Chapter Five

 

Linda settles into her seat and tries not to think too hard about the looks that she was certain that he was giving her. It's nothing personal. If it was, then it didn't mean anything.

But she could deny the hard gaze that he leveled at her. The way that it made her feel weak. Like a child, all of a sudden. Was it something wrong with her?

She wasn't sure. Couldn't begin to say. And even if she could, she wouldn't want to try if she didn't have to.

Sure, he's got a long history with women. And women have a long history with him.

Sure, he's the man that she was thinking a lot more about than she probably should have been, ever since she was old enough to think about men that way.

That all added up to the reason that she was absolutely imagining things. She could play it cool, though. She'd already had to learn how to do that.

This was just a particularly advanced application of playing it cool and keeping herself under control, after all. Nothing to panic over and certainly nothing to write home about. She turns towards the TV and settles in with a note pad.

At some point, Tom Delaney's going to show up, and then they're going to have work to do. So she'll just have to catch up on whatever she misses later. More than likely, there won't be much to miss, thankfully.

Not until she and Tom get to spreading all kinds of saucy rumors, anyways. It feels strange to think about it, really. They should be trying to keep rumors locked up. Keep everything quiet.

But if the candidate wants controversy, then she can at least try to keep that controversy contained. And if that candidate is Adam Quinn, then that goes double. Jesus flipping Christ. It really is real. He's really right there.

She lets herself steal a glance over. Even at a desk, he's got impeccable posture. His back to her, he looks imposing. Larger than life.

There's an old joke in Hollywood, people expecting actors to be taller. To be bigger. They shoot films that way. They shoot everything that way.

People naturally attach importance and size together. Someone who's important must be very large indeed, and the camera helps to create that image. Important people fill the frame. They zoom in to make people look as big as possible.

Linda's met a few celebrities. The experience is one that she knows well enough. It's always a surprise when you find out that some hot stud is actually five-seven, when he looked big and imposing on screen. It's the magic of camera-work.

Adam Quinn doesn't have that. She met him and immediately thought that he looked so much bigger than he did on television. Like there was something to him that the camera couldn't contain.

The door to the office opens. Maybe they should have had separate rooms for separate things. But it wasn't her job to make decisions like that. Adam knew how he wanted it, and he'd set it up as a massive bullpen.

Linda looks over her shoulder. A man smiles at her and raises his hand as Adam turns to look as well. He's got a toothy look to him. Predatory. She's never seen him in person, but Linda is surprised that Tom Delaney is just like Adam.

She'd seen his picture, once or twice. You have to know who he is, because he's essentially a nuclear bomb in the political world, and you need to prepare for every option at least a little bit.

He looks average from the photos. Tired, maybe. Sometimes. A little past his prime, maybe. From the photos, at least.

Looking at him now, he doesn't look anything like he's past his prime. He doesn't look aged at all. He looks every bit like the mean son of a bitch that his reputation would present him as. If Adam Quinn were a lion, he'd be a hyena.

One proud, the other mean. Neither one of them is something that you want to fuck with on a safari. Those cool little hats aren't going to keep you safe, and your rifle's going to do piss-all if you let them get the upper hand.

"Tom. Glad you could make it on such short notice."

"Please," he says. He's got a memorable voice himself. He speaks with a growl, like Louis Armstrong. "I was already in town. Hoping you'd call ever since I heard the announcement yesterday morning."

"You know me so well, Tom. This is Linda Owens. You'll be working with her. She can fill you in on the details of what you'll be doing. We can catch up later."

"You got it, Adam. I'll hold you to that."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Adam answers. He turns back again and Tom steps up to the leather sofa that Linda does most of her work from.

'Hyena' doesn't capture Tom Delaney well, either, she realizes. Hyenas are small. They're dangerous because they're mean and they run in packs. But Tom Delaney, he's dangerous all by himself. The look that he rests on her is like an animal looking down on a piece of meat.

"Miss Owens. I saw you on the television last night. Let me guess—Adam sprung that interview on you completely by surprise?"

"Not at all," she answers. What sort of impression is she supposed to give him? What sort of impression does he want from her? And what will he do if she steps out of line?

"Oh, you don't have to be coy with me. I know exactly how much of a son of a bitch Adam Quinn can be."

"I was on my way to the bathroom when I ran headfirst into him."

"Yeah, that sounds like him. You know he left me in Vegas with no car and no shoes?"

"I hadn't heard that one."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. You'd have heard it if I'd done it the other way around, though, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose so."

"It was a good time getting home. Fun. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Then come to Vegas again with me," Adam calls over his shoulder. "I'll help you lose your money again."

"I would," Tom answers. His gravelly voice has something vaguely alluring about it. A shiver hits Linda again like a lightning bolt, caught between these two titanic men. "But I've got a campaign to run."