That’s what made him a damned good spy.
I sense an emotional apathy slowly engulfing my soul. Sometimes, Shae sends me out with Elliot for the day. When she does, either Kev or Chris accompanies her if she has an appearance in town.
I don’t know if that’s at Chris’ suggestion, or she can tell how unhappy I am.
In some ways, that makes things worse because I don’t know how to bridge the ever-widening gap between myself and Elliot. Or how to defuse my anger and grief, which feels like a toxic glacier slowly carving its way through my soul.
In fact, over the past couple of months, and with Kev’s help, I’ve sent Elliot out to dinner a few times with Yasmine, Chris and Shae’s nanny. They’re just friends but it helps muddy the waters a little and puts Elliot off-balance enough emotionally that I know he won’t have the focus to try to pin me down in private about Jordan.
I’m the one holding him at arm’s length now, and I know it.
One day, I’m over on the Hill and waiting for Elliot to finish his schedule in the Senate, and I get to talking with the minority whip’s chief of staff in the cloakroom.
Something that makes me good at my job is the ability to pick up stray bits of info from various sources, fit them into their proper context, and put them to good use.
Today, one of those stray bits of info is about several meetings Elliot’s sister has attended as of late, frequently with a particular congresswoman from Nebraska, over at a certain townhouse on C Street.
That factoid intrigues me, because the guy I’m talking to seems to think that not only does Elliot know all about those meetings but that Elliot’s on board with whatever it is, exactly, they’re doing.
Shadowy kind of stuff.
Now, I know damn well neither of those points are true.
Yet I play along, as you do. Because the way this guy thinks it’s playing out is that Elliot has sent his sister as his surrogate to make some deals ahead of him declaring, trying to secure endorsements for him.
Interesting.
When that guy ends up being called back to the office, I make my way over to a woman on the staff of a junior senator from Nevada, and I start chatting her up. She’s a flirt and not very bright. Rumor has it the senator hired her more for who her father is—a bigwig in the casino industry—and how well she sucks the senator’s cock.
Because they’re definitely sleeping together.
I’m reasonably sure the senator’s wife doesn’t know that, either.
The staffer doesn’t know I’m gay, or maybe she doesn’t care. Within five minutes, without even realizing she’s done it, she’s confirmed her senator’s schedule and all but told me he’s part of whatever fuckery’s going on.
Whether the senator realizes he’s part of something or not remains to be seen. The guy’s not very bright, either, but he comes from money and metaphorically sucked cock to earn himself major big-money endorsements in his state.
I don’t like how many connections there are in this web, either. Connections which all converge upon one Congresswoman Grace Martin.
Stella Woodley’s best friend.
By the time Elliot’s finished and is ready to return to the White House, I’ve put together an interesting outline of Stella’s and Grace’s latest sketchy activities.
It’s something I’ll need to look at more closely than just keeping tabs on them, and maybe even start throwing some monkey wrenches into the works.
Or carefully timed metaphorical hand-grenades.
I can definitely use the damned distraction.
Kev has introduced me to countless helpful contacts over the years. Once I have Elliot fed and buttoned up in his office for the afternoon, and I’ve checked that Shae doesn’t need me, I head over to Kev’s office.
An hour later, I’m stepping out of a cab in Arlington and meeting with someone who might be able to provide me with a few answers.
Kev’s a big-picture kind of guy. He doesn’t have a few plates spinning in the air—he’s got dozens. Hundreds, maybe. This kind of thing is beneath him but it’s definitely in my wheelhouse.
Especially since I’ll report back to him what I learn.
Since I work for the president of the United States, one of my vital roles is helping shield her from certain things the way I shield my pet from certain things.
Sometimes, those are the same things.
Short of national emergencies, presidents can’t duck certain events without raising eyebrows. Like the National Prayer Breakfast.
One thing Kev and I have diligently done throughout Shae’s two terms is never leave her alone with anyone who’s not staff or a cabinet member, unless it’s a NatSec issue. No private meetings with any kind of world leaders or ambassadors—especially since I can translate for some of them—and definitely no private meetings with religious leaders.
Or private meetings brokered by religious leaders.
There’s a lot of shady sausage-making that happens in DC, and there’s a particularly shady flavor of it enacted by a certain religious network—not meaning the media kind of network, although there are a few of those also wrapped up in this particular web.
A web that’s long tried sneaky ways to make inroads into Shae’s administration.
And have tried to make inroads with Elliot. Especially now that the time for him to declare his own candidacy is rapidly approaching.
Daniel Jason Walker-Davis is married to Senator Liam Davis, (D) Massachusetts, and is the chief of staff for Congressman Marlowe Effings, (D) Massachusetts. We meet in the same hotel where Shae and Elliot met years ago to discuss Elliot joining the ticket.
This time, we’re in a suite that Congressman Effings’ re-election campaign is paying for. On the same floor as the suite Elliot and Shae met in, but a different suite, thankfully.
We’re also alone. They’re having some meetings tonight, so it wasn’t rented just for our meeting. That was a happy coincidence.
Daniel greets me with a smile and a firm handshake. “Leo, hi. I was a little surprised to receive your call.” He ushers me inside, quickly glancing up and down the hall before locking us inside.
“Yeah. This meeting needs to stay between us and completely off the books.”
He studies me for a moment. “You’re former Secret Service, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I can keep a secret.”
“This entire meeting stays between us, off the record. Never happened.”
I nod again.
“I can’t promise you not to tell my husband, though. Especially if this involves government business.”
“It doesn’t involve government business. It’s more a personal errand.” I know from things I’ve observed that Daniel and Liam likely have a similar arrangement as Elliot and I do. Only in this case, Liam’s probably the Master.
And the lucky, gorgeous bastards are happily married and have been for years.
Yes, to each other. Duh.
I think there’s also maybe a third party involved but that’s due to my personal observations, not to any rumors I’ve heard.
Observations regarding a certain sophomore senator.
A man.
A very married, conservative man.
Married to a woman with a family who has all sorts of political connections.
If my instincts are correct, it’ll be a bombshell if it ever becomes public.
There’s part of me who’s curious about that, about maybe digging. Lobbing that kind of political Molotov cocktail could, if timed right, completely drown out any announcement of Elliot coming out and marrying me.
It’s something to think about.
Yes, I’m a very evil man. Your point is what, exactly?
Except Senator Davis is halfway through his third term and is a reliable supporter of Shae’s legislative agenda. He’s chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee, a member of the Senate Appropriations Committee, and a member of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Subcommittee on National Parks.
/>
It’s amazing the man even has time to get his cock sucked, much less for a marriage and a possible third party.
Daniel motions for me to have a seat on the sofa while he takes the chair. “Then if we’re in agreement everything today is off the record, go ahead.”
“Do you have any insight into what Stella Woodley is currently up to behind the scenes? Especially in tandem with Congresswoman Grace Martin.”
He scowls. I can tell I just lobbed him a fast pitch from a completely unexpected direction. He likely thought this would be something about the budget process. “Stella Woodley, as in Vice President Woodley’s sister?”
I nod.
Daniel’s expression grows guarded. “I know she and Congresswoman Martin have a lot of mutual friends in a certain townhouse on C Street.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He settles in his seat, both more relaxed now that he realizes this really is personal, and more guarded because he’s not sure where I’m going with it. “I’m sure you know my husband and I are members of two of the prayer groups.”
“I do. Which is why I came to you. Because I know that, despite your spiritual affiliations, you’re not exactly chummy with the C Street folks. Neither of you are sitting at the good tables at the National Prayer Breakfast every year.”
He snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.” He scratches his chin, buying himself a little time. “What, exactly, are your thoughts?”
I shrug. “I’m best friends with the vice president. And you know I work for President Samuels. You should also know I’m loyal to them. Anything I sense coming at them from an unforeseen direction, I step in. Especially petty bullshit that can distract either of them.”
He cocks his head. “Is Woodley declaring soon?”
I shrug. “He hasn’t answered that question.”
“He’s running out of time. You know there’s at least five other Dems eager to eviscerate each other if he bows out, right? The DNC even mentioned to Liam that they’d be interested in talking to him, if he was open to running. Which he’s not. Not this time, anyway. No one wanting in this time has the balls to primary the vice president, if he declares.”
I slowly enunciate my answer. “He hasn’t answered that question yet.”
He nods, realizing that’s all he’ll get from me.
Quid pro quo isn’t technically illegal—it is illegal.
The thing is, it happens all the time in DC. It’s how the sausage gets made. There are lots of little ways to do it that slide under the radar. A congressman will cosign a bill if a senator adds an amendment during reconciliation. A senator will help kick money for a highway project to a congressman if the congressman corrals some of their caucus to push for oversight hearings into something or other.
And so forth.
It’s rarely as blatant as telling a foreign power they won’t receive their congressionally earmarked foreign aid for security assistance unless they help investigate a certain politician’s election opponent.
It can even take the form of seeking information, and owing someone a future ask of like value in return.
“So what kind of information are you looking for, Leo?”
“Anything that I might not know regarding Grace Martin, Stella Woodley, and their C Street buddies. Anything that I should know.”
He sits forward, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. “There was a certain lobbyist who dated Congresswoman Martin two years ago. Liberal, working on behalf of a coalition of religious organizations from the Pacific Northwest. Guy dealing with a lot of money. I’m talking four megachurches, among other entities represented. But more socially liberal and fiscally conservative. Pro-life, and pro-school vouchers, but also anti-death penalty, anti-gun, and pro-LGBTQ equality. Right?”
I sit forward and nod.
“Martin was shaking the tree pretty vigorously on both sides of the aisle, looking to secure co-signers for a bill promoting school prayer.” I arch an eyebrow at him. “I know, right? Stick, meet dead horse, courtesy of SCOTUS. Anyway. From my personal…observations, let’s say, she was not very happy her pet lobbyist didn’t shower money and favors upon the various members her tree-shaking earned her. Meaning nearly all of them backed out, and it never even made it out of committee. No shocker there.”
“Then what?”
“Funny thing. The lobbyist suddenly got audited by the IRS, was dropped by all his clients, and ended up the focus of a federal investigation for FEC violations. All at the same time. Oh, and Martin reportedly dumped him the day before all this converged on him.”
“Oh, really?” I hadn’t heard any of this.
He slowly nods. “It was never public knowledge that they dated. She was careful. Left no trail. There’s also the distinct possibility she dated Senator Connors for a couple of months before he announced last year that he wasn’t running for re-election due to an unspecified health issue. But, again, she left no public trail.”
I blink. “Stephen Connors? Mississippi?”
He nods. “The liberal Dem, yes. The miracle man of Mississippi.”
“Fuuuck.” Connors’ sudden retirement had caught the DSCC and DNC by surprise. There’s now a desperate race between the two frontrunners in that race, a Democrat trying to hold on to the seat to keep it blue, and a very conservative Republican who, for a time, lived in the C Street townhouse while he was a congressman.
Daniel wryly smiles. “Want more?”
I sit back, chewing on what he’s told me. “How much more is there?”
“At least four more instances that I know about. Two congressman, another lobbyist, and a Senate staffer.”
“She’s been busy.”
“That’s one word for it.” He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs at the ankles. He’s a gorgeous man. His husband’s very lucky. “Here’s the funny thing. A couple of weeks ago, one of the interns in our office not-so-nonchalantly asked me if I’d had much contact with the vice president when he was a congressman.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Did they, now?”
“A young woman finishing her senior year at Georgetown, yes. I did a little digging and learned she’s pretty chummy with an intern in Congresswoman Martin’s office.”
“And they just so happened to have lunch together in the days leading up to that question?”
“Dinner, and yes. Them, and a couple of other interns…and someone else.”
“Stella Woodley?
Daniel smiles. “You’re really good at this.”
“Unfortunately.” I stomp back my growing anger. “What’d you tell her?”
“The truth. That I’ve met Mr. Woodley in the course of my job but we hadn’t really socialized together or anything. I know a fishing trip when I see it. And that was the truth. I doubt the vice president even knows my name, unless he remembers it because I’m Senator Davis’ husband.”
“I appreciate the intel. I consider it a favor.”
He shrugs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We both stand but, before I can thank him and head for the door, he speaks again.
“I don’t know how close the vice president is to his sister but, if you really are his best friend, I would suggest you plant yourself on his six and stay alert.”
“Thank you. I definitely will.” We shake hands and I head out—alone.
Then I spend the cab ride back across the river to the White House stewing over this information. It’s bad news, I’m sure.
The only good thing about it is that it gives me something to distract me from the painful gnawing in my soul over the unhealed loss of Jordan and his absence from my life.
Chapter Forty-One
I’m nearly ready to strip and jump in the shower when Jordan returns to our room. He looks borderline frantic.
“Sorry I’m running behind, Sir! I—”
Before I can chicken out, I pull him into my arms and kiss him. “Shh. You’re fine. All done?”
“Yes, Sir. The vice president’s residence is finished, and they’ll wrap up the White House residence in about four hours. There’s nothing left for me to do there. They have it under control. They can’t move some of the furniture in until the painting’s completed.”
I back him over to the bed and sit him on the edge. I want to do this right now, because I know I won’t be able to focus tonight if I don’t. “Are you staying in DC?”
He scowls, understandably confused by my question. “Sir?”
“Yes or no, baby. Are you, for sure, staying in DC? I need to hear you say it. Right now.” I know that’s an odd question, to him, because he starts his new job in the East Wing tomorrow afternoon. Chris wanted to be there for Shae and Kev in the morning, and told his staff to wait until afternoon to congregate in their new offices.
“Yes, Sir. I’m staying in DC.”
“With me?”
“With you.”
I lean in and kiss him, glad we’re both still dressed, because otherwise this could quickly devolve into sex. “I love you, Jordan.”
His eyes widen as he processes what I’ve just said. “I-I love you, too, Sir.”
That’s gift number two.
Gift number one I pull from my pocket. The stainless-steel chainmail bracelet feels warm from where it’s been riding there ever since I got dressed this morning. It looks innocent, like him. A symbol he can wear every day without worrying about what someone thinks.
“You know Elliot has to be first in my heart and life, because you know how I feel about him. You also know we have secrets to keep. But I need you to know I’m not going anywhere. I love you, and I want you to be my boy. I want to know if you’ll wear this day collar so you’ll always have this part of me with you as a reminder of how much I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Tears spill from his eyes as he nods.
I reach up and gently brush them away. “I need you to ask me to wear it. I need to hear you say it, so I know it’s what you want, too.”
“I want to wear it, Sir. I want to be yours for life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too.”
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 39
