Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“We’re one signature away from pushing this through the House and Senate, sir. We’d really appreciate your support.” Sam squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry. I like you and your father, but I just think this will stir up too much trouble.”
She could imagine Senator Drake standing in his office, with his belly flopping over his belt and his tail between his legs.
“With all due respect, sir, if you’re scared about some Russian plot to attack anyone on board with this proposal, well, you don’t need to worry. The days of KGB spies in the U.S. are over.” Well, she hoped they were, at least.
“You were at the Summit in Brussels in July. You saw how tense things were between Ukraine and Russia. The timing of this—”
“The timing is necessary.” Her fists touched the desk, and she pushed upright to stand, irritation scuttling up her spine.
If Drake was out, that only left her with one more option, and she couldn’t imagine the amount of smooth-talking and ass-kissing she’d have to do to get Senator Abrams’s vote tonight.
“Reconsider coming to the benefit next week, then. You’ll see we do have some Russian support for this.
There will be a lot of heads of state there, even former President Jones is on board. ”
“And why isn’t President Rydell attending?” He paused for only a second. “I’ll tell you why—he knows it’s a bad idea to be stirring up trouble over there.”
She inwardly groaned, stifling her frustration the best she could. “Please, can you just hear me out?”
There was a pause, which gave her a pebble of hope. “Senator—”
“My family has gotten threats, Samantha,” he said in a low voice.
She took a moment to consider his words. “Senator Drake, we all get threats. This is D.C., but we can’t succumb to manipulation.”
“I’m sorry. Please tell your father my answer is no. Good day.”
The call ended, and she dropped back onto the worn leather chair. “Threats,” she mumbled. How many threats did she get on a weekly basis? She’d never be able to do her job if she let anonymous messages scare her out of leaving her house.
A soft hiss of irritation left her lips and she tossed her phone on the desk. “Shit.” She reached for the framed photo her cell had knocked over.
A familiar lump gathered quickly in her throat as she stared at the picture of her and Brad.
Promise me we’ll die old and gray together, she’d asked of him before he’d left for deployment.
It’s unlucky to make promises about coming back. Brad had leveled her with his words.
“Miss McCarthy?”
Sam dropped the photo as if she’d been caught tampering with evidence in a case or conspiring against the U.S.
It was a photo, she reminded herself. But it was a photo she’d clung to, always keeping it visible as if someday Brad would come back to her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Sam did her best to shrug away the memories as if that were even possible.
Of course, for years, she’d buried herself in work so she wouldn’t continue down the “rabbit hole,” as her father liked to call it, of trying to find the terrorist who’d killed Brad and his best friend during a SEAL operation.
“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and positioned the photo back in its normal spot before peeling her focus up to her admin, Liz. “Are you ever going to give in and call me Sam?”
Liz’s light green eyes creased at the edges. “Best I can do is Miss Samantha.”
“After all these years?” Sam chuckled lightly. “I guess I’ll take it, though.” She clasped her hands on the desk and angled her head. “So, is everything okay?”
“No. Senator Abrams called, and he had to cancel dinner tonight.”
Damn it. “Did he say why, or when he can reschedule?”
Liz’s lips puckered as if she didn’t want to tell her the news.
“What is it?” She pressed back in her seat and gripped the arms of her chair.
“He found out your father’s in Russia and that he wouldn’t be in attendance tonight. He didn’t want to meet with only you, I guess.”
She needed to be able to share the good news at the benefit in Russia next week—that they had enough support from Congress to push forward with her proposal. With Drake out, and Abrams unwilling to meet today, she might be screwed.
“You’re the daughter of the chairman for the Intelligence Committee, you’d think Abrams would be a little more respectful toward you.”
“Abrams thinks women are good for only one thing.” Sex.
“I’m guessing your call with Senator Drake didn’t go well, then?”
She drummed her fingers atop her smartphone. “Drake is a coward.” Plus a few other words, but she’d keep them to herself. “I’ll reach out to my father and see if he can get Abrams on the phone. Dad will have to work some magic from Moscow.”
“He’s pretty great at brokering deals. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Let’s hope so, or else, everything could fall apart.”
“You really think it’ll be a deal-breaker at the Sven Group Benefit without announcing you’ll have the backing of Congress?”
“You know how lucky we are to get the support of a Russian billion-dollar defense company to support our efforts?” Her cheeks filled with air before she let her breath go. “We can’t show up empty-handed.”
“Well, if anyone can make it happen, you and your father can.” Liz smiled. “I have everything set up and confirmed for your trip Tuesday. Do you need anything else before I head out on vacation?”
“No, but thank you.” She glanced in the direction of the door. “Hopefully, the interns can hold down the fort while we’re all gone.”
Liz lightly shook her head. “I don’t know about that.” She smiled, but then her lips slanted into a frown when her attention veered to the lone framed photo on Sam’s desk. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with me leaving?”
“Of course. You and your husband deserve to have some cocktails on a beach now that your kids are off at college. Go and relax.”
“Okay,” she said before a heavy sigh followed. “I just hate thinking about you here all alone with Saturday being the ten-year-anniversary . . . maybe I should’ve picked a different week to be gone?”
Sam forced her signature fake D.C. smile, which she only reserved for politicians or situations like these. “I’ll be good. Promise.” She’d do her best not to allow sadness to bait her into its bear trap, at least.
“Okay, then.” Liz’s blues softened. “Well, I have to catch a flight to Fiji. Good luck next week. And stay safe. Rostov-on-Don is so close to the Ukrainian border—”
“I know, I know,” she said.
Sam’s mom frequently went on trips with her father, but in this case, her dad didn’t want her anywhere near the benefit in case there were separatist protests—and, if any of the threats they’d received actually did come to fruition.
Her dad couldn’t stop Sam from going, though. Hell, this was really her baby, not his.
“The goal is to alleviate the tension in the border zone,” Sam noted. “I can’t exactly show up in an armored vehicle flanked by Secret Service. No one will believe it can ever be safe and peaceful over there then.”
Liz squinted one eye. “If your dad has your mom being guarded at their house in Arlington, thousands of miles away from the event, surely, you’ll have some protection, too?”
She blew out an exhausted breath. “Of course, but I don’t want to make a show of it.”
“Well, I don’t know how you do it, but the world’s lucky to have someone like you.” She winked a blue eye.
“Now, go have some fun!” Sam shooed her away with her hand and waited for her to leave before looking back at the photo on her desk. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach returned, and she leaned forward and reached for the frame.
Brad was on one knee in the picture, with her hand between his palms.
Her best friend, Emily, had been hiding at the tavern, in position to capture the engagement.
Three weeks later, he’d been killed on an operation in Iraq.
Ten years. Ten damn years on Saturday since Brad had been stolen from her.
Life wasn’t fair.
“Miss McCarthy?”
Sam looked up to see the office’s newest intern, Phillip, standing in the doorframe, and it had her drawing in a quick breath to get her mind focused back on work, yet again.
Phillip’s inexperience gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look whenever he entered her room. He was wide-eyed and impressionable, not yet tainted by Washington; she hoped she could keep him from turning to what she’d dubbed over the years as the D.C. Dark Side.
“Um, a deliveryman dropped off an envelope for you.” His brown eyes met hers.
“You can just set it on my desk. Thanks.” She smiled, hoping to weaken some of his nervous energy.
He slowly entered the room, but there was something off.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, it’s sort of weird, ma’am.”
She straightened in her seat and reached for the mailer, and his gaze traveled to the ink that peeked out from her sleeve as she took it from him. “Weird how?”
He pointed to the front of the envelope. “It just has your last name on it.”
“You didn’t ask Shawn who it was from?”
“Shawn didn’t deliver it. It was someone else, and the guy just insisted you have it ASAP, and that I give it to you personally.”
“So, a man you didn’t recognize handed you an envelope, and you just took it?” If she weren’t a professional, she would’ve rolled her eyes and planted a palm to her forehead.
“He couldn’t get by security without showing some form of identification, right?” He lifted his shoulders, and red fanned across his cheeks. “Before I realized the envelope didn’t look official, he’d already left my desk.”
She dropped the mailer on her desk. “Get security. I want him tracked down.”
“Why? I-I don’t—”
“Just do it.”
He hurried out of the office, and she crossed her arms, tucking her thumbnail between her teeth as she warily eyed the envelope.
Ideas ran through her head for the next few minutes until Phillip returned.
With his hands pressed to his knees, he took a moment to gather a few quick breaths. “Sorry. I tried to catch him myself. I thought I’d have a better chance since I knew what he looked like.”
“And?” But she knew the answer.
“He didn’t go out the front door, and by the time I caught sight of him at the back exit of the building, he’d already disappeared into a black SUV.”
“Plate number? Make and model?”
“Range Rover, I think.” He shook his head. “But, uh, there wasn’t a plate.”
The envelope was paper-light; it couldn’t contain an explosive, but something sure as hell felt off about it. “Security,” she sputtered in a rush. “Get them here right now.”