Page 32 of Gator

Gator hovered there, all the while removing her bra and panties, then shoving his briefs to the floor. Laying her back against the pillows, he explored her body with his lips, tongue, fingers, and hands. She tasted of vanilla and sugar, sweetness.

When he had readied her body for him, he rolled on the condom, then he slowly moved inside her, stretching her one inch at a time.

Dylan surprised him by wrapping her legs over his shoulders, inviting him to penetrate deeper. Gripping her thighs, he pushed forward, his lips never leaving hers. Her flexibility was a huge turn-on for him, and there seemed to be no end to it.

Grabbing the bottom of her foot, she smiled at him as she stretched her leg sideways, straight out, the other still linked over his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

“Years of dance and gymnastics,” she smiled, running her tongue along his lips. “Who would have thought this is how it would pay off.”

“Damn, baby.” Gator couldn’t get enough of her sweet taste. Just when he thought he was done with her, she had him hard again, and they were on the floor, then in the shower, then back in the bed. It was nearly two a.m. when he looked at the clock the last time.

With Dylan tucked beneath his arm, her soft flesh molding against his hard planes, he listened to her breathing, feeling it soothe him, lull him to sleep. Just as he was about to close his eyes, he thought he saw Martha and Grip.

“Told you,” said Grip. Martha smiled at him.

“I believe I told you.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Good morning,” said Eric to the room. “Thank you all for coming in for the morning meeting. Dylan, welcome. We’ve received some news that I think everyone will need to hear. Yesterday, President Bodwick called in the two presidential candidates to discuss some of the disturbing things he’d heard around Hanz, Xi, and the others. He’s here to break that down for us.”

Pigsty hit the video screen, and Michael Bodwick was sitting at his private desk dressed in running gear. They all smiled, realizing you could never take the SEAL out of the man.

“Mr. President, go ahead, sir,” said Eric.

“Jesus, are you all such shits? Bodwick or Michael, Eric. You might be twice my size, but I’ll kick your ass if you do that again.” Eric could only chuckle, shaking his head. “Okay, let’s get to this. I met with Frost and Benitez-Cortez yesterday. It was more of a grade school slap on the wrist, telling them I was appalled at some of the things being said. When I confronted them about it, both looked confused. I figured it was some kind of game.

“Then I flipped on the handy-dandy G.R.I.P. voice lie detector beneath my desk. It’s come in very handy during my presidency, by the way. They were both telling the truth. I knew Frost was. We had already spoken. As I started digging, I found out they were experiencing the same problems. Slanderous comments being thrown out on the campaign trails. They were being fed misinformation about the other person saying things about them. It’s all a fucking head game that someone is playing.

“Then I remembered something. Something I should have remembered long before this. Dylan? I know that you said Hanz was never married, but I know for a fact that he was.”

“Wh-what? No. No, how could I not know that?” she asked.

“He did his best to keep it quiet. His wife was the daughter of a business associate. She didn’t want to marry him, and he didn’t want to marry her. When she found out he couldn’t have children, it allowed her to seek an annulment. However, they still maintained a relationship. You see, his wife had sights on the White House.”

The room stilled, staring at Bodwick, then at one another. It wasn’t Benitez-Cortez, so who was it.

“Matilda Cooper Provost,” whispered Dylan.

“Give the beautiful lady the blue ribbon,” grinned Bodwick. “Matilda Cooper Provost was born Marcella Ruiz. Her father sent her to live with her grandmother when she was only one and paid to have her name legally changed to Matilda Cooper. The documents were then hidden and removed from record.”

“How did you remember this?” asked Eric.

“Because I stormed Ruiz’s compound the night the child was removed from the house. He sent a message asking that we allow the child and nanny to leave peacefully. I was in command and allowed it, but never saw the baby or the nanny. We burned down the compound, and Ruiz escaped. That’s why Ruiz is helping Metzger. His daughter is attempting to become the next president of the United States.”

“Damn. We have to stop this,” said Cam. “What did Frost and Benitez-Cortez say?”

“I told them what I suspected, and they both thought it was plausible. They’d had either Metzger, Xi, Ruiz, or Messina at their fund-raising dinners. Romanescu was removed from the country eleven days ago on extradition papers to Australia. He was wanted there for the murder of a man and two women.”

“Well, that’s one down,” frowned Eric. “So, we need to somehow expose Provost for what she is. A fraud.”

“There is another issue,” said Bodwick. “According to the boys in the agency, Provost is psychologically unstable. It’s why you see her voting record all over the place. Depending on the day of the week, the course of her meds, she may not always be in her right mind. It was another reason Metzger was happy to grant the annulment.”

“Great. We’ve got an unstable woman running for office who wants to help a group of criminals get inside the U.S. government.”

“I don’t understand,” said Dylan. “I mean, I understand everything you said, but what does this have to do with Metzger and my father doing business together?”

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