At the Pleasure of the President (The Perfect Gentlemen 5)

Mad stopped, eyes widening. “She wouldn’t be able to leave. She would have to deal with me.”

“Sometimes it’s all about being patient and waiting out the storm. Unless you’d rather go wherever Freddy has in mind?”

Mad grabbed his shoulders, fervent gratitude in his eyes. “Freddy was planning on taking me to a guy in Colorado who lives in caves and patrols for aliens on a daily basis. Please. Please take me in. I swear I’ll help the cause. I’ll do almost anything you ask. I would even hand over the Scotch if it hadn’t burned in that fire. You know, in all of this no one has mentioned that Gabe and my sister managed to burn down a perfectly good mansion of mine.”

Ah, it was good to know he still could surprise Mad. The Scotch he referred to had been a Macallan 1926 that they’d all bid on when it had come up for auction through Sotheby’s. A mystery bidder had slid in at the last minute and snatched it up. And that bastard had kept it hidden for years. “Gabe saved the Scotch. He came out of that fire cradling it like a baby he’d rescued.”

“My Scotch is alive?” Mad asked hopefully, like the answer might bring light back into the world.

Zack felt his lips tug up in a ferocious grin. Actions had consequences—as Mad was about to discover. “Was alive and it was delicious, brother. Since you were dearly departed and all, we drank it at Gabe’s bachelor party.”

Mad’s face fell.

“Hey,” Zack said. “I’m sorry. I was teasing you, though we did drink it. I would offer to get you another one, but I’m pretty sure that was the last on the market.”

Mad shook his head. “Actually, I wasn’t upset about the Scotch. I bought it for just that sort of occasion, something big. I’m more upset that I missed Gabe’s bachelor party. I also missed his wedding, Connor’s wedding, and Dax’s wedding—to the right woman. So…basically, I missed everything. That wasn’t how I saw this unfolding.”

“Sometimes life takes a turn. I assure you I never thought in a million years I would be wondering who I was at this point in my life. Not in an existential way, but in a real, visceral way. I don’t even know my real name.”

“Does it matter?” Mad asked.

“Of course it matters.”

Mad’s head shook. “I’m not going to lie to you. In the beginning I worried you might have known something or that your dad was still in on it, and that was why I hesitated.”

Frustration welled inside Zack, and he wished Elizabeth was here. Even being able to clap eyes on her would calm him a bit. He wished they’d never gotten out of bed. “Anything my father might have known is gone now. I’ve questioned him, especially about Mother and what happened. He can’t answer and he gets agitated when I mention that she’s dead.”

“Are we sure he’s not faking the dementia?”

“Several of the top doctors in the world claim he’s not.” He’d thought about it, watched his father carefully. “I’ve had him under surveillance for months. He wanders around from time to time, but no one’s caught him doing anything truly suspicious.”

“I’d like to let Freddy watch him. On CCTV tapes at least,” Mad said. “Freddy is surprisingly good with details, and he’s an excellent hacker. I know it’s not protocol, but he should look through your systems, too.”

“I rarely work on a laptop,” Zack admitted. “You do understand that anything I put down on a computer is subject to the Presidential Records Act of 1978. I prefer to have conversations rather than writing emails or sending notes. And my work cell phone isn’t supposed to be hackable. After all, it only connects to twelve other phones and has its own cell tower.”

“I’m talking about the systems in the White House. I want to make sure no one is monitoring you,” Mad said.

It seemed as if his old friend had learned a lot in the last few months. “We’ll work something out. Thomas assures me he runs sweeps from time to time, but it’s good to have fresh eyes. I’m sorry about Kemp. He seemed like a good guy.”

He hated the fact that a Secret Service agent had been killed watching over him. Matthew Kemp might not have thrown himself in front of a bullet coming Zack’s way, but he’d still been serving the office of the president.

“He was a good man.” Mad sighed. “And a good friend. I sent him to England, you know. I should have backed him up.” When Zack started to reassure him, Mad held a hand up. “No, you have your guilt, and I have mine. I need it. I need to remember always that this is dangerous and the decisions I make could cost us all.”

Zack faced the same realization every day. It was something he tried to deal with in private. His friends didn’t need to understand what this job cost him, but it appeared that Mad had learned this truth the hard way. “Keep his memory close and let it fuel you to be better. Kemp died upholding his vow. We have to uphold ours.”

“That’s the man I know. Thank you for giving me a perfect example.” Mad cocked his head. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I know who you are. The rest is all semantics. You’re Zack Hayes. You’re the best man I know, and I’ve never met anyone I would rather have watch my back. It doesn’t matter how you were born or to who. You are the man you are, and no DNA test is going to change that.”

He should have picked up a glass because all the tender time he’d spent with Elizabeth couldn’t save him from the way his gut twisted when he thought about the choices he might have to make. “If push comes to shove, I’ll resign rather than give them what they want.”

“If they’re willing to assassinate you, then that might also give them what they want,” Mad pointed out. “If they can’t bend you to their will, I think they would rather take their chances with VP Shorn.”

Zack nodded. He was caught in this trap unless he could figure out who was behind the blackmail. Even if he did, if they had the proof of his true identity, why hadn’t they used it? He could answer that question himself. Because it would force a constitutional crisis, and if he didn’t step down immediately, if he fought, it could tie up the office for months—enough time to start the pipeline.

Still, he had to be very careful. “We need information, and that means identifying exactly who they’ve worked with over the years. We’re going to have to investigate anyone who had close ties to my family.”

Mad’s expression went grave. “You know that means we have to investigate Joy.”

Joy. It was still hard to think about her and not feel guilty. She’d died so he could ascend. Or had she sacrificed herself for her true country? She’d been the one to insist on pushing through the rallies those final few days. He and Roman thought they needed to hit the Rust Belt swing states hard, but Joy had insisted they keep to the schedule. And Zack had capitulated. Honestly, at that point he hadn’t cared. He’d wanted the whole thing over so he could go to Paris with Liz and start the life he wanted to live. He’d wanted to be free of forty years’ worth of the chains of his father’s expectations and the wife he’d taken out of duty. If he had cared about winning the election more than he’d cared about Liz, Joy would still be alive.

“Yes, I know. It will be easier for you to investigate if you’re at the White House,” he said, already mentally working through the problems they would face sneaking Mad and Sara into the tunnels that existed under the presidential residence.

“We’re doing w

hat now?” Roman sidled up, his brow furrowed. Gabe, Dax, and Connor were with him, each with a beer in hand. “Bringing Mad to the White House?”

Apparently, they had started the party without him.

That smooth smile of Mad’s he wore whenever he thought the tides had turned his way broke across his face. “I’m back in the game, baby. The Mad Hatter is taking up residence and kicking ass.”

“And hopefully groveling at my sister’s feet,” Gabe quipped, sinking into a nearby chair.

“I do not want to have to watch that,” Connor said with a long sigh. “Reminds me of my own life. Hey, if you want to stay at my place, I’ve got an extra room. It’s secure.”

Mad’s expression filled with horror. “Your place has tofu.”

“And an aggressively sexual dog,” Connor agreed. “Lincoln will hump your leg and you won’t even have to grovel for it. He’ll do that for free, and he is fluid with his sexuality. Man, woman, pillow, sofa. He’ll hump anything. We’re working on the problem.”

“Hard pass.” Mad lost the arrogance. “I only want to be close to Sara. I know she hates me right now, but I can’t not try.”

“Sara doesn’t have it in her to hate,” Gabe observed. “But she will distance if you give her the chance.”

Dax tipped his beer Mad’s way. “I learned that the hard way, brother. Don’t take too long. And whatever you do, don’t marry her best friend in a drunken stupor. You will never hear the end of it.”

“See, no matter what I’ve done in my life, Dax is still the dumbest out of us all,” Mad pointed out. “I don’t want to give Sara more time to put her walls up.”

“She won’t have much of a chance if she’s locked in a room with you twenty-four seven, investigating my personal nightmare.” Zack liked the notion of playing cupid for Mad. His friend was rarely naïve, but he’d been foolish to think Sara wouldn’t be angry.

Liz hadn’t been angry. She had grasped that he’d been trying to keep her safe. At the time, he’d truly believed he had to sacrifice his feelings for her. Now? He wasn’t sure if he could let himself love her…or how much he could stop his heart from doing it anyway.