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Part of her expected to be waking up in the bowels of a warehouse or out by the docks of the Potomac. Instead, she blinked awake in a tastefully decorated bedroom with a Georgian décor and antique wood furniture.
“What? Am I at Senator Jackson’s guest house?”
“Actually, it’s a lake house out quite aways from my home. It’s the place that I take mistresses to, so a bit more secure than a guest home,” the senator replied, his deep Texas drawl grating on her.
She tried to stand and realized that her ankles and wrists were bound. Standing up, restricted as she was, became almost impossible around the swell of her abdomen. “You son of a bitch.”
“Now, now,” he said, running a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “That’s no way to speak in front of the little one. You don’t want to raise him wrong, cursing like that.”
“I want out of here, you asshole.” She gestured as best she could with her shoulder toward the still gushing wound in Margery’s forehead. “You have to get her help and stress is terrible for the baby. Margery doesn’t even have anything to do with this.”
“Her name wasn’t on the fir
st article’s byline, but I’m sure you’ve picked her brain for ideas and shared your sources with her. If you won’t crack, then if Miss Simmons wakes up, perhaps she will.”
“She’s hurt!”
“If I don’t get exactly what I want out of you both, then you’ll both be dead,” the senator replied, dropping all pretense of two people just talking out on the porch in the summer sun with some sweet tea between them. Rushing across the way to Amanda, he gripped her jaw so tightly that tears sprang to her eyes. That was where she’d been struck, and she was pretty sure something was badly bruised, if not strained from the blow. “Did you ever think about that? That when you kept sticking your nose in my business, it would go unnoticed or unpunished?”
“I was going to end you,” she said. “I’m still going to end you. I’ve talked to so many people you’ve hurt, seen the way you’ve let those cartels grow and destroy countries. You think I’m not going to go after you every day with everything I have until you’re in prison? If you think I’d let this go on forever or let you get close to the presidency…”
“Well, those plans have been in place a long time, darling, and if you don’t like it, then that’s a shame,” he said, striking her hard with the flat of his palm. It was enough to make her see stars.
He dropped Amanda’s head, and she let it fall forward and coughed as blood pooled in her mouth. God, maybe the combinations of blows had broken something in her jaw. Coughing again, she spit blood out onto the rose-embroidered bedspread.
See that bastard replace that.
“You see, Miss Sinclair, you and your friend might not even care about yourselves. Journalists are so valiant and so stupid that way—so hopelessly noble. You have two options, and they’re good ones. I’ll pay off your child’s college education right now and give you a few zeros to grow on if you shut your pretty, little mouth.”
“I can’t,” she spit out, her mouth still dripping a bit with blood.
He reached behind his back and pulled a gun from his belt. It was large, and she thought maybe it was a 9 millimeter. He readied it with an ominous click. At first, he aimed at her forehead. “You might not care about yourself, but you care about your child,” he said, directing his aim at her gut.
“I can’t. You hurt people.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m about to seriously hurt all of you,” he said.
She closed her eyes and silently begged her unborn child to forgive her. There was no way she could take hush money or walk away when she knew people were suffering.
I’m so sorry, baby.
There was a loud bang, and she flinched, expecting the searing pain of lead in her gut.
Except that wasn’t happening. Fearing she was already in shock and beyond the pain, she opened her eyes. She wasn’t struck.
In fact, as she watched, an impossible sight filled her vision. Somehow (and God, maybe she was hallucinating), Amir was there, wrestling the gun from Senator Jackson’s grip. The older man reached back and tried to slug Amir, but her lover dodged the blow and smacked his fist hard into Jackson’s face, causing his head to whip back. Jackson’s grip on his weapon tightened and he broke away from Amir, cocking it again.
She screamed, but Amir dove for the senator. The gun went off and blood sprayed from Amir’s left hand.
“Jesus, Amir, be careful!”
They were both on the floor now, rolling for the gun that had been spilled from Jackson’s hand when Amir tackled him. Both were getting at least a hand on it as Amir rolled over on top of Jackson. There was a shot then, one that seemed like thunder going off beside her ears, and both men froze. Fear flooded her as she was convinced that it must have struck Amir. She’d lost the father of her child and would soon be joining him at the end of a madman’s gun. Then, after what felt like forever, Amir rolled off of the senator and stood, straightened his shirt and tie as best he could with his right hand.
The senator still lay, unmoving, on the ground. Blood gushed from his abdomen and it was clear he’d never be getting up again.
“Amir, you came?”
He nodded and came to her, gently untying her and then pulling out a cell phone and barking orders into it in Arabic. “My security team was fighting his. I’ve explained what happened and an ambulance will be on the way for all of us. Dear Allah, what did that monster do to you?” he asked, even as he reached out to stroke her face.
