Knight (Political Royalty Book 1) (9 page)

“I want to cover your campaign. I think Senator Walker is going to win the presidency and I want to be with him when he does.”

Justin picked up the champagne flute by the thin stem and took a sip of the girly drink while Matt went straight for the middle-of-the-day-bourbon on the rocks. It wasn’t five o’clock but it was Sunday and reporters didn’t get reputations as heavy drinkers for nothing.

“Your work’s good, but you’ve never covered anything this big before, have you?” Justin glanced at the rocks glass but simply kept going. “Are you sure your paper will put you up for it?”

“The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m tired of writing fluff pieces no one bothers to read. I can either sit back and wait for things to change, or I can make them change. I’m not waiting.”

Justin nodded with what Matt hoped was approval. He tipped his head to the side, studying him, and Matt felt like a bug pinned to foam core, but he took it, keeping his focus on what he really wanted: a chance to cover the guy who might be president.

“I still think the paper is more likely to send a seasoned correspondent, but if you can get it past them, you can have my blessing. We leave in a week. I have no idea when we’ll be back. If you want a seat on the bus, it’s yours.”

“Can I tell my editor that?”

“Sure, if you think it will help.”

Their burgers arrived, complete with the ornate picks stabbed through the middle that were supposed to make them seem fancier than just ground beef but that really just let all the juice leak out and onto the plate. The fries were fantastic.

“Getting the secretary of agriculture to introduce the senator was a nice bit of work.” Matt took a huge bite of his burger, hoping if he filled his mouth, Justin would fill the silence.

It was a first-year trick but he’d been surprised at the number of times it worked. People generally hated silence and liked to talk about themselves. One plus one occasionally equaled an exclusive. Justin glanced over at him and grinned before taking an equally large bite of his burger.

Okay, so maybe not this time.

They ate in companionable silence. Matt had more questions, but he’d wait to push until they were out on the trail and his seat on the bus secure. By the time he finished his burger and his second bourbon, he decided he liked Walker’s campaign aide. Not many people could maintain a sustained silence without looking like they were holding their breath or making things awkward.

When the server finally brought the check, Matt reached for his wallet, but Justin held up his hand to stop him. “I’ve got this.”

“That’s not necessary.” The other man stared at him and Matt figured a thank-you might get him closer to what he wanted. Antler rubbing with one of the top campaign aides wasn’t going to help him get access to the man who would be king. “Thank you,” he said, changing tactics. “You won’t be sorry.”

“I doubt that,” said Justin, shaking his head.

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“W
ITH NATHAN ESTAVAN declaring, that brings the field to four. Given the circuses of previous years, that feels thin. Are you sure we aren’t missing anyone? You haven’t heard rumbling?” Haven looked around the conference table to Walker and the governor. She’d had this conversation with her staff a dozen times already, and despite their digging, no other candidates had surfaced. Aside from those who already announced they were running, there were a scant handful more who’d gone as far as forming exploratory committees, but they’d all seemed to stop there.

“No one I’ve heard about,” said the governor, leaning back in his chair and looking too cocky for Haven’s comfort.

She had a feeling she’d be battling the governor’s overconfidence for the next nine months. It wouldn’t be as bad if he was right some of the time, but the fact that he’d gotten Jenson’s run wrong hadn’t put a dent in his surety. Hopefully, his arrogance didn’t extend to his son.

“So who’s the biggest threat?” asked Walker. “Estavan is a whack job.”

“Maybe but he’s a Hispanic whack job with an inherent established voice in the media,” said Justin.

Publishing mogul Nathan Estavan’s opinions read like something out of one of the half-dozen gossip rags he owned, but American voters loved a businessman. Especially one who’d continued to make money when the flagship New York papers were struggling to stay viable. They also didn’t seem to care overmuch about facts if the show was good enough, and Estavan put on a great show. It would be a mistake to underestimate the flamboyant man with a healthier than average dose of machismo and an automatic allegiance with the demographic of voters the party always struggled with.

“Simpson will win a handful of states, but it’s hard to see him playing in the Northeast,” said Walker.

“I’m not sure I agree, son,” said the governor. “About him getting his hat handed to him in the Northeast, yes, but I wouldn’t assume Jacob Simpson can win the Evangelicals. Just because he says he’s one, doesn’t mean they’ll believe him. He and that wife of his haven’t exactly built a normal nuclear family. And the states that normally follow the social conservative are also big agriculture states. I think you have a real chance to snatch them out from under him. You’re going to win Iowa and from there they could start falling like dominos.”

“You don’t know that,” said Haven, squaring her shoulders and pitching her voice low so the governor would have to pay attention to her. “Iowa’s a caucus state. It’s hard to predict what voters will do until the last minute and even harder to be sure until they actually take to the floor.”

“Iowa’s just one state,” said Walker. “I still think Jenson’s our biggest challenge. He’s got the credentials and the benefit of hindsight. He can reanimate his organization in most states before we’re even up and running.”

“I’ll take care of Jenson,” said the governor, puffing up in his chair. “The press just needs to get a hold of some of those women he’s been screwing around with and his wholesome family man image is shot. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were too young to vote.”

Haven resisted making a
pot meet kettle
statement but just barely. “With all due respect, sir,” she said, not meaning it. “That’s not a fight we want to engage in.”

“Why the hell not?” The senior Walker looked at her like she’d lost her mind. In his world, she probably had. It wouldn’t occur to the misogynistic asshole that calling attention to Jenson’s philandering would likely call attention to his own.

“Because if we send the press chasing after his women, he’s going to turn around and send them chasing after yours,” said Walker. “And that’s the kind of publicity I don’t need.”

“The senator’s right,” she said, grateful he saw the truth of it without her having to point it out to him. “The press will turn the same spotlight on you. It’s a short-term benefit with a long-term penalty and Jenson isn’t the only one who pays. Don’t worry. We’ll beat Jenson, but not with the same old song and dance.”

“It’s not like anyone is all that shocked anyway when a politician has an affair. A tearful mea culpa and someone like Jenson will be back on track,” said Travis, avoiding looking at the governor.

Beside him, Abby looked like she’d smelled something distasteful. The governor’s cheating obviously messed with her perfect picture of Walker and his family.

There was a soft rap on the door and Haven glanced up to see one of the younger staffers poking her head in and looking stricken.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I think you’re gonna want to see this.”

Haven stood, leading the way as the senator and the rest of the group followed her to a bank of televisions on the far wall. The skeleton staff that grew larger every day, ramping up for Iowa and the rest of the campaign, clustered around screens that stayed tuned to Bloomberg, Fox, and MSNBC all day. Normally the volume stayed off, but someone had turned up the sound on the middle one. The camera zoomed in on a podium with a bright-red sign with Collins printed on it with big white block letters. A young woman in dress whites stood behind the podium and waited for the cheering to die down.

“Turn it up,” snapped Haven.

“After I was injured on my second tour of duty in Afghanistan, I was sent to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany to heal before being sent home. I won’t lie,” she said, clenching her jaw in a way that made it clear she was fighting to hold back her emotions. “When I realized I’d lost both my legs, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go on. The challenge seemed insurmountable. One person sat beside my bed and helped me face the challenges, taking one step at a time until I was running toward a brighter future. She brought out my better nature and helped me find a strength I didn’t know I had.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in while the audience stayed silent, waiting for her to tell them what came next.

“Holy hell,” said Travis, breathing out the words.

“Shhh.” Justin hushed him before Haven had to, which was just as well considering her blood pressure had jumped about a hundred points. Leaning toward the TV like her proximity could bring the announcement sooner, she waited with the rest of the audience, for the first time in a long time, completely out of the loop. She didn’t know any more than anyone else, and she hated it.

“She is the one person—the only person—who can help our country do the same thing. To face our challenges and inspire us to find our strength. It is my honor to introduce one of the first female African-American four-star generals and our future president, General Miranda Collins.”

Dressed in a fitted navy suit with a crisp white blouse, the handsome black woman stepped forward to meet the cheering crowd. The young soldier saluted her and General Collins met the salute with her own before pulling the other woman in for a hug. She was the perfect mix of humanity and strength. A triple threat.

It took ages for the crowd to quiet. They didn’t really stop cheering until she held her hand up, commanding their attention. When she stepped behind the podium, a hush fell over the crowd as if she’d flipped a switch.

“I stand before you today simultaneously excited about our future and worried about the world my grandchildren will inherit.”

“She’s a grandmother?” asked one of the staffers.

“That’s one badass granny,” said another.

Haven held her hand up and her staff fell quiet.

“We have never faced a time with so many challenges and so many opportunities, and it takes a steady hand to guide our country into the future, to help us navigate the forces that threaten us. We are a world weary of war, but we are not yet safe. As long as there are those who would take advantage of the weak and attack those who can’t defend themselves, we are obligated as human beings to stand between them and those who would harm them. When a terrorist decides it’s easier to target civilians at a nightclub or busy airport than it is to engage on the battlefield, then we must adjust our strategy to face them. What we can’t do—what we must never do—is quit because the fight suddenly got more complicated. It has been my honor to wear my country’s uniform for all of my adult life. It would be my highest honor to serve as its commander in chief.”

“Fuck me hard,” murmured Justin under his breath.

Haven cut her gaze to him and then back at the screen. “That about covers it.”

“W
E’RE SCREWED,” SAID TRAVIS WHEN they were back in Haven’s office behind closed doors.

“Way to keep it positive.” Walker said the words but his feelings echoed Travis’s. How the hell was he supposed to fight against a seasoned war hero who also happened to be a black grandmother? She was like the trifecta. The perfect storm of an impossible candidate.

“We’re not.” Abby left off the word screwed. Honestly, Walker didn’t know if she could even say it. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her curse. But the tone of her voice said she wasn’t sure.

“We’re not screwed,” said Haven, sounding sure.

He glanced at her, seeing the strength in her hazel eyes and something inside his chest relaxed. If he was going into battle, at least he’d have her by his side. There was comfort in that.

“We’re just in for a fight. We want that, right?” she said, scanning the room. “Nobody wants the presidency handed to them.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Justin. “Kidding.” He backed down when Haven glared at him.

The similarities between Haven and Collins hadn’t been lost on him. She’d quieted her staff as quickly as the general had the crowd, and he had no doubt, with the people who knew her at least, she inspired the same kind of loyalty. He doubted there was anything Justin wouldn’t do for her and even the new staffers looked to her instead of him for guidance. Hopefully having Haven on his side would be enough to help him beat Collins and the others, but he felt a lot less certain than he had when he woke up that morning. The fact that the governor had taken to sitting quietly in the corner, not voicing an opinion, didn’t help. His father always had a plan—often the wrong one, but a plan.

“So where do we go from here?” he asked, waiting for the magic bullet.

“I think we can safely assume General Collins has just moved herself to the top of the likely adversaries list. So what do we know about her?” said Haven, picking up her ever-present dry erase marker and heading to the whiteboard taking up most of one wall.