DUTCH AND GINA: AFTER THE FALL (8 page)

“What in the world would he want?” LaLa wanted to know.

“Send him through, Chris an,” Gina ordered her aide and Christian hurried off to do just that.

Gina looked at LaLa. “Could be about my stepbrother’s case.”

“Could be,” LaLa said. “Or it could be he missed you around the Beltway and needed to see your smiling face again.”

“Oh, La!”

“Don’t ‘oh, La’ me! It’s the truth. That man is in love with you, Gina. I see how he looks at you. I know y’all used to be an item and he messed up and it’s all over now, I know all that. I know it’s over for you, anyway. I’m not so sure about him.”

Gina sipped from her can of coke and dismissed such talk. She and Roman were close friends now, and he knew like she knew that that was all they were ever going to be.

Max Brennan sat in a back booth in a dark bar in Oakland and looked with disdain at the young lady seated in front of him. He had been in constant contact with the Speaker’s office, even with the Speaker himself, and this young, slip of a girl was who they sent to meet with him? He used to be the president’s chief of staff for crying out loud, his former best friend since childhood. And this was who they sent?

He drained a big gulp of beer, sat his mug on the table, and leaned back. Brightman had promised to use his considerable connec ons to hook Max up with a job on K Street, but first he had to produce the goods. Max had been giving them the runaround, unsure if he really wanted to do anything to hurt Dutch Harber. But now, a er the way Dutch treated him in that limo, it was personal. He didn’t care what job Brightman offered or if he even offered a job. Fuck the job. He wanted to see Dutch Harber fall.

“ They need the name,” the young lady said. She was twenty-something, tall, fake blonde, busty. “You give them the name, and your return to the halls of power in DC will practically be assured.” Max didn’t respond. He gulped down more beer.

“Give us the name, Mr. Brennan,” the young lady said, “and you’ll get what you want. You gave Speaker Brightman some facts. Some very interes ng facts, he believes. But now we need a name.”

Max stared at the young woman. She thought she was powerful because she was close to power, when she was nothing more than Brightman’s whore. One of many. “What do they plan to do with the name?” The young lady just looked at him. “Use it,” she said.

“To bring Harber down?”

“We can’t control the end result, it’s as simple as that.”

Nothing was as simple as she was making it out to be, and Max knew it, but it wasn’t as if he was a man with options. He felt more like a man who had run out of options.

“Samantha Redding,” he finally said.

“Redding?” she asked, pulling out her pad.

Max looked at her. It was a simple enough name.

But to airheads. . . “Yeah,” he said, “Redding. Like Otis.”

The young lady looked at him with a clueless look on her face. Max shook his head and drained down the last of his beer. He used to be one of the most feared men in Washington. Now he wasn’t even understood.

FIVE

A er mee ng with the Vice President and later Max, Dutch changed from his formal a re and back into a pair of jeans and a V-neck knit shirt. He now stood in the bedroom mirror and smoothed back his silky black hair, his hand moving down and res ng on the back of his neck as he thought about his li le face to face with Shelton Pratt and, later, Max.

Something was up, he could tell by the way Shelly wouldn’t even look him in the eye, and he would go insane a emp ng to figure out what could be in the works. He could only hope that his warning that Shelly and Brightman rethink their scheme was enough.

And Max. Geez. The last human being on the face of this earth he wanted to see today. And Chandra, who was a major disappointment, had bought him to his retreat. The nerve of that woman. But at least it extracted the name of the mastermind, which Dutch s ll found hard to believe, but that s ll wasn’t enough, he felt, to save Chandra’s job.

As he turned away, s ll fuming, he no ced something small under the bed. He leaned down and realized it was his wife’s pan es. Smiling, he grabbed them, smelled that aroma he loved, and then tossed them in the hamper.

From the nightstand he grabbed his wallet, change, and keys, put them into his pockets, and then walked across the second floor landing to the Nursery.

Although security, which already was super- ght, had been doubled on Ruth Island in the wake of the kidnapping, with no-one being allowed anywhere near the perimeter of this place without clearance from him, Gina, or Crader, he still took no chances.

Li le Walt was s ll asleep, as he was pleased to see, and he stood there a few moments staring at his beau full walnut-toned baby boy. He knew he had his work cut out for him. Not only did he have to teach him how to be a man, but how to be a black man in this very white world. Dutch understood that his son was bi-racial and just as white as he was black, but he also understood the ways of the world. They would see him, treat him, and respond to him, not as half this or that, but as if he were a black man pure and simple. And he had to prepare his son for that reality.

had to prepare his son for that reality.

“Oh, hey, Mr. President,” a voice said and Dutch looked up from the crib to see Christian in the doorway.

“Chris, hey.”

“I was just going to check on him.”

Dutch smiled. “Thanks.” Then he considered the young man. He still seemed flustered. “You okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Christian said with little enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry she did that to you. Won’t happen again.” Chris an looked at him. “You mean you believe me?”

The way he said it, with such amazement in his bright eyes, broke Dutch’s heart. “Come here,” he said to the young man.

Christian did as he was told.

“Of course I believe you, Chris. I know you wouldn’t do anything to harm my administra on, I know you wouldn’t. You’re the best in my view, because you have a good heart. And don’t you forget that.” Chris an smiled. “I won’t, sir,” he said, I’ll never forget it, sir.”

“Now get out of here,” Dutch ordered and Chris an left, smiling again.

Dutch smiled too, looked at his son once more, and then walked over to the open window, the fresh Florida air wa ing through, as he looked down toward the courtyard.

He saw LaLa, looking pre y he thought in her sundress, and Gina, showing off her shapely legs in her shorts, and wearing one of his Harvard jerseys. He smiled when he saw Gina, amazed at how she turned him on even more now than when they first hooked up.

And when she stood up as, to his surprise, Roman Wilkes walked toward her, he felt pride of ownership; that this wonderful, caring, beau full human being could be his wife. His and his alone.

But Roman Wilkes was a distrac on. He watched the good looking a orney as he walked ably across the courtyard in his expensive suit, grabbed his wife in a grand sweep, and wrapped her into his arms. He even lifted Gina off of her feet and slung her around, the way some sailor back home on leave would do his lady.

And as Roman held her, his eyes ghtly shut, Dutch knew exactly how the younger man felt. Roman was in love with Gina, there was no doubt in Dutch’s mind.

Roman wanted her, was thirsty for her even more today than he did when he had her all those years ago.

Which, Dutch was willing to guarantee, was a thirst that was never going to be quenched.

But just in case there was any doubt, Dutch le his window view, and headed for the courtyard.

Roman, in the courtyard, finally stopped embracing Gina. He put on his best smile, although his heart was thumping with real emo on for this woman he loved above any other human being. The woman that got away.

She looked stunning and so refreshed, he thought as he sat down beside her. Her braids were gone and her hair was now in a short mane of bouncy silkiness that made her look so much younger than her thirty-seven years. He placed his arm across the back of the bench.

He would have loved to touch her so , thin neck, but knew he would be out of bounds. And he wasn’t about to do anything to lose her friendship.

“You look like new money,” he said to her as he playfully checked her out. “A sight for the sore eye.” Gina smiled. Roman always had a way of making her feel happy for some reason. That was probably why they remained friends a er their breakup. He always had that easy, sweet, decent way about him that she just loved. “You don’t look so bad yourself, bud,” she replied.

replied.

“Oh, but my dear, that’s where you’re wrong. I look horrid. Everybody does compared to you.” Gina glanced at LaLa, knowing that his lines were feeding right into LaLa’s
he wants you back
tagline.

LaLa nodded, gave Gina that
I told you so
look, and looked away.

Crader, too, managed to end his call and make it over to Roman’s side. He had only met the man a couple mes in the past, but he knew him to have a stellar reputation.

“Hello, Mr. Wilkes,” he said as he approached.

“Senator McKenzie,” Roman replied grandly as he stood. “How are you?”

“Great. And you’d better call me Crader.” Roman smiled. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said as the two men laughed and shook hands.

Roman sat back down. Crader opted to remain standing.

“So,” Gina asked Roman, “what’s up? What brings you here to Florida?”

Roman let out a curt exhale. “Marcus Rance,” he said, deciding not to beat around the bush.

“The hearing’s been delayed?”

“No, no, it’s s ll going down tomorrow. But that’s why I’m here.” He looked at her. “I need you there.” Gina frowned, surprised that he would ask such a thing. “Me? But why?”

“ That’s what I want to know,” LaLa added, equally surprised by such an odd request.

“ The evidence is good, don’t get me wrong, but it won’t pass the rule.”

“What rule?” Crader asked before he realized he was being intrusive.

“ The only way the Texas courts will grant a new trial,” Gina, an a orney herself, explained, “is if they determine that the evidence is not only new but is also substan all enough that, had the jury known about it in the previous trial, Marcus would have never been convicted of murder.”

“So Roman’s ba le is convincing the courts that the evidence is substantial enough?”

“No,” Roman clarified, “I think the evidence is very substantial. The new part of the rule is the problem.

Everything I will argue tomorrow will be based on old evidence. I have masterfully made it appear new, based on the fact that I’m using different witnesses, etcetera, but it can easily be interpreted as the same old thing. My concern is that the judge in the case will see right through it and toss out our petition.” Crader was s ll confused. “But I thought they were having the trial tomorrow?”

“It’s only a hearing on the evidence, it’s not a trial. I had enough twists and turns in my pe

on for them to

grant the hearing, I’m known to be excellent in that regard, but I don’t know if there’s enough there for them to grant a new trial. Unless we have one additional trump card in our bag of tricks.”

“Gina?” LaLa asked.

Roman nodded. “Gina. The First Lady. Without Gina’s presence Marcus Rance might get a favorable outcome, sure. He might. I’m be ng against it, but he might. However, with Gina at that hearing tomorrow I’m certain we’ll have a favorable outcome.” Gina looked at him, her face now a mask of distress. “Why are you certain the outcome will be favorable just because I’m there? We’re s ll talking about Texas.”

“I know,” Roman agreed. “It’s an uphill climb, you’re right about that. But Gina, your stepbrother is going to remain in prison for the rest of his natural life if we don’t get that new trial. And he’s innocent. He if we don’t get that new trial. And he’s innocent. He didn’t commit that drive-by shoo ng, he didn’t kill those people. The evidence in his first trial was overwhelming that he didn’t. He just had lousy counsel who didn’t do what they were supposed to do. He’s innocent, G.”

Gina leaned back. “I know that,” she said with li le enthusiasm. “ That’s not the problem.” But then she exhaled. She couldn’t worry about the “problem” right now. “Of course I’ll come,” she said to Roman, who smiled greatly.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” he said.

“But what about Brussels?” Crader asked. “You guys leave for Brussels tomorrow for the G-8 Summit.” Thus the problem. “I’ll go to the hearing tomorrow and then fly to Brussels after my testimony.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Roman said, s ll delighted.

“But will it sound reasonable to the president?” LaLa asked. “Who, by the by, is heading this way right this very minute.”

They all turned toward the front of Crader’s large home. And there was Dutch, who had already exited the house and was moving in their direc on. And as soon as his presence was noted, the Secret Service presence became far more animated and alert, with many of the agents forming a perimeter around the president even as they kept their distance from him as well. It had been their sudden forma ons, in fact, that caused LaLa to look up in the first place.

Roman immediately removed his arm from the back of the bench and stood up. LaLa, too, stood to her feet. Gina just sat there and looked at her husband.

He wore jeans and a pullover shirt, not an ounce of flab anywhere on his rock hard body, and she could feel that charged, sensual vibe just emana ng from him with every step down. Although he was no longer that thirty-three year old businessman she met nearly a dozen years ago, and the burdens of the presidency con nued to weigh heavily on him, he was s ll as virile and as sexy as any man half his age. And not a human being alive, she also believed, was more attractive.

“Hello there, Mr. President,” Roman said in his usual gregarious way as Dutch approached. He extended his hand.

“How are you, Roman?” Dutch replied, shaking his hand. Roman’s dark skin against his bright white smile made him a most appealing man, Dutch couldn’t help but notice.

And Roman refused to relinquish that smile. “I couldn’t be better,” he said.

Dutch looked at LaLa. “You look very pre y this fine morning, Loretta.”