President's Girlfriend 06 - The Sins of the Fathers (12 page)

“You have
access, Mr. Rance,” Thurston continued.
 
“And you also have what it takes to get the job done.
 
I’m an old man now, with all kinds of
ailments.
 
I won’t be around much
longer.
 
There’s little they could do to
me.
 
Death, in fact, would be more
tolerable.
 
But what that so-called
president did to my son is not acceptable.”

Although
Marcus was reasonably certain that the man in the wheelchair was Thurston’s
son, he wanted to see what Thurston had to say.
 
“Your boy, your son, he’s not dead, is he?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, no.
 
Death would have been too easy for him.”

Thurston
looked over at his son, but didn’t acknowledge him.
 
“Dutch Harber knows what he’s doing,” he
continued.
 
“He wouldn’t kill him.
 
He just made him a human vegetable.
 
He can only sit in a wheelchair, with support
of course.
 
He can’t feed himself, he
can’t talk,
he
can’t clean his own shit.
 
My brilliant surgeon son can do nothing on
his own now.
 
Thanks to Dutch
Harber.
 
And for that, Dutch Harber has
to pay.
 
Before I die, he has to pay.”

He looked
back at Marcus.
 
“I would do it myself,
but I have no access.
 
You do.”

Marcus
stared at the man.
 
How the fuck did he
expect
him to kill the President of the United States?
 
He was under around-the-clock guard.
 
“How do you figure I accomplish this feat?”
he asked his potential sugar daddy.

“Find a
way,” Thurston said.
 
“If you find a way and
get it done, a private jet will be waiting for you to take you and your
millions to wherever you want to go.
 
Free to live however you want to live.”

Marcus
leaned back.
 
With Jade’s access, under
the guise of Gina as target, he might just be able to pull this off.
 
Yes, he thought.
 
He just might be able to do this.

“But not for
three mill,” he said to Thurston.
 
“If
you want POTUS, it will have to be ten.”

Thurston
stared at Marcus.
 
Said
nothing for a long time.
 
Then he
nodded his head.
 
“Good,” he said.
 
“I would have thought I had the wrong guy if
you would have accepted three.
 
And yes,
Mr. Rance, I do want the president.
 
You
are so right about that.
 
I want Dutch
Harber to suffer.
 
Yes.”

He looked at
his paralyzed, drooling son again.
 
“I
want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.”

As soon as
the doors to the Situation Room were opened and Dutch and his National Security
Advisor, Ed Drake, emerged, Ralph Shaheen, the head of the Secret Service,
commandeered him.
 

“Hello, Ralph,”
Dutch said jovially.
 
He and Shaheen went
back many years.

“How are
you, sir?
 
Advisor
Drake?”

“What brings
you over here?” Dutch asked him.

“Your wife
requests that you come with me, sir.”

“Ooh oh,” Ed
said jokingly.
 
“I know who’s staying
after school.”

Dutch
smiled.
 
“Tell her that I have another
meeting.
 
I’ll get with her later today.”

“Now, sir,”
Ralph said.
 
He was a big, burly man,
brown hair,
brown
eyes.
 
Midnight black skin.

“Excuse me?”
Dutch said.
 
He wasn’t accustomed to his
orders being questioned.

“Your wife
said I was not to take no for an answer, sir.”

That didn’t
sound like Gina.
 
But it was also rare
for the head of the Secret Service to come and approach him this way, too.
 
Dutch therefore excused himself from Ed, and
he and Ralph headed down the corridor.

“What’s going on, Ralph?”
Dutch asked as they walked.

“Your wife
will explain, sir.”

That wasn’t
exactly the answer Dutch was going for, but he let it slide.
 
And followed Ralph down the back stairs of
the White House, along a long corridor he wasn’t all that familiar with, to the
private parking area.
 
An older model
Chevy Malibu was parked in the garage.
 
Dutch looked at Ralph, who proceeded to get into the backseat.
 
Dutch bent down, looked through the window,
and saw that Gina was behind the wheel.
 

He opened
the passenger side door.
 
“What do you
think you’re doing?” he asked her.

“Get in,”
she said cheerfully.

Dutch was
surprised by this display, but he got into the car anyway.
 
He looked down, at the nice twill pants and
matching blouse she wore, and then he looked into her face.
 
“You don’t intend to drive this thing?” he
asked her.

“Of course I
intend to drive it!
 
Why do you think I’m
behind the wheel?
 
Before I married you I
actually had to drive myself everywhere I went.”

“No
kidding?” Dutch said, kidding with her.

“For real though.
 
I’m a great driver.”

Dutch didn’t
doubt that she was.
 
But just sitting
there, with his wife behind the wheel of a car, caused him to realize just how
much of a cocoon they lived in, and had lived in.
 
He’d never seen his own wife drive a
car.
 
And, he realized, she’d never seen
him drive.
 
His presidency had forced
them to be chauffeured around the entirety of their marriage.

“So where
are we going?” he asked her.

“A nice, quiet place.”

“And what about our son?”

“He’s with
LaLa and Crader.
 
He’s fine.”
 
She then took his hand.
 
“I just want you to relax.
 
And get some rest.”

Dutch
certainly couldn’t argue with that.
 
He
needed rest.
 
Plenty of
it.
 
But again, the world didn’t
stop just because he was tired.
 
“Babe, I
can’t just take off like this,” he said.
 
“I am booked solid with meetings today.”

“Not
anymore,” Gina said with a wry smile.

Dutch stared
at her.
 
“What do you mean not
anymore?”
 
Then he thought about Ralph in
the backseat, and the fact that Gina was so certain of herself at this
moment.
 
“You cancelled my meetings?” he
asked her.

This was the
moment that she knew all along would make or break their little getaway.
 
“I did tell Allison to cancel your meetings,
yes I did.
 
But just for today,
Dutch.
 
You deserve a break.”

“So you went
behind my back and had my chief of staff cancel every single one of my
remaining meetings?”
 
He asked this with
shock in his voice.

Gina braced
herself for his wrath.
 
But she knew he
needed to get away if only for a night.
 
She was willing to take the hit.
 
“Yes,” she said.
 
And then she
waited for his reply.
 
And
waited.

“Well?” she
said.

Dutch looked
at his wife.
 
“Thank-you, Jesus!” he said
with a grin.

Gina exhaled
with joy.
 
“Ready to blow this joint?”
she asked, cranking up.

Dutch
laughed.
 
“I was born ready,” he said.

“I must say,
sir,” Ralph said, “this is highly irregular.”

Dutch
laughed.
 
“I already figured that out,
Ralph,” he said.

“Oh, wait,”
Gina said.
 
“Take off that coat and
tie.”
 

Dutch didn’t
question it.
 
Gina had his best interest
at heart and he wasn’t fighting it.
 
He
removed his coat and tie.
 
Gina handed
them to Ralph Shaheen, and Ralph then handed her a blue and white letterman
jacket with a baseball cap.
 

“Put these
on,” Gina said, giving them to Dutch.

Dutch smiled
and he did as he was told.
 
When he
zipped up the jacket, Gina began laughing.

“What?” he
asked,
genuinely confused.

“You look
like a gym teacher,” she said.

“Just drive,
you,” he said.

And she
did.
 
Gina, Dutch, the head of the Secret
Service, and a full contingent of agents left the White House as if they were
ordinary staffers leaving work.
 
Dutch
continued to stare at Gina, still amazed to see her behind the wheel, and this
wall of security escorted the president and his driving wife out of Washington,
DC, across the Potomac, and into Virginia.

They drove
down a secluded street, through an electronic privacy gate that was now manned
by the Secret Service, and onto property that Dutch knew all too well.
 
It was a lakefront home he purchased years
ago, when he was a United States Senator.
  
Gina drove around the horseshoe driveway and parked in front of the
circular steps.
 

Dutch just
sat there.
 
Amazed.
 
Gina looked at him.
 

“I haven’t
been here in years, Gina,” he said.

“I
know.
 
I had the caretaker spruce up the
place and the Secret Service did their security sweep.
 
And here we are.”

Dutch felt
so blessed to have her in his corner.
 
He
almost choked up right then and there, but he wasn’t about to put on that kind
of emotional display in front of Ralph Shaheen.
 
They got out of the car and went inside the home.
 
Ralph got out too, and headed around the vast
property to ensure airtight security.

As soon as
Dutch and Gina entered the home, and Gina moved away from him, he pulled her
back.
 
And pulled her
into his arms.

“One rule,”
he said as he kissed her on the mouth.

She enjoyed
his taste.
 
“And what rule is that?” she
asked him.

He kissed her again, this time more
passionately.
 
“No clothes,” he said
between kisses.
 
Gina grinned.
 
She didn’t like rules, but she was certain
she could live with that one.

CHAPTER SIX

“Whoa, not
so fast, you,” Dutch said as he pulled Gina back and wrapped her in his
arms.
 
“I said no clothes.”

Gina looked
at him.
 
“You didn’t mean now, did you?”

Dutch began
kissing her neck.
 
“Why
not now?”

“But Dutch,”
Gina said, lifting her chin to give him full access, “this is supposed to be a
time for you to relax.”

“What do you
think I’m doing?” he said, as his kisses trailed down to her chest.
 
“This is very relaxing.”

“Dutch, come
on.
 
You know what I mean.
 
I want you to do absolutely nothing for a
change.”

“You smell
so good,” he said as he began unbuttoning her blouse.
 
“You always smell so good.”
 
He opened her blouse and then pulled her bra
cups down below her hefty breasts.

Gina
inwardly smiled.
 
Once those breasts of
hers were exposed, she knew there was no stopping him now.
 

“Now this is
even more relaxing,” Dutch said as his hands began to fondle her breasts in
tight squeezes.
 
And then his mouth
joined his hands as it began to press soft kisses all over her juicy breasts.