Page 56 of Power Games

"Along with your fingertip, no doubt," Theodore said, dark and menacing.

She didn't like that voice at all. It was even more frightening than the one he used when he caught her reading after curfew.

"And yet, I strangely find them still attached."

"Please, please, sir, I—"

"Lewis, would you mind doing something about that?"

The man yelled then. A blood-curdling sound that made Vanessa feel sick, dizzy. The screaming ended on a series of sobs.

"I...Theodore, please. My family. My son is just—"

"Don't you talk to me about family. The intel you sold ensures a dozen sons will return to their fathers in fucking caskets. Tell me. Who is your buyer?"

Vanessa remained curled up on the floor, hands around her knees as more screams, more pleas, and more accusations flew.

In the end, the man talked. She was young and naive enough to think that it was over.

It wasn't. There was one sound left. A loud shockwave that practically slapped her in the face. She knew that sound. She'd been at a gun range a time or two with her father. Most of the time, she'd observed, but some places had allowed her to try a handgun as long as her dad said it was okay. Vanessa had found it fun, although she was quite dreadful at it.

But she knew that sound.

Vanessa had no idea who held the bullet on the other side of the wall. It was her father's voice that said, "Clean it up. We need to get on top of this mess. Our men have to pull back before there're more casualties."

It was the first time she realized the lengths her father would go to for his duties. She didn't speak to him for days, avoiding him as much as she could. But later that week, on TV, she heard him speak about the ten men who'd died in an ambush. Some of them weren’t even as old as Tristan. So that night, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and forced herself to squeeze.

She hadn't known her father was a monster before. Now she did. But she also knew there were worse monsters in the world.

As the years passed, Vanessa had a better understanding of the world around her. By the time her family left the White House, she knew treason wasn't the only reason why Theodore killed. Sometimes, it was out of greed. Sometimes, it was out of fear. Always, it was about retaining power.

She smiled as she entered the library. "Henry. Glad to see you."

The ‘boy,’as her father called him, was around her age, if not older. He was devastatingly handsome; his Japanese mother's features paired well with his father's large frame. His handshake was quite firm, too.

"Did my father talk to you about the job requirements?"

Henry shrugged. "I'm putting myself through school. Any job that pays McNamara-level of money sounds good, particularly if I don't have to put up with Tristan."

She grinned. Didn't she know the feeling.

"Come, have a seat. Well, the next six weeks will be very busy; I have various duties I need to perform, and my schedule is going to be all over the place."

"Schedule management." He nodded. "Got it."

"In a few weeks, I'll go back home to LA, but I will still need an assistant based here to coordinate things and lay some groundwork for me. Social outreach, sniffing into the communities that need help, that sort of thing. I want you to keep it under wraps, though."

He gasped. "You mean you want to pay me to do some good, and you don't even want to take credit?" He nodded like he'd just understood something. "You were adopted, then."

She snorted. "Hardly. I'm no innocent, might as well tell you now. I want it to stay under wraps until it's the right time to use it."

Henry laughed. "No, you're a McNamara all right. Fine. I've dealt with my fair share of Machiavellians in my life. What's another one?"

She was already enjoying his spirit.

"I like tea," she added. "Fancy tea. I may sometimes send you miles away to pick up tea."

"My mother is Japanese," he reminded her. "Tea is sacred. I make a very good ceremonial tea if required."

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