Gods of Ruin: A Political Thriller

By JSB Morse

The gods will fall when the people rise.

Com DeGroot is an outsider politician who tells it like it is. But as he makes his way up the power structure of the U.S. Senate, he is forced to choose between his promising career and the promise h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Code Publishing
• Release date: Jul 4, 2010
• ISBN: 9781600200809

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Gods

of

Ruin

J.S.B. MORSE

COPYLEFT 2022

Gods of Ruin: A Political Thriller

www.GodsOfRuin.com

This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2010 by Joseph Morse

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by New Classic Books, an imprint of Code Publishing.

For distribution opportunities, please contact [e-mail].

ISBN 1-60020-048-6

978 1-60020-048-9

First Edition

For lovers of liberty everywhere,

may the muse live on.

"The God who gave us life gave us liberty at the same time;

the hand of force may destroy, but cannot disjoin them."

- Thomas Jefferson

"When men yield up the privilege of thinking,

the last shadow of liberty quits the horizon."

- Thomas Paine

Gods

of

Ruin

PART 1:

THE RIOT ACT

One

Rum or whiskey? Com DeGroot asked himself as he let his eyes drift over a brochure. The well-dressed, lanky man sat slouched in a chocolate brown leather sofa in the dimly lit, air-conditioned living room of the Séjour Luxueux Grand Suite, ignoring the din of the television in front of him as well as the party in the adjacent room. His focus was on the small advertisement in his hand, which declared: Starting your own microdistillery is easy! Com DeGroot believed it. If the slaphappy drunken fools in the brochure could do it, surely he could, too. Money wasn’t an issue—he still had plenty of that. Plus, as the brochure stated, the whole process was easy. The only thing Com had to decide was what liquor he would produce at his very own microdistillery. Rum or whiskey? he softly asked himself again.

Com let a smile creep over his stylishly gaunt face at the newfound dream of running a distillery. He would invent clever mixed drinks, meet new people every day, and help them get drunk. There would be no stress and no one telling him what to do. And there would be no chance for failure either, not like with the two previous life goals he had set for himself. It would be the perfect existence. At the very least, he could join his customers in getting inebriated for the rest of his life. Com knew he couldn’t fail at that.

Let’s talk about former professional basketball star, Com DeGroot, the glamorous television commentator Michelle Torres said, reminding Com of his first major life failure. Com winced. The mention of his previous occupation brought more agony to the solitary viewer. Yes, he had played in the pros, but only for two seasons and only until an untimely rendezvous between his right knee and a sturdy power forward had ended his career. It was certainly not the career the player had envisioned when he had entered the league.

Com did have good memories from his stint as a professional basketball player though, including the two-week period he had led the league in scoring and the game in which he had nailed a buzzer-beater to finish a thrilling comeback victory and put his team in playoff contention. And even after the career-ending injury, his team had fulfilled Com’s contract and filled his bank account, allowing him comfortable financial security for the rest of his life. But Com had gone from the best in the league to the best that could have been in a matter of seconds with his injury, and the taste of failure was impossible for Com to get past mentally.

Undaunted by Mr. DeGroot’s self-deprecation, Michelle Torres continued her report on the room’s fifty-two-inch illuminated glass panel. She was quickly able to remind Com of his second major failure and the reason why he was slouching comfortably in the Séjour Luxueux hotel that night, considering a career in intoxication. Early exit polls show that incumbent Phil Dyer of Delaware will beat out challenger Com DeGroot and remain in his seat for another six years. Com was a candidate for U.S. Senator, and he was not going to win the election that night.

The candidate DeGroot briefly thought about his campaign but shuddered. He had it in the bag just weeks earlier, they had all said, but he blew it in the run-up to the election. All of his campaign promises to shake up the system and make a difference sounded pathetic, corny, and naïve to Com as he sat there in disillusionment.

Com nodded to himself and whispered, Rum.

Michelle Torres persisted. The popular DeGroot had a sizeable lead in his race, running on the platform of ‘Security First,’ until the challenger’s infamous meltdown at a town hall debate last month. With that, an all-too-familiar video clip began to play on the wide screen in front of Com. It depicted a meek-looking man from the town hall audience posing a question: "Okay, a lot of us have not recovered from the economic depression over ten years ago. I personally have been out of work for over three years and I have a partner and a child to take care of—um, not to mention my, uh, disrepaired back that keeps me from doing any manual occupation. I can’t even, um, sit at a desk without being uncomfortable and I’m like on a two-year waiting list to see an orthopedic surgeon because you people in Washington won’t properly fund the National Health Services! As senator, as it were, what are you going to do to help me and people like me get a job so I can get better health—"

You know what? An impatient Com DeGroot cut off the questioner in the video. Just shut up. I’ve heard your type whine and whine ever since I entered this race, and I’m sick of it. There was a nervous murmur from the audience in the video. The questioner’s eyes bulged out and Com continued. No, look, it’s not the role of government to take care of you like a little helpless baby. The role of government is to protect you from the evil people who want to kill you, period. No. I’m not going to lie to you like this guy over here. Com waved his arm toward his debate opponent. "I’m not going to tell you that I will fix your back and get you a job and better health care and then cut everyone’s taxes at the same time. No, I’m going to actually tell you the truth. It can’t be done. And it shouldn’t. You need to stand up for yourself because our civilization cannot last if people like you continue to mooch off the rest of us. Whatever happened to John F. Kennedy’s plea to ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country?’ I’m sick of it. This country is full of worthless moochers now, including you, sir. Take, take, take. That’s all you do and you don’t care who you’re taking it from. How about you take something else for a change? How about you take some responsibility for yourself?"

Com looked away but the questioner became excited. How dare you— The crowd exploded in disbelief.

You won’t just go away, huh? You’re like a one-hundred-and-fifty-pound wad of chewing gum that someone left on the sidewalk and I just stepped in. Just shut up. Next.

Michelle Torres returned to the screen. That was followed up with another outburst two weeks later. Com was shown again on the screen, this time at a press conference responding to another question. I don’t even know if I want to be Senator if idiots like you are going to be my constituents. Look, we need surveillance, ID cards, the works. If people aren’t doing anything wrong, they shouldn’t mind a little Big Brother watching over them.

Reclining in the plush sofa, Com covered his face with his hands to avoid watching the train wreck he had created. He dug his fingers into his tightly-cropped hair and scalp. Michelle Torres explained how those remarks had led to a sharp fall in the polls in the week preceding the election, then she turned to a political analyst in the studio. Well, Sam, the only things that have been consistent in the DeGroot campaign are his unpredictable sound bites, and the early exit poll numbers show that they didn’t help his cause. At this point, he’s down by two points and it appears that Mr. DeGroot will not unseat incumbent Phil Dyer. In your opinion, does he have a chance?

Michelle, it really doesn’t look like it, the scrawny voice emanated from the overweight analyst’s face. It’s still too close to call, but he’s lost so much momentum recently—he’s really a loose cannon and I don’t think the voters of Delaware, much less the population as a whole, are willing to put up with antics like his. It looks like the voters have finally come to their senses.

Thank you, Sam. In other election news, Michelle Torres announced, popular civil rights champion, Senator Duane D. Delano of Vermont, has won reelection easily. It looks like he can now get started on his self-proclaimed primary goal of taking down the failed charter city in Texas.

Sam added, "That’s right, Michelle. It looks like the next stop on that Delano civil rights train is Ur, Texas, a shocking place where corporations dictate human rights."

Com slowly arched his neck back, as though to mentally block out the news on the screen, and let out a growl.

It can’t be all that bad. The soft voice came from a silhouette in the doorway between the living room and the boisterous party next door. Com jerked his head toward the voice and frowned. Com’s visitor meandered toward the sofa and came into the light. It was Noni Alvarez, a twenty-three-year-old campaign staffer. Her brunette hair was perfectly curled, her skin was a flawless hazelnut complexion, and she owned a pair of light green eyes. But Com looked at the television monitor instead of at his alluring staffer. She sat down in a comfortable pose and draped her arm around Com’s neck. Noni’s voice was compassionate and serious. Is it?

Com looked at Noni, then returned to the brochure in his hand. I’m going to start a micro-distillery.

Noni’s eyes widened, as she had thought he wanted to be a legislator.

What do you think? Rum?

Noni puckered her lips and shrugged. I don’t know. Are you thirsty? Do you want me to fix you a drink?

Not yet. But I’m going to need a stiff one after they call the race.

Noni looked at her boss longingly.

I’m such a numb nut! He shook his head. Anyone could have just kept their mouth shut and told them what they wanted to hear . . . I look like a fucking ass clown in those clips! He spewed out.

The intern scrunched her face and reached for Com’s head as if to embrace or do something more. It’s okay. You’re still a great man. She moistened her already glistening lips. Even if not enough voters realize that. It wasn’t poetry, but Com appreciated Noni’s sentiment. He could smell her sweet citrus perfume as she inched near him, but he concentrated on the television screen. Com’s eyes dropped to Noni’s heaving breast momentarily and then back to the news. Noni dropped her hand as she turned toward the television as well.

Whoa, is this the champagne room in here? Kevin Donovan yelled, announcing his presence.

Shut the hell up, Kevin, Com responded dryly, implying that nothing inappropriate was going on.

Undeterred, Kevin walked over to Com’s right side, opposite Noni, and patted the candidate on the shoulder. Even when they were sitting down, Kevin was noticeably shorter than Com, a characteristic Kevin made up for—in his mind—with extremely expensive clothes and a nice watch. Kevin was Com’s campaign director, and he was energetic despite the gloomy mood in the suite’s living room. Kevin unnecessarily pushed back his perfectly combed auburn hair and glanced at the television.

Down two, Kevin, Com said as if to blame his campaign director.

Look, Kevin assured Com, it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings, right?

I lost, what, fifteen points to that bastard in the last two weeks? Fifteen points! I’m toast. My goose is cooked. No, my goose has been lit up with a fucking blowtorch and stamped out with an anvil. My goose is obliterated, was Com’s reply.

Well, we’ll see, Kevin huffed, letting Com’s mood affect him, then pointed to the television.

Com turned to him, Don’t you have some director duties to take care of or something?

Campaign’s over, Com. I’m off until we’re in Washington and I’m staffing a lot of slutty interns. Kevin realized his company, No offense, Noni.

Noni blew the comment off. Shut up, spuds.

Potatoes, Com thought to himself. Maybe I should make vodka. Potato vodka.

Kevin scrunched his face and looked at Com with bewilderment, then shook off his confusion. Oh yeah, Senator Thurston called about ten minutes ago to congratulate you.

For what?

I don’t know, a good campaign, I guess.

Oh, yippity-freekin-doo-dah, Com said dejectedly. I’m going to Disney World. I suck.

The three sat in a bearably uncomfortable silence for a half a minute until Michelle Torres returned to the screen.

Okay, she said, pressing her finger to an invisible earpiece. We’re getting word—yes, we are going to call the Delaware senate race. The campaign party next door hushed. Com allowed a bit of adrenaline to run through his veins, perking him up. And it’s Senator Dyer. Michelle Torres paused briefly as the three viewers sunk into the couch. Com had known it was going to happen, but the shock of defeat still hit him like a brick. "Losing, Michelle Torres continued. That’s right, Mr. DeGroot, former basketball star, will take the state of Delaware for the Republicans in the Senate. In what appears to be the surprise upset of the evening after early exit polls indicated a convincing win for Dyer . . . ."

The crowd next door erupted, and Kevin Donovan jumped up from the couch and began beating his chest like Tarzan and screaming like a wild banshee. Noni grinned knowingly and squinted at Com as he sat upright on the sofa. His eyes were bulging and he looked around the room in shock. The candidate-turned-senator-elect gathered his bearings, then put the micro-distillery brochure into his jacket’s breast pocket as a smile crept over his face. I knew it, he thought to himself.

On the television, Michelle Torres turned to the political analyst. What do you think about that, Sam?

I definitely thought he could hold on to the slight lead that he took into the polls, the analyst pronounced. He really had it all along.

Noni gleamed at Com. She stood and extended her hand as if to escort her boss. Mr. Senator, I believe you have an acceptance speech to give.

Two

Com DeGroot stepped into the elevator with Kevin Donovan and took a deep breath. Kevin sorted through files on his tablet computer while Com looked up at the ceiling.

Don’t need our concession speech, Kevin said in a celebratory tone and swiped the tablet monitor, getting rid of the document. Here we go. This is a copy of your speech. Kevin handed the computer to Com. It’s pretty much the same stump speech you made every day of the campaign, but a little more meaningful, since you’re going to actually be making good on these promises now.

Com looked at the speech then drew his eyes upward. Oh my God, he said. I’m going to be Senator.

Kevin turned to him with a stern look and an index finger pointed upward. No . . . you are going to be fucking Senator of the United States of America!

Com laughed.

You da man! Kevin yelled.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened to an empty service hallway in the bowels of the hotel. Kevin started walking toward the stage door one hundred yards from the elevator as Com reviewed his speech.

You might want to mention the Internet security bill, too. That’s a hot topic today, Kevin noted.

Oh, yeah? What’s that about? Com wondered as he continued to peruse his speech.

We want to link up every electronic device, every mobile, to a secure federal network so that we can track terrorists and other criminal punk asses.

Right, control the whole thing so we can smoke ’em out where those bastards are festering, Com added.

You got it, Com! Kevin stopped walking and turned to his boss. Crowd noise from the victory banquet echoed through the service hall. Look, the voters have spoken and they have chosen you. They are calling on you to start making things happen. Now it’s time to get some work done.

Com smiled and handed back the tablet computer. Let’s go to work, then, Com said before jumping up the stairs leading to the back stage.

* * *

Politicians lie? Com asked sarcastically adding fuel to the fire of excitement he had created in the crowd of supporters gathered in the victory banquet hall. The large, boisterous crowd seemed to be familiar with the question from the campaign because they all joined him in his enthusiastic response as he shook his head. Not this guy! A group of happy donors and campaign staffers congregated around the senator-elect on the stage, all laughing and clapping. When I make a promise, I keep it.

Com had worked the crowd into a frenzy with his short acceptance speech and was wrapping it up in front of a crowd that wanted more. Each rowdy supporter in attendance in the packed hall was hanging on his every word. The stage lights shone down on the senator-elect, bringing back memories of the spotlight he had owned while playing professional basketball. Throughout his speech, Com was confident, irreverent, and he exuded authority. It was as if Com DeGroot was born for this moment—he was a star once again.

"And so, when I say that I promise all of you helping me celebrate and every American out there watching, that I will fight to restore a government that is of the people, by the people, and for the people—a government that our Founding Fathers would be proud of instead of this ever-increasing nanny state that we have now. I will fight to restore a government that is truthful and transparent to its constituents, and one that follows the law of the land—that hallowed document we call the Constitution.

To do that, I have to make one more promise. I promise that I will make this country more secure by the end of my first term in Congress. I am going to hunt down every terrorist out there until they’re wiped off the face of the planet. And they won’t be able to hide in the virtual world anymore either. I’m going after them on the Internet and on their mobile devices. We’re going to create a network of communication that is safe and secure, not one that terrorists can manipulate in order to intimidate and bully the American public. This will not stand, my word is my bond. I’m going to make 2023 the year we secure this great country again.

Com looked out to the crowd. He quickly surveyed his audience and spotted some familiar faces. He recognized some young campaign volunteers. He noticed a mildly famous actor who had been supportive throughout the campaign and an old basketball teammate. After a brief hesitation, Com returned to the teleprompter to remind him where he was in his speech.

The people elected me for a reason, to protect them, and I intend to make good on that. Now this campaign sure puts on a good party. Com surveyed the banquet hall. But I have a suggestion. Let’s take this party to Washington! Com thrust his hand in the air and waited for an outburst of applause to die down. Thank you! Thank you! God bless you all. He pumped his fist and then waved at the crowd as they erupted in cheer. Confetti amidst red, white, and blue balloons suddenly dropped from the ceiling while We Are the Champions played on a surround-sound system.

The senator-elect turned to find the stage exit when Kevin Donovan walked up behind him and slapped him on the back. Com, I need you to shake some hands.

Great, somebody else want to bow down to the next senator from the great state of Delaware? Com said jokingly.

Maybe not bow down, Kevin corrected.

Com looked at his chief and nodded, then Kevin directed the senator-elect to a group of major campaign donors. Mr. Donovan introduced an elderly lady, then a tall older man to Com. The shorter staffer then motioned to a man standing nearby and yelled over the noise into Com’s ear. You remember this guy, Hank ‘fat wallet’ Pierpont?

Mr. Pierpont was a broad-shouldered man with a loud plaid sports jacket and a red tie. He was jovial, rotund, and had a cocktail in his hand.

Hank! Com yelled and reached for the donor’s hand.

You lucky son of a bitch, you pulled it out! Hank gave a burly chuckle. Congratulations.

What are you talking about? I knew I had it all along. I was never going to let down my most important donor. Com flattered the man through a grin and continued the handshake, which Mr. Pierpont did not seem to want to let go.

Hank leaned into the senator-elect but still had to yell over the crowd noise and music. Hey listen, I’m really glad to support you and be a part of this campaign. I want to continue to help, too, but, you know, there are obstacles in my way to being the most productive I can be; some regulatory obstacles, if you know what I mean. Pierpont leaned back a little to view Com’s response.

Hey, Com said with an earnest look, I work for you. You just let me know what I can do, and I’ll make it happen.

That’s my boy, Mr. Pierpont said and released the grip to slap Com on his shoulder. Oh, the donor said, remembering his companion on the stage, you know this guy, right? Hank Pierpont shifted to his right to introduce a young, scrawny man. This is Justin Timeus. He’s the brains behind our online analytics products that basically made your campaign.

Justin was a straight-faced man in his early twenties and unfazed though his casual garb stood out from the surrounding cocktail attire. He looked at Com then looked down as he presented his hand. Congratulations, Senator Com DeGroot.

Yeah, I know this freakin’ genius. We go way back. Com said and shook the young man’s hand. How’s it going, Justin? You develop any killer apps to beat the stock market yet? Com chuckled at the rhetorical question.

It’s going okay, Justin said in his usual drawn out, robotic manner. Today I asked my immediate supervisor if I could leave work because I wasn’t doing anything of consequence at the office and he replied by saying that he needed me in the office even if I wasn’t doing anything and that I should just go make copies of my ass in the copy room. He asked if my wanting to leave had anything to do with the coworker in a cubicle next to me who tends to smell of beef and cheese and I said that it wasn’t because of him, though Barb, who is next to him, makes a lot of gratuitous office noises like stapling and closing of binders—

Com laughed. Wow, that’s a lot more information than I was expecting. Hank had put his hands on Justin’s shoulders and coughed to indicate that the young man was being inappropriate.

Oh, Justin said. Okay. But you were wrong, Senator Com DeGroot, when you said that I predicted your election correctly. Yours was one of two senate races that my application did not accurately predict. It was off by point zero-three-two percent.

Well, after an election like this tonight, I think that’s good enough! Kevin said and looked around the stage to introduce Com to another, more socially acceptable group of people.

Yeah, pretty damn close if you ask me, Com agreed.

Yes, but I predicted a loss for you, not a win. And the other election predictions were a lot closer than yours. The analysis from the web bot attributes the discrepancy to a clandestine operation and perhaps voter fraud. Justin mentioned the significant assertion in his droll, robotic manner as if he were describing the weather.

Hank laughed, Okay, Justin. That’s enough. Thanks for your thoughts. He tried to move Justin away from the senator-elect, but Com, interested in what Justin was saying, stuck out his hand.

Wait. Are you saying, Com thought about his words, that my election was a bit . . . shady?

The evidence points to covert—perhaps fraudulent—behavior, yes. I believe that the word ‘shady’ is a suitable synonym, Justin stated.

Com’s face became solemn. He looked at Hank and then at Kevin. They were all quiet, and then suddenly all three burst out laughing. Hank looked relieved that the senator-elect didn’t blame him for his employee’s inappropriate comment. Justin became morose and sought an escape from the conversation by looking at the floor.

Oh, that’s a good one, mister, Kevin said between chuckles.

Com let out a boisterous laugh then looked at Kevin. Can you imagine the type of jackass that would want me in the Senate that bad? No offense, Hank.

Yeah, here’s the most unconnected person in Washington, Kevin said, Let’s get him in there and then he can steal Capitol paper clips for us.

Thanks for your concern, Justin. Com patted Justin on the shoulder. Now if you’ll excuse me. Com stretched his neck toward the stage exit.

Three

Com DeGroot walked toward the stage exit with Kevin Donovan following and looking for important people to engage in conversation. Com looked out into the boisterous crowd and smiled. He gazed at the large banners that depicted his friendly, forward-looking visage. Below one of the banners, some fifty feet away from the stage, was a young woman who, to the senator-elect, stood out from the other attractive, well-dressed supporters. She wore a pleasant smile and, though she wasn’t close, Com could tell that she was looking directly at him.

You da man! A young staffer yelled in Com’s direction and raised his hand for a high-five.

Com looked at the man and grinned. Yes, I am.

You’re going to change the world, the staffer said. It was a pleasure to help you along the way, sir.

Com nodded then returned his eyes to the young woman. He recognized her but could not place from where. Was it Jessica? He thought randomly. No. Marie? That girl after the Lakers game? No. He couldn’t quite remember who she was but continued to think about it as he walked toward the stairs at the end of the stage.

Where are you going, Com? Kevin screeched, turning the heads of some nearby celebrators.

Com placed his hand on Kevin’s shoulder to put him at ease as well as to prevent Kevin from following him. Uh, I see someone I know. I need to go say hi. The senator-elect walked down the stairs into the excited crowd.

Com, the after-party. We have an after-party to attend.

Com got to the stairs and was confronted with a stocky security guard dressed in a black suit and accompanying sunglasses. The thick man shook his head at Com while putting his hand out to prevent Com from advancing. Sir, we need you to go back onto the stage. The exit is behind the stage.

Com continued undaunted and maneuvered past the security guard, who quickly surveyed the immediate vicinity then apprehensively began to follow Com through the crowd. The senator-elect was instantly greeted with cheers and he began shaking hands and bobbing his head to admiring guests. Thanks for coming out. Thank you, he said.

I love you, man! a young man yelled as he opened his arms for a hug. Com patted the young man on the shoulder. You’re going to change everything. Finally a politician we can believe in! said the young man as he grasped Com’s torso, which was the extent of the height the young man could reach on the tall senator-elect.

Thanks a lot, thank you, Com said, easing the supporter away from him. The security guard helped to gently pry the young man away from Com and trailed the senator-elect toward the back of the room. Excited partiers continued to greet Com as he walked slowly through the crowd. A young woman suddenly jumped on Com and confessed her undying love for the athlete-turned-politician. He thanked her and let her down easily.

Near the back of the hall, the crowd had thinned out and the remaining guests were not paying attention to the celebrity in their midst. There was an opening near the column that Com had his eye on during the speech. It was the right column, but no young lady awaited him there. She was gone. Com looked frustrated and jerked his head around before turning back to the stage. The security guard continued to survey the area and placed his index finger in his ear in order to communicate the senator-elect’s position to the security dispatch. Com looked back to the stage and saw an exasperated Kevin staring at him with his arms in the air.

Congratulations, Commodore. The crystalline voice floated over the noise of the crowd from behind Com, who peered into the air and searched his memory. Commodore was Com’s full given name but he hadn’t used it since he was a child. Since then, Com had told just one person what his real name was.

Cate Heatherton, he said and turned around to a beaming relic from his past.

She was wearing a sophisticated, stylish sleeveless navy blue dress with a colorful silk fabric wrapped around her waist in place of a belt. One leg pointed toward Com and a slender arm folded up allowed her index finger to rest thoughtfully on her chin. Cate’s naked shoulders led to a thin but elegant neck and a soft jaw line complemented by a fair complexion. Her eyes were wide and painted a subtle shimmering light blue, and they were fixed intently on the taller senator-elect.

Com allowed a wide grin to creep over his face. My God. What a surprise.

Well, I was in the neighborhood. I had a case in D.C., and I couldn’t miss this . . . Mr. Senator! She stressed the last word. I guess you’re the man!

Well, Com said with a smile, that’s what they’re saying. I really think I got lucky. Can you believe all this? He waved his hand to the crowd and the stage.

Cate nodded and smiled. Yes, I can. I always knew you would be a big shot someday.

Com laughed out loud. What can I say? I had a great staff. So, I really can’t believe you’re here. How long has it been? he asked, searching for the answer in Cate’s eyes.

Too long.

Com shook his head subtly. You look amazing. I take it you’re still playing tennis?

Yeah, I’ve tried to keep it up.

So, where have you been all these years? Com asked and glanced down for a ring on Cate’s hand but found only a bejeweled representation of a flower on her right index finger.

Well, she said, trying to recount the previous eight years, I made it into Harvard Law, finished up there, and I’ve been working for a really great firm in D.C. The people are fabulous and we’re doing some really great work.

No help from daddy through all this? Com grinned.

Cate shook her head in a proud denial. Nope. No help from daddy.

Com paused for a moment while looking at Cate, then spoke, You were right about him, you know?

Cate squinted her eyes at Com’s question, then smiled, Yeah, I know.

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence between the two for a moment, which Com broke by changing the subject, So you made it, huh? A lawyer? Com looked impressed, then disappointed. You’re not here on business are you? I’m not going to get served, am I?

Cate tilted her head down and smiled at Com’s subtle joke. No. You’re not getting sued. But as a matter of fact, the firm did ask me to come here and speak with you. I was hoping we could meet at some point in the next few days and discuss—

The next few days? Nonsense, what are you doing right now?

Cate looked surprised. Uh, I’m free the rest of the evening, I think.

You’re going to join me at my celebration party. We can discuss whatever you’d like up there. Com looked around for his security guard. The vigilant guard was standing next to the couple busily scanning the surroundings in all directions.

Look, what’s your name?

The stocky security guard answered, Reggie Williams, sir.

What’s your background—training?

Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment through 2018, sir. I was Afghanistan, mainly, Reggie reported succinctly.

Ranger, huh? Good man! Com DeGroot exclaimed as he hit Reggie on the shoulder. Com’s father was a drill sergeant in the Army and while that relationship had fueled a sense of antiauthoritarianism in the young DeGroot, his exposure to the military helped him develop an appreciation for the servicemen and women and the security they provided. You know any martial arts—defense techniques?

I’m a second-degree black belt in Jiu-Jitsu and a Dim Mak master.

Wow, that is impressive. I don’t know what you just said, but it sounds like you know your stuff. I have a request, Reggie Williams. Can you make absolutely sure this lovely woman makes it up to room five fifty-five?

The security guard shook his head, "No can do, sir. I have to stick