Georgie
“So what happened?” Jameson asked me, once we finally made it to the bedroom.
We lay in bed, the room darkened except for the bright stream of moonlight from the bay window, our hearts finally beating normally again. After the stairs, the hallway and, at last, the bed, we both seemed content.
“What do you mean ‘what happened’?” I traced lazy patterns on Jameson’s bare chest, careful not to wake his now-sated desire because I wasn’t sure I could physically handle round four.
“You aren’t the same woman I left this morning,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on top of my head.
“I know. I had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment with myself.”
“A what?” Jameson chuckled, and the vibration of his body rippled across mine. Laughter felt good.
“An epiphany. I heard what someone shouted when you left this morning. It made me sick, and I wanted to run back into the bedroom and hide under the covers. But then I realized Russell Hunt was controlling this story. Every vile thing said about me, about us, meant that no one was paying attention to the agents who were killed or to the children. That needed to change. So I did something.”
“So you did something,” Jameson repeated.
“Are you mad?”
“I was, at first. And then I realized everything you said was true. We have to control this story or, at least, regain enough control.”
“And that wasn’t going to happen if I locked myself in this bedroom.”
“I talked to Ron Engle today after your press conference.” This was news. I wondered if he was mad at Ron for helping me, for not calling to give him a small warning. “I’m going to pay him to represent the families of the agents if they want to pursue a civil case against Hunt.”
“Oh, Jameson.” I felt breathless. The plea bargain Russell Hunt accepted meant those families would never get the justice they deserved. Russell Hunt would never truly pay for what he did. And now Jameson made it possible for them to get answers and a little bit of closure.
“It was the right thing to do.” Jameson’s arms tightened around me. “And now, we have to focus on the campaign again. Any day now, the Republicans will announce Huntley’s replacement.”
“Are you nervous?”
Jameson was quiet for a long while, his eyes fixed on something unseen and full of thought. “Sean gave me a list of names that have been tossed out. None of them concern me.”
Something in his voice betrayed him. “But …”
“But there is a name, another senator. If they pick him, then the next few weeks will be nonstop work. Because he will challenge me in ways that Huntley never could.”
“Who is it?”
“Elias Garcia.”
I gasped because I was very familiar with Elias Garcia. He’d been in the Senate longer than Jameson, but they had very similar political backgrounds. Both decorated veterans. Both dived straight into politics after finishing their service. Elias Garcia had an immigrant story, though, because his family came to the United States from Mexico. This made him a Republican rock star. They often invoked his parents’ story when talking about immigration reform. Senator Garcia, too, used his family to promote his policy. He was a conservative because his parents were strict. They scrimped and saved to give their children a good life, but they didn’t splurge on extravagance. Conservatives adored him for the lessons he learned from his parents and brought to the Senate floor.
“So you’ve heard of him then,” Jameson replied.
“Yes. He’s the Republican version of you.”
“I know. That’s why I think the Republicans will finally convince him to run. They want to beat me, and they know there’s not a single candidate who can do it. It’s what they should have done from the very beginning. Then this would be a real race.”
“Things would definitely have been different,” I muttered. So many things might not have happened.
I felt Jameson’s finger firmly under my chin, lifting it until our gazes locked. He read my thoughts.
“Don’t think like that,” he commanded gently.
Suddenly, I was too hot in his embrace, and I needed space. I scrambled across the bed and sat up, bringing my knees to my chest.
“How can I not think like that, Jameson? Russell Hunt changed my life. He is the star of my every nightmare.” I ran a hand through my hair and sighed heavily. “Did others know about their relationship?”
That question had often invaded my thoughts. Did other Republicans know about Governor Huntley and his son? Who knew their plans? Who else deserved to be punished? A silent rage seemed to bubble to life, startling me. I had never felt that kind of anger before, and it scared me.
“I don’t know. The lawyers are handling the investigation. Do you want me to ask?”
“No,” I said with finality. It was time to stop dwelling and start living.