Chapter 2
Blake Taylor
The phone rings and as I swipe a finger across the screen, I notice the time. At two in the morning, even most bars are closed. Nothing good happens at this hour.
My hand shakes as I bring the plastic to my ear. “H-Hello?”
“Blakely? It’s Slate. Jack is fine but there was an accident.”
My heart races as I jump out of bed and throw on a pair of yoga pants. “How bad?”
“A head wound and a few bruises but he didn’t want you to hear it on the news. He was driving the senator back to Pennsylvania.”
“Where is he now? Can I talk to him?” I put my phone on speaker and throw it on the bed so I can hear while I put a sweatshirt on. I don’t even bother to tie my sneakers as I rush into the bathroom and pee.
“They’re getting him stitched up and will probably keep him overnight. He told me to tell you to stay put.”
“Uh-uh. What hospital is he in?” I grab my purse and car keys simultaneously opening Google maps on my phone. At this hour, I can be there when he wakes up.
Slate sighs heavily. “I’ll pick you up in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting out front.”
As I pace the lobby of my apartment building, I try not to worry but I know most of the guys at Patten Securities. Ex-military, they got a different mentality about wives and girlfriends than most people. They’d tell me everything was fine even if Jack was on his last breath. Dammit. I need to see for myself.
For about the zillionth time, I curse the stupid fight we had after he rescued me last summer. If he’d answered just one of my calls, none of this would’ve happened. He’d have a job in New York and I wouldn’t be on my way to DC, wondering if he’ll still be breathing when I get there.
I put my hand on my baby bump.Don’t worry hun, Daddy’s going to be just fine.
When a SUV with tinted windows pulls up to the curb, I wave at Pat, the security guard, and he buzzes me out the door. “Take care.”
Slate hops out of the vehicle, comes around front, and gives me a hug. “Get in. He really is fine…Shit.Jack is going to kill me.”
“If you rather, I can drive myself. It’s only a couple hours.” I settle down in the passenger seat and buckle up while he scoots behind the wheel.
“It’s more like four, six if you hit rush hour.” He eases onto Fifty Seventh, heading for the FDR drive. “Grayson’s coming, too. We’re taking his jet.”
So, I was right. Jack may not make it through the night. My whole world starts to crumble, tears sting my eyes, and I stare out the side window so Slate won’t see.
“Hey, hey, It’s not like that. I swear, Jack’s fine. It’s this thing with McAlister. It’s high profile and Grayson’s taking a personal interest.” Slate drives silently for a while, his body language giving nothing away.
My husband is one of the best in the business. I can’t imagine anyone catching him off guard. “What the hell happened, Slate?”
After turning north onto the FDR, he glances over, face grim. “Someone tried to run him and the senator off the road. Jack’s vehicle hit the guard rail, it damaged the back tire, and he had to pull off the highway. There were shots fired. Jack killed three of the guys but during the gunfight, a bullet grazed his head.”
The oxygen inside the car gets thin and I roll down the window with a shaky hand. The thought of losing Jack before we even get our life started knocks the wind out of me. What if I never again feel his lips on mine, see his gentle smile, or feel the strength of his embrace?
Slate gives me a worried look, the kind men do around pregnant women. “What’s this? No tears. Jack wouldn’t even need the hospital but head wounds tend to be ah… messy. He’ll be fine once they get some fluids in him.”
I let him drive in silence while my mind spins in a million directions. Finally, I can’t help but ask, “Why is someone after Senator McAlister?”
He sighs deeply. “We’re not exactly sure but we think it has to do with the vaccine bill. Nothing else controversial is up for vote until next year.”
I try to remember the details of the new bill. It came into being because a bad batch of flu vaccine killed a couple of children in California. “Even if they kill the senator, won’t it still pass? Everyone knows it’s a slam dunk.”
Slate merges into traffic and follows the signs toward the George Washington Bridge. “Grayson isn’t so sure. He says if the senate procrastinates long enough, people will forget.”
“Forget China sent us poison instead of vaccine?”
