Half an hour later, the two were locked in a ball-bruising embrace with Griff fucking the hell out of the little gal from Texas. Flags waved, firecrackers exploded, and a great big moan rumbled out of his mouth. When it was over, Griff fell back, breathing heavily. He was barely awake when he looked around and saw the half-dressed woman looking down at him strangely. Somewhere in his psyche, he heard a phone ringing. He stumbled as he rose quickly to answer it, but it stopped. He leaned against the desk. His head felt thick—as if it were stuffed with cotton. Was it something he’d drunk that caused him to feel this way? Surely this wild desire was brought on by—what? His hunger for a woman? That was it.
He couldn’t be blamed. He was too hungry, and she was too damned willing.
“Oh, wow!” Margine cried out. “Just wait ’til I get back to Dallas and tell ’em what happened to me.”
Griff lunged forward. “No! You can’t tell anybody about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because, you little idiot, I’m the president, for god’s sake. If anyone finds out what happened here, they’ll turn it into a sideshow.”
“So what?” she said, her cold lips turning up in a cunning half smile. “I wouldn’t mind seein’ myself on the front page.”
“Think!” he yelled, irritated at her stupidity. “My wife... your job... everything will be put in jeopardy.”
“But I just fucked the goddamned president of the United States—I gotta tell somebody.”
“You just did.”
Both Griff and Margine turned at the voice and saw Lorelei standing in the doorway.
As she looked at Griff, her words passed through the shiny coral beauty of a trembling mouth. “I knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants, you bastard. For your information, this was a friggin’ test. You’ve been hangin’ around me like a lovesick puppy, and I wanted to see if it was real. Well, I learned the ugly truth, didn’t I? You’re the same old Griff Nyle, and you’ll never change.” Her cold eyes slid over to Margine. “Margine, get dressed. You’re goin’ back to Texas.”
“But... why?”
“Why do you think? Because you’re fired off the account.” She looked over at her husband. “And you, Griff, are goin’ back to bein’ a louse... a louse that’ll never know what he missed.”
“But, Lorelei, I... one minute I was talking to her and the next... I don’t know what happened. You have to believe me.”
“What I can’t believe is why I ever loved you. You look like a man, but you’ll never be anything more than a sex-starved adolescent.”
“Lorelei, please. Give me a chance. Something... I don’t know what... came over me... I...”
“It’s called stupidity, Griff, and it’s the same thing that comes over you every time you see a beautiful woman. I wasted a lot of prayers on you, Griff, but no more. Do you know why? Because your hair is red, Griff. Red! And I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole!” She turned and slammed out.
Having his own words thrown back in his face gave him the feeling of being hit in the stomach by a three-hundred-pound linebacker. By telling him his hair was red, she was saying that his womanizing was as ugly to her as her red hair was to him. He reached out with a limp arm. “No, Lorelei, it doesn’t matter anymore. It... it was silly... dumb...”
But it was too late. She was gone.
Margine stood, looking at the two, a smile of smug satisfaction curving her lips. She walked over to Griff and put her arms around him. “It’s okay, sweetie. We don’t need her. It’s just you and me now.”
Griff pushed her away. “Who the hell are you? Get out of my office, and get out now.”
“Sure,” she said, her smirking mouth and wintry eyes reflecting an evil deep down inside. “But remember this. It ain’t over, lover, not by a long shot.”
It ain’t over, lover, not by a long shot.
The dark promise haunted Griff the rest of the day.
* * * *
The Fundraiser—
The meeting hall was much like all the rest. It had an oblong shape with a long loft built in one end opposite the speaker’s platform. The loft was used to store equipment for showing films, slide presentations, or for using a spotlight. From the floor below, the openings appeared to be nothing more than three dark windows above the audience until they were put to use by the technicians.
An immediate hush fell over the buzzing audience as a line of VIPs climbed the steps of the platform and took their places. The audience was filled to capacity not only by guests but by the media, top-line photographers, and struggling freelance reporters, hungry for a juicy story. Even now, they could feel the electricity in the air as the Speaker of the House rose and walked toward the podium. Preparation for this fundraiser had been going on for weeks, invitations sent to the richest and most prestigious people in Washington. They knew that a gathering such as this, where the city’s political fat cats got the opportunity to rub shoulders with the president, was sure to bring out full, lucrative wallets.
Senator Bliss looked on from the sidelines. This was one time he couldn’t help Griff. His presence wasn’t required at the table, so the handsome leader of the country was on his own. He’d been provided with a prepared speech and had gone through hundreds of rehearsals, so surely he could pull it off. Still, knowing Griff’s history, the senator cringed when he thought of what could happen. He turned and looked toward the murmuring audience and watched those who looked expectantly toward the front. He raked his eyes over the beautifully decorated room and saw flags everywhere—and movement, within the darkness of one of the windows. A chill grabbed him just before an erratic flicker turned to a bright light that blazed to life.
Thank god, he thought, letting out a burst of pent-up air. It was just someone working with the spotlight.
In the midst of hand-shaking and friendly greetings, the Speaker of the House at last reached the podium and the evening began. A few more minutes were spent on welcoming a foreign diplomat and his wife to this country, accompanied by a smattering of applause that echoed throughout the hall. The senator saw Lorelei trying to keep from yawning as two very dull and very boring speeches followed, one centering on the country’s economy, along with exhaustive reports and numbers and several dry jokes that got no more than a respectable reaction from the audience. Evan Dahl, the vice president, was then introduced, and with the fiscal year winding down, he expressed his hopes and expectations of next year along with reminders of how many campaign promises had been met, but no mention of those unfulfilled or of the recent scandals.
At last it was time for that one special person everyone had been waiting for. After his introduction, he rose to make his way up to the podium, flashbulbs lighting up the room and cameras clicking incessantly. The audience jumped from their seats, and with their hands in the air, they gave him such a tremendous round of applause that the building almost shook on its foundation.
* * * *
At the same time, the brightness from the giant spot grew so intense, it blinded everyone to the short barrel of a shotgun being slowly extended from the darkness beneath it. The sniper leveled the gun for a moment, and then closed one eye while his steady finger firmly embraced the trigger. With a mental picture of stacks of beautiful money floating through his mind, he slowly formed a fond relationship between his finger and the little strip of metal, stroking it firmly. Seconds passed—pressure increased—his finger and the trigger slowly came together with a kiss, a squeeze, and a bruising embrace.
* * * *
Crack!
A sudden force threw Griff back.
Two more shots rang out, and the vice president and the Speaker of the House were hit as well. With shots blasting everywhere, people began screaming, looking around wildly to see where the shots were coming from as they scattered.
Lorelei saw Griff go down and screamed. She jumped up and quickly ran over to Griff’s bloody, motionless body and pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered around him.
She knelt beside him, yelling, “Griff! Griff!” When she didn’t get a response, she looked around at the wild chaos of people scattering in all directions. “Someone call an ambulance!” She cradled his head in her arms.
“Just calm down, sweetheart,” the senator said as he knelt down beside her. “Help is on the way.”
Lorelei saw Griff’s weak eyes look up at them, and he tried to smile. “I guess somebody out there doesn’t like me.” His smile immediately vanished, and almost as if a sudden darkness had descended over his face, his head turned, and he fell limply into her arms.
Lorelei shook his body desperately as she sobbed, “Griff! Griff!”
“It’s okay, he’s still alive,” her father said.
She watched him feel for Griff’s pulse, then leaned against her father and began crying, not able to sustain her proper image a minute longer. “Oh, Daddy, don’t let him die. Please don’t let him die.”
He put his arm around her and lovingly rubbed her back. “He’ll be okay, darlin’.”
* * * *
After a lengthy, torturous time, the injured people were attended to, put on stretchers, and taken outside. Amid the madhouse of shouting, scattering people running in all directions, Lorelei rode with Griff to the hospital, but Senator Bliss was called to an emergency meeting of the Presidential Succession Board to discuss the situation and decide who to install as temporary leader. After rushing around and gathering up his things, he made his way through the frantic crowds, hearing the reporters who stood before live cameras giving play-by-play accounts of the tragedy only moments after it happened.
ABC
Ladies and gentlemen, the president has been shot. Reports from all over the city are swarming the news rooms...
NBC
Attention, America. The president has been shot. A man...
CBS
The man that America loves has been shot. During a...
CNN
A man in battle dress attire was seen running from the building right after the shooting. A thorough search revealed that he was hiding behind the spotlight in the loft. The guard who let him pass is the only person found who might possibly identify him, and will be taken in for questioning. It is a night that will no doubt go down in history. Because of a sniper’s bullet, a great man may be dead.
The senator slammed into his car, and after a long drive through the dark city streets, he arrived at Capitol Hill, the official seat of the government. He bumped up into the drive and stopped at the long arm and waited for access to the parking area. The guard examined both his ID and specialized license plate before he gave him access.
He climbed up hundreds of steps, it seemed, and then entered the sprawling building, showing his ID before he passed through a magnometer. The dimly lit rotunda was almost empty, his hurrying footsteps echoing mysteriously through the empty space until he arrived at the Senate Conference Room. With a swipe of his magnetic card, he made his way in, poured himself a stiff cup of coffee, greeted and shook hands with his colleagues, and then took his place at the table. In only minutes the Chairman pounded his gavel, bringing the meeting to order. With a shuffle of papers and the scraping of chairs, the Presidential Succession Board was in session. The question on the table was who would temporarily succeed the president until he was able to return to office? The Chairman explained that with the vice president and Speaker of the House down, it brought them into an area they had never explored before. A list of names was passed out, and the discussion began. Some names were marked off, along with the reasons why they couldn’t serve.
The senator listened, nodded, and followed their comments with comments of his own, but with a jaundiced eye on each of them. As he looked at one and then the other, he was not only remembering names, dates and dirty obscene acts of debauchery, but illegal monies that were picked from the nation’s pockets to pay for everything from gambling debts to a bunch of little whores for a weekend of wild sex parties. With the things the senator knew about this bunch, he could write his own ticket, and make history in the process. But the time wasn’t now, so he quietly listened to the comments being tossed across the table as he continued to plan each man’s possible downfall. The meeting moved along in a normal fashion until it came time for the actual voting to take place.
“I see no reason to go into anything lengthy. I think we’re all agreed here. I’ll contact Sid Lacey—”
“No,” the senator said, speaking softly.
“I like Stan Carruthers,” came a different voice.
“Stan’s all right, but we agreed—”
“No!” the senator said louder.
“Well... what about Eli Grant? He’s a good man.”
“No,” the senator persisted.
Names were tossed from every direction. “Jordan Call? Mic Mason?”
“No, no, no!” the senator shouted.
“Orval,” the Chairman said. “You’re blackballing everyone we suggest. These are good men, and they’re available. Why the hell are you being so stubborn?”
“I want Lorelei. Who better than the wife—”
“Lorelei?” the man said, jumping to his feet and looking at the senator as if he’d lost his mind. “My god, Orval, you’re being ridiculous.”
The senator rose and looked at him eye to eye. “Why not?”
“Why not? You mean you don’t know? First of all, she’s not on the list of presidential successors, and even if she was, she’s a woman. Orval, you know as well as I that it just isn’t done.”
“Wouldn’t it be against the law?” someone asked.
“Not any that I know of,” the senator spat out. “Besides, after the vice president and the Speaker of the House, you can pretty much choose who you want.”
“From the list, Senator, from the friggin’ list.”
The meeting ran into the wee hours of the morning. Objections flew, and voices rose in anger. Many brought up good points, but the idea of Lorelei in the White House was like a siren song the senator couldn’t resist. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t on the presidential succession list, or that she was a—god, a woman. It only mattered that this was an opportunity he couldn’t let slip away. Sudden guilt grabbed him when he thought of Griff being carried out on a stretcher. As bad as he felt for him, he couldn’t help being almost glad it had happened. My god, what kind of man was he? Glad to see his son-in-law almost killed just so his daughter could have the opportunity he’d always wanted for her.
“Senator,” the man with the gavel said, interrupting his thoughts. “Lorelei is a wonderful, sweet woman, but as president she’s—”
“She’s more qualified than any I see on this list, and if you were honest, you’d agree.”
“Senator, she’s a woman.”
“What does having breasts have to do with anything!” He tapped lightly on his head. “It’s what’s up here that counts.”
“The answer is no, Senator. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.” He looked around at the others. “Is everyone with me on this? Do we let Lorelei serve as president, or do we find someone else?”
The negative mumble that came from the crowd filled the senator with fury. He grabbed the gavel, banged it down on the table to hush the voices, and then shoved the Chairman aside and took over the meeting. “It is, huh?” He glared at the guilty faces that surrounded the table. “Everyone here owes me favors, and I’m callin’ ’em in right now. I’ve done things for you that would’ve ruined me, but I did them gladly.”
“But Orval, we’ll be a laughing stock—”
“A laughing stock? How funny would it be to see each and every one of you selling newspapers on the corner by this time tomorrow?” He leaned forward, looking each one directly in the eyes. “You fuckin’ know I can do it.”
Each man’s guilty gaze darted, cut and slid around the room, but not one met the eyes of the other.
“Look gentlemen, I don’t mean to be unreasonable, I know I’m asking a lot.” He pointed his
cigar in their faces. “You do this for me, and I might be willing to sweeten the deal with a few dollars.”
The group of men deflated like a busted balloon.
The senator smiled, knowing he had just uttered the magic word—money. Hell, hadn’t he been buying off politicians for years? From the day he’d entered politics, he had made a point to collect all the interesting information he could about his colleagues for such a day as this. After all this time, he was well armed for battle. He knew how to talk to them, he knew the way they thought, he knew their lingo, but best of all—he knew their secrets. So far, this was the biggest battle he’d had to fight, and even with the threats he’d made, they’d only buckled under when money was mentioned. That brought to mind the most important lesson Orval had ever learned—the portrait of a politician is painted with thousand dollar bills.
Chapter Eight
Griff’s stay in the hospital seemed endless, but Lorelei stayed with him day in and day out until the doctor took her aside and explained that he was going to have two patients on his hands if she didn’t go home and get some rest. After arguing with the doctor, she left reluctantly. She’d been rattling around the private residence for days, before she received a call from her father inviting himself for dinner.
“I have to talk to you. It’s very important.”
“Sure, Daddy. You want to stay here, or go out?”
“It might be better if we eat in. I don’t know how you’re going to take the news I have for you.”
The Sweet Thief Page 6
