He didn’t trust anything today. Today was Maxwell’s deadline, and Asher hadn’t heard a thing from the man since Jenny had been abducted and released. Even if he had, he wouldn’t negotiate through threats, and he had no control over the highway expansion or government’s claim of eminent domain that had seized the Bowie Estate.
The FBI hadn’t found any sign of Maxwell. The silence ate at his nerves, and he tried to trust in his resources. Titan had focused on Jenny. She’d been under constant surveillance. They handled her transportation between Washington and New York and oversaw security for Tassels and Tangos.
Jenny was flustered by Titan’s attention, even if they blended into the background. She was also amazed by the response from her new fans. Life had changed quickly with the massive success of Tassels and Tangos—fan mail, phone calls for interviews, and an agent who returned her e-mails—but Jenny hadn’t changed at all.
Asher looked at her talking to a woman outside a polling location. Jenny gave the woman’s kid a McIntyre for Senate balloon and sticker, and the little kid squealed. Asher knew Titan had eyes on her as well, but he was hesitant every time Jenny stopped to talk to someone. It was only a matter of time before Maxwell struck.
Once they made it through the day, he had a big surprise for her, and he couldn’t wait.
Jenny waved to the kid and walked over, taking Asher’s hand. “Ready to go? Polls close in five minutes, and that was the last stop before we head to your party.” She swung his hand and smiled brightly. “Come on. Don’t be so serious. Everything is fine.”
She was confident in his win and had ignored the looming threat. She had gone on and on about not wanting to bring him down on his big day.
Elections results aren’t my concern. You are. Asher looked around and didn’t see the undercover security detail, only Murphy, who had been traveling with them on each campaign stop.
“Let’s do this.” He nodded, and Murphy moved toward their waiting vehicle.
With a quick wave to reporters who were manning the precinct location, he got into the back seat with Jenny and gave her a kiss.
They rode to the hotel in silence. His campaign team had their war room set up in one of the suites. He’d been in elections enough to know what it looked like. A mobile command center. Interns and staff. Several computer monitors set up on desks and makeshift tables. His campaign manager and consultants geared up for precinct-level data to float in. His press team had charged cell phones and laptops ready with pre-written press releases.
They arrived at the back entrance and took the stairs to the campaign’s suite. Downstairs in a ballroom was a crowd of volunteers, voters, and reporters. There was probably music blasting and an open bar. A few large screens showing the live feed from news stations. Normally, all this would psych him up, but Asher wanted nothing to do with crowds. Nothing to do with anything that might endanger Jenny.
His campaign consultant smiled and gave a big thumbs-up. “Early numbers are in. You killed in the swing counties. Locked up your voters. I give it two minutes tops before the AP calls it for you.”
Asher nodded, and his phone rang. The shrill sound made his stomach drop. He could feel the blood rush out of his face. He pulled his phone out and didn’t know the number.
“McIntyre.”
“Congratulations, Senator McIntyre.” The voice was familiar and welcome. His opponent.
Asher cleared his throat and tried to wipe away the panic that had quickly gurgled up. “Thank you for a hard-fought race.” They made the necessary small talk, but he watched Jenny. She was itching to get out of the suite and join the party.
He ended the call. The press team was already notifying reporters that his opponent had called to concede. Breaking news flashed across several television screens—McIntyre Wins New York’s Senate Seat.
The room erupted into applause and congratulations. A video monitor of the victory party in the ballroom showed the same thing.
He turned to Murphy. “Walk me through the security again.”
“We’ve swept the room. Everyone’s passed through metal detectors. Titan is in the ballroom. We’ve got eyes on the reporters, hotel staff, and crowd.”
“Maxwell is here. I know he is.”
“Might be, Senator.”
Asher gave Murphy a look. Only within the last week had the agent been convinced to stop calling Asher “Congressman.”
He turned to Jenny. “I want you on stage with me.” Out of arm’s reach wasn’t acceptable.
Her jaw dropped. “That’s like a family and staff thing.”
His family couldn’t make it. Molly was working election night in Washington, and his parents both had the flu and had called him obsessively all day. Besides, Jenny was family. That was a conversation he would bring up soon. Until then, a simple explanation would have to suffice. “I need you by my side.”
She beamed. “Let’s do this!”
***
Asher’s paranoid mood frazzled Jenny’s nerves, but she had no intention of showing that reaction. She’d decided early on, it was better to be all smiles and support than it was to feed into the tension. They both knew Maxwell would make an appearance. Titan knew it. The FBI knew it.
She tugged at her shirt and felt like she’d been Velcroed into a straight jacket. Both the FBI and Titan insisted that both she and Asher wear Kevlar vests. There was no sugarcoating their concerns after that request had been made mandatory. None of the men appreciated the challenges of finding a shirt and jacket that worked while wearing a bulletproof vest. Not that looks were an issue. Staying alive was the obvious goal. But still, a little more notice would have been helpful.
Asher took her hand as they walked into the ballroom, and her stomach fluttered. The room erupted in cheers. The music blasted. Cameras jumped in their faces. She grinned until her cheeks hurt and watched Asher, the picture of cool under pressure.
A million butterflies spun circles in her stomach while her hand went clammy in his grip.
“Doing okay, sweetheart?”
“Of course.” That might have been the first lie she’d ever told him. She went on tiptoes to his ear and whispered, “Just more attention than I’m used to.”
Their relationship wasn’t a secret. Reporters loved the up-and-coming-actress-tames-playboy-politician storyline.
“Get used to it. They’re all here for you. I’m just the story they have to report on.” He tugged her close. “I love you.”
They made their way to the big donors. Asher said his spiel to each of them, shaking hands and exchanging hugs. People she didn’t know squeezed her shoulder and offered her congratulations. I wasn’t the one who did anything.
He nodded out of a conversation and put his arm around her waist. “You’re going to do great.”
“And I once had a performance review that said I couldn’t smile and walk at the same time. Look at me go.”
Asher laughed and kissed her. The crowd clapped and cheered. Photographers’ cameras popped. The bright flashes were blinding. She blinked, trying to keep her bearings. So many people, and the room was so warm. They all crushed against her and Asher. She hung on to his hand, letting him lead her.
Jenny tried to look for Maxwell. Tried to pinpoint Titan and the FBI. She failed all around. Faces closed in on her from every direction. Well wishes were shouted at Asher. He climbed a flight of stairs, bringing her along in hand. At the top of the platform, the music changed again. The screens behind him spun red, white, and blue graphics. Spotlights began to gyrate as the lights went down.
The FBI had told her what would happen. But knowing and experiencing were two different things. She’d been onstage hundreds of times. But this was different. This was different from even the rallies and campaign stops they’d made leading up to election night. This was political pandemonium, and she’d always been a vaguely interested participant who supported the McIntyre family. She’d never been under this kind of limelight.
Asher raised their j
oined arms, and the room exploded in applause. He took a step back, giving her a nod and a grin before he pulled her into another kiss. The lip lock quieted the room, until he pulled back, and there was everyone else, louder than before.
With his arm around her, he gave her a hug and whispered, “You’re amazing. A pro. Soon as the speech is done, we’re out of here.”
She nodded. Smiled. Stepped to the side like she had been instructed to, so he could take the podium in front of the teleprompter. Asher was an orator. He didn’t need the screens to tell him what to say, but over the weeks, she’d realized he used them to stay on track.
“Thank you, New York State.” Cheers and applause thundered. Lights flashed. “I couldn’t have done this without you. The volunteers and voters who made this night happen…”
Jenny watched as he moved through the rehearsed words. She’d memorized it too. Knew when people would laugh. Expected when the crowd would nod. It was almost over. She and Asher stood on a stage, sitting like targets for Maxwell. But nothing.
Asher delivered his final line, and it was a home run, as she’d known it would be. The crowd began to chant. The balloons fell. Hundreds. Maybe thousands of patriotic-colored balloons fell from the ceiling. Silver, shimmering confetti mixed in. The lights blinked and flashed a spectacular light show.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. And Asher was on her arm again, leading her through the crowd.
Congratulations and shouts of support began all over again. The crowd overwhelmed her. People stepped on her shoes. Clapped on her back. Said things to her like they were old friends. And then the familiar face of Maxwell Bowie was inches from her nose. Smiling. Clapping. Reaching for her.
“Asher!”
He faced the other direction, still holding on to her hand. Her grip tightened, and her nails dug into his flesh. Everything turned to slow motion. Her words became heavy and slow. Asher turned, like in the movies, but her hand fell away. Hard hands took her elbows, and she was off her feet and moving away from Asher. Away from Maxwell.
“Move. Move. Move.” The voice bellowed from behind her.
Rocco. Titan.
“Asher!” Why had Rocco pulled them apart?
A collective gasp rolled behind her. Chaos and confusion bubbled. She tried to turn her head and see what was happening. The overhead lights turned on. And the music stopped. She could hear people rushing out of the room. What the hell was happening?
As Rocco rounded a corner, she could see several men piled together, as if they’d been tackling Maxwell or protecting Asher. Or guarding him? Had he been hurt? What had Maxwell done?
Jenny thrashed in Rocco’s arms. “Let me go! Where’s Ash?”
They entered a hallway behind the stage, and he carried her to a back room. Finally, he put her down, and she turned, ready to scream. Rocco’s face had blood on it. His shoulder. His hands.
“Christ,” he growled, scrutinizing his arm, then flicked his wrist to his mouth. “Tassels is secure.” Blood poured down his arm, and he dropped it.
She’d only heard them reference her codename once. But the ridiculousness of it paled in comparison to Rocco’s arm wound. “You need help. Tell them you’re hurt.”
He growled and felt around on his chest. “Does hurt like a mother bear, that’s for sure.”
Rocco’s breaths wheezed. Was it his chest too? God, there was a lot of blood. “You need help.”
“Not a chance.”
She looked at the floor. Blood stains pooled at his feet. There was way more blood coming off him than he either realized or would admit. “Call someone on your mic piece and tell them you’re hurt.”
He shook his head. “Orders are we do not move until we get the all clear.”
“Dang it, Rocco.” Stubborn men. “Then where’s Asher? What happened?”
“It’s fine. Hang tight.”
Rocco hadn’t said he’s fine. And why was Rocco bleeding? She hadn’t heard an explosion, no gunshot. “What about you? What happened?”
“Knife slice. Just need a few dozen stitches, and I’ll be fine.” He laughed and grimaced. “Oh, fuck me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t feel right.”
“You’ve lost too much blood.”
“No. Something else. Fuckin’ dizzy.” He took a deep breath, and his eyes unfocused. “I know blood… loss. Not it.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. His brow furrowed, and he stared at his arm, the blood. “Damn. It. Jenny,” he slurred. “Hallucinations.”
He started to disarm. One gun off his hip. Another off his leg. A holstered knife.
“Take them. Now.” Rocco leaned against the door. He pressed his mic to his mouth. “Knife wound. Poisoned. Tassels is unguarded.”
“I’m what?” Guns she was comfortable with. The knife, not so much. She stuck that in her pocket, tucked his compact Glock into her waistband, and kept the Smith & Wesson pistol in hand.
He batted his hand in front of his face as if swooshing away flies. “Fucking. Seeing shit.” He flinched. And again. “Get out of here.”
“Where should I go?” What had happened out there? She had to find Asher. Or maybe Jared or Murphy. Roman was out there too. Any of them could help Rocco and confirm Asher was fine. Someone would point her in the right direction. A cop or an agent. She was the senator’s girlfriend. That had to help her get where she needed to go and have her questions answered.
Rocco slumped out of the way, twitching.
“I’ll get help.”
***
“Enough already.” Asher shook off Murphy and Roman. “You got that fucker?”
They were in a large, loud boiler room adjacent to the ballroom.
Murphy nodded. “He’s in custody.”
“The plan wasn’t to separate me from Jenny unless—” someone was hurt. He blinked. “Where’s Jenny?”
Jared hung up the phone and motioned to Roman and Murphy. “We have a problem. Let’s go.”
“Was she hurt?” Asher growled into Jared’s face.
“No. Rocco got in front of the blade. Took it to the arm and chest.”
Asher could’ve felt like a bastard that he was relieved but didn’t care. “Where is she?”
“That’s the problem.”
“Explain the problem to me, so help me God.”
“Knife must’ve been tainted, treated with a psychotic. Rocco called it in as he started hallucinating. We found security footage. A cop escorted Maxwell onto the property and into the ballroom.”
Asher’s mind raced. “There’s a second man?”
“Roger that, Senator.” Jared headed to the door. “Roman, get to Rocco. Murphy, check in with your men. We’ve sent a screenshot and description for you to distribute.”
Jared and Roman left. Murphy picked up his phone and began issuing orders. Screw this. Asher walked out and went to find his girl.
He rounded corners and walked through a labyrinth of corridors. He tried her cell phone. No answer. Not a single cop or agent could be trusted, and he wished he’d seen the picture of the second man. Too late now.
At the end of the hallway, he came to a T. Roman and Jared might have split up. They might have known where Rocco had been and headed directly there. Asher went right. He had no reason. His phone rang. Murphy. Click and he sent the guy to voice mail. Murphy redialed him, and Asher was moving to find Jenny. No time to explain that he wouldn’t be cooped up in a boiler room.
He rounded another corner. Jenny! And she was holding a gun? “Sweetheart.”
She was walking with a cop who looked trustworthy, but Asher didn’t trust anyone. Jenny smiled, started toward him. Just as fast, the cop snaked an arm around her waist. Son of a bitch.
Jenny’s face screwed. Confusion and panic tore at her cheeks. Only twenty-five yards between them, but the distance suddenly felt like a mile.
“Let her go. You want me. You want to talk about the Bowie place, that’s fine. Let’s talk. Let her go.”
&nb
sp; The cop shucked the gun out of her hand. “You should have taken my brother seriously.”
A brother? How had this not been realized before? Asher stepped toward them. “Fine. My mistake. Not hers.”
“Like Max said, we lost something of ours. This is all about her and making sure you know how it feels to lose something.”
Ten feet was all that remained between them. “You won’t make it past me.”
“You and who else, asshole? Everyone’s running around pointing fingers at each other. No one knows who the dirty cop is.”
Jenny ripped her arm free and behind her. A gun clattered to the floor, and she kicked and pushed at it with her high heels. Asher dove for it as the other man raised a gun at him. He heard Jenny grunt, kick, and scream. A shot rang out, the ricocheting bullet pinging around Asher but not hitting. He had Jenny’s Glock. Who knew where she’d found two guns? Didn’t matter. Asher had aimed, and Jenny struggled in the Bowie brother’s arm. Her arms flayed, and she pulled a knife from her pocket, slashing at the man’s arm around her.
The Bowie brother hollered, releasing her, and Asher ran forward, punched him, relishing the snap of his jaw. Jenny dove behind Asher, and he pounced on the downed man, whipping him across the face with the gun. Bowie Brother was out cold.
Asher took a deep breath and turned to Jenny. Her eyes were wide, but she wasn’t bleeding and didn’t look hurt. “Sweetheart?”
She nodded.
“You okay?”
She nodded again.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and redialed Murphy. “Now you owe me, and I never want to hear ‘sir’ again.”
***
It was the middle of the night. The lights and sirens had long since disappeared. Titan and the FBI were gone. The news vans were even packing up after the crazy night of on-air reporting.
The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set Page 95
