The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,40

mutter, pulling out my phone to double check the itinerary for what comes next. A text grabs my attention right away.

Maxim: This shit isn’t funny. It’s been two weeks. I want to see you.

My heart does that little hiccup he always inspires, accompanied by the ache of missing him. It has been two weeks since we saw each other. I’ve been on the trail. He went to Paris then Prague for business. We’re just beginning, but the pace is already hectic, and at the end of every day, alone in whatever unfamiliar bed the hotel provides, I think of Maxim. We talk every day, even if only for a few minutes with time differences and schedule demands, but he’s right. It’s been too long.

Me: I know. I miss you, too. We’re in D.C. next week because Owen has to come home for a vote. Then?

Maxim: Then. I was scheduled for Germany, but I’ll have Jin Lei rearrange.

Me: You sure? I don’t want to disrupt your business. I know how crazy your schedule is.

Maxim: I need to fuck you. I haven’t jerked off this much since I was fourteen.

I giggle and start my reply when Owen walks up. I shove the phone into my pocket and tune back in.

“Ready?” I ask him. “The car’s waiting.”

“Yeah.” He gives me that auto-smile he’s probably defaulted to after a full day of photos and questions and rally stops, but then I see the shift. He dips his head to look directly into my eyes, his smile softening and turning genuine. “You look tired.”

“Says the pot to the kettle.” I fall in step beside him, the two guards not far behind us. “It’s been a grueling day.”

“Yeah, but it’s Pennsylvania. How many times will we come through this state over the next year and a half?”

“Oh, you’ll lose count. Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Florida. We have to hit these swing states hard and often, starting now. They went red last election, and we need to turn them blue again if we have any hope of winning in the general.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He glances down at me from the same great height his brother has. “We have to win the nomination first.”

“I’m not worried about the nomination. You’re so far ahead in the polls for a reason, Owen. There’s not a candidate from the party who can touch you, but you’re right. The Iowa caucus is our first proving ground. We’ve got a year to ensure it’s a knock-out punch. I want as many of those delegates as possible. I want to debilitate the competition—steal their hearts right out of the gate. Make them feel it’s a lost cause before they even start fighting in the primaries.”

“Ruthless little thing, aren’t you?” Owen asks with a smile as we approach his black SUV at the curb.

“If politics doesn’t make you at least a bit ruthless, and in my case, at least a little bit of a bitch, you aren’t doing it right.”

He laughs and turns to his two guards when we reach the car. “Guys, I need to chat with Lennix. One of you take the front seat with the driver, and the other trail in the car behind?”

They nod and split up accordingly. I’m not sure why we need privacy. The guys, whom I know now by first name—Bob and Kevin—kind of melt into the background, and we discuss strategy, schedule and everything in between in front of them. Owen and I climb in, and he rolls up the privacy partition.

“That went really well.” I settle into the seat facing him and pull out the pad from my bag I use to jot down notes when he’s speaking. “There was one thing you said about health care that we need to clarify, though, before the Wisconsin rally tomorrow.”

“That’s what I get for going off-script,” he says, grabbing a bottle of water from the small cooler built into a raised table between us. “Should have stuck to the speech. Before we go there, though, I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

I glance up from my pad with a frown. “Doing okay? What do you mean?”

“Lennix, you were held hostage just a few weeks ago.” Even with the partition up, he still pitches his voice low. “You were back after a few days. We announced my candidacy not long after and hit the ground at jet pace. Of course I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Owen, I’m fine. I’ve been talking with my therapist some by