“Don’t call me ma’am. I get enough of that nonsense from other people.”
Chuckling, he said, “Thanks for calling. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“Wow,” Nick said to Terry, who walked into the office as he was ending the call. “Sam has detained Gretchen’s ex-husband with questions about Ivanov.”
“Isn’t that interesting?” Terry said. “Maybe he caught wind of Gretchen reconciling with an old flame and decided to eliminate the competition.”
“If we can pin this murder on someone who has nothing to do with me, the better it’ll be for our relationship, such as it is, with Petrov.”
“You really think it was someone besides him?” Graham asked.
“Not at all. I’m almost completely certain it was ordered by him.”
“I’m going to head home and take the temperature of my wife on this amazing offer you’ve made us,” Graham said.
“Let me know what she has to say.”
“You’ll be the first to know, my friend.”
Nick shook his hand.
“Thank you again for asking me. It means a lot.”
“I need you.”
Graham winced. “Way to twist the knife.”
“Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their president,” Nick said with a grin as he recited an old saying that usually ended with their party or their country.
“Well played, Mr. President,” Graham said with a chuckle. “Very well played. I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll be here.” Nick watched Graham leave with the Secret Service agents who’d drive him home, hoping beyond hope that the retired senator could persuade his wife to take one more tour of duty on behalf of their country.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Memphis had insisted they not stop for the night so as not to drag out the suspense any longer than necessary. Jesse insisted on frequent breaks so she could get out and move around.
“Are you stalling because you’re afraid to deal with what you might find there?” she asked as he walked her around inside a giant Circle K truck stop. They were three hours from Lewisburg.
“I’m not stalling. I’m making sure you don’t have a setback by sitting still for too long.”
“I’m fine. Are you?”
Normally, Jesse would come up with some sort of bullshit to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. But she didn’t let him get away with that crap, and for some reason that defied logic, he didn’t want to disappoint her. “Define ‘fine.’”
“I can’t begin to know what this must be like for you—wanting to be hopeful, but afraid to open that door, while bracing for a million possible outcomes.”
“That about sums it up.”
“It’s torturous, and it makes me hurt for you.”
“Don’t hurt for me. You’ve had enough pain to last awhile.”
“Your pain is my pain.” She looked up at him under the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights. Weeks after her devastating injury, she was still far too pale for his liking and had shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there before she was shot. Even so, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “That’s how this works.”
Right there in the middle of the store, he hugged her, closing his eyes as he took comfort from her steady presence, filled with gratitude to have her on this journey with him. “Thanks for not dying. I’m not sure I would’ve survived it.”
