Chapter Twenty-Six #2
He took a shot through the window that caught her in the arm. The shock and impact knocked her off her feet. Son of a bitch, if he shot her again while she was down, that could be game over. But damned if she could make her limbs work to get herself out of harm’s way.
Freddie was upon them before Lucas could fire again. “Put it down and get out of the car with your hands up. Now!”
While Sam moved out of the line of fire, Freddie waited for Lucas to emerge from the car. The second he got out, Freddie cuffed him.
“Are you hit?” Freddie cried as Vernon and Jimmy joined them, guns drawn.
“Glancing blow.” When she tried to get up, the world spun around her, so she sat.
Freddie called for backup and a bus and then put pressure on the wound that had her howling in pain.
“Son of a bitch,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Cut that out!”
“No, you’re bleeding like crazy.”
He pushed even harder on the wound, and she passed out.
An hour before he was due to formally announce his new vice presidential nominee, Nick conducted a press scrum in the Oval Office.
They surrounded his desk with lights, boom microphones, cameras and a relentless onslaught of questions covering everything from the shooting in Des Moines and his call for common sense gun control to former secretary Ruskin’s accusations of incompetence, the situation in the Gulf of Suez, Nick’s youthful inexperience, his choice of a vice president, his wife’s career, the custody case that Cleo’s parents had made public before the gag order was issued and so on.
By the time Terry and Trevor finally cleared the room, Nick was tapped out.
“Can you remind me again why people want this job so badly?” he asked Terry when they were alone.
“They want the power of it, but if they knew what it was really like, they’d probably run for their lives.”
“No kidding. I need a drink after that.”
“We can arrange for one.”
“Nah, I’d better wait until the next press event is over. Once I start, I might never stop.”
“Can’t say I blame you, but you’re doing great so far. Your approval rating is holding right around fifty percent, which is damned good in this polarized climate.”
The thought that half the people polled didn’t approve of him was daunting, though. “Lots of room for improvement.”
“We’re seeing many comments on the POTUS social media accounts about how it’s high time for some young blood and new ideas in the White House. For every person that doesn’t approve of you being the youngest president in history, ten more think you’re just what we need.”
“I guess that’s something,” Nick said, certain his upcoming thirty-eighth birthday wasn’t going to do him any favors, as it would remind people once again just how young he was, although he could feel the job aging him at a rapid clip.
He wondered if his hair would turn gray or white while he was in office like it had for so many previous presidents. Cheery thoughts.
“It’s a good place to start,” Terry said of his approval rating. “Dr. Flynn is here and was wondering if he could have a minute.”
“Of course. Ask him to come in.”
“I’ll be back to get you for the ceremony.”
Nick checked his watch, saw it was edging closer to six and wondered if Sam would get there in time. Or if she’d even remembered she was supposed to come. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d forgotten, so he sent her a quick text to remind her the press event to announce Gretchen was at six thirty.
Harry came into the office as Nick’s lead Secret Service agent, John Brantley Jr., appeared in the door, signaling that he needed a minute.
“Just one second, Harry,” Nick said as he went to confer with Brant.
“Vernon has let us know that Lieutenant Holland sustained a wound to her arm in a shooting,” Brant said. “She’s being taken to GW Trauma, but the wound is not considered life threatening.”
Nick heard the words coming from Brant, and he understood what the agent was saying, but hearing that she’d had another near miss was like a shot to Nick’s heart. The wound is not considered life threatening… But a few inches to the left or right, and it’d be a whole other story.
“Mr. President?”
Nick focused on Brant.
“Is there anything we can do for you, sir?”
“No, thank you. If you hear any more, please let me know.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nick turned to walk back into the Oval Office on legs that felt oddly rubbery, the way they did anytime he was reminded of how dangerous her work could be.
“Everything all right?” Harry asked.
“Apparently not.” He told his friend what’d happened to Sam. “I’d go there, but I’ve got to be here for Gretchen Henderson’s nomination announcement.” Every part of him wanted to go to Sam, and he hated that he couldn’t. “Let me check in with Freddie and see how she is.”
“Do whatever you need to.”
Nick used the secure BlackBerry they’d given him for personal use to make the call to Freddie. Thankfully, Freddie answered the call from an unavailable number.
“Detective Cruz.”
“It’s Nick. How is she?”
“She’s okay. We just got to GW, and Dr. Anderson is with her now.”
Nick felt better knowing her doctor friend was caring for her. “Will you text me when you hear an update?”
“I will, and I’ll make sure she gets home when they let her out of here.”
“Thanks, Freddie.”
“No problem.”
Nick ended the call and passed the info along to Harry. “She got lucky. Again. I have nightmares wondering when her luck will run out.”
“She’s okay, Nick.” He appreciated that Harry dropped all the formality at a moment like this. “I know it’s got to be so hard to hear that she’s hurt, but she’s okay.”
“This time.” Nick made an effort to shake off the sick feeling that always came with hearing she’d been hurt on the job. “Anyway, what’s up with you?”
“It’s nothing that won’t keep.”
“I’m fine, Harry. Really. What’s on your mind?”
“I was going to ask if I might borrow a corner of your White House for some personal business on Christmas Eve.”
“Do tell.”
“I’m going to propose to Lilia, and I thought it might be fun to do it here.”
“That’s fantastic news, and my house is your house. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Nick extended a hand to his close friend. “Congratulations, pal. She’s amazing and perfect for you.”
“She really is. I waited a long time for her, and she’s made that long wait so worth it.”
“When it’s right, it’s right.”
“Exactly. You’ll be my best man, right?”
“I’d be honored.”
“My mom will flip her lid about me having the president as my best man,” Harry said, grinning.
“She’s known me for years,” Nick replied. “Nothing to flip her lid about.”
“You really don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?”
“How exciting it is for the rest of us to see you here,” Harry said, gesturing to the iconic office. “My mom has known you for years as my friend, but not as her president. That’s a whole other level.”
“It’s just still so weird, you know?”
“I do, and the way it happened makes it harder to wrap your head around it, but you’re doing great. People are excited about your presidency.”
“Not everyone.”
“Pish,” Harry said, “as my grandmother would say. Focus on the positive and ignore the detractors. They’re going to be there no matter what you do. Don’t give them any mental energy.”
“That’s easier said than done, but I’m trying to follow that plan. I can only do what I can do and hope for the best, right?”
“Exactly. You’re giving the job your best effort, and that’s all anyone can ask, even if it’s not enough for some people.”
Terry returned a few minutes later to tell Nick it was time to go to the East Room for the announcement about Gretchen Henderson.
“Since it looks like my date is going to stand me up,” Nick said to Harry, “will you join me?”
“I’d love to.”