Law walked away before she could rally. He held himself militarily erect, trying to suppress his limp as he crossed the ballroom. His leg was hurting like a sumbitch. So were his hip and half a dozen other bruised places. He began swearing under his breath, viciously and methodically, as he left the room.
He needed fresh air. Quiet. A place away from people until his temper cooled. Then he’d find Jori and they’d get the hell outta Dodge.
He’d lobbed a few live grenades tonight. He would just have to wait, and be ready, for what sprang up in retaliation.
He had reached the first of the wide front steps outside the hotel when he heard the sirens. Before he could steel himself, the yelps of the approaching ambulance quickly gained intensity as strobe lights appeared out of the night, eclipsing even the Christmas decorations in their blood-red flashes.
The siren’s wail merged into screams of incoming rocket fire. The chill of the December night ruptured. The scene exploded into the blinding brilliance of a desert sun.
His body jerked as the echo of a ghostly rifle shot crackled around him.
He pedaled back until his back touched cold stone, halting his retreat. One hand scrambled desperately for the M4 carbine that was always strapped across his torso when on duty.
The sickening punch of an explosion rocked him back on his heels. His heart began to race. The explosions of firepower erupting around him had one purpose. To kill.
He willed his knees not to buckle as he fought for control of the pain and panic engulfing him. Scud was nearby, barking excitedly, frantic for his leadership. He tried to call him back. He mustn’t fail Scud. Not this time.
Something exploded in his chest. It was his heart. He could feel the blood spewing out through his chest wall as the searing heat of a mortar ripped into his gut.
He smelled death.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Erin turned her back for her husband to unzip her. “I think that trooper named Battise should be fired. He insulted me.”
“Can you wait until I’ve won the election before you start handing me your personal vendetta list?”
She danced away from him when he’d dragged the zipper open. She’d had enough champagne and pills to feel bold. “Would it matter if I said he stuck his hand down the front of my dress?”
“Did he?”
“Maybe.”
Luke snorted. “You’re an incorrigible flirt, Erin. Unless you’ve got two witnesses who’ll swear to what you just told me, no. I can’t afford to alienate a decorated veteran who’s just been all over the news as the new local hero.”
Erin shimmied out of her dress and kicked it out of the way. Bending over required too much effort. “He wasn’t very nice to you, either.”
Ignoring the jibe, Luke turned to look out of the windows of the governor’s suite at the Crescent Hotel. It was a spectacular view. Below lay the glittering Christmas lights of the town. Being a Tice, he didn’t need to deal with many of the mundane concerns of life. For instance, the need for the ambulance arriving in the parking lot below. If ill or injured, Tice Industries would send a helicopter to zip him over to a Fayetteville hospital. But how wrong people were to think he didn’t have problems. He had masters he served, just like everyone else.
He turned back from the strobe lights pulsating through the darkness and smiled at his wife’s beauty. For her, anything.
“I smile every day at people I despise because they are useful to me. At the same time I avoid former associates because I’m advised it would send a wrong message to be seen with them. The best way to stop trouble is to avoid it. Dad was right about this Garrison wedding. I should’ve listened.”
She shrugged and subsided into a chair, feeling the buzzkill of reality setting in. The highs weren’t lasting as long as they had even a few weeks ago. “I hate your campaign.”
“You think I get any joy out of it? I’m busting a gut trying to build something here. Do some good. Make some changes. But first I gotta pay my dues. And that can be tricky. That’s why I’m always telling you to stay out of the public eye when you’re not prepared. When you do show up, smile and look pretty. And when anyone brings up a political matter, you refer them to me.”
Erin adjusted her demi-cup bra and succeeded in capturing her husband’s eye. “You mean keep my mouth shut.”
He smiled and came toward her. “Pretty much. You’re gorgeous. The love of my life. I’d do most anything for you.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” She gave him her best smile, thinking she’d chosen the right cousin after all. “So, about Battise?”
He shook his finger at her. “I can’t slay that particular dragon, sweetheart. Sorry.”
She looked away. “He mentioned Brody.”
“What?” Her husband’s tone made her look up. “Why would he have any reason to mention my cousin?”
His eyes scared her, making her back off. “Oh, you know. I guess Jori’s been spinning lies about us.”