Chief

by Lesli Richardson

  “Sir, with all due respect, I’m sorry, sir.”

  He stares at me for a long time. “So am I, kid. I thought this would be a perfect solution for both of us.”

  I also hope he dismisses me soon, or I’m going to be hurling all over him and his office.

  He slowly shakes his head. “All right, then. Dismissed.”

  I leave. This time, I manage to not hurl until I’m several buildings down from HQ.

  * * * *

  I don’t tell Eddie about the colonel’s offer. Over the next two weeks, Eddie still visits me several nights a week, and guilt is settling deep inside me. I don’t do anything sexual with him, just hold him, tell him what a good boy he is, tell him I love him, and rub his head.

  I suspect he’s not telling Elsa about these visits.

  I also try not to imagine what she’s doing to him or putting him through without me there to soothe him.

  Also, the more I think back on those “play sessions,” I can see how much she used me against Eddie, in some ways. Left to go do whatever and put me in charge. Or let men—and a few women, but mostly men—use him as little more than a cum-dump and a doormat.

  How she frequently withheld praise from him until after the fact, but never really soothed him.

  That job always fell to me, both during and after, because I took the time to teach him German to be able to connect with him.

  Two weeks to the day I rejected the colonel, I’m shocked and confused when my commander approaches me and pulls me aside to tell me I’ve been promoted to E-5.

  #thatsnothowthisworks

  I’m stunned, confused. I rejected him—why is he promoting me early?

  He shakes my hand. “Apparently, the colonel likes you. Speaks very highly of you.” He smiles, but there’s no hidden knowledge behind it. “Maybe your dad put a bug in his ear. Anyway, you have the points, but you get it early. Colonel pushed it through personally and got it approved. Good thing it happened now, too.” He turns to go.

  A chill washes through my soul. “Sir? Good thing, why?”

  He glances around before answering. “Keep this under your hat, but looks like we’re being deployed in-country in three weeks. FOB Oswald. Afghanistan. Orders should be cut tomorrow.” He laughs and smacks my shoulder. “Welcome to leadership, kid.” I stand there, stunned, as I watch him walk away.

  Motherfucker.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Now

  I’d opted to drive to TIA and leave my car in long-term parking. It’s awaiting me upon my return a little before noon that morning, and I climb behind the wheel with a weary sigh. I didn’t sleep well on the flight back, and I’m exhausted.

  I text Susa’s personal phone that I’m back in Florida, to please hold texts, and to pass that to Owen. That I’ll call tonight once I’ve had some sleep.

  In reality, my first stop after my return to Tampa is Benchley’s house. I’d already texted him my arrival time before boarding my flight in Germany. I text him that I am en route before I leave TIA, and he’s alone when I arrive.

  We retire to his office, where he locks us in. I’m sure Michelle is used to this behavior after forty-plus years of marriage to the man, but it still unsettles me considering what I just went through and all the old memories surrounding it.

  Memories which are now slamming into me and demanding my attention.

  “Handled?” he asks after he sits behind his desk.

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Is what handled?”

  His gaze narrows as he studies me for a long moment. Then he shakes his head and chuckles. “You should have been my son.”

  “You’ll have to settle for son-in-law, despite how you and Michelle wish she’d married Owen. By the way, he told me, back then, about you offering him money for dirt on me. He told me as soon as we were alone.” I slump back in my chair. “There was a time you would’ve killed to have this kind of dirt on me.”

  Benchley smiles. “That was before I found out what a bastard you are. And how good you’d be for SusieJo’s political career.”

  “She hates when you call her that.”

  His smile widens. “I know.”

  Bastards know each other when they meet.

  Despite being alone in the house, he glances around me again to make sure the office door is closed and locked before he opens a desk drawer. He withdraws a bottle of Macallan and two water glasses, pouring us each two fingers.

  He hands one over. “You tell Michelle about this bottle and I’ll neuter you myself.” But he’s smirking as he sits back and swirls his own glass.

  I hold mine up in a toast. “I saw nothing.”

  He holds his up. “Neither did I.” He arches an eyebrow at me. “And I’d better not see anything else in the future. I only gave you that freebie as a courtesy. Anything else crops up, you’re on your own.”

  “You won’t see anything else.” I stare at him. “And this never gets mentioned to anyone. Not to Susa, not to Owen. Just like your little ‘incident’ will continue to remain private between us.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You stopped by to say hello to your father-in-law.”

  We clink glasses before I throw the liquor back and let it linger on my tongue for a long moment before swallowing. It’s smooth, and almost seems a shame not to sip it, but I don’t have the time today. “Let’s ratfuck David Kelley. You said you’ve got some stuff on him.”

  The tip of his head more than the expression he wears belies his confusion. “Why him?”

  “His son is the strongest opponent the Dems have against Susa in the primary. No one else they’ve got in their field can touch her numbers.”

  “Not much of an opponent, even if he wins his primary. I’m not sure he’s worth spending the energy or trouble on.”

  “He is. He’s got the look. We make it appear like David Kelley covered something up for his son, tie the missing girl from his high school class to him through some deep background sources, and get that shit-pot simmering nicely. Even if nothing else comes from that, it’ll shadow his entire campaign. It’ll always be a sub-lede in every profile done on him. Including if he tries again in four years. Let’s do that work now and make sure he’s out of the way. She’ll slaughter anyone else who wins their primary.”

  Benchley sits back in his chair again and smiles. “You’re pure evil Carter.” He motions at me in a sort of salute with his glass. “I love it. Glad you’re on Susa’s side.”

  I salute with my glass. “I take care of mine,” I softly say. “Whenever you need to wonder what my motivations are for anything I do, just remember that fact about me.”

  * * * *

  I wearily pull into the garage at the Brandon house and let the door roll down behind me before I drag myself out of the car and grab my suitcase.

  After a shower and setting an alarm on my phone, I face-plant into a bed I miss far too much to think about right now.

  If I didn’t know how much Susa wants to be governor, I’d pull her out of the race, sell Owen’s house, and the townhouses, and just…

  Be a family.

  This is my dream. Our sons, any other children we might have, my two pets happy and healthy.

  We could all retire, if we wanted to. Susa’s smartly managed our money all these years, and we’re set.

  When I fall asleep, the nightmares start almost immediately, about the day in the desert. I’d started that morning before dawn with Eddie. We bunked together in a tiny room in those shitty, temporary housing units there that were little better than plywood boxes.

  But we could start most mornings before we got dressed with him naked on his knees and stroking himself as he blew me. Then I’d spend a moment standing there, rubbing his head as he held my softening cock in his mouth, and I’d tell him what a good boy he was for me. Always in German, the phrases he now knew well, because I found out hardly anyone in our unit spoke it.

  Less chance of someone catching on.

&nbs
p; It was risky and stupid but we did it. The harder I did it, the more he liked it.

  And the more I liked it.

  We would sometimes sneak in daytime play, too, but that wasn’t very often.

  Nothing like a blowjob under a clear, desert night sky, though.

  When we came under fire, I immediately dropped into a different state of mind—clear, calm, shoving my panic to the side when I saw Eddie go down first, shot in the leg.

  The car always rolls up slower in my nightmares than it did in real life. In my nightmares, I’m not able to throw myself over them in time, and all three of them die.

  In my nightmares, I’m uninjured and left screaming over Eddie, who asks me why I left him behind before he dies.

  I awaken in a cold sweat, the sheets soaked. I sit up and realize I’m trembling, shaking.

  As bad as this nightmare is, it’s preferable to the other ones, the majority of ones that usually hit me.

  The ones where I’m still with Elsa.

  * * * *

  I have a swim, take a shower, shave, and get some food in me in plenty of time to call Owen on FaceTime, where he’s alone in his bedroom at the mansion.

  I smile at him. “How’s my boy?”

  “Good, Sir. Miss you.”

  “Miss you, too, boy.” I was going to drive up in the morning, but I know I won’t sleep tonight, and another idea hits me.

  I keep it to myself.

  “How was your trip, Sir?”

  “Uneventful, fortunately.”

  “Will your friend be okay, Sir?”

  Eddie stops by the hotel before I fly out and we have a drink in the bar downstairs.

  I don’t dare risk asking him up to my room. Fortunately, he doesn’t suggest it, either.

  Before I put him in a cab, I give him a long, strong hug, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the hotel. He smells so familiar, and yet different now.

  It’s been so damn long.

  I still hurt.

  I know he does, too, but this is something I cannot fix for either of us, unfortunately. Not any more than I just did. This ache will always hurt and will never heal.

  It’ll never be enough, but it has to do, because it’s all I can do.

  I kiss the top of his head and whisper to him in German the old words, what a good boy he is, and how much I love and miss him, and how sorry I am that I left him.

  And I tell him one last thing. “I took care of her for you. I told her for you. I told her about us, and that you are mine.”

  I rub the top of his head as his ragged, hitching breath warms my shoulder, the side of my neck, and I pretend I don’t hear him sniffle.

  “Thank you, sir,” he whispers. “Love you, too.” I feel his lips press against the side of my throat, and then he’s gone, into the cab, leaving.

  I stand there with my hands in my pockets and watch his cab take him back to his life.

  I blink and focus on Owen’s green gaze watching me from my phone.

  I sigh. “I hope so. He was better when I left.”

  “Is he one of the three, Sir?”

  I know what he means, but I realize now it has more than one meaning. “Yeah,” I say. “He’s one of the three.”

  After I end the call with him, I pull up Skype on my laptop and talk with Susa and the boys. Dray and Gregory are over, too, playing with them while trying to work on re-election stuff with Susa.

  “I’ll be home tomorrow,” I promise, knowing I made the right choice after all, even though it still hurts with that wound now raw and exposed.

  Susa’s beautiful smile helps. “Love you, Sir.”

  I smile. “Love you, too, pet.”

  * * * *

  It’s just after midnight when I park at the mansion and security lets me in. This is not uncommon. They know I was away on business, we have a state to run, and I’m the governor’s fucking chief of staff.

  They don’t question why I arrive at noon or midnight.

  They don’t fucking question me, period.

  Susa and I have standing unlimited access to the governor.

  Owen startles a little when I slide into bed with him after stripping, then he quickly snuggles against me.

  “Mmm. Is it morning already?”

  I kiss him, inhale, breathe in my boy’s scent, and my aching soul settles a little. “No, middle of the night. Go back to sleep.”

  He rolls over to face me and presses his face against the base of my throat. “Missed you, Sir.”

  I hold him tightly and swear to myself I will never let him go. “Missed you, too, boy. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We make it through the primary. Now it’s four weeks before the general election. I’m in Owen’s office, going over details with him about the last few campaign appearances he’ll make on Susa’s behalf, when Julia’s voice comes over the intercom.

  “Governor Taylor, Senator Samuels is here and wants to know if she can have a few minutes of your time.”

  Our gazes meet and I know the confused frown he wears matches mine. “Senator ShaeLynn Samuels?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did she say what she wants?”

  “To speak with you, sir.”

  This means the senator is probably standing right there, looming over Julia. Owen’s AA does pretty good pushing back against state-level lawmakers and garden-variety assholes.

  United States Senator ShaeLynn Samuels, however, is intimidating even to someone like me who’s survived active combat and lived with Senator Benchley Evans as his father-in-law for over two decades.

  Owen lifts an eyebrow, waiting on me.

  I love this. All of this.

  Our silent communication, the rapport.

  The fact that he’s governor of one of the most highly prized swing states, and yet he still looks to me for permission.

  It still hardens my cock.

  Which I have to adjust in my slacks as I nod and round his desk to take my seat in one of the chairs there. She’s going to have to physically throw me out if she wants to talk to him alone.

  “Go ahead and send her in,” he says.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stands and doesn’t even bother rolling down his sleeves. The office door opens, and Julia ushers the senator in before leaving and closing the door behind her.

  I remember my manners and stand, giving the senator back every ounce of intimidation and then some that she tries to shove down my throat.

  I consider it personal growth that there isn’t even a hint of wanting to drop to my knees in front of her rippling through my soul the way it used to in front of Susa in the early days.

  “Senator Samuels,” Owen says as they shake hands. “This is an unexpected—”

  Interruption, distraction, imposition—

  “—pleasure.”

  That’s my boy, always tactful.

  I shake with her and then retake my seat, silently letting her know that I’m not going anywhere.

  She glances in my direction before apparently deciding it’s not worth trying to get me to leave. She takes the other seat while Owen returns to his.

  “I apologize for dropping in like this, Governor Taylor, but I’m leaving for DC this evening and wanted to do this in person.”

  I’m immediately wary and on-guard. Do this in person is political-speak for I don’t want any kind of paper or video trail that can come back later to haunt me or bite me in the ass.

  Owen leans back in his chair and laces his fingers behind his head, looking deceptively casual. He doesn’t always do well with women like the senator. Too close of a reminder of his mom.

  Too close of a reminder to Susa. He sometimes struggles not to drop into his default mode.

  Another reason I wanted to stay here with him. Both his witness and his strength.

  “Do what, Senator?” he asks.

  Another glance my way. “What I’m about to tell you
is confidential. I would appreciate discretion.”

  “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of Carter,” he tells her.

  “I’m forming an exploratory committee,” she says. “Well, let me correct myself. That’s not exactly fully accurate. I am running for POTUS. Just haven’t officially declared yet.”

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Yeah, I can see her doing that, too. Probably winning. Seems like all the rumors I’ve been hearing lately are correct.

  I take a slow, deep breath and force myself not to react.

  “Congratulations,” Owen says. “But what does that have to do with your visit today?”

  “I wanted to know if you want on the ticket. Give you right of first refusal, so to speak.”

  Owen scowls. “Me?” My boy is adorably clueless sometimes, and I can still see hints of the college kid who was terrified of his own shadow.

  “Yes, you. You’re a long-shot who won by a landslide. Twice. Not counting your other offices.” She glances my way again before focusing on Owen. “You obviously know your ground game. You’re popular. It looks like Ms. Evans is going to win her race. Veep like you would grab a large demographic from a wide variety of areas. Midwest, fiscal conservatives, progressive environmentalists, moderates—and more than a goodly chunk of Democrats. We could do big things.” She smiles. “And eight years later, I’d back your run, of course.”

  “Senator, I’m flattered, truly I am. And you can count on my public support for your campaign. Even stumping for you. Except, for starters, I’m an Independent, not a Democrat. Secondly, once I leave office, I’m done. I’ve achieved all I set out to accomplish. I have no higher aspirations than to go back to practicing law, and being a full-time godfather to Pete and Tom.”

  Dammit. My boy doesn’t often make me cry, but when he hits exactly the right weak spot in me, it threatens to unman me in front of this woman.

  She tips her head and studies him. “You don’t even want to run for the Senate? I figured in two years you’d be asking for my support. I’ve heard rumors you were going to run.”