Page 55 of Accepted Precedent
“I’m not qualified to answer anything about this. Why aren’t you calling Tim?”
“Are you or are you not Ileah Vasileiou?” I hate that she’s suffering just like Evelyn has. Both women are more accomplished than their husbands but have nothing to show for it other than a diamond ring on their left hand. “Last time Ichecked, you were Ivy League educated and practiced law for many years prior to your marriage to Senator McKinnon. Your father sits on the Supreme Court, thanks to my own father’s help—may his faithful soul rest at the right hand of God. You, Mrs. McKinnon, are more qualified than your husband to discuss this.”
“If you want to donate to my husband’s campaign, you don’t need my help to do it,” she counters with a little more fire.
“Aye, but what I would like to propose is a partnership. If your husband doesn’t win in the upcoming election, and Christopher Blake does, the delicate balance in the Senate could be in jeopardy. I’ll ensure you have the funds to reelect your husband, and when I require your assistance over the next year, you’ll help when needed.”
“Again, why are you not asking Tim?” She huffs a humorless laugh. “I can’t help with anything, I’m just his wife.”
“You’re so much like your father.” I shake my head “You’re the future of this country, not Timothy. Give it some thought and enjoy your appointment, Mrs. McKinnon.”
I hang up and blow out a long breath. Regardless of my brother’s feelings, we need Tim to win. If we can’t secure Delaware, and Christopher makes a play for the White House, we could lose more than a presidential term—we could lose all of it.
Chapter 24
Kristin
TWO WEEKS LATER
Ican’t remember the last time I attended a gala fundraiser. I’ve always avoided them. The obscene wealth of those attending sours my stomach. The men and women at the gala come from generations of old money, most of whom have never worked a minimum-wage job in their life. Evelyn and I never had anything handed to us—we even paid for our college education through academic scholarships and working full-time jobs. I clawed my way to the top.
While it was beautiful, things felt out of place. Though, I could attribute it to being distracted by my tasks for the evening. The ballroom was set up with round banquet tables, much like the ones I’d bussed during wedding season when I was younger. It lacked character. There were crimson touches throughout, but I would’ve expected more pink, seeing as it’s a fundraiser to preserve cherry blossoms.
It’s been a busy evening for me and the Gallagher brothers. Finn is dealing with Alex, and Mickey has been busy scaring the shit out of Chris. If Christopher isn’t careful, he’ll end up in a shallow grave. I wouldn’t be the least bit upset by that outcome.
Mick and Alexander Blake participated in the bachelor auction, raising millions for the charity. Everything went as planned, with planted attendees bidding on the men. Alex is as obsessed with Jaclyn as Mickey is with my sister. If either had been won by a random woman—or man—I’d be out of a job and would be at the bottom of the Potomac faster than you can saycherry blossom.
Mickey has left me in charge of the hit on Tim’s opponent, making sure it can't be traced back to the Gallaghers. Not only am I orchestrating a murder, I also have to keep an eye on the incompetent wedding coordinator who planned Jaclyn’s wedding, Lisa. If she steps out of line, I’ll also need to take care of her as well.
The night may end up bloodier than expected. It’s a good thing I have Ned on speed dial.
I make my way up to my room, which is strategically located across from our mark for the night. Once inside, I take a moment to collect myself and change out of my black gown I’ll never wear again—I’ll donate it as soon as I’m back home to one of those organizations that provides prom dresses to anyone who can’t afford one.
In the morning, this will all be over, and I’ll be on my couch with warm oatmeal smothered in brown sugar, binging trash TV. I’m four episodes behind on my favorite dating show, and so help me, if the girl picks the asshole real estate investor over the sweet, neurodivergent veterinarian, I’m going to cancel my streaming service.
Mickey’s planned power outage starts in fifteen minutes, giving our hitman plenty of time to get in, murder a guy, and get out undetected. I slip on my favorite silk pajamas and pour a glass ofchilled white wine that I paid entirely too much for in the shop downstairs. Sav blanc and phone in hand, I begin my stakeout at the door, checking the peephole every minute or so.
The lights shut off and the emergency lights glow in the hallway. I switch on my portable lantern and take a long, deep breath.
It’s showtime.
With my eye glued to the peephole, I wait… and wait… and wait. The anticipation is killing me. Where the hell is this guy? We only have a short window to get this done.
I open my door and check the hallway. There’s a man pacing at the end of the hall, wringing his hands. If it’s the hitman, why is he nervous? He stops and glances up. I quickly shut my door, but if he didn’t see me, he definitely heard it close. A moment later, there’s a knock and my heart leaps into my throat. I check the peephole and breathe a sigh of relief—it’s just Finn. I open the door, but before I can get a word out, he’s guiding me inside and closing the door behind him.
“We have a problem,” he groans, making a beeline for the small fridge.
“You think?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ve been waiting for the guy you hired to do his fucking job, but he’s a no-show.”
Finn pulls out two miniature bottles of whiskey. “You’ll need to take care of it.”
“Me? What? Why? This is above my pay grade, Mr. Gallagher.”
“I’ll triple your salary,” he insists without skipping a beat. Pouring the whiskey into short water glasses, he drinks one in two quick gulps, then hands me the other. “Do you own a gun?”
“Yes,” I reply carefully.
“Good. Then you can take care of the arsehole across the way.”
