“You’re wearing my sweatshirt,” I said dumbly. “When did you get that?”
She pulled it away from her chest and then shrugged. “I’m not sure. But when I got it, I didn’t bother trying to give it back. I like it.” Her eyes narrowed again. “And don’t think that you can change the subject.” She turned her back on me and headed into the kitchen where a chocolate cake with chocolate icing sat on a stand in the middle of her kitchen island. “I can’t believe I just all of a sudden had a hankering for cake. I wouldn’t have normally done this. It’s kismet.”
I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, my hands coming to a stop on her lower abdomen as I pulled her closer into me.
“I don’t usually share my birthday with anyone,” I admitted. “When I was younger, my mother always used to use it as a political appearance. An ‘oh look how special I treat my only son when it’s his birthday.’ When I was around fourteen, I stopped asking for presents, and my parents conveniently forgot that it was my birthday a lot of the times, so I make up my birthday, since they don’t acknowledge it anyway. It’s just habit now. The only person that really always remembered was Brad and the other secret service agents that watched over me.”
“Brad?” she asked. “The one that you think is possibly responsible for hurting your father and murdering your mother?”
“How did you hear that?” I asked carefully, turning her around to face me.
“My dad and your boss, Luke, got to talking. They were really careful about being quiet, but I kind of sort of snuck up on them. We used to do that a lot when we were kids.” She paused. “Are you mad at me?”
I was actually kind of relieved.
“You know all the stuff that I wasn’t telling you?” I asked.
“Some of it.” She paused. “I know that you were the only son of our president when I was in middle school. I know that your mother was murdered, and your father is in critical condition at a hospital surrounded by round-the-clock surveillance in Dallas. I also know that you think that one of your ex-secret service agents was responsible. Or at least, possibly, based on what your father said to you on the telephone the night that you took off and broke it off with me.”
I stared at her in shock.
She knew all of it.
At least, all that I’d told Luke, that was.
“What kind of hiding spot do you have?” I asked. “Because that’s kind of scary that you can find out all of that information and you weren’t even detected.”
“Actually,” she admitted, “it’s not all that surprising or stealthy on my part. I was talking to my dad before he went into Luke’s office to talk to him. And the majority of the time, Dad never hangs up the phone, he always expects you to hang up. This time, though, I was driving and my button wasn’t hanging up the phone. It took me a few seconds too long to hang up, and when I heard your name come up before I was about to do it manually, I kind of stilled my hand. And eavesdropped like a motherfucker.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that left my throat at her admission.
“I guess that makes me feel better,” I admitted. “I mean, I was dreading all day long having to tell you all of this. It’s not that I don’t want you to know, but it’s really hard to say, ‘oh hey, by the way, I’m the son of a president.’”
She walked to her fridge and started to pull out cold cuts and cheese.
“You hungry?” she asked.
Actually, I was starving.
But something brought me up short.
“Why aren’t you at work today?” I asked.
She grinned at me.
“Most of the dockets are cleared by now. Which mine is. I don’t have any more cases that I have to hear until after New Year’s,” she said.
“I wish my job was like that. All crime is to cease until after New Year’s.” I snorted a laugh and walked up to lean my hip against the counter next to her.
“So, tell me what happened at the party that had you looking so freaked out for a couple of minutes,” she ordered as she started to lay slices of bread out on her counter.
I pulled my phone out and showed the text voicemail to her.
You’re not going to find what you’re looking for where you’re looking for it.
“How well did you know Brad?” she asked curiously after reading it, her eyes on me and not the phone that was displaying the text from my voicemail.
“I thought I knew him really well,” I admitted. “Like, I would’ve had him be the godfather of any of my kids if I have any. Phillipe and Daniel were always my bodyguards, but Brad always felt like a friend to me. I just… this blindsided me. I feel like all the starch has been taken out of me.”
“Are you sure that he’s the bad guy in this situation?” she asked carefully. “Because people don’t just change like that. At least, not that I feel like they should.”
I recalled my father’s words exactly.
“Kid,” I recounted his words. “Something happened. Brad…” I paused, mimicking the pause of my father choking on his own blood. “Brad… betrayed.”
She stared at me.
“That could mean anything,” she said. “Brad, pause, betrayed could very well mean Brad was betrayed. Or Brad found out who betrayed. There are a thousand combinations that he could have meant.”
I knew that.
“I know.” I pressed my fingertips to my eyeballs. “Where the fuck is Brad then?”
“That, I don’t know,” she answered. “There are a lot of things that you know about the man that I don’t. If he were hurt or injured or something was happening, wouldn’t you think he would try to get into contact with you? Was this the same man that you called to send us all kinds of stuff?”
I nodded miserably.
“A guy that doesn’t like you doesn’t send you shit like that,” she told me. “He’ll do the very basic of what he needs to do. That means that he didn’t have to resend you clothes that didn’t itch. He didn’t have to send the washing machine and dryer, which might I add I have no use for so why did you have them bring them here?”
My grin kicked up the corner of my lips.
“I don’t even do my own laundry. I have my house cleaner do it,” I admitted. “What would I do with that laundry machine?”
She sighed and shook her head. “The tree was beautiful, though. Thank you for having them send it to my house.”
I frowned. “I didn’t have it sent to your house.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Then how did you get it here? You were the one to go pick up all the stuff. How did the washer get here?”
I frowned. “I brought it over with your other stuff and left it on the porch. I then called your dad to tell him that I needed him to make sure he helped you get that inside. I… the tree? I didn’t bring that over here. In fact, that tree wasn’t even in the pile of stuff that I saw. I thought they tossed it, honestly.”
She tilted her head. “One of the men from the hotel brought it over here. Maybe from the CDC?”
A thought filled me with dread. “What did the guy look like? The one that brought it over here?”
She frowned hard and stopped the process of making us sandwiches to pull her phone out of her pocket.
From there she started to go through it, pulling up an app, and then turning so that I could see the video that she’d pulled up.
“Here,” she said as she showed me the video. “That’s him.”
My stomach all but sank.
“That’s Brad,” I said.
He was older than the last time I’d seen him, and he looked like he was moving a little stiffly, as if he was hurt.
His eyes, though, didn’t miss anything.
He knew the camera was there because he looked at it full on and made sure that I knew that he knew it was there.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s Brad? I guess I thought he was from the CDC.”
I nodded. “That’s him.”
I stiffened slightly at
the way that Brad literally just waltzed up to Carolina and walked straight into her house. Carolina didn’t even know that she should be afraid.
That was the truly scary thing.
Brad may or may not be the one who hurt my dad and murdered my mother, but I sure the hell knew he was a killer when he had to be.
Brad joined the secret service after spending years as an Army Ranger. Then as a police officer after that. I knew damn well and good that Brad could do things that most people could only dream of.
I walked away from where Carolina moved back to finish making the sandwiches and walked over to where the tree stood in her living room.
I’d seen it upon walking in, but Smoke had taken up a lot of my concentration.
Speaking of, I walked to the back of the couch and looked over it at him to find him sleeping peacefully. His chest rose and fell, a soft snore leaving his lips every few seconds.
Seeing that he was fine, I walked to the tree and stared at it in curiosity.
My eyes took in all the numerous glass balls, Swarovski icicles and random other things that Carolina had put up there, but then my eyes snagged on what looked to be a black ball, in the middle of all the white and gold, that hadn’t been there before.
Son of a bitch.
I reached for it, remembering when Brad and I used to go through all of the White House Christmas trees—or, more honestly, me while Brad supervised—and add random plastic balls to all of the expensive trees that didn’t match at all.
It used to drive my mother insane to find those random plastic balls, but every single year, Brad supplied them for me, and every single year, he would laugh his ass off without actually smiling in any way while I went on my crusades.
With shaking fingers, I reached up and pulled the black ball down, unsurprised to find that it was a cheap plastic one.
I was also unsurprised when I pried the silver topper off and found a note inside.
However, after doing my level best to shake it out, I couldn’t get it out.
Walking back into the kitchen, I found Carolina plating two sandwiches for me.
Having learned my preferences when we’d lived together for half a month, I knew that she’d done it exactly right.
She turned with the plates in her hand to find me standing there with a black ornament in my hand.
“Where’d that come from?” she asked.
I held it up for her to see. “It was on the tree.”
Her eyes widened. “Is there something in there?”
I nodded. “I can’t get it out, though.”
She put the plates onto the counter and turned to hold her hand out for it.
I gave it to her, blinking in surprise when she dropped the ball onto the floor and then stomped on it.
The ornament cracked with a viciousness that honestly surprised me.
For them being ‘shatterproof’ they sure shattered really well.
The moment her foot moved, a white piece of lined paper fell free, and she bent down to retrieve it before handing it to me.
I frowned as I took the paper, then started to unfold it.
The moment the familiar handwriting met my eyes, I wanted to throw up.
Saint,
I know that by the time that you’re reading this, you’ll realize that your mother is dead and your father was nearly killed.
I want to say how sorry I am for not protecting your parents better. It was my job to keep them safe, and I failed.
I know who the shooter was, though, and I want you to know that I’m tracking them.
I will not be contacting you via normal means. The people that are responsible for the murder of your mother, and the attempted murder of your father, are good. They’ve already breached my phone, so don’t accept any calls or texts from me as ‘from me.’
I’ll contact you as soon as I have more information.
As of right now, that’s very minimal. However, I would like you to know that going to your chief of police was a good move. Tell him that the man he has looking into it, the mayor, is a good man to have on his side. Also mention that Bruno, the mayor’s right-hand man, is very good, but he’s not good enough to fool me. I know he’s been in my house, and I know that he’s put a bug on my car. For now, I’ll allow it to stay because I like knowing someone is at my back, even if they’re not sure I’m good or not.
Phillipe and Daniel protecting your father is also a good idea. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are good and on your father’s side. However, now that the media knows about your father, whoever is responsible for this will try to ramp up their attempts to finalize their mistake in letting your father live. He saw the shooter’s face. I did not.
When he wakes, ask your father immediately if it was anyone in his inner circle. Those are the only people I would trust enough to allow your father to be alone with them.
Don’t make the same mistake of trusting them like I did. Someone is a traitor to their country. Don’t trust them to back off now.
Also, you need to protect yourself and your girl. If I got in, others will, too.
Don’t let them.
Brad
His words literally made me sick to my stomach.
But relief at knowing that Brad wasn’t responsible—though I’d always kind of thought it but wasn’t willing to admit it—was like a weight off my shoulders.
I had Brad.
I had Phillipe.
I had Daniel.
Those were three of the most trusted men that I’d always had in my life.
Carolina, realizing that I was done, took the note from my trembling hands and read over it.
Her face scrunched up when she got to the last part.
“You’re going to leave again, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
I nodded.
“I don’t like that idea.” She tossed the note down on the counter next to the sandwiches and reached for mine. Once she handed it to me, she reached back for her own plate and took a bite of her sandwich. Once she’d chewed, she leveled me with a glance once again. “I don’t agree that this is what you need,” she said, looking at me carefully. “But if you feel like this is the only way, then I’m not going to argue with you. If you need to pretend for a little bit, that’s fine. But don’t let this go on too long, Saint. I don’t want to wait forever.”
Her words were like a balm to my soul.
“I won’t wait forever,” I told her. “I’m going to go give this to Luke, though. Who can pass it off to the right people.”
A frown formed on her face.
“I’m leaving Smoke here,” I said. “He’s off for a week anyway. He can help protect you.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s why you’re leaving, isn’t it? To make sure that nothing does happen to me?”
When she said it like that it made me feel dumb.
But I had a gut feeling that the less ammo I gave whoever it was, the better it would be.
With one last longing look, a grab of the note, and a swift kiss on her mouth, I walked out the door and didn’t look back.
Not even when Smoke barked at me to come back.
• • •
“He’s good,” Luke said as he eyed first me, and then the mayor. “If he made Bruno, then he’s really good.”
Bruno, the man that Brad referred to as the mayor’s right-hand man, didn’t look nearly as pleased.
“So pretty much, you have nothing more to go on other than you think Brad didn’t do it based on his words alone,” he said.
I patted my chest.
“I know Brad. That was why it was so difficult for me to believe that about my father and him. That man took a bullet for me when I was a young kid. He also has sustained multiple broken bones through protecting my father. A man like that doesn’t just change. He’s been with my father since the beginning. The very first day. I think of that man as a second father. If he said it wasn’t him, I believe him.”
“You’re willing to
bet your father’s life on that?” he asked.
Was I?
I looked at Bruno who didn’t look happy in the least.
“I know it wasn’t him,” I said. “I also know, for a matter of fact, that if it was Brad, my father wouldn’t be alive right now. Brad is too skilled to make those kind of mistakes. I don’t talk to my father but once every couple of months. My mother about the same amount of time. I would’ve never even thought to check on them until they didn’t show up for a certain appearance.”
Now Bruno understood that more than anything I’d said to convince him all night.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “That’s also why I was hesitant to believe that it was him.”
“Agreed,” Luke and the mayor, Lynn, said at the same time.
I ran my hand over the back of my neck.
“I have a list of about five people in my father’s inner circle. Brad being one of them. My mother as well. That leaves three men that Brad would’ve entrusted a code to get up to our cabin. Odin Ridgeline, Elton Falls, and Juris Holloway.”
One of them had to be behind it. There was no other explanation.
Bruno started to make a note on a pad of paper in front of him, and for a second, I saw something in him that I wasn’t quite sure that I should ever see in someone that was the ‘right-hand man’ of a mayor.
He looked like a stone-cold killer. Someone that, in my understanding, would be better suited for the battlefield, and not politics.
Which then made me look at Lynn, the mayor.
He was an older man in his late forties. He wasn’t huge, but he wasn’t small either. And he had this air about him that made people sit up and pay attention.
Out of the two men, Bruno was the ‘in your face’ one. But Lynn? He looked like a man that you’d go play golf with on Sunday, and then when I looked at him just right, he also looked like a man that would rip my throat out and then continue to putt the ball as if nothing had happened. As if the blood of his enemies wasn’t soaking the green around his feet.
“Out of the three, which one do you think that it is?” Lynn asked bluntly.
Depends on Who's Asking Page 13
