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

With a toss of his hands, Freddy shrugged. “If Joy was supposedly in Paris, at least she was on the right continent…”

To help commit murder? No. Joy had loved Constance. Then again, so many things about this case weren’t what they appeared to be.

Zack shook his head, unable to believe that sweet Joy had been capable of wanting anyone dead. “My wife wouldn’t have arranged my mother’s death.”

But he couldn’t shake the former intelligence officer’s suspicions. Who else could it have been?

“Since your mother is gone and the records Freddy found don’t specify, we may never know who took your mother from the facility that night,” Mad admitted.

True, and Zack accepted that for now. After all, the truth wouldn’t bring Constance back. “So circling back to the question of who my birth mother is, without DNA from a relative of either my mother or Natalia, we’re screwed.”

Lately, Zack had thought of little else except finding a way out of this web. Well, that and Elizabeth. He’d worried endlessly that she was the most dangerous part of the Russians’ trap—the alluring bait he was no longer sure he could continue to resist. If she was merely a bystander caught up in this tangle, then he’d done her a disservice with his suspicions and he needed to protect her. If she wasn’t…the knowledge might wreck him.

“There must be some relative somewhere,” Elizabeth insisted.

“No. Natalia’s body disappeared and Constance was swiftly cremated. Mother was the last of her line. No aunts, uncles, or cousins. I have no one to compare my DNA to. I assume the Russians don’t have the same problem.”

“They haven’t played out that hand yet,” Mad said grimly. “Given what I know now, I worry the higher-ups have decided to force the issue one way or another.”

“Force the issue?” Everly asked.

Mad’s whole body tensed. “Our Dark Web contacts believe they have an assassin targeting the president.”

Elizabeth paled. Her hands shook. In that instant, Zack knew that if he didn’t act fast, they would have another fainting woman on their hands.

When Gus leapt to her feet and lunged toward her friend, Zack interceded. Elizabeth was his responsibility. He’d brought her here for a reason, and leaving her care to Gus wouldn’t help him figure out his press secretary’s role in this mess.

“Come on.” He wrapped a steadying hand around Elizabeth’s arm. “Let’s get you a drink. I’ve got the good vodka in the freezer.”

She didn’t protest when he led her away, just followed silently until they reached the big kitchen. After he pulled out the vodka and a pair of glasses, he poured two shots.

Elizabeth took it and knocked the alcohol back, setting it down for another. “This must be an anxiety-laden dream, Zack. Tell me it is.”

“I wish it were.” He poured her another one. “It’s very real, and now you’re involved. Before you got here, Roman and I decided to use Lara’s blog to float the story about his e-mail fling with Joy. You’ll have to handle that fallout.”

She nodded. “You want to expose as much of the blackmail threat as possible so it can’t be used against you. I can get ahead of this story. Let me think about how to frame it. I’ll talk to Gus. I think if neither of you seems upset by the news, it should die down quickly. Let’s not put Roman on TV. We don’t gain anything by doing that. But, Zack, you do understand that once you make this move, they’ll know you’re fighting back? They might come at you harder.”

He and the others were as ready for that as they could be. He simply had to hope they could keep everyone safe as this played out. God knew, he was beyond ready for this threat to be over—one way or another. “Then I’ll watch my back.”

Chapter Five

Two hours later, Mad stood, watching his friends as they talked and drank. It was almost like old times…but not quite. They’d sat together at dinner. By some unspoken understanding, everyone shelved talk of the looming conspiracy they found themselves in, but the cheer around the room as they’d dug into their food felt frenetic. Afterward, the conversation had turned to Roman and Gus’s upcoming wedding, as well as the happenings in everyone’s jobs.

He felt so out of touch with all of them.

Beside Freddy, he’d watched these people he loved so much and had sacrificed everything for, wondering if he would ever again feel like he belonged or be the man he’d been before that terrible night changed everything.

Now, everyone was clustered inside, listening to nineties tunes and reminiscing, pretending like this weekend was some sort of party. The old him would not only have applauded, but instigated. Now he was perturbed no one was discussing the fact they weren’t sitting around a bonfire because an assassin might take a shot at Zack.

So he stood at the back of the room, contemplating whether he’d be bunking with Freddy tonight or be relegated to the couch. Of course the joke would be on them. That couch would be the best thing he’d slept on in months. His spine would thank him.

Still, he was depressed by the thought.

He’d imagined his reunion with Sara so many times. In his every version, he’d spent the night with her, inside her. Of course she shouldn’t be here now. When he’d realized the Secret Service had mistakenly brought her to Camp David, he’d been horrified. But now that she knew he wasn’t dead, it probably made sense to fill her in. Mad didn’t like it…but he suspected the endgame was near, and he couldn’t stand the thought of not being there for his baby’s birth.

Still, he’d been a fool to think he and Sara could pick up where they’d left off. He had been gone too long and done too much damage to their relationship for that. She hated him now. Loathed him. Would probably never forgive him. The night Krylov had dropped into his life, he’d died for all intents and purposes. He’d been nothing but a revenant since.

“What are you doing standing back here?” Gabe had a beer in his hand as he approached. “I’m not used to a Mad Crawford who isn’t the life of the party.”

“Well, I don’t party much anymore.” Neither did Sara apparently. She’d disappeared after dinner, and he’d been told she’d gone to bed. She was tucked away in one of the cabins, sleeping. Or fuming and trying to figure how to extricate him from her life permanently.

Gabe was quiet for a moment as he scanned the room. “I’ve been thinking all night.”

“Good for you.” He was getting bitter, and he hated the feeling. Mad knew he was lucky to be alive, but what was the point when he couldn’t go home and everyone he loved wasn’t exactly happy to see him?

&nbs

p; “In your shoes, I don’t know that I would have done anything different,” Gabe admitted. “The whole time you were talking, I thought about what I’d been willing to do to keep Everly safe that night in the Crawford building, when Connor saved us. I would have gone to any lengths, even hurting her if that kept her alive. Now, I would probably make a different choice because I trust her and I’ve seen how strong she is. But then, I was so panicked. I would have done whatever it took to ensure that she survived.”

“During my evening with Krylov, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to survive, and honestly, all I could think of was that my death would be worth it if Sara remained safe.”

“You love my sister.”

“Gabe, I never told you this because I didn’t know how you’d react, but I’ve loved your sister since she was sixteen. I get it; I tore through women, but she was the only one who mattered. I fell for her that summer before we went to Yale. I didn’t touch her. I never even kissed her until a couple of months after she came to work at Crawford, but I’d loved her for years by then.”

“And you never told…Gus. You told Gus.”

He nodded. “We shared the common bond of pining for people we could never have. I’m glad Roman came around.”

Sara probably never would. While he’d been laying out the last couple of months of his life, she’d barely looked at him. She’d merely sat next to Liz, not far from Everly and Gabe, and stared without a word. He’d seen her brush away a few tears, and it had taken all of his willpower not to take her in his arms.

“Is Sara okay? Did you make sure she locked her door?”

Not that he couldn’t get in. He’d learned a lot of questionable though useful skills lately, things he’d never thought he would master. Lock picking. Hacking. Hand-to-hand combat.