Commander in Chief (White House #2)(59)

Something in his expression alarms me. I pick up my skirts and start walking across the room as he motions me to the door.

“Something wrong?”

“We need to go,” he says.

He escorts me to the door, his hand on the small of my back as we climb into the state car.

I know whatever has happened is big; otherwise we wouldn’t have left. Something needs his attention ASAP.

“We’ve been attacked in the Middle East.”

I gasp. Then I set my hand on my stomach when a contraction hits. I’ve been feeling them on and off, and was told it was normal—the body preparing.

“What is it?” He looks at me in concern.

I meet his gaze, unsure. “Hopefully . . . practice.” But Murphy’s Law says it won’t be.





33





YOU LOVE ME





Charlotte



He’s making me time them on our way to the White House, and the contractions are coming regularly, every four minutes.

“Can you wait for me?” Matt asks when we reach the White House and he sits me on the nearest couch.

“I’ll try,” I promise.

“Wait for me,” he says. His tone is firm and sounds like an order to the universe, part command, part request to me as he glances at my stomach.

I can see the tearing need inside him to be in two places at once, a need that is impossible for him to fulfill, even as the most powerful man in the land.

His jaw flexes in the fiercest way. “I hate doing this to you.” He leans over and he cups my face. “I love you.”

I nod, wanting to appease him. “Every time you hold me close, every time you look at me, I’m reminded of how much you love me. When you do this . . .” I lift his hand and kiss the back of it, the way he sometimes grazes his lips over my knuckles. “That’s all I need. Just knowing it’s there, that you’re there and you’re what’s best for our country and what’s best for me.”

I suck in a harsh breath as a contraction hits, and I try not to cringe.

Matt notices. “Another?”

“It’s okay. Go.”

He hesitates.

“Go.”

He mutters a curse.

And then he spins around and heads away.

“Call her mother,” he orders Stacey.

“Yes, sir.”

I don’t tell him my mom is in the Caribbean with my dad and she can’t get here to support me no matter how fast she’d want to.

The pain comes and goes in waves, but the concern about what’s happening to our people feels even worse.

I feel like I just swallowed glass, the dread of all that could happen plaguing me as I try to calm down and keep my baby inside me a little longer.





34





TRAGEDY





Matt



One floor below the Oval Office is the Situation Room.

Manned 24/7, this is the place where you figure out and tackle the important things. The White House brain.

Where I’ve talked through the videoconference system to other heads of state. And ordered covert operations, among other highly classified endeavors.

I walk in with Dale Coin and Arturo Villegas, my chief security advisor.

Before the inauguration, the CIA director briefed me on all the covert operations the U.S. was engaged in against foreign enemies. Those had all been personally authorized by my predecessor, Jacobs, and would cease if I gave the word. If I remained silent, the operations would continue.

It’s one thing to be a candidate; another, the president.

Some of those operations were highly dangerous, with little benefit to the United States. But we have allies, too, which was something to consider.

Still, when you command the most powerful army in the world, you cannot treat it as a game. Every move of our operatives needs to be planned, strategized, then recorded and analyzed. And no matter what information we have, there are always too many variations of an outcome. No matter how well briefed an incoming president, nothing prepares you to send your men and women to war.

Priorities shift. Gaining more access to intelligence causes your views to shift dramatically as well.

I only hope I made the right calls.

I know as sure as fuck I’m making the right one now.

The generals are already seated. I take my seat, lean back, and let the wall before me light up with visuals. The Middle East has been a hot button since long before I took office. Dictators, armed rebels, fucking ISIS.

“In position,” General Quincy says.

They all look at me. The silence is deafening.

One second, two seconds.

“Open fire.”





35





I’M HERE





Charlotte



I feel another contraction hit and pain ricochets through my body, burning through even my deepest muscles.

I groan and clutch the edge of the table nearest to me.

I feel the baby move inside me and I stop in place, pressing my legs together against his movements.

Holy shit, this baby means business.

We just walked into the National Naval Medical Center. I asked my team to bring me, and we left a message for Matt. Now I’m rushed in by my security guards, and people gasp when they see me enter the hospital alone.