Oath of Honor

“No, Evyn,” Wes said softly, “I don’t.”

“Why not? You should.” Evyn knew she sounded angry. She

was angry. The whole situation made her crazy. The president was at

risk, and it was her job to protect him. She couldn’t do that effectively

when someone she thought she could trust was a traitor. Her impotence

stoked her fury. “You don’t know me. A roll in the hay isn’t exactly a

great judge of anything.”

Wes jolted. She didn’t run from reality, she never had, and Evyn

was making their reality very clear. Last night was a physical encounter

and nothing more, and really, why would she think it was anything

more. “So we keep doing our jobs.”

“No reason it can’t be that simple.” Evyn shrugged, relieved to

settle back into her comfortable pattern again. “We aren’t the first two

people to spend the night together and then go back to business as

usual the next day. In fact, around here, it’s more business as usual than

not.”Wes might not have indulged in battlefield trysts, but she knew

• 185 •

RADCLYfFE

plenty did. Evyn apparently had. “No reason for last night to change

anything.”

“Right.” Evyn quickly turned to switch on the TV. “None at all.”

• 186 •

Oath Of hOnOr

chapter twenty-three

Senator Russo received a text in the middle of breakfast. The

alert read HK1. He’d been waiting two days for this update.

Setting his fork aside, he swiped his thumb over the banner alert and

read the five words that sent a swell of satisfaction streaming through

him. The item is in hand. He deleted the message, wiped his mouth

with a pressed linen napkin, and said to his wife, “I’m sorry, my dear,

I need to return this call. The car will be here in half an hour. You’ll be

ready?”

He wasn’t really asking, but his wife seemed to do better with

the stresses of campaigning when she could cling to the trappings of

civility she’d been raised with. She wasn’t fond of public appearances

under the best of circumstances, and even less so now that his speeches

increasingly drew protesters from some liberal leftist group or another.

He’d assured her this was expected when someone with his strength of

conviction and popularity engaged the people and spoke the truth. Her

Southern belle sensibilities would have annoyed him more if her family

name wasn’t helping him to carry the Deep South.

So he played the game she needed, as long as she did as he wanted.

She understood she had to be by his side during these events—he was

running on a family-values platform, and she was the figurehead of his,

naturally. Thus far he’d managed to keep the whole issue of his eldest

daughter’s absence from the campaign trail in the background. Nora had

spun Jac’s history as a war veteran into some very positive press while

simultaneously downplaying her sexual escapades and questionable

choice in partners. Since Jac had made it plain she wouldn’t take part

in his public appearances, that was the best they could do in terms

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RADCLYfFE

of damage control. Fortunately, he had another daughter, a younger,

feminine, wholesome daughter who didn’t have any choice about

participating.

“Yes, of course I’ll be prompt,” his wife said quickly, an altogether

artificial smile failing to erase the anxious shadows in her eyes. “I’m

looking forward to it.”

“Wonderful.” He smiled. “Wear the blue suit. It looks good on

camera. And goes so nicely with your eyes.”

“Thank you,” she said, her attention on her plate. “I will. Yes.”

He strolled toward his study, mentally reviewing his remarks for

the town meeting Nora had scheduled later that morning in Nevada. He

wanted to use the community forum to demonstrate his solidarity with

the American people and distance himself from the recent emphasis by

members of the press on his private wealth. He might live differently

from most Americans, thanks to his wife’s family money, but he was

still one with the people. He unlocked his study door and walked in,

pleased with the way things were going for the moment.

Once behind his desk, he unlocked another drawer, removed a

disposable cell phone, and called Hooker. “I got your message. No

problems, I take it?”

“I made the exchange for the amount we agreed upon. I’ll have it

tomorrow. None too soon either.”

“You’re certain of its authenticity?”

“As certain as I can be,” Hooker said. “It’s not like I’m an expert

on this sort of thing. I’m mostly the courier here.”

“Courier or not, I’ll hold you responsible for any malfunction.”

“You’re not the one who’ll be sitting with this stuff in his

refrigerator. It gives me the creeps,” Hooker snapped. “You hired me to

broker the deal and run interference between the players. I fulfilled my

contract. Once this is out of my hands, I’m done.”

Russo clamped down on his temper. As insubordinate as Hooker

could be, he had excellent contacts, he got the job done, and he was as

trustworthy as any man in his profession. The election campaign was