Chief

by Lesli Richardson

  Admittedly, being able to hold on to Owen was another reason I left my cane at home.

  I’m a bastard—so sue me.

  “You okay?” I softly ask once we’re about a house away.

  “Yeah. Thank you.” He doesn’t sound okay. He sounds anything but okay.

  “It’s all right.” It’s not, but it’s as all right as I can make it for him tonight.

  He leads me over to the passenger side and opens the door for me, helping me in. I lean over and start the car for him as he rounds the front and slides behind the wheel.

  “Stop just outside the development,” I order with more than a little command and control tone.

  Dom tone.

  I’ve never used it on him quite like this before, and hope he doesn’t rebel.

  He doesn’t. “Yes, sir.” His quiet tone rips at my soul. My poor boy is miserable right now, and I feel helpless.

  I hate feeling like this. I want to do, to fix.

  Until he’s officially mine, though, all I can do is be a friend.

  He doesn’t start crying until after we’ve swapped places and I’m behind the wheel. Tonight I settle for patting him on the thigh and letting him cry it out. It’s stress, it’s a lifetime of toxic patterns, it’s fear—and right now, it’s probably mostly relief.

  He’s out, he’s free, and he’s relatively unscathed, for tonight.

  We’re almost to Lakeland on I-4 before he speaks. “Thank you.”

  “Little bro, I’ve got your six. You don’t even need to ask. This is a given. This is what family does for each other.”

  I know it’s playing dirty, but I want him to see me like that. I want that familiarity. I want his defenses completely down around me.

  I need to see him without filters and protective walls.

  I can give him everything he needs, but first and foremost, he needs to trust me. That’s the only way this will work. He can love me or hate me, that I don’t care about.

  I need him to trust me. The rest will fall into place.

  I stop for gas in Plant City. When I finish filling the tank, I find him staring out the windshield at the darkness.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” I say.

  “I can’t believe we got out of there so easily. I honestly think she liked you.”

  “Well, we’ll have to come up with another excuse for the next time, to get us out of there early,” I fib.

  That makes him turn. “Next time?”

  “Yeah. Next time she summons you. You don’t think I’m letting you go back there alone, do you?”

  Right now, he doesn’t need to know that I’m not ever letting him go back there.

  He stares at me, those beautiful green eyes looking dark and wounded in this light, just a hair too bright, the tears threatening to reappear.

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  “Hey, no man left behind. I mean that.” I grin. “Maybe next time we will let Susa come with us. Would’ve been a hoot watching her playing with some of those snooty stuffed shirts who thought they were big-shots.”

  He finally laughs. “I was thinking that, too.”

  “I’m going to need your mom’s number, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to text her another apology.”

  “Um, why?”

  I shrug. “We set it up so that she feels socially obligated to invite your roommate to future events.” In reality, I want to stroke her ego and pull her attention from Owen. I don’t need her forcing my hand too soon.

  “Sonofabitch, I think that would actually work on her.”

  “Of course it will. Narcissists love to think they’re so unpredictable, when the truth is, you can practically set a clock by them.”

  It’s after ten when we return to the dorm. While Owen’s in the bathroom, I text Susa.

  Home. Awake?

  She must have been waiting for my text, because she replies almost immediately.

  Yes, Sir.

  I tap out my reply. I have a plan, but I need her to go along with it.

  She’s a cunt, worse than I thought, but I know what we need to do now. I’ll give you details tmrw night. You still going to Tllhsee on Owen’s bd wknd?

  I need Owen hooked deep in her heart for this to work. I know she’s attracted to him, even if she wants me more.

  My plan leaves no one behind. Now, having met his mother, I see the clearest way though that wilderness so we all can get what we want and need.

  Yes, Sir. Why?

  I want the house for the wknd. I have a plan, but need privacy and 2 nights w/him.

  I see the bubble as she’s typing her reply.

  Then you can use the house.

  I smile to myself.

  :) Good girl. Tnk you. Sleep tight. See you tmrw.

  The use of the emoji was calculated. Just as I’ve been carefully testing around the edges of Owen’s psyche, so I have with Susa, too. It’s a little easier to do with her, though, considering the circumstances, so I do it far more blatantly.

  Yes, Sir.

  I smile to myself. Bingo.

  A few minutes later, after Owen’s returned from the bathroom and settled in bed, he’s so exhausted from stress that I hear him fall asleep almost immediately.

  That leaves me lying there in my bed and replaying the evening in my head. Owen’s not a complicated guy. He likes to serve, he likes to take care of people, and he’s starved for positive reinforcement and love.

  He’s starved for basic human touch. He’s got skin hunger.

  I plan to give him all of what he needs, and more.

  Much more.

  In my own way, of course.

  I wouldn’t be a bastard if I didn’t add that caveat.

  Chapter Six

  Now

  I finally get Owen out of bed—which, admittedly isn’t a place I want to leave, either—and we head for the shower. Susa’s going to shower in the other bathroom, one of the benefits of getting a suite.

  Owen eyes me as he soaps up the washcloth. “I want it understood, Sir, that I’m not happy about this.”

  He doesn’t need to clarify what he means. I also know from the way he emphasized Sir that it’s only my relationship with him that’s making him obey me on this one.

  He doesn’t dare say no to me about a direct order, because he’s my very good boy and always has been.

  “But think about how epic it’ll be when he realizes how we ratfucked him!” I counter. “If we simply cut him out of interviews today, he’ll attribute it to our rightful grudge against him and his network. Not only do we ratfuck him, but we get his hopes up that we’ve moved on from four years ago.” I grin. “This way, he’ll know without a doubt how we feel, and I’m going to be wearing a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat later when we have the sit-down with him.”

  He blows out a long breath and grumbles as I turn so he can scrub my back. This is another cherished ritual we have from the early days, a way to connect with each other even when we don’t have time to “play.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you’re a good boy for me today,” I only partly tease, “I’ll let you fuck my ass tonight. But only if you don’t gripe about Kevin Markos all day.”

  I’m not expecting it when his arm wraps around my upper body and pulls me tightly against his taller frame. Owen is six-four to my five-ten.

  Pleasure ripples through me at the feel of his breath in my ear. “You sure you want to do that, Sir?”

  I bask in the feeling for a moment before I spin and easily pin him against the shower wall with my left forearm across his throat. But the triumphant gaze he pins me with tells the truth—he knows he had me for the briefest of moments. My boy is definitely not a Top, but every once in a while he enjoys it when I let him get frisky with me like that.

  He reaches up, an ingrained response now, and his fingers close around my arm.

  I lean in and suck on his lower lip, nipping it. “Kinda ballsy boy this morning, aren�
��t you? Don’t think I won’t send you out for your sit-downs with a vibrating butt plug up your ass and the controller in my pocket.”

  His nostrils flare as his eyes widen.

  He knows I’ll do it, too.

  Part of him dreads that thought.

  Part of him craves it.

  I smile as I take pity on him and start stroking his cock without making him beg for it this morning. “Buuut, I guess, since you were such a good boy and got re-elected last night, I can let the snark slide a little, Governor.”

  He’s already rocking his hips in time with my motions. I honestly didn’t think he’d have a second one in him so quickly this morning, but I’m glad of it. It means he’ll be more settled, relaxed when he’s being interviewed today. A little of our routine added to a day always helps him out. I don’t drag it out, either, because we don’t have the time and we’ve already taken too much. It’ll never be enough with either of them, but it is all that we can steal for ourselves today.

  By the time we finally finish our showers, including shaving each other, Susa’s already done, has her hair blown out and styled, is dressed, and is putting on makeup.

  Owen’s halfway dressed, slacks and a belt but still shirtless, when he drops to his knees in front of her, wraps his arms around her, and presses his face to her tummy.

  I can’t help it—I snap a picture with my personal phone.

  Dammit, something that’s ours.

  Her gaze catches mine as she smiles and strokes his hair, rubbing his scalp in that way he loves.

  I walk over and stand behind him, wrapping my arms around her, too. “I promised him fun tonight if he doesn’t gripe about Kevin Markos all day. But he needs to finish getting dressed.”

  Her face lights up. “Ah, the good boy earned a reward.” She pats the top of his head and he finally, reluctantly stands. “You heard Sir. Get dressed. Now.”

  He smiles as brushes a kiss across her lips before he grabs his undershirt.

  She drops me a wink. “Dray will be here in five.” She holds up fingers and waggles them at me.

  “Yes, dear.”

  She laughs and playfully swats me on the ass, and that makes me laugh.

  Laughter.

  It’s so good to hear it again after those three bleak weeks just a few months ago.

  We were lucky.

  Damned lucky.

  Don’t think I don’t know that.

  It also makes a tiny part of me worry that we used up a lifetime’s worth of luck. Then what will we do in the future when something bad sneaks up on us?

  * * * *

  Kevin Markos must have mainlined a gallon of coffee to look as awake as he does right now. His too-blue eyes are likely contacts, and his blond hair is a shade lighter than Owen’s and laying perfectly. Dray went first to confirm Markos was there and ready before we took the service elevator down, our security detail in tow.

  Our campaign is actually paying for the extra troopers, yesterday and today, and related travel expenses. Just because Owen was re-elected doesn’t mean we can get lazy and sloppy. The only way to get Susa elected is to not fuck up.

  I let Owen go first and stand a couple of steps behind with Susa, holding her hand. Dray stands off to the side, ready to cut in with a time warning in three minutes if I haven’t been able to get Owen moving in two.

  “Governor Taylor, congratulations on your re-election victory last night,” Markos says, his sound guy holding a boom right over their heads as the cameraman stays tight on them. “How does it feel to have secured such a decisive victory?”

  Owen slips his hands in his pockets, looking deceptively casual, but I know it’s more to hide the fact that he’s clenching his fists. “I think it means the voters have once again spoken with a clear mandate. We’re still waiting on final tallies, of course, but it’s looking like we earned even more votes than the last time. I hope that means the voters want me to keep doing what we’ve been doing and working on the initiatives we started in our first term…”

  When Susa pokes me in the ribs, I glance at her and immediately realize my smile had been sliding toward Joker-Poisons-Gotham territory.

  I can’t help it. Imagining how pissed off Markos is going to be when he realizes what we’ve done is just…

  Fucking sweet.

  At one time, the guy was a well-respected and level-headed anchor, leaning fiscally conservative and maybe a little more hawkish than I agree with on nat-sec, but socially a liberal, and a firm believer that “religion” has no place in government. At one time, he probably would have been called a Libertarian, even though he’s supposedly GOP.

  I would have even been tempted to tap him for comms at the state, if he hadn’t completely shredded his integrity working for Full News Broadcasting. Well, that, and I know we can’t afford him. But by working for that network, I know from private conversations with Benchley and others, the man has basically ruined any hope of him ever having a safety net. Some talent can go on to be a campaign advisor, or press secretary, or fill similar roles.

  If Kevin Markos does leave FNB? He’s already made himself a pariah among mainstream media companies and most politicians with an ounce of common sense.

  And I really need to stop thinking right this minute about hoping he gets fired, because Susa’s poking me again.

  I can’t help it. The thought of him getting shit-canned makes me smile.

  Also makes it difficult for me to concentrate on what Owen’s saying.

  I catch Dray’s eye and he holds up one finger—one-minute warning.

  I release Susa’s hand and step behind Owen as our security detail patiently waits. I lay a hand on his arm. “We need to go, Governor.”

  I keep an arm around Owen as I start moving, bringing him with me as I hold my other hand out for Susa to take it, and now we’re walking.

  Markos and his crew scurry along with us, Markos trying to get in as many questions and responses as he can. To the asshole’s credit, he actually asks intelligent, insightful questions that, had he asked those kinds of questions to Owen before the first election, I wouldn’t hate the fucker now.

  Make no mistake—while I resent what his implication was about me that day, it’s the fact that Markos upset and pissed off Owen that makes me hold such a deep, unyielding grudge against him now.

  By the time all four of us—including Dray—are safely in the back of a black Tahoe and on our way to the TV studio, I’m unable to contain my grin.

  Susa starts poking at me with both hands. “You nearly had me laughing. Stop that.”

  My grin widens. “I can’t help it. It’s like two Christmases.”

  Owen sighs. “You realize he’s going to be a fucking prick later, right? During the sit-down?”

  I shrug. “Then it’s obvious he’s retaliating and we win again.”

  I’m still unable to contain my smile later as the three of us are under lights and being interviewed. They’ve put us on a casual set usually used for a syndicated daytime show they also produce. It’s the anchor, Sheila Hooper, on the far right, then Owen to the left in a chair by himself, and then Susa at the end of the couch closest to Owen, and me, with my arm draped around her shoulders.

  “Congratulations on your re-election victory last night, Governor Taylor, Lieutenant-Governor Evans.”

  “Thank you,” Owen says. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” Now he’s smiling, his mood greatly improved by this.

  “I also wanted to thank you again for coming on our morning broadcast.”

  “Well, Tampa is our hometown, really. We miss it, living up in Tallahassee. Don’t get me wrong, we love the people there, it’s a great city. But there’s a reason we have our campaign headquarters here, and always have our election night parties here. This is our home.”

  Sheila knows to throw the next question to Susa. “You miraculously survived a very dramatic ordeal just a few months ago. How are you doing, Ms. Evans?”

  My pet is a master with the media. “I�
��m feeling great, Sheila. I’m ready to spend the next four years in Tallahassee.”

  “Any plans past that you’d like to share with us?”

  “Absolutely. It’s not a secret—I’m going to run for governor at the end of Governor Taylor’s term.”

  “You survived something even experts said is pretty miraculous. Did anything in particular help you hang on while you were waiting for rescue?”

  “I had everything to live for, a family who loves me, a job to do. One I’ve worked my entire life to achieve.”

  Now, Sheila throws to me. I’ve avoided interviews for years, so this is a double coup, for her. “Carter Wilson, you’re Governor Taylor’s chief of staff, in addition to the husband of the state’s lieutenant governor. How does that put extra pressure on you?”

  “Not going to lie, it was…tough after her plane went down. The three of us have been close for twenty-plus years. We are a family. Owen’s my brother in everything but name, and everyone we know will tell you that very same thing. It was every bit as hard on him as it was me. Even harder, because he had to stay here and run the state while I was overseas and alone. It’s a miracle upon a miracle, though.”

  I had warned her I’d feed her an easy lead-in to the million-dollar scoop.

  “How so, Mr. Wilson?”

  I share a planned glance with Susa, who smiles as she nods at me. I refocus on Sheila. “Because we’d like to announce that Susa’s expecting our first child in March, a boy.”

  The entire crew reacts, and whether it’s because they know how fucking big this scoop is, or because they’re genuinely happy for us after what happened, they start cheering. Sheila was Susa’s first sit-down after I finally relented and let Susa speak to the media after her ordeal, so this is two scoops we’ve handed them during our administration.