Chapter 22 Cal
CAL
“Marsh, who went viral earlier this year in a video where he can be seen blaming First Lady Selene Taylor for her role in his son’s death, was one of fifteen prisoners unaccounted for after a riot broke out at the federal prison in Florence, Colorado yesterday afternoon.
While all the other inmates were eventually found and returned back to their cells, Marsh has yet to be located… ”
Beck presses the power button on the side of the flat screen TV as he walks by, phone in one hand while the other sweeps over his bare scalp over and over again.
He’s been trying to wear a hole in the floor ever since he got here.
I understand his need to move, to do something to work off the anxious energy bursting out of him and spilling into the room.
I want to be moving too, but ever since the news of Marsh’s escape broke, Selene has refused to leave my arms.
She wasn’t afraid at first, watching the breaking news story with a distant kind of interest as she worked through compiling a list of people who could afford to pay off the Director of the Secret Service, but when they showed the video from earlier this year and followed it up with footage of Marsh’s cell, she wandered over to the couch she ordered when the girls talked her into putting an Xbox in her office and sat down beside me, inching closer and closer as the broadcast went on, showing the pictures of her papering one of the cell walls.
By the time the cameraman got around to zooming in on the ones with the eyes carved out or half the face slashed through, she was pressed into my side.
That’s when I called Beck.
I didn’t need him to do any particular thing besides be here, but from the moment he walked through the door, he’s been in constant motion.
Calling everyone we know, including the warden of Leland’s prison to figure out what the fuck happened.
Of course, Bennett stonewalled him, but he took the punch and kept right on rolling, ending the call and moving on to some of our contacts in the FBI.
So far, no one has been able to give him anything useful.
“Fuck!” He tosses his phone on the end table next to the couch, and Selene jumps. His entire demeanor changes. “I’m sorry, gorgeous,” he murmurs, sinking into the cushion beside her and scooting in close.
“It’s okay,” Selene says, slipping out of my hold to move into his open arms. I stand, grateful for the opportunity to get my blood flowing so I can think. Selene watches me, her expression flat. “Are you two going to take turns pacing?”
“Maybe,” Beck replies, pressing his nose into her hair. It’s grown out now. The blunt ends of the bob she sported in January now soft layers that frame her face and graze the top of her back.
“Is it bothering you?” I ask, not wanting to add to her stress.
She nuzzles into Beck’s chest. “No, I don’t care as long as someone is holding me.”
“Perks of having two boyfriends,” Monique muses, breezing into the room without knocking.
She’s been in and out of the office since the news broke, fielding questions from staff and briefing security on the situation.
Perching on the arm of the couch, she looks at Selene and Beck and sighs dreamily. “I have got to get me a man.”
My favorite thing about Monique is her ability to make Selene smile in just about any situation.
This one is no different. Her random, and ill timed, comment pulls some of the tension out of the air, replacing it with humor for just a second.
She looks at me and winks, silently communicating that that was her intention all along.
“Any word on Marsh?”
I shake my head. “Nothing but what’s already circulating on the news. Beck put some feelers out, but no one’s talking.”
“And we’re certain he’s coming for her?”
Selene raises a limp arm, waving it in the air. “Hello? I’m right here. If you’re going to talk about me, you might as well talk to me.”
Monique’s head swivels in her direction. “Okay, do we know for sure that Marsh is coming for you, Selene?”
The color that had faded from Selene’s sable skin earlier is starting to come back.
I guess she needed a little verbal sparring session to pull her out of the state of shock.
She tries to sit up, but the muscles in Beck’s arm flex, indicating his refusal to let her go.
With a sigh, she relaxes into him again.
“No, we can’t be certain about that, Monique,” she says, emphasizing her best friend’s full name. To my knowledge, she never calls her by it unless she’s annoyed with her or truly upset.
“Okay, so maybe we don’t need to worry. For all we know, the man could be sipping Mai Tais in one of those countries we don’t have an extradition treaty with and laughing because everyone was too busy checking under the beds of the White House for him while he was crossing the boarder.”
It’s a pleasant thought, truly it is, but I know Leland Marsh.
I looked into his eyes and heard the vitriol in his voice when he told us that he’d rain hell down on all of us if something happened to his son.
Now Jacob is dead, and he’s stolen his freedom back.
I’d bet my last dollar that he’s planning on using this time to make good on that promise.
Monique splits a woeful gaze between me and Beck, reading our faces easily. “Wishful thinking, huh?”
I nod. “Running would be the smart thing to do, but I’ve never met a man in the Marsh family that’s been acquainted with common sense.”
“Ohhh. Can I use that?” Monique asks. We all look at her like she’s lost her mind, and she frowns. “What? I’m always looking for new ways to call men stupid.”
“Can you be serious for once in your life, Mo?”
“Girl, it’s serious enough in here. I’m trying to keep everyone off the train to death and despair.” Selene narrows her eyes, and Monique rolls hers, conceding. “Fine. I’ll be serious.”
She squares her shoulders and sits up even straighter, aiming a severe look in my direction.
“I’ve authorized overtime for our security team indefinitely. They’ve all agreed to work around the clock, but Dean wants to know if we’ll give the okay for him to bring in contractors.”
Beck shakes his head. “No. We don’t have time to properly vet or train them.”
“That’s what I told him you’d say,” Monique says, pulling out her phone and typing out a message. “I’ll let him know it’s a no go.”
“Thanks, Mo.”
She waves Selene’s expression of gratitude off, moving on to the next thing. “Mama J keeps calling me. She’s mad that you’re not answering your phone. I told her Cal and Beck were taking care of you, but she’ll want to hear from you sooner rather than later.”
Once again, Selene tries to escape Beck’s grasp, and once again, he denies her.
“I need to find my phone, Beck.”
“You said you needed to be held,” he reminds her. “Monique just said she spoke to your parents. They’re fine. We can call them once we’re somewhere safe and have a plan in place.”
She starts to protest, but I cut her off. “He’s right. If you call them now, they’ll just have a million questions you don’t have the answers to, which will add to your stress.”
A resigned sigh passes through her lips as I try to read her.
I know that she’s afraid, but there’s also this eerie kind of calm around her that makes me think she’s dissociating a little.
I can’t tell if it’s an intentionally deployed protective measure or a subconscious result of lingering shock, but it worries me.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asks, lashes fluttering as she blinks up at me.
“You can’t go back to the White House.”
Her brows dip together. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t just disappear. Aubrey—”
“Who gives a fuck about Aubrey?” Monique interjects.
“He threatened to have me killed, Mo. He told Cal and Beck if we continued our relationship, he’d make sure one of the awful things people fantasize about doing to me online became a reality.”
“Girl, these men have been here with you every day for almost two months. I’m sure he already knows that you’re still involved.”
“He came right out and said it the day we got fired,” Beck says. “I don’t know if we were on his radar before that, but when we came into the room, that was all the confirmation he needed.”
“But this would be different,” Selene argues, finally managing to break free of his hold so she can stand. “This would be giving him the ammunition he needs to load a gun and point it in my direction. In our direction.”
I approach her with slow cautious steps, grabbing her chin to make her face me.
“You loaded the gun when you accused him of murdering his mistress, Selene. Taking away your security detail was him clicking off the safety. For all we know, Marsh was the bullet waiting in the chamber, and Aubrey just pulled the trigger.”
Fear flickers in her irises, but she’s following my logic. “He wants me dead.”
“He wants you dead,” I confirm, tightening my grasp marginally when her chin starts to wobble.
“But he won’t get to have that, baby. We will keep you safe until you have everything you need to fucking destroy him, and when it’s done, when you’ve vanquished every demon and slain every dragon, we will build a life so beautiful, so full of happiness, you’ll forget you ever spent a single second being afraid. ”
She closes her eyes, letting the words soak into her skin.
When she opens them again, the fear is gone, replaced by the fire of determination.
It’s the most she’s looked like herself in hours, and I’m glad to have her back.
I lower my hand, setting her free to do whatever it is she needs to do right now.
Move.
Sit.
Pace.
Hover.
Curl into a ball.