Page 54 of Tempting God

I nod, and he opens the door.

Brooks enters first, followed by Moretti. Hannah rushes across the room, throwing herself into Brooks’ arms.

He hugs her tightly, inhaling deeply. Over her shoulder he mouths ‘thank you’. I dip my head in response.

Moretti says, “Blanc is going to be calling you soon.”

“Why?”

His gaze darts to my team before saying, “I think you know why.”

A heavy feeling settles deep in my gut. Fuck. Of course I knew this was a possibility. Three Elite Members have died in less than eight months, and, despite the Brotherhood’s best efforts, we still do not know who’s killing them.

I glance at Moretti, noticing his busted knuckles.

“Jones is dead?”

Moretti glances at Hannah before saying, “Zhang.”

Shock ricochets through me, but Somya gets my attention before I can ask more questions.

“Sir, the jet is ready.”

I nod. “Of course.”

Moretti says, “Go. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

I dip my head and follow my team from the suite.

Corbin, Somya, and I arrive at the campaign headquarters in Dallas close to midnight. Even though I haven’t lived in Texas in years, they suggested making it my central location. Said my party and voters would appreciate that I’m a good old country boy. I snort at the thought, going to the dry bar in the corner of the room. I haven’t been a good old country boy since I was sixteen and left Texas far behind. But I understand the general idea. Having me out and about in Dallas makes me relatable and attainable to the people, even though it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

After pouring myself a few fingers of whisky, I go to my desk, turning on the TV, going to CNN. My face stares back at me as they talk about my standing in the polls. Fuck. This is bad. Corbin is speaking, but I’m not listening. Not really. Not when an idea is forming. One that’s far too tempting and involves Greer.

I turn to Corbin. “Say that again.”

Corbin clears his throat. “You’re behind in the polls, sir.”

“I heard that part. What did you say after that?”

Corbin glances at Somya. Oh, he’s going to make her say it?

Somya pushes her dark hair behind her ear. “Sir, it’s because you’re single. Senator Ryans is married and has been married for years.”

“And everyone in DC knows it’s a fucking sham.”

She doesn’t flinch at my outburst. “Sham or not, he’s managed to keep his extramarital affairs hidden, so, to the public, he appears more stable. We think you should consider an arranged marriage. Something where both parties understand what’s at stake and understand it’s just business.”

This isn’t the first time this has been suggested to me, but I’ve always been able to shut it down. For some reason, I get the feeling it will not be as easy this time. Because, to some extent, the polls are right. Americans think a married family man is to be trusted.

“Let me hear them.”

“Sir?”

“Your ideas. I’m sure you have some. Or names?”

Somya blinks rapidly, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

Finally, she says, “We have a list of exes that would be appropriate to approach. Lana Lovelace. Penelope Nathanson. Angela Whitmore.”

---