At the Pleasure of the President Read online

  Sara sighed. “I wouldn’t know. I’ll go find my sad bottle of water.”

  Gus gave her a grin. “Well, I did have the chef send up food. We’ve got all kinds of delicious apps and a whole tray of macarons.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Gus,” Sara said, pushing her way through the door.

  Gus’s grin turned down as she looked at Liz. “Please tell me you’re not hesitating to spend time with us. We’ve been your friends for a long time. I know Everly and Lara are new to the group, but…”

  “I’m not a wife or a fiancée. And I’m not pregnant with anyone’s baby.” In fact, Liz wasn’t sure where she and Zack were heading. When they made love, she felt so close to him…but she also sensed some hesitation on his part. Despite being with her—and on her—all the time, he still had some barrier up between them. She couldn’t pinpoint why.

  “But you will be,” Gus said with a congenial pat on the back. “And since you two are constantly getting busy, it probably won’t be long before he slips up and gets you pregnant. Come on. Don’t you want to know what’s going on with the investigation? Trust me, the guys are downstairs right now, examining all the information they’ve collected, thinking they were so smart for leaving us delicate flowers out of the discussion. But I started planning this the minute I heard Everly was back.”

  Trust Gus to be one step ahead.

  Liz followed her friend through the door because she did have a couple of questions. “Why would they leave us out? Gabe took Everly with him to Moscow, right?”

  A nice blaze burned in the gorgeous fireplace and, sure enough, a hearty buffet had been laid out. Since Liz had skipped dinner, she was grateful Gus had ordered enough for everyone.

  At the sound of her name, Everly glanced up from her plate as she sat next to Holland on a couch that had probably been a gift from some past foreign leader. “Oh, he took me along but when it got the slightest bit dangerous, he started arguing that I should stay behind in the hotel room and do ‘research.’ I won that argument, by the way.”

  “Those men are downstairs doing what they always do,” Holland explained with a wave of her hand. “Getting their stories straight. It’s an old habit that needs to die hard.”

  “They used to do it as a way to stay out of trouble. Well, as much as possible.” Sara stood at the buffet, a plate in her hand. “Now they do it in an attempt to keep all of you out of trouble. Their words, not mine.”

  Lara took the vodka from Gus and started pouring it into a shaker. “I’m used to it. Connor tells me most stuff, but I’ve decided to be serene about the whole killing thing. You have to love the whole man, and for me that means loving the fact that he’s good at assassinations. He’s promised me he only kills truly evil people and he uses very kind methods. Do you want a martini?”

  Liz felt as if she could surely use one. “Please. Can someone explain how not talking to us keeps us out of trouble?”

  Holland shook her head. “It doesn’t, but they think it does. I assure you right now Dax assumes I’m on our sofa cuddled up with a book, and when he comes home later tonight, he’ll give me whatever version of the truth they’ve decided on. It could be the actual truth if cooler heads prevail. Who knows?”

  “Connor always wants to lay it out there,” Everly continued. “Dax usually votes with him. The others…always a guess.”

  Lara gave her a serene smile. “I trust Connor to keep me in the loop. He takes care of the bad guys in a physical manner while I deal with them intellectually.”

  Gus poured herself a Scotch. “Lara and Connor have a deal, and she’s never broken it. She didn’t follow him on his recent jaunt to South America like some of us would have.”

  Sara sat, settling her plate on the table beside her. “Followed him? Why would you do that? He’s a trained operative. And don’t try to tell me he was some pencil pusher at Langley. We all knew he was a spy.”

  “I didn’t,” Lara said. “Not until someone told me. I was blinded by love.”

  “I would totally follow Dax,” Holland argued. “If he was going into something dangerous and he tried to leave me behind, I would be on his ass in a heartbeat. He’s been captaining a ship for years, not hunting down criminals and terrorists. And honestly, he’s taken enough bullets that I question his ability. I think he’s really the beauty in our relationship.”

  Everly leaned toward her. “That’s what I say about Gabe. When was the last time my husband had to tackle a corporate spy, much less a real one? I did that a couple of months back, though it was more like I tripped over him because he wasn’t very coordinated. Anyway, they know the situation we’re dealing with is dangerous and they’re doing their ‘man feelings’ circle thing and figuring out how much they risk telling us.”

  “But we can’t go off on our own,” Sara argued. “This is exactly why Mad claims he broke up with me and faked his own death. It’s ridiculous.”

  “I agree that it was on the extreme side.” Gus sat across from Sara. “But I understand how he thinks. He panicked that night because he’s never had to deal with vicious threats, much less actual physical violence. It must have been hard for him. I remember almost losing Roman, and I would have done or said anything to stop it from happening.”

  “It’s not the same,” Sara said, then went quiet as she sat back.

  “I guess I can’t know, huh? I only know how it felt for me.” Gus glanced Everly’s way. “So what exactly did you and Gabe discover in Moscow?”

  “That Russians are tight-lipped,” she replied. “We couldn’t get anyone to go on record, but we did learn there are several syndicates with close ties to the Kremlin, and yes, the Krylovs are one of them. We met with a member of a rival syndicate, someone higher up who Connor put us in touch with.”

  Sara’s jaw dropped. “Gabe let you meet with a member of the Russian mob?”

  Everly shrugged. “He didn’t have much of a choice. And Dusan was surprisingly charming. Not once did he pull a gun on me. He’s concerned about Krylov getting too much power. Apparently his group is more into oil than natural gas. Stealing it, that is.”

  “What did he have to say?” Liz took the martini Lara had concocted for her, gripping the cool glass like it was a lifeline.

  In a way it was. She couldn’t forget Zack’s hollow expression when he’d come to her the night before. It still haunted her.

  What would you say if I wasn’t Zack Hayes?

  He had to be. He was. No matter what came from this complicated tangle of political blackmail and espionage, he was exactly who she’d always thought he was.

  “Dusan told me and Gabe that he’d asked some of the older men about the incident. None of them actually knew Natalia, but it was no secret the Kremlin often placed women—or men—in the households or hotel rooms of foreign dignitaries as assistants or domestic help. Often, the syndicates procured these people. We already know there’s a connection between the Krylovs and Tavia Gordon’s foundation, except back then, her mother was running the organization,” Everly explained. “Those ‘workers’ were really captives and sex slaves used to spy or gain blackmail material on the men and women whose households they’d been placed in. Dusan wasn’t at all surprised that we believe Frank had an affair with Natalia. Seducing him was likely her mission.”

  “But did she have a baby by him?” Lara asked.

  That was one question they were all desperate to have the answer to.

  Everly’s lips thinned as though she knew what she had to say would disappoint everyone. “On the few records we were able to locate, the baby’s father was listed as Natalia’s husband, but who knows the truth? When we tried to track down people who had known her all those years ago to corroborate that possibility, we discovered they’d all died. Mysterious circumstances.”

  Liz winced. Another damn dead end. That would kill Zack.

  “I’m sorry.” Everly squeezed her hand. “I know it’s maddening, but Dusan says he’ll keep digging for us.”

  Awesom
e. The future of the country might depend on a Russian mobster.

  “Not to add to the problems, but we’ve had another potential one arise.” Liz hoped this was the right forum to talk about her concern. Zack hadn’t acted like he cared much. In fact, he’d brushed her worries off entirely. “I’m wondering if we should pull the interview Gus and Roman are supposed to give this weekend because Joy’s father showed up yesterday. He wasn’t very happy about the way Lara’s story made Joy look, and he threatened to fight back in the press.”

  “Before we get to that, let’s talk about Joy.” Gus’s eyes slid shut. When she opened them, Liz saw real pain there. “As much as I don’t want to, I think we have to start looking objectively at everyone around us, even Joy. We don’t have any proof that she was involved in anything, but what other young female family member could have taken Constance from that facility without someone alerting Frank Hayes?”

  “But the woman who left with her that night was a blonde, according to the files,” Holland argued.

  “It’s not hard to put on a wig.” Gus sighed. “But I can’t figure out why she would have procured Constance a rental and a bunch of booze and let the woman’s addiction do the rest. I can’t think of a single reason Joy would have wanted Constance dead.”

  Everly shrugged. “Maybe someone paid that nurse at the hospital to say it was a family member, but it wasn’t?”

  “Maybe.” Gus sipped her drink. “We’ll never know. But there’s also the fact that Joy had decided to work with Tavia’s foundation if she became FLOTUS.”

  “You can’t think that makes her guilty of anything. Everyone thought the foundation was a good cause until they were exposed,” Sara argued.

  “True. And maybe I’m jumping at shadows now,” Gus admitted. “Liz, did she ever say anything you found suspicious?”

  She’d gone over those conversations a million times in her head. “No, but I have to be honest, I only accompanied Joy to a couple of those meetings with Tavia, and only because I wanted to make sure no one put pressure on Joy. She seemed so fragile most of the time. But I remember her telling me that if she became the First Lady, she wanted to concentrate on women and girls and gaining more opportunities for them.”

  “I wonder if she had any idea the foundation’s mission was to find opportunities for those girls to get trafficked?” Gus mused. “I keep asking myself…if Joy was somehow involved in this mess, why? Why would she do it?”

  Holland crossed the room to sit by Gus and take her hand. Of all the people here, those two had been closest to Joy. They’d been sorority sisters together. They’d remained close even after they’d pursued their own careers. “I don’t know. And I don’t even see how it’s possible. I thought I knew her so well. But if—and it’s a big if—Joy was a sleeper agent, she would have been well trained, and we met her when we were young and things like treason had never crossed our minds. So we can’t blame ourselves for anything we might have missed.”

  “Still, she may have genuinely cared about you. There are complexities and nuances to every relationship,” Liz pointed out.

  “But if she was a sleeper, then she probably lied to us,” Gus replied. “For years.”

  “Maybe. About some things.” Lara seemed willing to embrace Liz’s line of thought. “But then again, maybe this is moot. All the evidence is merely circumstantial. But what are the odds those coincidences mean anything? Joy was born in the States. She wasn’t smuggled over from Russia. Why would she work for them?”

  “That’s a valid question,” Gus said. “She didn’t need the money, and she’d never done a blackmail-worthy act in her life. I think she was even a virgin when she and Zack married. So if she was a sleeper, she would have been indoctrinated by her parents.”

  “Paul Harding has always been wily and ambitious, which is another reason to be scared of whatever he’s planning. He visits Frank, you know,” Liz pointed out. “Regularly.”

  “Do you think it’s possible he’s plotting to use Zack’s father in some scheme? Or…could they possibly be plotting together?” Gus looked shellshocked by that new and horrifying possibility, kind of like Liz felt. “I know Frank hasn’t seemed capable of remembering what year it is for some time, but—”

  “What if it’s an act?” Liz finished her thought. “I caught him wandering into the Treaty Room recently. Zack likes to use it as his office away from the Oval. What if he’s spying on Zack and has been for years?”

  “Roman thinks someone is.” Gus leapt to her feet and paced. “He won’t talk to me about it, and that scares me. All right. We need to be smart about this. Someone needs to figure out if Frank’s illness is real, and we damn straight need to know what Paul is up to.”

  “I’ll start tracking Joy’s father,” Holland said. “I’m going to follow him wherever he goes for the next week or so.”

  “Excellent.” This was what they needed. A plan. “I’ll do the same with Frank. Gus and I are here all day long.”

  Gus sent her a conspiratorial wink. “We can shadow him and that head nurse of his. Frank gave us fits and acted up until all the others quit. But this guy seems to have the magic touch. How is that possible?”

  Good question. Liz had wondered that herself. If Frank was spying on Zack, he would need someone to be his eyes and ears, someone everyone else would overlook, since Frank wasn’t very mobile on his own.

  “Connor and I are re-checking the Secret Service agents.” Lara crossed her legs in a ladylike pose. “Freddy and I are also tracking some people on the Deep Web. I’ll let you guys know if we find anything. Oh, and we discovered that the vice president does, in fact, have some past indiscretions that definitely make him vulnerable to blackmail. Do you remember the stories about his brother having a love child by his mistress years ago?”

  “Yes, it showed up in oppo.” Opposition research was a nasty but necessary part of life in politics. It referred to a candidate’s team investigating the opposition for any nastiness that would help in a campaign. In this case, she’d run the same types of investigations on all of the men and women they’d considered for Zack’s under ticket. Wallace Shorn had been clean; his brother…not so much. Ernest Shorn had a second family, one that hadn’t included his wife. “But he hasn’t been close to his brother in years. We didn’t see how that could touch Wallace.”

  “A deeper dive seems to reveal a different story. Wally paid his ‘estranged’ brother half a million dollars right before he kicked off his campaign. Did you know that?” Lara asked, proving that despite her ethereal sweetness, she could find the dirt. “Even more digging suggests that Ernest was on a lengthy trip to Europe when the mistress’s second child would have been conceived. That kid was only seven pounds when he was born, so there’s no way she had an eleven-month pregnancy or something crazy. That most likely makes Ernest a liar.”

  Liz felt her whole body flush. Son of a bitch. “Wallace, too, it seems.”

  Lara nodded. “It looks like he’s been paying Ernest to shoulder all the responsibility. Why else would he have paid another million and a half dollars since that first payment to a brother he’s not even close to? And get this, Ernest is shacking up with the woman now. Left his wife and everything. He and the mistress are living quite well.”

  All on Wallace’s dime because they were likely covering up for the VP. His wife’s shoplifting addiction made more sense now, and was the least of Wallace’s problems. “Damn it.”

  Sara eased down beside her and offered her a chicken wing. “Want one? Food makes everything better.”

  Liz picked it up and wished the spicy chicken could make all their problems go away.

  “Eat up,” Gus said, shaking off her pensiveness. “The men will sneak up here at some point and probably raid our buffet because none of them were smart enough to cater food. Now, Sara, let’s talk about Mad.”

  The pregnant woman fell quiet.

  Even though Gus meant well, Liz felt sorry for her. “I’ll get you some dessert.”
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  “Thanks.”

  Liz rose and fetched her a colorful selection of macaroons. Tonight, Sara had helped her to feel as if she belonged. Everyone had, in fact. Despite all their problems, Liz found herself smiling as she picked up another plate.

  * * * *

  Mad sat back in the tiny apartment that had somehow become more of a home to him than his elegant Manhattan mansion. Well, he no longer had the classy estate since it had burned down, but he’d never been as comfortable in that place as he was here.

  Because of Sara.

  The bunker accommodations were crowded now, since Freddy and all his friends had stuffed themselves into the small room. They’d collectively agreed that they couldn’t risk him walking around the White House and potentially being seen. Of course, they also thought their wives were safely ensconced at their homes or hotel rooms, rather than a couple of floors above them plotting their own schemes.

  How was he the only one who understood these women?

  Mad thought about pointing out that Sara wasn’t taking a walk or hanging out in the bedroom. But that would be tattling.

  “So you trust this Russian mobster, Dusan?” Zack was dressed as casually as he ever did in a dress shirt and slacks, sans tie and suitcoat.

  “About as far as I can throw him, but he has plenty of reasons for not wanting Krylov to grab more power.” Gabe relaxed against the back of the sofa between Connor and Dax.

  His recent trip to Moscow was the reason for this meeting.

  It was hard to believe that they used to get together simply because they were all friends. These days, they didn’t talk about sports or work or their hookups. Not anymore. Now, they talked about who was gunning for them.

  All in all, Mad would rather talk about basketball. And he wasn’t even a fan.

  “So we have to hope he’ll find something useful.” Roman paced the floor, something he’d been doing since he’d walked in a half hour earlier. “I hope you didn’t promise him anything we can’t deliver.”

  “I didn’t promise you would deliver him anything at all,” Gabe replied. “I promised him a hearty discount on a private jet. I was explicit about the fact that Zack would owe him nothing. Like I said, he’s got his reasons for agreeing.”