Chapter 3 #2
“We’ll try and see what we can find out from Mendez.” Liam gestured toward the FBI director.
“You look more like my son than a SEAL today,” she commented as they walked.
He hadn’t had time to change out of the pressed white button-down and black slacks he’d worn to the White House.
He considered challenging her words, though. They rubbed him the wrong way. How was he not her son as a SEAL? He’d always thought the heavy hand of his political upbringing had been more from his dad, but maybe his mom’s comments and actions had been more subtle.
He kept his mouth closed since a bullet almost clipped her earlier, and he was thankful to have his mom alive, even if she still had issues with his profession.
“How are you really holding up?” he asked instead.
“You know me. I’m always fine. And I’ve had about a million people calling to check on me today. I’m tired is what I am.” A touch of West Virginia, where she grew up, clung to her words as if still fighting for a place in her life.
“You almost took a bullet, Mom.”
“It’s not the first time someone has come after our family.”
“The other times involved threats and no follow-through.” He pulled his arm free of hers. “This was worse. There was no warning beforehand.” Not that they were aware of, at least.
“Remember Austria? There was that explosion . . . that attack may have been directed toward us. So—”
“It wasn’t.” He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but he still felt guilty about Austria. The explosion was directly related to an op Knox and the teams had been working. Not that he could tell her that. His mom would probably have slapped the back of her hand to her forehead and fainted.
“Charlie.” At the familiar sound of his father’s deep voice, now void of his Southern upbringing, Knox turned.
His dad stood there in his three-piece custom suit that stretched over the length of a body that at sixty-five still exuded strength.
He looked . . . presidential, as if this was just another day at the office and not a moment the history books could’ve captured as the day he died. “Glad you could make it.” He ate up the space between them in a few quick strides and pulled him in for a hug.
Knox froze. He hadn’t hugged his dad in years.
They’d exchanged the “man-hug,” that firm handshake where a guy pulled the other in for a quick slap on the back.
But this was two arms. Chest to chest. It was real.
He didn’t know his dad still knew how to do real.
Real was an I love you that didn’t need to be said, but it was said because you wanted to.
And damn, when was the last time he’d heard those words from either of his parents?
“Son?” A throat clear followed their hug, as if his dad had become aware that his emotions were on display. “Come into the office. Could you give us a minute, honey?”
“Sure.” Her eyes lingered on Knox for a brief moment. And he almost stopped her before she left and asked her what she was thinking, but he didn’t. He let her go because he didn’t always know how to do real with his folks either.
“Please, sit down.” His dad motioned to a brown leather couch on the other side of a large polished desk probably reserved for the bigwigs.
There were family photos and accolades on the wall behind the desk. An American flag on one side. The FBI flag with the motto: Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity, on the other. His dad had probably hijacked a senior FBI agent’s office.
“I’d prefer to stand.” Knox strode to the window and looked between the blinds. They were running out of daylight, and he was anxious to get to the scene of the shooting to assess the area. First, though, they needed permission from the FBI to join the investigation.
“I’m glad you came,” his father rasped.
Surprised, Knox turned to face his father, a man he’d never once heard speak in any manner outside of total strength and confidence. Today had hit a nerve, as it should’ve.
“How long do I have you?”
“Have me?”
He removed his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt to the elbows. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t expect you to do a song and dance. No questions. No public speaking. I know you wouldn’t want that.”
Politicians were adept at twisting and contorting everything to their needs. His father may not expect a “song and dance,” but he’d convince Knox to walk out on a few stages with him. Say a few words.
For now, Knox would shelve his distaste for politics and focus on the fact the shooter missed.
“I was planning on coming down to visit with you and Mom,” he admitted. “The shooting bumped up my schedule. I’m sorry about what happened today.”
“I’m so glad your mom is okay, and no one got hurt because of me.” He slowly lowered himself on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, wearily placing his head in his hands. Grief-stricken. Weak posture.
Who the hell was this man? His father had encountered close calls with death when he served in the military. Had he forgotten those days? Forgotten what it was like to feel death breathing down his neck?
No man or woman should know what it feels like to be in the spotlight of death—but utopia didn’t exist. People like Knox would always be needed.
“This life isn’t easy. I get that.” His dad sat up straight but didn’t look at him. “I never even asked if you wanted to be the son of a politician. Maybe I should’ve asked.”
“And if I’d said no?” He almost smiled. “At thirteen, would you have listened to me?”
“But you would’ve liked to have been asked, right?” He lifted his chin to view him.
He blinked back to his first semester in med school when he’d told his parents over Thanksgiving dinner his change in plans.
“I’m dropping out. This isn’t the life I want.”
“You don’t want to be a doctor?” his mom had asked, her brows popping up in surprise.
“That was your dream for me. Doctor. Senator. Something fancy, right?” He’d tossed his napkin onto his plate and stood from the table—the entire meal had been catered since his mom didn’t know her way around the kitchen to save her life.
“And what is it that you want?” His dad had leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
“I’m joining the Navy. Gonna see if I can get a contract with the SEALs after that.” He’d never forget how fast his heart had been racing like it might beat right out of his chest.
“You don’t belong in the military. You’re not cut out for that life.”
“I’m sure as hell not cut out for this life!” he’d yelled louder than he’d meant to.
His dad had shaken his head. “Wow, what a bad life. You want for nothing. You’ve had the best education money can buy. The—”
“There’s more to life than money and power.” He’d turned his back, unable to look his father in the eyes.
“Don’t you dare join the Navy to spite me. They deserve a better man than that.”
Knox let go of his memories and focused on his dad. “I joined the Navy to piss you off,” he admitted. “You were right.” And if he hadn’t met Luke at BUD/S, who gave him the kick in the ass he needed to get his head on straight, he may not have lasted long in the Navy.
“Well, there are a lot of things I said to you I wish I could take back.”
Like? He wondered if his dad would fill in the blanks.
“I used to think every man, in some way, should serve our country—everyone except my son. But what kind of a leader would that make me if I was willing to let other parents put their kids’ lives on the line but not my own?
” He stood. “I was wrong. And I’m proud of the man you’ve become. The Navy was good for you.”
“I joined for the wrong reasons, but I’m still in for the right ones.”
“But you’re—”
Shit. “I . . .”
The door swung open before he could backpedal. It was Director Mendez. “The agents are en route. Their plane should arrive soon. We’ll take you to your new hotel once it’s been secured.”
“Are you clearing out his floor, and the ones above and below like you do at hotels for POTUS?” Knox asked.
“Rooms on each side of his suite will have agents posted. Above and below as well.” Mendez tipped his head in apology toward Knox’s dad. “Best we could do, but we’re almost done sweeping the hotel and checking guests. You should be able to head over soon.”
“Will we still be able to stick to my schedule?” his dad asked. “I have a fundraiser ball in Atlanta Saturday I can’t miss and a debate Tuesday in Cleveland.”
“Can your VP nom step in for the ball, at least?” Mendez asked.
“No, Bethany’s in California for the week, but I did put in a call to have her security beefed up in case anyone tries to come after her.”
“Good idea,” Mendez said.
“What made you change your mind about Secret Service?” Knox asked his dad.
“Shonte convinced me to get my head out of my ass.” He braced a hand on Knox’s shoulder, holding his eyes. “I’m going to let go of some of my security since they dropped the ball today.”
“Hire Scott and Scott instead. Well, in addition to the Secret Service, I mean.”
“Your company?” His dad lowered his hand. “Why do I get the feeling this is the only way I’ll be able to keep you with me?” His eyebrows drew together.
“I’d feel better knowing my people were with us.”
“You sure this is what you want?” his dad asked.
“What I want is for you to win this election.” Most of the team was getting up there in age in the world of special ops.
Chris, at thirty-six, was the youngest. It was only a matter of time before they were replaced, and they wanted every year they could get.
And hell, they wanted to know they’d be replaced in the future.
New guys to fill their shoes when they were ready to retire.
Because bad guys didn’t take breaks. They usually didn’t have 401Ks to collect from.
So, yeah, his dad had to win. And then he needed to convince him why Bravo and Echo were desperately needed.
“Really?” He flashed him what his mom referred to as his Denzel Washington smile. The physical similarities between the two men were uncanny, though. “Does that mean you’re going to vote for me?”
“Yeah, Dad, you’ve got my vote.” Their best chance at survival was his father.
“Mind if I steal your son, Mr. Bennett?”
He’d nearly forgotten Mendez was in the room.
“Sure.” His dad nodded. “Thanks again for coming, Son.”
Knox followed Mendez to another room two doors down and found Liam, A.J., and Wyatt waiting inside.
“Why do I feel like we’re about to get lectured at by the principal?” A.J. asked when catching Knox’s eyes.
“Because we probably are,” Liam mumbled as Knox took a seat across from them.
Mendez removed his blazer and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair at the table. He was in his fifties, his hair more silver than black, and the lines on his face a sign of stress rather than age.
“I don’t like you all being here.” Mendez never was one to sugarcoat things, which was fine by Knox. He preferred it. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
“I am his son, though.”
“Stop trying to bullshit me. That’s not why you’re here.” Mendez’s brows lowered. “I don’t know how you managed to rope the president into letting you on to this investigation, but if you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to revoke your privileges.”
“Say what?” Knox pushed back, the wheels of his chair sliding on the polished floors. “The president authorized us being here?”
POTUS changed his mind. He was risking his legacy for the teams. They owed him one.
“You expect me to believe you didn’t know?
” Mendez crossed his arms. “We already have a multiagency task force assembled. I’ve got Homeland breathing down my back.
” He threw a hand toward the busy office area on the other side of the door.
“But the bureau is fully capable of handling this, and the last thing I need is a bunch of SEALs running around playing commando.”
A.J. cupped his mouth, hiding a smirk at Mendez’s words.
Either Mendez didn’t know jack shit about the SEALs, or he did, and he was trying to piss them off.
“Liam and Wyatt are two of the best snipers in the country. If anyone should take a look at that crime scene, it’s them.
We’re assets. Not your competition.” Knox’s biceps tightened, but he kept his hands in his lap so he wouldn’t come across overly defensive.
Too much was at stake to get booted. “Let us help you.”
“And what do you get out of it?”
“Easy,” he returned. “I get to ensure my parents stay alive.”