by Beth Fred
Chapter 20
Mandy
A firm grip comes around my shoulder, shaking my whole body. “Mandy. Amanda, wake up,” a velvet voice whispers.
I open my eyes to find a beautiful, shirtless angel standing over my bed. His chest and arms are contoured with muscles. His physique is so strong. His face is so soft. I blink a few times to make sure I’m not dreaming then lift a hand and touch Eric’s face. Not a dream. He’s real. I allow my hand to cup around his chin. He exhales, and I’m washed in minty breath. I close my eyes for a minute. I’m tempted to lean up. Lean in. Let our mouths touch. But it isn’t a good idea to admit attraction to a man who bought you in a contract. Besides, said man defended my father’s assault on my journalism.
I blink a couple of times then open my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Dallas was hit by a tornado. The governor has called it a disaster zone. FEMA will come in. We’re going to need federal money. I’ve got to go back and assess the damage. Then I may need to get to DC for an emergency vote. This affects my constituents, so I can’t postpone it, even on our wedding night.”
“Of course, we’ll go.”
I start to get up, but Eric frowns at me.
“What else?”
“Sweetheart, it might be better if you stayed with your parents. We’re going into a disaster zone. I honestly don’t even know if my townhouse is still standing. I’m going to start making phone calls on my way to the airport.”
I shoot up in bed. “Oh my God!” I scream and cover my mouth. It’s taken me this long to become alert enough to really process things. Dallas. A tornado. Disaster zone. “I have to call Kristin. I have to go back. It’s not just about you, and I’ll have school tomorrow.”
“I’d feel better if you let me go ahead of you and make sure it’s safe. I’ll send for you.”
“Martinez, let’s get one thing straight. I’m not a child. I will do what I need to do. If SMU has class tomorrow, I’ll be there. Either way, I need to make sure Kristin is okay. And our things are okay.”
He sighs. “Fine, but I don’t like it.”
Chapter 21
Eric
Cold water pours over us. I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to be safe to travel through Arkansas and Oklahoma in this kind of weather. Mandy holds her phone in front of her face and glares at it like it’s some kind of clandestine object responsible for her fate and the weather. She’s clasping a blanket across herself with the other hand. I put an arm around her and hold the blanket tighter for her. “What’s wrong?”
“The subscriber you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time,” she says in a voice meant to be monotone. But Mandy isn’t able to mask her annoyance.
“It’ll be okay. The towers are probably down.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve got to find Kristin.” She punches buttons with the cell phone hand then glares at the phone again.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you wait until we land? They may have the towers back up by then.”
“What if Kristin was picked up in a tornado and she’s hanging from a tree by her shoelaces, waiting to be rescued? I’m supposed to just leave her there until the cell signal is up? You’re a freakin’ senator. You’re running for president. Do something.”
“I think if she’s hanging from a tree by her shoelaces, she may not be able to answer the phone. And there really isn’t anything you or I can do until we’ve landed.”
Blue eyes bore into me. “You may be the most powerful man in the country. You will soon be the most powerful person in the world. My best friend is MIA in a tornado. Do something.”
“I’ll see if I can have a staffer find her and have her call you. Mandy, it really isn’t safe for me to send someone else out to search for her.”
“I’m sorry. But do it, please?” Her voice is too much of a whimper to ignore.
I rub my hand up and down her arm. “I’ll find your friend. It’s going to be okay. I promise.” With one text to Evan, anyone available is on it.
We board the private jet, and the pilot approaches me. “We’re going to have to land in Oklahoma. Power is out in most of north Texas. There are some reports of runways at DFW being damaged. I can’t go into Texas tonight. At least not on the East side. I suppose I could take you over New Mexico and drop you in El Paso.”
I grab the back of my neck, hoping to work the stress out. “Oklahoma is closer. I’ll start working on a rental car.”
Another text to Evan before takeoff. He responds sooner with that one.
Evan: Much easier than your last request, boss.
***
Mandy stares out the windshield of an F-150, watching water and ice pound the glass. The sky lights up blue and sometimes orange.
Her friend hasn’t called yet. “Most of the damage in Arkansas happened toward Texarkana. Your parents are safe. There is that, at least.”
“Okay,” she says.
“You trust me,” I say.
“Huh?” she asks.
“It’s a contract, but you trust me. You volunteered for this ride, and you haven’t complained once about any decision I’ve made.”
She places her hand under her seatbelt and rubs her neck. “I guess I do trust you. You took command of the situation pretty quickly, and I think I’m safe in this storm. But if a funnel pops up beside my window, I may question you.”
I chuckle. “I told you to stay with your parents. I would have had someone drive you. You would have been safe in Arkansas.” My jaw clenches. “Mandy, I can’t promise to keep you safe here. I’ll do the best I can, but you should have listened.”
“And abandon Kristin? What about my apartment? My whole life is in Dallas. It doesn’t make sense for me to bury my head in the dirt and hope a storm leads part of what is mine to me.”
I know she’s smart, but I’ve never realized how strong she is. Being a politician’s wife can be hard.
Chapter 22
Mandy
Hail beats on the truck. “Are we responsible for the hail damage?”
Eric chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I take care of these things. That’s the agreement, right?”
“Wasting money is stupid no matter whose money you’re wasting,” I say.
“True. But I have to get home. This isn’t a waste.”
My phone rings, ending the conversation. “Hello?”
“Umm, two little blond guys just burst through our door saying—”
A thousand pounds lift off my chest, and I exhale. Thank God! Kristin is okay.
“Hey, I’m not little. I work out five days a week. We play soccer,” a boy yells in the background.
“Uh, right, big beef cake.” Kristin’s voice is distant, then into the receiver she says, “Anyway, they burst in and say I need to call the senator’s wife. I told them you weren’t home and they said you were who I’m supposed to call. What the hell? I know we theoretically talked about it, but I figured you would at least tell me before you married some senator.”
“My parents insisted on seeing the wedding. My dad had me married in the backyard last night. Whoa—wait. You want to nail me about a wedding? I wasn’t even sure you were alive.”
“Oh, that. They say campus got hit. Our apartment didn’t. And I haven’t been out to see anything. But the blond boys shoved me in the bathroom. I’m sitting in a bathroom with two strange blond boys who swear they play soccer. They wear UTD shirts but look like high school kids. Care to explain that one?”
“Umm, I have no idea.”
“You might want to find out, because I didn’t marry this guy, you did. What’s he having me watched for? I mean, I realize I’m a poor little woman and he and his friends think I can’t take care of myself. But, man, I did not sign up for this.”
I take the phone away from my ear and cover it with my hand.
“A couple of undergrads are holding Kristin hostage in a bathroom?”
Eric doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “That’s
cool. I just told him to have her found. I didn’t really expect them to execute a safety plan.”
“You knew about this?”
“You told me to find her. Evan put the staffers on it.”
“Well, can you call off the guards so they release Kristin from the bathroom?”
“No. I’m not sending those kids back out into the storm. Sounds like Kristin’s stuck with them to me. At least until the storm blows over.”
I put the phone back to my ear. “I’m sorry, Kristin. It’s my fault. I freaked out and told him to find you.”
“Beyotch. I have an audition in four hours.”
“Are you sure? It sounds like the city was hit pretty hard.”
“Well, I’ll go unless someone tells me not to, so even if it’s canceled, I probably have to be up.”
“Break a leg.”
“Yeah. Probably due to sleep exhaustion.” She hangs up.
Kristin is okay. Our apartment is okay. Relief floods me.
Chapter 23
Eric
“Do you mind if I turn the radio on? I’m getting tired, and we’ve got an hour to go.”
She reaches over and turns it on for me.
“Can you hit scan?”
A rough voice screams into the speakers. “Wait. Hit scan again. Stop it there.”
Mandy punches the button on the stereo and relaxes back into her seat.
“You know I am actually happy about this. Tornadoes ripping across the south. Five confirmed dead. Kourtney Simpleton has the opportunity to offer condolences to suffering people. Instead, she uses it as another opportunity to talk about her Make America Superior plans and how banning all immigrants will keep us safe. Martinez might not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but I’m pretty sure we’re winning this election. Simpleton basically just handed it to him on a silver platter. And doesn’t she realize the people she wants to ban are traditionally her own voters? So what do you think? Is there a way for Martinez to screw this one up?”
I groan, “Turn off the radio.” I’m never going to catch a break.
“That woman is nuts.” Mandy leans up and turns off the radio. “But isn’t this good for you?”
“Not really, Mandy. I can’t see how it’s good for anyone. There is the very real chance that I’ll lose this election, and I have no idea what Simpleton will do to the country. I wouldn’t have been desperate enough to hire a wife for any other reason. This isn’t the first time she has said something like this. It’s just the first time she was so blunt about it. I’m the son of immigrants.”
“But he said you would win now.”
“It’s May. There are still six months ’til November. Anything can happen. This has to be responded to. I can’t just leave it. If I point out that she’s discriminating against her own voters, it could turn off my voters, who you would expect this kind of stupidity from. And if I don’t come out strong enough, I lose the chance to pick up some of her annoyed voters. I’ve got to get with Evan and the speechwriters. And I’m not going to have time because I’m sure I’ll need to go to DC to vote for federal funds for Texas.”
“I could probably write your speech. I’m good at that kind of thing.”
“Thanks for the offer, but my speechwriters have been involved in campaign politics for a long time. They’ve studied the exact thing to say to elicit the right reaction.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s called writing. I’m somewhat decent at it.”
“I think it’s better to let the professionals do their jobs.”
She laughs and leans back into her seat. “Right. I’ll stick with basket-weaving.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Can this night get any worse?
Needing to distract myself, I turn the radio back on. The screaming voice grows staticky, but he’s still there. “Apparently, there is a way for Martinez to mess this up. He married Senator Buchanan’s twenty-eight-year-old daughter tonight. Mandy Buchanan has always been a beauty, and this could help to rally the party, but he should have done it during the primary. Way to go, Martinez. The whole news cycle this weekend will discuss your nuptials. Not your opponent’s blatant racism.”
Okay, so that wasn’t the distraction I was going for. My phone rings.
“Can you answer that?”
The phone lays on the console between us. Her hands get close like she’s about to pick it up, and I wish she would because it’s still ringing. Then she slides her hand away. “Are you sure? I know this was more of an arrangement of convenience than anything else. If you have someone calling you at 3:00 a.m., I don’t want to interfere.”
The phone keeps ringing, and it takes me a second to figure out what she said. I laugh. “Mandy, it’s not a woman. Can you please just find out who needs what from me?”
“Hello?” she says. “He’s driving. We’ll be there soon. Can I help with something?” She’s silent for a moment. “Okay. Thank you. Best of luck to you too.” She returns the phone to the console. “Your neighbor says the townhouse building has suffered damage and he doesn’t know about your unit, but he suspects you may have damage because he does.”
“We’ll get a hotel. I’m going to have to deal with everything else before I can worry about my townhouse.”
Chapter 24
Mandy
Eric doesn’t bother with sleep. As soon as we get to the hotel, he starts calling local authorities to determine the most affected regions.
“I need to go take photos to estimate damages. I need to know how much money it’s going to take to get life back to normal, and if I have to get to DC in a hurry…” He pauses. “I’m sorry, Mandy, I may not be home before I leave. Are you going to be okay? SMU campus got hit pretty hard. I know your apartment complex is okay, but I think you’re probably safer here. You could have Kristin come stay with you.”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“This is not the time for your sarcastic jokes. We’ve been married less than a day, and I’m leaving you in a disaster zone. I feel horrible.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive. How can I help?”
“Just hang out here until you hear from me. That’s all you need to do.”
“Do you have the marriage license on you?”
“It’s in my suitcase,” he says.
“Leave it with me.”
Eric laughs. “Are you worried about something?”
“No. But we’ve been married for one day, and you’re leaving me in a disaster zone. Sync your address book to my phone and leave me all of your email accounts and passwords. I’d like a credit card too, please.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Mandy, what’s going on?” He takes his wallet from his back pocket and hands me a credit card. “I should have made sure you had a credit card before I left, but my phone contacts and email passwords?”
“So I can check your itinerary if I need to find you. My parents always did this.” I cock my head. “Of course, that didn’t keep my dad from having an affair. But I’ve told you I’m not worried about that. I understand you didn’t marry me because you’re so desperately in love with me. You’re a friend. I’d like to know you’re okay.”
He smiles, places his hands on my hips, and pulls me to him. “Mandy, there is no one else. I promise.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know. I’m just saying I’m glad you care, and I’ll leave you everything you asked for.”
I gaze up into his deep brown eyes, and then my gaze falls to his lips. When he says things like what he just said, it’s impossible to remember this is a contract. His face moves closer to mine. Before I know it, our lips touch, part, play. His tongue is inside of my mouth and nothing else matters. Between the pressure of his arms behind my back and his tongue in my mouth, my legs tremble in anticipation.
He pulls away. “I should go. Give me your phone.”
“It’s on the nightstand.”
He picks it up, plays with it for a second, and puts it down again. “It’s synced. You have all
of my contacts and all of my emails.” He gives me a mock scowl. “Don’t run any basket-weaving campaigns from my email.”
I smile. “Deal.”
Eric leaves, and at 4:00 a.m., I call Bill Ross, Speaker of the House.
“Ross here. What’s the emergency?” The annoyance in his voice is hard to miss. People are dead and missing here. Glad you care.
“This is Amanda Buchanan. The Senator needs to know if you’re expecting an emergency vote and when it will be.”
“Emergency vote. What’s happened now?”
“Half of Texas and most of Oklahoma have been declared a disaster zone.”
“If Jack has to have his college student daughter call me at 4:00 a.m., he must think it’s extensive damage.”
“I’m calling for Eric Martinez, my husband.”
“He did not wake me up at 4:00 a.m. to score political points out of this for his White House run.”
“You’re right. He didn’t. I did, because this is my home. My husband hasn’t slept at all. He just drove across the southwest, and he’s out surveying damage right now to know what is going to be needed. He kissed me on the cheek and told me he probably wouldn’t be home before he left for DC, and I’d like to buy him a plane ticket and have his luggage packed since between the dead and missing here, he might not have time to do that himself. Answer my question, please, and then I’d love to let you get back to your lovely blizzard and beer or whatever it is you do where it snows every day.”
“I’ll need forty-eight hours to get everyone here for an emergency vote. He can come in as soon as he can, though. I’m sure we can start meeting with people and agencies.”
I walk in standing water for twenty minutes before I manage to find a cab. At Eric’s townhouse, I convince a maintenance guy to let me in. Cracks run down one wall. The water inside the apartment is ankle deep, and glass floats on it from a window that must have imploded. Most of the damage is water. I slog through ankle deep water to his closet. I find one suit and a couple of shirts and ties with no damage.
