Restrained Under His Duty (Dirty Little Secrets 3)

“You might just regret those words, Shawna.” I smile back before leaving her at her post. That night had been the hottest of the summer, and no one at the time was particularly thrille

d to be pinning the idiot down for twenty minutes until the EMS arrived to administer midazolam to calm him down enough to strap him to the gurney.

Amused at the memory, I enter the west wing’s door to the mansion, immediately struck by the senator’s low and gravelly voice.

“You know I’m with you.”

I stop a little in front of the doorway, allowing the senator to see my left side and know I’m there if he needs me.

That’s when I hear Tobias Harrington, the governor, say, “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

Even if I’m staring at the wainscoting across from me, I don’t have to see the senator to know he’s stressed. I hear the strain in his voice when he says, “Of course. I understand what you’re going through, Tobias. I’m feeling the pressure as well.” A pause. Then, “Blackwood, is that you?”

I enter the room, met with a thick cloud of cigar smoke laced with the particularly potent arrogance that fills a room when two powerful politicians are in one space. The second I catch Senator Winters’s eyes, I see the exhaustion in their brown depths. The senator is only in his sixties, but he looks much older and incredibly tired. He’s had enough politics tonight. “Sir, I apologize for the interruption, but you have an important phone call.”

From his leather wingback chair, the senator glances at the governor. “Tobias, would you mind?”

“Of course not.” The governor rises and turns to face me.

I’ve never been quite sure what to make of Tobias Harrington. He’s a tall, brooding man, far younger than the senator. In fact, we’re the same age, thirty-five. When he was elected to his first term he was only thirty-one, and at that time, he became the youngest American governor since Clinton. And I have yet to decide if his confidence is warranted or if he’s just another asshole in a suit.

The governor’s icy blue stare tries to challenge me, a contest he’ll never win. He obviously realizes that and tears his gaze away, downing the remainder of his scotch. He sets the glass down on the end table next to the wingback chair and offers his hand. “Just remember, Winters, we need to show a solid front in Washington.”

“I understand.” The senator returns the handshake. “Please, enjoy the party.”

Pleasantries done and over with, the governor leaves the room and the senator approaches me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for that. I take it I don’t have a phone call?”

“You looked like you needed a break.”

“I did,” says the senator with a long, suffering sigh. “Come on, let’s take one.”

Silently, I follow him out of the room, staring at his back, seeing the slight drop in his shoulders. The senator needs a vacation. Christ, maybe he needs to retire at this point. But that’s none of my business. Not that I think he’d listen to anyone anyway. The senator lives to work, and I respect that about him.

When we reach the back door near the kitchen, the senator exits the house and enters the small garden off his study. Not a soul in sight, and even the loud voices are quieter here. I assume that’s exactly what he loves about this place and possibly why he comes here often to unwind.

Gary sits down at the white metal table and waves me over to a chair. “Come, Blackwood, you’ve been on your feet all night.”

Typically I’d refuse, as I always like to be ready to act if I need to, but we’ve worked together long enough for me to know that he won’t be satisfied until I sit. I take the seat next to him and stretch out my legs, letting my guard down for now.

Then I look at him. The man I’ve known for most of my life, the man I would take a bullet for. Not because I’m paid to but out of loyalty to a good man. It bothers me that he’s looking frail and gaunt these days. His skin is wrinkled far past his sixty years, and the circles under his eyes aren’t only noticeable, they’ve darkened almost to black. The only thing that hasn’t changed from when he first hired me is the subtle strength in his eyes. He’s a man who rules from morals and ethics, and prefers to lead by example. People follow and trust him because of it, as do I.

I stay silent, watching him puff on his cigar as he leans his head back and blows the smoke high in the air, giving him the time he needs to unwind from the party and from an obviously tense conversation with the governor.

Slowly I begin to see the guy I know start to emerge, a man without worries and stress. He rubs his tired-looking eyes. “There’s much corruption going on right now, Blackwood.”

“In Washington?” I ask.

Gary nods. “I’m being squeezed from all sides to change my vote. The things I’m being offered are tempting, I’ll tell you that.”

“Usually deals with the Devil are,” I offer.

“How very true that is.” He nods again, taking another long drag of his cigar and blowing out a puff of smoke around him. “A lesser man would take the Devil’s bargain, no doubt about it.”

“Is this a problem we need to look into?”

“It may become one.” The senator draws a deep breath and shuts his eyes, enduring the obvious weight of responsibility on his shoulders. When he opens his eyes again, he’s refocused. “Let’s see how this all plays out. I may stay out of the crossfire and I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it is.”

Always levelheaded and pragmatic, that’s the senator. “Can you determine if this corruption is financially motivated?” Which always matters, because more often than not money makes good men do bad things.