Primary Valor, Jack Mars [black female authors .txt] 📗

this placeon his salary. He knew that. Becca’s family money had bought the house. Infact, her parents had simply given it to them. It said a lot, a lot he’d prefernot to think about.

What was he doing? What was heexposing himself to, and why?

He thought of Buzz MacDonaldagain. The man was dead. A seventy-two-year-old man had been murdered, possiblybecause Luke had made a bad decision. If Ed had been with them on that island,maybe Bowles…

“You can’t know that,” Don Morrishad told him. “You can’t know how it would have played out. You thought Ed wason a hair trigger, you thought he was putting his and your lives at risk. Maybeyou were right, did you ever think of that? Maybe if Newsam was with you, you’reboth dead now. You got the girl out, the other girls got rescued, and DarwinKing is where he belongs. That’s what matters.”

Don must have seen that Luke wasnot convinced.

“Here’s the other thing. Buzz Macdied doing what he wanted to do. They had to kick him out of special operationsbecause he was too old, and he didn’t want to leave. The guy lived on the edge.That’s where he wanted to be, riding that edge with guys like you, guys lessthan half his age. As much as it hurts, this was long overdue. He should havedied thirty years ago.”

Okay. Okay. Maybe Luke could buythat.

Maybe.

He didn’t want to think about itanymore. He picked up the TV remote control, hit the green button. The big flat-screenTV came on across the room, the sound on low. It was the news. Wasn’t italways?

Words across the bottom of thescreen, in capital letters:

DARWIN KING DIES IN JAIL.

“Now for breaking news,” thereporter said. He was a square-jawed, blond-haired man of indeterminate age. “BillionaireDarwin King was found dead of an apparent suicide in his cell at a federalholding facility in Atlanta this morning. He was discovered by a guard making aroutine welfare check at approximately four a.m. local time. Initial reportsindicate that he used a bed sheet to hang himself. King was under arrest inconnection with multiple sex trafficking cases, and the murder of a lobbyist inWashington, DC. His death raises more questions than it answers, and even atthis early hour, some lawmakers are calling for a congressional inquiry.”

Luke shut it off. It was too much.

The world was too much. Maybedeath was a punishment. Or maybe the real punishment would have been a longprison sentence. It was possible that Darwin King had walked off scot-freeagain. Luke couldn’t decide. He was too tired.

He glanced at Gunner. The boy hadannihilated the bottle of milk and was already sound asleep. That was a goodway to be.

Luke lay back on the couch, theboy on his chest. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift.

The phone rang.

He looked at it. It was his cellphone. He had left it in here, on the coffee table, so it wouldn’t disturbanyone’s sleep. The ringer was off, but the vibrate mode was on. It made anannoying buzzing sound as it skittered slowly across the table.

He picked it up. Why not?

“Hello?”

“Luke? It’s Ed Newsam. Did I wakeyou?”

Luke shook his head and answeredhonestly. “No.

“Good, man. That’s good.”

Things were still tense. They hadpromised each other they would work out the differences between them, but ithadn’t happened yet. It was going to be a process. Luke didn’t know when itwould happen. He was on medical leave, recovering from his injuries. MeanwhileDon had given Ed some personal time off, to get his head together, and because…

The baby was coming.

“Ed…” Luke said.

Ed’s voice was shaking. “Yeah,man. I wanted to tell you. It just happened thirty minutes ago. I was going towait until a decent hour, but…”

Luke was silent for a long beat. Hedidn’t say a word.

“It’s a girl. A healthy baby girl.”

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

7:45 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool

The National Mall

Washington, DC

 

 

“I come here a lot,” Bill Ryansaid.

Don Morris walked on the giganticmall between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument with his formerclassmate and longtime… friend? Don supposed he would call Bill a friend.

They had drifted apart for manyyears, to be sure. Don had been off fighting America’s wars, and Bill had beenhere, doing that cloak-and-dagger thing that these politicians did. Now thatDon was in DC, he found himself pulled more and more into their orbit. If theSpecial Response Team was Don’s baby, and it was, then politics was how he keptthat little baby alive.

It was a chilly morning, andpeople moved quickly to and fro in long coats, on their way to work.

Don glanced at Bill. Bill’s facewas healing. There was little evidence of the bruises left from the savagebeating he had taken here less than ten days ago. It was clear that he wasusing makeup to cover up some of the damage, but Bill had already been back towork for the past week. He was a tough customer.

“I wanted to meet you here, Don,in this place. Because I want you to feel what I’m feeling, and know what’s inmy heart. These are the two greatest Americans. Both men were in a fight forthe soul, for the very existence, of this country.”

Bill’s eyes searched Don’s.

“And so are we.”

That was nice, but Don wasn’tready for that kind of talk just yet.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “ButI have more practical issues in front of me. Miles Richmond is dead. Thismission was done as a favor to him, and he made a promise to me before he died,one that he can no longer keep. The mission was a success, but a lot of peopledied. A good friend of mine died. And now I’m exposed rather badly.”

Bill nodded. “I understand allthat. I’m also very sorry for the loss of your friend.”

“Buzz MacDonald was a credit tothis country,” Don said.

“I know,” Bill said. “And I wantyou to know this. You don’t need a promise from Miles Richmond, or anyone else,to continue doing the important work that you’ve been doing. You don’t needanother person’s promise to feel protected. That’s because you have me.”

He put his right hand over hisheart as they walked.