Scandal Never Sleeps (The Perfect Gentlemen 1)

you. It was called ‘A Well Hung Commander-In-Chief.’ Apparently they talked to some of the women I dated before I got married.” Zack sighed. “I can’t date now. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t manage it. The press would be all over the poor woman. I wouldn’t put any female through the daily grind of being the president’s girlfriend. It’s better this way. I can focus on the job.”

“You can focus when you haven’t had sex in . . . what, a couple of years? I think I’d go a little crazy,” Connor admitted.

“I can’t have the woman I want, so what’s the point?” Zack sat back.

Gabe was fairly certain he wasn’t talking about his wife. He’d seen Zack and Joy together. They’d been more like friends and partners than ardent lovers. He certainly hadn’t sensed any passion in their political marriage. She’d come from a wealthy family and possessed a graciousness that won Zack as many votes as his policies. But when Zack and Liz occupied the same room, electricity arced between them, strong and palpable.

Kind of like the electricity Gabe felt between him and Eve. Lovely, sexy Eve.

“Well, I think we should talk about who’s taking home Little Miss ‘I Saw Her First,’” Dax said with a shit-eating grin.

“Someone called dibs?” Connor asked, proving that even a super spy could sound like a goofy teenager under the right circumstances.

Back when they’d been kids, the girls were few and far between, since they’d attended an all-boys school. When they’d found themselves in the presence of a female, they’d taken to calling dibs. It was silly and juvenile, but he freaking had dibs on Eve.

“I was just talking to a woman at the bar,” Gabe explained. “She was having trouble getting a drink, so I helped her out.”

“Did she lose the drink in her breasts?” Dax asked. “Because you seemed to be trying to find it there with your stare.”

“Asshat. She was just a nice woman.” With a great rack. “She’s definitely not the next ex–Mrs. Spencer.”

Gabe wondered what she was doing now. It was getting late. He’d been back here with the guys longer than twenty minutes, so she’d probably already left, likely on her way home to Brooklyn. He hadn’t even gotten her last name. A tragic oversight on his part.

Roman was frowning down at his phone. “Motherfucker. Okay, Connor, I need you to figure out who’s running Capitol Scandals and assassinate him.”

“I’m an analyst,” Connor began. “I don’t do assassinations. What did the loudmouth write now?”

Roman squared his jaw, his lips thinning in a sure sign of anger. “He’s claiming Maddox was murdered.”

The knot that had been sitting in Gabe’s gut for days tightened. “What proof does that prick have?”

Roman scrolled down the screen of his phone, scanning the text. “He claims he has an inside source. I don’t know if that’s the FAA, NTSB, or someone else. Damn it, I hate this. I fucking hate this.” His phone hit the wall with a violent thud.

Grief. It sat there, a tightrope connecting them all. They could laugh and joke and pretend everything was normal, but Maddox was dead, and a piece of them had been ripped away forever. It was another reminder that their childhood was gone.

“I’ll look into it.” Connor put a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I haven’t taken a vacation in years, so I’ve accrued tons of time off. I’m taking it now. Since I’m off the clock, I’ll figure out who the source is and shut them down.”

“Shut down the whole fucking site. They’re vultures.” Roman’s head fell back, and he took a long breath. When he brought it back up, his eyes were infinitely tired. “Sorry. It’s been a long week.”

Since Gabe had gotten the news, it seemed as though time had slowed to an unbearable crawl. The idea that now they would have to hear conspiracy theories about Mad’s death played out in the media for months weighed him down. “His plane crashed. Are they saying someone caused it?”

Zack stood and reached for the bottle of vodka he’d ordered. “They’re flashing salacious headlines to grow their readership. You have to ignore it. I promise I’ll get in touch when the FAA report comes in.” He poured a shot. “Come on, guys. I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to go. Let’s not waste it on things we can’t control.”

Zack was right. There was nothing they could do about any of it tonight, just like Gabe couldn’t fix the mess his sister was in. And he couldn’t change the fact that Mad was gone and he felt hollow inside. He could, however, honor his friend.

Gabe held up his glass. “To Mad.”

They all raised their drinks.

“Za ná-shoo dróo-zhboo,” Zack said in a perfect Russian accent, his vodka held high.

To our friendship. Zack had spent seven years with his parents in Moscow. His father had been the U.S. ambassador, so Zack had learned the language fluently as a kid.

Gabe remembered the first time they’d snuck out of the dorms and gathered in the groundskeeper’s shed. Mad had filched a bottle of bourbon from the headmaster, and they’d all taken shots. And Zack had said those same words in Russian. To our friendship.

A bittersweet moment passed as they drank, that memory fresh in Gabe’s mind because one of them was missing—and would be forever.

“No more of that,” Dax said, putting his glass down. “Mad would be horrified to know we’re getting emotional. Now let’s talk about how we’re going to get Gabe laid tonight because I, for one, think he needs it.”

The last thing he needed was his friends thinking he needed help getting sex. “Not happening, guys. Do you think I’ve forgotten the incident a few years back?”

“I know you forgot it.” Roman stood and stretched. “You couldn’t possibly remember after everything you had to drink that night.”

“I woke up in Jersey with three women who swear I asked them to marry me. I snuck out when they started pulling each other’s hair. That catfight saved me. No, thanks. I’ll find my own dates.”

His twenties really had been interesting. His thirties . . . not so much. Since his father had passed, he’d lost himself in responsibility, and now he’d give just about anything for a few hours without thinking of all the people relying on him. Was asking for an evening of guilty pleasure really too much?

“You found a date, then left her? You’re off your game, man,” Dax ribbed.

“Do you mean the chick with the strawberry-blond hair I saw you talking to earlier? Because if not, then I totally call dibs.” Roman was standing at the door, peeking around the corner. “Damn. That girl is hot. She’s got some curves on her, unlike most of the other ladies here. Does no woman in this town eat cheeseburgers?”

Eve was still here? Gabe got to his feet and strode across the small room. He’d been sure she would be gone. He followed Roman’s line of sight.

She was sitting alone now, pulling out her wallet. She looked around the bar as though searching for someone. When her pretty hazel eyes found his, they flared briefly, but then she suddenly seemed to find the table deeply interesting.

“Oh, you need to hit that.” Roman elbowed him. “I’d sure like to.”

Gabe stepped back, returning to his seat. He was in a bad place and he’d be using her to forget his troubles. It wasn’t fair. “I can’t use my best friend’s funeral to get laid.”

Zack stared at him as if he’d lost his damn mind. “We’re talking about Mad. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for an orgy to be held over his casket.”

Gabe couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, he left a hooker fund—twenty grand—for any of us who happened to be single at the time of his death and in need of temporary solace.”

Gabe didn’t want a hooker. He wanted Eve, and she was about to walk out the door. Maybe if he was honest about what he wanted, she wouldn’t be hurt. Maybe she’d come here for a drink because she needed something, too.

All he knew was he would regret it forever if he let her walk out.

He grabbed his jacket. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Treat the lady right, Gabriel,” Dax said with a grin.

He intended to. He hoped he could convince her to give him a chance because suddenly nothing seemed more important than spending the rest of the night with her.

• • •

It really was time to head home. Everly wasn’t sure why she hadn’t left when Scott had. That wasn’t exactly true. She knew what she was waiting for, or more specifically, whom. She simply wasn’t sure why.