Rook (Political Royalty Book 2) (12 page)

Walker nodded, not trusting himself to speak when she was looking at him like he’d done something good. He hadn’t done anything.

“Set it up.” He turned away before he wrecked both of their lives by reaching for her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wife practically clap with glee as she hurried off to get ready for the cameras.

M
ATT KNEW AS A SEASONED reporter he wasn’t supposed to get attached to the candidate, but he had to admit Walker had really started to grow on him. His response to the bridge collapse had actually been human, with none of the political posturing that usually happened after those kinds of things. Hell, even the general’s response felt partisan next to Walker’s.

In the end, there hadn’t been much for him to cover; he wrote a short piece on the primary results Jess fed him and an even shorter section on the governor’s response. By the time the plane touched down in Ohio, he had his article ready to send to his editor and his sister beside him.

He hated the reason, but he loved having Becca on the trail with him. They’d made the drive from Ohio to Illinois, playing the same car games they had as a kid. His right arm was going to have a bruise from all the imaginary punch buggies she saw. He’d had to resort to
Cadillac no slap backs
to save his reputation. There were still times when she got quiet and he could tell she forced her smile more often than not, but at least he could see her. Touch her and know she was safe, if not okay.

Driving between stops, they’d had time to talk, but after a while there wasn’t anything else to say about what happened to her. He couldn’t call it rape, not even in his head, or he’d lose it. He wouldn’t make her carry his emotional shit too. No way.

She insisted she didn’t want to go to the police. He’d asked her repeatedly before they left Arizona and her answer was a consistent, resounding no. If she remembered the details of that night, she didn’t share them with him and despite his burning need for vengeance, even he had to admit going to the authorities was as likely to end in her being victimized again as it was in justice.

He’d snuck some time alone to call his tech buddy on the paper to get him to troll the frat brothers’ social media accounts, looking for any sign of Becca’s attack. The thought of someone else seeing his little sister compromised like that turned his stomach, but he didn’t trust himself to be the one to do it. Not without losing his mind if he found someone. The tech guy was a good dude, and he thought he was following a story lead. He’d be careful and discreet.

They moved forward, as if having her on the trail with him following the senator from rally to rally was the most natural thing in the world. After a couple of days, it felt like it was. She waited for him on the sidelines while he listened to the senator repeat his America as the world’s breadbasket message. Matt had to admit it resonated with him and the crowds that came to hear the senator.
Unfortunately, they were still much smaller crowds than Collins or even Estevan pulled
, Matt thought, scanning the high school auditorium.

The room was full, but that was more because of the campaign’s commitment to booking smaller venues than because the senator was drawing packed houses. His staff at least was smart enough to understand the damage the visual of an empty college arena could do.

Matt swam against the crowd of people still cheering for Walker and scanned the perimeter of the room, looking for his sister. He had what he needed, and if they got a jump on things and left before the rally ended, they could get to Huntington in time to find a cheap hotel that didn’t smell like stale cigarette smoke and old beer. He’d looked at the schedule. With the campaign flying to Missouri, there was no chance of him getting a seat for him and Becca on the plane and less of a chance that the paper would approve a commercial flight, so he’d come up with what he thought was a stellar backup plan. It would take some extra cash, but if he pulled off the surprise for Becca, it would be more than worth it.

He finally found his sister, standing off to the side of the bleachers, talking to Mrs. Walker of all people. The senator’s wife’s back was to him, but Becca was smiling. A real genuine smile, like he’d rarely seen since they started this adventure. He hadn’t thought much of Mrs. Walker. Being a dude, his loyalty naturally went to the senator, but if she could make his sister smile like that, he’d seriously consider switching his allegiance.

Not wanting to disturb them, he started to back away, but Becca must have caught the movement. Still smiling, she motioned to him over the other woman’s shoulder. Mrs. Walker turned to face him and hit him with the smile the cameras and the American people loved.

“Is this your brother?” she murmured, her drawl soft and elegant even in hushed tones.

“Yes, ma’am. Sandra,” Becca corrected when Mrs. Walker arched a carefully groomed eyebrow at her.

“It’s so nice that the two of you get to spend some time together. My brother and I fought like cats and dogs, but I miss him.” She smiled almost wistfully and Matt wondered again if he’d misjudged her.

“Don’t let the civilized appearance fool you,” said his sister. “He can be a beast if he thinks he can get away with it.”

“Hey,” Matt said louder than he intended. “Not fair.” He whispered the last part but they were far enough from the podium and the crowd’s cheers were so loud, they could have had a shouting match and not interrupt what was happening on the stage.

“You make sure you let the staff know if you need anything.” Mrs. Walker motioned in the direction of the senator’s campaign manager.

Matt bit the inside of his cheek to keep from letting out some kind of smart-ass comment. There was no way on God’s green earth he’d be asking Haven Graham, political darling and the one who ran the whole show, for help with anything. Justin, her assistant, was as close as he expected to get to that inner circle.

“Thank you, Mrs. Walker,” he said before the pause stretched all the way to awkward.

She nodded and then noticed the senator motioning to her from the stage.

“That’s my cue,” she said, casting a playful grin over her shoulder before turning to hit the crowd with her full smile.

Becca and Matt watched as she joined her husband, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd.

“Interesting,” said Matt, not sure how to reorder his impression of the Walkers.

“I think she’s nice,” said Becca, keeping her gaze fixed on the couple on the stage.

“How’d you end up talking to her?” However it happened, Matt was grateful. He could see the curve of his sister’s lips. She hadn’t gone back to the vacant look or forced expression since he stumbled on her talking to Mrs. Walker.

“I was waiting outside the stage door for you to finish. Sandra started to pass and stopped. She asked me why I was sad and I just froze. I didn’t know what to say. We talked for a moment about nothing and then she told me to come watch with her from back here. I don’t know.” Still not meeting his gaze, she shrugged her shoulders. “It felt nice being with her. Better than being alone. You have to promise not to laugh,” she said, finally turning to face him. “I know she’s way too young, and she’s so beautiful, but it was kind of like being with Mom. The way it used to be.”

“Mom was beautiful.” Their mother had been his world, and then things went south with the farm and his father, and she changed. Even after she left his dad, she’d never been the same again. There was something bitter in her that never went away.

“Do you think Walker’s aqua farm thing would have helped Dad?”

They never talked about the devastating corn prices or their father losing the farm. Matt had been gone already, out on his own, but Becca had still been at home, going through hell with their parents. Knowing he escaped and she didn’t was a small part of why he helped with her tuition. Not the whole reason, but a part. He couldn’t make up for what she lived through while their family fell apart, but he could make things easier for her now.

“I don’t think anything could have helped Dad. He had a way he was used to doing things. When things changed, he didn’t.” It wasn’t quite as simple as that. Their father could have been as flexible as Gumby and he still wouldn’t have been able to weather the crazy ethanol-induced corn prices that led to the demise of the farm. It hadn’t mattered. He was too set in his ways to even try.

“I wonder sometimes.” She sounded sad again, and it bugged him that their conversation had undone all the good her time with Mrs. Walker had done.

“Come on,” he said, catching her by the hand. “Let’s blow this place. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

––––––––

H
AVEN HAD TWO more days and five hundred and twenty-three miles before she’d find out if her Herculean effort in Florida paid off and if Walker managed to inch in the lead for his party’s nomination. She scanned the spreadsheet on her laptop, running through every possible scenario for delegates and flipping between best- and worst-case scenarios. In the seat beside her, Justin was doing the same thing, just on a smaller scale—looking at the numbers by district instead of by state. Every contest brought them a step closer to victory or defeat and lately at least the trend seemed to be positive.

Despite Jenson stepping in front of any microphone he could find to tout his experience governing, he hadn’t made significant inroads in the delegate counts and it didn’t look like the next contests would be any different. External polling had Illinois, Missouri, and Ohio in a dead heat between Collins and Walker, but the campaign’s internal polling showed a small advantage for Walker in Illinois and Ohio. Haven wanted the winner-take-all Buckeye State. She wanted it bad and debated pulling the senator out of Missouri to send him back to campaign for one more day in Ohio. But it would cost precious time in Florida and she wanted that more. In the end, she hedged her bets, upped their ad budget and prayed she’d done enough.

Florida was the hottest contest and still a close three-person race, but some of the fervor seemed to have abated. Either the media had lost interest in fanning the flames in the fight between Collins and Estevan or more likely, the general got smart and stopped responding. Regardless of the reason, the story’s fuel dwindled and Walker crept ahead. His lead was still razor-thin but even a narrow victory would be enough to net him all the delegates at stake.

Depending on the next day’s outcome, she suspected they’d be down to at least a three-person race and possibly even two. Estevan’s seemingly bottomless billfold kept him from being susceptible to the regular rules, but if he didn’t make a strong showing in Florida, she couldn’t imagine why he’d stay in. Narrowing the field couldn’t come soon enough to suit her and not just because it would put Walker one step closer to the nomination. It was relatively easy to avoid stepping in it when the other candidates were rolling around in the mud, but being the reasonable guy still standing wasn’t enough to fire up anyone.

The people who showed up at his rallies liked the senator, and when they heard it, his message seemed to resonate with voters. But no one fell head over heels in love with a Boy Scout. It was like having oatmeal for breakfast. It might be the healthy thing to do, but it didn’t make anybody jump out of bed crazy excited to start their day with it every morning. If Walker intended to win in November—hell, even in July—he had to be a whole lot more exciting than oatmeal.

The pilot came over the intercom, announcing their arrival at Charlotte Douglas, and Haven shut down her laptop and tucked it back into her bag. Travis and Walker had a late dinner with the state party’s heavy hitters to try to empty their bank accounts. Justin was meeting Ethan to reconnect in person instead of over the phone and Haven was looking forward to a glass of wine, a bath, and if she was being honest, time alone with her poll projections. They took off in the bus for Florida in the morning and she needed a few more hours to convince herself she’d done everything she could to ensure a Walker victory.

“We’re ready,” said Justin, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “Relax. You’ve done everything you possibly could.”

Not yet, but she would have by tomorrow night. After that, it was up to the voters.

“Is Illinois still holding?” The plane started its descent and she swallowed hard to keep her ears from popping.

“Looks like it,” said Justin, stowing his laptop. “It’s still close but it doesn’t look like it’s closing. If our numbers are right, he’ll win but the delegates will likely split down the middle.”

“Doesn’t matter. We need the visual of the win, especially if Florida goes for Collins.” The Sunshine State was winner-take-all with almost a hundred delegates at stake and Haven wanted them.

She glanced across the open aisle of the Walkers’ private plane to Travis. He had his eyes closed and a death grip on the arm rest.

“You okay, Travis?” asked Justin. Haven put her hand on her friend’s knee to stave off the ribbing she knew was headed Travis’s way.

“I’ll be fine once we are back on the ground.”

There was a slight bump as the wheels touched the tarmac and then a roar as the engines reversed, slowing them down.