And when the violence of their orgasms had quieted and they lay in each other’s arms, Kamal’s heart still pounded, because he knew that if he ever lost Jessica the way she’d lost John, he wouldn’t survive it. Over the course of a few months, she had become everything to him. Everything that mattered in his heart, in his mind, in his soul, and now in his future as well. Because they had a future. His future was with this woman, and as soon as she was done with her term in office, he was going to ensure that she knew it by putting a ring on her finger and a family in her home.
Chapter 17
As Kamal sat in the living room of his hotel suite, still in sweats and a T-shirt, he had to admit it was a rather impressive photo. That they’d been able to snap him from a rooftop a few hundred yards away and still have him be recognizable in the dark was a testament to modern digital photography.
“Sir?” Tariq asked. “Did you want the rest of the bad news now, or maybe you’d like to digest that bit first?”
Kamal gave his security chief the side eye before tossing the newspaper down on the coffee table. “Oh, by all means, let’s get it all out now.”
Tariq stifled a grin, schooling his features quickly. “Yes, sir. So, in addition to the Washington Post publishing the photos of you entering the White House after hours, there’s an Egyptian expat who is claiming that you’ve been a double agent for the American government for years and that you’ve only requested asylum now to keep from being executed for espionage back home.”
“Well, since none of that is true, I’m not terribly concerned about it. He won’t be able to provide any evidence so it can’t harm me in the long run… Who is it?”
“Salim Hasaad.”
“Yes. A long-time associate of President Abbas, so not surprising.”
Tariq continued. “And the president has received a threat on her life via the New York Times.”
Kamal bolted off the sofa, spilling his coffee in the process and swearing like a sailor.
“You waited to tell me this until the end, why?”
He stormed into the bedroom, ripping off his T-shirt as he went.
Tariq followed, phone in hand as he texted something. “I waited because it’s not directly related to you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Kamal turned, brow furrowed, and eyes flashing. “It has everything to do with me. Anything that has to do with the president now has to do with me. Are we clear?”
Tariq sighed. “Yes, sir. But you need to remember that the president has the finest protection force in the world—well, aside from yours—and they aren’t going to let anything happen to her. She’s locked up in the White House with half the United States Marine Corps surrounding her along with the Secret Service, and Homeland Security personnel in half the clerical and IT jobs. No one’s getting to her.”
Kamal pulled on a button-down, leaving it open as he dropped his sweats and grabbed a pair of flat-front chinos. He stepped into the slacks and hurriedly fastened them. “Why the hell are you texting? And don’t tell me they can’t get to her, I was there when they shot at her in her supposedly safe and guarded yard.”
Tariq tucked the phone into the front pocket of his leather jacket. “Car’s waiting, sir.”
“And I want the car brought… What?”
“The car’s waiting downstairs, sir. You are going to the White House, aren’t you?”
Kamal huffed out a breath. “Yes.”
“Even though you can’t do a damn thing for her that the resources of the world’s largest superpower aren’t already?”
Kamal grabbed his wallet and shoved it into his pocket, draping a sport coat over his arm with the other hand. “I can be her friend.”
“Yes, there is that.” Tariq let the smirk loose this time, and Kamal growled at him as he walked by.
“And sir?”
Kamal paused, hand on the doorknob to exit the suite. “What now?”
“If you’re going to be the president’s friend…you might want to take a moment to brush your teeth.”
Kamal’s face was a study in fury, but he didn’t say a word as he stormed back to the bathroom, Tariq chuckling the entire time.
He was hovering. It was sweet, but Jessica thought she might lose her mind if he didn’t stop.
“Kamal?” she said from her desk where she was trying to get through paperwork that had been sitting there for days.
“Yes?” He jumped up from his seat nearby.
Jessica sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. “You really don’t need to stay here all day. They’ve doubled security both in and out of the building, and I only have one engagement off the premises today. A quick trip to the Hill to meet with the Speaker of the House. Why don’t you go ahead and do what you need to do and come back for the state dinner this evening at eight.”
“Why are you going to the Hill? They’re supposed to come to you.”
She sighed, willing herself to be patient with the man. “It was a special invitation. It’s his tenth year in office, and he requested that I join him for a small celebration.”
Kamal muttered something under his breath.
“Kamal.” She walked to him and placed her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “You’re going to drive me insane if you don’t go do something else.”
“That letter to the Times was a real threat, Jessica,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. She tried not to get sidetracked from her purpose, but his touch made it difficult.
“And we are treating it seriously. But I’m still the president, and I have a lot of work to do. I can’t if you’re parked in my office all day. In addition to the fact that while they have a photo of you entering the building last night, they haven’t yet figured out that we’re involved romantically. The more you hang around here, the sooner they’re going to catch on.”
He sighed and nodded but then leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, sending flurries of warmth and tingling through her. “I’ve been receiving information all morning relating to Abbas and his involvement with the Bratva. Would your staff be willing to discuss it with me?”
“Of course. They’ve been told that they need to be in communication with you about it. And if they bristle at possible security breaches, I’ll tell Vanessa to bring me in immediately. I’ll have her set you up with some of the Homeland Security staff and someone from the Pentagon right away.”
“How about Colonel Thibadeux? He’s a close friend, as you know. He has more than adequate security clearance for the conversation.”
“Of course, whoever you want is fine.”
“Good.” He kissed her again, and she couldn’t help but smile. He was irritating, but so charming at the same time. “But I want to go with you to the Hill.”
She started to interrupt him, but he put a finger over her lips. “I won’t go into the building, just let me ride along. It will make me feel better, and it’s only a car ride, in a limo with tinted windows. No one will know I’m there.”
She shook her head but smiled. “Fine. I’ll have Vanessa get you when it’s time to go. Now, let’s get you set up to discuss this mess about your former leader. I’d like to be out from under this ridiculous security excess as soon as possible.
“So let me make sure I understand everything that we do know,” Jeff began as Kamal sat down with him and two members of the director of Homeland Security’s upper staff as well as Vanessa. “We know that the Bratva are smuggling the drugs, we know that it’s Abbas’s freight shipping company that they’re using to do it, we know that the bullets used in the White House shooting were standard Bratva assassin ware, and we know that the terrorist group that signed the letter to the New York Times this morning is one of the groups that the Bratva is selling the drugs to.”
Kamal nodded along with the others in the room.
“But we haven’t been able to specifically pin the hit on the Bratva, and we don’t know how Mr. Masri’s father is invol
ved, although we think he is?” Jeff looked to Kamal.
“My father put tremendous pressure on me to end the talks for the accord, and has been in several business ventures with Abbas over the years. He’s also in a photo with Abbas and a high-ranking leader of the Bratva taken recently.”
Jeff nodded.
“But I have additional information this morning, which is why I wanted to meet with all of you,” Kamal added. He set his phone down on the table and slid it toward Jeff. “Pass that around while I explain it. The man on the left in that photo is President Abbas’s brother, and the man he’s talking to is a very well-known Bratva assassin, the same assassin who was spotted in DC during the twelve hours prior to the attempt on the president’s life.”
Jeff passed the phone along. “And when was this taken?”
Kamal smiled. “Thirty-six hours before the assassination attempt.”
“And who took it and how did you get it?” Vanessa asked, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know who took it, unfortunately, but it does have a time and date stamp, so the timing can be verified. I got it because whoever did take it put it up for sale on a black market site that specializes in espionage artifacts and tidbits of intelligence.”
“You bought it?” Jeff shook his head.
“No. My man contacted the seller and explained to him that if he didn’t hand it over, the US government would be on him so hard, they’d be in him.” Kamal grinned. “It worked. He didn’t really have any idea what he had, just knew that someone somewhere would be interested in a government official’s brother meeting with a known assassin.”
Vanessa turned to the pair from Homeland Security before passing the phone back to Kamal. “Is this enough to do or say something official, finally?”
The older of the two nodded. “I think it’s enough for us to dispatch someone to the embassy in Cairo and start discussions with the parliament. They wanted more evidence when President Hampton spoke to the prime minister the other night, but he wasn’t opposed to an investigation. He simply needed more proof to cover his ass.”
“Yes, and I don’t blame him, because when the prime minister and Abbas go at it, it’s going to get ugly,” the second Homeland Security staffer said.
“It is,” Kamal agreed. “And you should use me to help you with any inside information that you might need as this whole thing proceeds. I can give you insights that you won’t get from your ambassador in Cairo, and that even your Egypt experts in-house can’t provide.”
Vanessa nodded. “Yes, the president wants Mr. Masri involved in this at the highest levels.”
The Homeland Security duo looked skeptical, and Kamal felt his anger flare, but Jeff shook his head subtly. Down boy, he seemed to convey.
“I know the military would be happy to have Mr. Masri’s perspective. Anything that can keep our interests protected. We’ll need to put extra personnel at the US embassy in Egypt immediately, and the general will look at bringing in extra troops to the region to quell any possible eruptions due to the destabilization of the government.”
Kamal took a deep breath, overcome with sadness for his people. The rush of resigning his post, moving out of the embassy, and trying to juggle concern for Jessica’s safety with an investigation to catch Abbas and his cronies had distracted Kamal from the fact that he was now a man without a country—a man who had forsaken his own people. His heart ached, and the guilt was invasive. He might not feel that Egypt was home, but he would always feel Egyptian, and the last thing he’d ever wanted was to put the people of Egypt at risk. But he had to admit that if Abbas fought the prime minister’s investigation, things could become uncivil quickly.
A knock sounded on the door, and then one of the president’s secretaries stuck his head in. “Mr. Masri? The president said that she’s giving you a ride to the Hill?”
“Yes.”
“Her car and driver are ready to leave.”
“Thank you, I’ll be there right away.”
The secretary left, and Kamal stood. “I hope that you will all discuss this carefully before taking the first step. Egypt is a nation that teeters on the brink of discord, and I would hate to be a further disruption to stability there. The people of Egypt don’t deserve more strife than they’ve had to endure in the last decade.”
Jeff nodded, and the Homeland Security staff agreed emphatically.
“Vanessa, I will send this photo to you along with the documentation we received about it and you can distribute to the appropriate parties?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Thank you.” Kamal nodded at Jeff and shook hands with the others before exiting the room and following the Secret Service escort to the Oval Office, where the president was putting on her jacket.
“Let me help you with that,” Kamal said as he walked in and hurried to hold the other side of Jessica’s jacket.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling.
“That dress is incredibly sexy on you, Madam President,” he said softly, glancing at the doors that were open to the portico outside where Secret Service and military guards waited.
She smiled knowingly. “Thank you, Mr. Masri.”
They walked to the car and slid into the backseat, security staff climbing into cars in front and in back of them.
“You’ve filled Homeland Security and the military in on the latest information?” Jessica asked as she scrolled through emails on her phone while the car slowly wound through DC traffic.
“Yes, they have the information and…” he hit Send on his own phone, “now they have copies of the photo as well.”
“Vanessa will brief me when I get back, but the general consensus was…?”
“That it’s time to present everything formally to the prime minister and parliament.”
Jessica nodded. “Okay.” She sighed, then turned to him. “I am sorry about all of this. I realize it’s very hard on you.”
Kamal watched the monuments of DC roll past the window, and his mind wandered to the amazing monuments and buildings of his homeland—the pyramids, the ruins of Memphis and Thebes, the mosques of Cairo. He wondered if he would ever see any of those miracles again, the true weight of what he’d done sinking in a bit more. He turned to look at Jessica, finding nothing but love and empathy on her beautiful face. And he knew that while he would mourn the loss of his country, it was worth it in order to protect her.
“It is hard on me, but I’ve done what needed to be done, and I would make the same choice over and over again.”
She nodded and reached out to squeeze his hand gently, quietly, no words needed as they communicated through the tiniest of touches so perfectly.
“We’re here, ma’am,” the driver said as the car pulled up in front of the Capitol building.
Peter was sitting in the front seat of the car and exited first, stepping to the back door and opening it. Kamal stepped out to allow Jessica to exit. Peter moved a few feet away to give Kamal room, and another agent began to approach from the car behind as Jessica slid out, shielding her eyes from the sun.
And that was when all hell broke loose. “Shooter!” the voice of an agent on the steps of the Capitol shouted. Kamal’s army-honed reflexes kicked in as they had in the White House gardens. He was no more than two feet from Jessica, and he dove at her, as Peter did the same from farther away. He caught her squarely, her back to his front, one hand wrapped around her head as they headed for the pavement, Peter coming at them from the other side.
But as Jessica’s scream rang out among the shouts of the Secret Service, Kamal felt something rip through his back, searing pain following right behind it. His left arm jerked violently and then he couldn’t catch his breath. He hit the ground, Jessica still beneath him, and felt her struggling to get out from under him. Peter was over them now hissing, “Stay down! Stay down, Madam President!”
Kamal tried to tell Peter that something was wrong, but the words dissolved in a horrible liquid bubbling sound, and in that moment, he knew
that the hit had been very bad. Then there were voices everywhere, feet pounding, sirens going off, and he was being moved, pulled onto his back, where more sharp pain jolted through him and everything grew gray in front of his eyes.
“Madam President!” Peter yelled. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Jessica’s voice was trembling, and Kamal tried to reach out to comfort her, but his arms were like lead, refusing to take even the slightest instruction from his hazy mind.
“There’s blood on the president,” someone growled.
“Ma’am, we have to see if you’re…”
That was when Jessica’s voice pitched up. “Kamal! Oh my God, Kamal.”
Her smooth hands cupped his face, and through the pinprick of vision that he retained, he could see her tear-streaked face.
“Shit! Mr. Masri is hit!” Peter shouted. “Ma’am,” Peter said softly as he joined Jessica over Kamal. “You need to get back into the car. I’ll take care of him, I promise.”
“Oh my God, Kamal,” she sobbed.
“Ma’am,” Peter hissed. “You need to let me handle this.”
Jessica nodded, tears streaming down her face. Kamal tried again to tell her that it would all be fine, but when he opened his mouth, only coppery liquid trickled out, and Jessica sobbed harder. Then the pinprick of vision faded, and everything that was gray went to black.
Jessica had been sitting at the hospital for seven hours now. Kamal had come out of surgery thirty minutes ago, but still they wouldn’t let her see him, and she was about to lose her mind. They’d cleared half the floor at the hospital when they’d brought him in, the Secret Service insisting that the entire surgery and post-op be set up in an otherwise vacant wing of Walter Reed Hospital. She’d sat in an empty room, aides whisking in and out over the hours, asking for official statements, giving her updates on what was happening with the shooter, who’d been caught within minutes of the attack. And now Kamal was out of surgery, and frankly, if they didn’t let her see him in the next five minutes, she was going to pull the president card and just have the Secret Service force the issue.
POTUS: A Powerplay Novel Page 19
