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

“I think you don’t really care about anyone but yourself. How long have you been a traitor?”

Zack mentally kicked himself for not realizing his own father’s perfidy. He should have immediately suspected that Frank’s illness was fishy, but again, the Russians had known exactly how to play him. His father’s mental state had appeared to be slipping the last few months of the campaign. Joy had hired his specialists—all phonies, he supposed—then unwittingly given her life to get him elected. In the first hectic year after he’d taken office, Zack hadn’t had time to think about anything except keeping his head above water…and he hadn’t tried harder to spend time with his father because of their odd, strained relationship.

God, he’d been so easy to manipulate.

“I am not a traitor,” his father snarled back. “Do you think I liked being put in this position? I fought like hell when my father told me the family’s secret loyalties. I meant to serve the US with honor in that embassy post. It was your mother who screwed everything up. She deserved what she got.”

Zack stared at his father in horror. “You arranged her death?”

Frank couldn’t look him in the face. “The Russians thought she was a liability. We all agreed she would have been an embarrassment when you began your presidential run. Before you even announced your campaign, questions were arising about her mental state. Ah, but how much more sympathetic would voters be if she died suddenly and tragically? So Joy flew to Paris for a ‘shopping trip.’ From there, she found it was easy enough to reach Constance, disguise herself with a blond wig, and check your mother out of the hospital. No one asked many questions when money talked. Krylov’s men took care of the rest.”

Vanessa put a gun to the back of his father’s head. “Thank you for the history lesson, Sergei. Now shut up and get inside the residence so we can talk. Or I’ll do what my father should have done long ago and blow your brains out.”

The Secret Service agent pressed the hard barrel of his gun against Zack’s spine. “Let’s move, Mr. President. We’ve taken control of the White House, but that doesn’t mean we won’t still have trouble.”

He bit back questions, held his hands up, and prayed Elizabeth would stay in the closet. She was smart and if she could get a message out, perhaps one of the others would call for help.

Vanessa followed them into the entryway of the residence, then looked Glen’s way. “I need a status report.”

The rogue agent closed the door behind them. “PEOC is under our control. I’ve got confirmation that we have Calder and two others in custody.”

“Two others? I thought Calder was the only one down there.” Vanessa turned to glare at Zack. “Who are your other friends? Sparks? Spencer?”

So they still didn’t know about Mad or Freddy. Thomas had been the only one in on that secret.

“I have no idea. You know it’s a big house. There’s always someone coming in and out.” He sent them a humorless smile. “Why did you call my father Sergei?”

That was the name he’d feared for months. If he could get an answer now, it might both buy him peace and Elizabeth some time.

And while they talked, he needed to figure out their play. What was their endgame? If they’d wanted to kill him, they would already have shot him. They’d had plenty of opportunity. Instead, they’d isolated him. But they couldn’t keep him here forever and they couldn’t keep the White House in lockdown. There would be too many questions.

Vanessa stared at him, as though considering whether answering was worth her time. Finally, she sighed. “Natalia hated the name Frank. She said it reminded her that he had other loyalties, including his vows to another woman. She was somewhat possessive of him.”

He was about to ask questions about his father’s affair with Nata and the baby she’d given birth to, when his worst nightmare happened. Elizabeth exited the bedroom, carrying her phone. It looked as if she’d just hung up.

When she caught sight of them, her eyes widened with fear.

“Welcome, Ms. Matthews.” Vanessa turned her gun Elizabeth’s way. “Join us. After all, you’ll soon be spending some time with friends of mine.”

Zack held a hand out to Elizabeth, and she ran to him, her heels clicking against the marble floors. Their fingers tangled. He could hear her shaky breaths. He could practically feel her fear. “Stay calm, sweetheart. I don’t think they’re planning to take us out here and now. I believe they have other arrangements to make, don’t you?”

“Well, you didn’t leave us with many choices,” his father complained. “If you had just been more reasonable, none of this would have happened.”

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked. “Other than your father being surprisingly lucid.”

“My father is and always has been. He’s also a part of this scheme. Apparently, he joined the merry band of Russians shortly after I was born. Is Natalia Kuilikov my mother?”

He wanted answers. He fucking deserved to know. And he had to find out now, before they made their next move. And Zack feared he knew what that was.

They needed him compliant, and he could only think of one way to ensure that: they intended to take Elizabeth with them and hold her hostage so he had little choice but to do their bidding.

Zack hoped like hell they would fail because he had friends—amazing friends who had never let him down—and there was no way they allowed the Russians to compromise their country or to break him. Roman, Mad, and Freddy might be under their control—good luck with that—but he’d heard nothing about Dax and Gabe. Or Connor, who hadn’t even been in the White House. They would find a way to rescue Elizabeth. Then, Zack swore, these Russians would feel every ounce of his wrath.

His father looked confused for a moment, but not in the vacant way he had previously. “What are you talking about?”

Zack felt Elizabeth squeeze his hand, trying to lend him her strength. It gave him the courage to keep asking the questions, despite the answers terrifying him. “I know why you institutionalized Mother. I heard the tapes. She accidently killed a child. Was that the real Zack Hayes?”

Vanessa laughed, shaking her head the nurse’s way. “I wondered if that was what he thought.”

His father frowned. “You honestly believe I would pawn off some bastard as my own?”

“He was still your son. You were having an affair with Natalia, and she was in love with you. The way I heard it, both women were pregnant at the same time. What a bad boy, Frank…” she scolded. “But Constance was upset about Natalia’s pregnancy, so you sent her back to the States to give birth under the guise of ensuring there would be no question that Zack had been born on US soil.”

“I had to. Constance didn’t understand that Natalia was a lovely convenience. Or I thought she was. She promised me she couldn’t get pregnant.” His father paced like a lion in a cage. “She lied. The whole fucking affair was a mistake. I talked to her about an abortion. She refused. Shortly after she gave birth, Krylov and a KGB officer came to me. I realized they’d plotted to shame me into working for them all along. Natalia was just the Jezebel they’d sent to trap me. But I didn’t care. I already knew my political career was going nowhere, so I laughed in their faces. After all, I had a healthy, properly born son, and I just knew that Zachary would be the Hayes who finally became president. But then your stupid bitch of a mother ruined everything by smothering Nata’s baby.”

His stomach twisted. “So my mother killed my half brother?”

“Yes,” his father croaked. “She smothered him. She was drunk, as usual. I managed to keep her from the gin until after you were born. The minute she recovered from your birth, she was right back at it. I stayed with her because her father had more money than God and she was his only heir. I knew that inheritance could fund your political career, but that damn old man stayed alive forever.”

“And your dad wasn’t around to stop Constance’s big oops because he was in bed with Natalia at the time. And so your son died, Frank.”

Vanessa made a pouty face.

“My son is alive and right here in this room.” His father’s hands had fisted at his sides, face mottled as he regarded Zack. “I protected you after that. I wouldn’t allow Constance near you. But the KGB, they came after the boy’s death.” He swallowed. “You have to understand what a scandal it would have caused if anyone knew that Constance had committed infanticide, even accidentally. I couldn’t call the authorities. They would have arrested your mother. It would have ruined my career and her father would have never given you a dime. I needed his wealth for your career. We had money, but nothing like your mother’s family.”

“You chose cash over your country?”

“I chose your future over my freedom,” he argued. “You don’t think I would have wanted to be cut loose from Constance? Let them haul her away and bid good riddance? But I didn’t so that you could have a future.” He held out his hands. “This future.”

“Don’t pin this on me. You sold me out, even though you knew they would later want to use my position to compromise our country.” Zack intended to break the decades-long stranglehold Russia had on his family. “You were too weak to say no.”

He would never put his own son or daughter in such a position. Elizabeth wouldn’t allow it. Unlike his father, he’d picked a truly great partner to spend his life with. Elizabeth would always check his worst qualities. She’d been doing it for a long time, and he’d only really gotten in trouble when he’d stopped trusting her.

“If I’d had my way, you would never have known about this sordid past.”

“You’ve been giving the Russians intelligence,” Elizabeth said. “You thought if you spied on Zack and passed along classified information, they would leave Zack himself alone. You have almost unfettered access since everyone thinks you’re not lucid enough to know what you’re doing. So no one questions it when they find you in the Treaty Room, playing around your son’s desk.” She turned to Zack. “Remember I told you I found him in there two weeks ago. The Secret Service didn’t stop him. They came down to ask me what I wanted to do about it.”