A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(35)

I look down.

Deranged Ex-boyfriend Stalks Presidential Candidate’s Daughter.

“Those *s.”

“They may be *s, but they outsmarted you, Drew. I can’t have them contaminate Lindsay. Thank God, nothing in that article implicates her, but -- ”

Contaminate?

“Don’t you see what they’re doing, Harry? Are you kidding me? They’re isolating you. Making you fire me. You’re handing them exactly what they want!”

“I don’t care about their agenda. Only my own. And you know I have to do this.”

“Keep Gentian. He’s my best guy. And if you’re going to hire someone -- ”

“I’ve already called Mark Paulson. Left a message.”

A tiny tendril of hope shoots through me.

“Good. Mark’s great.”

“Stay away from him. I don’t want anyone to know you two are associated.”

“He works for me.”

“Not any more. He’s spinning off his own company as we speak. On the record – he’s officially disgusted and shocked by your behavior.”

I grind my teeth. Damn it.

“He’s James Thornberg’s grandson. That legacy will rub off on him. Give him legitimacy. Might even help me with polling. A loose mental association between Thornberg and me could help with this mess.”

This mess.

I am this mess.

“And Lindsay?”

“What about her?”

“You know how hard this is for her, Harry. I’ve been able to help her with -- ”

“You mean how you’re helping her in her bedroom?”

If he said anything else – anything else – about Lindsay, I wouldn’t look away. But even I can’t maintain eye contact with the father of the woman I’m sleeping with as he calls me out for it.

I have limits, too.

“Damn it, Drew. Every worst-case scenario is coming true. Marshall warned me this was a possibility.”

I jolt. “Marshall?” Marshall won’t make eye contact, but he’s also not cowering. The guy won’t even look at me.

“He said you weren’t ready. And he was right.”

“Who in the hell are you to decide whether I can do a security job or not?” I make it clear with the way my eyes check him out that this pasty, overweight, pompous overachiever is the last person qualified to judge me.

“He called it, Drew.”

“I want to hear it from him.”

Beady eyes, narrow and angry, meet mine. “This isn’t personal,” Marshall says in a monotone. “The fact that you can’t understand that confirms that firing you is the right choice, Foster. That’s how the game works.”

“Protecting Lindsay isn’t a game.”

“I never said that. But the presidential race is a game – a game of strategy. You don’t fit in. Not with your personal vendetta against one of the key players.”

“Key players? Blaine’s a key player?”

“He’s more important as a strategic piece than you are. Consider yourself lucky Harry’s found a way to still use Paulson.”

“I don’t give a shit about that, Marshall. This isn’t about billable security hours or money or friendship. The stakes are higher!”

“That’s right. They are. A presidency is at stake here, and we’re not going to let you compromise that because you had some kind of argument years ago with Blaine Maisri over a woman,” Marshall snaps back, going for the jugular. A bitter smile makes his lips twitch.

The f*cker is enjoying this.

I am thunderstruck.

I’ve seriously underestimated him.

“A what?”

“Blaine told me all about it. He dated Lindsay. So did you. You’ve become unhinged since she came back. You aren’t thinking straight.”

Harry’s watching us carefully, though I can tell his attention is split. He knows this is bullshit. I calculate quickly.

One of two pieces of information is true:



1) Marshall is on Blaine’s side and somehow Harry doesn’t realize it 2) Marshall has been kept out of the loop on all the details from four years ago.



Both can’t be true.

And both are dangerous as hell.

If I have to pick one, though, number two is easier to deal with.

Number one is the choice I’m most worried about.

I ignore Marshall and turn to Harry. “You know the truth about Blaine Maisri, Harry. Is this really your final decision?”

His look doesn’t waver. Unlike Marshall, he doesn’t avoid my eyes. “Already been made. Mark Paulson will call you shortly. Hand over all your codes, passwords, everything, to be changed over to new. Stay away, Drew. Stay far away. It’s about press coverage and appearance.” Harry grabs my arm and pulls me aside. He’s not rough. In fact, the move is smooth, like he knows he can touch me this way.

I yank my arm out of his grasp.

He needs to know he can’t.

Harry gives Marshall a look. The guy leaves the room, shaking his head, on his phone before the doorknob clicks with a finality that feels like a guillotine blade.

“I mean it, Drew. Don’t come near her. No covert mission. No unauthorized security on her. I’ll consider that stalking and have you prosecuted,” Harry insists.