by Lee Taylor
Making an attempt to curb his amusement at her ribald claims, he focused on her reference to her father’s skills. “Hmm, does that mean you are willing to approach your father? My understanding was that he is off-limits in this campaign. Even though, as both Max and Jerry have indicated, he has more dirt on Gus than anyone does.”
Gia rose to her feet. “I don’t give a flying fuck what they think he has. My father will not be involved in this campaign. Anyone, including you, who doesn’t understand that should leave the campaign now.”
Logan reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Rubbing his lips across the tender skin below her ear, he murmured, “Settle down, sweetheart. I know you are upset about my need for secrecy. As I’ve said before, it’s how I roll. I’ve spent the better part of my life dealing with security issues, and not to put too fine a point on it, I’m damn good at it.” Tipping up her chin, he forced her to meet his intense gaze. “Gia, as much as I don’t want to make you angry, it’s important that you understand. We are going to play this game according to my rules.”
When she shoved at him, angrily trying to free herself, he tightened his grip. “Uh-uh, baby. Please know that I respect your skills and your remarkable achievements. I agree. I’m a kindergartener in the political realm compared to your graduate-level status. But where I shine, and you don’t, is that I have successfully confronted the baddest badasses this world has to offer. And while I may seem like a security freak to you, hear me, Gia, and hear me well. You belong to me in the best meaning of the word. I will not let anyone hurt you. As the supreme operator that I am, you need to know that no one is going to get through the armored encasement I’m surrounding you with. And while you think you don’t need my protection, you’re wrong. There are forces out there determined to bring you down any way that they can. Physically as well as politically. On that point, you have my word. And as anyone who has ever worked with me knows, my word is gospel. God help the sorry assholes who don’t believe it and go after you. They will spend the rest of their lives regretting it.”
Long after he’d made ferocious love to her and she’d fallen asleep in his arms, Logan acknowledged that when all his shit came down, if anyone was likely to torpedo her chances to win, it was him.
Chapter 28
Just know, you pitiful piece of horse shit, if you ever again come close to doing what you did today, you will not believe what will happen to you. You probably think that Logan Fowler is your biggest threat. Granted, he’s a former Black Ops professional and will no doubt come after you physically. But, Gus, that would be the least of your worries. While he could and likely will beat the shit out of you for disrespecting his woman, I can bring you down politically. Don’t misunderstand, I know every bribe you’ve taken, every campaign law you’ve broken, and yes, Congressman, I know your deepest, darkest, most disgusting secrets. The ones you think no one knows.”
At Gus’s gasp, Stewart Reed continued, his voice ripe with scorn. “Do you honestly think I would support you financially the way that I have, essentially bought every election for you, if I didn’t have your prick in a vise? As if I’m unaware of your more ‘leisurely’ imbroglios?” Glaring at the disheveled man who was sweating profusely, his face flushed an unhealthy shade of purplish-tinged green, Reed nodded to the swarthy man beside him. He continued ominously. “You know Franklin’s skills, Gus. You’ve seen what he does to people who stand in my way. He’s even taken out some of your most troublesome foes at my command. Usually, threats are sufficient, but trust me, he has talents that would frighten a cadre of Mafia dons. To underscore my point, having Franklin and his compatriots in the wings ensures that no one crosses me and gets away with it. That includes you, my foolish, drunken friend.”
After Franklin and his equally frightening cohort, Daniel, had sequestered the badly hungover politico in an off-site location, Stewart hit the button on his desktop speaker. Within seconds, an accented voice filled the silence. “I do not need to tell you, Mr. Reed, how distressed our international colleagues are at what happened today. You assured us that you had Congressman Underwood under control. I presume you have seen the national and, yes, the international media that confirms your colleague is far from controlled. Indeed, he has seemingly done the impossible. He has put himself and our sponsors in an untenable situation. A position that threatens our well-being and, I should add, your well-being, Mr. Reed.” The voice dripping with malice continued. “Worse yet, your buffoon has done what no one thought he could. That is to put himself and, might I note, you and potentially the rest of us in the sights of none other than Logan Fowler.” Allowing the ominous silence to settle for a long moment, he added, “I’m confident that you know Fowler was an undercover agent for many years and a very impressive one. Even though he is now a businessman, we can’t ignore his former skills and colleagues.”
Shoving at the anger threatening to overtake him, Stewart assumed a conciliatory tone. “Do know that I am well aware of the danger Congressman Underwood poses. To all of us. To allay your concerns, also know that I have a failsafe card to play should the congressman step out of line again.”
“I appreciate that assurance, Mr. Reed. As you know, the stakes are high. To put it succinctly, the lovely Ms. Tremaine cannot, will not, become the first woman elected to Congress from your state. The investment we have made to ensure that doesn’t happen is more than significant.” The voice was silent for a long moment, then added, “Significant enough that we will do anything we need to, no matter what it takes, to ensure her defeat.”
Stewart forced himself to speak calmly. Christ, if anyone knew the stakes, he did. But these foreigners were not to be trifled with. He’d known that before he signed on. But the payoff was worth every cent he’d spent and every threat he’d made. One way or another, he was going to elect the next congressman, and then US senator, from their state, even if he had to dispose of Gus Underwood in the process.
****
Glaring at the bleary-eyed man staring back at him in the mirror, Gus Underwood admitted it was no wonder Stewart Reed had reamed him out. He did look like hell. And that was after he’d consumed more water than he had in the last week. Feeling like he might float away as well as throw up, he’d waited until Franklin had left him to sleep off his hangover, then went to the bar to load up on his personal cure-alls. He’d discovered that a Bloody Mary or three, each with a double shot of vodka, could contain the most vicious hangover. Particularly when he laced the cocktail with a handful of Bakis tablets that a Swedish porn star had introduced him to.
Shaking his head, he admitted that his drinking was more than out of control. He didn’t remember when he’d started having two or three double martinis before a hearty dinner that always included a bottle of wine, followed up by several shots of high-end whiskey. Granted, he ate an enormous amount of food, which he’d assured himself would combat his overloaded alcoholic consumption. But, with a sigh, he now admitted as he loosened his belt yet another notch that he was becoming an overweight drunk. The problem was that alcohol was the only thing that helped him deal with his increasing anxiety. He’d been riding the rail between legal and illegal activities for so long, it was getting harder to know where the dividing line was. Bribes were a necessary component of most politicians’ lives. Granted, they didn’t label them as such, rather, they were the necessary fees they incurred to keep their reputations clean. The problem for Gus was that the wealthier he’d become from generous donors who’d bought his favors, the more his sense of entitlement had grown. He’d even begun to think that he built an inviolable barricade around his benighted life style that no one could rupture.
Until today. Adding an extra shot of vodka to his already strong Bloody Mary, he tried to reassure himself that he’d heard Stewart Reed wrong. There was no way that the imperturbable financier could have discovered Gus’s deepest, darkest secret. While Reed was connected up the wazoo and surrounded himself with men like Franklin and Daniel, who truly could have made “th
e Beast” Salvatore Toto Riina’s inner circle, Gus had convinced himself that Reed, at base, was a wealthy gentleman who only played on the fringes. Fighting the tremor that made it hard to hold his glass steady, Gus forced himself to consider what Reed had said. Was it his imagination that the steely-eyed man had referred to Gus’s “leisurely imbroglios” intentionally? In a threatening way?
Gulping down a large swallow of the tomato-juiced vodka, Gus prayed that he was overreacting. That he was allowing his hungover state to ramp up his paranoia. Practically inhaling his cocktail, then quickly making another, Gus reassured himself. At base, Stewart Reed was a trust-fund sycophant who liked to pretend he was one of the tough guys. That his entitled, inherited wealth made him as strong, as powerful, as that asshole Logan Fowler. Quaffing his third Bloody Mary since Franklin had blessedly left him alone, Gus convinced himself there was no way that Reed could have discovered his secret life. Gus had paid too much in money and hardcore threats to allow that to happen. But even the blessed numbness that was beginning to overtake him couldn’t quiet the uneasiness or dampen the fear he saw in his bloodshot eyes.
****
“You are not going to believe this! Quick, turn on CNN. Their political round table is focusing on our race and they are crucifying Gus.” At Emma’s excited shout, Ben changed the channel on the overhead screens lining one wall of their campaign war room and turned up the volume. As the pontificators were discussing Gus’s ugly assertions, the moderator referred to the latest polls on their race. Shouts of excitement filled the room when the numbers flashing on the screen indicated that just yesterday what had been between a twenty to thirty-point lead in Underwood’s favor on three of the polls was now showing a ten-point lead on two of the polls and a dead heat on the third.
In the midst of their excitement, Ben left the room to take a call. When he returned, his eyes dancing with excitement, he crowed, “You think those numbers are great? Are you ready for this?” Grabbing Gia’s hands, he yanked her to her feet and swung her in a dizzying circle. Glancing at her jeans and tee shirt, he shook his head. Not hiding his excitement, he said, “You know, boss woman, you look good no matter what you are wearing. However, in that a CNN camera crew and political stringer are due to arrive at our headquarters an hour from now to interview you, may I suggest that you . . . ”
The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the excited cheers filling the room as Gia jumped up and raced over to Logan, who caught her in his arms.
“Quick, Logan, what should I wear? Oh my God, this would be the day that I decide to wear jeans to the headquarters.”
Before Logan could answer, Kaila broke in. “No, Gia, remember, Logan had us bring several outfits from your fabulous closet so that you would always be prepared. I think you should wear that emerald-green sweater and one of your pencil skirts.”
Emma chimed in. “I agree. The sweater matches your eyes and is sexy, but it’s also professional.”
Looking to Logan for his reaction, Gia was relieved when he nodded in agreement. “No matter what you wear, princess, it will be perfect. The sweater and skirt hit just the right notes. Emma is correct. Only you could make a sophisticated outfit look sexy as hell.”
Later that evening, the core team gathered in the war room to celebrate their day. Ben picked up the remote and pulled up the interview that had played on CNN throughout the day and had been picked up by other national channels as well as all of the local stations. Pausing the replay for a moment, Ben didn’t try to hide his glowing admiration. “Honestly, Gia, I think with this next exchange, you may very well have won this election.”
Knowing what he was likely to call up on the screen, Gia shook her head. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Ben.” She added with a shy smile, not able to hide her excitement, “If it’s the one when they essentially asked me if Logan is my sugar daddy and I am his whore, I think I did okay.”
At the horrified groans from the campaign staff at her allusion to the question the reporter had come damned close to phrasing as baldly as Gus had, Ben brought the interview replay up on the screen.
“I regret having to ask you this, Ms. Tremaine . . . but your opponent made some challenging aspersions about you and Mr. Fowler . . . ” Gia smiled at the interrogator, who looked anything but regretful as he prepared to hit her with a zinger. Allowing a slight frown to cross her face, Gia shrugged, then interrupted the intent reporter before he could reprise Gus’s ugly accusations. “I understand. As hard as it is to repeat what my opponent said about me and my primary funder in a room full of men and women, do know that I wasn’t surprised. If you look back on Mr. Underwood’s previous campaigns, you will discover that he has a reputation for saying untoward things about his opponents, and frankly about women in general. Indeed, he has criticized me in the past—not always as crassly as he did at the event yesterday, but certainly with language that is demeaning. Not to put too fine a point on it, I think you will quickly confirm that Mr. Underwood’s view of women and what they are good for has been documented many times. While it’s unfortunate, I think it is useful to remember that Mr. Underwood has never run against a woman before. Like a few other men from his generation, he apparently hasn’t learned that locker-room talk should remain in the locker room. Particularly if he’s serious about trying to be worthy of the men and the women in our district. I trust you agree that it is an honor to be elected to the US Congress. I believe it is incumbent on us as candidates and voters to ensure that the people we elect to such a high office are worthy of our respect.”
When the applause and the cheers quieted somewhat, Ben looked from Gia to Logan and then said to the group as a whole, “And that, my friends, is how a consummate politician puts a misogynist asshole like Gus Underwood so far behind the chains he won’t make it to the twenty-yard line, much less to the goal. And she did it without allowing the reporter to regurgitate the ugly things that Gus said about her or Logan.” He blew out an admiring sigh and concluded, “Gold, boss woman, pure gold.”
Chapter 29
The next morning, they were flying high from the fallout of Gus Underwood’s self-inflicted bloodletting. Every news outlet worth their salt knew that they were onto a big story. Reviewing the interview agenda Ben handed her, Gia grinned and winked at her super-smart campaign manager. In all their years of managing candidates, they knew if she’d ever given one of their candidates the schedule that Ben created for her, the would-be candidate would have shrieked in dismay and likely resigned from the campaign. Instead, Gia was eager. Ben had literally booked her with all the major networks as well as CNN and Fox News. And of course, with all of the local stations. He’d also developed a list of the editorial boards of the major papers in the 2nd District, all of which were clamoring for an interview. It was an astonishing schedule, and she was certain that no one but her was likely to pull it off. Rather than being intimidated, Gia was energized.
It was clear that due to the stupidity of her opponent, the first-time candidate who was newsworthy for her looks alone had been catapulted into major star status. Gus’s widely reported remarks weren’t only misogynistic. They also called into question her relationship with her major funder—a relationship that was catnip to the media whores as well as the legitimate press. It was a given. Logan Fowler was a media star in his own right. He had captured the interest of the press the moment he arrived in the state. Now the possibility that the tech superstar and the startlingly beautiful candidate were romantically involved had the legitimate press and the scandal sheets orgasming in excitement. What should have been a no-brainer win for the fifth-time Republican candidate in the first week of the campaign had become too close to call. All because Gus Underwood had essentially accused Gia of selling her body to her megadonor Logan Fowler.
Knowing intuitively how to take advantage of the media prize Gus had thrown their way, Gia and Logan upped the ante. Gia shook her head in pretend dismay, then winked at Ben, who’d slapped yet another scandal rag article
featuring the photograph on her desk. Gia couldn’t help but be gratified by the cheeky photograph. It was appearing in print articles everywhere and had become essential B-roll for even “serious” television political conversations. The photograph captured a candid pic of Gia and Logan that could have competed with an early Meghan Markle and Prince Harry shot. They were leaving a restaurant, a simple enough scene. Gia was wearing a sleeveless, copper-colored, mid-calf length dress with a slit up the side. Her Walter Steiger platform sandals made sure that the revealing slit exposed her shapely calves and ankles. To top off the outfit, she was wearing a snazzy hat that would have made a Glamour photographer weep with envy. In fact, Emma had happened on a women’s fashion design show where the moderators were arguing whether Gia’s felt fedora was a Reinhard Plank or, given its leather strap, a Frye. Her oversized sunglasses completed the image of a modern-day Jackie O. That a tall, smartly dressed Logan Fowler replete with ankle boots and edgy Barton Perreira sunglasses accompanied her was intriguing enough. But what had been caught by the photographer’s lens was Logan’s hand resting casually on Gia’s backside as he guided her from the restaurant. By the end of the day, the iconic shot that was appearing everywhere had even acquired a name in the promotional industry. It was referred to as “his strategically placed hand.” In other accounts, the photograph was simply called “Gia and her guy.” At their headquarters, Ben had posted a two-by-three foot enlargement of the photo on the back wall and saucily labeled it “Logan feeling up Gia’s butt.”
