Page 62 of Dirty Love

Rook rubs his hands together. “Our base likes Howard Simon.” A Republican senator from Florida whose official portrait has him wearing hunting gear. I pull up the dossier as we listen.

That’s not going to interest PRISM. He’s a two-issue candidate at best who won’t make it far in the primaries.

Amelia gives Rook a big smile anyway. “I’ll have to make a generous donation to his campaign, in that case.” She stands and holds out her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Rook. We’ll have to do this again.”

“Spencer, please.” He gives her a flirty smile that makes my skin crawl. “And I’d love to meet your family—”

The rest of what he says is drowned out by Cole, who jumps to his feet, arms cocked and neck veins bulging. “Shut your fucking ugly gob, you piece of shit. Jesus Christ, I can’t wait to take you down.”

It’s not funny, but…it’s a little funny.

I glance sideways at Tag. He’s trying not to smirk, too.

Cole swivels around. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” I get it. He just doesn’t know that I get it yet. We’ll do anything for our women. And our country, too, although we’re all trained to have patience and plan for the right counter-attack on the latter front.

Nobody trained us to be elite forces in the areas of love and emotional attachment.

As Cole throws himself back into his seat, we watch a silent exchange happen between Amelia and her Mr. X compatriot. The third man in the room finally breaks his silence. “Well,” he says in a slow, flat accent. Dutch, maybe. I’ve got voice recognition going, too, but I doubt it’ll help identify him. “So this man can be useful to us? How?”

“We think his message could have wide popularity if properly packaged.”

“Tell me more.”

Amelia smiles, cold and calculating. “We like Victor Best.”

I jerk upright, my tablet spilling out of my hands and clattering onto the conference table.

Jason holds up his hand, telling me to keep my mouth shut so we can listen to this conversation.

“He is running as a Democrat, no? Really? And you want to pair me with this little fascist?”

She laughs. Crazy bitch. “Rook isn’t a fascist, he’s a nationalist. And he’s speaking about the fears of people everyone has has written off. Those disenfranchised voters could be exactly what we need to sweep to power. And Victor Best is the candidate to invigorate them. I don’t care if he’s a liberal or a conservative. He’s belonged to both parties. And more to the point, he believes in neither. That’s the most useful element to us, after all. Moral flexibility.”

Quiet laughter filters over the wires as all three chuckle at that.

“We’ll back all horses, of course, to varying degrees. But right now, my money’s on Best. He’s shaking things up in a way we like.”

“And Rook?”

“Let’s see what we can do about arranging a meeting between them. It might surprise you how interested Best might be in the idea of appealing to everyday working people. Popularity is his strongest motivator.”

“We’ll need to install someone we can trust close to him to manage this relationship between them.”

“The council is in agreement on that.”

“Then make it so. Now, let’s talk about the psychometric stuff coming out of England. What Reggie shared was fascinating, but it’s a gamble.”

“That’s my favorite thing,” Amelia says. I glance at Cole, who’s face is hard as granite and unreadable.

To say he hates his mother-in-law would be putting it mildly.

A grunt comes next over the speakers. Noncommittal.

My fingers fly over my keyboard, tap on my mouse. Its early morning in the UK but my contact in Cambridge is a light sleeper and works odd hours. Either way he’s not going to want to miss this.

“Jason,” I say quickly. “How much of this can I share with Bryan at Cambridge?”

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