Alpha Prez and the First Lady's Secret Weapon

By Kendall Grey

With guns like these, who needs the Second Amendment?

Terrorism. Corruption. Lawlessness.

Criminals are literally getting away with murder while career congressmen sit in their ivory towers, wringing their hands, calling each other names, and pointing fingers.

The American people are fed up with the same old empty promises from politicians. It's time to elect a president who will kick some ass.

Enter Jake Hammer, the sexy-as-hell senator and presidential hopeful from Massachusetts. His stance on combating terrorism is as hard as his abs. His commitment to pound purveyors of corruption into submission makes his constituents swoon. His vow to nail criminals leaves female citizens breathless.

With a landslide sweep of the Electoral College, Jake and his mysterious new bride Setta are heading to the White House, but neither the president nor the first lady are what they seem. When a dangerous enemy from his past returns, their marriage may not be the only thing under fire. The country he worked so hard to save could go up in smoke.

Now, more than ever, the United States needs a hero.

Alpha Prez to the rescue.

* This action/adventure story contains adult language, a sizzling side of hot sex, and lots of law breaking. It is NOT a romance, but it does have strong romantic elements.

** No politicians, political parties, or feelings (I hope!) were harmed during the making of this novel. This story was written in good fun and is not intended to push any political agenda.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Howling Mad Press
• Release date: Dec 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9780986146558

Kendall Grey

A whale warrior, marathoner wannabe, and vodka martini aficionado, Kendall Grey is calm like an F-bomb*. She writes books about fierce women in genres ranging from erotica to urban fantasy comedy. Her aliases include Kendall Day (FALLING FOR MR. SLATER) and Seven Slade (COMING OUT). Kendall lives off a dirt road near Atlanta, Georgia with her dashing geek husband, their two wildly creative transgender sons, a one-eyed Dachshund that thinks she's a cat, and an incorrigible yet adorable mutt whose ice-blue eyes will steal your heart and hold it for ransom. *Detonation manual not included.

Book preview

Alpha Prez and the First Lady’s Secret Weapon

Alpha Prez and the First Lady’s Secret Weapon

Kendall Grey

Howling Mad Press

ALPHA PREZ AND THE FIRST LADY’S SECRET WEAPON

Copyright © 2016 by Kendall Grey

Published by

Howling Mad Press, LLC

P.O. Box 660

Bethlehem, GA 30620

www.howlingmadpress.com

All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Edited by Jennifer Sommersby Young

Cover design by QDesign

ISBN-10: 0-9861465-5-2

ISBN-13: 978-0-9861465-5-8

First E-book Edition: October 2016

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Dedication

For America.

Fuck yeah.

Contents

Dear Reader,

Ball and Chain

The Honeymoon’s Over

The Truth Comes Out

Essence of Alpha

Let the Games Begin

Dinner Is Served

Rollin’

Room Service

Ace of Spades

Burning Bridges

Ghost Town

Stick a Fork in Me. I’m Done.

Pussy-Whipped

School Is in Session

An Unlikely Ally

The First Lady’s Secret Weapon

The Cavalry

Boss Man

Shell Game

Teamwork

Inauguration Day

Want to try another book from the Kendallverse?

About the Author

Also by Kendall Grey

Dear Reader,

This book is a work of fiction. It’s silly, gratuitous, and completely over-the-top. I intentionally wrote it that way for the sole purpose of entertaining you.

Jake and Setta Hammer are ridiculous characters who could never, EVER be a real president and first lady. They break the law. Repeatedly. Shamelessly. They’re renegades. Vigilantes. Caricatures.

Please don’t take anything you read within these pages seriously or mistake this story for political commentary. I’m not pushing any agenda. The truth is, I don’t condone most of what these characters do. I just wanted to have fun writing a crazy book.

I invented some of the place names and people in this story (Iraj/Irajians, Arkhanistan, Rassia, Saria, for example). I intend no disrespect to real countries or the citizens thereof.

Also, terms and spellings for Emirati clothing were confirmed by a source who speaks Arabic (thank you, John!). He says the English spellings can be complicated and remain up for debate, so some readers may disagree with my choices.

I think that’s everything.

Fiction. <—Please remember that word as you read. Oh, and obviously, the willing suspense of disbelief definitely applies here too. :-)

---

—Kendall

Ball and Chain

I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, the reverend proclaimed with a wide smile.

Everyone in the church seemed to hold their breath as Jake Hammer lifted the veil and met his bride’s gaze. He palmed her elbows covered by long, white gloves that set off her light brown skin.

Make it good, he told himself, painfully aware of the hundreds of guests waiting for him to seal the deal. Setta blinked up at him with kohl-rimmed charcoal eyes he couldn’t read. No wedding day jitters for her. The woman was as steady and true as a compass. And he had just the magnetism to send her needle spinning.

All in good time.

He nudged a foot forward, lowered his head, and dipped in for a kiss—their very first. As their lips met, Setta inhaled deeply enough for the nearby cameramen to pick up for the nightly news. She snaked her arms around Jake’s shoulders, one hand holding a bouquet of calla lilies, the other fumbling softly through his product-encrusted black hair. She gave the wedding guests and reporters just the right dosage of awkward innocence paired with a splash of passion. The roar of applause and whistles confirmed the world approved.

Jake stepped up the kiss, shouldering in closer, scooping his arms under hers, and lifting her feet from the ground. She laughed into his mouth. Gazing lovingly at him, she whispered, You can put me down now, asshole.

One more. He mouth-tackled her again, grazing her tongue. She tensed in his arms as he squeezed her tighter than necessary.

When their lips parted, she cooed, You do that again, and you’ll come away without a tongue.

Only the deepest kisses for my wife, he chided and set her down.

As they lifted their hands in unison to wave and smile at the sea of clapping black tuxedos, military uniforms, and formal gowns, Setta toed the wide hem of her dress over Jake’s foot and ground her four-inch pointed heel into it, hiding her treachery behind a red-carpet smile. Through clenched teeth, he bit out, Temper, temper, and yanked his foot away, grinning at her.

I now present Mr. and Mrs. Jake Hammer, the pastor shouted into the microphone, your future president and First Lady of the United States of America!

The ensuing cheers knocked the time-space continuum off its path with no fewer than eleventy thousand camera snaps and chants of Hammer nailed it! At least the blinding flashes blotted Setta from his sight. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about nailing a beauty like her, but after getting to know the real Setta Moreno over the course of six months, the last thing he wanted to do was fuck his wife.

Maybe Buddy could find him some porn to take out his frustrations on later. With all the scrutiny placed on a president-elect, he couldn’t cheat—not that he would, even though his contract with Setta allowed it. Along with his wedding vows, he agreed to play nice, which was not typical of his ongoing commitment to making the United States a safer place. No, nice guys ended up walked over. Or dead. And guys like Jake took it upon themselves to ensure they kept breathing while the other guys … didn’t.

Jake wound Setta’s arm through the crook of his elbow and guided her down the aisle. They laughed and waved and pointed and looked perfect like all newlyweds do. The faces blurred past. The only one that stood out was his longtime friend and cohort, Buddy McDonald. Buddy lifted his chin at Jake, an alpha-bro gesture they’d exchanged a thousand times.

When they reached the exit, Jake turned to Setta and whispered, Well, I’m glad that’s over. Now I can get to work and pretend this never happened.

January can’t come soon enough, she mumbled as her father approached and hugged her.

A short, portly man, Mr. Moreno had a fierce fire about him where his daughter was concerned. The US Ambassador to Colombia, Moreno was one of the few men in the world who actually scared the shit out of Jake. He once had a dream that Moreno was a Colombian drug lord, and though he had no reason to believe it, he sometimes wondered. His daughter was a ball-buster too. Like father, like daughter.

Moreno offered his hand to shake. Jake accepted it solemnly. I promise to take good care of your daughter, sir.

You’d better, came his father-in-law’s reply, slathered in a thick Spanish accent. Those eyes. Blacker than oil. Jesus, they could suck the soul from a blind, newborn puppy. Jake resisted the urge to swallow, opting instead for intensifying his grip on the old man’s hand.

A good president never shows fear and always assumes the position of power.

Mrs. Moreno eased in beside her husband and smiled graciously. A fine web of crow’s feet highlighted the blue of her irises. Setta’s Colombian dad might’ve contributed to her temper and exotic complexion, but her mom’s blond Swedish genes carved out Setta’s curves and the edgy lines of her face. Hell of a DNA combination. Too bad their mash-up produced such a cold mannequin—pretty on the outside, no warmth inside. Setta was like a priceless piece of art you couldn’t touch for fear of getting zapped by all the alarms surrounding it.

I’m sure Jake will give her many children to fill up the White House. He’ll make Setta the happiest woman alive, won’t you, dear? Mrs. Moreno asked, pinching Jake’s chin. He barely suppressed his flinch.

It wasn’t the first mention of kids, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. In the months leading up to the election, the Morenos had a way of slipping the topic of grandchildren into every interview they granted. Family was important to them. Too bad it wasn’t important to Jake.

"He already has made me happy, moder," Setta interrupted, eyes flashing.

Her father patted her cheek. It was a beautiful ceremony. Attend to your guests. We’ll catch up later.

She pressed a meaningful look into her father’s face before her parents moved down the line to greet the onslaught.

A slap stung Jake’s back through the haze of bulb flashes. Congratulations, you two. With a barely noticeable limp, Buddy wriggled between Jake and Setta, draping his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Setta tensed and diverted her attention to a reporter asking her to pose for a picture for the Times.

It’s too bad you won’t get to spend your first night as a married couple at the new digs on Pennsylvania Avenue, eh?

Yeah, a damn shame we have to wait till January, Jake said between fake smiles for the cameras spanning the never-ending receiving line. Christ.

Buddy glanced around at the paparazzi and grunted. When I’m the head of the Secret Service, I’ll keep this kind of bullshit to a minimum.

I have no doubt. Just a few more months. Jake clapped his friend’s hand above their heads.

As she turned away from the photographer, Setta caught and held Buddy’s gaze a second longer than was customary. He gave her a terse smile before he untangled himself and limped off to speak with an unaccompanied gorgeous blond.

What was that about? Jake cocked his head to the side. Leaning down to her ear, he taunted, Methinks the lady is trolling for a Buddy sandwich. He was joking but intuitive enough to know he might actually be right. He’d seen women give Buddy that look before. He didn’t like it on her.

Shut up. She straightened beside him as she greeted the next batch of guests, some dignitaries from the United Kingdom that her parents probably knew.

Lovely wedding, Setta, the old chap said.

Yes, his wife interjected. We were beginning to wonder if the White House would be accommodating its first-ever live-in bachelor. So glad you came to your senses, Mr. President.

Jake bit his tongue behind a terse smile. I’m not the president yet, but thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful wife. He strummed one of Setta’s long black waves of hair and curled its end around a finger. God, how he loved making her uncomfortable.

Poetic justice.

Let’s not forget intelligent, the woman scolded. Still waters run deep, do they not?

Indeed, Jake agreed, lifting a brow.

Setta blushed. Funny how she could do that on command. For all her professionalism and distance in private, she really was a great actress in public. Which would make living with her even more unbearable. Resting bitch face at home; supermodel charm in the spotlight.

Four years. Just four years.

Eight, max.

He slid an arm around her waist and clutched her to his side, meeting restrained resistance. Smartest woman I know, Jake declared.

You flatter me, Setta replied with a coy swat to his chest.

There’s the man. A guy wearing a dark gray tux with a red cummerbund interrupted the sycophantic barf-fest, nudging the Brits on their jolly way. Ah, Christ. One of the names on the shit list he hadn’t gotten to yet. Congressman Jonas Jenkins. He’d only met the guy a couple times in person, but Jake knew Jenkins’s work well. Something about this guy threw his hackles up every time they’d breathed the same air. Jake’s wedding day was no exception.

Thanks for coming, Jake said, clasping Jenkins’s sweaty hand and patting his elbow. He casually wiped off the thin, wet film left behind as the guy withdrew.

Jonas Jenkins, he said to Setta. He took her hand and kissed it, floating a lascivious glance at her breasts. What a fucking scumbag. Jake’s fist curled. "I’m a congressman from Chicago. Got a lot of things to hammer out with this guy in the coming session. Get it? Hammer out?" He chuckled at his stupid pun.

Laughing gently, Setta was all grace despite the twitch in her cheek. She must not like the guy, either. Jake would have loved to deck him for visually groping his wife, but here in front of hundreds wedding attendees—many of them members of the press—wasn’t the time or place.

But seriously, Jenkins continued, we’re gonna have to do something soon to loosen up these gun laws.

Jake frowned. It was no secret the gun manufacturers and their lobbies courted Jenkins. He opposed background checks for weapons buyers, he favored the sale of fully automatic assault weapons to non-military citizens, and he claimed that keeping guns out of the hands of those on the No Fly List was an affront to every American’s God-given Second Amendment right. A real take-it-to-the-streets kinda asshole.

Jake had no problem with guns. He had plenty of problems with nihilists whose only method of getting off was shooting up entire cities for shits and gungasms. Not only was Jenkins one such wack job, he was also rumored to have conducted dealings with a pair of Irajian brothers who murdered countless innocents, many of them children, in their quest to arm entire nations. But the proof of such activities had yet to be uncovered.

Soon.

"Your state has a weapons problem, Mr. Jenkins. Your hometown in particular. As president, I’ll execute laws that are in all people’s best interest. Putting more guns in the hands of criminals is a recipe for disaster."

The smug smile left Jenkins’s face, and a shadow settled in its place. The press was right about you. If you had your way, you’d abolish the Second Amendment.

If Jake had his way, there wouldn’t be a need for it, but for now, he was thrilled to have unfettered access to a plethora of weapons. It made his other job a hell of a lot easier.

The Second Amendment isn’t going anywhere on my watch, Jake deflected.

Can I quote you on that?

Absolutely.

"I look forward to working with you, Senator," Jenkins said.

"You as well, Congressman."

There’ll be plenty of time to reach across the aisle and talk shop in January, Mr. Jenkins, Setta piped in. I hope you’ll join our reception shortly.

Jenkins glanced to Jake with a furtive glint in his beady little eye. Wouldn’t miss it.

As the shifty bastard floated away on a cloud of sulfur to pollute someone else’s air, Jake and Setta exchanged cautious looks.

Rude much? she said under her breath.

He’s pissed because I helped block a bill he proposed a year ago to abolish background checks.

Setta shrugged. All this talk of politics bores me. It’s not appropriate for a wedding.

I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, he agreed.

The receiving line seemed to go on forever. Politicians galore, friends, family, members of the press—everyone had to stop and get a handshake with the president-elect.

Mr. President, they called him.

President Hammer.

When one of the Supreme Court justices addressed him as Commander in Chief, reality hit him with both barrels. Winning the election had been one thing, but coming face-to-face with accepting the mantle as the leader of the free world would soon be upon him.

Millions of citizens entrusted their lives to him at the polls a few weeks ago. Sure, he’d saved his share of people in his other life, but