“Listen, I called you directly because I don’t think Sutton Smith or my father should be in charge of how things go between you and I.”
“I agree,” Blayze said with a nod.
“I’m not a child, after all.”
Blayze remained quiet after that one; of course, she wasn’t a child.
“Anyway, I want to establish something.”
“Okay.”
It was hard to picture the woman he’d seen at the funeral. Sure, the accent was the same, but this was a whole new approach. No soft words of sympathy. She was all about business, and she wanted to be heard.
“Now,” she continued, “I only agreed to accept protection for the remainder of this campaign, which runs through the rest of October and wraps up November 5th. So that’s approximately two-and-a-half weeks.
“I’ll be traveling throughout the county, working long and late hours, and I’ll be separated from the majority of the campaign team in the process.”
Blayze kept quiet, only nodded in encouragement, though she couldn’t actually see it.
“We’ll stay the first night in my home. I have the guest room ready for you. From there we’ll stay in hotels, a penthouse—same kitchen and living space—with our own bedrooms.”
“Sounds good.”
“And whatever happens,” she said, voice stern. “I don’t want anything hidden from me. If you, Roman, or my father come across anything, I want to be notified as soon as possible, okay?”
He grinned, unleashing his calm, negotiator voice. “Absolutely. I’d never dream of holding something of relevance from you.”
“And one last thing. I don’t like missing events. If at all possible, I’d like to attend every speaking engagement on the schedule, and there are a lot.”
“Okay,” he encouraged, sensing a greater point ahead.
“The thing is, the packages have been coming every two weeks. And if the pattern continues, I’ll be getting one this Friday.”
“That’s right.” This wasn’t news to Blayze; he had an entire map sketched out of what they might expect in the weeks ahead.
“’Course, who knows where they’d deliver it since I’ll be traveling... Anyway,” she said sharply. “If I do get one on Thursday, it might be a whopper. And I might even want to back down, which I can’t imagine happening. But even if I step away from a few of them, there’soneevent—well, there are kind of two—but there’s atleast onethat I absolutely refuse to miss, and that’s the evening before the voting booths open, November 4th. It’s our last chance to really raise awareness among voters who don’t think about it until it nears. And since this isn’t a presidential year, the local networks will be broadcasting live.”
Since talking to Sutton earlier, Blayze had looked into the role of a district attorney. It was no wonder people were voted in rather than assigned. Turned out, DAs held a whole lot of power in the judicial system.
“Okay, so you don’t want to miss any of the engagements,” Blayze repeated, “but if something comes up and we have to make cuts, the event on November 4this off the table.”
“No, it’sonthe table.”
Blayze smiled, wondering if she were just being coy. “Removing itoffthe table is off the table then.”
She chuckled, the sound warming his insides in a blink. “That’s correct.” Even those two short words sounded so uniquely… like her; the accent suited her and—if he were honest—toyed with him in a way he couldn’t grasp.
The line stayed quiet for a blink. And though he wasn’t in the same room as Ms. Vasco, Blayze could nearly feel the shift in her energy. Similar to that of a freshly deflated balloon. Tension drained. Defenses down. Calm taking over.
“Ms. Vasco,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for making yourself clear.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think we’re going to get along great.”Hopemight have been a more accurate word, but he needed to keep his best foot forward.
