“Should I schedule lunch with?—”
I shake my head. No. I don’t want a scheduled lunch—I don’t even want to be here at all today.
My duty is a smoke screen. I’m so deep in with Echelon Vanguard it’d take an act of war or the president himself to remove me from office. Their parties, bills, committees—most of it a waste of time. Oh, how naive I was. Thinking I could make a difference in education in Washington. EV may be the problem here in Chicago, but the problem in this country … sits in D.C.
Leaning down, I grab a pen and scribble my signature on the paperwork, then hand it to the man patiently waiting.
“I’ll get this sent over. And let me know if you want lunch. I’ll order in. And don’t forget your grandfather.”
I snarl at him as he ducks out and closes my office door. With the click of several keys, I type in my password and fire up my computer ready to tackle some emails. My screen dings, showing that someone sent a secure message to my EV account.
It’s from Graves.
Where the hell is V? Have you seen this?
He attaches a news article by none other than Piper Reeves herself.Power, Privilege, and Silence: Is Chicago Hiding a Shadow Network?
Ignoring Graves, I pull up a secure message thread to Vaughan.
Slade: The Eight are getting impatient. Feel like coming home soon?
His response is instantaneous.
V:So … he sent you to beg?
Slade: Strongly persuade. They get unhappy when you’re gone too long.
V: They need better leverage.
Slade: Leverage? Pretty sure Graves owns you. He wants the Cleaner back.
V: I like the solitude of the island. Learned how to fish.
Slade: Fish? Hell, V. Graves won’t be happy until you’re back gutting for him. What are you trying to do? Retire?
V: Call it survival.
I send him the link to the article Graves sent me and close out my messages instead of waiting for his reply. He’ll come home. He’s addicted to his job. Craves it. And Graves knows how to leverage that, leverage him. God help us all when he decides he’s had enough.
It doesn’t matter how much work I get through, the day drags, and by the time Elliot returns for the end-of-day briefing, my mind has wandered.
Did she leave full and rested? Did she make it back okay?
I texted Edmond this morning to tell him to go with her. In the short time she was at the lake house, she seemed to cling tohim. Looking at him for instruction, thanking him, and smiling in his direction.
It shouldn’t matter. Not like this. But I wanted her to be comfortable, not to worry on the ride back if the guards would take advantage.
Thea.
Knowing her name should’ve been passing knowledge like the others. But it’s festering, and I can’t shut off the desire to know her more.
Why this one has crawled under my skin is—doesn’t matter—it’s inconvenient. There. Like a lingering cough after a severe cold.
The club permits EV members at any time during the week. Security is there twenty-four seven, and the bar is available. Cigar rooms, parties, business dealings—it all happens there throughout the week. I never go, choosing to stick only to my Friday night obligations. But I could go tonight.Would I see her?
I could go. Just this once. To check.
Realizing I missed everything Elliot was reporting on, I gesture at him to type it all up in an email and send it to me.
