The Belial Stone (The Belial Series #1)(25)

“Laney, shotgun blasts can't-”

“Heal in that short a time. I know. I can’t explain it. I just know what I saw. I also saw him take two bullets in the chest without pause. Can’t explain that, either, in case you’re wondering.”

They lapsed into silence. Finally, Rocky spoke. “Look, if anyone asks me about this next piece of the conversation, it never happened. Got it?”

Laney nodded.

“Okay. I think you need to leave town. I don’t know if it’s the same guy who came after you at the safe house. But someone is definitely after you. We need to hide you away.”

Laney shook her head. “No. If someone goes looking for me and can’t find me, they’ll go after the people I care about - my uncle, Kati, Max, you.”

“Kati and Max are already out of town. We’ll get them to extend their stay. And take your uncle with you.” She flexed her bicep. “And I’d like to see someone come after me.”

“Rocky, I can't …”

Rocky’s expression was fierce. “Yes. You can and you will. You are in danger. And I’ve got a place for you to go: Chandler Headquarters. That place is like Fort Knox.”

“Down in Baltimore? But how? I can’t ask Jake to do that.”

“Don’t have to. While you were having your little chat with Jake, I had one with Jake’s boss, Henry Chandler. It’s all arranged. There’s a plane arriving at the airport in about four hours for you guys. And I called your uncle. He’s going to say the evening Mass and then go with you.”

Laney gave Rocky an incredulous look. “Jake can’t possibly agree to that. The email from Drew can’t have anything to do with his brother.”

“Well, I saw how he watched you. I think the boy has a bit of a crush. And you are a bit of a damsel in distress right now.”

Laney rolled her eyes. “I can honestly say that playing the part of the damsel in distress has never appealed to me. I much prefer being the knight in shining armor.”

Rocky grinned. “Well, right now you’re a bit of a hybrid.” She pulled Laney into a tight hug. “Just try to avoid needing rescuing any time soon.”

“I’ll do my best.” She pictured Paul’s face contorted with anger. A tremor ran through her. “But I don’t think that’s entirely my decision.”





CHAPTER 20



Washington, D.C.



Gideon glided through the bustling halls of the U.S. Capitol behind Senator Robert Kensington. He adjusted his posture to look meek, unimportant. In these halls, the unimportant were given less attention than the furniture.

Kensington, however, pulled attention to himself like a moth to a flame. He greeted the people who passed with a nod or smile. Tall with a large, open face, he was the perfect personification of the Washington politician: navy tailored suit, hair graying at the temples, a smile for every constituent, blue eyes that could convey sincerity, anger, or righteous indignation at the drop of a hat. The living embodiment of Machiavelli’s creed: Men in general judge more from appearances than reality. How foolish.

Kensington stopped to chat with another senator, an obnoxious woman from Georgia. Gideon settled himself against a wall to wait.

He peered up at the Capitol Dome and the Apotheosis of Washington, painted by Constantino Brumidi. People zipped passed him, but he paid them no heed now. Adorning the eye of the rotunda, the fresco depicted George Washington rising to heaven. George Washington was immortalized as if he were a god.

The fresco always caused a small burn in Gideon’s chest. A human as a god. There was no end to their arrogance.

But even Gideon had to admit he could feel the power of the building. Power that had been wielded by men since the birth of this country.

Kensington glanced back at him. With a haughty tilt of his head, he indicated that Gideon should follow.

Gideon imagined smashing him into Washington's face above. The image tamped down his anger at the man's imperious manner. He sighed. It was only a short while longer until this farce would be at an end.

“Robert.”

Gideon glanced behind him and saw Frederick Santolt, the chairman of Kensington’s party, walking towards them. Freddy, as he liked to be called, always portrayed a down-home charm that went over well with the media and constituents. Behind the scenes, however, Freddy was a shark who made all the other politicians look like guppies. And, Gideon knew, he was the man who held the keys to Kensington’s dream.

Kensington turned on his full watt smile. “Freddy, how’re you doing? Great speech on the union measure.”

Freddy grasped his hand in a firm handshake and placed his other hand on Kensington’s bicep, his “I’m your buddy” shake. Gideon noticed Kensington’s shoulders stiffen in response. And for good reason. Freddy only employed the buddy handshake when he was delivering bad news.

Well, this should be entertaining. Gideon glided closer to the pair.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” Freddy drawled, somehow pulling off a Texas accent even though he had been born and bred in Boston. “Just got off the phone with a few of our big sponsors. They’re very excited about the upcoming election. They think we have a real shot.”

“I’m glad. I think it’s our turn.”

“Indeed, indeed.” Freddy replied. Gideon barely avoided grimacing at the man’s conversational mainstay. “That’s, in fact, what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you have aspirations for the higher office.”