“You remember my daughter, Elizabeth?” Ambassador Wilford asked.
Evan gulped. He remembered her, alright, but this was not what he remembered! This was a beautiful woman, with long legs and glossy auburn hair and huge green eyes. Not a twerp!
“Uh, yeah,” he finally managed, setting down the tools and extending his hand. To his relief, she stepped forward and grasped it.
“Hi, Evan. It’s been a long time.” She smiled then, a knockout smile that lit her face and eyes like sunshine.
He could barely breathe. He swallowed. Reminded himself to stop staring.
“Yeah,” he said. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Where were his words? What happened to his language skills? Cat got his tongue?
Embarrassed, he bent down and picked up his lug wrench. At least he still knew how to change a tire. Sheesh!
He loosened the lug nuts slightly, then jacked up the vehicle, removed the lug nuts, put on her spare tire, partially tightened the lug nuts, lowered the Audi, and finished tightening the nuts. He didn’t say a word the entire time, but he was constantly aware of her mesmerizing presence. Her little black sandals and slim calves stayed in his peripheral vision as he worked.
Finally, he stood up.
“Well. I think you’re good to go.” He looked at her, taking in her high cheekbones, red lips and those eyes – those amazing green eyes!
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She looked toward her dad. “Ready?”
“Yes,” the ambassador answered, then turned his gaze on Evan. “But why don’t you join us for lunch, Evan. Around noon?”
Elizabeth glanced his way. Waiting for an answer.
“Uh, yeah. Yep. That would be great!” He nodded and smiled. The pair got into the Audi. Evan picked up his tools.
He was such a dope! He’d lost his entire grasp on the English language for the better part of ten minutes! He sounded like a hayseed, not like the college professor he’d finally become. Ugh.
Head low, he trudged up the driveway. Elizabeth must think he was an idiot.
How’d she become so beautiful? She’d been a scrawny kid, annoying him and his big brother Zach every time they turned around. She followed them around, trying to climb the trees they climbed, splashing the water when they looked for frogs in Simpson Creek, all that annoying kid stuff.
And now, she looked like a model. He should’ve been nicer to her!
He put the tools back in his pickup. Perhaps he’d have a chance to redeem himself at lunch. Noon wasn’t that far off.
Which meant it was almost 9 a.m. on the west coast. Maybe he could reach Zach and Katie now.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
And got the newly familiar, “All circuits are busy. Please try your call again later” message. He sighed. Hopefully they were okay. They’d been on their way out of California yesterday, the last time they’d talked. Zach had called to ask him to get Mom and Dad, and leave Baltimore for the weekend.
So here they were, on this lovely Sunday morning, in Galloway, West Virginia. At their summer cabin in the Appalachians. Just down the road from the ambassador to Israel, Hank Wilford, and his suddenly stunning daughter.
Elizabeth.
***
A strong rap sounded on her door. Vice President Alana Mills yawned as she walked across the plush ivory carpet and opened it. In the hallway, a steward in military uniform held a silver breakfast tray. She moved aside so he could enter her cramped temporary quarters.
“Just set it on the little table there.”
He moved efficiently into her room, set the tray on the table and returned to the doorway.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No. Thank you.” She had a fleeting thought about tipping him, which was a ridiculous vestige of her days in private life.
The steward turned to go, and Alana nodded at the Secret Service agent who guarded her door. This layer of security seemed silly, given that they were currently in a bunker under the East Wing of the White House. Designed to withstand a nuclear attack, the Presidential Emergency Operations Center was about as secure as anywhere in the world. And she was resting in a wing off of it. What’d she need Secret Service for down here?
Protection from the breakfast steward?
Whatever.
She closed her door, turned to the tray and whisked off the shiny cover. Black tea steamed from a delicate teacup. A veggie omelet with a side of gourmet potatoes made her mouth water. Sitting down, she lifted the fork and dug in. Hadn’t realized how hungry she was… after eating so little yesterday, then being up all night working, she found herself famished.
And tired. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon!
She’d managed several hours of sleep after presenting her team’s ideas to the president this morning.
Basilia Hernandez had swiftly chosen the one originally suggested by Governor Abdullah – may he rest in peace – if he’d died in the fires last night, and it seemed inevitable that he would, given the situation at the time of his last phone call to the president.
It was so ironic that he’d be killed in the terrorist attack that his own son had instigated. Weird karma? And what about his son? Had he lived or died? The last she’d heard of Nadir, he was on foot, running from the fires.
It didn’t really matter now. If he was dead, good. If he was alive, he’d never be prosecuted for his crimes. The president had already selected a fall guy to blame for burning down the state: Zachary James Nelson, a big-time religious and political blogger who’d organized a cadre of church volunteers for California’s annual Coastal Cleanup Day.
Nelson, also a worship pastor, was the perfect patsy, actually – he’d placed hundreds of people all along the coast on the morning the coastal fires started. With a little manipulation of the facts, it was easy to pin it on him. Governor Abdullah was a genius, even if his only motive was to protect the Muslim community and preserve his own legacy. And to destroy a political enemy, of course.
Alana wolfed another bite of the exquisite omelet. One of the best things about living in the upper echelon of society was the constant availability of world-class food. She had to be careful not to get fat.
As she chewed, her thoughts focused on the hunt for the fall guy. Had he been arrested yet? How in the world would they make the charges stick to him? They’d contrived a good bit of circumstantial evidence, sure – but any decent defense lawyer would inevitably get him off the hook for this.
Since he actually hadn’t done it, after all.
Also, there was the irritating little problem of explaining how Mr. Nelson had set off the second – and far deadlier – line of fires yesterday afternoon. They’d either have to come up with something, or just say that part was still under investigation. Or that he’d sent his arsonists east to light the afternoon fires immediately after they’d lit the morning ones. That would work.
She sipped her tea. Too hot. And needed sugar!
Well, maybe they’d get lucky and he’d get assassinated or something, killed in jail or whatever, and they’d never have to go to trial. Then the country would forever blame him for burning down the state, and never look for the real culprits. Like Lee Harvey Oswald, if he hadn’t really assassinated President John F. Kennedy. There would always be conspiracy theories, but Americans would generally believe what the media and government told them.
In fact, that was actually a great idea! Arrange Zachary Nelson’s untimely death.
Suddenly, she was wide awake and couldn’t wait to get back to the group assembled in the PEOC and whisper her idea in a few ears.
She downed the last bit of omelet, ignoring the fancy potatoes, and hurried into the minuscule bathroom. These bunker accommodations left a lot to be desired. Hopefully, she and her colleagues would be able to get out of here soon, now that the crisis was past, and return to the more commodious environments to which they were all accustomed.
ANTICIPATED RELEASE: JULY 2019
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LETTER TO READERS
Dear new friends,
Thank you for choosing this novel. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, would you do me a favor and write a quick review on Amazon? It will help me as an author, and it will help your fellow readers decide whether this book is for them. Thank you very much!
If you’d like to communicate with me, you can contact me at my website, JamieLeeGrey.com
May God’s face shine upon you and bring you peace.
All the best,
Jamie
DEDICATION
To Jesus.
Looking forward to seeing you!
And to the suffering saints
Around the world…
Your courage
Inspires.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Readers and friends – Thank you for reading, and for your support. You bring me joy.
Special thanks to John Rock and Deb Motley for their feedback, prayers and encouragement.
Candle Sutton – My amazing critique partner, a dear friend and partner in prayer. (Hey, everybody, be sure to check out Candle’s books, and sign up for her insightful monthly newsletter at www.CandleSutton.com .) It’s consistently inspiring!
My husband – You are the best. Thank you for your support of this project, and all my other crazy ideas.
Jesus Christ – My life and breath, my inspiration and the giver of all good gifts. Thank You.
BOOKS BY JAMIE LEE GREY
BAND OF BELIEVERS Series
To save your life, would you sell your soul? During the tribulation, Willow Archer intends to keep both. She just wants to live a simple life in her quiet Montana town. But when sinister forces begin rounding up Christians, she must make a tough choice: accept the mark, or run for her life?
Book 1: Dissent
Book 2: Duplicity
Book 3: Destruction
Book 4: Darkness
HOLY WAR
A Pulitzer-pursuing reporter is thrust into the story of her dreams – and nightmares – when she discovers a plot to attack the Pacific Northwest. After terrorists kidnap Cassandra Hall, she must find a way to free herself and alert the authorities… before Seattle is destroyed.
Holy War
New in 2019:
DAUGHTER OF BABYLON series!
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