The melodic sound of laughter shot Marshall Rand’s gaze across the Siné Irish Pub in Arlington, Virginia. It had been a mistake choosing this place with all its memories. The instant he’d walked through the door and seen the happy couple at his and Amara’s spot, he’d regretted giving in to nostalgia and having his assistant, Ed, set up the meeting there with the new investor instead of in DC. He didn’t need the memories his murdered wife’s favorite restaurant resurrected to keep him moving forward with his goals. He had all the incentive he needed just looking in his son’s big brown eyes that looked just like his mom’s.
“So, do we have a deal?” Patrick Walker, the CEO for Moving Forward, asked as he rubbed his mouth with his napkin.
Marshall pulled his gaze from the couple and extended his hand across the table. “I look forward to working with you.”
Despite Marshall’s distraction, the meeting had been a success. With Moving Forward coming on as an investor to his manufacturing company, he’d be able to build another warehouse in Texas completely dedicated to the products they created for June Rivas’s inventions. The savings in freight and ability to have their researchers work more closely would benefit even more troops the inventions went to.
The more units equipped with the Eyes Beyond and latest body armor suit June had created, the more lives saved. The more lives saved, the more guilt Marshall could lift from his shoulders. At least, he hoped that would be the case.
Patrick glanced at his watch, his eyes widening. “Well then, I’ve got another meeting to get to. I’ll have paperwork sent over for you to look at.” He clapped Ed, who sat next to him, on the shoulder. “Thanks for a great lunch, boys.”
“Any time.” Marshall nodded as Patrick stood and headed for the door.
With that meeting out of the way, Marshall turned to his assistant, Ed. “Where are we with Senator Hammond?”
“Can’t you bask in success for a minute?” Ed Ross, Marshall’s assistant and best friend since college, shook his head and motioned toward Patrick’s receding form. “He hasn’t even made it out the door, and you’re already on to the next conquest.”
“The vote on the term limit bill is less than a week away.” Marshall poked at the last of his lunch. “We need Hammond behind it if it has a chance of passing.”
Ed pointed his chicken wing at Marshall, dripping Siné’s signature sauce on the table. “You’ll never get him to back the bill if you don’t offer him something in return.”
“I don’t mind supporting him and his plans,” Marshall said, his voice firm. “But that benefit he’s hosting puts money directly into pockets I refuse to fill.”
Ed grimaced at Marshall like he was a petulant child. “You and your high horse.”
“I won’t compromise my beliefs, Ed.” Marshall stabbed a bite of his banger with his fork and scooped it through the last of his garlic potatoes. “Not again.”
His gaze darted back to the table that held so many memories before he forced himself to focus on his meal. He needed to remember in the future when nostalgia hit to smother it. Nothing but regret and heartache filled the past, and tormenting himself with Amara’s favorite hangouts while they visited this cesspool called the Capitol only made things worse.
His stomach hardened with grief, and he set his fork on the plate. He stared out the window as Ed sulked over his wings. A mother pulled her son down the sidewalk. The boy had blonde hair sticking in all directions like Marshall’s son did. The two boys looked about the same age. The reminder of Carter softened the rock of grief lodged in Marshall’s stomach.
The past hadn’t just left sorrow and agony behind. Carter lived as a testament to Marshall’s love for Amara. Marshall would do everything in his power to be the man of character Carter deserved—to be a better father than he had been a husband.
“Marsh, listen.” Ed pushed his plate to the edge of the table and rested his forearms on the empty space.
His face took on that look he got when someone tested his tenacity. The expression had always marveled Marshall, causing him to settle in for whatever heated debate Ed would get into. Marshall resented being on the receiving end of Ed’s bull-doggedness. If the man wasn’t Marshall’s closest friend, the pushing would end up with a termination notice.
“If you don’t bend some, this trip will be a complete waste.” Ed squeezed his hands together. “You can’t make change without compromise.”
Marshall had stubbornness to match. He hadn’t won the Kentucky congressional seat on his good looks alone—hadn’t taken Amara’s already prosperous company and shot it into the stratosphere of success. He hired Ed to be the balance he needed in these situations, but it rankled that he’d have to explain to him again.
“I compromise plenty.” Marshall tossed his napkin on his half-eaten meal and leaned back in his chair, his gaze darting to his head of security, Tony, sitting a table over as he put his hand to his ear and nodded. “I can’t put my support behind Hammond’s fundraiser, not with my questions unanswered.”
“It’s the Cry Out Against Human Trafficking organization, for Pete’s sake. How could you possibly be against helping those victims?”
“I’m not against helping, and you know that.” Marshall’s chest heated at the accusation. “I’m just not convinced the organization is on the up and up. There are red flags waving that I can’t ignore.”
“I’ve read up on them, and they seem fine. Better than fine.” Ed tapped his index finger on the table. “You won’t get Hammond to budge. In fact, he may undo everything we’ve accomplished so far.”
Marshall stared Ed down, though he inwardly cringed. Ed brought up some valid points. Was Marshall cutting himself off at the knees with his stubbornness? He shook his head with a sigh. Something didn’t sit right with the organization. He had that twisting feeling in his gut that told him something was off. He’d ignored that instinct before, pushed it aside for the better good.
He stared back across the restaurant at the happy couple. Being a widower wasn’t better or good. He promised himself he wouldn’t ignore that warning bell again, no matter who it upset or if it made his end goal more difficult to obtain. He could dig his heels in with the best of them.
“It doesn’t matter what Leland Hammond does or doesn’t do.” Marshall smiled at the server as she brought the check and he handed her his credit card before turning back to Ed with a weariness that ached his muscles. “I left Congress after Amara’s murder because I refused to play the political game. Bending now isn’t an option and never will be.”
“Marsh, you have to let that go.” Ed’s eyes held concern. “Amara’s accident, while tragic, can’t hold you down and bind your options anymore.”
“Murder.” Heat rose up Marshall’s neck, and he swallowed it down. “There was no accident.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Ed shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been two years. I don’t want to see her death strangle you anymore. Eventually, it could choke out everything and leave you with nothing. Amara wouldn’t want that.”
A headache throbbed behind Marshall’s eyes. Her death wasn’t strangling him. It fueled him. Keeping it in the forefront of his mind propelled him to work harder. He’d make her family company he’d inherited into a name that others equated with influence and power, bolstering the nation’s freedom he loved so much. Could wanting that as a monument to his wife be such a bad thing?
Could his drive to make up for his colossal mistakes kill everything good left in his life? Carter filled Marshall’s mind. When was the last time he’d really played with his son? Sure, they saw each other every day, even bringing Carter along when Marshall had to travel. But were the snatches of thirty minutes here and there enough? The three-year-old learned something new all the time, and Marshall barely had a moment to celebrate his son’s milestones.
A pub employee set down the small folder with the credit card and receipt as they rushed past, and Marshall pushed the troubling thoughts aside. He could worry about his son and their relationship later. His focus had to remain on the task at hand—getting senators and congressmen to see reason and vote for limited terms. There had to be enough loyal to the republic to see that lifetime seats equated bad policy. When they all got back to Kentucky, he’d work in his schedule more time with Carter.
“I just …” Ed sighed and met Marshall’s gaze. “I just want what’s best for you, man. I don’t want you to crash in a blaze of glory when you could cruise into your goals.”
Marshall really looked at his best friend across the table. Though he had just turned thirty-one like Marshall, Ed’s hair was graying at his temples, and he appeared more worn around the edges than he should. Was that Marshall’s fault as well? Had his desire to right his own past put unnecessary strain on his friend?
“Man, you know I’m not the cruisin’ type.” Marshall forced a laugh as he reached for his credit card. “But if it’ll make you happy, I’ll look into that organization again. Maybe I’m wrong.”
Marshall opened the receipt holder and plucked up his card, his eyes skimming the handwritten note beneath the card. His hand froze, and the room closed in around him, blurring and slowing as he read the words again.
Do what we say or your son will end up like your wife.
“I know you’ll never slow down, but at least y—” The muffle of Ed’s voice thawed Marshall’s frozen muscles. “What? Marsh, what’s wrong?”
Marshall picked up the note. His hand shaking made the paper flutter loudly in the air. Ed scanned the note and gulped. He lifted wide eyes to Marshall as his face paled.
“We’re leaving.” Marshall shoved his chair out so fast it crashed to the floor. “We’re leaving now.”
As he rushed to the door with the note bunched in his hand, he pulled out his phone and dialed Lena Rebel, Carter’s bodyguard that posed as his nanny, scanning the restaurant for the employee that had dropped off the receipt. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing her before that either. The sinking feeling from earlier hit him again as he glanced back to their table where Ed threw the pen after scribbling a signature on the charge slip.
The call connected, and Marshall didn’t wait for Lena to talk. “Is Carter safe?”
“Yes. He’s right here with me in the house.” Lena’s answer fired at him with the efficiency he’d come to expect from her.
Relief flooded through him. “Good. Keep him close. I’ll be there shortly to explain.”
Marshall hung up before she could answer and stomped out the pub door, his frigid shock turning to white-hot anger. He didn’t understand what they wanted him to do, but no one threatened his family. Not again. He’d keep his family safe this time at all costs.