“Understood, sir. Is there any news on Cillian and Declan’swhereabouts?”
“None at the moment. We’ve reached out to Interpol to see if they have any leads, and we’re digging through chatter within our own border. The Sons of Adam have been quiet lately, which Idon’tlike.”
Before she died, Valerie Hayes had been a leader and figurehead for that domestic terror group. Jamie knew there was a high chance that her secret marriage to Declan could have transferred that group’s loyalty to him. If Declan had the backing of that large of a terror group on top of the ex-Special Forces people who’d thrown their lot in with him, the trouble they could start would bedeadly.
“None of usdo,sir.”
“Report in after your meeting with your father,Callahan.”
“Yes, sir.” The uplink cut off and Jamie leaned his head against theseat. “Shit.”
“Pretty much,” Kyle said, eyes back on the road as hedrove.
Jamie’s skill in being able to fit together the smallest of details into a larger picture had aided him well on the battlefield and in maneuvering through his father’s political ambitions over the years. But his deduction skills weren’t enough to outmaneuver a precog who had past dealings with one of the terrorists on the run. Being at the enemy’s mercy wasn’t something any of themliked.
Kyle didn’t try to draw Jamie into a conversation on the drive to the Waldorf Astoria where Jamie’s parents were staying, for which he was grateful. He had enough on his mind as it was. His father’s political fundraiser tonight was a dinner event at The Signature Room at the 95th, a restaurant on the ninety-fifth floor of the historical John Hancock skyscraper. The campaign had reserved the entire restaurant for the private dinner, which started in a couple ofhours.
He was not looking forwardtoit.
Late-afternoon traffic was never enjoyable, but Kyle guided them through the mess with a sure hand while Jamie caught up on his emails on his personal tablet. Both of them were in suits for the fundraiser, their wool coats draped over the middle seat of the SUV. Kyle had stashed a gun in both the glove compartment and the front console that separated the seats. Jamie wasn’t letting Kyle carry a gun in the suit he wore since it would attract too much attention, but he hadn’t protested the ceramic knives Kyle had armedhimselfwith.
The Waldorf Astoria was located a block away from Chicago’s Magnificent Mile, the trendy area of Michigan Avenue. As they turned down the street where the luxury hotel’s entrance was, Jamie’s attention caught on a number of men and women in drab suits patrollingthearea.
“Those don’t look like your dad’s private security,” Kyle commented as he turned left into the privateentrance.
“Theyaren’t.”
Kyle drove into a small courtyard, maneuvering around the central raised garden platform to reach the sliding plas-glass doors where the valet and bellhop workers stood ready to assist. Mixed in amongst the hotel workers were a few more people in suits, their laser-like attention focused ontheSUV.
“Should I bring my gun?” Kyle asked as he set the parking brake and turned off theengine.
“No,” Jamie replied as he undid his seatbelt andgotout.
Kyle got out, code-keys in hand, and would have given them to the nearest valet, except one of the men in suits steppedforward.
“I’ll take that, sir,” themansaid.
“I don’t know you,” Kyle retorted as Jamie came aroundtheSUV.
Jamie placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, drawing him back a little. “Whoareyou?”
“Special Agent Hardison, sir,” the man calmly replied. “I’m with the United States SecretService.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow at that announcement, managing to keep the surprise off his face, if just barely. He shared a silent look with Kyle before the younger man relinquished thecode-keys.
“We can escort you to your family, sir,” a second specialagentsaid.
Jamie nodded stiffly. “Pleasedoso.”
The Waldorf Astoria was one of Jamie’s favorite hotels, the one he stayed in when he got invited to some of Katie’s family’s gatherings. This time, however, he barely noticed any of the grand design and elegant furniture inside the hotel’s stately walls, all his attention focused on the fact his father had Secret Service protection before becoming the official Republican nominee. While that wasn’t unprecedented, an early grant by the agency to deploy its special agents meant a credible threat had been made against his father and Jamie hadn’t beeninformed.
Jamie wasn’t pleased with thatdetail.
More Secret Service special agents patrolled the elevator banks and the short hallway on the twenty-sixth floor that led to the Presidential Suite. Jamie palmed open the door without knocking, stepping into the grand, two-bedroom suite with Kyle byhisside.
Charlotte Jacqueline Callahan,néeMontgomery, looked away from the aide updating her about something to do with the campaign to grace Jamie with a welcoming smile. “Hello,Jamie.”
“Mother,” Jamie said in a neutral voice as heapproachedher.
