Chapter Twelve
Longest three hours of my life before the surgeon emerges to brief me and let me know they’ll be bringing Kevin out soon. Meanwhile, Angie has held an emergency press briefing with the basics of what they know, and will conduct a full one at five p.m. in the White House. All other questions are being directed to the FBI and Secret Service.
I refuse to give anon-camera statement because, honestly? I’m not sure I can without crying, and there’s a fine point between moving others to emotions and looking like a guy trying to capitalize on a situation.
Since no one knows about Kev’s true relationship to us, I’m worried Prophet would yell at me for giving a live statement this soon when I can’t control my emotions. My office issues a brief statement throughAngie’s office.
Once Kevin’s out of surgery, he’s moved straight into a private room right off the ICU that’s usually an isolation room for infectious cases. Because of the circumstances, I’m allowed in there, with my detail.
I sit there, cradling Kevin’s glasses and portfolio in my hands and unable to believe this turn of events.
That’s when his dick of a father shows up.
I’ve already beenwarned by the head of my detail that he was inbound, and given the option to keep him out, but I tell them to let him through.
I’m still pissed I have to share this vigil with the man when I know how Kev really feels about him.
And about how basically he’s the main reason Kev and I couldn’t be together years ago.
This is nothing more than optics for the guy, and I fucking damn well know it.
But the optics look worse—for me and Shae, and in turn, Elliot—if I ban him from the hospital.
Keep in mind Kev hasn’t seen his father in person, much less spoken with him, in five years now. Not since the night the fucker showed up at the townhouse a few weeks after Shae’s first election.
Representative Edwin Markos’ bellowing voice precedes him in the hallway, sending the Secret Service detailin the room snapping into alert readiness as he thunders through the door.
He looks at me, a dark glare filling his muddy brown eyes before he hooks a thumb over his shoulder, his meaning clear. “You.Out.”
I tip my head back, looking away from him and back at Kev before I speak. “Fuck you, old man,” I quietly say.
If it wasn’t for the way the four suits step in, two of them directly in frontof me, I’m sure the man would have laid hands on me.
Instead, he sneers. “You’rethe reason my son’s dying. You and that goddamned bitch wife of yours.Out.”
I don’t raise my voice. “He’s critical, but stable. And I said fuck. You.”
Fuck optics—Kev ismyboy. Edwin Markos lost any claim to Kev the night I met him in Daytona and made him mine.
Apparently no one’s ever told him no before, becausethe old bastard doesn’t give up. “I wasn’t asking—I wastelling. Get out. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t give a shit you’re married tothatwoman—I’ll have you thrown out of this hospital. You’renothis family.”
ThefuckI’m not.
I’m more family to Kev than this bastard is.
I still don’t raise my voice. “I have a notarized durable medical power of attorney that says otherwise,old man. It also meansIcan haveyouthrown out. Don’t think I won’t, either, Congressman Markos.”
Game set and match. Under the circumstances, I take little satisfaction in the way his eyes bug and his jaw gapes. “What! I’m hisfather!”
Yeah? Well, he’smyboy.
That’snotwhat I say, obviously.
I settle back in my chair and drop my voice, finally looking his way. “Then I guess you shouldn’thave been a dick to him, huh? Maybe you should have made an effort to repair your relationship with him. You haven’t seen him infivedamnyears. He’smybest friend, mybrother. I know your son far better than you could ever hope to, which is why he askedmeto hold his power of attorneyyearsago. You want his attorney’s number? He’ll back me up on this. So I suggest you settle your shit down,right now, and slow your roll before I ask these eager gentlemen to escort you out of the building. Because my wife happens to be POTUS, they’re itching for an ass to beat, and I’m sure she’d issue pardons to all of us for beating your ass.”
