Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2)

by Lesli Richardson

  I offer him a high-five. “Fanfrickingtastic, Mister Vice President.”

  Throughout May, I continue straddling the line between body man, Sir, campaign advisor, and Leo’s toy.

  Can’t say I mind, either. I’m busier than I’ve ever been in my life, which leaves me little time to contemplate anything not currently on my plate.

  We’re also sifting through VP potentials. Both Leo and I really like Senator Ciro Bardales. He’s forty-three, married with two kids, was a distinguished Navy fighter pilot, has a law degree, and is a first-term US Senator from California. So far, nothing we’ve learned about him is a deal-breaker. Doesn’t hurt he’s handsome, charismatic in a low-key kind of way, gently funny, and not an asshole.

  If he’s our final choice, we feel reasonably certain Bardales won’t have any issues when we tell him that Elliot is gay. His older brother is gay, married, and has two adopted kids, and Bardales is very close to him and his husband.

  Meanwhile, I set up a few dinner “dates” for Elliot with Yasmine Alvarado, the nanny for President Samuels’ children. She signed an NDA, so there’s no worries about her maintaining confidentiality. I don’t know how much she knows about Elliot, Leo, and me, but we trust her. She viciously protects the privacy of the First Family. Some of these “dates” are just opportunities for photogs to catch them sharing a quick meal together on Air Force One when traveling to campaign events, or eating in his office, or something apparently impromptu. We don’t say anything publicly, because she’s not the only person he’s dined with, but it’s enough to keep the rumor mills spinning in the direction we want them focused.

  In late June, Senator Bardales is brought over to the residence to talk with Elliot one Saturday evening after we’ve returned from a day trip full of campaign events. Bardales is young, politically speaking, but he’s smart, he’s dedicated, and he’s a man of honor.

  He signs an NDA before the conversation takes place in the dining room. The more I hear from him, the more I like him. Leo and I sit at the far end of the table while Elliot and Ciro—as they’re now calling each other—sit at the other end and chat on a variety of topics.

  I’ve heard the senator give speeches on the floor before, and I’ve always liked him, even if I don’t know him as well as I do some of the other senators. He’s funny and outgoing and has a wonderful way of playing with crowds, reading them, able to whip them up without resorting to cheap theatrics. It’s a bonus that he’s fluent in Spanish, too.

  They speak for nearly two hours when Elliot finally goes there. “There’s one other thing we need to discuss. For obvious reasons, it must stay private, and you signed an NDA.”

  The senator nods. “Yes, sir?”

  Elliot takes a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ve guessed I brought you here to ask you about running with me. But before I do that, I need to disclose something. I’m gay.” He motions toward Leo, even though his gaze settles on me. “And I’m involved in a long-term relationship with Leo.”

  The senator’s eyes widen as he stares at Leo, then back to Elliot. I force down the sting in my heart over being left out even though I knew this was the plan.

  Has to be the plan.

  That if Elliot felt comfortable with Ciro and decided yes to asking him, then Elliot would tell Ciro about him and Leo.

  I cannot publicly be part of this. Ciro needs plausible deniability.

  Ciro gently chuckles. “I’m honestly surprised, sir,” he says. “I really had no idea.”

  Elliot slowly nods, his focus on his fingers, which now trace the pattern of the woodgrain on the table. “But will it be a problem?”

  Ciro sits back and seems to need a moment. “My brother kept his secret for longer than I wish he had. He was afraid our family wouldn’t support him. Finally, when he met the love of his life, he realized he had to be true to himself. I will completely support you, however you choose to handle this.” Then he extends his hand and they shake.

  “Then I guess I’m asking you if you’d like to run as my VP.”

  The senator grins. “I’d be honored, sir.”

  Leo stands, rounds the table to sit next to Elliot, and takes his hand. “See?” Leo says. “I knew he was the right choice.”

  Another pang twists my heart, though, even as Leo’s gaze meets mine. I know he wishes both of us could claim Elliot, or that Leo could claim the two of us, but that’s not life.

  That’s not reality.

  That would be political suicide.

  After Ciro leaves, Elliot and Leo and I retire for the evening. My men put me in the middle, making love to me. Even though it’s been a couple of weeks since Leo and Elliot have had one of their vicious struggle snuggles, the two of them focus on me, quickly turning my brain off so I can’t think about anything except pleasure.

  I get it.

  I don’t call them out over it, either. I consider it a preview of coming attractions, once Elliot’s out of office.

  A future, uncertain date I can firmly fix in my mind and aspire to reach without losing same said mind.

  Hopefully.

  By the time July rolls around, there’s zero risk of Elliot facing a contested convention. We’ve held off announcing who Elliot’s VP pick is until then, even though Ciro made a few of the pundits’ guesstimate lists. Fortunately, the choice is well-received, both by the convention delegates and by the public at large. Ciro’s popular in his home state and the rest of the nation seems to like him, too.

  The blue voters, that is.

  Even better, as far as we can tell, Ciro has zero connections to The Family. He’s been warned about them by Leo, and knows to keep himself and his wife clear of them.

  Also, to avoid Grace and Stella, should they make overtures.

  Speaking of the Gruesome Twosome…

  Grace and Stella have apparently given up. I haven’t heard anything from either of them in a couple of months.

  Honestly? I’m shocked. I was certain they’d keep trying.

  There’s part of me that’s convinced this isn’t a good thing, because it makes me wonder where the next offensive will crop up. Neither of them are quitters, and they are overdue an attempt.

  Boone finally shakes out on top of the GOP’s slate, which is good news for Elliot. The man is sixty-one, has had two heart attacks, was divorced three times and is currently on wife number four, is a professed “born again” Evangelical, and about as personable as a doorstop. The main reasons he made it through the gauntlet were his ability to raise money, his willingness to spout conservative buzzwords on cue, his supposed religious beliefs, and his dark-money connections.

  Meanwhile, Elliot’s stress is through the roof, even if only Leo and I really see it. With every passing day, and every new poll result that rolls in…it’s starting to look like Elliot will most likely win. Boone can’t even come close to touching Elliot in terms of personality.

  Unfortunately, I’m not sure what that victory will do to my boy in the long run.

  You want to know my biggest fear?

  That I might fail him, and he’ll stumble as a result and blame himself. That it’ll be a failure that haunts him for the rest of his life, when it’s because I missed something, dropped a ball, or misread a situation and gave him bad advice.

  It’s my nightmare, because I wouldn’t just be failing Elliot, I’d also be failing Leo.

  And I don’t know if I can live with myself if that happens.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Late August

  With Elliot’s VP chosen, the convention behind us, the national polls looking damned good in Elliot’s favor, and the campaign going strong coming into September, there’s something else we need to do. An important staff position we have to fill.

  The most important one.

  While Elliot hasn’t officially won yet, we need to have this position filled ASAP so the person can hit the ground running the day after the election results are in and start working on the transition.

  Kevin�
�s already said no to chief of staff. That he would agree to be named acting chief of staff during the transition and for the first hundred days, if forced to, but he would be turning in his resignation effective the morning of day one hundred and one.

  Meaning we need to find a damn chief of staff. Leo and Elliot have designated this task as mine, because besides Elliot, I will be the one working with the chief of staff and need to get along with them, anyway. It’ll be faster if I do the legwork. If I sign off on them, Elliot and Leo know the candidate is worthy.

  Elliot’s former chief of staff had a heart attack and resigned due to his health. His deputy chief of staff stepped in to take up the slack, but he’s already said he doesn’t want the job after the election, because he’s already got a private-sector job lined up for three times the pay once this term is over.

  I can’t blame him.

  Our campaign manager, Ken Windham, has not only flat-out said he doesn’t want that job, he’s not someone Elliot, Leo, or I want in the job, either. He doesn’t have the temperament for it, to work with Elliot long-term like that. Elliot likes him but doesn’t trust him in the ways that matter.

  In the trenches and conducting election warfare? Absolutely.

  But Ken would be a disaster in the rigorously constrained setting of the White House. He barely tolerates me, and I damn sure don’t trust him with our secrets. He is good at running campaigns, though, and that’s what he wants to keep doing.

  Benjamin Cussler, Kev’s deputy chief of staff, is a good man. Unfortunately, he expressed reluctance the first time we approached him about accepting the position. He and his wife have two young sons at home, and Ben doesn’t want to miss more of their childhood because of working at the White House. He won’t mind staying on as deputy chief of staff, for a while, at least, but he’d prefer not to be chief of staff, acting or otherwise.

  He did, however, agree to accept the position, if he has to, and work through at least the end of the first year. Preferably with the goal of us finding someone else and sliding them into the position by that time so there can be a seamless and orderly transition.

  So what do I do when I have no clue what to do?

  I follow Kev’s suggestion and place a call to Florida that Monday night, to bend Benchley Evans’ ear about it.

  The elderly political wizard might be staunchly GOP, but he also puts country ahead of party and has worked with Shae quite a bit. I remember reading a profile about him not long after Shae took office. He was a friend and coworker of her mother’s, and is actually Shae’s godfather. Fortunately, he’s able to chat with me for a while.

  “I’d appreciate any ideas or names you might want to toss our way,” I finish after detailing my dilemma.

  Retired Florida State Senator Benchley Evans is also the father of Florida’s previous governor, Susa Evans, a woman who is every bit as tough in the political arena as her father. The story is that Benchley himself had planned to run for governor before a massive heart attack nearly killed him and his wife forced him to retire from active politics.

  He chuckles. “I know Carter said no to working for Shae when she first asked him. I’m reasonably sure that’s probably still his answer eight years later. He’s having too much fun being a dad and husband with Owen and Susa both out of office now. But let me talk to him and call you back. He’s got his own ear to the ground. If he doesn’t have any options, I’ll talk to some people for you. He might come up with a couple of names who’d be better suited, though. You’ll hear back from him or me by tomorrow, if not sooner.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Senator Evans. I really appreciate it.” He’s told me that I can call him Benchley, but considering our age difference, I prefer the formality and to show my respect.

  “I am a little surprised you’re the one making this call,” he notes. “I’d think Elliot would want to handle the talk himself.”

  I don’t need to tell all our secrets. “I’m simply following Vice President Woodley’s orders. I serve at the pleasure of the vice president, sir.”

  There’s another chuckle. “Sure you do, son. Suuurrre you do.” Like that, he’s gone.

  Leaves me wondering how much he knows about me. Or, should I say, about us.

  Later, it’s nearly eight o’clock in the evening, and Elliot’s still in a NatSec briefing at the White House. The security detail will bring him home as soon as he’s finished there. Leo’s currently staffing him and Shae both so I can handle several tasks in private for Elliot, including this one. I’m at work in the home office at the residence when my personal cell rings from a number I don’t recognize.

  Caller ID says it’s a Florida number.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I answer. “Jordan Walsh.”

  It’s a man. “Mr. Walsh, I believe we’ve met before. Carter Wilson. Benchley asked me to give you a call.”

  Relief fills me as I sit back in my chair and remove my glasses, tossing them onto the desk. “Yes, I believe we did. At the funeral for Mr. Bruunt’s brother and sister-in-law. Thanks for calling me, sir.” I guess this means Benchley has punted the ball to him.

  “Well, I like Shae, and we consider her, Chris, and Kev close friends. Inside the trust box, as it were. If you get my drift?”

  Oh, shit.

  That means he knows about their triad. I know it does.

  “Y-yes,” I say, trying to regain my mental footing. “The trust box.”

  “You signed an NDA with them?”

  I take a breath. “Yes, sir.”

  “That means with this conversation, I’m counting on you to maintain that trust box. I am not someone you want to cross, Jordan.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Wilson.”

  “Call me Carter,” he says. “And the person I’m about to pass information to you about will both respect your trust box, as well as require one of their own from you in return. I don’t know if they’ll say yes to the job offer, but I have permission from them to give you their information and pass along to you that they’re willing and interested to hear you out.”

  Hot damn! I grab a pen and my notepad. “Thank you. It’s greatly appreciated. Of course, I’ll respect their trust.”

  The name he gives me isn’t the last one I would’ve expected to hear but it definitely hadn’t hit my radar as one who would make the top of the list.

  “Your call is awaited,” he says. “I suggest calling immediately after we’re finished. If things don’t work out between you, you can call me back directly, and we’ll talk some more. I have other suggestions, but I honestly believe that’s your solution.”

  Wow. This is…unbelievable. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  He chuckles, and in many ways it sounds every bit as evil as Benchley’s did earlier. “Don’t thank me now. Just consider it a favor in need of repaying, at some to-be-determined future time.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Call from your personal cell. Your call is expected as soon as you and I hang up.”

  “Will do.” I don’t need a map drawn as to why I should do it from my personal cell.

  When I get off the call with him, I immediately place a call to the provided number.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m stunned and sitting there staring at my phone in my hand to prove to myself that just happened. I have an eight o’clock breakfast meeting tomorrow morning at a hotel in Arlington. A room number will be texted to me.

  And I’ve been sworn to secrecy about the meeting.

  I’m not even allowed to tell Elliot or Leo about it yet.

  Except…

  I really think I might have found Elliot’s chief of staff.

  * * * *

  Tuesday morning, I don’t have to lie to Elliot or Leo about what’s going on. I simply tell the truth—early morning, need-to-know meeting, campaign-related. Nothing illegal, obviously, but the person I’m meeting with wants absolute secrecy until they hear me out and give me an answer one way or another. If it’s a no, th
en no one is to even know we talked.

  My stomach’s a knotted mess as I step out of the cab in front of the hotel and head upstairs. I’m in suit and tie this morning but not feeling so much like Elliot’s Sir as I am a very nervous boy. I’ve done some research since our call last night, and this candidate would be perfect, if they want the job.

  They also have a very vicious political reputation, lots of hidden power, and probably could ruin Elliot with a single phone call and zero hard evidence.

  Meaning I must tread very carefully and respectfully.

  I step off the elevator on the top floor and quickly make my way down the hall to the suite, where I knock five minutes early.

  Yes, I learned some things from Leo in my time with him.

  The woman who answers the door quickly scans me before arching an eyebrow. “Jordan Walsh?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her smile takes on a funny little quirk the way Leo’s does. “That’s adorable, but I’m not your ma’am, so please quit shitting bricks and come on in, hon.”

  I step inside. After she shuts and locks the door behind me, she offers her hand. “Casey-Marie Blaine. Alone like this, you may call me Casey.”

  I shake with her. “It’s an honor to meet you, Casey. Thank you so much for talking with me.”

  She shrugs. “Eh, I’ve been getting bored. Our talk last night intrigued me. Carter spoke very highly of you.” She leads me into the suite and has me sign an NDA, which she gives me a copy of.

  Casey-Marie Blaine is a political legend in the Southeast, one of those hidden powers you hear about but never expect to meet in person. She’s a legit kingmaker…or breaker. Rumor has it if you cross her politically, professionally, or personally, you’ll wish your life was Hell, because it’d feel like a vacation compared to what she can do to you.

  While she’s a registered Republican, she’s a RINO. I know she’s worked for candidates of both parties, and she’s personally liberal despite her party affiliation. But in Tennessee, it’s politically expedient to be a member of the GOP regardless of your personal political leanings, although numbers are finally shifting more blue there in recent years.