Page 7 of End Game

Tonight, the sharks encircled North Carolina’s Governor Victoria Stokes. The woman gearing up to lead the Tar Heel State for another four years. If she won reelection.

It was Kayla’s job to make sure she did.

By feeding the sharks. Or fending them off. Whichever served the governor’s path to reelection best.

Kayla followed the attending donors with a strategic eye. Some she would allow to approach the governor. Others, she would blast out of the surrounding waters with her own version of an electrical shock.

She zeroed in on one of the local mayors, wife in tow, swimming between guests. To the untrained eye, his course seemed meandering, without purpose.

But Kayla recognized a predator honed in on a scent when she saw one. She flashed on what she knew about the mayor. How she could pair his wants to the governor’s. She almost always found something that would benefit both parties.

The politicians and businesspeople present saw in Governor Victoria Stokes a potential vote for their various causes or, if they were on the other side of the fence, a danger to promises they had made to constituents or shareholders. Anyone interested in influencing current policy would seek to curry Vicky’s favor, because, well, it never hurt to have a governor on speed dial.

But Vicky’s friends—her true friends—wanted nothing from her but love.

A distant memory surfaced about the mayor. An unpleasant rumor about domestic abuse that had just enough meat to it to cause Kayla concern. Politicians were always easy targets for the rumor mill. Some of it absurd, some of it disgustingly true.

The mayor whispered something to his wife. A pained look tore across her plain features before she drew her phone from her black clutch, broke away from her husband, and took up a position opposite the governor.

With a nonchalance she’d mastered years ago, Kayla sipped her champagne as she strode toward a quartet of sixty-something women dressed in their finest. All of them friends since their university years. All accomplished, wealthy, influential women. Women Kayla loved and respected like favored aunties.

Kayla wrapped a hand around the governor’s waist and squeezed her close. “Good evening, Aunt Vicky.”

Victoria’s face lit up and she pressed her cheek to Kayla’s. “Hello, sweet pea.”

One would never know by interacting with the governor that she came from Old Money. She presented as someone you’d walk by on the street and smile at without stopping. Brown hair, indistinguishable eye color, average height, accessible and warm to everyone who met her.

Only on further acquaintance would one detect the boarding school education, the family tree that went back ten generations, the houses in Montford and six other cities around the world, and the weight of the most powerful position in the state.

Kayla lowered her voice. “I’m here to save you from Mayor Ward and his impromptu photo op.”

Ever the professional, Vicky didn’t turn and search for the approaching mayor. “How bad?”

When Kayla worked on Vicky’s first gubernatorial election, they’d come up with a series of hand signals, code words, and rating systems to alert her to possible shitstorms.

“If rumors of how he treats his wife are correct, a ten plus.”

“I continue to be in awe of your network of spies.” Vicky’s hold around her waist tightened. “Thank you for having my back.”

“Always.” Out of her peripheral vision, Kayla watched a scowl appear on the mayor’s face before he veered off toward the open bar.

Kayla held back a smile.

The mayor’s wife dropped her phone back in her purse and stalked off in the opposite direction of her husband. Kayla made a mental note to talk to Liv about Mrs. Ward’s situation. Her friend had experience with assisting domestic abuse victims.

“Coast is clear.” She gave her honorary aunt a final squeeze before shifting closer to another member of the quartet. “Amazing turnout, Mama. As always.”

Jillian Krowne’s slender fingers folded over Kayla’s. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

One look at her mother, and Kayla grew concerned. The dark lavender gown complemented her coiffed blond hair, though the garment seemed to hang rather than mold. Her public smile dragged a bit and no amount of concealer could hide the dark shadows at the corners of her eyes.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” she whispered, knowing Jillian always had trouble sleeping the week leading up to a big event like this.

“Oh, dear.” She lifted a hand to her cheek. “Do I look tired?”

“A little.” She smiled, then lied. “Only a daughter would notice.”

“Of course she made it,” a tall, black-haired woman interrupted, stepping forward to wrap Kayla in a warm hug. “Saving wild things is one of our girl’s many passions.”

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