Page 6 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“When?” Jake questions.
“It’s recent,” Wes says. “He ate a bullet.”
“Fuck,” Rick bites out. “I didn’t know he was struggling.”
“No one did,” Wes replies. “I had just seen him at Claire’s shower. He seemed fine.”
“I’m sorry,” Rick says. “So fucking sorry.”
“Me too.” Wes sighs. “Anyways, it sounds like there’s more to your story than ‘some shit came up over an old mission.’”
“You’d be right,” Rick says. “Someone kidnapped my daughter after blackmailing my wife.”
“I’ll be at your house in D.C. at nine,” he says and then disconnects.
“Typical Wes,” Rick grumbles, making Jake laugh. “Still calling orders.”
“Looks like the gang is getting back together.” Jake smiles.
“So what now?” Ryan asks.
“I think we need to figure out who could be behind this,” Jake says.
“And we need a plan to get my daughter back,” Rick growls.
“Oo-rah,” Gus, Joe, and Ryan all shout, startling me a bit. I had forgotten everyone in the room. And Marines are weird.
“I can’t help but feel like this all goes back to getting to the president,” Ryan says. “I don’t know the story as well as you do, but—”
“But what?” Rick asks.
“It all sounds to me like someone is moving the pieces on a chessboard, and it all goes back to the president. I think we need to go way back before they were married. Before Mrs. Donovan was even in the picture.”
“We’re going to need sustenance for that,” I say, clapping my hands together. “Is there any food in this joint?
“The freezer and pantry should be fully stocked,” Rick replies. “I don’t come out here enough to keep perishables in the fridge.”
“Excellent,” I respond and jump up to move into action. Grace struggles under her very pregnant belly to hop up and follow me, but she doesn’t make it.
“Fuck,” she bites out. “Jules, give me a hand or I’ll never get up.”
“Well, why didn’t you say something, darling?” Jakes asks with a twinkle in his eyes before he lifts her up like she weighs nothing at all and sets her on her feet. “There you go.”
“Yes, thank you,” she snaps.
“Cara?” I call her name a few minutes later when I see her wander into the kitchen. She looks lost, and it scares me. “Honey, are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “They’re kind of scary out there.”
“I think with you they’re more bark than bite.”
“What about with you?” she asks me, making me laugh.
“What about me? I can run with the big boys. I don’t need to be cared for.”
“I came to help with… whatever it is that’s going on in here,” she says, making Grace and me laugh a little. “What am I missing?”
“We were gossiping,” Grace admits.
