Midnight Kiss (Men of Midnight #7) - Lisa Marie Rice Page 0,40

declared his candidacy to a roomful of powerful donors and there was no going back. In a week’s time, Court was going to officially declare his candidacy and start his campaign for the presidency, on a platform of moral probity, and his life would be under intense scrutiny.

Already he’d spent a lot of time shielding his money from prying eyes. There was a class of rabid, ferret-like online journalists now who made a point of digging up dirt. His money was hidden but he had to make sure there were no threads anyone could pull.

That was bad enough, to have this going on while his entire team was focused on riding the wave after declaring his candidacy to the money men. They were all expecting him to be focused like a laser beam on the coming campaign, and he couldn’t do that while embroiled in this mess. All of this was compromising a campaign he’d been planning for thirty years.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was still something he feared more than an aborted political campaign. His son, Bard.

All these years, Court had had no idea that Hope Ellis existed. She died 25 years ago, goddammit. He’d made sure of that, or so he thought. Her mother had died and she should have died as well. That pretty girl in Sacramento was supposed to be a bump in the road, someone inconsequential. A way for his red-blooded son to get his rocks off.

When Bard showed an unhealthy attachment to the trailer-park trash, Court had taken steps. He’d had to, right? That woman was going to ruin Bard’s life. He’d told her Bard died. Five years later, to his horror, after an article on Bard appeared in the news, she’d written letter after letter, insistently, showing photographs of a daughter. Court had had the letters intercepted. He knew he had to take strong steps. A quiet command to the right man, a quiet exchange of money, and the problem was solved. Even better, the problem was gone. Bard had no clue. And life continued.

He’d risen so steadily to the top, step by step — the governorship, Deputy Director of the CIA, the Senate seat. And now he had a good shot at the very top of the ladder, the Presidency. People were tired of the chaos of the past few years and wanted a steady, experienced hand at the helm. Court could promise that. He was a good administrator, a good manager, would keep the ship of state on an even keel after the past turbulent years.

The fact that he wanted the power and intended to earn money off it meant nothing. He was good for the country and the people who counted sensed that.

Really, all he needed was his son by his side occasionally.

Bard. Bard was such a remarkable soldier. A Navy SEAL, for fuck’s sake. Spent most of his life abroad, defending his country. That was excellent, on so many levels. And Bard was easy to love from afar, while he was gone on long deployments.

Not so easy when they were in the same room.

Still, Bard was such a superb campaign prop. Court’s campaign director was obsessed with him. Bard in his dress whites was an amazing sight and photographs of him being awarded medals were going to play a big role in the campaign.

Everything according to plan.

He sat in his office, rubbing his chest, feeling disaster coming like a freight train. With the potential of ruining his plans and his life. Forced to give the order to kill, well, kill his granddaughter.

It was … a pity. For a moment, Court mourned what might have been. Bard never married and probably never would. The Redfield family tree stopped with him. For just a moment there, Court allowed himself a little sentimentality.

A grandchild. A granddaughter. He held the report on her in his hands and had to admire her. She didn’t seem to be a fashion plate, didn’t appear to do much with her looks, but she looked like a Redfield. She had the Redfield green eyes and blue-black hair and fine features. She was super smart too. Graduated from MIT at 21…

Smart and good looking. She’d have made a great addition, an excellent prop. He could picture himself on the campaign trail with a brainy and beautiful granddaughter, an expert in IT, by his side, helping him. He actually needed good help with social media. She’d be so perfect.

Pity.

For an instant, Court thought of acknowledging her. Out-of-wedlock