Solace (Devastation Trilogy Book 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  Both our phones go off again, almost at the same time, and I once again silence them.

  “What do we do first?” I ask. Obviously, the news is breaking. Life is about to get insane in a really horrible way.

  She sits there, frozen, crying, staring at the numbers she wrote down as if she can’t believe this is happening. “I…I need to get hold of Chase and the kids. And Tyson.” those are George’s brothers. Chase and the kids are on a trip to Alaska right now.

  “Okay. What else?” It terrifies me she seems frozen. I’ve seen her handle all sorts of stressful events literally without breaking a sweat.

  That she’s reacting like this is—

  Oh, fuck.

  It’s starting to hit me now.

  This is really, really bad.

  She stands but doesn’t move, still looking at those phone numbers, just the tips of her fingers touching her desk blotter, lightly tapping it.

  Sniffling back tears, she looks at me. “They’re sending a charter flight from Atlanta to LAX. We’ll be flown to the Philippines from there. Go to my house and pack for me. For at least a week. Jeans, shorts, sneakers, practical blouses. Two pairs of khakis and a lightweight blazer for being in front of cameras. They’re flying us out to Manila. I’ll arrange a charter to Atlanta for myself.”

  I pull out my phone, call up my notes, and start adding tasks as she talks. The small, exclusive enclave where they live is near Belle Meade, southwest of the city, and the airport is all the way over here, near the law offices, on the opposite side of Nashville.

  “My passport is in the safe in my bedroom closet,” she continues. “When you get there, call me for the combination.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She reaches out, her fingers curling around my left arm, as if holding on to maintain her balance. “Pack my personal laptop and my tablet in my carryon. I have a thing of charger converters in a drawer in my desk in the upstairs office.”

  I note it, not interrupting as she lists a few other items for me to do and pack for her. I have keys and the alarm code for her house, obviously. For George and Ellen’s, too, since I was his body man for his last state senate campaign and frequently had to get stuff for him.

  As if reading my mind, Casey hesitates. “In my safe, there’s also a…” She chokes up. “There’s a large manila envelope with George and Ellen’s name on it. Bring me that, too, please.”

  Nodding, I add it to the list. “Anything I need to get for you from their house? Paperwork? Powers of attorney?”

  “No.” She sniffles, and I falter, looking at her. “The manila envelope in my safe has the powers of attorney in them, and copies of all their personal information, and their…wills.”

  A thousand-yard stare fills her light brown eyes. “Can…can you take over my cases for me for now? All of them? Paid and pro bono?”

  “Of course.”

  She nods. “Thanks. You have my password for my login. Get with Lila, and she’ll get you the details of who I’m handling.” Then she grabs a tissue and dabs at her eyes. “Fuck.” She’s shaking her head. “This can’t be real.” When she meets my gaze again, there are tears in her eyes. “Please tell me this is a nightmare, Dec.”

  I set my phone aside and pull her into my arms to hold her. She crumples against me, softly sobbing.

  That crushes me.

  “They’re both strong and in excellent health,” I say. “If the plane ditched intact, I know he got them both out. As Ellen always says, he’s a tough motherfucker.”

  Except we both know those are useless words. We have no idea if the plane ditched, or if it exploded in mid-air, or if it nose-dived into the water and disintegrated.

  The chances of them surviving are slim to none.

  Still, I feel the need to try to instill hope in her.

  Even if I have none of my own right now.

  * * * *

  Three weeks after this nightmare began, and tomorrow we’re having the memorial for Ellen and George. They recovered Ellen’s body, but not George’s.

  We might never have answers, resolution. It leaves me feeling hollow and bitter. He wasn’t merely a coworker, or someone I worked for in the course of his campaign or official state duties. I considered him a mentor and a close friend. Him and Ellen, both.

  Casey is her usual stoic self in public or around the kids or George’s brothers. But…

  In private, I’m seeing the vulnerable side of her I honestly had thought didn’t exist. Throughout the years I’ve seen her in “neutral” mode countless times, just plain Casey. But this woman is shattered and broken in ways I didn’t think possible for her.

  In ways I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to help her put back together again.

  Damn sure know I’ll do my best to try. Like hell will I ever walk away from her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever been with, and the only one I ever want to be with. She’s the love of my life.

  Right now, she reminds me in some ways of my mother—no, not the age difference, asshole—but the deep well of grief front and center in her life and consuming her from the inside out. There is no solace I can give her.

  The atmosphere at the law office is one of stunned disbelief, quiet grief. Casey hasn’t let anyone clean out George’s office yet, not that anyone’s tried.

  None of us have the heart to.

  We attended the somber swearing-in ceremony of George’s and Ed Willis’ successors last week. There were few dry eyes in the house. That office—the Speaker’s office—Casey and I will clean out this weekend. She’d asked for them to wait to let us do it the weekend after the memorial service, and they kindly agreed.

  I’m at home tonight because Casey wanted to be alone last night. In the morning, I’ll drive her to the memorial, even though the kids asked if she wanted to ride with them and their uncles, George’s brothers.

  I know without asking that it’s because Casey knows she’s going to break down in a very ugly way and doesn’t want them witnessing it. She hasn’t told me the full story yet, but I know she and Ellen were far more than just friends back in college. She’s not only broken-hearted from the double loss of her friends and of a coworker.

  She’s mourning a lost love.

  George didn’t know, because Ellen didn’t want him to know.

  Is it wrong to feel a little jealous of the dead? That maybe the reason Casey will never marry me is because she never healed from the pain of Ellen marrying George?

  And in that case, how could Casey remain so close to not only Ellen, but to George, too? Just watching them together, I know she cares about George. It’s not just an act or a mask with her. She trusts the man, as a friend and professionally.

  I’m not sure I could be so magnanimous. Which is one of the many reasons I love this complex woman with all my heart.

  My sleep tonight is far from restful, full of nightmares, when my phone rings and startles me awake. It’s Casey’s custom tone, so I don’t even bother looking when I answer.

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  At the sound of her sobbing, I’m immediately awake and sitting up. “Casey? What’s wrong?” My mind spins out a thousand other nightmares—the kids, George’s brothers, something. Ellen wasn’t close to her sisters, apparently. They’ll be there at the ceremony, but they’re all staying at a hotel tonight and the kids didn’t want to get together with them.

  Casey’s trying to talk and can’t get it out. When she finally manages something that sounds like words, I’m sure I’ve misheard her. “What? Sweetheart, calm down. I can’t understand you.”

  She sucks in a deep breath. “George! He’s alive! He just called me!”

  “He…” I process that. “What? Are you sure it’s—”

  “Yes! I know it’s him! They found him and four others on a tiny little island. A commercial fishing ship rescued them. He’s alive, and he’s coming home! I talked to a government guy, too. It’s real, it’s not a hoax. It’s really him!”

  She starts sobbing
again. “I’m in my car. I just left their house. I had to tell the kids and Chase and Tyson. George called my cell. Mine was the only number he could remember. They just reached land a couple of hours ago. The memorial’s off. He asked us not to hold it until he’s back. Start making calls and cancel it.”

  I hear her starting to pull herself together, Ma’am finally back in the house after weeks of grief. “We need to put out a press release, and we—”

  “Casey,” I firmly say in Declan the attorney mode and pulling her up short. “It’s three in the morning.” I’m already up and moving. “I’ll get dressed and come over and we’ll do this together so we can blast everything out ahead of the early news shows in Eastern time. I’ll do the on-air stand-ups for the local stations. Okay?”

  “O-okay.” She starts crying again. “Dec, he’s alive!”

  I can’t deny I’m feeling a little misty-eyed right now, too. But this is…this is fucking huge. If Casey was in her right mind, she’d be processing it and understanding we have to move mountains in the next twelve hours. Because this is political platinum, and we won’t even have to dig for it. It’s being dumped right in our laps.

  For starters, we need to have the General Assembly vacate what they did and start over, declaring George the governor.

  Because he is.

  They’ll have to walk back everything a step, the line of succession.

  And we need to hit this morning’s news shows hard and heavy first thing, declaring that Governor George Forrester was rescued, so that public pressure is already leaning with crushing force on the General Assembly. They won’t dare try to fight us then.

  “I know, sweetie,” I gently say. “He’s alive, but you’re now the chief of staff to the governor, and we need to get shit done. Including we need to get a court order, today, overturning his death certificate and get him back in the system.”

  “Yeah.” She tearfully laughs. “You’re deputy chief of staff, by the way. Congratulations. My first hire.”

  I chuckle. My Ma’am will return soon, but for now hearing the woman I love with all my heart laugh is a blessed thing I won’t ever forget. “Yes, Ma’am. I accept.”

  I always knew this would be the case, but not that it would happen this soon in my life…or ever, after what happened. George had been noodling when to time his run for the office but hadn’t yet decided if it’d be this next cycle or the time after.

  No time like the present, I suppose.

  I grab a quick shower to wake me up and pack a couple of suits for later, because I can’t remember how many I have at Casey’s right now. Plus my work laptop, my personal laptop, both phones, and chargers for everything. For now, I’m in a T-shirt and sweats, but I’ll be dressed in a suit before I end up in front of a camera. I know it’ll be me because Casey’s in no shape to do the on-air stand-ups right now.

  I throw everything into the backseat of my SUV and head out, pulling through an all-night McDonald’s for two large, black coffees to wake me up. Usually I prefer them with sugar and creamer, but my body needs the extra jolt to catch up with the mental and emotional jolt that woke me up.

  I park in her garage when I get there, and as I walk into the kitchen, carrying everything, she runs into the room. She’s adorable, wearing her Snoopy PJs, and the kind of beaming smile I’ve never seen on her face before.

  Ever.

  I barely have time to set everything down before she’s jubilantly screaming at the top of her lungs, dancing in place and making me laugh before she launches herself at me. I catch her as she wraps herself around me, arms and legs, and kisses me, nearly sucking the air from my lungs.

  Carrying her over to the counter so I don’t drop her, because she’s squirming so much, I hold her head still so I can kiss her.

  I get it.

  This is a celebration, maybe all the sweeter for coming on the back of such a tragedy. Somewhere in all of that, our kissing takes on a frantic energy, needy, hungry. She starts shimmying out of her PJ bottoms and I shove the waistband of my sweats down. I take her right there on the kitchen counter, our wild energy needing an outlet, demanding release before it consumes both of us.

  We both need it hard and deep right now. Like this, I manage to coax two out of her before I quit holding back and bury my cock in her one last time, filling her, falling still with our kisses growing sweet and tender.

  Now she’s holding my head in her hands, nuzzling, all her walls down for a few precious minutes that I will always treasure.

  “I love you so fucking much, Declan,” she says. “I never want to leave it unsaid.”

  “I love you, too, Case.” I rub noses with her. “I promise I’m never willingly going anywhere.”

  She sadly smiles. “Me, either.”

  We both sigh, followed by a chuckle. This is our normal, our default now.

  “Better, Ma’am?” I ask.

  She draws back just enough she can look me in the eyes, and she’s wearing the most beautiful smile. “Soooo much better, boy. I’d say you have no idea, but I think you actually do.”

  I nod. “I do, Ma’am.”

  Her eyes go bright as she blinks back tears. “You…know, right?”

  I node again. “Yes, Ma’am.” She doesn’t need to clarify.

  I sense her thinking for a moment. “That’s still all privileged,” she softly says. “She didn’t want me to tell him, and I’ll honor that unless I have a damned good reason not to. Unless I ever tell him…please take that to your grave.”

  “I will.”

  Then her arms envelop me, squeezing tightly, desperately. “I don’t believe in fucking miracles—”

  “But this is a fucking miracle,” I finish.

  “Amen.” She sniffles. “I haven’t prayed in so fucking long. I lost my faith when…” She doesn’t finish. I know that cloud in her soul is related to her secrets, to whatever happened to her as a kid, but she still hasn’t told me the details.

  I’ll never push her to, either.

  Instead, I chose to step back into Declan the attorney mode first, before Casey the chief of staff can return. To give her the easy out. “We’ll need to push that angle for the Evangelicals. It’s a miracle, prayers work, yadda-yadda.”

  “Fuck.” She laughs. “It’s damned spooky you can read my mind like that.”

  I shrug. “I was blessed enough to have the world’s best mentor.”

  It’s another moment. Then she brushes a tender kiss across my lips. “Tonight, or whenever we finally can get horizontal and alone for a little while, it’s going to be Declan’s choice.” Her smile promises mischievous pleasure.

  “I serve at your pleasure, Ma’am.”

  “Technically, you’re now serving at the pleasure of the governor of Tennessee.” She grins. “Good thing I have an in with the motherfucker.”

  “Can’t be much more of a slave-driver than my current boss.”

  Her laughter sounds clear and bright, and after our weeks of darkness, it’s a beautiful, gorgeous sound. “You said it, boy.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Now

  Monday, I accompany George to a working lunch with his cabinet. Casey is tied up in a private arm-twisting session over some budget issues with a couple of state senators.

  Although I find sitting is definitely interesting today, because I spent my Sunday literally tied up in one position or another, and sport bruises on top of my bruises.

  That isn’t a complaint.

  It makes life interesting, because every ache has my cock wanting to harden over the pain, and the memories of why I’m in pain.

  Doesn’t help that the weekend apparently invigorated George. He’s acting particularly frisky today and takes every private moment he can to drop me a wink, or bite his lower lip, or some little gesture that has my cock roaring to life and me struggling not to squirm or adjust myself.

  Fucking sadist.

  Dammit, I love all of this.

  After the lunch ends, before we can head
back to our office suite, Commissioner Darren Freeman, the labor commissioner, hangs back to have another word with George. The man’s a well-known attorney from Memphis, and we’re hoping his political clout will help deliver George even more votes.

  Then I realize it’s me he wants to speak with, but George stays at his invitation.

  “Don’t want anyone accusing me of being a coward and going behind your back, Governor.” He turns to me. “You know, Declan, my law office is very interested in talking to you about bringing you on as a partner.”

  I was expecting him to want to discuss many things, but that hadn’t blipped my radar.

  George stands with his hands in his pockets, feet shoulder-width apart, body tense. His practice debate stance. Maybe no one but Casey and I recognize it, but he’s ready to do battle.

  “Trying to snipe him out from under me, are you, Darren?” George’s blue gaze bores into mine, challenging, daring me to defy him.

  This is my barely disguised Sir in the house, the sadist, the man who makes me unabashedly whimper and beg for every dark and dirty thing he does for me.

  And has me enjoying every second of it.

  Once again, my cock wakes up and howls. Fortunately, I’m carrying my laptop in my hands. I shift it in front of me to hide the tent in my slacks.

  “He’s got a reputation, Governor,” Darren says. “You darn well know it.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Don’t know if she told you or not,” Darren says, “but I tried to hire Casey-Marie away from you a while back. She told me I could go fuck myself.”

  George and I both laugh. “That sounds about right,” I comment, although I’m a little surprised to hear him say this. Casey didn’t tell me that. I wonder if she told George, since he doesn’t look surprised by this news.

  “I’ve been authorized to guarantee you a minimum of $500,000 a year to start,” Darren adds. “You’d be a full senior partner. Your record precedes you, counselor. You are a heavy earner, and we expect with your experience in state government and politics that you’d be bringing in some major clients. All you have to do is accept. Starting immediately.”