Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“So . . .” It’d been years since Knox had engaged in small talk.
As the son of a politician, he’d learned the subtle art as well as the finesse necessary to talk in circles, making everyone dizzy while impressing them at the same time.
After a while, he’d gotten used to it, but those days were long gone.
He no longer talked for the sake of talking.
He and the guys—well, they didn’t fill space with unnecessary words. But as the Chevy approached the FBI building on the outskirts of Charlotte, he wanted to jam every inch of space possible with words if it meant slowing them down.
“What’s up?” Liam asked. “Getting cold feet?”
“No,” he said. “But, um, how’s Elaina? Anything new?” He attempted to dust off his son-of-a-politician wheels and deflect.
When he turned and glanced back at Liam, he was met with an Are you kidding? look. “You mean anything new since you saw her last weekend at the barbecue?”
“Uh, yeah.” Okay, so he now sucked at small talk. But he did genuinely care about Liam’s daughter, and he’d much rather talk about her.
“Well, she’s got a date. His name is Kenny. Emily’s taking them to the movies Friday.” He shifted back and tipped his head to the ceiling.
“You should’ve stayed in D.C. I would’ve understood,” Knox said in all seriousness.
“Emily knows how to shoot, remember?”
True. His wife had taken down an assassin in her apartment last year.
“And since when do nine-year-olds date?” Wyatt asked from behind the wheel.
“Since she informed me that she’s almost ten, and since Kenny reminds her of a young Clark Kent. Do I want to know what that means?”
“Emily is letting this happen?” A.J. asked in surprise.
“Elaina has a way of wrapping you both around her pinky,” Wyatt said with a laugh.
“Don’t get me started.” Liam slapped a hand to his heart. “I’m gonna get a bloody ulcer. If I think about this Kenny kid with my Elaina—I might put my fist through a concrete wall.”
“And ruin your trigger finger?” At least Knox was distracted now. Thank God.
“You run a background check on him?” A.J. spun his American flag ball cap backward.
“He’s not in the system,” Liam grumbled. “But his dad’s a reporter, and his mom’s a doctor.”
“Reporter? Well, shit.” A.J. tsked. “End that and fast.”
“Guys. Speaking of the media, we’re not getting in that building without walking through a wall of press.” Wyatt’s voice was grave, a stark contrast from moments ago.
Knox turned to face forward in his seat and peered out the tinted windows. “Maybe they can let us in through some secret back door?” His stomach roiled at the thought of all the people who’d be clamoring to shove a mic in his face.
“Still gotta go through security, especially since we’re here as civilians.” Wyatt pulled the Suburban into the parking lot and parked at the back.
“We’ll have to plow through them in a hurry,” A.J. said before climbing out of the SUV. “We’ve got your back, though.”
Knox put on his black and red Falcons hat before they made their way through the parking lot and toward the entrance.
Liam and A.J. flanked his left and right respectively, and although Wyatt strode in front of Knox to keep him from being seen, someone must’ve sensed his presence, because a chorus of voices hollered out his name.
Every reporter turned toward them like a pack of dogs at the smell of bacon. Bam!—they were on him and fast.
“Charlie Bennett!” His name was nails on a chalkboard out of one man’s mouth.
He hadn’t missed this. Not for a damn second.
“Are you here because your father was the target of an assassin? Or are you finally joining his campaign?”
“How do you feel about someone trying to kill your father?”
“Why haven’t you been on the campaign trail? Do you not support your father’s run for presidency?”
“Rumor has it you had a falling out with your father—is there a reason he shouldn’t become the next president? What’s the true story?”
“What have you really been up to for the last seven years?”
“Back off!” A.J. roared, and Knox caught sight of the vein throbbing at the side of his neck.
“And who are you?” A middle-aged reporter shoved a microphone in A.J.’s face, and Knox winced at the very real possibility that A.J. would knock the guy out.
“We’re his protection,” A.J. seethed, taking a step toward the man. Knox grabbed hold of his arm, urging him to back down.
It wasn’t easy being in the spotlight, especially for the teams. In their line of work, it was something they actively avoided, and the last place they should’ve been.
Eva’s Hollywood family had been the main source of Luke’s apprehension about marriage, but if Luke could navigate the bright lights of the press without hitting anyone, Knox would do his damned best, too.
“How the hell do you deal with that garbage?” A.J. asked once they were safely inside.
“I don’t. I left that life behind,” Knox said.
“You leave your family name, or lordship, whatever you Brits call it, for the same reason?” A.J. prodded.
They’d only learned last year Wyatt had ditched his lineage and changed his last name when he’d become a U.S. citizen. He hadn’t talked much about it since dropping the truth bomb, and Knox was in no hurry to push. He understood Wyatt’s wish to leave his past where it belonged . . . in the past.
“I left for other reasons,” Wyatt said when a woman in a black pantsuit approached them, her heels clicking across the floor. Her gaze laser-sharp on them. A touch of anger in her brown eyes. Yeah, she probably worked for Knox’s dad.
“Shonte Stevens.” She continued to appraise Knox as if deciding why in the hell the son of a presidential candidate would only now make an appearance.
Yeah, he was about as low as one could get on approval ratings in her eyes.
A possible roadblock to his father’s success.
An obstacle to deal with. “I’m your father’s campaign manager.
I’ve been waiting for you.” Her dark brown eyes tightened on Knox’s face.
“Let’s get you through security, and I’ll bring you to your parents. ”
“How’s my mom?” he asked once they were in the elevator.
“She’s handling it better than anyone expected. But that’s Kathleen Bennett for you.” She motioned for them to follow her after the doors opened, which revealed an office bustling with uniforms and plain-clothes officers.
He spotted his mom talking to an old friend of hers on the other side of the floor. Five-ten without heels. Dyed blonde hair that offered the appearance of being natural—best hair color money could buy. And her red pantsuit made her stand out all that much more in the sea of dark suits.
“Charlie!” Her hand shot up in the air, and she immediately started for him, her friend forgotten.
“Damn, your mom looks like a hot Kim Basinger,” A.J. muttered, elbowing him in the side.
“Is there a non-hot version of Basinger?” Wyatt asked.
“This is my mom, guys,” Knox chided, preferring not to know his friends thought of his mother as any kind of hot.
He crossed the busy office space with long strides and met his mom halfway, then pulled her in for a tight hug.
She’d never been much of a crier, but there were legit tears in her eyes.
Shonte Stevens had been right about his mom. Kathleen Bennett would collect her composure and command her tears not to fall, but seeing the gloss causing her blue eyes to shimmer rattled him.
“You okay? Dad?” he asked after letting go.
She pulled back her shoulders and straightened her white silk blouse beneath her red blazer.
When her eyes cut to him, there was a moment her face betrayed her true concern for what had happened earlier.
The moment was a blink in the space of time, though.
She’d returned to the wife of a senator in a nanosecond.
“You know him. Unphased. Worried about missing the next event.” She glanced at Knox’s buddies as they closed in on them. “Thanks for getting him here safely.” A tight, toothless smile crossed her face.
“Ah, Knox can handle himself, but we were happy to come with,” Liam said.
“You remember Glenn Sterling, right?” She motioned to the tall, distinguished man at her right, who had government carved into every line of his face.
“You haven’t been around in quite some time.” Glenn reached for Knox’s hand. “What’s it been? Fifteen years since I’ve seen you?”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” He forced a smile, the kind he’d learned from his father growing up. Toothy and fake, but not too much tooth, so it looked believable. “How’s your wife? Daughter?”
“Nancy died a few years back. Lung cancer. I never could get her to quit smoking.” His light blue eyes shifted briefly to the floor. “But Sarah’s great. She’s a world-class surgeon over at the Cleveland Clinic now.”
Knox had been in med school with Glenn’s daughter. Sarah had obviously finished, unlike him. “Sorry to hear about Nancy.”
“Glenn’s the Department of Homeland’s deputy secretary,” his mom quickly said as if trying to squash any sudden awkwardness at the mention of Glenn’s late wife. “He came here to make sure the investigation was going okay.”
“Your mom and I go way back, and I can promise you, son, I won’t let anything happen to her.” He patted him on the shoulder.
Wyatt leaned in and whispered, “This place is way too crowded.”
The teams were used to operating solo and off the grid. Being thrown into a room packed to the gills with unfamiliar people made them all twitchy.
“Did you know FBI Director Mendez was going to be here?” A.J. asked, and Knox followed his line of sight.
Mendez was holding a tablet in hand and talking to a team of men Knox guessed to be his dad’s private security. Hopefully former security after their fuckup today.
“President Rydell placed him in charge of the investigation,” Glenn said. “I’m gonna go have a word with him.”
“Where’s Dad?” Knox looked at his mom.
“Second office on the right.” She hooked her arm with his.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to the guys.