Bishop (Political Royalty Book 3) (8 page)

“What about poll numbers in Wisconsin?” He’d been so busy shaking hands, he’d barely had a chance to check his phone, let alone go searching through his emails for the latest numbers. He counted on Haven to keep him up to speed, but she was back to giving him a wide path, especially when Justin was around. Not that he blamed her. There was a reason they called it playing with fire.

“Damned if I know.” Travis crumpled the greasy wrapper and shot it at the wastebasket on the floor behind them.

It bounced off the rim and rolled across the floor to rest at Justin’s feet. He cut his eyes at them, kicked it toward them with a loafer that looked like something out of a magazine and went back to the tablet in front of him. He and Haven were going over something—probably the volunteer projections and schedules for the Utah caucus in the morning.

Justin was leaving in a couple of hours to fly to Salt Lake City so he could be on the ground to make sure everything went smoothly. Primaries were a thousand times easier than the
Red Rover, come over
nature of caucuses, but the ground game in states like Utah and Wisconsin could pay big dividends that lasted well into the general. Justin seemed to have a sixth sense on exactly how to motivate the volunteers and how to get them to persuade their neighbors.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” asked Walker, circling back around to his original question.

“I can ask Haven if you want.”

“Don’t you get briefings from the tech guy?” Walker couldn’t remember the guy’s name. He honestly couldn’t remember if he’d actually seen him more than once.

“He took me off the list.”

“Well, get back on the list.” Walker shot his crumpled wrapper squarely in the center of the wastebasket.

“No way. I’m not talking to that crazy fuck,” said Travis with a vehemence that took Walker back a bit. “Listen, I get why we need him. I can see how what he does helps the numbers. Not that I understand it, but I respect results. I’m just not going anywhere near him.” He sat back in his chair, looking as if he dared Walker to challenge him.

It was tempting, but he’d learned early on if you gave people an abundance of quiet and waited them out, you could expect them to fill it.

“I mean, seriously, I made one smart-ass crack about polling projections and the next thing you know, I’m getting dings on my credit report. Took me forever to get it sorted. Talk to him yourself if you want. I’m not going anywhere near the vindictive whack-job.”

Walker couldn’t hide his grin. Having staff members who couldn’t communicate was no way to run a successful campaign but anything that got Travis that rattled was worth a laugh. He stood, bending to scoop up the ball of paper and toss it into the trash. While they were together, he could ask Justin and Haven and get the projections for Utah as well. He’d started across the room when Sandra blew in through the door, trailing a young blonde woman behind her like a shadow.

She’d left the rally while he was still shaking hands, he assumed to get out of the heat and go back to the hotel room to cool off. From the looks of things, she’d been up to something. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know what. Looking like a woman on a mission, she headed straight for Haven. Walker moved quickly to intercept her, but his wife didn’t glance in his direction.

“Haven, darling,” she said, layering on a thick film of
bless your heart
condescension. “I need help with something. Is there somewhere private we could go to talk?”

He would have bet most of his fortune Sandra wouldn’t confront Haven about what was going on between the two of them. It wasn’t her style. Treating the other woman like a serf and enlisting her to do something demeaning was, starting with telling her to help rather than asking.

“Sandra, Haven is busy with the campaign. What do you need—maybe I can help?”

His wife looked at him, considering, before glancing back at her companion. The young woman looked familiar, but Walker couldn’t place her. She nodded, her eyes huge and owlish, and Sandra turned back to face him.

“Fine, but I need Haven too.”

“Of course, Mrs. Walker,” said Haven, interjecting herself between them. “We can use the room next door. It’s empty.” She motioned to the door linking the adjacent hotel room. “Give me a minute to finish up here and I’ll join you.”

Not waiting for Sandra’s answer, she turned her attention back to a stunned-looking Justin. Sandra ushered the other woman through the door and Walker had a moment to wonder where he was supposed to be.
Did he follow his wife or wait for his mistress? How the fuck did men do this shit?
He felt completely out of his element and uncharacteristically irrelevant. In the end, he trailed after Sandra, taking one of the armchairs in the small seating area. Sandra and the other woman sat on the small sofa and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought his wife was being protective. It didn’t make sense, but nothing about this cluster fuck made sense anymore.

“Shepherd Walker,” he said, leaning forward and offering the young woman his hand.

She took it, the strength of her grip surprising him. She’d seemed shy, almost shrinking, to begin with, but it was as if sitting next to Sandra somehow gave her confidence.

“Becca Newman,” she said. “Matt—the
Tribune
reporter—is my brother.”

It only took a second for him to put it all together. The family resemblance, now that he knew about it, was easy to see.

“You’re at ASU, right?” Her brother had said something about computers, he thought. “Are you here visiting Matt?”

“Becca’s been traveling with the campaign for a couple of weeks now. While she was on spring break.” Anyone else would hear Sandra’s words as perfectly polite. He’d known her long enough to hear the
you dumb shit
implied. “She spent time with the girls when we were in Florida.”

Sandra would have told him that. He knew she would. He remembered almost everything his staff said to him. Enough that they’d occasionally teased him about it over the years. He wondered how much of what his wife said he missed.

“Of course, how thoughtless of me. The girls had a fantastic time with you and your brother. I’ve been hearing about magic spells and quidditch for weeks. When do you go back to school?”

Before she could answer, Haven slipped into the room and hurried to the armchair across from him. He was such an idiot.
What possible upside was there to wedging himself between his wife and his mistress?

“Now, what can I help you with?” asked Haven, ignoring him for the time being to lean closer to the women.

“I need you to make an assault charge go away.” Sandra leaned back in the sofa, looking like the queen of all she surveyed and clearly enjoying the shock value of her statement.

“Whose assault charge?” asked Haven, barely stumbling over the words.

“My brother was in a fight,” said the young woman, shrinking in on herself again.

“Why would you think that had anything to do with Mrs. Walker?”

The young woman looked to Sandra, misery etched in every line of her face.

“Becca told me what happened to her brother, and I offered to help.”

“Why in the world would you do that?” asked Walker, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. Sandra wasn’t known for her Good Samaritan tendencies. There had to be an angle he wasn’t seeing. “The campaign can’t get involved in personal legal matters. I’m sorry.” He softened his tone and met the young woman’s gaze. “I like your brother. I’d like to be able to help him, but I can’t. You understand, don’t you?”

She nodded, tears filling her eyes, and he stood, figuring she’d rather have some privacy than have him staring at her.

“Shep,” said Sandra, shaking her head. “Sit down.”

She turned her attention to Haven and he was left with a choice to walk out or stay and find out what the hell was going on. There really was no contest. He collapsed back in the chair and waited for something—anything—to make sense.

“Becca’s brother got caught in a fight because he was trying to protect her.”

“That should be self-defense,” said Haven. “Explain.”

Sandra glanced at the younger woman, who nodded reluctantly.

“It wasn’t self-defense because it happened after the fact. Becca went to a frat party a few weeks back and one of the bastards raped her. Her brother found out who, we believe from a compromising photo he saw of her online, and went to teach the other man a lesson.”

She said the words with such a matter-of-fact tone that it would have been easy to minimize the horror of what happened. Looking at the three women, practically side by side, their posture stiff and defensive, it was impossible not to sense the way they’d come together. He thought of his daughters and something primal tightened in his chest. He understood Matt’s actions. He’d do the same damn thing in his place. Faced with the cluster of women, he also couldn’t help but suddenly feel
other
. Like they understood something he couldn’t, like they spoke a language he never would.

Haven reached over and laid her hand on the young woman’s arm. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You know it’s not your fault. I don’t care what the circumstances were. None of this is your fault.”

Becca nodded and Haven gave her arm a squeeze. “You said your brother saw pictures of you on the Internet. I can get our tech guy to find them and get rid of them. His people skills leave a bit to be desired but he’s crazy good and he’ll be discreet.”

“I already took care of them,” said Becca. “I’m a MIS major. Management Information Systems. It’s a way to facilitate people and machines working together. I’m good with computers.”

He saw Haven’s eyes widen and wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was.

“My brother’s in trouble because of me. He’s always taken care of me. I owe him.”

“It’s not self-defense if neither you nor he were in imminent danger. It sounds like vengeance—and while totally understandable given the circumstance—it’s assault.”

“It would be better if you didn’t lead with that when you’re getting the charges dropped.” Sandra turned her attention from Haven to Becca. “And it’s not your fault. Men often lead with their fists.” She paused and Walker heard the unspoken
and other things
. “And leave their brains behind. It’s our job as women to make sure they don’t forget them completely. I’m going to take the town car and Becca, and we’re going to drive to Tucson to get her brother. He should be discharged from the hospital this evening and he will not be going to jail. That gives you two hours to get the charges dropped.” Haven opened her mouth to protest but Sandra was already ushering Becca toward the door. “Oh, and I’m going to need you to come along to make sure everything goes the way it should,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at Haven.

Walker reached out and caught his wife by the arm, holding her in place for a moment until the younger woman was out of earshot.

“Why the sudden interest in other people?” He wanted to believe it was out of the goodness of her heart, but a decade’s worth of experience told him otherwise.

“Sexual violence against women is my new platform,” she said, glancing from his hand on her arm up to meet his gaze, barely concealed fury in her eyes. He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned. “When I’m first lady, it’s going to be my signature issue. We’re going to change the world, darling.”

––––––––

M
ATT’S LAST TWENTY-FOUR hours had been one long continuous stream of shocks. The first had been getting whacked in the back of the head while he was dealing with the ass wipe who hurt Becca. He hadn’t seen that coming—both literally and figuratively. Even more jarring had been waking up in the hospital handcuffed to the bed. He had no idea how fucked he was, only that the guy who raped his sister was in worse shape than he was.

But the biggest shock had been seeing the senator’s wife walk through the door of his hospital room with his sister and a frustrated-looking campaign manager.

Becca rushed through the door and threw herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him like a tree monkey. He held her with his free arm, patting her back and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“What were you thinking?” she said, pulling back to give his arm a whack.

“Ow. Injured here.”

She leaned in to hug him again and he took the opportunity to whisper in her ear. “What’s with the entourage?”

“They’re here to help me spring you.” She gave him a wink and then took a step back, leaving him face-to-face with the icily perfect Sandra Walker.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker. I’d stand, but...” He raised his arm and the cuff scraped against the bedrail.

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste and then smoothing her expression just as quickly. Behind her, Haven, Walker’s campaign manager, stepped out of the room. “How are you feeling?”

Her voice was a combination of warm honey and maternal concern. He had no trouble seeing why his sister would gravitate to her for help, but a lot of trouble understanding everything else. Walker was running for president.
What the hell was his wife doing in the hospital room of a guy who got arrested for assault?
Thank God he hadn’t hit the guy with anything other than his hands, but still. It wasn’t the kind of thing the campaign would want to associate with. He’d been lying in bed, wondering if he’d be able to retain his press credentials if anyone found out, and instead the candidate’s wife showed up. Which asked more questions than it answered.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling at Mrs. Walker before turning his attention to his sister. “How did you find out I was here?”

He’d put off calling her. The very last thing he’d wanted to do was add to her burden. Especially when there wasn’t anything she could do to help. She didn’t even have the car. He’d taken it with him.

“The paper has me listed as your
in case of emergency
contact. The police must have found a business card or something. They called the paper and the paper called me.”

Great. The campaign obviously knew and that meant the chances of hiding what happened from his employer were out the window.
He was surprised his editor hadn’t already called to fire him. She’d never been a fan. This gave her the perfect excuse to let him go. She was probably just waiting until she had a chance to get someone to Arizona to take his place.