by Cassie Cole
The Finance Committee dealt with the various revenue generating matters of the federal government: taxes, tariffs, and other matters relating to customs or ports of entry. Most people would find it boring, tedious work, but not me. Numbers were my jam. I was the kind of woman who liked to audit accounting books for fun, spending an entire day trying to make the numbers properly add up. Not only did I enjoy it, but I was good at it, too. It wasn’t often a young senator found herself on a committee so early in her career.
Like all days on the Hill, this one flew by. Our committee was interrupted several times when votes on the senate floor were announced, requiring us to rush inside, verbally cast our vote, and then return. I ate my lunch while listening to the testimony from a port of entry manager who said entrants weren’t properly declaring all items upon entering the United States, and who insisted our customs forms be modified. Then the afternoon was spent back on the senate floor listening to deliberations on half a dozen bills. The bills all had near unanimous support from both parties, but certain senators still wanted to get up and say their peace. Getting as much time in front of the CSPAN cameras as possible. Footage that could later be used in campaign ads.
I glanced at my watch. I was counting down the minutes until we adjourned for the day because I had a meeting with my campaign manager this afternoon. One I’d been looking forward to for weeks. The opposition research we had ordered had finally come back.
Eventually a wooden gavel banged against the table, calling an end to today’s senate session. I gathered my laptop and papers and quickly shuffled out of the chamber.
I chit-chatted with two other senators while walking down the hall. Everyone was friendly when we were out of session, even members of opposing parties. Most senators had families. I was one of the few bachelorettes on the Hill, but I still enjoyed asking others how their kids were. If little Johnny had made the debate team, or if Suzy was still swimming.
I almost didn’t notice the Capitol Policeman standing at attention in the hallway. They were everywhere, silently keeping us safe, but there was something different about this cop. Most stared straight ahead, or gave a respectful nod or greeting. But this guy? He leered. His eyes followed me as I approached, and he grinned like he knew me. And then, as I passed him, he made a grunting noise. The kind a guy makes when his juicy steak arrives at the table.
“Excuse me?” I said, stopping. The other senators with me, two women and one man, stopped too. “Is there something I can help you with?”
The cop’s smile reached his eyes. “There’s plenty you could help me with,” he said in a deep, suggestive voice.
One of the other senators almost choked on her coffee. Another snickered with incredulity.
I took a good look at him. He had a thin black beard and messy dark hair underneath his hat. He’d broken uniform protocol by rolling up his sleeves, revealing colorful tattoos on his muscular forearms. I could tell by the way his uniform fit that the rest of his body was also covered with muscle. His eyes held a sexy promise as he stared back coolly.
He was gorgeous in every way. Like a delicious stripper version of a policeman. But he was also young. 25 at most, a decade my junior.
I might have laughed the whole thing off and given him a flirty comment of my own, but the other senators were watching. Waiting to see what I would do. I fixed the officer with a cool stare.
“What’s your badge number?” I asked. I didn’t intend to report him, but I wanted to make him sweat.
But this guy? He only grinned back at me. “Take a closer look for yourself.”
Now that he’d called my bluff, I had to follow through. I pulled out my phone, leaned in, and snapped a photo of the badge on his chest. Up close his cologne smelled peppery and sweet.
“Enjoy unemployment,” I said, turning away.
“You got it, sugar.”
I paused. “The proper way to address me is Senator O’Hare.”
“You got it, Senator O’Hare,” he said with that same smile. I felt it on my backside all the way down the hall.
“There aren’t many Capitol Policeman leering at me!” said Senator Hitchens with a laugh. She was 62 and had been serving the people of Rhode Island for almost 30 years. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
“I’ll try,” I muttered. I felt annoyed by the interaction… But only a little bit. The flirting was almost a welcome change from the men who looked at female politicians like we were vipers, unsure whether they should point and laugh at us or run away screaming. It was nice to be appreciated as a physical person sometimes. Even if my position meant I could never really enjoy the attention.
Megan, my bubbly campaign manager, was waiting in my office. “About time!” she said.
I closed the door and rounded my desk. “Carlson was droning on and on about the security bill. You know how it is.”
She grimaced, then waved it all away. “First of all, happy birthday.” She tossed a card onto the desk. “You need to come to Frankie’s Pub tonight at 7:00.”
I groaned. “Not a surprise party.”
“The staff insisted,” Megan said. “I promised them I would find a way to lure you out. All you have to do is make an appearance.”
“I hate surprise parties!”
“They’re easy. Show up, act surprised, have a drink, then go home knowing there are people in your life who care about you.”
Those people didn’t care about me. Not really. They were coworkers and staff who really just wanted to get on my good side by sucking up. Everyone was always angling for favors in this town.
“Fine,” I said. “But only because 35 is the most important birthday of my life.”
We grinned at each other.
“Speaking of that, people are starting to talk,” Megan said. “Our secret isn’t going to be a secret much longer.”
“Let them talk. Light rumors never hurt anyone. If anything, it helps build up the suspense for when we finally do announce.” I paused and waited. “Well? Did we get it?”
She pulled out a thick folder from her bag. Although she’d tossed my card on the desk, this item she placed as carefully as a newborn child.
“The third party oppo research is here.”
I grabbed it, feeling its weight. It was thick, like a college textbook. Did they really have this much to say about the entirety of my background?
“Did I pass?” I asked. I thought about what I’d done last night in the hotel. Those kinds of dates would need to end, soon. There would be too much scrutiny on me and my campaign. It was risky. And if the researcher had discovered evidence of those late-night meetings…
Megan smiled and opened her mouth, but then an ear-piercing siren split the air.
Both of us winced and covered our ears. “Building threat,” I said.
“Bomb, or active shooter?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
As if on cue, my phone buzzed on the table. An emergency alert from the internal congressional app. I read it and said, “We’re supposed to shelter in-place. A capitol policeman will let us know when it’s safe.”
Megan ran to the door and locked it, then came around the other side of the desk. Then we huddled together underneath its huge wooden mass.
Even though this sort of thing happened several times a month, and was always a false alarm, it was tough not to feel afraid. The political landscape was toxic these days. All it took was one nutjob with a gun and a vendetta…
Someone knocked heavily on the door. “Capitol Police. Senator O’Hare?”
I went to the door and wondered if it was the same officer who had leered at me. The voice was similar but tough to tell through the thick wood.
“Code?” I asked.
“Eisenhower.”
I verified the code word on my app and opened the door. This Capitol Policeman had grey in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes, but his face was hard as stone. Surprisingly, I felt disappointed it was not the tattooed officer with the suggestive smi
le.
“Ma’am, please come with me to the safe room. Your staff will remain here.” His hand was on his sidearm as if he might need to use it at any moment.
“Of course I’m expendable,” Megan muttered.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, although I doubted he would tell me. They never did.
He surprised me by saying, “We received a credible threat against an unspecified female senator. Please follow me.”
I gave Megan one last look as I was led away.
4
Elizabeth
It was a false alarm. They always were, which I guess was the best case scenario. But I still felt frustrated when they finally let us leave since I’d missed the meeting with Megan, the one I’d been looking forward to all day. We had so much to do, so much to plan.
At least the security threat gave me an excuse to skip the surprise party at Frankie’s Pub.
I opened up a bottle of wine when I got home and poured a large glass. “Happy birthday to me,” I said, toasting the empty room. The silence was perfect. Senators didn’t get much time to themselves.
Across the room, the venetian mask sparkled in the light.
I tore open Megan’s card. A picture of a golden retriever puppy pointed its paw up at me, with a caption that said, “Who’s awesome? You’re awesome!” I opened it and read the simple inscription on the inside:
Keep being awesome. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.
-M
The card was the kind of cheesy thing I hated. Megan knew that, which was why she’d gotten it for me. But it made me laugh, and the inscription was sweet. Short and focused, just like my campaign manager.
I pulled out my phone and texted her.
Me: Thanks for the card. It’s stupid and I hate it.
Megan: Cheer up. You could be turning 75 this week, like Senator Kirono
Me: Ha ha.
Megan: Get some sleep tonight. And don’t skip your morning jog tomorrow. You’re always sharpest on the Hill when your endolphins are flowing.
Me: En-dolphins?
Me: I didn’t realize sea mammals were part of my campaign platform!
Megan: OMG, shut up. You know I meant endorphins! Go for your jog tomorrow.
I changed into comfortable clothes, topped off my wine, and got started giving myself a birthday present.
I loved to cook. Chopping garlic, grating cheese, browning ground meat in a pan. To me it was like foreplay for dinner; the smells and tastes of all the ingredients teasing and tantalizing you before the real action. Tonight I was making my special lasagna. I rarely had time to make it for myself these days, but for my birthday I was going to make the time, even if it meant being up so late that my morning jog was a struggle.
One itch scratched last night. Another one scratched tonight. Just enough indulgence to keep me motivated and focused.
I was finishing the tomato sauce when my doorbell rang.
I froze with the wooden spatula in my hand. It wasn’t Megan—I’d told her I wanted the rest of the night to myself, and she would respect that boundary. The next thing I thought of was the false alarm at the Capitol building. Maybe it wasn’t a false alarm after all.
I grabbed two things from the counter: my taser, and my congressional alarm button. I didn’t want to trigger the alarm that would bring every police officer in a two mile radius down on my apartment, but I wanted the option just in case. With that in my left hand and my taser in the right, I stalked to the front door on quiet feet.
The doorbell rang again and a third time in rapid succession. Someone impatient. As I rounded the corner into my entrance hall I saw the outline of a figure through the fogged glass. It looked like a police officer holding something under one arm.
With my taser still at the ready, I threw open the door. A rush of cold air blew inside.
The Capitol Policeman looked the same as he had this afternoon, except now he held a motorcycle helmet under one arm. The cold winter air added a touch of red to his face, which somehow made him even more sexy than before. Now that he wasn’t wearing a hat I could see that the sides of his head were shaved short, with a thicker tangle of black on top, which was currently messy because of the helmet. His motorcycle jacket covered most of his skin, but I could still see the tattoos running up the left side of his neck.
He leered at me with that same smile. Like he knew a joke the rest of the world didn’t get.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “If you’re here to apologize, don’t bother. I’m not going to file a complaint for your behavior today.”
He snorted. “I’m not here to apologize, sugar.”
There was that tone again. Too familiar. I fought down the urge to appreciate it and crossed my arms. “Then why are you ringing my doorbell this late at night?”
His leather jacket creaked as he leaned back and looked up at the house with his dark eyes. “They sent me here to watch your apartment tonight. I just wanted to let you know, in case you saw my face sitting across the street and wondered how you got so lucky.”
I fought down the urge to laugh in his face. He sure had a high opinion of himself. Typical from a young, cocky officer. Especially a motorcycle cop.
“My apartment doesn’t need watching,” I said. “Maybe try the condo four units down? Esther is 92 and could use some company.”
I closed the door in his face.
I turned into the side room and watched through the slit in the curtains. He walked down my porch, then across the street to where his motorcycle was parked. He threw a leg over the bike, straddling it while looking up at my apartment. I could see his leer from here.
I closed the blinds and returned to my lasagna.
As I finished cooking the meat and sauce, and then placed the dish into the oven to bake, I could feel his presence outside. Maybe it was the wine, but it gave me a tingling sensation of being protected. I wasn’t alone tonight. There was a young Capitol Policeman outside my house.
He was as cocky as could be, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Much as I hated to admit it, that attitude probably would have worked on me if I was 10 years younger. Even at my current age it was working a little bit. I was a sucker for a guy with tattoos.
After a few more sips of wine, I went back to the front window. He was still straddling his bike, standing out there in the cold. How long would he watch my house? All night? He probably hadn’t eaten, and I doubted he’d packed anything. Guys like him never thought ahead.
He looks like he thinks with only one thing.
Watching him stand out there, I started feeling sorry for him. Inappropriate comments aside, he was just a kid doing his job. Keeping me safe while I sat in a warm condo, treating myself to a bottle of wine and my favorite meal. It was a shitty job for him on a night like tonight, with snow threatening in those dark clouds.
I sipped my wine and wondered what other tattoos he had underneath that uniform.
5
Anthony
Fucking hell.
Out of all the politicians in Washington, I got sent to guard the ridiculously hot one.
The one I’d made a pass at today.
She was young for a senator. I’d assumed she was a campaign aide or an intern. Big fucking mistake on my part, I’ll admit. But using that as an excuse would have made me look like more of an asshole, not less. Better to steer into the skid.
She’d answered the door wearing silk pajamas. Pants that were baggy and loose, but a top that hugged her curves more tightly. Breasts that were perky and full. She still had on the lipstick from the day which accentuated her full lips. Lips begging to be kissed. I was a sucker for a puckered red pair like that.
Fucking hell. No politician had a right to look like that. How was I supposed to concentrate during the day with someone like her walking around in a pencil skirt and heels? Now that I knew who she was, Senator Elizabeth O’Hare from Ohio, I wasn’t even intimidated. If anything, the power she wielded made her seem even se
xier. A woman with power.
I fucking ached for her. Literal pain deep within the sexual part of my soul. If she were someone I’d met in a bar I would have spent the entire night trying to take her home. I would’ve brought my A-game.
She thought she was being discrete, but I could see her peeking out the curtains at me every few minutes. Like I was a neighborhood bum who wouldn’t go away. Totally unappreciative that I was out here in the dick-numbing cold. Keeping her safe.
Typical politician.
But you know what? I didn’t really care. I wanted to keep her safe. It was my job, and I’d much rather be protecting someone like her than a wrinkled old fart who really took me for granted. Keeping people safe was in my blood.
The fact that it was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen on the Hill…
I rubbed my hands together. I had this post until I was relieved at 5:00am. I should have grabbed a sandwich from the QuikMart. Or a thermos of something hot. Yeah, soup. That’s what I should have brought. I’d kill for something like that if only to keep my hands warm.
I glanced up at the apartment. She hadn’t peeked out at me in a while. She’d probably already gone to bed, my frozen ass already forgotten.
“Fucking politicians,” I grumbled.
“I already told you: the proper way to address me is Senator O’Hare.”
I twisted on my bike. She stood behind me, a coat wrapped tight around her body. Even then she looked incredible, porcelain skin touched with just enough color from the cold. Rosy cheeks matching her lips.
“You look pleased with yourself,” I said.
“For someone watching my apartment, you’re not very observant.”
“I’ve been watching the front door.”
“But not the back, where I came around.” She smiled smugly, like she’d gotten the best of me. Which, if I was being totally honest, she had.
“You came out here in the cold just to tell me I’m doing a shitty job. A valuable use of taxpayer dollars.”
