by Rachel Grant
“Matt? What makes you think he can fight?”
“We’ve sparred a few times at JT’s gym.” This wasn’t exactly true. Matt refused to spar. He never gave a reason, but Sean suspected some of those training sessions in Mother Russia had been particularly brutal. Matt saved all his aggression for punching bags. He lifted weights and beat on the bags and basically worked out alone, never quite joining the group of men who gathered a few times a week during the hours JT reserved his gym just for them.
Raptor had a full gym at the Virginia compound, but JT’s gym was closer to both Sean’s home and the DC office. He’d been honored when he’d been included in the select group given free access to the private training times, and it was there his friendship with the men in this caravan had fully developed.
“My point is, we’ve got a badass group of men here. We’ll be fine.”
“Badass doesn’t save you from being mowed down by a car.”
“Which is why I want you to stay in the car if you are afraid. You’ll be safe there.”
“And I will never let a bunch of racist assholes control me.”
He lifted her hand, bringing the back to his lips. “Okay, then. It’s settled. We’ll join the counterprotest. Together.”
She nodded.
“I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you, Hazel. I’m your bodyguard, remember?”
“Bodyguard, boyfriend. I’m forgetting which one is the lie.”
She was joking, he knew, but after that kiss, he’d thought the same thing. One felt far more real than the other.
They reached the turnoff and drove the final miles to the town where the rally was being held on Main Street. The outskirts of town hadn’t aged well, but not surprisingly, the backdrop for Senator Small’s rally was a postcard-worthy historic district. They found parking with the others about two blocks from the main rally and gathered in the lot to discuss their approach.
“There’s a counterprotest across the street from the rally,” Rav said. “It was organized by a group that’s been mobilizing to fight Senator Small’s bill to shift county jail management to private corporations in economically depressed areas. My assistant is on the phone right now with the leader of that organization to let them know I’m here. We’re hoping they can send someone our way with signs for us to carry so we can march down the street as if we planned this and grab the spotlight from the senator in the middle of his speech—which is supposed to start in five minutes.”
Sean didn’t know the protocol of one senator crashing another’s rally, but he really liked the fact that Rav didn’t give a damn about politeness when it came to making a statement to white supremacists.
He’d always been proud to work for Raptor, but now, as he looked at the owner of the company, his boss, Keith, and his coworker Ian, he was glad these men were true allies, doing the right thing simply because it was the right thing. Not that he’d ever doubted it, but it wasn’t often he witnessed friends taking a stand when they could have quite literally driven by and looked the other way.
And on the way to Ian’s wedding, no less.
Minutes later, a car pulled into the lot and a Black man and two Black women jumped out. One of the women approached Rav, while the others pulled signs from the trunk of the sedan. “Senator Ravissant, I’m Hayley Hayes with the End Private Prisons Political Action Committee,” she said in a soft West Virginia accent. “We’re thrilled y’all are here and willing to march with us today. We figured our small counterprotest would get no coverage—which is one of the reasons the senator placed his rally in this overlooked part of the state. It was hard to get counterprotestors to show up on such short notice.” Her grin broadened. “And the fact that you have such a large entourage is, frankly, amazing.”
Rav shook her hand. “My assistant alerted me once she realized the rally was happening not far from our route. We don’t wish for the press to know our destination, so as far as interviews go, we’ll say we drove here specifically to attend the counterprotest.”
The woman nodded. “Your assistant let me know. We haven’t spoken with the press yet. We figured your entrance would draw the cameras and do the talking for you.”
“Perfect,” Rav said. “Ms. Hayes, this is my wife, Isabel.” He glanced around at the group and said, “It will take forever if we introduce everyone.”
The woman smiled at the group. “Hey, y’all. Just call me Hay Hay. With me are Donovan and Annelise.”
Donovan handed Sean a sign with the words RESIST HATE and said, “Thanks for showing up.”
“Same,” Sean said, shaking his hand.
Once the signs were passed out, they were ready to march. Hay Hay called a protestor at the scene and asked if five more protesters could meet them in the lot to march with them. That would bring their number up to twenty-four. Rav, Hay Hay, and Isabel would lead. There were only two news vans and one satellite truck to cover the rally. Once Rav was identified, the cameras would turn to him. The story of one senator crashing another’s rally was certain to be more newsworthy than the rally itself.
“As the only Black person in the senator’s entourage, are you willing to be interviewed on camera?” Hay Hay asked Sean.
“Yes. I’m a Raptor employee. I served in the US Navy for fifteen years and was a SEAL for ten.”
Keith dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Sean is our senior field operative. We keep offering him jobs in management, but he keeps refusing because he likes to be in the field, rescuing hostages and fighting terrorists who prey upon Americans abroad.”
Hay Hay’s eyes widened. “The press is going to love you.” She glanced at Rav. “You aren’t being paid by the company owner to attend this rally, are you?”
Sean laughed. “Hell, no.” His gaze flicked toward the street. They couldn’t see the rally, but he could hear the crowd and a distorted voice on a loudspeaker. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could guess at what the man was saying. “I believe in fighting terrorists who prey on Americans at home too.”
Hay Hay grinned. “You’re going to be perfect. Thank you for showing up.”
Sean nodded. “Thank you for everything you’re doing.” He wished his mom and Katrina were here. Katrina especially would love this, but healthwise, it would be a few months before she could handle this sort of event.
Additional marchers arrived, and they assembled by the road, waiting for their cue from the group assembled for the counterprotest across from the rally.
Once they received word the senator was at the podium, they set off down the street in a tight group. Security was light. Not a lot of people had been given advance warning of the rally, and given its remote location, few had been expected to attend beyond the buses of people the senator had arranged. Sean had noted the buses parked well out of view of the news vans and satellite truck.
They rounded the corner, at last coming into view of both the rally and counterprotest. The assembled protesters—at least fifty people, a better turnout than Sean had expected—let out a cheer that momentarily drowned out the crowd of two hundred who gave the senator their rapt attention.
Reporters’ heads turned and, a moment later, so did the cameras.
The senator droned on into his microphone, but he’d lost the attention he’d been aiming for—that of the press. Rav led the march straight to the area cordoned off for the counterprotest and took a place in the front with Isabel at his side, while the rest of their group tucked into the back, behind the protestors who’d given up a sunny fall Friday to be there. Sean also headed for the rear of the crowd, but Donovan caught his arm. “Nah, man. You should be up front.”
Hazel would have gone to the back with the others, but he threaded his fingers through hers. “You okay with being on camera?” he asked.
“With you? Of course.”
He smiled and leaned down and kissed her, not sure if he was playing a role in that moment or not. All he knew was it felt natural. Like breathing.
He took a spot by Rav
’s side as the reporters flocked, ignoring the senator who’d paid for this gathering in favor of the one who’d crashed it. “Senator Ravissant, what does it mean that you’re here?”
He held up his sign that said, “WHITE SILENCE IS VIOLENCE.” “It means I’m exercising my right to free speech as an American citizen. It means I’m adamantly opposed to Senator Small’s efforts for expanded privatization of American jails. African American communities are targeted by police the most and unjustly incarcerated the most. Senator Small’s policies are tantamount to modern slavery in which officers round up citizens on trumped-up charges, courts set bail rates impossibly high, ensuring citizens who have yet to be convicted of anything remain locked up. Then the owners of the jail force them to work for nothing in chain gangs to ‘pay for their upkeep.’ This happens to citizens who, more likely than not, have committed no crime. We need prison reform. We need bail reform. We do not need more privatized jails.”
“Thank you, Senator.” The reporter then turned to Sean and asked his connection to Rav.
They did a replay of his conversation earlier with Hay Hay, except Rav was the one who talked up his credentials.
The reporter’s eyebrows rose. “Mr. Logan, are you calling Senator Small a terrorist?”
“No, ma’am. I’m saying rallies like this are terrorist breeding grounds. This kind of rally emboldens bigots to commit hate crimes against people of color, LGBTQIA, and those of non-Christian faith. This country was founded on many different freedoms, among them freedom of association and freedom of religion. Senator Small advocates limiting those freedoms for those who are not white, male, straight, and Christian. I will not sit back and be silent when a man who has never served, whose wealth was built on the backs of slaves, seeks to reinstate slavery in the country I’ve fought and bled for.”
The reporter was in the middle of a follow-up question when someone off-camera said, “Is that former US Attorney General Curt Dominick?”
The reporters abandoned Sean and dove through the crowd to the back, where Curt and Mara held signs with the others. When questioned, Curt said he wasn’t hiding from the cameras, he merely didn’t want to draw attention away from the rally organizers and make the narrative about him. But since they insisted on placing a microphone before him, he asked that instead of running a “where is he now?” sort of piece on Curt’s presence at the rally that they focus on the issues raised by Senator Ravissant and that of concerned citizens like himself who’d taken time out of their day to show up and exercise their freedom of speech.
Follow-up questions on the Justice Department’s investigation into Senator Small’s business dealings were met with a stiff “I’m not at liberty to discuss investigations that occurred during my tenure as US attorney general.”
They were still interviewing Curt when the senator finished speaking, and not a single news camera had recorded the second half of his speech.
Sean couldn’t help but grin, knowing that had been the goal of this intervention in the first place. He slipped an arm around Hazel’s waist and twirled her around. It was such a small success, but satisfying nonetheless.
They returned their signs to Hay Hay. On the walk back to their cars, Senator Small glared at Rav. From the look on his face, it was clear he wanted to say something, but cameras were rolling, so the man said nothing.
It wasn’t until they were halfway down the block that Isabel slipped between Hazel and Sean. “Did you see him, Hazel?”
Hazel nodded. “He was next to the senator when we walked by just now. I was too focused on the interviews to see where he was during the speech.”
“He was next to the stage, on the steps to the side. Looking like he was providing security, but he has no jurisdiction here.”
“See who?” Sean asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Sheriff Taylor. He’s here, along with the deputy who was at the reservoir on Monday.”
13
After the rally, everyone was eager to keep moving and get to the inn, which was little more than an hour away. Hazel was tired but happy. She’d attended several of Alec’s campaign rallies when he ran for the Senate three years before, but hadn’t been to anything in the intervening years, having spent much of that time overseas. It was exciting. Exhilarating even, to be with like-minded people who were trying to create positive change. She’d forgotten what it felt like.
The people she worked with at ICMP were also trying to make a difference, but the work was the darker side of justice, where you only saw the horror humans commit, not the ways in which activists tried to make a difference by making their voices heard.
“I’m really glad we did that,” she said.
“Me too,” Sean said. He pointed to his phone in the console. “Since I’m driving, can you text my sister and tell her to turn on the news? She’ll get a kick out of it.”
“Sure.”
“Pass code or thumbprint?” She held out the phone to him.
He kept his eyes on the road and gave her the six-digit code. It was ridiculous that she got a little rush at the idea he trusted her with his pass code, but she did. Pathetic woman takes great joy in tiny signs of man’s interest. Click to read more. Her life was certain to become a hit limited series on Netflix.
She opened the address book. “Her name is Katrina?”
“Yes.”
“Found her. Tell me what you want to say.”
“Just say it’s you because I’m driving and to look for the rally on the news.”
She typed out a message and hit Send. A moment later the reply came.
Katrina: Thanks for letting me know! I’ll tell our mom too. So are you and Sean serious? I can’t remember the last time he introduced a girlfriend to the family, and I hear we’re all having dinner next week.
She laughed and tried to figure out the best reply.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just chatting with your sister.”
“Crap. I really should have thought that through. I should’ve used voice commands.”
“Yes. Yes, you should have.”
She typed a reply that wouldn’t set up any big expectations.
Hazel: I’m not sure about serious. Just seeing where this goes.
Katrina: Can’t wait to meet you. It’s about time Sean moved on after the fiasco in Grand Cayman.
Hazel jolted and let out a small gasp.
“What?” Sean asked.
“Nothing.” Her voice was a little higher pitched than usual. She stared at the screen. How to respond?
“I should probably mention that Kat is my twin. We’re close. But she tends to…overshare.”
Sean’s voice was nervous. She liked that. But still, she looked at him askance. She hadn’t even known he had a sister until Monday, and now she found out Katrina was his twin?
Hazel: I feel like I should tell you my full name. I’m Hazel MacLeod.
Odds were, even if Katrina hadn’t known her first name, she knew the fiasco had been Ivy MacLeod’s sister.
The reply was immediate.
Katrina: Oh shit.
Katrina: I’m going to claim chemo brain. Yes. Definitely chemo brain. Sean, when you read this, it was the chemo. Or, Hazel, maybe you can be a sweetheart and delete?
Hazel: I think you’re fine playing the chemo card.
Katrina: Finally chemo is good for something.
Hazel couldn’t help but laugh. She liked Katrina already.
Hazel: Hope you are feeling better.
Katrina: Much. Only one more round and I *should* be done. I can’t wait.
Hazel: I’m so sorry you’re going through this.
Katrina: It sucks. But Sean has been amazing. Really. He’s a great guy. And OMG, you are HER. Looking forward to dinner next week! (Now I’m REALLY looking forward to dinner…)
Hazel: Me too.
Katrina: Have fun at the wedding! I’m going to watch the news now. Looks like they’re about to talk about the rally. Ohh. Love your
hair. I can see why Sean is obsessed with you.
Hazel: Really? Tell me more.
Katrina: I think the baby’s crying. Gotta run. See you next week.
“How old are your nieces?” Hazel asked.
“Three and five.”
She smiled. Not exactly a baby, but close enough. She set the phone in a slot on the center console and turned in her seat to stare at the handsome man driving the large SUV. She was fascinated by everything about him. Was it possible he’d harbored some kind of crush on her?
She doubted it, but it sounded like she’d at least made an impression. A fiasco of an impression, but the words “move on after the fiasco” were strangely encouraging.
Katrina thought what had happened in Grand Cayman had been holding Sean back. Why? What had Sean told his sister?
The hotel room was going to be a problem. Not that it wasn’t perfect. It was. For a couple. But for Sean, who was on bodyguard duty for the next forty-eight hours, it would be a nightmare. At least the bed was big enough to share. It was a giant four-poster with gauzy curtains. Romantic. Made for sex.
And then there was the huge Jacuzzi tub adjacent to the bed. The tub could be in the bathroom, but no, this tub was in the center of the room so a couple could relax together in the hot, bubbling water and watch the sunset through the huge west-facing picture window that overlooked the lake.
Hazel oohed and aahed over the bed, tub, and window. “I think this might be the most gorgeous room I’ve ever stayed in.”
And the way the afternoon sun hit her hair, she was the most gorgeous thing in the room. He wanted to scoop her up, drop her on the bed, and finish the kiss they’d started several hours ago. He wanted to hear her call out his name as he made her come repeatedly. Then he wanted to soak in the tub with her before lifting her to the ledge, spreading her legs, and going down on her.
