The Gambit (50 page)

Rachel gave her aunt a hug and then said her goodbyes to her mother.

“I love you, Mom—so much.”

“Be careful, okay?” she said, squeezing her daughter in a bear hug.

“I will. I will call you once all of this is over.”

“I love you, Rachel.
Para siempre
.”

Briana and Grey were already in the car. Rachel released her mom and went to get in. I followed her.

“Owen,” Mrs. Flores called from behind me. I turned around and approached her. She opened her arms, suggesting that we hug. I lightly hugged her and patted her back.

“
Remember
what I said…” She whispered into my ear.

I released her, and we stared at each other. Her face was stone cold. She had meant what she asked of me. I nodded in understanding. I planned on honoring her request. I would keep Rachel safe at all costs. We broke our stare, and I turned toward the rental car. I got in the back seat and immediately felt Rachel’s eyes digging into the side of my face. The door thudded shut.

“Owen,
where
are we going?” she asked in an irritated tone.

I looked at her and felt my gut swimming around in fear of her reaction.

“Atlanta,” I said.

How
had this gone so far? He had been on the run for over a week. That was seven days too long for my liking. This was a thousand times worse than when Viktor went missing. When he left New York, it was like he had disappeared into thin air. It was forgotten about in a matter of weeks. Owen’s chase had been televised daily. His reappearance in Miami only caused more coverage, and the news had fulfilled their role excellently. We were leading in the polls. The Convergence Party’s chance of winning was nonexistent. Although, the longer he remained out of our grasp, the more risk was involved. The last thing I wanted was for him to surprise us, to surprise the country. That would impede the work we have already done. It was counterproductive, and I was under strict orders to neutralize the threat Owen Marina posed to the existing establishment.

I had been chewing on my lower lip so frequently that I thought I tasted blood. I was unbelievably stressed. Angry, too—I was
very
angry. After what happened yesterday, I had to get out of that control room. I was so livid when I watched him escape from the Tahoe that I could have killed someone. I needed some alone time to think. What was our next move? Seven Miami officers were dead, and now the entire country was on edge. A week ago, I would have been content with Owen in handcuffs. A televised trial and then his certain prosecution. It was not like the trial mattered anyway because the election would have already been won. Now though, after what everyone
saw
on the news, would they want that?

The American People weren’t compassionate towards terrorists. They wanted justice, and in my experience, they saw justice as an eye for an eye. The old Owen was dead to them. He was no longer a hero, or even a citizen. He was a
traitor
. He didn’t deserve a right to a trial. So perhaps, we should give them what they wanted. An
eye
for an
eye
.

Three soft knocks came from my door. My head hurt too much to get up.

“Come in.”

Marc entered and sat down in the leather stationary chair. This wasn’t even my office. I hadn’t a clue whose it was. The President knew how badly me and Marc didn’t want to lose control of the White House, so he temporarily put us in charge of this operation. He knew what was at stake in this election.
Someone
had to do the dirty work behind closed doors, and I was happy to oblige. Marc let out a long exhale, and the bags under his eyes were more pronounced. His hair was a mess, and he just looked disheveled. I wondered how I looked…probably worse.

“Veronica,” he began, “We need to talk.”

If it were
anyone
other than Marc, I would have thrown something at them and told them to get the hell out of here. This was my quiet time. I only had two hours until I went to the control room.

“Well then, let’s talk.”

I sat more upright and interlaced my fingers, resting them on my lap. I had been in politics for over twenty years, and I still loathed how uncomfortable business clothes were.

“I overheard the Intel guys saying you gave them orders that we want Owen brought in
dead
or alive? Have you lost your mind?”

My nostrils flared, and I felt my face contort before I had the chance to answer.

“Not yet,” I spat. “Have you?”

His forehead creased, and his eyes were wide.

“Veronica, are you kidding me?”

“No,” I replied flatly.

“The election is in the bag. Your party has taken the lead, and mine and Owen’s are trailing more and more every day. You did what the President asked of you, and now that you
can
sit back and relax, you choose to do the exact opposite. Why?”

“He is still out there, Marc!” I raised my voice. “A terrorist is still out there.”

He snorted and shook his head in disapproval.

“Listen to yourself!” he huffed. “We both know that is a lie, and it always has been. We created it.”

Anger began to bubble up inside me. Whose side was Marc on?

“We have seven dead cops on our hands! Do you want to just sit around and wait for Owen to pull his next stunt? Is that what you want?”

“Damn it, Veronica!” he shouted and slammed his fist on the desk. I pressed my lips together and stared at him, stunned. “I do realize that you are in charge here, but you need to remember that you were in diapers when I was in law school. I want you to get a grip of yourself! Seven dead is a drop in the hat. It makes me sick to think you have so easily forgotten about the seventeen lives that
we
took the night of the debate. The only reason I haven’t left Washington yet is because I need to collect my salary for a few more years before I can get the hell out of Dodge.”

I couldn’t have cared less about the people we killed at the debate. All that mattered to me was the fact that Owen wasn’t one of those seventeen. Cole
and
Owen were supposed to die—not just Cole. A sharp pain in my head made me wince.

“You’re giving me a headache,” I announced. He stood up angrily.

“You’re gonna have one hell of a headache if this shit backfires on us! Getting away with murder is one thing, but doing it twice? You are pushing it, Veronica. I’ve seen people twice as cunning as you dig their own grave.”

“Bite me,” I spat.

“Have you been fishing before?” he asked with his eyebrows quirked.

“Why? Where the hell did that come from?”

“Just answer the damn question!” he retorted.

I chewed my lower lip. He was beginning to tick me off. Perhaps he had forgotten
I
was the one in charge, not him. But for the time being, I would give him the satisfaction of going along with his advice.

“Yes, when I was young.”

“Well, perhaps your memory is foggy. I’m going to spell it out loud and clear for you. Let’s say you’re fishing at the end of a dock, and you’ve baited the hook.”

“Are you serious right now?” I sneered, interrupting him.

He rolled his eyes at me and pushed back his graying hair.

“Just listen. You cast your line, and the bait sinks beneath the water. You feel a tug and pull back. You can feel the weight of the fish as you hook it, and you get excited, so you yank it up harder, reeling it in as fast as you can. Then, you lose the fish. You broke the line.”

I was completely lost where he was going with this. So I stared at him like he was an idiot.

“Wow,” he snorted. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“No.”

“We have the election in the bag, Veronica. Owen is still out there, but we can consider him hooked. It is just a matter of time before you are reeling him in, and if you do it slow and steady, it will work. Giving the Intel guys those orders was mistake—a huge one. Your line is fraying, Veronica, and if you keep it up…it’s going to break.”

He turned around and headed for the door. He looked at me once more and shook his head with a sigh. He closed it behind him, and I was left alone…
finally
. His statement had me fuming. Who the fuck did he think he was? Talking to me like he was my father, and explaining his God awful parallel that was completely unrelated. Owen wasn’t a fish. He was bright, charming, and intelligent. I could admit it. I had met him. He was the
last
obstacle preventing resuscitation of our plan. The plan that was cut short. No, Marc was wrong. My line wouldn’t break. It couldn’t, because I had the entire federal government helping me reel him in. I would have been a liar if I said I was content with Owen being brought in in handcuffs. I wanted more. I cringed at the thought of how much of a fool he made out of me at the airport. The older Intel guys who knew this was all a sham sure were cheeky after he escaped. I would show them what I was capable of. Veronica Hall was the wrong person to fuck with. I was ruthless, and I knew it. It had gotten me this far, so why would I change now?

If Owen was a fish…I planned on turning him into a goddamn fillet.

The ride was long—eight hours. We only stopped once for gas, snacks, and to use the bathroom. I pissed in a bottle. Going inside wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. Rachel had bundled herself in so many layers she was unrecognizable. Thankfully she wasn’t given a second glance from what Briana and Grey said.