Birch paced his bedroom. Humphrey was the one talking about running for president during the next election, but that was years away, and Birch hadn’t said a thing about it. For Tate to leave now . . . Birch took a deep breath, but it didn’t help as he reread the letter she had left for him.

“Fuck!” he yelled, sending his glass flying against the bulletproof window. He was a prisoner in his own house.

He heard footsteps racing up the hall. “Sir!”

Birch turned when the night agent crashed into the room with his gun drawn.

“Abrams, we’re going out,” Birch snapped, storming out of the room.

“What? Out where? Now?” Special Agent Jim Abrams sputtered in confusion. It was two in the morning, after all.

“Yes, now. And we’re taking your car.”

“But, sir,” Abram said, racing to catch up with Birch.

“But nothing. Where are you parked?”

“At least take the Beast,” Abrams begged, referring to the armored limo.

Birch looked to the man in his mid-thirties. He looked back worriedly at him. “No, I don’t want anyone to know I’m gone. If they see the Beast leaving, they can follow me.” Birch turned back and jogged into his room. He was already wearing his workout gear. He grabbed a baseball cap and slid it low over his brow. No one would look twice. “Let’s go.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’m the president and I say we’re going. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” Abrams said nervously, leading Birch past the Uniformed Division guards whose job is to guard the White House from any threat presented. What they didn’t expect was the president rushing past them into the parking lot in the middle of the night.

“Mr. President?”

Birch smiled at the guard. “I’m good. Agent Abrams is following my orders. I’ll be back soon. Tell the gate.”

“This is me,” Abrams said, pointing at the sports car.

“I knew I liked you, Abrams. You want to let me drive?”

“You know I can’t let you do that, sir. I’m already breaking so many rules.”

Birch felt sorry for the young agent, but he did miss driving. As vice president and now president, he hadn’t driven on a public road since the campaign started.

The drive to Tate’s house was uneventful. It also gave Birch a taste of freedom. Things were going to change now that he knew he could flex his presidential power to leave the White House. He even ignored the undercover car that had trailed them to Tate’s house. He knew Abrams sent a message to the other agent on duty. Whatever made them feel better about him walking out was fine.

“Agent Loyde is here. You may want to make him aware of our presence. Is that window broken?” Birch asked as he stared at the large rectangular window that looked as if it was missing glass.

“Yes, sir,” Abrams said, putting his hand on his gun and taking in the entire street as he called Brock. “It’s Abrams. I’m outside with the president. He wants to see Miss Carlisle. Is the site secure?”

Birch was running short on patience and seeing the broken window wasn’t helping. What had happened? Was Tate safe?

“We can go in. There was an incident, but it’s secure now,” Abrams said as the other agent parked his generic black SUV a block away and stepped out with his hand on an M-16. So much for remaining inconspicuous. Birch shook his head and went up the steps. The front door opened and Brock was standing there armed as he looked past Birch to take in the neighborhood.

“Where’s Tate?”

“Couch,” Brock said, nodding toward the living room.

Tate was sound asleep on the couch, but her brow was furrowed. It was clear she wasn’t sleeping peacefully. “What happened?” Birch whispered.

“Well, you saw the graffiti, I’m sure. But then as we were going to sleep, someone threw a brick through the window. I headed outside to secure the front lawn and try to get a description. While I was out, a Hispanic male suspect came in through her bedroom door and held a gun to her.” Brock stopped talking and looked at Abrams. “Abrams, will you do a lap around back for me? I was going to walk the perimeter now for safety.”

“Of course,” Abrams said, heading out the front door.

Brock waited a second and then lowered his voice. “The man wanted to know about Valeria. He said that Valeria told him that Tate knew her and could vouch for her. He asked about her being part of the DEA, her interaction with DEA trainees, and if she’d ever sold drugs to Tate. I’m worried. Val would never send someone to check on her background unless she was in deep and needed to prove her cover. The first rule of going undercover is keeping as close to the truth as you can so you don’t mess up your background.”

“What do you think she’s doing?” Birch asked.

“Look at the pieces: Hispanic, knowing her history with the DEA . . . it has to be something about why she was fired from the DEA that she thinks may relate to Mollia Domini. I just can’t believe she would put Tate in this position,” Brock said as they looked down at an exhausted Tate.

“I would think she would send someone to Lizzy who has experience lying,” Birch said, fighting the urge to draw Tate into his arms.

Brock nodded, but then stopped. “Maybe that’s why she sent them to Tate. Tate has no law enforcement background, nothing to make anyone suspicious of her working for an agency. They would have looked Lizzy up and seen her FBI record. If they wanted to see if Val was out of the game, then Tate’s the exact person to go to—a complete innocent in the world of drugs and federal agency work.”

“I hope so. I want this over so badly. Are you worried about her?” Birch asked, looking away from Tate and toward Brock.

“Yeah, I am. I may not be dating Valeria anymore, but I’ll always love her. And whatever she’s in right now, it’s some deep shit.” Brock looked away from Birch and down at Tate. “I’ll give you a minute alone.”

Birch watched Brock move out the front door and close it behind him. Birch went and knelt in front of the couch. He used his finger to push a long blonde curl from her face. “Sweetheart?”

Tate blinked her eyes open when Birch gently shook her shoulder. “Birch! What are you doing here?”

“You leave me a letter about it being better for me if you left, and you’re surprised to see me? I couldn’t sleep without you. You’re already a part of me.”

Tate sat up and looked at him so sadly it hurt Birch’s heart. “I’m so tainted, Birch. Being around me will hurt you, and I couldn’t stand that. You have to be our president. You have to be able to run the group to take down Mollia Domini. If you’re not in office, then who is going to stop them?”

“Oh, Tate, I will. We’re closing in on them. Don’t you feel it? It’s like when I was in the Army. It would be nothing for long periods. Hints of chatter here and there, but then I’d get a feeling that ran down my spine when I saw a bit of intercepted information or when someone from a village would step forward. And I would know it. I would know we had them. I have the same feeling. Two days, Tate. Just hold on for two days. I need you now more than ever, and you need me, too,” Birch said, finally taking Tate in his arms as she tried to choke back a sob.

“I can hear them all the time calling me names. It’s only been a day, and I already feel completely helpless against them. The names they call me . . . There’s a site telling me I should kill myself. It makes me forget I put myself in this position. They make me forget I did nothing wrong. They make me want to run off alone and hide. I hear the names they call me in my head even when I’m all alone.” Tears streamed down Tate’s face as Birch held her close to him.

“Then let’s fight back. Come back to the White House with me. Stay there with me. You have your team looking into Epps and Harriet. Throw yourself into that work. I have to have you with me. I have to know you’re safe. Tate, I love you. I know that it’s the last thing we should be thinking about during this whole mess, but it’s the light amidst all this darkness for me. You’re my light. You’re my love. Stay with me, please.”

Tate cried harder, but when she looked up at him she was smiling. “How can we have this hope, this love, in the middle of this nightmare?”

“I don’t know. But we do and Mollia Domini can’t take that away from us. Come home with me, Tate,” Birch asked quietly as he held his breath.

“I love you, Birch. I was just trying to protect you,” Tate said, pulling away from his chest.

“I know, sweetheart. But we are stronger together. Will you come with me?” Birch asked, standing up and holding out his hand.

“Always.” Tate placed her hand in his, and Birch never felt better. He was invincible with Tate by his side.

All too soon, they were back at the White House. Back to their headquarters and back to their bubble of safety that sometimes seemed like a prison to Birch. But as Birch looked into Tate’s eyes as he slowly made love to her, he decided that a life mandated by rules didn’t seem as oppressive with her in his bed with him.

No matter how amazing it was waking up naked in Birch’s arms, Tate knew the rest of the day wouldn’t be so great. And she was right. Her team had texted her that morning that Fitz was trying to get an appointment with her.

“What is it?” Birch asked. It was still dark out, but that didn’t matter. Neither of their work lives stopped for something as annoying as sleep.

“Fitz wants an appointment to discuss marketing for the Claudia interview,” Tate sighed as she responded to her team to set the appointment for right before lunch. “I’m going through all the information Brent Eller sent me and trying to find what I can dig up on Epps. Dalton is sure he’s Mollia Domini’s source on the Hill. Thank goodness we found out about Peter. Having someone close to you like a Secret Service agent telling Mollia Domini what you’re up to is bad news. What are your plans?” Tate asked, as she slid from the bed and started to get dressed.

“Lots of meetings and phone calls,” Birch sighed.

They were quiet for a minute as Tate thought about the mission. “Do you think Claudia is reporting to Epps, and he’s the one behind all of this?”

“No, even Epps doesn’t have the power to pull this off. They have to be funded by someone with deep pockets, or a group of people with deep pockets. I think we have an idea Harriet and Phylicia were controlling Dan March and Bram Smit, and that they were reporting to Epps. I think Epps is reporting to someone even bigger.”

“And we know Kerra Ruby had some connection to Harriet or at least to the talking points. And I’m pretty sure Claudia is on it, too. I know we don’t have direct evidence. I’m going to work on that today. She just has to be part of this. But I still think Trip is the one pulling their strings. And Trip definitely has the right kind of money and contacts to pull this off,” Tate said as she brushed her hair.

Birch thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Maybe, but Trip is as dumb as shit. He only thinks of himself, and he even told Lizzy he’d been asked to join. With the drugs she had him on, I don’t think he could lie about it.”

“Then who are Kerra and Claudia getting their orders from?” Tate wondered. She felt as if she were missing a key part. “We have foreign governments in on the politics, we have people on the Hill, in the White House, and in all government agencies doing Mollia Domini’s bidding. We also know the media is controlled the same way. They’ve been using Claudia on BBN to spread their lies to the people nationally, so who is the Claudia of international reporting? And we have Kerra shaping pop culture—” Tate stopped talking as her mind raced forward.

“I gotta go. I have an idea.” Tate smiled. Damn, Lizzy was right. It was a web, and a web interconnects, and she had the key to finding the connections.

“Go? What—”

Tate kissed Birch into silence. “My mind. I just can’t. I’ll talk to you soon,” Tate said clumsily as she raced out of the residence, leaving Birch looking confused. She got like this when she had a lead for a story. Her brain was too busy working on the details to talk it out.

Tate pulled her phone out and dialed. “Dude, it’s like six in the morning,” Alex said sleepily as Tate ran through the White House and into the West Wing.

“Search the talking points I’m sending you with all of the international news outlets,” Tate said as she slammed the door to her office, leaving the lone night worker staring at her in surprise.

“What?” Alex questioned.

“Just do it! I’m emailing you now,” Tate said quickly.

“I’m supposed to be working on prints. You know, the main lead we have,” Alex grumbled. “Every time I try to get to work—”

“I know, but this is a big lead, too. Can you do it?”

“Dude.” Alex said it all with that one word. “But, Lizzy—”

“Tell Lizzy to call me if she gets on you. This is big, Alex. They’re all using the same talking points. Kerra Ruby posted last night on social media. It sounded familiar. It was because it was from off-the-books talking points Harriet had given me when she was trying to control the White House’s responses to the media,” Tate responded. “I’ll email it now. Just do it, Alex!”

Tate hung up and snapped a picture of the document Harriet had given her and sent it to Alex. Birch was right, it was a tingle down her spine, and she felt it now. She was onto something—something big.