Page 84 of Fight for Me

“And?”

“Totals about a dozen people. I’m looking into them. I also have his meeting schedule from the days before.”

Blane was glad for Kade’s hacking skills. “Anyone who has a grudge?”

“Not that I can see, but I’m still digging. Just wanted to give you an update. I’ll send the list to you. Thought it might cheer you up.”

“Since when have you ever wanted to ‘cheer me up?’” Blane’s voice was sardonic.

“Hey, don’t jump all over my ass, brother. Guess I’m going soft.”

A small smile lifted the corner of Blane’s mouth. “Get back to work,” Blane said.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Blane laughed a little and ended the call.

* * *

The days passed and three weeks later, Blane officially announced his candidacy for president, followed by a rally in Iowa. He was one of five candidates so far. But his polling was double digits over the second most popular candidate. And as he knew would happen, the media focused on his bachelorhood and childlessness. It bit into him because it would make him think of Anne.

He hadn’t tried to contact her, despite looking at her number in his cell more times than he could count. He wanted to solve the mystery of the crash and take it to her as concrete proof. And find out who the real assassin of her brother was, which would be icing on the proverbial cake.

Linda knocked on his office door and he called out for her to come in.

“Latest polling numbers, sir,” she said, handing him a small stack of papers. “Also a list of donors I suggest be invited to your fundraising dinner on Friday.”

Blane held in a sigh. He’d forgotten about that. “Where is it again?”

“The Willard.”

Well, at least the food would be good.

“Um, sir…” She hesitated.

Blane looked up from the papers. “What is it?”

“It’s just that with all the talk about you being a bachelor…perhaps it would be wise to take a date with you.” She shifted from one foot to the other, nervous at bringing up the subject, he assumed.

“I’ll think about it.” The last thing Blane wanted was a temporary date for the dinner, but Linda didn’t need to know that. She was just trying to help.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, sir.” She scurried out the door.

Blane turned back to the paperwork, committing donor names and faces to memory. These were donors who were paying $2,500 per person to attend the dinner. He’d need to gladhand and be charming. The governor of Florida was speaking and introducing him. He was a good man.

His email dinged and he turned to the computer. There weren’t enough hours in the day and he still had to run by the campaign office this evening.

* * *

Anne was glued to the television, watching Blane’s rally in Iowa. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. His charisma was obvious. He held the crowd in the palm of his hand. Cheers and flags waving from the people, and it looked like a few thousand were there. Anne was captivated as well.

She missed him.

A week later was this fundraiser dinner where she watched him enter the Willard hotel wearing a tuxedo. He looked elegant but still the All-Star American football quarterback when he flashed his smile and the dimples showed. She noticed that he was alone, and she derived an uncomfortable satisfaction from that.

“Pumpkin, can I talk to you for a moment?” Her dad had walked into the room and glanced at the TV. Anne’s face heated and she quickly turned it off.

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