“YOUR DEAL, KID.” Patrick drummed his fingers on the table when Aidan hesitated. “Come on, get with the program.”
Dragging himself from the thoughts that haunted him since last night at nine when his father had crumpled to the ground before his eyes, Aidan picked up the cards and began to shuffle. The swish of the deck seemed loud in the quiet room.
They’d all tried sitting around, had dozed some, but once the four-hour operation began at eight a.m., none of the O’Neil brothers could sit still. Dylan had suggested playing euchre. Aidan glanced over to see Bailey was asleep again. Pregnancies tired her out. Agent Ludzecky was also catching some winks. Mitch Calloway was standing near the table watching them play and periodically scanning the room. Bailey’s two watchdogs had been taking turns getting some rest. He wondered what kind of life they led; from what he’d heard about the profession, he was glad it wasn’t his, or anybody he was involved with.
One card, two cards, three, four, five. Lucky him, he turned over a jack of spades. Paddy passed. Dylan said, “Pick it up. I’ll take it alone.” That meant Dyl had a great hand if he didn’t need the right bower and could kick his partner out of play in order to earn four points instead of two.
Aidan watched as Dylan demolished his brothers. Listened to Patrick swear. Liam mumble. Dylan gloat.
Over all of it, he heard the chief of cardiology’s words. Pa had fallen back asleep after Aidan got out an apology and a kiss on the forehead. Just as he and Liam exited the room, they’d seen Dr. Hargrove at the nurse’s station and Liam had pounced. His brother loved facts. He’d been an information junkie when his kids were born, had learned everything there was to know about Kitty’s ovarian cancer and had studied up on the Secret Service when Bailey had become the Second Lady.
Liam approached the doctor in his typical low-key manner, something Aidan couldn’t muster if you’d bribed him with a date with Julianne Moore. “Dr. Crane. I was wondering if you could tell us the procedure for the operation.”
Everyone was quick to oblige the vice president’s family. Aidan had stood by, listening to the detached way the doctor described the invasion of his father’s body...the prep involved sedatives, muscle relaxants, anticoagulants and pain coeds, IVs to the neck vein and bladder. Then they’d put tubes down his throat: one into the windpipe for the respirator, one in the stomach to collect fluids. The most gruesome part was the cutting of the sternum—Aidan had flinched when he’d heard the sound of the saw on a medical TV show. Then they’d cool the heart—how did they do that?—clamp the aorta, making holes in it. Simultaneously, another team would be working on removing two veins from Pa’s leg to bypass the blocked spot, to detour the blood. He guessed he’d known open-heart surgery didn’t correct the heart disease, but circumvented it. A lot like Aidan lived his life, by detouring around problems.
“Four points, bro.” Dylan was trying to look at ease, but he kept glancing to the door and shifting his seat.
Patrick stood. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m goin’ for a walk.”
Of all of them, Patrick had the most volatile relationship with their pa. It had something to do with the one time Pa strayed when their parents were separated, and the daughter he’d had with another woman. Pa didn’t know about Moira until her mother died, and she’d come to live with them when she was fourteen. Moira and Bailey had gotten close, which was why his sister eventually got into fighting street gangs, as Moira had been a member of the GGs, the toughest New York girl gang. Patrick never forgave their father for what he considered Pa’s infidelity. Aidan had been too young to know the ins and outs of it, and had just been glad when Pa came back.
Aidan looked over at his mother, who was sturdily built, with graying hair that had once been a deep auburn. Aidan had never admired her more than when she’d taken Moira in and treated her like family—and insisted the children do the same—for the short time Moira lived with them before she was killed in prison.
Aidan sensed someone come up behind him by a movement of the air, a faint female scent.
Calloway eased away from the wall and glanced at his watch. “You only slept an hour, C.J.”
“It’s enough for now.”
“Suit yourself.” Mitch crossed to the couch to stand behind it.
“She’s out,” C.J. said to no one in particular.
“Wish I was.” There were grooves around Dylan’s mouth and eyes. “I’m whipped. I was up the whole night before the attack covering a story.”
C.J. didn’t ask what else Dylan did for a living so Aidan said, “We all work at the pub, and three of us have part-time jobs. Dylan does a column for a weekly newsmagazine called CitySights.”
She didn’t ask for elaboration.
“Liam’s a short-order cook for breakfasts at a diner nearby.” He also cooked for the pub at lunch, got dinners ready, then went home to be with his kids for the evening.
The agent remained stone-faced, so Aidan didn’t tell her what he did, and she didn’t ask. It irked him for some reason. He liked women who were interested in him. Most women probed and prodded to keep his attention. Shit, she wasn’t a woman, she was a robot. Again, the notion made him pissed off. A little human kindness was called for here. So he faced her with an attitude. “You could show some interest in our lives, Agent Ludzecky.”
Mitch glanced over sharply. His brothers stared at him in shock. Why not? Bailey had dubbed him The Peacemaker of the family because he charmed the pants off everybody. Now he was acting like a first-class jerk.
She wasn’t fazed, though. She said simply, “Unless it relates to guarding the vice president’s wife, nothing about any of you is relevant.”
That made him even madder. He threw back his chair and stood. Somewhere, he knew he wasn’t angry at Agent Ludzecky, but at himself, and his father for ignoring warning signs. Hell, he was mad about life in general. Knowing that didn’t stop him from going on the attack. “That family you mentioned earlier? Are they relevant?”
It was just a flicker. In those eyes that sparkled like good brandy. Then it was gone. Without a word, she turned and walked back to the couch. Positioning herself where she could see her charge, she folded her arms over her chest and looked straight ahead.
His brothers dispersed, and Aidan went back to his post by the window.
After a brief time, Agent Calloway came up to him. “Do me a favor.” This didn’t sound like a request. “Don’t make a personal attack on one of my agents again.”
Aidan was about to apologize when the surgeon entered the waiting room.
o0o
“WE HAVE a plan.” Bailey’s eyes were dancing with pleasure. And something else. Mischief. C.J. had seen that look before and it usually spelled more work for the service. The Second Lady’s schemes often created a logistics nightmare. Like the time she decided to have a kids’ Halloween party at the vice presidential residence on Observatory Way. She’d dressed up as a witch and insisted the vice president come as Frankenstein. She would have had the agents in ghost and goblin garb if she’d had her way. Thankfully, the Secret Service director had put his foot down. Though the whole thing had been fun to watch, the agents had scurried around all night, checking out parents, who were also in costume, coming and going.
“I don’t think I want to hear this.” Patrick, the oldest brother, leaned against the wall of the private room where his father had been transferred four days ago. Looking stern, he said, “Your plans spell trouble, lass.”
C.J. glanced at Mitch. He shrugged, but she could tell he knew something about this, which was why she and Mitch were in the room for this family discussion.
The patient, who among themselves the service had begun calling Pa O’Neil to keep him and his son straight, shook his head. His color was better and his blue eyes alert. “What is it, girl?”
“I think we should all go to Clay’s and my cottage on Keuka Lake for your recuperation. Or at least part of it. We’d need to be back at the beginning of August so Rory can go on the Boy Scout camping trip with Liam and Mikey.”
Bailey and Clay still planned activities for Rory with the O’Neil family, and those, too, had to be covered by the Secret Service. This camping trip required an agent to go along. Jerry Grayson had been designated, as he was male, and an outdoorsman.
C.J. had never been to the Wainwrights’ secluded lake residence—hardly a cottage—on two acres of land in the picturesque Finger Lakes, though she’d seen photos and schematics of it in her VPPD training. She’d studied the layout of the house and grounds on her own time. The building itself wouldn’t be hard to secure. As with each of the presidential and vice presidential private residences, the taxpayers’ money had been spent to make the place safer by installing things like bulletproof glass on the banks of windows, a Fort Knox–type security system, closed-circuit cameras on the roof and fenced-in perimeters. The lakefront posed a problem, though. No one could control the waters themselves. When the vice president was on site, they’d need even more agent coverage.
“Define us all,” Dylan said.
Bailey glanced at her husband, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Well, Mama and Pa, of course. Me and the kids would go with you.”
From the corner where he stood, Liam frowned. Bailey smiled at him, as if she knew what he was thinking. “We could take Mikey, Liam. He’s on summer vacation. I could spend the whole month of July with him. It might make up for missing me so much.”
“That’d be great, Bay.”
Having heard Bailey on the phone talking to her nephew Mike countless times, C.J. knew there was a bond between them; from what she’d picked up, the kid was having trouble since Bailey went to live in Washington.
“And Mikey could see firsthand Pa’s doing fine,” Bailey continued. “He didn’t take the heart attack too well.”
“What about Pa’s rehab?” Patrick asked.
“Well, he’s finished with Phase One.” Which was hospital care, advice about diet and exercise and medication decision making. “Phase Two can be done at the lake. We’ll have a private nurse come in three times a week to monitor his physical progress and hire a therapist to work on his exercise plan with him, at least for a while.”
Bailey’s father grasped her hand. “I can’t afford that, lass.”
“I know, Pa. But Clay and I can.”
Pa O’Neil was about to object—C.J.’s own pa would have been outraged by the suggestion—when Bailey played her first card. She placed her father’s hand on her belly. “Little Patrick in here wants his grandpa to get the best care.”
Still, Pa seemed unconvinced.
Clay stepped forward. “Actually, Patrick, you’d be doing me a favor. Bailey was supposed to go to Zanganesia with me in a week on a goodwill tour.”
“Where is that?”
“On the northwest border of China.” He shot Bailey a stern look. “I’ve thought all along that the travel might be too much for her but couldn’t convince her to beg off.”
The emotion on the Second Lady’s face wasn’t faked. Travel abroad was dangerous for the president and vice president. The security was a nightmare. Three advance visits by the service preceded any trip, and between those and the number of agents needed for the travel itself, huge amounts of man- and womanpower were required. So far C.J. hadn’t gone on one of these trips with the Second Lady.
C.J. shook her head. And she hadn’t planned on going this time because Clay was fudging the truth. He and Bailey had fought over her going with him. Zanganesia had been overrun with youth crime, and just after Clay took office, the prime minister had come to the United States and sought out Clay’s advice for cleaning up the small Asian country. Many of Clay’s suggestions had been implemented and the country was getting back on its feet.
Because of her background with youth gangs, Bailey had been in on the discussion and wanted to take this trip with Clay, but when she got pregnant he opposed her going along. In the end, Bailey agreed not to go because of the jet lag a trip like that would cause and the always-lingering danger of native militants with a grudge against the U.S. They didn’t tell Pa the issue had already been resolved, though.
“I’d rather have my daughter here in New York than in Asia, too.” Pa O’Neil scowled. “What would I do up at the lake? It’s out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Not really, Pa. There are towns at either end of the lake. You’d rest. Visit with your grandkids. You complain you don’t get to see Rory or Angel enough. Anyway, you’re not gonna be dancing till dawn in the city. You have to take it easy anywhere you’ll be.” His daughter grinned. “You and me could fish, too. Like we did when we went up there before.”
Not good. Fishing would require a lot of detail work.
Mary Kate O’Neil crossed to the bed and touched her husband’s arm. “I could cook and take care of the kids.” She glanced at her daughter. “You wouldn’t be bringin’ that nanny, would you?”
“No,” Clay said. “I suggested Anika come along, but Bailey thinks she should have the time off to visit her family.”
“I can take care of my own kids.” Bailey surveyed her brothers. “But I do think one of the boys should go with us.”
“Why?” Aidan asked. He still seemed grumpy and out of sorts. His attack earlier on C.J. had been unwarranted, and seemingly out of character for the guy, but she was able to ignore his remarks and cutting tone. Though it did smart a bit, probably because he’d hit bull’s-eye about her family. She’d steered clear of him the last few days, and hoped he wasn’t the one to go to the lake with them.
“Pa could need help,” Bailey explained. “Lifting heavy stuff, that kind of thing.”
“You’ll be surrounded by Secret Service agents.” Aidan again. “They can lift whatever.”
“That’s not their job,” Clay put in. “Besides, Pa’s needs might be personal at first and one of his sons should be there to assist him.”
The oldest, Patrick, looked thoughtful. “Liam could go with Mikey. Cleary’s going to the special computer camp for a few weeks. When he’s home, Brie could take care of him, or Liam could bring him up there.”
Dylan said, “We’d have to find a replacement cook at the pub first.”
“Doesn’t matter if you could. I got my other job mornings.” Liam’s brows knitted. “I could come up on my days off. Maybe even take some extra vacation.”
Again, the oldest brother scowled. C.J. had learned how much responsibility he shouldered. “I’d go, but me leavin’ the pub would be even harder.”
“And I can’t abandon Hogan now.” Dylan’s voice was strained when he talked about his son. “With Stephanie in town, he needs me around as a buffer.”
Everybody looked to Aidan. “I work at the pub,” he said weakly.
“My boys are off for the summer,” Patrick put in. “Sinead’s graduating high school. And Sean’s fifteen. They could take up the table waiting you do, the heavy stuff. Me and Dylan can do extra shifts bartending and Bridget could come in a few extra hours.”
Bridget was a part-time cook and bartender, C.J. knew. The service had checked everybody out who had a connection with the vice president’s family.
Bailey zeroed in on Aidan. “You could take pictures at the lake. Think of the shots you could get on the water. There’s some quaint areas near the cottage, too. Unbelievable landscapes. The magazines that publish your work will love the change of scenery from New York photos.”
Pa O’Neil harrumphed.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Aidan rocked back on his heels. “I guess I could do it.” He glanced at Mitch. “I assume you two would go?”
“Them and more,” Clay added. “There are agents up there already. To guard Jon before he left for France.”
Clay’s twenty-two-year-old son by a former marriage was going to study at the Sorbonne for the summer and had taken a break at the lake for a few weeks before he left.
“The agents who were guarding him made sure the cottage and the trailer on the property were secure for his visit. They swept the town, too. They’ll stay on so we don’t have to redo that security. And, since we’d prefer not to broadcast Bailey’s location, people will think the security contingent is at the lake still guarding Jon.”
Though the public knew the whereabouts of vacation homes for protectees, like Camp David, Mondale’s spread and Reagan’s ranch, the government tried to keep specific vacation plans on the QT.
“It’ll get out eventually that Bailey’s in residence, but she’ll have some peace for a while, and be safer.”
“I’ll be plenty safe with C.J. and Mitch.”
Mitch said, “Agent Ludzecky and I can cover Bailey, Angel and Rory. We’ll bring in two more special agents for relief, and a few more uniforms to join the agents there.”
Again, Aidan shook his head. “It sounds like a lot of work.”
Giving them the infamous Calloway grin, Mitch shrugged. “We don’t mind, do we, Agent Ludzecky?”
She minded. A lot. First, she preferred the routine. Protecting Bailey was easier in Washington or even at the New York town house. Second, she didn’t like close-proximity details. They could be smothering. And spending time with this happy family would be hard for her personally. She shot a glance at Aidan. Not to mention him. They were at odds for some reason. But it was more than that. She had that feeling again, niggling at her. Stay away from this guy.
Hell. She also admitted to herself that she didn’t want to be in the New York area because her own family was here. Her brother Luke lived only an hour from Keuka Lake. What if they found out she was nearby? Would they seek her out? Worse, if she was in the vicinity for any length of time and didn’t call them, they’d be mad as hell. Even Matka.
“Agent Ludzecky?” Mitch’s tone was all business.
She said only, “Of course we don’t mind. When do we leave?”