fuckin’ drum. It would take me hours to lose all the crap that came with the fuckin’ fracture.

Thank baby Jesus I’ve got little white pills left.

Two black SUVs with tinted windows were front and center waiting to pick up their supreme commander. Vipond’s guys hovered and swarmed like he was some kind of King of the fuckin’ Spooks. They grabbed his luggage and loaded it.

Ben turned and gave me a wave. “See you guys. Keep me in the loop.”

“This ain’t your op.”

“Out of country is my op,” he snarled. “Don’t matter where. Understand, Marshal?”

“I’m short on that, Ben. This one will be me, Lukas and the VP. If she shares with you, that’s up to her. Not my call.”

“I need to be in the loop.”

“You need to make sure you’re not left behind, bleeding to death in some fuckin’ ditch. Trust me—it fuckin’ sucks.”

Asshole.

In the terminal, I rented a Jeep. Me and Lukas hauled our own gear to the rental, put Alfie in the back seat and headed for our hotel. We planned to hunker down and wait for Yvonne and Kamps.

“Vipond is gonna be a pain in the ass,” said Lukas. In spite of his bandaged hand, my brother drove because after the flight, I could barely see my hand in front of my face.

“Yeah, he will be. He’s only here to sniff around Yvonne.”

Lukas didn’t want to hear me say that. Gave me the stink-eye and let it pass.

“Is he trained? Has he ever done work in the field?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hope he ain’t staying in our hotel, but wherever he’s staying, he’ll be following Yvonne around like a lost puppy.”

Lukas growled.

“I don’t want her distracted from our mission. After we get Jesse away from the Guard, and get him on a plane for home, I don’t care who Vonnie screws.”

“I might.”

Sometimes my brother surprised me, but not this time. Easy to see how worked up he was.

“Then if you do care, don’t sit around getting all pissy. Do something about it.”

“I think I will.”

Didn’t expect that answer.

“Attaboy.”

Grand Hotel. Downtown Tehran. Iran.

Me and Lukas and Alfie checked into our hotel and our room was nice enough. I ordered coffee from room service and helped Lukas clean up his hand and rebandage it. Not something he could do one-handed.

I fell asleep waiting for a call from Yvonne telling me her and Kamps had landed. She was about three hours behind us. I jumped when the phone finally rang.

“You here, babe?”

“It’s late and we’re exhausted. How about a breakfast meeting?” she asked.

“Fine with us. Text me when you get up.”

“I’ll do that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wednesday, January 15th.

Blaine’s Birthday.

The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

Blaine staggered into the kitchen half asleep looking for coffee. His flight from Argentina had been long and turbulent and he hadn’t slept much. He departed the plane with an upset stomach and a newly cultivated dislike of flying.

Turning twenty-seven and he was already a grumpy old man. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so fuckin’ true.

Carmelita hugged him and wished him a happy birthday in Spanish.

“Gracias, Carmy.”

He took his coffee to the little table in the window alcove and two handmade birthday cards were waiting for him. One from Forest and one from Noel.

Blaine smiled as he read the printed words and admired the pictures his children had drawn.

Misty joined him at the table moments later. “Happy Birthday, Beb.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel much like partying today, sweetheart, and it will get worse when I drive out to the Quantrall ranch.”

“I’ve been trying to receive a message from Jesse,” said Misty. “The distance is so great, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see where he’s being held.”

“Don’t give up, sweetheart. You may be his best chance of being found.”

“I won’t give up. Messages are delivered in different and often unexpected ways, and I’ll be watching for them.”

“Thank you. I love you, Mist. You are my heart and my anchor.”

Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

Blaine called ahead to give Annie a heads up and she was waiting on the porch for him when he arrived to pick her up. She climbed up on the side step and jumped into the Navigator.

“I’m not looking forward to this, sugar.”

“Me neither and that’s one of the reasons I asked you to come with me. I need some moral support when I talk to Paul and Bobby, Mom.”

“Those poor boys have been through so much with Jesse—his health and his bad marriages—I hate to see them suffer through another trauma.”

“True, but we can’t keep them in the dark. They’ve seen the news by now,” said Blaine, “and they must be worried out of their minds.”

“I want to go to Tehran myself to help Tommy and Lukas.”

“Mom, please don’t even say that out loud. I don’t want you there and I’m sure Tommy’s efforts would be compromised trying to keep you safe while he does his job. Don’t put that added burden on him, please. Let him extract Jesse and get it over and done with.”

Annie sighed as Blaine parked near the front steps of the Quantrall mansion. Built in the Spanish style by Lou Quantrall when he first struck oil, the huge house never seemed to age.

“Paul will be in the barn,” said Blaine.

“I’ll come with you, and we’ll talk to him together,” said Annie. “I don’t want Charity and Scotty knowing anything about their father being kidnapped. Best if we don’t talk in the house where they might overhear us.”

Paul and Bobby were both in the barn office working on paperwork for the Quantrall Appaloosa operation. The biggest in Texas.

Blaine tapped on the open door before walking in and disturbing them. “Hey, boys.”

Paul’s blue eyes widened. “This isn’t bad news about Jesse, is it?”

“No. We don’t know anything more yet,” said Blaine. “Mom and I came to tell you all we know and it’s not much more than what the news is saying.”

“Grab a stool and sit,” said Paul.

“We didn’t know who to call for more information,” said Bobby. “I suggested the State Department in Washington because that’s where Jesse works, but I had no idea who to talk to there.”

“The vice president is in Iran and this morning she’ll be trying to set up a meeting with President Ahmadi. As far as I know, Iran hasn’t said a word about what they want in return for Jesse’s release.”

“Any number of things they could ask for,” said Annie. “Some of which would be impossible for Yvonne to give up. Our policy is not to negotiate with terrorists, and right now the Iranian government falls into that category.”

“We don’t know what might happen,” said Blaine, “but when I hear anything from our people in Iran, I’ll pass it on.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Paul. “It’s been fuckin’ brutal sitting here in the dark knowing there’s not a goddamned thing we can do.”

“Keep the faith,” said Blaine. “Everything that can be done to find Jesse, is being done. Tommy and Lukas are there with the vice president and we have to trust that they’ll find Jesse and bring him home.”

“I’m so worried about the strain on his heart,” said Bobby. “I’m thankful Ty isn’t awake for this.”

Grand Hotel. Downtown Tehran. Iran.

Yvonne opened her eyes feeling restless and unrested, pangs of anxiety making her chest tight. Not an ideal way to start the day. She glanced around the unfamiliar hotel room and saw Chet sleeping in the other bed.

Having someone with Chet’s strong inner strength with her was comforting and watching him adapt to his role as her advisor was amazing.

She thought he might’ve put a move on her when they were alone in their room, but he didn’t. That freed her from having to turn him down, and she was glad of it.

I don’t want bad feelings between Chet and me. We have to work together and it’s up to me to nourish the accord we’re developing.

She reached for her phone to check for messages and there was a text from Ben.

“Where are you?”

“Grand Hotel in Tehran.”

“I hitched a ride with Tommy, and I want to see you.”

“You’re here in Tehran?”

“I couldn’t let you come alone.”

“I’m not alone. Chet is with me, and my security detail. Tommy and Lukas are also here, as you already know.”

“That’s not the same as me being here for you.”

“We can have lunch later and discuss the situation. I have to work on the problem this morning.”

“Text me a time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I will.”

She sent her last text and realized Chet was sitting on the side of his bed watching her. “Who are you texting?”

“Ben.”

“Don’t fuck around, Yvonne. You’re here for one reason only and that’s to get Jesse Quantrall back. You have to stay focused.”

Tears came and Yvonne had a momentary breakdown. “I know I can’t see Ben anymore, Chet. I’m trying to accept it.”

“I should be happy you realize that, babe. The last thing I want is you with Ben fuckin’ Vipond.” Chet moved to her bed and cuddled her. “But at the same time, I hate to see you so sad.”

“Just when I found somebody who might be right for me.”

Chet kissed her and held her close. “Don’t cry, babe. We can’t go for round three because it won’t work, but I don’t see Ben Vipond being the right one for you either.”

“Maybe there is no perfect person for me, Chet. Maybe I’m destined to be one of those old political hags that everybody in D.C. hates and makes fun of.”

Chet smiled. “You’ve got a ways to go before you turn into one of those.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am right.” He kissed her cheek.

Me and Lukas met Yvonne and Kamps for breakfast in the hotel dining room. While we ate, Kamps made a list of everybody in Tehran who could possibly help us get information on where Jesse was being held.

“What we need,” said Kamps, “is the inside track on the IRGC. We need to make contact with their leader.”

“Isn’t the Ayatollah the Supreme Commander of that group?” asked Yvonne.

“Yes. The Ayatollah is number one in all areas of government, but the most recent leader of the IRGC was removed and has been replaced by Tarek Quasim.”

“How would I make contact with him?”

“Ari might know,” said Lukas. The first words he’d spoken since he sat down for breakfast.

“The man you helped on your last visit to Iran, Lukas?” Yvonne asked Lukas a direct question that he could hardly avoid answering.

“Ari Kasim,” said Lukas. “He’s against the present government and when we left him last time Tommy and I were here, Ari planned to gather a group of rebel supporters after his wounds healed. He was determined to make a difference for his family.”

“Call and see if he can meet us here at the hotel,” I said. “We may be able to help him in his cause while he’s helping us.”

Lukas nodded and walked away from the table with his sat phone in his hand. He returned and said, “He can’t meet us here because he thinks he’s being watched. He’ll meet us at the big marketplace. It’s near his home.”

“What time?” I checked the super watch on my wrist.

“In an hour.”

Grand Bazaar. Tehran.

Lukas had been to the marketplace several times with Ari and knew the way. He drove us to the north end of the city and found a parking spot not too many blocks away from the market. I watched my brother around Yvonne, and he was handling her nearness better than I thought he might. The looks he gave Kamps were off-putting.

“There’s a café in the back corner where Ari likes the tea,” said Lukas. “I’ve met him there before.” He led the way, and we followed through the massive crowd of morning shoppers. The strong smell of spices and the odor of goats filled the air but didn’t mix well.

Yvonne was dressed casually in a dark suit with a scarf wrapped around her blonde head so she wouldn’t offend any male sensibilities while she was strutting around in public. With sunglasses on and the scarf, she blended in hoping no one would recognize her.

“I see him.” Lukas pointed and I saw Ari too.

With Alfie prancing on his leash, I strode towards Ari, and he grinned when he saw me. He stood up and I hugged him first and then Lukas took his turn. Alfie was excited to see Ari and ran circles around him.

“I never believed I would see my two American friends again. Lukas saved my life. Without him, I would never have had this opportunity to work for a more peaceful and less violent Iran. I have been truly blessed.” He sat down and rested his hand on Alfie’s head.

I didn’t think Ari could make a difference to a country ruled by the Ayatollah, but I didn’t want to say it out loud and burst his bubble.

He pointed to empty chairs, and we sat down.

“This is Vice President Harrison, Ari,” I said. “She’s here in Tehran hoping to speak to President Ahmadi and negotiate the release of our Secretary of State.”

“I understand. Wonderful to meet you in person, Madam Vice President. Such a reprehensible move against your government.”

“Yes, it was,” said Yvonne.

“The Ayatollah makes all the major decisions and directs every move in this country,” said Ari. “All those in our present government are merely puppets. The IRGC does the Ayatollah’s bidding, and they would’ve been the group who snatched the Secretary from Buenos Aires and brought him back here as a bargaining chip.”

“Do you have any idea what the Ayatollah might be bargaining for, Ari?” asked Yvonne. “What does he want from us?”

The waiter came around with a tray and gave them each a glass of specialty tea. Lukas picked his up and drank it while it was hot. Lukas drinking tea drew a stare from Yvonne.

“Your Secretary was originally coming to our country with the intention of negotiating a temporary cease-fire agreement with Israel and Lebanon if I remember correctly,” said Ari. “Then the Ayatollah suddenly changed his mind and cancelled the meeting.”

Yvonne nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with that,” said Ari.

“Could do,” I said, “but I doubt it. What do you think, Kamps?”

Kamps shrugged. “Jesse was already willing to come to Tehran to work on the cease-fire agreement. Why would the Ayatollah need to snatch him for that? Why would he need to snatch him at all? The president of Iran could’ve rolled out the welcome mat and invited him and the Sec’s trip would’ve been rescheduled immediately.”

“The Ayatollah cancelled the talks the first time around,” said Yvonne. “Maybe he believed the Secretary would refuse to come if the invitation was reissued.”

“It is difficult to know what the men in power are thinking,” said Ari, “because our country is being run by religious fanatics. Many of the top spots in our government are occupied by raving lunatics.”

Lukas nodded. “Ari, do you have any idea how we can contact Tarak Quasim, the leader of the IRGC?”

“My small group of patriots—we call ourselves FFR. In English—Fighters for Rights. Mobarzan Hoquq. We are monitoring the movements of Tarak Quasim.”

“You know his whereabouts then?” asked Yvonne.

“Yes, but he is well-guarded around the clock and getting close to him is next to impossible.”

“How many bodyguards does he have at any given time?” asked Lukas.

“We need a meeting with your men who have been watching him, Ari,” I said. “Could you arrange that?”

“Of course, Thomas. I will do everything I can to help you and Lukas. True friends are in short supply in this country.”

“Amen to that,” muttered Kamps.

“We will part for now,” said Ari, “but as soon as I have a safe place where we can gather, I will call.”

“We’ll be waiting for your call, Ari,” said Lukas.

We watched Ari disappear into the pulsing crowd of shoppers and Yvonne said, “He seems like a trustworthy person.”

Lukas nodded. “Like he said, he is a true friend. Ari almost died trying to help me find Tommy near the Afghanistan border. His wounds were…life-threatening, but he never stopped.”

CIA Field Office. Tehran.

Unannounced, Ben Vipond arrived at the Tehran field office and those agents who had never met him or seen his picture failed to recognize him. A little hard on Ben’s sometimes over-inflated ego.

Simon Hathaway, Special Agent in Charge, who had been with him since he landed in Iran, introduced the boss. “Director Vipond is here in Tehran, and he’d like to have a meeting with all of us present.”

“Of course, sir.” The female agent manning the front desk inside the rundown warehouse the CIA called home in Tehran, jumped to her feet and led them into a small meeting room next door.

“I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting you, sir. Can I get you coffee?”

Ben nodded. “Coffee would be excellent. Thank you. When we’re ready to start, I want to be introduced to all of you and get to know each of you a little better so that we’re working together as one cohesive unit.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ben desperately wanted his team in the field office to come up with a solid lead on the Secretary’s whereabouts. Anything he could take to Yvonne. A legitimate reason to be near her and at the same time impress her.

We have to come up with something.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee sat at the head of the dining room table with the Post in his hand. Barely time to focus on the headline before his cell phone interrupted him. He didn’t recognize the number but could see it had an out-of-country prefix.

“This is President Armstrong.”

At first there was garbled screaming in his ear in a language he guessed might be Farsi.

“Who’s calling, please?” Lee didn’t want to hang up in case the call had something to do with Jesse’s kidnapping.

“President Ahmadi calling you, President Armstrong. I wish to condemn you as leader of the Great Satan for sending your woman vice president to me uninvited. What made you think I would speak to a woman about matters that only men should be discussing?”

“Vice President Harrison is fully capable of discussing anything with you that I could have. I urge you to present to her what you want for the safe return of Secretary of State Quantrall.”

“In your short-sighted haste to resolve the matter, you have angered the Ayatollah and further endangered the life of your Secretary.”

The phone went dead, and President Ahmadi was gone.

Ted’s eyes were focused on his brother waiting to hear the details. “Was that the call from Iran you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes, it was. Definitely not the call I was looking for, Ted. President Ahmadi is livid because Yvonne is in Tehran. He’s saying it’s beneath him to meet or negotiate with a woman.”

“Will you have to end up going yourself before this is all over?”

Lee sighed. “I don’t know where any of this is leading. What the hell do they want from me? I wish they’d just come out with it.”

“When you figure out what time it is there, you should call Yvonne and talk to her directly. She’s close to the situation now and may be able to help you get a better grasp on what’s happening.”

“You’re right. I’ll do that.” Lee sighed and shook his head. “I feel so bad for Jesse. He’s such a good person to have this happen to him.”

“Tommy will find him and get him back, Lee. Have a little faith.”

“I have all the faith in the world in Tommy, but I can’t call and ask him how he’s doing because he’s furious with me and I doubt if he’d take my call.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Ted. When Tommy’s got a grudge, he’s a junkyard dog with a bone. Anyone would be hard-pressed to get him to drop it and would probably get bitten for their effort.”

Carpet Museum of Iran. Tehran.

Ari led the way to the carpet museum. A quiet place where he and his men had met several times in the past and no one questioned them or bothered them. A large group would draw attention, so only three of his most trusted recruits waited in the designated room.

Yvonne was in awe of the hand-woven carpets that had survived hundreds of years. The gorgeous patterns and colors, handmade dyes. Every knot hand tied. Truly amazing. What she wouldn’t give to have one of those carpets in her townhouse.

They stood in a small group admiring the carpets hanging majestically on the walls and Ari introduced his three followers. “This is Zohan, Kam and Parsa.”

“Wonderful to meet you all. I’m Yvonne.”

Ari shook his head. “They will call you Madam out of respect for your position.”

Yvonne smiled. “That’s fine.”

In a whisper, Ari asked Kam where they had last seen Tarek Quasim.

Kam answered in rapid Farsi and Ari nodded his head.

I wished I spoke the language, and I had tried to learn a few words when Lukas and I were here before, but it was too hard for my fractured brain.

“Kam says, Quasim has a secure villa in Elahiyeh. It’s a neighborhood for the wealthy, for diplomats and such,” said Ari.

“Street address?” I asked, and Kam wrote it down for me. “Thank you.”

“What do you plan to do, Thomas?” asked Ari.

“I’m not sure. If the villa is well protected, we may need more men to take Quasim alive.”

“I see,” said Ari. “You would take him and perhaps trade him for your Secretary.”

“Something like that,” I said, and Yvonne nodded.

“We need a planning session.”

“We definitely do,” said Kamps.

Zohan, one of Ari’s other men spoke to him in Farsi and Ari translated. “Zohan says, he would be happy to help you when it’s time to capture Tarek Quasim.”

“Appreciate that, Zohan.” I shook his hand, and he grinned.

Lukas stepped up and shook Zohan’s hand too. “If I can help Ari with his fight, I will,” said Lukas.

Ari smiled. “My American friends are as loyal as blood brothers to me.” He repeated in Farsi what he said to the three guys with him, and they smiled.

Grand Hotel. Tehran.

After the trip to the museum, we had time for a short rest in our room before dinner, then Lukas and I cleaned up and met Yvonne and Kamps downstairs in the hotel dining room.

This was one of the few hotels in Tehran that had a bar and offered alcoholic drinks. We got lucky when Kamps booked our reservation here. Maybe it wasn’t luck. Kamps could’ve done the research. He was one of the most thorough guys I had on my team.

While we glanced at the menu, I ordered a round for the four of us.

Yvonne’s cell signaled a text, and the corner of her mouth curved in the beginning of a smile.

Ben.

I focused on Kamps’ face and watched his expression as he concentrated on what Yvonne was typing. The guy could probably read texts upside down and sideways. That’s how smart he was.

The waiter came with our drinks and set them down. I told him we weren’t quite ready to order, and he buzzed off for a few more minutes.

“Director Vipond has information to share and he’s going to drop by in a while. I told him we were having dinner.”

“Did he mention what information he possessed?” asked Kamps.

“Just that it was important.”

“Important,” repeated Kamps. “I’m not high on Vipond or on him being here in Tehran, but personal feelings aside, we can’t afford to pass anything up, Yvonne. One small detail might lead us to Jesse.”

“Of course, you’re right.”

Lukas rolled his eyes.

We were still drinking coffee after dinner when Ben Vipond showed up. With a cluster of security men flanking him, he strutted into the dining room, stood next to our table and smiled down at Yvonne. “Could I possibly speak to you alone at a different table?”

“If you think it’s necessary.” Yvonne got up and followed Vipond to an empty table two rows away from us.

“Why couldn’t you talk in front of the people I’m with, Ben? A little rude, don’t you think?”

“Might have come off as rude, but I need to talk to you in private, Yvonne. I’m missing you badly.”

“On a personal level, I think we’re missing each other, but professionally, we’re here to rescue the Secretary of State and that’s who we have to focus on.”

“I am focusing on just that and I have all my people here in Tehran putting feelers out. The agents in the field office here know the city better than any of us, and they’ll be the ones to locate Secretary Quantrall.”

Yvonne was about to tell him about locating the leader of the IRGC and then chose not to in case Ben did something to screw up the plan Kamps, Lukas and Tommy were forming.

The plan was in its infancy but knowing Ben a little better now than she had at first, Yvonne believed he might step in and try to take over and ruin the entire op. Tommy had vocalized this take-over tendency to her before, but she was now seeing it as a personality trait that she didn’t care for.

Ben leaned in closer, “We need some alone time, Yvonne. Can you get away from your advisor and spend some quality time in my hotel room? I’m missing you so badly, and I would hate to think I flew all the way over here with Donovan and never got to sleep with you once.”

He grinned and Yvonne did not smile. She was livid. She was so angry she didn’t know what to say to him. She was saved by the bell. The president was on her phone and at that moment, Lee Armstrong was the lesser of two evils. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to know how the negotiations are progressing, Yvonne. Do you have a meeting set up with President Ahmadi?”

“Not yet. Did you receive any demands from him?”

“No demands, but I did receive an irate phone call. It seems he’s incensed that I sent a woman to talk to him on my behalf.”

“I feared that would be a stumbling block, but if other things work out, I many not have to talk to him at all. That would be the best scenario.”

“What other things? I need to know the details, Yvonne. This is a tense situation that could flare up at any moment.”

“If we are able to get the Secretary back without negotiations, the Iranians will look like fools, and more importantly be exposed as the terrorists they are. We will exaggerate that and make sure the world sees them as such.”

“I wish to know immediately if there are any further developments, Yvonne. Sitting here in Washington in the dark is not pleasant.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, sir. I’ll be calling as soon as I have something positive to tell you.”

“Thank you, Yvonne. Let’s make sure we’re on the same page. I’m not some flunky you can randomly fill in when the mood strikes you.”

“What do you mean by that, Lee?” Yvonne snapped at the president. “When have I ever treated you in such a manner?”

“I’m sorry, Yvonne. Just the stress. I’m sorry.”

She pressed end and cut Armstrong off.

I’m done with his whining and his bullshit. He sent me here to do the job and I’m going to do it.

With the president on her back wanting more results, and Ben pressing her for sex in his room, Yvonne’s mood changed in zero to sixty from pleasantly optimistic to down-and-dirty defensive.

She hopped up and left Ben at the table with his detail hovering like crows over carrion and went back to her own table. “We’ll talk in my suite. It’s too crowded and exposed down here for my liking.”

Kamps grinned and Lukas rolled his eyes at Tommy.

Downtown. Tehran.

Men came into his room, said nothing and put the bag over his head again. It stunk of sweat and vomit and Jesse thought he might throw up from the stench of it.

“Where are you taking me?”

None of the men spoke to him. They had orders and they were following them—simple as that.

He was taken out a back door of the building he was in and shoved into the back of a van. That was about all he could tell.

The floor of the van was made of corrugated metal and highly uncomfortable, but he was allowed to sit up and that was better than lying flat on his back and suffering a rougher ride.

Several chest pains had come and gone, but nothing debilitating. He was hungry and thirsty, but not to the point of distress.

My people have to be looking for me. It’s a waiting game.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Thursday, January 16th.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Ted joined his brother at the breakfast table and wasn’t pleased to see that Lee was in another of his foul moods. In Ted’s estimation, the unpleasant side of Lee’s personality was appearing more and more frequently and making him hard to live with.

“Sitting around here in the White House and not knowing what’s going on in Iran is killing me, Ted. Any words of wisdom to offer?” Lee chuckled. “I’d even take one of those old mountain adages if you have one handy.”

Ted laughed. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with any mountain sayings pertaining to kidnapping of government officials. Never had anything like that happen up Purple Mountain. My neighbors are pretty contented folks.”

“More and more I’m considering becoming one of your neighbors, Ted.”

“Stretch and I would be happy to have you and Roxy up there with us, Lee. It would make my life a whole lot easier if I knew you were safe.”

“It has been hectic for me lately.” Lee unconsciously rubbed one of his latest injuries. “You heal in time, but you’re never as good as new. That cliché definitely is not true.”

“You’re left with the scars as reminders.”

“Some of the pain too.” Lee took a sip of his coffee. “Do you have any idea what time it is in Iran?”

“Not a clue. You can Google it.” Ted laughed.

The Blackmore Agency. Austin. Texas.

Since before dawn, Misty had been locked in the attic meditating. Putting all of her energy and her talent into it, she was trying to visualize where Jesse was being held prisoner in Iran.

Blaine wasn’t allowed to climb that steep, narrow flight of stairs to the third floor of the old Victorian house because of his breathing problem, so he impatiently waited for his wife to come down.

He poured himself a mug of coffee in the kitchen and sat at the little drop-leaf table in the window alcove to check his emails.

One sip of his coffee and Paul Quantrall was on the phone.

“Those goddamned ranchers have been up for hours when regular people haven’t had their first coffee.” Blaine sucked in a ragged breath, “Paul, you okay?”

“Not really, Blacky. You hear anything new? Charity is old enough to understand what is happening to her daddy and she’s been crying a lot. I’m fishing for something. Anything at all I can tell her.”

“I know for sure that there is an army of people trying to find Jesse and I’m sure we’ll hear more today.”

“I hope so.” Paul sighed. “If there hasn’t been any positive news by the end of the day, I’m going over there.”

“You can’t go, Paul.”

“Why the hell not?” He snapped out his angry question.

“Iran is an unfriendly country and even if you do manage to get in, you may not get out. I can’t let you take that chance. What would Shannon do if you never came back?”

“You’re exaggerating, Blacky, and I don’t see how you could stop me if I decided to go.”

“I’m sure I could stop you, Paul. Do not push this. It’s the wrong way to handle it.”

Paul ended the call pissed at him and Blacky was still shaking his head when Misty walked into the kitchen.

She sat down opposite him and asked, “Do you have a number for Thomas?”

“Yes. Both numbers are in my cell contacts. Do you need to talk to him?”

“I do.”

“Wonderful. Let me get him on the phone for you, sweetheart.”

Misty smiled and stroked Blaine’s long black hair. “Thank you, Beb.”

Grand Hotel. Downtown Tehran. Iran.

The sat phone’s shrill ring ripped through my skull like a damn gunshot.

I flinched, groaning, as pain splintered across my forehead, hammering down into the base of my neck.

For a second, I wasn’t sure where I was.

My vision blurred and swam, the room still half-dark. Shadows bled into each other.

Breathe. Just breathe.

I forced my eyes to focus on the glowing numbers of the clock—four a.m.

My chest tightened.

Ellis. The kids. Something had to be wrong.

I fumbled for the phone, knocking over a bottle of water in the process.

My fingers barely found the answer button in time.

“Donovan.” My voice was hoarse. Ragged.

Misty’s voice floated through the line, slow and steady. “Thomas, I received a message.”

I exhaled, relief crashing through me. Not my kids.

But still—bad fucking news.

I rubbed my temple, trying to squash the pounding in my skull. I needed one of those little white pills, pronto.

“That’s great, Misty. Gimme a sec.”

I forced my limbs to move, reaching for a notepad and clicking a pen open with clumsy fingers.

Light flooded the room.

Lukas groaned from his bed, rolling over. “Tommy, turn the fuckin’ light off. What the hell are you doing?”

I ignored him.

“Go ahead, Misty. I’m ready.”

Her voice stayed smooth, even. “I see gorgeous flower gardens. Large fountains.”

I scribbled furiously.

“A forest. Many old buildings. Only one has a green hue. Green paint, maybe, or moss. Perhaps the reflection of the plants around it. But my inner eye is drawn to it.”

I fought to focus, my head throbbing harder.

Green. Could mean anything.

“Okay. Got it. Anything else?”

“Fences. Guards. Small rugs.”

That one threw me. “Rugs?”

“Yes, and a beautiful sunrise. Or sunset. I can’t tell which.”

I blinked hard, forcing the words to settle in my brain.

It was all too vague. Too cryptic.

“What do you think it means?”

Misty’s voice softened. “The Fates don’t speak as we do, Thomas. They give us these gifts for us to interpret.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “You’re the best, Misty. Thanks. I hope we can figure this out in time to save Jesse.”

“You will.” A pause. Then, softer: “The Fates will support you, Thomas.”

Lukas was awake now, sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He reached for his smokes, lit one and inhaled deep.

“Misty had some input?” he said with a snide tone.

“Yeah.” I waved the notebook at him. “And don’t give me that look. You can’t deny she’s helped before.”

Lukas took another drag off his cigarette.

He didn’t answer because he couldn’t. She had been right before. More than once.

“This one’s weird, though.” I rubbed my temple. “None of it makes sense to me.”

I read off the list. “Mean anything to you?”

Lukas shook his head. “Nope, but I ain’t local.”

“Good point. Let’s call Ari.”

Lukas narrowed his eyes. “Now?”

“Jesse might not have a lot of time.” I pointed at the phone. “Wake him up. Piss him off. I don’t care.”

Lukas sighed, grabbed his cell, and dialed.

He put it on speaker.

The line rang twice. Then, a groggy, half-irritated voice answered.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Sorry to wake you, Ari.” Lukas’ tone was apologetic but firm. “It’s Lukas and Tommy. We have information.”

Ari exhaled sharply.

“Vital information. In the middle of the night. From whom?”

Lukas hesitated.

I nodded. Tell him.

“A reliable source, Ari,” Lukas said with less enthusiasm than I had hoped.

A beat. Then, dryly: “There are no reliable sources in Tehran, my friend.”

“Trust me.” Lukas leaned forward. “This informant has helped us before.”

Another pause. Then, a long sigh.

“What’s the information, my friend Lukas?”

Lukas hesitated. Then— “It’s more like random images. We need someone local to piece it together.”

The line was quiet for a long moment.

“Did you commune with a mystic?”

Lukas gave me a wide-eyed look.

What the fuck should I say?

I gestured.

Tell the truth.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. A friend from Texas.”

Ari perked up instantly. “Excellent. Mystics are an underrated tool for law enforcement.”

Lukas blinked. Not the reaction he was expecting.

“You’re good with that?”

“Persia—Iran—has a long history of mystics. It is woven into our belief structure.”

That got my attention.

“You actually believe this stuff?” asked Lukas.

Ari chuckled. “Unlike the West, we have not abandoned all old ways.”

Lukas ran a hand through his hair. “Well… shit. That’s unexpected.” Lukas nodded, surprised but rolling with it. He explained Misty’s vision.

We heard movement. Paper shuffling. The creak of a chair. A heavy sigh.

“I wrote everything down.” A pause. “It could mean many things.”

A long beat.

Then, slowly:

“At first, I thought perhaps the Saadabad Palace complex.”

Lukas and I glanced at each other.

“But…” Ari trailed off.

I clenched my jaw. “But?”

Another pause. Then, more certain:

“No. It must be the Green Palace.”

I sat up straighter, my headache forgotten.

“You’re sure?”

“It is the most logical interpretation.”

Lukas frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Ari’s voice grew animated. “It is not as famous as the sphinxes of Egypt or other wonders of the world, which is a shame.” A pause. “Did you know Constantine the Great—yes, the Roman emperor—once stayed there?”

Lukas blinked. “Holy shit.”

“Sadly,” Ari sighed, “Iran’s shared history with the West is often buried and forgotten.”

I exhaled sharply. “If this is the place, how do we get in?”

“I will text you an address. Meet me there immediately. We must move before sunrise.”

The line went dead.

Seven minutes later, we were packed and out the door.

Alfie jumped in the back, fully geared.

I grabbed my sat phone and dialed Yvonne.

She answered, groggy. “Tommy? It’s really early.”

“No time to chat. Shit’s goin’ down. Call Air Force Two. Get it spooled up. We’ll be comin’ in hot.”

She wasn’t groggy anymore.

“You have Jesse?”

“Goin’ now. We’ll call when we got him.”

Five a.m. Rescue Mission, Tehran.

Tehran was eerily quiet at this time of night. The kind of quiet that felt unnatural.

Lukas had grumbled the whole way there, still skeptical about Misty’s vision. She was a million miles away.

How the fuck could she know enough to give those clues?

But she did. Again.

I didn’t say anything to Lukas. I didn’t need him to believe. I just needed him to aim straight.

The Green Palace loomed ahead, a shadowy silhouette against the fading darkness.

Ari’s men were already in position, crouched low, weapons locked and ready, just waiting for us. Counting heads, we had forty hardened fighters—men with nothing to lose.

Plus, me and Lukas.

We left Alfie in the SUV for this one.

Ari moved between his fighters, handing out extra clips.

Lukas and me lit up smokes, watching the sky.

We needed to move before the first golden sliver of daylight cracked the horizon.

Prayer time would end then, and we’d lose our surprise.

Five-ten a.m. Assault on the Green Palace

The compound was crawling with guards. More than expected.

“They doubled the fuckin’ watch,” Lukas muttered. “They must suspect something.”

“They probably added guards because of your Secretary,” he replied.

Lukas sighed. “We need a diversion.”

I nodded, but Ari spoke up first. “My men will toss flashbangs at the farthest building from the Green Palace and draw the guards away. That should buy you time.”

It sounded like suicide, but they were determined.

Ari explained to his men, who quickly prepped the grenades and moved into position.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Explosions erupted around Building One, shooting white-hot light and concussive force throughout the area. I could feel the ground shake. So could my skull.

The guards lurched off their prayer mats, shouting and grabbing weapons as confusion swirled like smoke.

Lukas and I moved fast, weaving through the chaos.

The Green Palace was just ahead.

Fuck.

Two guards held their position, barking orders, hands on their rifles.

Lukas closed the gap in three strides, slamming his knife into the first guy’s throat. A wet, choking gasp.

The second reached for his rifle.

I didn’t even slow down. Two quick shots exploded his skull, and he dropped to the manicured grass below.

We pushed forward, stepping over the corpses.

Five-fifteen a.m. Inside the Green Palace

“Guard our exit,” Lukas hissed before vanishing into the darkness like a ghost.

I clicked on my tactical flashlight, scanning nearby rooms.

Jesse had to be here.

My skull throbbed like a war drum from those flash bangs. My vision flickered at the edges. The pill wasn’t kicking in fast enough. Every sound was like a hammer against my brain.

Jesse had to be here.

So many doors. Too many shadows.

Then—movement.

Lukas bolted from the hallway, Jesse slung over his shoulder, fireman-carry.

Jesse’s face was pale, sunken—but alive.

“I’ll block for you, bro. Stay right behind me.”

A cough rattled in Jesse’s chest.

We moved fast.

Then—gunfire, right outside our exit. Shouting. Boots pounding marble.

Shit. We weren’t alone.

A figure lunged from the side, curved blade flashing in the dim light.

Too bad for him—this wasn’t a knife fight.

I squeezed the trigger.

Bang. Bang.

Double tap.

The shots echoed, blood spraying the wall behind him.

More footsteps outside. More voices.

We were about to be pinned down.

Five-twenty a.m. Courtyard Ambush

We pushed into the open courtyard—right into a fuckin’ ambush.

Gunfire exploded from the rooftops. Bullets chewed into stone, pinging off pillars, tearing into the dirt.

Lukas ducked behind a toppled statue. I was right beside him. He leaned Jesse between us.

“We’re fucked,” Lukas said, checking his rounds.

“Not yet,” I growled.

Ari’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “Hold position! We’re coming to you.”

More bullets screamed past us from above, peppering the stone around us.

“Fuck me. There are too many angles to cover, and they got snipers. We’re pinned down.”

He was right. We were cut off. No cover between us and the exit.

Then—Ari and his men arrived, charging forward, bold as hell, making themselves targets.

Not all of them would leave. But they would die with honor.

They had pushed back the guards and added numbers to our location.

We had a chance.

Five-twenty-five a.m. The Escape.

“Get ready to move,” shouted Ari.

The remaining guards outside Building One had regrouped with their comrades.

Gunfire cracked through the air.

“Frags,” Ari shouted, and his men hurled grenades toward the Guards.

I yanked two frags from my vest and tossed them, one after the other.

Boom. Boom.

The courtyard was enveloped with dust, rolling across over the corpses and obscuring everyone’s view.

But it was enough of an opening.

“I got Jesse. Get our wheels,” I barked.

One look between us, and then Lukas bolted.

Ari’s fighters laid down cover fire, bullets chewing the dirt around them.

An FFR fighter dropped instantly. Then another. A third staggered, still shooting, before collapsing.

But when one fell, another took his place.

Explosions rocked the compound. Ari’s men lobbed grenades onto the rooftop.

Boom. Boom.

A sniper’s body arced through the air, engulfed in flame and landed ten feet away.

Ari’s voice roared through the chaos. “Get the secretary out.”

I didn’t hesitate.

I grabbed Jesse and ran.

Five-thirty a.m. Into the SUV

Gunfire shredded the air around us, but Ari’s men held the line, fighting to the last.

Some died fast. Others kept shooting until their clips ran dry.

I burst through the gate, Jesse moaning from all the bouncing.

Lukas pulled up to the curb, wheels screeching.

I tossed Jesse in the back, then turned.

Ari and his men were conducting a fighting retreat.

I emptied the mag in my AR and provided cover for them.

His men were falling.

Our eyes met.

Ari nodded, then whistled loud as hell. His men tossed smoke grenades, covering their escape.

His remaining men tossed smoke grenades, then scattered.

Ari sprinted to our vehicle and jumped in the hatch with Alfie.

I rode shotgun, firing my Eagle out the window.

Lukas floored it.

Five-thirty-five a.m.

Jesse was barely conscious.

I cut the plastic ties on his wrists and ankles.

He winced, rubbing his hands. He had his suit pants on—that’s it.

Fucking bastards took everything.

Except his life.

Lukas gripped the wheel, face stone-cold.

I checked Jesse over. Bruised. Dehydrated. A few cuts. But alive.

“You’re safe, boss,” I murmured. “next stop—Air Force Two.”

Jesse mumbled something, but he was too dry to talk.

I gave him some water, and after a minute, he seemed better.

“Thanks, boys. Where am I, exactly?”

“Tehran,” I said. “The IRGC had you snatched. Sent by the Ayatollah.”

Jesse chuckled weakly. “Incredibly bold but stupid move.”

I cracked my knuckles.

“Well, we’re reversing that now. We’ve snatched you back and we’re sending you home.”

Jesse half-smiled. “I feel like a ping pong ball.”

I grinned. “Glad you can still joke, boss.”

Jesse nodded, voice hoarse. “Nothing else but to laugh. Thanks again, boys.”

Jesse crashed.

Five-Forty a.m. Tehran Airport. Iran.

“Vonnie, it’s us. We got him. I repeat—we got him.”

The Vice President hesitated. “Is he…alive?”

I snorted. “Of course he’s fuckin’ alive. We’ll be at the airport in an hour. I don’t see any of the Revolutionary Guard after us, but that could change in a heartbeat. What’s the plan, boss? Are we bugging out?”

Yvonne didn’t hesitate. “We are not bugging out. Get Secretary Quantrall on that plane, and then we’ll go after Quasim. Meet me at the hotel for a planning session.”

“No time for meetings, Vonnie,” I said. “We just kicked the fuckin’ hornet’s nest, and the clock is ticking fast. We either do this now, or we bug out and come back.”

“Does your friend still know his location?”

Ari shouted from the rear hatch, “I will make a call to confirm he is still at home.”

“He’s with you now?” Vonnie asked, surprised.

Lukas piped up. “Couldn’t have done it without him. This boy deserves a medal, Yvonne.”

We could hear her snicker. “I’ll see what I can do, and thank you for your help, sir. In the meantime, anything you need?”

“We’ll need more firepower, ammo and grenades. Body armor would be nice, too.”

“And maybe a sandwich, please,” Ari said from the back.

Yvonne chuckled. “I’ll arrange it all. Talk soon.”

Six a.m. Grand Hotel. Downtown Tehran.

Yvonne, Chet and her Secret Service detail packed their belongings in a hurry. By six in the morning, everyone was in the lobby with their bags, ready to depart.

The sun was just coming up.

“Leaving so soon, Madam Vice President?” asked the Hotel desk clerk with a smarmy grin.

His comment caught Yvonne off guard, but only for a moment. “We need to move locations to continue our negotiations with President Ahmadi.”

“Of course, Madam Vice President.”

The Secret Service had the SUVs packed in minutes, and the entire entourage was on the move.

Chet plunked away on his laptop as they pulled out of the hotel.

“Are we heading to the plane, Ma’am?”

“Not yet. We need to pay a visit to the CIA field office. You boys know where that is?”

Chet stopped plunking and stared at Yvonne.

Her lead agent turned in his seat to face the VP directly. “We do, ma’am, but I have to advise against this. Our job is to keep you safe, and if I’m correct about what just happened, we need to get you out of here.”

“Negative, Agent. What we need to do is support our team on the ground in any way possible. Your destination is the CIA field office. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, Ma’am. Should I call and let them know?”

“Negative. Let’s call it a surprise inspection.”

The lead agent grinned. “Copy that, Ma’am.”

Kamps leaned closer in the back seat. “We’re not done here?”

“Not by a long shot.” She replied. “I want to take out the leader of the IRGC.”

Kamps shook his head. “This is a bad idea, Yvonne. Going this route is dangerous and unnecessary. We have the Secretary back. To attack the IRGC would start something that might get completely out of hand.”

Yvonne faced Kamps. “I respect your position, Chet, but this is the ugly side of politics that Lee doesn’t like or understand. If we don’t retaliate in some way, the terrorists receive no punishment for their actions. That’s as good as giving them the go-ahead to do it again. They need to realize our administration has changed our ways.”

Chet listened and nodded by the end. “I understand where you’re coming from, and there’s wisdom in that. But should you run it by Lee first?” asked Chet.

Yvonne pulled out her phone. “I’ll call him now.”

Chet rubbed his bald head. “I’m not sure he’ll be in favor of this course of action.”

Vonnie scoffed as she looked out the window. “I can guarantee you that he won’t be, but that’s why he brought me on board. He’s the sensible one. I’m the enforcer.”

Six-ten a.m. Tehran Airport. Iran.

Air Force Two was ready to take off.

Great job, Vonnie.

We got Jesse into the cabin, where he was immediately surrounded by medical personnel and his Security Detail.

“Buckle in, boys,” one of the DSS agents said.

Lukas grinned like a fuckin’ psycho. “We ain’t goin’ home yet. The job ain’t done till someone pays.”

Jesse shook our hands. “Thanks again, boys. See you back in D.C.”

“Copy that, boss.”

“And boys—be careful.”

One-thirty p.m. D.C. Time. Oval Office. D.C.

Lee was in the middle of an argument with a senator when Yvonne called. The senator was in mid-bitch when Lee held up his hand.

“Sorry, Bart. I have to take this.”

Bart looked like he wanted to kill Lee, but he held it together. “Of course, sir. By all means, go ahead.”

His sarcasm wasn’t lost on Lee. Noted.

Lee slipped into his private bathroom. “Hi, Yvonne. Any good news?”

“Yes, sir. Jesse is on Air Force Two on his way to Andrews. A few bumps and bruises, but nothing too serious.”

“That’s excellent news.”

“Indeed, sir. He should see his cardiologist immediately when he lands.”

“I’ll have his plane met and make the necessary arrangements.” Lee paused briefly. “Was it Tommy who found him?”

“Yes. Tommy and Lukas. They haven’t filled me in on exactly how yet. Possibly help from a local group. We might have an opportunity to support them, but we can discuss that later.”

“Are you on your way back today, too?”

“No, sir. It’s early morning here, and we still have work to do.”

Lee’s chest tightened. “What kind of work?”

“Are you sure you want to know, Lee?”

Lee huffed. “I’m the president, Yvonne. I’m sure I want to know.”

“I’m not leaving until the leader of the IRGC has been brought to justice. They are terrorists, and we do not negotiate with terrorists.”

Lee’s voice lost its assuredness. “That is our policy, but⁠—”

“No buts, Lee. We cannot walk away from this. We must make it clear that there are consequences to their actions. If I leave now that we have Jesse back, we will be sending the wrong message to President Ahmadi and the Ayatollah.”

“I understand, but I’m worried how the IRGC might retaliate.”

“You won’t have to wait long, Lee. A few hours, tops.”

When Lee spoke, he whispered. “I won’t order you not to do it, but I’d prefer you wait.”

“For what, Lee?”

“To see if President Ahmadi issues an apology.”

“We’re the United States, Lee. We don’t wait for apologies from terrorists.”

“But it’s⁠—”

Yvonne became aggressive. “They didn’t ding our car door in the grocery parking lot, Lee. They kidnapped our Secretary of State and transported him around the world. There are no adequate apologies. We don’t wait, Lee. We show them there are consequences.”

“Yvonne, please don’t do anything rash.”

“Never, sir. I am far too disciplined for ‘rash.’ But I need to ask—do you trust my judgment?”

Trust, Lee thought. Here we go again.

“I trust your judgment, Yvonne. That’s why I selected you.”

“Then trust your own judgment and let me take care of this.”

Lee sighed again. “Perhaps it’s better if I am in the dark.”

“Perhaps so, sir.”

“Call me when it’s done, and you’re on your way home.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please, stay safe, Yvonne.”

CIA Field Office. Tehran.

Yvonne’s appearance at the field office startled Ben Vipond and he floundered for the first few minutes. Then he got hold of his wits and began falling all over himself to comply with whatever it was she wanted.

He introduced his agents to the vice president, and they were stunned and more than a little amazed to have her strolling around their dirty warehouse picking out ordnance.

Yvonne let her gaze sweep the room.

Dust motes floated in the artificial light, old fluorescent fixtures buzzing overhead. The air smelled of stale coffee, cordite, and bureaucracy.

She nodded, army-style, then continued. “Director Vipond. We require your assistance.”

No question. This will happen.

Ben nodded. Too eager, too quick. “Of course, Ma’am. How can we help?”

He motioned toward his agents, who silently stared. None of them had expected to see the Vice President of the United States strolling through their grimy armory, casually inspecting ordnance with her security detail.

Yvonne picked up a rifle from a nearby rack. The weight of it felt right in her hands. Familiar.

She inspected the weapon—something she had done numerous times, then ran a finger along the barrel, testing the balance.

“We need weapons and body armor. I assume these are in working order?” She asked, giving Ben a sharp glance.

Ben swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ben Vipond, the supposed king of intelligence, was reduced to a nervous puppy, following Yvonne around the room, trying to anticipate her next move.

Kamps had to admit—it was fun to watch.

“Excellent. Agent Hubbard, load up what we need.”

The agents began packing gear in large duffels for transport.

Ben’s tone changed from lapdog to guard dog pretty quickly. “Is there something we should be aware of, Madam Vice President?”

Kamps leaned against a table, arms crossed, with a slight smirk on his lips.

Benny Boy found his balls again.

Yvonne turned to Ben, expression smooth, unreadable. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“But Madam Vice President, any aggressive actions on foreign soil should include the CIA in the planning. That falls under our purview.”

Yvonne listened, silently grinning, and then extended her hand.

Ben blinked, then hesitated for a half-second before clasping it.

“Appreciate your help with this, Director Vipond.”

Yvonne spun on her heel and left, never looking back.

Ben, however, watched her leave.

They all did.

Six-Forty a.m. Highway From Tehran Airport. Iran.

The sound of the tires on the highway was putting me to sleep, so the ringing of my sat phone made me jump.

“Donovan.”

It was Yvonne. “Hi, Tommy. We have everything on your shopping list and are cruising around Elahieh. Where are we meeting?”

“We’re almost there. There’s a coffee shop called Café Terrace. Less than five minutes.”

“Copy that,” Vonnie replied.

Six-Forty-five a.m. Café Terrace, Elahieh District

Yvonne’s SUVs were parked at the back of the parking lot, backed against a fence. Best to face away from prying eyes.

We did the same.

The sun was coming up, and people were on their way to work.

We got out of our rental SUV, and Vonnie tossed us several bags of food while Kamps held our coffees. “As promised,” she said, grinning.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing a sandwich and handing the bag to Ari. “We good to go?”

“We are,” she said, giving her agents a nod. Duffels were loaded into our SUV. “How are we going to do this?”

She had a fuckin’ wild look in her eyes I didn’t like.

“By ‘we,’ you mean me, Lukas and Ari, right?”

She put her hands on her hips and squared off. “No, I mean all of us. Come on, Tommy. You can’t be a chauvinist, too? I’m fuckin’ Army and can handle myself.”

Her Secret Service agents were usually stoic and unexpressive, but each of them tensed when she began talking about joining the raid.

Lukas, Kamps, and even Ari looked at me and waited. Even Agent Hubbard was staring at me behind his Ray Bans.

“You know that ain’t me, Vonnie, but you can’t fuckin’ come.”

She looked pissed. “As Vice President, I can⁠—”

I laughed in her face, which made her furious. “Fuck me, now you sound like Lee. Listen, Vonnie. Havin’ you along is a fuckin’ horrible idea for so many reasons. But the biggest one is you’ll jeopardize the mission.”

“Bullshit. I’m as good as anyone with a gun.”

“Sure you are, but it ain’t just that, and you know it.”

“Is this about me being Vice President?”

“Kinda, but between me and you, I couldn’t give a shit about that. If you’re good, you’re good, in my book. This is because you’re a woman, and our allies who will be providing the bulk of our firepower are gonna have a problem with that, and we can’t do this without them.”

“He makes a valid point,” said Kamps. “Not to mention, Lukas and Tommy are trained to handle these situations, but you, Yvonne, are not. Your reactions will be slow, and just by being with them, you may jeopardize the entire effort. They will have a split focus—find Quasim and protect their VP. That would halve their odds of capturing Tarak Quasim.”

“Correct,” I said. “Please don’t come, Yvonne.”

She smiled somewhat sadly. “The woman thing. I get it. Okay, I won’t go to get Quasim. I’ll leave this part to the boys. But that doesn’t mean I’m missing out on all of it.”

I let out the breath I was holding. “Good decision, boss.”

Ari touched my shoulder. “Tommy. We must go. The longer we wait, the harder it will be, and my men are in position.”

The Secret Service had completed the transfer of our gear.

I gave Vonnie a hug. “Wish us luck.”

“Knock ‘em dead,” she said with a chuckle.

She turned to give Lukas a hug, but he was already behind the wheel. Ari was in the back with Alfie, feeding him an egg sandwich.

“See you at the field office,” she said.

Six-fifty-five a.m. Elahiyeh District. Tehran.

The drive to Quasim’s compound was dead silent, except for the occasional rasp of a gun being checked.

Ari’s voice finally broke through the tension.

“We called in reinforcements. Doubled our numbers,” he said from the back seat. “Quasim has at least twelve guards per shift. Twice what we expected.”

He knew we were coming.

Maybe not exactly when, maybe not exactly who—but they suspected. That made things messy.

Daytime raids were never ideal. Too many variables. Too many eyes. But Yvonne wanted this wrapped up today. Now that Jesse was safe, she wanted immediate retaliation. No waiting. No diplomacy. No warning.

Lee would’ve sat on it and played the political game.

Yvonne wasn’t Lee.

She wanted consequences.

Seven a.m. Local Time - Elahiyeh District. Tehran.

We parked two streets away.

Weapons loaded. Kevlar snug. Blades secured.

We moved in from the back, cutting through neighboring properties to get into position. Lukas and I moved like shadows, boots whispering over the pavement.

Ari said his men were already in place, waiting for his signal.

I didn’t see a fuckin’ soul.

He watched me, and I gave him the nod.

“Go.”

Gunfire erupted like a thunderclap.

Quasim’s guards barely had time to react.

Ari’s men poured from their hiding spots, moving with speed and precision.

The guards were mowed down where they stood.

Throats slit. Bullets ripping through flesh.

One by one, they dropped onto the manicured gardens, staining the marble pathways with blood.

The smell of gunpowder and blood thickened in the air as bodies crumpled into the dirt.

Quasim’s neighbors, hanging their laundry, fled in fear of the ferocity.

Ari’s men weren’t raiding Quasim’s compound.

They were exterminating.

I shoved down the flicker of unease and stayed on mission.

Lukas and I slipped inside while the massacre continued outside.

We were hunting Tarak Quasim.

Seven a.m. Mansion of Tarak Quasim.

We breached the front door, sweeping each room methodically.

The place was decadent—gold-trimmed mirrors, plush furniture, arrogant in its wealth.

It didn’t fit a man who hid behind hired guns.

Nobody else in the house. No wife. No kids. No servants. We expected him to have people waiting on him, but he only had his guards outside.

Each room—empty. Empty. Empty.

Then movement.

I caught it a split second before gunfire ripped down from the stairs above.

Two guards.

Lukas and I dropped low, rolling into cover behind the polished wooden banister as bullets shredded the air.

With no hesitation, I leaned out. Two precise shots.

One collapsed over the railing, landing with a sickening crack.

The second stumbled back, blood soaking his chest.

A final shot to the skull ended him.

Lukas barely paused to glance at the bodies.

He had bigger prey to catch.

We found Quasim in his office, shouting into his phone.

His desk chair was overturned, and papers scattered across the floor. His face was pale, slick with sweat. His eyes were huge dark orbs, darting everywhere.

He knew we were close.

His mouth moved fast, spitting frantic Farsi into the receiver, waving his hand frantically. The moment he saw us, his face twisted in sheer panic.

He dropped his phone and ran, lunging for the window.

Stupid move.

Lukas was on him in two strides, grabbed his collar and ripped him backward like a rag doll.

The terrorist flailed, clawing, gasping. Then he dropped to his knees, hands raised.

Begging.

“I—I didn’t order it,” he sputtered in broken English, voice thick with fear. “I swear to Allah, I—I never wanted this! Please! I have money, I⁠—”

His trembling hand drifted toward his jacket.

Fuck.

Weapon? Panic button? Didn’t matter.

Lukas didn’t let him finish.

His fist caved Quasim’s face in before he touched whatever was inside his coat.

Two crunches, then dead weight.

Quasim collapsed, unconscious.

Lukas breathed hard through his nose, staring down at him, fists still clenched.

I nudged the bastard with my boot. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be.”

I peered out the door, hearing nothing.

The gunfire had stopped. The courtyard was eerily silent.

Our SUV skidded around the corner, tires screaming as Ari’s men secured the perimeter.

“Move.” Ari barked, waving us forward.

I took point, my weapon raised, but there was no resistance.

Ari’s men had eliminated everyone.

Lukas tossed Quasim into the backseat.

I jumped in after him, gun pressed to his temple.

He woke up just in time to start begging.

“Please. Please.” Quasim babbled in panicked English, eyes wild. “I’m sorry.”

I pressed the barrel of my gun against his cheek. “Oh? You’re sorry?”

He nodded frantically.

His hand twitched again, reaching inside his jacket.

Nice try.

Bang.

The bullet shredded his shoulder, pinning him to the seat.

He screamed.

“Try that again, and I aim lower, asshole.”

Lukas smirked from the driver’s seat. “I think he gets the point.”

Quasim whimpered, clutching his wound.

I searched him and found a steak knife, of all things, tucked inside an inner pocket.

We sped through the Tehran streets, avoiding checkpoints.

Destination?

The CIA Field Office.

Time for Quasim to talk.

Seven-twenty-five a.m. CIA Field Office, Tehran.

Ben Vipond was getting ready to head back to his hotel when Yvonne walked in with Kamps and her Secret Service detail.

Ben paused mid-step, blinking.

“Madam Vice President,” he greeted, attempting to remain calm. “I didn’t expect to see you again today. Do you need more of my weapons?”

He couldn’t keep the snarkiness out of his voice.

She didn’t waste time. “No. I’m waiting for Tommy and Lukas.”

Ben frowned. “Why?”

“They’re bringing a guest here.”

His frown deepened. “Should I not have been consulted?”

Then—the side door slammed open.

CIA agents rushed forward to block the door, guns raised.

“Get outta the fuckin’ way,” Lukas bellowed.

“Let them through,” shouted Yvonne, and the agents reluctantly parted.

Lukas and me walked in, dragging Tarak Quasim between us, whimpering and bloody.

Alfie and Ari followed.

Ben’s face drained of color as he spun on Yvonne. “What the fuck is this?”

Yvonne didn’t blink. “A little quid pro quo. This is our leverage.”

Ben shook his head violently, waving his arms. “No. No, no, no. You’re not locking him up here. This isn’t a CIA op.

I looked at Yvonne. “Boss?”

She turned to Ben, voice flat. “Director Vipond, we are locking up the head of the IRGC in your warehouse until nightfall.”

Ben began running his fingers aggressively through his hair. “Armstrong will think I ordered this, then he’ll lose his shit. I’m going to lose my fucking job again.”

Yvonne’s expression didn’t change. “If that’s your primary motivation, then go home, Ben.”

Silence. Ben’s mouth opened, then closed.

Yvonne tilted her head. “Perhaps you never should’ve come here in the first place.”

Lukas dragged Quasim into a cell and slammed the metal door shut.

The room was silent for a beat—just long enough for Yvonne to let Ben’s outburst hang in the air.

Then, she slowly turned back to him.

“Who’s the senior agent?”

A man raised his hand immediately. “Special Agent in Charge, Simon Hathaway, Ma’am.”

Yvonne gave a single nod. “Agent Hathaway, I want three guards on him. But no one—and I mean no one—talks to him.”

Hathaway didn’t hesitate. One glance at Vipond’s furious face, and he quietly assigned guards.

Ben ran a shaking hand down his face, then—in front of everyone—he lost his temper.

“I don’t want him here.”

Silence.

Yvonne turned to him, calm but imposing.

“Too bad, Ben. He is here. And I need to question him.”

Ben’s hands clenched into fists. “If anyone interrogates a prisoner in my facility, it will be me or one of my people, Madam Vice President.”

They squared off, neither blinking.

Then—a shout.

“We’ve got a problem here.”

Everyone turned toward the holding cell.

Tarak Quasim convulsed violently, his body jerking against the cement floor, white foam bubbling from his mouth.

“Get him out,” Yvonne’s voice sliced through the chaos. “Now. Get the med kit. He’s poisoned himself, the fucking coward.”

The agents moved fast.

The cell door screeched open, and agents dragged Quasim’s twitching form onto the cement.

One man skidded across the floor with a med kit, snapping it open—but it was too late.

The body went still. The final breath escaped in a wet gurgle. His eyes froze open.

Dead.

The room stilled.

Ben staggered back, eyes wide. Then, his face twisted with rage.

“Now what?” His voice cracked. “Your prisoner is dead, Madam Vice President. All that trouble—for nothing.”

Yvonne didn’t answer.

She just stared at him.

Ben’s breath hitched. His anger withered.

He was unraveling.

Finally, he swallowed. “Apologies, Madam Vice President,” he muttered. “I was out of line.”

Yvonne didn’t break eye contact. “Yes, you were.”

Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the SUVs.

“Load the corpse into Tommy’s vehicle,” she ordered, not looking back.

“We’re moving to the next stage.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Friday, January 17th.

Seven-thirty-five a.m. CIA Field Office. Tehran.

I pulled up the roll-up door so Lukas could back the SUV all the way in.

Two agents grimaced as they dragged Tarak’s lifeless body across the floor, their faces twisted in disgust. The corpse thudded into the back of the vehicle like a sack of rotting meat.

Alfie was making his rounds, sniffing agents, tail wagging. Except for Ben Vipond.

He shooed Alfie away like he was a stray dog.

Ari had kept to himself, ignoring the hostile glances from Vipond’s agents. But he knew. They didn’t like his presence here.

Finally, he turned to Lukas and me. “I must take my leave.” He gripped our hands firmly, his expression genuine. “It was my honor to help, my friends.”

Lukas clapped him on the shoulder. “We owe it all to you.”

Ari waved it off. “Nonsense. Friends help friends. This is what we do.” He started to turn, but Yvonne intercepted him.

“Ari?” she asked, arching a brow.

He dipped his head slightly. “Yes, Madam Vice President?”

Yvonne flashed a rare, genuine grin. “You’ve done the United States a great service today. I’d like my senior advisor, Chet Kamps, to get your information. I think we can… show our appreciation to you and your group of followers.”

For the first time, Ari looked stunned. Then, he beamed like a man who had just been given the keys to the kingdom.

“Thank you, Madam Vice President.”

Chet led Ari toward a table and started logging his information.

That’s when Ben Vipond stormed over.

“Yvonne,” Ben snapped. “You can’t just waltz into one of my field offices and start barking orders. There’s a chain of command here. A system. You need to respect it.”

Yvonne sighed. Loudly.

“Director Vipond,” she said, her voice icy and calm. “I am the Vice President of the United States. My job is to protect this nation. And if that means stepping on a few toes along the way, then so be it.”

She turned without another word.

Ben saw red.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

Bad. Fucking. Move.

Secret Service agents surged forward—but Lukas was faster.

Crack.

Lukas’ fist connected like a wrecking ball with Ben’s face, flattening his nose and exploding blood across his face.

Ben’s head snapped back as he slammed into the SUV, skull bouncing off the metal.

He crumpled to the floor, gasping, hands holding his head.

“Don’t. Ever. Touch. The vice president.” Lukas growled.

Ben groaned in pain, eyes watering. The agents stood frozen, watching.

Lukas glanced at the nearest one. “Get this piece of shit away from my truck.”

Nobody argued.

Ben writhed on the oily floor as we climbed into the SUV.

I gave the agents a friendly wave.

Ben wasn’t in a waving mood.

Ari walked away, still smiling.

Chet strolled out beside us, hands in his pockets.

“Want to put a bullet in his skull? Send a message?” Chet asked casually.

I shrugged. “Truck’s a rental, and blood’s a bitch to get out of the carpet.”

Eight a.m. Presidential Palace. Tehran. Iran.

Lukas drove, Kamps and Yvonne were in the back seat with Alfie, and I rode shotgun. “This is going to be quick,” I said. “We pull up to the gate. I toss out the body and we drive like hell to the airport. That’s it.”

“I didn’t forget,” said Yvonne. “The plan is simple but daring and I admit I’m a little nervous.”

“Nothing for you to be nervous about because you’re not going to do anything but look out the window.”

“I know. I won’t forget.”

Three blocks from the palace, Lukas pulled over.

I hopped out, rigging the back hatch. Now, it floated loose, held by nothing but twine.

One flick of the wrist, and Tarak’s dead weight would roll free.

I jumped into the hatch with dead Tarek.

“Ready to launch.”

Lukas floored it. The SUV roared forward.

We casually glided past the palace gates.

Almost there…

“Now. Dump him now!” Lukas hollered.

I yanked the twine—the hydraulic rams hissed as the hatch swung open.

Bombs away.

Tarak’s lifeless corpse tumbled onto the pavement.

Splat.

Twenty feet from the palace. Right on target.

The second his body hit the asphalt, the screaming started.

Then—

Gunfire.

Lukas went hard on the gas as I leaned out reaching for the hatch to pull it closed.

I missed it on my first try.

It bounced up and damned near flew right off and just like fuckin’ clockwork, adrenaline monkey climbed over the back seat into the hatch to help me.

Bullets tore through the air.

Glass shattered. Metal screeched.

I fired back, one-handed, while yanking the twine with the other.

Gotta close the fuckin’ hatch.

Twang.

That was a weird noise.

Then—

Yvonne gasped.

“Fuck. Vonnie’s hit!”

Lukas’ knuckles went white on the wheel. “Close the fuckin’ hatch!”

Chet scrambled into the back seat, hands already reaching for her.

“Jesus Christ, Yvonne, you’re bleeding bad.”

“Press on the wound,” I barked.

“I got nothing to use!”

I ripped off my T-shirt and threw it to Kamps.

The hatch still wouldn’t close.

“The hydraulics are shot!” I yelled. “It won’t close!”

Another bullet shredded the front windshield.

“Lukas, we got another Guard vehicle.”

Lukas jerked the wheel hard. The SUV swung left, tires skidding.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Lukas snapped. “You’re always goin’ on about what a crack shot you are. Now’s the fuckin’ time, bro. Let’s see what you got.”

Deep breath.

Focus.

The Guard truck was steady. No swerving.

Allow for travel…

Bang.

Front tire exploded.

“How far?” Chet demanded.

“Ten minutes.”

“Make it less,” Chet snapped. “She’s losing too much blood.”

From the back seat, Yvonne slurred. “I’m fine.”

I glanced at her. Blood soaked her blouse, seeping through the makeshift bandage.

“Vonnie, stay awake. If you go quiet, I’m slapping you.”

She tried to laugh, but it came out weak.

Another Guard truck appeared behind us.

Shit.

Lukas yanked the wheel hard again. The SUV swung into an alley, dodging through side streets, tires screeching.

Lost them.

For now.

Eight-oh-seven a.m. Tehran Airport. Iran.

Lukas never let up on the gas.

The SUV screeched to a stop at the base of Air Force One’s steps, tires smoking.

The Secret Service was right behind us.

Before the engine even died, I threw the hatch open and ran to the back door.

Lukas was beside me and had the door open, Yvonne in his arms, before I even registered it. He ran—full sprint—up the steps, boots pounding metal.

Kamps was right behind him, covered in Yvonne’s blood.

From the tarmac, a distant siren cut through the morning noise.

Guards were coming. Fast.

I turned to the crew. “Move.”

They didn’t need me to say it twice. They were already in motion, hauling gear, loading bags, and locking compartments.

No time for leashes. I grabbed Alfie’s collar and ran. The second my boots cleared the top step, the cabin door sealed shut.

“Take off, Captain. We’ve got company coming,” I hollered as I slammed into a seat.

Engines roared. The plane jerked forward.

Through the tiny window, I saw floodlights flashing—palace guards bursting onto the runway, too late.

We were already rolling.

The plane accelerated fast, the force pushing me back in my seat.

The last thing I saw on the ground was a black convoy slamming to a stop at the gate—just seconds too slow.

We lifted off.

For the first time in hours, I exhaled.

The second we were airborne, a flight attendant was already at Yvonne’s side.

Julie.

The crew was trained for emergencies. But this? This was different.

Lukas had Yvonne stretched across a couch, his hands still slick with her blood.

Julie worked fast. Too fast. I didn’t like that.

“Bullet’s still in,” she muttered. “I can’t remove it here, but I’ve stopped the bleeding.”

She worked calmly, efficiently, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her.

Kamps dropped to his knees beside Yvonne. Took her hand.

Her skin was too pale.

I crouched near her, voice low. “You okay, babe?”

Yvonne tried to smile.

It was weak. Half there.

“Adrenaline junkie,” she mumbled. “You called it.”

Her fingers curled slightly in Kamps’ hand.

He didn’t let go.

Private Residence. White House. D.C.

Lee sat at the head of the dining room table and constantly checked his phone for messages.

Ted sipped his coffee and watched his younger brother. “Who are you waiting for, Lee? You’ve checked your cell ten times since we sat down for breakfast.”

“I expected Yvonne to call by now. I’m hoping she didn’t get into any trouble. Some of her plans sounded downright dangerous.”

Ted picked up the remote and powered on the flat screen on the dining room wall. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Any breaking news from Iran, I guess. I wish I knew for certain she’d already left there.”

“Call the pilot of Air Force One,” said Ted. “Ask him where he is and what time he’ll land at Andrews.”

“You should be president and not me, Ted. I don’t know the number for the plane or the pilot.”

“This is where you call one of your dozens of helpers and tell them to get it done. Or call Carter and tell him to do it.”

Lee called Levalley. “Carter, I need you to contact the pilot of Air Force One and find out the current status of the plane.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do it right away and get back to you.”

It took a few minutes, but Carter called back, and Lee got his answer. “Air Force One should land at Andrews between eleven and eleven-thirty tonight. Air Force Two with the Secretary on board should land two hours earlier.”

“Around nine p.m. Thank you, Carter. I want to meet that flight and make sure the Secretary gets immediate medical attention.”

“Yes, sir. Will you be addressing the press and informing the nation of the Secretary’s safe return?”

“I guess I should. Would you talk to Miss Adamson and have her draft a speech for me? Tell her and Raney that I’ll talk to the press at three p.m.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll arrange all of that for you.”

“Thanks so much, Carter. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

Lee set his phone down and let out a breath. “Both planes are inbound, Ted. That means all of our people are out of Iran.”

Ted smiled. “Now you can eat breakfast and read your paper. You need to delegate more.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

Grand Hotel. Downtown Tehran. Iran.

Hoping to see Yvonne and have a private moment with her, Ben Vipond went downstairs to the hotel dining room for breakfast. He’d texted her twice since getting out of bed and got no answer. Tired of waiting, he called her private number, and the call went to message.

With his security guys hovering at the next table, Ben ate alone, and he didn’t have much of an appetite. Things hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped they would in Iran. When he’d had enough of the mediocre omelet, he tried Donovan’s number, and the result was the same. No answer.

Where the hell is everybody? I’m the head of the CIA and I can’t find anybody. What’s wrong with this picture?

Back in his room, Ben called Simon Hathaway, the agent in charge of the Tehran field office. “Simon, this is Ben.”

“Yes, sir. What can I help you with?”

“I need the latest information you have on the VP.”

“Yes, sir. I have it right here. Vice President Harrison has left Iran. Air Force One departed last night with the VP aboard and will land tonight at Andrews at eleven-thirty p.m. D.C. time.”

“They left me here,” Ben hollered into the phone. “I’ll get them for this.” Ending the call to Hathaway, he scrolled through his contacts and came up with Donovan’s sat phone number. “This number won’t be on flight mode.”

On the second ring, Tommy Donovan answered.

“You asshole,” Ben shouted. “You left me here with no way home.”

“You’re the asshole, Vipond. You had no business being in Iran in the first fuckin’ place.”

“I wanted to be here for the vice president.” As soon as he said it, Ben knew it sounded lame and whiny.

“I know damned well why you came to Iran, Vipond. You were following your dick. Same reason you have to get your thumb out of your ass and get back to D.C.”

Ben snarked back. “What reason would that be, Marshal?”

“Yvonne got herself shot, dickwad.”

“What? You fucking liar. Don’t tell me that, you smart-ass prick.”

“Fuck off, Vipond. She caught a stray one in the arm. Lost a lot of blood.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“She’s asleep. Medicated. The bullet ain’t out and won’t be until we get to Andrews tonight.”

“Shit.”

The line went dead, and Ben called Hathaway back. “I need to be on the next flight to Washington.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll book the flight and call you with the details.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Ben thought he might puke.

Joint Base Andrews. Maryland.

Lee sat in the limo with Dan Black and they watched Air Force Two touch down together. The Secretary of State was taken off the plane on a stretcher and placed in the back of a waiting ambulance.

Lee and Dan and members of the Secretary’s security team followed the ambulance to the base medical facility.

With no press allowed on the base, the president had freedom to walk around and do as he wished. He walked alongside the gurney and stayed with Jesse Quantrall while he was checked out by a team of doctors.

Jesse’s raw wrists and ankles were treated and bandaged, then his heart was thoroughly examined before he was allowed to leave.

“I’m fine, Lee. A few bruises, but I’ve had worse falling off my horse.” Jesse laughed.

“Honestly,” said Lee, “I’m glad you can laugh after what you went through. Those savages have to be taught a lesson.”

“We’ll talk about that.”

In the limo on the way to Georgetown, Jesse debriefed, and Dan Black recorded it all for the president.

“Not a lot to tell, Lee. For the most part, there was a bag over my head, and I couldn’t see the men who had me. I never saw where I was. I could tell when they were moving me, of course, but that was about it. Can’t give you names or locations or any of that.”

“They fed you and gave you water?” asked Lee.

“Twice a day a man came with food and water, and he let me use the bathroom. I had a cot to lie on and nothing else.”

“So sorry for what you went through in the service of your country, Jesse. It was above and beyond.”

“The cardiologist at Andrews suggested a week of rest and I’m taking him up on it.”

“Absolutely,” said Lee. “You more than deserve it. Go home for a week and if you need more time, just call and tell me.”

“Thanks.”

Farrington Residence. Georgetown. D.C.

Jesse gave a wave as the limo drove down the street, Stars and Stripes flapping in the breeze. He unlocked the front door of Annie’s townhouse and stepped inside. No luggage. No briefcase.

He’d lost it all.

Must be somewhere in Buenos Aires.

The townhouse was silent, and he wasn’t planning on calling Lynette in for one day. He’d book his flight for Texas for the following morning and rest until then.

I am feeling a little ragged.

He helped himself to a beer from the fridge in the kitchen, relaxed on the sofa and called Paul.

“Jesse, is that really you? You know how to scare the shit out of a cowboy.”

Jesse laughed. “I just got back to D.C. and I’m taking today to rest from the long flight. Tomorrow I’m coming home for a week. I was checked out at the hospital when I got back and prescribed a week of rest—doctor’s orders.”

“Fantastic. I’m not a doctor, but I would’ve said the same thing. Let me know what time you’re getting to Austin, and I’ll pick you up.”

“Thanks, Paulie. Can’t wait to see my family. Tell the kids I’m coming home.”

“Sure will.”

Oval Office. West Wing. D.C.

Carter Levalley’s voice rose an octave and Lee winced as his Chief of Staff went off in soprano on the breaking news report.

“This is coming directly from Iran, sir. The leader of the IRGC was murdered and his body thrown at the palace gate. The president of Iran is blaming the violence on us and calling us terrorists.”

“I’m listening, Carter, or at least I’m trying to. I’m sure it’s another one of their lies. We had nothing to do with that and I’m going to verify it right now.”

That news story reeks of Tommy.

Lee muted the TV and waved Carter out of the Oval Office. As soon as he was alone, Lee called Tommy’s sat phone in a fit of rage. He couldn’t contain his anger.

“Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“What’s up? You tell me. There are disturbing news stories coming out of Iran and I want you to assure me you were not part of them.”

“You’re talking to the wrong person, boss. The vice president is the one you need to talk to.”

“Then put her on the phone.”

“Sorry. Can’t. She’s sleeping.”

“Then wake her up, Tommy.”

“Again—can’t.”

“Why the fuck not, Tommy?”

“Because she was wounded, boss.”

Lee was livid. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you start with that, Tommy?”

Now Tommy’s anger was nearly choking him. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you start by asking if everyone’s okay, Lee? Does common courtesy go out the window once you sit your ass down behind that fuckin’ desk? Jesus H. Christ, we’re doing your work.”

Quietly, Lee absorbed everything Tommy said, “You’re absolutely right, Tommy. I apologize. Now, can you tell me about whatever you did after rescuing Jesse?”

Tommy was havin’ none of this political bullshit, especially after what they just pulled off. “Not my place to tell you that, sir. That’s classified information. I’ll let the vice president tell you herself as soon as she can.”

“Look, Tommy. I’m sorry she’s wounded, but goddammit, son. This looks bad.”

“Then talk to the press and make it look better. That’s your job. We did ours.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that goin’ around. Fuckin’ people over and expecting a simple ‘sorry’ to fix things. Actions speak louder than words.”

“Tell me how to fix this.”

“We land around 11:30 tonight. Vonnie needs a bullet removed from her arm. Shoulda been done hours ago. Get a surgeon set up and ready to help her.”

Tommy hung up, and Lee sat at his desk, wondering how he kept fucking things up, again and again.

Press Room. West Wing. D.C.

The reporters jumped to their feet out of respect when the president made his appearance in the press room. Flashing his winning smile, Lee motioned for them to be seated. His smile was one of the attributes that got him elected.

“Wonderful news today, ladies and gentlemen, and I’m overjoyed to share it with you. The Secretary of State, Jesse Quantrall, is enroute to D.C. and will be heading home to Texas tomorrow morning for a week of rest.”

“Can you confirm that the IRGC was responsible for the Secretary’s kidnapping, Mister President?” shouted one reporter from the back of the room.

“From every report I’ve heard,” said Lee, “the IRGC was directly involved in the kidnapping of the Secretary. Taking him from the embassy limo in Buenos Aires and transporting him to Tehran and holding him prisoner.”

“The President of Iran claims we’re responsible for the death of Tarek Quasim,” said one of the female journalists. Lee recognized her from the press corps and tried to think of her name.

“Can you confirm that, sir? Did we kill the leader of the IRGC for kidnapping the secretary? Did we toss his body at the palace gate? Does that make us any better than the Iranians? They are calling us terrorists.”

Lee took a breath while he framed his answer. “Even though the kidnapping of our esteemed Secretary of State by the IRGC on behalf of the Ayatollah was a heinous act of terrorism, I did not order any type of violent retribution. Does that answer your question?”

Hands shot up with more questions and Raney waved them off.

“Violence begets more violence, and my administration is now, and has been since day one, dedicated to the peaceful settlement of worldwide disputes. We are not a warring nation.” Lee pounded his fist on the podium and a few of the reporters jumped.

“Secretary Quantrall drafted a cease-fire treaty and was ready to sit down with President Ahmadi and hammer out the details, and this is how Iran treats an ambassador of peace? They kidnap him in Buenos Aires, fly him thousands of miles bound and gagged, and hold him prisoner in Tehran? Please explain to me the proper way to respond to that.”

The president shook his head in disgust and then continued. “And these are the same people accusing us of an act of violence?” Lee leaned into the microphone to say one last thing. “Believe what you will, but we are not the guilty nation in all of this, no matter what the President of Iran is claiming. Keep in mind he is the one giving lip service to the thoughts and wishes of the Ayatollah—the true power behind the IRGC.” Lee stepped back from the microphone. “My press secretary will take questions. Mister Raney?”

“Thank you, sir.”

Lee stepped into the corridor and Carter Levalley shook his hand. “Wonderful speech, sir. Just what we needed at a time like this.”

“Thanks, Carter. I didn’t want to get into the Iranian thing but there was no getting away from it.”

“No, sir. Everyone has seen the news, and they want answers.”

“And sometimes they don’t like the answers they wanted so badly.”

“No, sir. They don’t.”

Joint Base Andrews. Maryland.

Shortly after eleven o’clock in the evening, D.C. time, Air Force One landed at Andrews Air Force base in Maryland. An ambulance with the engine running waited at the bottom of the steps.

The presidential limo waited next to the ambulance.

The vice president’s security waited in an unmarked black SUV with tinted windows. Inside the vehicle were four passengers.

The plane taxied to a stop, the steps were lowered, and the ambulance crew ran up carrying a stretcher. They emerged moments later carrying the vice president and gently placed her into the back of the ambulance.

Her senior advisor, Chet Kamps climbed into the ambulance after her and the one of the attendants slammed the back doors.

The ambulance wasted no time zooming to the base hospital.

Surgeons were standing by scrubbed and ready, and the vice president was their first priority. She was taken into operation room one and Kamps walked with me and Lukas to the closest waiting area.

“You guys go to the residence,” said Kamps. “I’ll stay here until she’s out of surgery. There’s no point all of us sitting here drinking bad coffee.”

“Okay, we’ll see you in a while,” said Lukas.

“Call if you need us.”

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay, Kamps,” I said.

“I will be. I’ve got this.”

“Copy that.”

One Observatory Circle. D.C.

Me and Lukas left Kamps at the hospital with Yvonne and we headed back to the VP’s residence to make arrangements for our trip home. Both of us were beat from the long flight. Way too many hours in the air for my broken head and I had to sleep or puke. Maybe both.

“What do you think about Kamps?” asked Lukas.

“How do you mean?”

“He ain’t saying nothing about Yvonne, but he’s got a weird look on his face.”

“He says he’s handling it. Roy will be a different story.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be the one to tell him,” said Lukas. “You can do it.”

“Thanks for that, you chickenshit.”

We walked into the foyer and dropped our bags, and Roy came running to give us hugs. “Where are Yvonne and Chet? Did they have to stay longer than you guys?”

“Some bad news, Roy. Yvonne got hurt and we dropped her and Chet at the hospital before we came here.”

Roy got all glassy-eyed and reached for a tissue from the box on the hall table. “How bad is she hurt?”

“Not too bad,” said Lukas. “Shot in the arm. It could’ve been a helluva lot worse, Roy.”

“Shot? Yvonne got shot?”

“She caught a stray bullet, Roy,” I said. “Nobody shot at her intentionally.”

“Can I see her?”

“Probably not until tomorrow. She’ll be sedated when she comes out of surgery.”

“Is Chet upset?”

“He’s not saying much but he looks upset. He’s waiting until she comes out of surgery and then he’s coming home. He won’t be able to see Yvonne. Nobody will. The hospital will keep her isolated.”

“How many things could go wrong with the surgery?” whimpered Roy. “I want to be ready.”

“Nothing will go wrong, Roy. Removing a bullet is not a big deal. Happens all the fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe for you, Tommy, but Yvonne has never been shot before.”

“You sure about that, Roy? Yvone is Army and I’m pretty sure she told me she’d seen combat duty before she went to the NSA.”

“She never mentioned it.”

“Getting shot is not something people talk about,” said Lukas. “Yvonne is tougher than she looks, Roy. She’s going to be fine.”

“I wish I could believe that, Lukas.”

Tehran Airport. Iran.

Ben waited hours for his flight and when he did get to board, the flight was delayed for forty minutes. Once they finally took off and were in the air, he pulled out his briefcase and tried to work but his concentration just wasn’t there.

All he could think about was the woman he loved lying on an operating table covered in blood. He couldn’t get the unsettling image out of his head.

This is Donovan’s fault, and I’ll get him for it. Yvonne was with him when this happened. What kind of a shit bodyguard is he anyway?

The flight attendant came by and asked if he wanted a drink.

“Bourbon. Make it a double.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Saturday, January 18th.

One Observatory Circle. D.C.

First thing I did when I got out of bed was search for coffee. When Linc was a baby and I lived in this house as Lee’s bodyguard, I had a coffee maker in my own little apartment on the second floor.

Yvonne was vice president now and things were different.

When I shuffled into the dining room, my eyes blurry and my head a fuckin’ disaster from the long flight, Roy and Kamps were both sitting at the table drinking coffee.

Kamps had two phones, and he was checking messages on both of them.

Roy was in tears over Yvonne and his sniffling was pissing Kamps off. “Stop it, Roy. I’m trying to work. Do you know how many fuckin’ messages the vice president gets in twenty-four fuckin’ hours?”

“No, I don’t, Chet. Is it a lot?”

“Hundreds. Now stop fussing and let me answer them. We’ll go to the hospital as soon as we’re allowed to see Yvonne.”

I sat down at the table with a coffee and a bottle of Advil, and my cell rang.

“Donovan.”

Before I could say a word, Lee was all over me. His tone forceful, bordering on disrespectful. “Tommy, I need to see you immediately.”

“No can do, boss.”

“Explain why not.”

“Lukas and I are stopping by the hospital to see Yvonne, then we’re going straight to Dulles to catch our flight.”

“Catch a later flight. You need to debrief and I’m not taking no for an answer, Tommy.”

“I’m not saying that I won’t debrief. I’m saying I’ll do it as soon as Yvonne is able to sit up and listen.”

“What you’re saying is you and Lukas were working directly under the vice president’s orders in Iran?”

“Yes, sir.”

A long pause. “I see.”

Andrews Medical Center. Joint Base Andrews.

Lukas checked his watch as Yvonne’s driver took us all to the hospital. Kamps and Roy would stay for a while, but Lukas and I would see her for a minute if we were allowed to and then carry on to the airport.

Roy was a sobbing, tearful mess and Kamps wasn’t happy with him. We stopped at the nurses’ station and found out only one person at a time was allowed in.

“You go first, Tommy. You guys have to leave. Roy and I can wait.”

“Thanks.”

The head nurse took me into Vonnie’s private room. She was sitting up, munching on something and, overall, looking pretty good. Her left arm was in a sling with a large bandage on her left shoulder by her collarbone.

Big smile. “Hi, Tommy. Thanks for getting me home.”

“Hey, no problem. My specialty is getting home. Sometimes takes longer than others.”

“Is Chet here?”

“He’s in the waiting room with Roy and Lukas. Me and Lukas are on our way to the airport, and we wanted to check up on you before we went back to Texas.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a little groggy, but the doctor said I would be. I’m hoping to get out of here tomorrow.”

“You’ve got lots of support at home and you’ve got Roy.”

Yvonne laughed. “I have Roy at home, so what more do I need?”

“Call me when you need me, babe. I think we’re more on the same page than me and the big boss. We’re not seeing eye to eye on much lately.”

“Is he blaming you for Iran?”

“Trying to.”

“I’ll talk to him. He put me in this position and now he has to deal with it. I’m not some yes-person who will go along with his wait-and-see attitude.”

“Copy that, boss.” I leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t let anybody fuck you over.”

“Copy that.” She smiled.

I wandered out of Yvonne’s room and was strolling along the corridor in the direction of the waiting area when a bunch of Secret Service guys stepped off the elevator and began clearing the intensive care floor.

Big trouble coming.

The elevator doors opened again, and Ted and Lee marched directly to the nurses’ station, Ted carrying a huge bunch of flowers in a glass container.

“I’m here to see Vice President Harrison,” snapped Lee in his best presidential tone.

“Of course, sir. Let me show you where she is.” Lee and Ted followed the nurse, and I sneaked by, using the gaggle of Secret Service for cover.

Dan Black winked at me, and I grinned as I ducked into the waiting area.

Lukas was on his feet ready to go. “How was she?”

“She’s doing great.” I turned to Roy, “She’s talking about coming home tomorrow and you’re up. She said, I have Roy at home and he’s all I need.”

“Really? She said that?” The dam burst and Roy grabbed for more tissues. “I’ll be ready.”

“I know you’ll take good care of her, Roy.” I gave Kamps a wave and Lukas and I left before Lee had a chance to come out of Yvonne’s room.

Lukas pressed the down button, and the doors were opening when Lee attacked from my right flank.

“Don’t get on that elevator, Tommy.”

“Why not, boss? Give me one good reason.”

“I’m blaming you for Quasim’s death and for Yvonne getting shot.”

“Why do you need somebody to pin it on? You know it was fuckin’ justified. The guy was a murdering terrorist and the penalty for kidnapping the Secretary of State is what? Slap on the wrist? Kick in the ass? That’s what you’d have given him, and Yvonne knows that better than anybody. This ain’t on me.”

Lee made me fuming mad and I got mean. I pointed at Lee’s sagging chest and whispered, “I’ll tell you one thing that Vonnie ain’t gonna tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Quasim died in the CIA field office in Tehran.”

“What?”

“Ask Vipond. He was there.”

“Ben Vipond was in Iran?”

I shrugged and a little trickle of happiness flowed through my veins. I could hardly keep from laughing.

The elevator doors opened for the second time and Lukas grabbed my arm and pulled me on board. “Why did you tell him that?”

“I owe Vipond.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I don’t want to be your enemy.”

“You never will be bro.”

Dulles International Airport. Virginia.

Figured if I sat in first class it might help my head.

Didn’t help much but the six beers Lukas and I drank on the three-hour flight helped a helluva lot more. More room for Alfie in first class anyway. When he wore his US Marine Corps harness, he got to ride with me because he was a soldier—a working dog.

We walked out of the terminal in Austin doing okay. Lukas found my truck and he was the sober one, so he drove.

“Good to be home, Tommy. Better weather here. Ain’t got that chill off the fuckin’ river.”

“Always better weather in Texas. Better everything.”

“Good copy.”

Cherrywood. Austin. Texas.

On the drive to Aunt Gail’s house, Lukas talked a bit about Yvonne and that kind of surprised me. “Glad she’s okay. I never would’ve made it with her, but I still care about her. She’s way better off with Kamps than she would be with me. Just say’n. He can control Yvonne in a way I never could and that’s important now that she has a lot more power.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think she’ll get into trouble in the VP position?”

Lukas shrugged. “She’s ten times more aggressive than Lee. I’d watch out for it.”

“Yeah, I will. I’m sure Kamps is. He knows her better than anybody.”

“I know myself and I ain’t a good partner.”

“I’m not great either. Gone too much and I forget to call and shit like that. I do better alone.”

“You’re better than me,” said Lukas.

He parked my truck in Aunt Gail’s driveway, got his gear out of the back and I followed him inside with Alfie. She hugged us both in the front hall and patted Alfie on his head. We had a coffee and a banana muffin with her.

“I’m always so relieved when my boys get back home safe.”

Lukas grinned. “Makes me happy too when I get home and I ain’t dead.”

“Don’t even talk about you being dead, Lukas. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okeydokey.”

Quanah Kahni Farm. Butler. Texas.

Nothing made me happier than punching the code into my own gate and watching it swing open wide to let me in. I parked my truck next to the porch, grabbed my gear out of the back and ran up the steps.

Alfie beat me to the door and jumped up to get in. He barked and jumped, and I couldn’t get my key into the lock to let us in.

Ellis opened the door with a big smile on her face. “I could tell it was you, Alfie was so happy to be home.” She hugged me and then I scooped up the kids who were right behind her. “Hey, guys. Daddy’s home.”

I spent the next hour sitting at the kitchen table talking to Ellis and drinking coffee. After a second dose of Advil, my headache dropped down a level from killer to semi-killer and I was grateful.

“You seem exhausted, Tommy. I hope you can spend some time at home.”

“I’m hoping for a month off, at least. There’s shit I want to do in the barn to get ready for spring.”

When the kids went down for their afternoon nap, I hid in my office with the door closed and texted Annie.

“I’m home.”

That’s all I said and all I was going to say.

Farrell came for dinner after work, and it seemed to be something he did regularly. Me being home surprised him a little. I wasn’t sure I liked how comfortable he was in my house with my kids, but I should have been grateful he was there for Ellis and the kids when I wasn’t.

I’m being a prick.

“Glad you’re back, Tommy,” said Farrell. “Jesse is back home at his ranch. That was some bullshit he went through. Glad they didn’t kill him. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I think they planned to use him as a bargaining tool, but they didn’t get the chance.”

“Thanks to you and Lukas?”

“Something like that. Yvonne was with us. She insisted on going with us in case we needed more clout to get Jesse back.”

“Huh,” said Farrell. “Got plans?”

“Nope. Working on my barn is my big plan for now. If you want me, I’ll be in the barn.”

Farrell chuckled. “Okay. First place I’ll look.”

Farrell’s all happy and friendly now because I’m fuckin’ miserable. That don’t feel right to me.

After dinner, I played with the kids until it was time for them to go to bed. I put their pajamas on and tucked them in myself and read them a couple of stories.

Every time I came back from a job, they had grown and changed, and they said new words and I had missed all that stuff in between and it nearly broke my fuckin’ heart.

I grabbed a quick shower, dressed in my stage clothes, and told Ellis and Farrell I was going out.

“You’ve got your guitar so you must be going to Boots.”

“You’re psychic, cuz.”

“Have a good night, Tommy,” said Ellis.

Boots & Saddles Roadhouse. Giddings.

I walked through the double doors at the front of the building and Annie was behind the bar facing me. I walked by on the way to the stage and gave Annie a wave.

She smiled but her hands were busy filling pitchers for the servers, and she didn’t wave. It was enough for me just to see her.

Standing on the stage talking to Beau made me miss Tyler and I decided to go see him while I was at home this time.

I loved being home.

Beau showed me the playlist and we talked about where he’d fit me in. A great guy and a fantastic musician. Tyler couldn’t have a better person running his band while he was away.

I sang a few songs in each of the sets. After the third set, I sat at the band table with Beau and the guys and Ricki walked over to say hello to me.

Pretty as ever but she looked pregnant and I couldn’t put my finger on why, but that made me feel sick and lonely.

EPILOGUE

Sunday, January 19th.

Austin Neurological Hospital.

Playing with the band the night before at Boots got me thinking about Tyler Quantrall and how he’d almost come out of the coma once before when I went and played my guitar in his room at the hospital.

I stopped at the nurses’ station and told the nurse in charge that I was gonna make some noise in Tyler’s room to see if I could wake him up and she smiled.

“Almost worked before. Why don’t you try again?”

“Thanks.”

No amps, but I could make enough racket on my own—just me and my guitar.

I played a couple of songs and sang to Tyler who was only a couple feet away from me.

The door to the room opened and Jesse walked in during my third song. I was blasting out George Thoroughgood’s rendition of Who do you Love. Tyler loved George’s guitar work on that one and I remembered him saying so.

I strummed the last chord, and the song ended.

Jesse stood at the end of the bed and gave me a round of applause and I laughed.

Tyler opened his eyes, looked straight at his brother and said, “Jesse, could you get me a Coke?”

Jesse’s hand went to his heart, and he took a step back in total fuckin’ amazement. “I can get you a Coke, Ty. I’m all over it.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Author Notes from Carolina Mac and David K. Mac.

We’re having such a blast writing this series together! Creating a book series as a mother/son duo has become a unique and enriching adventure for both of us and one we’re unwilling to stop any time soon.

True Colors is a political thriller series written in the pulp fiction style with lots of action and humor, hopefully giving our readers many hours of pleasure.

We hope you thoroughly enjoyed Book 12, Quagmire. If you have a moment to leave a quick rating or review on Amazon, we would love to know what you thought about the book and I’m sure other readers would too.

Carolina Mac is the author of over two hundred books in seventeen different series. The Regulators, Quantrall PI, The Blackmore Agency, The Night Vipers, The Creed, The Agency: Young Guns, Paradise Park, Broken Spur, The Moonbeam Chronicles, Taming the Stallion and the Rebel Ranch series.

Also, five Novella series: Heaven’s Gate, Midlife Magic, Suddenly Magic, The Sabbats and the Boots & Saddles Updates—Volumes one through six.

She’s the co-author with her daughter JL Madore/Auburn Tempest of Misty’s Magick and Mayhem series. Translated into German. And the new Dark Irish Mafia Romance series. First three books now available. Also in audio.

She’s the co-author with her son David K. MacDowell/D.K. Mac of the True Colors series.

ALSO BY CAROLINA MAC

Regulator Biker Series (12 Book Series)

Q-File P.I. Series (15 Book Series)

The Blackmore Agency Series (30 Book Series)

Night Viper Series (15 Book Series)

The Creed (16 Book Series)

The Agency: Young Guns (15 Book Series)

Taming the Stallion (12 Book Series)

Rebel Ranch (3 Book Series)

True Colors (13 Book Series)

The Moonbeam Chronicles (26 Book Series)

Paradise Park Series (13 Book Series)

Misty’s Magick & Mayhem Series (11 Book Series)

Mystere LeJeune: The Sabbats (4 Book Series)

Heaven’s Gate Romance Novella Series (3 Book Series)

Broken Spur Series (4 Book Series)

Midlife Magic Series (6 Book Series)