The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,42

bed?”

He barks out a laugh. “Well tell me how you really feel, Lennix.”

He unknots his tie, flinging it onto the seat beside him. “I’ve seen you and Kimba shake up the political world over the last few years, and I knew I needed the kind of innovative, principled team you put together. And, frankly, having a Native American and an African-American woman on either side of me helps significantly with the minority and female vote. I can win the white guys on my own. In addition to being highly capable, the optics of you and Kimba will help me with the rest.”

Cold hard facts and calculated moves.

My fave.

“Just making sure.” I open the pad and find the notes I took during his speech. “Now let’s talk health care.”

16

Lennix

I barely have energy to roll the suitcase into my apartment. I don’t even bother turning on the lights, relying on the streetlights to stumble back to my bedroom. I flick on my bedside lamp, tempted to fall into my bed wearing the silk blouse and tailored pants that were crisp in New Hampshire, rumpled by Vermont, and probably slightly funky by the time Owen’s plane landed at Reagan National.

“Ugh.” I moan and drag my listless body to the shower, leaving a trail of carelessly discarded expensive clothing in my wake. The rainfall showerhead pours warm, life-giving droplets over my hair and shoulders, massaging the cramped muscles of my neck. I stand there a few minutes, just letting the water cascade along my nakedness, not even reaching for the body wash on the shower ledge. My knees are weak and my heart sits like a barbell in my chest.

The sting of tears surprises my eyes and before I realize what’s happening, a sob shocks my body. I slide down the wall of the shower and land on my butt, pulling my knees to my chest. Rationally, I know what this is. Exhaustion has chipped at my armor, leaving me vulnerable to things I could typically easily withstand. The things I locked away in the basement want out. Even knowing it, I can’t make it stop. I have no defense when memories from Costa Rica unexpectedly splash across the canvas of my mind.

Abe forcing me at gunpoint to step across Paco’s lifeless body on the floor. The six men so close to me when they were shot, I saw the blood and gore of their brains spray the air. So close I stared into the dead eyes in their shattered skulls. The lethal threat of the gun’s cold barrel digging so hard into my temple it broke the skin.

Suddenly, I’m not in the shower. I’m dangling over the side of a cliff, a tangle of trees and the winding river hundreds of feet below. Iron fingers clamp my neck, feeling like they’ll crush my windpipe, cutting off my breath. My heart slams desperate fists behind my chest, pounding, pounding, pounding painfully until I can’t take it anymore. I try to gasp, but there’s no air. I try to scream, but I have no voice.

Black spots dot my vision. The last thing I see are those malicious eyes, maniacal blue, laughing at me through the slits of a mask, and then the world goes dark.

I’m probably only unconscious a few seconds, but I jerk awake still slumped in the corner, the shower a domesticated waterfall, nothing like the untamed waters of the jungle in Costa Rica. The river there has a gaping mouth, thirsty to drown anything that falls into it. I brace my hand against the wall, using it to carefully stand and turn off the shower. I dry off, toweling the water from my hair half-heartedly, the taste of fear still souring in my mouth.

In my closet, I rummage through my gowns and thermals until I find the white silk pajamas Maxim loves. It’s foolish for something of mine to make me feel closer to him, but I don’t care. I relish the feel of the cool silk against my overheated skin like it’s his arms around me. He’ll be home tomorrow. He cancelled his trip to Germany to be with me.

The thought soothes my raw emotions. We’ll only have a few days before Owen and I hit the trail again, but I’ll savor every moment with Maxim.

With the horrific tableau of events so close to the surface of my imagination, I assume I won’t be able to sleep for hours, but my body can’t resist the pull of much-needed rest, and in