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Despite the report, Merritt was certain that Spence had been there. He’d just been careful to cover his tracks. He was also certain that Gray wouldn’t have vanished without a compelling reason. From that, he deduced that Gray had snuffed Spence before Spence had a chance to snuff him.
If that deduction was correct, Gray was wise to them. The ramifications of that were so vast, so dismal, that Merritt had sought the seclusion of the gym. He needed time alone to think, to plot.
Gray wouldn’t be afraid to joust with the presidency. Deterrents that would cause fear and trembling in anyone else who challenged the White House wouldn’t faze him. Nor would he eventually give up and go away. When Gray thought he was right, he would stop at nothing to defend his point. His convictions were as solid as Gibraltar. That inflexibility was one reason why Merritt hated him.
When he took the oath of office, he had great plans for the three of them. He himself was gifted with enough charisma and political savvy to convince Congress and the nation of anything. Spence was the ruthless strong-arm of the trio. He didn’t require justification, he merely performed, efficiently and expediently. Gray was an expert strategist. He viewed each situation from every possible angle and always chose the best approach to take. Together, they could have been the most powerful three men in the world.
If only Gray hadn’t had a lech for Vanessa and developed a conscience.
“Damn fool,” Merritt muttered as he levered himself off the padded bench and reached for a hand towel. As he wiped his face and the back of his neck, someone knocked on the door. “Come in.”
A Secret Service agent opened the door. Standing beside him was Gray Bondurant.
“Mr. President,” said the smiling agent, “I have a surprise for you.”
Merritt broke a wide grin, which felt to his face like a crack opening up in a slab of concrete. “Gray! God, man, this is a surprise.”
Gray too was smiling, though, as usual, it contributed no warmth to his eyes. “I took a chance that you’d be free long enough to say hello.” He gave Merritt an approving once-over. “The nation should sleep well, Mr. President. You look fit enough to defeat singlehandedly all its enemies, domestic and abroad.”
Shaking hands and slapping each other on the back, they played out the charade. There was no reason for the Secret Service agent to doubt their cordiality. Rumors of a rift between them had been vehemently denied. When Gray had left the White House, their friendship was supposedly as strong as ever, perhaps even stronger because of the spectacular success of Gray’s mission.
It required all of Merritt’s acting skills to mask his rage. He’d been blindsided by a master. Hadn’t he just been thinking about what an expert strategist Gray was? This was a well-planned ambush made to appear innocent. Gray had come straight to the mountain, unannounced and disarming. White House staff knew him well and wouldn’t be suspicious. He’d come to see his pal the President, and how nice of him.
What galled Merritt most was that he had to continue Gray’s game, at least until he figured out what he was up to. When they were alone, he moved to the juice bar. “What can I get you?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
Merritt poured two glasses of orange juice. “Goddamn, it’s good to see you,” he said, clinking their glasses in a toast.
“Don’t let me interrupt your workout.”
“I was about to quit. Can’t take as much as I once could,” he said with a self-effacing grimace.
“I doubt that.”
“Mind if I get in the whirlpool?”
“Not at all.”
Merritt slipped out of his shorts and stepped into the swirling, bubbling water from which a cloud of steam was rising. “Ahh, feels great. Want to join me?”
“No, thanks.” Gray dragged a chair to the edge of the whirlpool and sat down.
“Your hair’s gone grayer.”
“Heredity,” Gray replied. “Didn’t I ever tell you that my dad was prematurely gray?”
Basically, Gray Bondurant was unchanged. His body was still hard and taut, his expression still resolute. Envy was a rare emotion for the man who’d brought himself all the way from a trailer park to the White House; but envy was the foundation for his hatred of Gray.
He was more handsome than Gray. Perhaps even more intelligent. Equally as strong, physically.
But Gray had a steely core of self-confidence and morality that allowed him to look any other man in the eye without flinching. Even in the good ol’ days, when they were in the Corps together, long before their clash, Merritt had always been the first to look away from sustained eye contact with Gray. He resented how comfortably and well Gray wore honor and nobility and despised him for his principles, while secretly envying the additional strength they gave him.
“Your belly’s still flat,” he observed. “I’m glad to see that Wyoming hasn’t turned you into a wuss.”
“It’s tough country, but if I hadn’t earned my spurs in Washington, I couldn’t have handled it.”
Merritt chuckled. “I’ve missed your sense of humor. It’s dry as dust, but you could always make me laugh.” He spread his arms along the tile rim of the whirlpool. Thinking he already knew the answer, he asked, “What brings you to Washington?”
