Triumph (The Bellator Saga Book 6)

by Cecilia London

  “A Notre Dame lawyer. Double Domer?”

  Standard slang for two or more ND degrees. “Nope. Marquette undergrad.”

  He nodded. Did that mean he approved? The man switched his beer to his left hand, extending his right. “Jesuits are better than nothing. Thomas Sullivan.”

  Caroline shook it. “Caroline Gerard.” Monogram Club meant varsity athlete. Sturdy frame meant contact sport. And his name was familiar, which meant… “You played football.”

  “I did. Good guess.”

  “I watched you play when I was younger.”

  “Much younger, I’d assume.”

  She did the math. “Grade school, maybe?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “You were really good. Why didn’t you go pro?”

  “Messed up my knee during the combine. Didn’t seem worth the hassle. Tortured myself by going to medical school instead.”

  “So, it’s Dr. Sullivan?”

  “Only if you’re a pretentious asshole. It’s Tom.”

  Caroline waved at Nicky from across the room. “That’s my husband. If you ask him nicely he might grab you another beer.”

  Tom pressed the bottle to his lips. “I’m good.” He pointed at Nick when he arrived. “Berghoff. Fine taste, young man.”

  Caroline took the amaretto sour she was offered. “Nicky, this is Tom Sullivan. Played football at Notre Dame. Tom, this is my husband, Nicholas.”

  Nick shook his hand. “Call me Nick. She’s probably been talking your ear off. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

  “Nicky likes beer,” Caroline said. “Especially open bar House freshman mixer free beer.”

  Tom tipped his bottle again. It was almost empty. “Oddly enough, so do I.”

  “He likes hunting too. Didn’t you grow up in Ohio?”

  Nick laughed. “Caroline, don’t scare the man.”

  Tom patted her shoulder. “It’s fine. Not creepy at all.”

  “I don’t, like, stalk people or anything. I just remember weird stuff.”

  He smiled. “I told you. Not a big deal. Yes, I am originally from Ohio and Nick, in case you were wondering, I also enjoy shooting things and eating them later.”

  “And drinking beer with said consumption of animals?” Nick asked.

  “Indeed.”

  Nick nudged Caroline. “I like this guy. Tom, you want another beer?”

  Tom handed him his empty bottle. “Why not? Surprise me.”

  “You can get me another drink,” Caroline said. “I’ll knock it back.”

  “Careful,” Nick said. “You may have to drive.”

  Not likely. She was a cheap date, already feeling the buzz. “Gimme my booze.”

  He turned toward the bar, walking past a blond woman with a sour expression on her face.

  “Christine,” Tom said. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

  “I was speaking with a few new colleagues,” she said crisply. She turned to Caroline. “Who might you be?”

  It took Caroline a minute to remember her own name. Brusqueness always threw her off. “Caroline Gerard,” she said. “Maryland. We live just up the road in Rockville. I don’t remember seeing you at any other events.”

  “My wife likes to hide,” Tom said.

  “I do not. I’ve merely been keeping to myself.”

  “She’s shy,” he insisted.

  That wasn’t the word Caroline would have used. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

  The scowl that greeted her indicated the feeling wasn’t mutual. “You’re a Democrat, I assume?” Christine asked.

  “True blue. Not that the party approves of me. I beat a longtime incumbent in the primary.”

  “Shit,” Tom said. “She defeated Goyer. He was in that seat for what…twenty years?”

  Caroline knew she’d been lucky as hell to win. “Twenty-four.”

  Christine gave her an appraising look. “Impressive.”

  Caroline glanced around the room, looking for Nicky. She saw Christine loop her arm through Tom’s out of the corner of her eye. Damn. Did that woman think she’d been trying to pick up her husband? Did she not see the ring on Caroline’s finger? She did not want to deal with that kind of bullshit. She was friends with men. Good friends with men. And never once did she think about fucking them. Okay, maybe once in a while, but that was a totally normal heterosexual female response. Right?

  Nick marched up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder. “Another sour, my dear.”

  Caroline took a sip. “Whiskey? Really?”

  “You said to surprise you.”

  “Tom said to surprise him.”

  Nick handed some obscure microbrew to the other man. “Oh, right.”

  Her husband could smooth the bumps in the road. He always did. “Nicky, this is Christine Sullivan,” she said. “From – uh, I guess I never asked where you were from.”

  Christine glanced at her nails. Were they boring her? “Bryn Mawr. Outside Philadelphia.”

  Nick cocked his finger like a gun. “Gotta be Republicans.”

  Tom laughed. “Obviously.”

  “I don’t know,” Nick said, his voice sober. “Are we allowed to be friends with Republicans, Caroline?”

  They needed to take their show on the road. “Of course. Christine, did you go to Notre Dame too?”

  “Caroline’s a bit obsessed with the Irish,” Tom said. “Claims she’s a lawyer.”

  “I did not,” Christine said. “I went to the University of Michigan.”

  Being a lawyer and Notre Dame grad was clearly not enough to get on Christine’s good side. “Oh,” Caroline said. “That must have made for an awkward first date.”

  “We were in medical school,” Christine said. “I told him the cadavers had more life than the Irish offense.”

  Cold and aloof with a hint of sardonic humor. Caroline could dig that. Based on Nick’s stiffening posture, he did not. He took another sip of his beer. “You want to mingle some more?” he asked.

  Caroline tapped her finger against her cheek. “I’ll stay here for a bit. You want to work the crowd?”

  Nick sure as hell wouldn’t want to schmooze politicos alone. He hated that shit. “No.” He turned to Tom. “Tell me more about hunting in Ohio.”

  *****

  Her husband let out a low whistle once they reached their car.

  “What?” Caroline asked.

  “She was stone cold, wasn’t she?”

  Caroline decided to play dumb. Poor Nicky. He’d slogged through twenty minutes of small talk while she nursed her drink. On purpose. While trying to pull answers out of Christine. “Who?”

  “That Sullivan woman. Her husband was cool, though.”

  “I liked her.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t you see the way she was glaring at you?”

  “She only did that for a minute. I think she’s kind of possessive of her husband.”

  “Why didn’t you glare back at her?” Nick asked. “You’ve got prime man meat right here. She might have tried to steal me away.”

  “She barely spoke to you. Maybe if you’d talked about something other than beer and Bambi.”

  “Maybe she would have liked you more if you’d talked about something other than football.”

  “I tried to engage her,” Caroline said. “While you and Tom were talking microbrews or some crap.”

  “Yeah, speaking of Tom, could you have made your sports crush a little less obvious? You’re going to look up his stats as soon as you get home, aren’t you?”

  She could mess with her husband. They were usually both in on the joke. “I was going to Google him in the car.”

  “Jeez,” Nick said. “I thought you were going to ask him to flex for you. Gotta stop making it so obvious, hon.”

  “Nicky, he was a great player at Notre Dame. I think he was touched I remembered him. And he’s a really nice guy.”

  “That’s the only r
eason I’m letting you get away with your fawning. Otherwise I’d be concerned.”

  “Was it that obvious?” If Nick had noticed, maybe Christine was as possessive as she assumed. Sometimes Caroline forgot that her default charming and inquisitive behavior could be viewed as intrusive.

  “Yeah, but I know it was purely based on his status as a former Notre Dame athlete, not because you’re going to run away with him.”

  “Hardly,” Caroline said. “You were right. Christine was shooting me a death stare while we were talking, wasn’t she?”

  “She was,” he said. “I think we know who the people person is in that couple.”

  That was too simplistic an analysis. Representative Sullivan had been elected for a reason. There had to be something there. Caroline heard the click of the lock and slid into the passenger seat. “I’m going to ask her to lunch.”

  “Really, Caroline. You’ve met all these outgoing, charming people and you’re going to make your connections with that woman?”

  Again, overly simplistic. She wanted to make her mark but wasn’t about to sacrifice her identity. “Nicky, it’s not about connections. I’m not here to play games. I want to be friends with her.”

  “What is this, grade school? People don’t go to Congress to make friends. They’re more likely to lose them. And she’s a Republican. You don’t agree on anything.”

  Based on the disdainful looks and the disapproving tone? Probably. “Doesn’t matter to me. I like her. I can’t explain it.”

  Nick pursed his lips as he pulled out of the parking garage. “Whatever. Hang out with that senator we met from California. Ellen what’s her face.”

  Poor Nicky. He didn’t want her to get hurt. He hadn’t enjoyed the nastiness of the campaign and knew it would only get worse. But she could handle it. “Ellen’s too much like me. I don’t need more people like me. I want to be challenged.”

  Nick pulled up to a stoplight. “You are an odd duck sometimes.”

  Caroline leaned over to kiss him. “That’s why you love me.”

  “Just be careful. You don’t know who you can trust in that place.”

  “I think I can trust her.” She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  “Anything for you,” he said. “And if you have to make nice with her, at least make her husband tag along too. Tell him to bring beer.”

  *****

  The beginning of lunch could not have been more awkward. Caroline and Christine placed their orders, saying very little to each other, the tension palpable. The waiter took their menus and returned with their drinks. Finally Christine spoke.

  “Your chief of staff made it sound like this was a group thing.”

  The truth was bound to come out sometime. “She lied.”

  Christine carefully placed her napkin on her lap. “That’s why she called instead of you?”

  “Yes,” Caroline said. “I am a terrible liar.”

  “She did your dirty work.”

  “That’s what staffers are for.”

  Christine folded her hands. “Have you been here before?”

  Her lunch companion wanted to move on to simple, bland topics. Hopefully she didn’t think Caroline was completely unethical. “Jen recommended it,” she said. “I don’t know my way around the city just yet.”

  “Don’t you represent the Maryland suburbs?”

  Christine had been listening during the mixer, despite her efforts to pretend otherwise. “I see you were paying attention,” Caroline said.

  “I wanted to know what I was getting into.”

  The ice queen was melting. Her tone was a little too defensive. “I never worked in DC before now,” Caroline said. “Nicky works close to our house, but occasionally has to go to Baltimore or northern Virginia for meetings and such. He hates the traffic around here. So do I.”

  “You drive in every day?”

  If Christine really wanted to know about the commute, they’d be there all afternoon. “I might start taking the train. Maybe. Makes it harder to be flexible. What about you?”

  “I have an apartment near the Capitol. And a driver.”

  Bryn Mawr. Two doctors. Made sense. “Oh. That’s nice.”

  “It’s not unusual.”

  Had she sounded jealous? “I wasn’t criticizing,” Caroline said quickly. “It was a benign observation.”

  “I see.”

  Maybe Christine didn’t like talking about money either. “How’s Tom? Nicky really liked him. He’s convinced they’re like, beer soulmates or something.”

  “I could tell. All that talk of microbrews and football.” Christine shook her head. “Men. I’m surprised they didn’t start high fiving in the middle of the room.”

  Caroline grinned. “I love sports. Do you follow any teams?”

  “I went to Michigan for undergrad.”

  She must have forgotten that she’d mentioned her alma mater during the mixer. Caroline decided to have a little fun. “I’m so very sorry.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Notre Dame. Michigan. You know. Rivalry and all. You voluntarily married a Notre Dame man?”

  Christine shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”

  “Are you big on the Wolverines?”

  “Mostly football. A little hockey. I don’t much care for sports.”

  Did this woman like anything? “No Tigers or Red Wings? Phillies or Flyers?”

  Christine made a face. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Do you throw like a girl?”

  Christine looked at her as if she were very strange. “I play tennis. That’s about it.”

  A connection at last. “So do I. I played in high school. Do you have a racquet here?”

  “No.”

  “You can borrow one of mine. We have courts in our neighborhood if you’d like to rally or something.”

  Christine stirred her straw in her tea glass. “Yes, because members of Congress have so much free time.”

  Ooh, a joke. She made a joke. “I get the feeling they don’t do much around here,” Caroline said. “This may actually be less stressful than my old job.”

  “Which was?”

  “Federal prosecutor.”

  “Oh.” Christine gazed at her thoughtfully. “Would have assumed public defender.”

  “My heart doesn’t bleed that much.”

  “I see.”

  “I like to be unpredictable.”

  “Like having your aides mislead your colleagues?”

  She seemed really hung up on that. Why? Caroline decided to switch gears. “Are you from Michigan originally?”

  Christine eyed her warily. “I grew up in Flint.”

  Representative Sullivan had to be about ten years older than Caroline, which put her adolescence and early adulthood smack in the middle of the deindustrialization of the American automotive industry. “Oh. That must have been…hard.”

  “It was.” Her tone made it clear that was all she was volunteering.

  “And you met Tom in medical school?”

  “Yes. At Penn.”

  An elite public land grant university coupled with an Ivy League graduate program. Christine Sullivan may have been aloof, perhaps even standoffish, but she was not unintelligent. “What kind of medicine did you practice when you were a real person?” Caroline asked.

  “Real person?”

  Christine found her terminology peculiar. Far from the first time Caroline had received that response. “I don’t think Congress has very many real people, do you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Are you going to answer all my questions so tersely?”

  Christine actually smiled. Very slightly. “Maybe.”

  Caroline wasn’t going to get anywhere with this chick if she couldn’t get her to relax. “You know, you might enjoy yourself more if you lightened up a little.”

  Now Christine looked offended. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re really reserved. You should be enjoying this. You’
ve got this great opportunity in Washington and you should make the most of it.”

  “Is that a tactful way of telling me that I’m a bitch?”

  Yes. “I don’t know,” Caroline said. “Are you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “You don’t answer questions and you’re pretty reserved so I would say most people would think you are.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I like you. Even if you have shitty taste in schools.”

  Christine stared at her tea again, and Caroline wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “I was in family medicine,” Christine finally said. “Nothing too glamorous.”

  “But it’s necessary. Hardly anyone goes for that anymore. Not enough money.”

  “Thomas is a surgeon. Took a little financial pressure off.”

  “If I ask you for medical advice, will you give it to me?”

  “No.”

  Based on her clipped tone, she must have gotten that question a lot. “Oh. Okay.”

  “Are you going to conduct this entire lunch like it’s a job interview?” Christine asked.

  “Seems to be working so far.”

  “I haven’t been able to ask you anything.”

  “You hadn’t said more than two words until a few minutes ago.” Caroline smiled again. “You can ask me whatever you want. I’m not all that remarkable.”

  “You talk a lot.”

  “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

  “I’m willing to bet you have a lot to say about yourself, given the opportunity.”

  Caroline Gerard wasn’t the quiet type, no. “Okay, then. Ask away.”

  “Why did you ask me to lunch?”

  Damn. She didn’t waste any time. “Oh, wow. That was blunt.”

  “I don’t mince words,” Christine said.

  Indeed she didn’t. “Technically, I didn’t ask you to lunch. Jen did.”

  Christine rolled her eyes. “Lawyers. You know what I mean.”

  “You don’t trust many people, do you?”

  Her lips turned up slightly. “You’re pretty direct yourself.”

  “I am a consummate diplomat who believes in complete honesty.”

  “Are you a naturally trusting person?”

  Trusting. Naïve. Altogether harmless, in her not so humble opinion. “Yes,” Caroline said. “Sometimes too much. Made being a prosecutor tough. I got burned more than a few times.”