“No,” I say, not that the agent was about to do it in the first place. “They’re notallowed to leave me. You go find your own damn chair and drag it in here, asshole. They’re not here foryou.”
John disguises his laughter as a cough.
I know that’s what he’s doing, because I heard him cough exactly like that more than once when we worked The Shift together.
Hell, I can’t count how often I’ve coughed like that myself.
“Apparently they damn sure weren’t here for my son, either.”
I feel all of them tense again, the very air in the room shifting as they lean in, waiting for the word from me. We’re brothers in this way, and they know I won’t rat them out if they lay hands on the guy.
“Either get your own fucking chair, or get the hell out of here,” I say. “Because you are about to talk yourself into an interrogation session I’d be happy to view the highlight reel of ata later time.” I stand, and that’s when the guy finally realizes I’m two inches taller than him and have at least thirty pounds more solid muscle than him, not to mention about twenty-five years to the younger. “And I’ll be happy to throw your ass out of here personally, Congressman Markos.” I offer a chilly smile. “Just give me a reason.”
After finally processing the expressions on the facesof the men surrounding me, the asshole finally seems to understand the odds are against him. He turns, retreating into the hallway where we all hear him angrily ranting to staff about needing a chair and wanting to talk to a doctor.
They might help him with the first, but they won’t help him with the second. I’ve already left strict orders I am theonlyone who will receive information aboutKev’s condition, and only I will release that information to others.
John leans in as I retake my seat. “Just say the word,” he murmurs. “Please.”
“Believe me, I might.”
* * * *
Shae texts me an hour later.
How is he?
I know this is hard on her, too. She loves Kev as much as I do, but she’s in a spectacularly vulnerable position in terms of PR, not to mention logistics. She has toreact as if he’s a beloved family friend and treasured staff, not the third in our bed. We can’t screw things up for Elliot.
I’m guessing she’s probably on Air Force One. As soon as word of the attack blasted over the radios, her heels likely didn’t touch the ground as the agents working The Shift grabbed her and bolted for The Beast to get her to the airstrip and in the air. It’s SOP for situationslike this, especially when we don’t know if it’s a one-off attack or part of a larger plan, a distraction.
Although, at this point, it’s looking more and more like an idiotic lone gunman, maybe an FNB die-hard sheeple who probably thinks Fox News is too liberal, if the news reports I’m seeing are close to accurate.
Except they probably aren’t accurate. They rarely are this soon, and I haven’teven been briefed yet.
I have made a point of ignoring the man occupying the other chair in the room, a man who quickly realizes I absolutely meant what I said about not releasing any information—or control—to him.
Still, my thumbs hesitate over my phone’s screen before I respond. Said response will be kept as brief as possible. We’re always cognizant that, especially in times like this, someonewould love to intercept our personal communications. If that ever happens, we need to make sure they’re as banal as possible.
Unchanged.
Kev would kick both our asses if we blow this over him, I know he would. He’s vested too much of his own energy into this venture with us. Maybe it started with me forcing him into it, but the kiss he laid on me that night when we realized yes, Shae haddone it, will forever remain etched in my memory.
My gaze lifts, staring at the monitors marking his life, before settling on his face. On the ventilator tube pumping air into his lungs. The scrape on his forehead where he hit the ground after diving between me and death.
The IV bags dripping fluids and antibiotics and pain and sedation meds into his veins.
My boy.
And, right now, all I wantto do is curl up next to him in that bed and sob, and I can’t.
Not even because of Congressman Edwin Markos sullenly glaring at me from less than ten feet away.
But because it would piss Kev off if I break the act and risk Shae’s reputation. Because my boy has, somehow, perfectly encapsulated what a chief of staff to POTUS should be.
Because of him, and the hard work, the sweat and tears—andliteral blood—he poured into Shae’s career, she hit the pinnacle.
I mean, professionally, where do you go from here without running for office yourself?
You don’t.
He would kick my ass for jeopardizing things, and I couldn’t even be mad at him for it.
If only he were awake eyes open and able to glare at me for possibly risking everything, I’d gladly take every bit of it and more.
Just toknow he’ll be all right.
Because if my boy isn’t all right?
I don’t know if I can live with myself.
