I don’t know anyone at all who broods quite like you, Zack.
He could hear Liz’s soft Southern voice teasing him. She was the one who often pulled him out of his broody moods. She was the one who made him look forward to waking up in the morning. She was certainly the one who’d made him look forward to the future. For so long, he’d been looking forward to formally dating her. After the campaign for his second term, he’d planned to do just that. He’d even thought about how nice it would be to have a White House wedding…and maybe a baby.
Now everything had changed. He was running away so he wouldn’t kill her.
No, he was running away because once Connor had brought the incriminating evidence to him, his first thought had been to drag Liz to his bed and teach her that she couldn’t betray him without consequences. He ached to tie her up and make sure she understood exactly who was in charge and that she would never be allowed to betray her country—or him—again. He’d thought about marrying her so he could remind her every night that she served at the pleasure of the president—and no one else—and always would for the rest of her life.
That would be a terrible mistake.
She was somewhere in the West Wing working with Gus, who thought Zack was the worst human being for mistreating her friend.
He was going to have to tell Gus to be careful of the people to whom she gave her trust.
Zack grabbed his cell phone, then pocketed it. Maybe he should call this weekend off, but he wasn’t going to. He needed this. And he owed his friends. They had elected to fight with and beside him. That meant getting all their ducks in a row before the Russians came at them again. Maybe they’d even mount an offense of their own.
He strode out of his room, nodding at people he passed down the hall. He moved quickly, not wanting to be drawn into conversation. He needed a glass of Scotch and the company of his pack.
Would they still be his friends if the worst about his past and his parentage proved true? Maybe it was silly to worry, but he did.
Thomas waited at the limo. “I’ll be driving you today, sir. And for the record, it’s been a pleasure to serve you. Don’t get the car too bloody.”
“Bloody?” Zack shook his head as he peered inside the open limo door to climb in. “What are you talking about?”
But Zack instantly saw that the backseat wasn’t empty. The lights from the car door illuminated a pair of expensive loafers and designer slacks in the otherwise dark car. Someone was sitting inside his limo.
A chill raced through him. “Thomas?”
“I hope you don’t fire me, sir. But respectfully, I insist you talk to him. It’s time.”
So Thomas was in on this conspiracy, too. He had wolves all around him—the kind in sheep’s clothing. They wouldn’t kill him, not today. They had plans for him, after all…
Better to get this over with. Maybe he would finally find out everything he needed to know. Information would certainly help him decide how best to fight back.
Zack climbed into the limo and sat, then turned to face his enemy, still sitting in shadow.
The outline of the face seemed eerily familiar. The shape of the nose. The piercing color of those eyes.
But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
“Hey, buddy. Do you have any idea how good it is to be back in civilization? I’m done with the prepper shit, and no matter how hard I tried, there was nothing glamorous about glamping.” Maddox Crawford leaned forward, light shafting across his face. He held a crystal tumbler filled with Scotch and wore a jaunty smile. He looked a little older than he had a few short months ago, before his “funeral.” But he also looked utterly alive. “I’ve been living on freeze-dried crap, and Lara’s friend Freddy makes this rotgut whiskey that’s truly horrible.”
Zack blinked. “Mad?”
“In the flesh and even more handsome than before I died,” Mad shot back with a wink. “I’ve had time to perfect my skin care regime. You need some, buddy. You look like shit. Now let’s get down to business and talk about who’s trying to twist your balls and ruin this country because you have fucked this up terribly.”
Zack stared at his not-dead friend as the car pulled away from the White House. He grabbed Mad’s arm to make sure the guy was actually real. “I can’t believe it’s you. Where have you fucking been? How could you let us think you were dead? Why the hell—”
“I know. I know. But it’s all part of the conversation,” Mad assured. “Settle in. This won’t be easy.”
Zack’s mind whirled with possibilities and implications, but he grabbed a Scotch and sat back to listen. It was going to be an interesting, informative ride.
Zack, Liz, and the entire Perfect Gentlemen family (including Mad) will return in AT THE PLEASURE OF THE PRESIDENT in Fall 2018!