Page 56 of Love Me Knot

I issue a tolerant smile toward Jackson and redirect my attention to Harding. “My husband may not be willing to condemn these mercenary animals outright, but I will.”

Skin, posing as a server, approaches with a slight bow. “Dinner is served, ma’am.” He gestures toward the patio and guides us to the head table.

“Congressman, please,” I say, pointing to the center setting. “You are the guest of honor.”

I signal Jackson to sit to Harding’s left and move to the congressman’s opposite side. When Harding pulls out my chair, I catch Sadie watching from the adjacent table. She winks, telling me the night couldn’t be going any better.

Jackson and Harding have to remove their masks to eat, a calculated move. They’re the only ones in attendance wearing full face masks. Jackson’s face and true, verifiable identity will put Harding at ease. The choice for Harding means we will have photographic evidence to go with our voice recordings.

The servers bring out the first course, and Jackson shifts his chair back to deliver his rehearsed welcome speech. Considering Harding’s behavior thus far, I stand before Jackson can and do it myself.

“Friends, esteemed guests, welcome. I am honored that you would commit time from your busy schedules to confront a dangerous practice affecting our military’s courageous men and women.”

Jackson

“Good men and women like my husband struggle to stay alive while these greedy mercenaries play dirty with better pay and equipment. The government should devote the defense budget_our tax dollars_to our troops and only our troops.”

Chelsea’s voice softens, showing off her skill as an actress. “Each of you, or someone you love, was directly harmed by the war-for-profit machine. It’s time for this practice to stop. Let the better pay and equipment go to our fighting men and women. You’re here tonight to help bring about this change. Winning this battle is too much for one man, even a powerful congressman.”

She pauses and looks at Harding, beaming a megawatt smile for him. The man preens, feeding off the attention. Chelsea continues her speech, eyes still on Harding. “There is more to be done.” Chelsea turns to look over the staged crowd again. “I trust we can count on you to help turn this tide. Thank you.”

The collective actors applaud, and some yell out for Harding to speak. Never one to miss an opportunity, he stands and rests a hand on Chelsea’s bare shoulder. The man addresses the crowd, but I don’t notice anything except how his fingers caress Chelsea’s skin. “This is a big job and an important one. There are those in the Pentagon who agree, and with their backing and support from you and others like you, we will see change.”

My eyes jolt forward at his incriminating statement. No way he just said that. I seek out the PMC leader to confirm what I heard, and Sadie winks at me through her mask. One step closer.

The rest of the meal goes forward without any fanfare. Chelsea carries the conversation with Harding, leaving me out of it for the most part. Harding doesn’t seem to miss me, which I take to be part of the plan. By now, I understand which character role Chelsea has settled into. And I hate it just as much as her.

Chelsea’s accomplished subversion continues after dinner, pointing out people in the crowd and sharing their fake stories, wealth, and willingness to throw money at the problem. Harding is enraptured, at times touching Chelsea’s hand or leaning too close to whisper to another man’s wife_who he thinks is another man’s wife, anyway.

Chelsea is perfectly charming, as I knew she would be. She’s a master at becoming that which a person most identifies with, except with me. I don’t mind because I want the real Chelsea, and right now, another man is touching her.

Dessert and drinks are announced in the garden and pool area. Chelsea slips her arm around Harding’s and leads him around to meet specific people with rehearsed backgrounds. I follow them like a puppy wanting to be played with, the role I was to assume if all Harding’s attention went to Chelsea.

My mask is in my hand as I had no interest in putting it back on. The damned thing irritated the shit out of me. Harding’s mask sits on the table, likely because he preferred his face to be on full display.

Fish walks to the edge of the lanai and signals for me. Since no one notices I’m here, I walk away to follow him inside. “O’Reilly and Knot are watching, and O’Reilly thinks Chelsea will get more from Harding if you’re not there. Find someone else to talk to. Oh, and Pin, try to look like you’re not about to rip the man’s arm off.”

I flip off my B squad leader and walk back outside. All the SEALs have the benefit of wearing radios, so they’re all aware of my state and new orders. Skin intercepts me on the lanai, wearing a server uniform and carrying a tray of champagne.

“Here, you look like you could use this.” He hands me a tumbler of whiskey from behind his back. “Make it last. It’ll be the only one you get.”

I walk past Chelsea and Harding, who now has a hand resting against Chelsea’s back. My blood boils, and I turn toward them. I only make it one step before my name is called from poolside. Bandaid waves me over, and I grudgingly approach him.

The doctor claps me on the shoulder and pulls me close. “I’ve got a syringe loaded with sedatives in my pocket. Don’t make me use it.”

I try to pull from his grip, but his fingers squeeze, holding me in place. “Stand down, Lieutenant. You’re under orders to hang out with me for a while.”

Planting my feet, I shake off the doctor’s grip and turn to look over my shoulder. Chelsea and Harding are heavily engaged in conversation and ignoring everyone else here. Turning to face Bandaid again, I demand, “Give me your radio.”

“Pardon?”

“I want your radio, Myers. Give it to me.”

He listens to the powers that be for a moment before handing it over. As soon as I position the device in my ear, Chelsea’s sultry voice comes through loud and clear. “I hope you’ll contact me if I can help. Jackson has a hard job and can’t tell me anything about it. I wouldn’t know anything about this problem at all if it weren’t for hearing about these awful occurrences on the news.”

“Your support would mean the world to me. Thank you.”

My back remains to the pair, though it’s difficult to hold still. Harding’s honeyed words drip with filthy intention.

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