The Gentlewoman (33 page)

When she finally stopped, she lay still to feel for broken
bones. She raised her head and wiped the snow out of her face. She looked up to
see that she had somersaulted down a gulley and was lying at the bottom. She
was mostly buried in snow, and tried to get up, laughing as her footing was
ineffective.

She saw faces peering over the top of the gulley and Jackson
came running down.

“Are you okay?”

She laughed. “I’m fine, just stuck!”

He felt her body for any signs of injury. “Take one snowshoe
off and stand.”

He helped her do as she was told, laughing at the absurdity
of the situation.

“I guess I’m not gonna win, am I?”

He steadied her as he snickered. “Nope, you’re not going to
win this one. But it was hot as hell watching you run in those snowshoes.” He
lifted her by the ass, setting her away from the deep snow.

Rory did the walk of shame as Jackson pulled her up the hill
and escorted her to the finish line. She was last, and received a frozen lemon
trophy for her efforts. She laughed and promised to cherish it forever,
considering what she had endured for the achievement. She received a hearty
round of applause after telling them to watch out for her next year!

Jackson and Rory refueled with hot coffee at a little shop
in Falmouth, full of Follies participants. Rory sat down gingerly in her
snowsuit. She looked out the window, watching the people filling the town
center. The day was so enjoyable, cold but bright with sunshine. Such a nice
town, she thought. Folks nodded at Jackson, some stopping to chat and shake hands.

He showed her the map of the snowmobile trail. Her heart
sank. It was full of ups and downs, and she had already had her fill of downs.
She didn’t care who they were, this was no easy trail. She’d like to get their
asses on Lake Erie when the wind was blowing and make them paddle a kayak to
shore. See how they liked it.

Jackson folded the map. “So I’ll drive the snowmobile. You
can ride on the back.”

“Excuse me? I can do it.”

He held his hands up. “Rory, please. This is a ten-mile
trail, and you’ve never driven one of these. You’ve snowshoed your way over a
cliff already today. I really won’t stand by and wait to see what happens when
we add heavy machinery to the mix.”

She gaped at him, open mouthed. His glare remained adamant.
Finally, as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the soreness from her tumble, she
acquiesced. Besides, she really was worried, that snowshoe race hadn’t been fun
and games.

“Fine. Just leave me with my dignity.”

“I’ll try,” he said as he sipped coffee. “But you’ll be the
one in the costume, not me.”

Truer words were never spoken, Rory thought. She sat perched
on the back of Jackson’s snowmobile, dressed in a lumberjack coat, hat, fake
beard and mustache. Ryan looked on proudly and Jackson stood, adjusting his
goggles, talking to the friendly hometown reporters. They were indeed
interested in Playboy Dorn and his new fiancée. Photographers snapped pictures
of her looking beyond ridiculous. It was a family event though, and she smiled
widely as Jackson gushed that she represented the Dorn Foundation well.

Before she knew it, Jackson had climbed aboard and started
the snowmobile, smoothly gliding up to the starting line. He chatted loudly
with the people on the other machines.

He turned his head as they hovered. “Hold tight, baby. I
don’t want you falling off!”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him, slipping her arms
around his waist. Putting a snowsuit over that body did little to hide his hard
build. He seemed taller and broader. The hat and goggles accentuated his strong
jaw and facial features. She rested her cheek on his back, thinking how lucky
she was to have this sexy god.

Somebody on the sideline caught her attention. As she turned
her head back to look, there was a large man standing on the spectator line. He
was staring at her. There was something about the way he was watching. Not that
she could see his eyes. In fact, she couldn’t see any skin. Her heart sank. He
wore a ski hat and mask, with snow goggles over his eyes. She thought maybe he
wasn’t staring at her, but the guy’s head followed her exactly when Jackson
moved them up several feet toward the line.

She looked around to find her Homeland Security shadows. She
spotted them not too far off, keeping their eyes on her and Jackson. She looked
back at the man. He was still studying her as he stepped back to allow two
women to pass in front of him. Rory thought there was something familiar about
the way he moved. She couldn’t quite place it, and she instantly thought of
Roan. Her stomach dropped to her knees and just as she would have opened her
mouth to tell Jackson, the gunshot sounded and the snowmobile lunged forward.

Rory required a long hot shower and a nap after returning to
the house. She eased under the showerhead, moaning when the hot water beat down
on her sore body. All through the awards ceremonies and interviews following
their snowmobile race, she had been dreaming of this moment.

The race itself had been brutal and Rory was thankful
Jackson had driven that snowmobile. Her ass bounced up and down the entire
race. They didn’t win, but they had made pretty good time. It made Rory
appreciate watching Ryan’s race, which was double the distance and roughness.
The teenager hadn’t been slowed at all, jumping off his machine after crossing
the finish line.

The reporters had all asked the same basic questions: how
they met, when they would marry, all the romantic information people loved.
They had both proudly fielded the questions, holding hands and looking into
each other’s eyes. They said they had yet to work out so many of the details,
that they were just enjoying being together in the great state of Maine. Rory
had beamed when Jackson told the reporters how proud he was to bring his girl
home, and what a great addition she was to the Follies.

Rory was out before her head hit the pillow. While she
napped, Jackson slipped outside and into the agents’ car. Agents Thomas and
Hondo were not regulars at Rory’s condo, but Secretary Reynolds assured Jackson
he had hand-picked them for this assignment.

“Did you spot him?” Jackson asked, blowing into his hands.

“We did. The bastard never showed a patch of skin. We
couldn’t make him.”

“He was laser focused on Rory from the minute we arrived on
the island. I saw him again at the snowmobile event. Motherfucker was lucky I
didn’t lose it.”

“He drove a rental car around town. We had to let him go
after a while so we wouldn’t leave the congresswoman uncovered. Never took
those goggles off, even in the car.”

Jackson cursed. It had scared and angered him that somebody
could get so close to Rory. “We’re going to my family home this evening for a
dinner party. Let’s keep a close eye out. I don’t want anything to happen.”

Jackson left the agents and went to check that Rory was
still sleeping. He didn’t want to upset her with the knowledge that somebody
had been following them all day. She seemed to be so relaxed and happy. He
wanted her to have this reprieve before going back to their fucked-up reality.

Back in the bedroom he slipped under the covers and
surrounded her body with his, their faces cheek to cheek.

“Don’t move me, please!”

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Rory moaned and looked into his eyes. “I think I have Down
Easter ass.” Jackson shook the bed hard with his laughter.

Rory was surprised at the number of people in attendance at
the Dorns’ dinner party. It was clear that his mother was feeling better. She
looked gorgeous. And it helped that she didn’t have to lift a finger, with a
mansion full of staff. With what Rory knew about Mrs. Dorn’s condition, that
was necessity as much as luxury. There must have been two hundred people,
including Dorn Foundation staff, family and friends.

The “house” as Jackson called it was castle-like in
proportions. The party was held in a main parlor, a two-story open lodge-type
room outlined with dark woodwork and beams. A roaring fireplace took up one
wall, with lighted displays of museum-quality china, vases, and pottery on the
others. The blue-green carpeting and cream-colored settees and sofas softened
the room. Small round tables with damask coverings were set up around a
car-size floral arrangement in the center. A pianist and harpist played in the
background, and waiters made rounds with silver trays of food and champagne.

Rory was glad she had purchased a new dress for the
occasion. She was not overdressed in her emerald-green cocktail gown, as she
had feared. She liked the fitted gown with spaghetti straps. Jackson, of
course, had taken charge at the store. He even made her promise to wear her
hair up, so he could kiss her neck. He wore a very well-cut suit. It was so odd
to Rory, Jackson never seemed like a person who came from such immense wealth.

Of course, she knew why after meeting his mother. Patty, as
she asked Rory to call her, was warm, intelligent and funny in addition to
being strikingly beautiful. She sat in the middle of the room chatting with
guests as they came and went. She wore a soft violet-colored gown and stunning
diamond jewelry.

Rory had met and spent time with the entire family earlier
in the evening. Jackson was the spitting image of his father, who was polite
but very reticent. In stark contrast were Jackson’s brothers, very animated and
outgoing, flirtatious like Jackson. The oldest brother, Thomas Jr., was a vice
president in the family paper and lumber businesses. Daniel and Kevin were
traders on Wall Street. They were all good-looking men, but Jackson was the
most handsome. Their wives were model gorgeous. His sister Fiona, a very pretty
petite brunette, joked and laughed with her brothers.

They were welcoming of her. They asked her questions about
herself, including her new term in Congress. Rory noticed they steered clear of
any discussion about her first husband and the incident three years prior, and
she wondered if they had been prepped by Jackson. Probably so, she thought, and
what a relief. His family and their potential questions had weighed on her
mind.

Later in the evening, Jackson’s mother invited her to sit.
Patty remarked on the day’s events; she had followed their appearances at the
Follies on the local news channels. She was thrilled Rory had joined in the
games, it being her first time in town and meeting the family. Patty told Rory
she liked her “moxy”. Rory laughed and could tell this was high praise.

“Jackson looked quite happy about the news reports today. In
fact, I haven’t seen my youngest son this happy in ages.” She sipped sparkling
water from a crystal goblet and looked through the crowd.

“I hope I make him half as happy as he makes me.”

“Oh you do, dear. I can tell. He’s smiling with his eyes
again. I haven’t seen that in years. I was beginning to worry that he’d never
find the woman he needed. I always knew his screwing around was just boredom,
and I always hoped he’d find his match.”

Rory’s eyebrows rose and she felt very complimented. “Thank
you. I certainly know I’ve met mine…finally.”

Patty looked into Rory’s eyes. “Yes, I know you’ve had a
difficult time. Maybe now you can both be happy and free. True love can set you
free.”

Rory looked at Jackson, who was chatting with his brothers.
She thought about what Patty said. She was right. Jackson set her free. She had
felt it from the start. The way he made her feel such excitement and yet so
comfortable that she didn’t hesitate to come out of her shell. She had felt it
before she even realized it was happening. He set her free. Free from her panic
and anxiety, free from guilt and shame, and free to love and deserve love.

“If you’ll excuse me, Patty, I’d like to dance with that
man.”

“Please, dear. It would be a pleasure to see.”

Rory crossed the floor and Jackson entwined her in his arms,
kissing her neck.

“May I have this dance?”

“Certainly, Congresswoman.”

They crossed to the dance floor. He took her into his arms
and nodded to the pianist. A slower song began.

“I want to tell you something,” Rory said.

“Oh?” He hummed to the music.

“I love you.”

He smiled and pulled her closer. “Well that’s good. Because
I love you too, and you’re marrying me.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re sure? There’ll be no turning back.”

“I’m sure.” She beamed.

“Well, in that case.” Jackson swiftly dropped to one knee.
The few couples around them backed out of the way and the piano immediately
played a full dramatic crescendo before falling silent.

Rory looked down at Jackson in shock. She looked around to
see all eyes were trained on them.

“Congresswoman Rory Elizabeth Morgan, you have transformed
me. I love you, and I never want to be without you. Please wear this ring and
be my wife.” He held up an open ring box. Rory looked into it, at the most
exquisite diamond ring she had ever seen.

She looked past the ring into Jackson’s handsome face. Tears
broke free as she thought of the words he had said, of how he was the one who
had transformed her.

She took a deep breath. “Congressman Jackson Patrick Dorn,
you are my home. You are the love who has made me whole and I will be honored
to wear your ring and be your wife forever.”

She could see the tears in his eyes. He swiftly freed the
ring from its box and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. He rose
quickly and took her into his arms. He pulled back and cupped her cheeks,
kissing her slowly and deeply while the other party guests applauded loudly.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered into her ear.

She looked into his glowing eyes. “I love you so much.”

Rory admired the ring again, on the corporate jet headed
back to DC. A driver had shown up at Jackson’s house Sunday morning to take
them to the airport, courtesy of his father. This was out of character and
Jackson had quipped that his father must have been impressed with Rory.

The ring had been Jackson’s grandmother’s. When Rory learned
that, she cried again. She knew what that meant to Jackson. He had spoken so
fondly of the times he had spent with his grandparents. He had mentioned them
that first day she spent with him in the antiques store.

It was beautiful, a five-carat diamond with three rows of
sapphires on either side. She was being very careful. “It’s just so beautiful.
Are you sure you want me wearing a family heirloom? What if something happens
to it?”

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine. I wouldn’t want you to have
anything less than a family heirloom.”

She leaned in and kissed him hard, her hands digging into
his hair.

His cell phone rang as she straddled his lap. It was sitting
on the seat beside him and they both looked down and saw the caller was
Secretary Reynolds.

“I better take this.”

Rory dismounted. She knew it wasn’t good when Jackson
blanched and stood, walking swiftly out of the seating area. All manner of
thoughts raced through her head.

After what felt like an eternity, Jackson emerged from the
back of the plane. He looked grim and pulled her onto his lap, squeezing her to
his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Rory whispered.

“There’s bad news, baby. I’m going to tell you, but I want
you to try to remain calm.”

Rory looked up at him, her palms against his chest. “What is
it?” she breathed, her stomach dropping to her knees.

“Early this morning, Agent Tagg was killed.”

Rory gasped. “What happened?”

“He was found dead in your condo. It appears he was stabbed
to death.”

The plane began to spin, not due to aerodynamics. Jackson
immediately set her on the sofa and shoved her head between her knees.

“Breathe, Rory. Just keep breathing.”

She was reeling. Motherfucker, she was reeling. What the
fuck was she going to do? That was supposed to have been her.

“Baby… Rory… Look at me,” Jackson demanded. He was on his
knees.

She looked at him, breathing hard. “Tell me…what he did to
him…”

“No, Rory. Look at me,” he demanded. “Breathe.” He cupped
her face with his hands.

“Tell me,” she repeated.

“I don’t want you this upset.”

She was haunted. “I have to know,” she whispered miserably.

Jackson smoothed the hair away from her face. He held her
cheeks as he looked back into her eyes. “This is not your fault. None of this
is. I don’t want you thinking you brought any of this on yourself or anyone
else. You couldn’t have known what Aidan or Roan Sullivan were about.”

She heard what he said. “Tell me what happened to Tagg.”

He blew out a hard breath. “His throat was slit, Rory.”

They were met at Ronald Reagan Private Arrivals by Secret
Service and were whisked back to Jackson’s condo. The day was gray and cold and
it suited the change in her mood. She was amazed at how quickly the wind was
sucked from her sails. She had gone from flying high to being thrown back into
the hell that was her real life.

They weren’t allowed into Rory’s condo, not that she wanted
to go. She looked at her door and noticed there was no police tape, nothing to
say that something horrible and sick had happened there. She entered Jackson’s
place and hovered as he and an agent carried in the luggage. They were
expecting Secretary Reynolds as well as the rest of the team for a debriefing.
She hovered some more after she and Jackson were left alone.

“Come sit on the couch with me,” he said, bringing a glass
of water. “You’re so pale.”

“I’ll be fine.” She took a sip and let him pull her to his
chest again. She loved being sheltered there. She smiled up at him, mostly
because she couldn’t stand that worried look on his face. This wonderful man
deserved to never worry. She looked down at her ring.

“What kind of wedding do you want to have?” he asked her
quietly.

She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. The question
caught her off guard, and she knew he was trying to cheer her. “I don’t know.”

“Well, let’s think. When do you want to get married?”

When all this bullshit is gone
. “I don’t know,” she
murmured again, laying her head back.

“It’s Valentine’s Day Thursday. Wanna get married Thursday?”

Her head shot up and she smirked at him. “You’re serious,
aren’t you?”

“Yep, damn serious.”

“No, we can’t get married Thursday.”

“Why not?”

She gently fondled her engagement ring, deep in thought. She
finally looked up at him.

“Because when I marry you, I want my friends and cousins
there. I want everybody to hear us say those vows.”

“Really?”

“Really. I want everyone to know that no matter what,
you
are what matters to me.”

His baby blues smiled into hers before he gently kissed her
lips.

They rested quietly in their own melancholy until the knock
on the door let them know that Homeland and the FBI had arrived. Jackson let
everybody in. The atmosphere was tense. They had lost one of their own. Rory
knew what that did to cops. They stood around, arms crossed, looking determined
and dogged. She sat forward, her back straight.

Secretary Reynolds spoke evenly and quietly. “In order to
debrief you. FBI Agent Steven Tagg was found about six this morning. He was
stabbed twelve times about the chest and upper back, and his neck was severed.
The instrument used was a ten-inch serrated knife from Congresswoman Morgan’s
kitchen. There have been no fingerprints or biometric material identified other
than that of victim, occupant, fiancé of occupant, and agents on scene. There
were no witnesses to any unlawful entry into the building. No perimeter
evidence was found. There was no forced entry.”

Everybody was silent and still. His name was Steven, Rory
thought. She hadn’t known that. She felt sick to her stomach. She had always
had contempt for Tagg for using her as he had in Cleveland. She guessed she
always felt he was somewhat responsible because of his willingness to put her
in harm’s way, and then not being around. And now he had lost his life because
of her. No, not because of her, Jackson’s reminder filled her head. She looked
up and listened to the conversation.

“We’ve alerted the secretary of state, the House speaker,
minority leader, CIA, and all the other appropriate agencies…”

Rory sat back, massaging her forehead. Great, now she was
everybody’s problem.

“We have nothing else but to believe that Sullivan and
Doward are out there, trying to get to the congresswoman,” Reynolds explained
in answer to a question posed by Jackson.

“And we have nothing on which to pick them up?”

“You know as well as I do, Congressman. They’ve committed no
crime on US soil that can be proven. International laws are insufficient for
what we have.”

“It’s not safe here. Rory shouldn’t be here,” Jackson
barked.

“Agreed.” Reynolds looked at her. “It’s time to go to a safe
place, Congresswoman.”

Rory blanched. The idea of leaving was completely
antithetical to her current mindset. Everything was different now. She was no
longer broken and numb. She was engaged to a wonderful man. She wanted to live
this life. She wasn’t going back.

“I’ll leave here, but I’m not going into hiding.”

Everybody was silent. Jackson finally spoke softly. “What do
you mean?”

Rory thought about things. Something didn’t sit right, but
she couldn’t put her finger on it. “I think this is one of the safest places to
be right now. That’s why I can’t stay.” She looked up at Secretary Reynolds. “I
don’t think they’ll risk coming back here now that they know authorities are
on-site. Do you?”

“No,” Reynolds said quietly.

She turned to Jackson. “This has to end. We can’t live life
looking over our shoulders. We should leave here, go somewhere else in DC and
keep living publicly. If Roan is crazy enough to kill a man in my home, he’ll
come after me again, right?”

“I don’t want him coming after you again, Rory. No more of
this. I won’t have you in danger.”

“Then how will this ever end? What are we to do, go into
witness protection?” She placed her hands on his arms. “Jackson, remember your
words? We’re building something that I want. I want to live our life. I want to
have a wedding with invited guests and I want to live in a house, married to
you. We can’t do that if we’re hiding from Roan Sullivan. We have to end this
somehow. This is the only way I see.”

“By having him come after you?”

“Unless we can think of something else.”

Jackson looked at Reynolds. “Is this the best Homeland and
the FBI can do to catch this guy?”

Reynolds answered grimly. “He’s a criminal enterprise. He
knows the laws as well as we do. She’s right. I don’t see another way. This guy
isn’t going to give us anything else to pick him up on.”

“So we just wait around for something else to happen?”
Jackson exclaimed, his voice angry.

Rory knew how that felt, the helplessness of not knowing
when or how things were going to end. That was her life three years ago and now
it was repeating. She looked down and noticed she was holding her left wrist
again. She immediately released it and looked at her engagement ring, drawing
strength. Not this time, she thought.

“Are you going public with the news of Tagg?” she asked.

The secretary answered grimly. “No. We weren’t going to
release the news of a federal agent’s death in the home of a member of
Congress.” He turned to Jackson. “Congressman, I understand your anger and fear
for the congresswoman. This situation is dire. But I believe the current
strategy is working. We could continue to draw them out and dare them to act.”

“That strategy has left one man dead, a highly trained
agent. I’m not looking to sacrifice my fiancée for this, Reynolds. I need to
take her far away from this and you need to get this handled any way you can.
There are other ways.”

Reynolds’s voice rose too. “I’m more angered than anyone
that we’ve lost a man. But now is not the time to change plans. We need to move
forward with more publicity.”

“More publicity! For Christ’s sake, Marty! Tagg is dead, his
fucking throat cut in Rory’s home! I’m not going to allow you to dangle her
like a carrot anymore. This is insanity. Is this the best the agency has to
offer? Because I have to tell you, I’m not impressed with how this is
proceeding at all.”

“Jackson, please,” she said calmly.

“No, Rory! No, this is it! I’ve never seen such lack of
planning in my life, sitting around waiting for something to happen, an agent
killed under their noses…”

“I know,” she said with such strange calm that Jackson stopped
and looked at her. “I’ve been here before, remember?” She looked to Secretary
Reynolds.

“We will protect the congresswoman, sir. We will apprehend
these fuckers…excuse me, ma’am.” Reynolds tried to regain control.

“I have some questions,” Rory declared calmly.

“Ma’am.” Reynolds steeled himself.

“How was it that Tagg was alone in my condo? I thought there
were to be two-man teams at all times?”

“Yes, ma’am. But with you and the congressman in Maine, we
cut back to only one.”

“I see.” She thought for a moment. “How do you think Roan
entered my condo then? You said no forced entry.”

“We suspect the door must have been unlocked.”

“Isn’t that strange? That door’s kept locked. They even
track it in their logs, I’ve seen them.”

“There may have been a moment, an anomaly that we can’t
account for. It happens. Perhaps he took the garbage out and forgot to lock
it.”

“Wouldn’t that be in the log? What about the security
cameras?” They all looked at her. “I just wonder how my door is continuously
breached without force, and the security cameras capture nothing. Like the
night the box appeared, or even the two times prior to my contacting Tagg. Does
Roan Sullivan have a key?”

Manus piped up. “The locks were changed, remember,
Congresswoman? And we’re not sure how, but they’re averting the cameras.”

She looked at him. “This just doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense,” Jackson sneered. “This can’t go
on.” He turned to Rory. “Fuck this. You’re not staying here anymore. We’ll go
away until things settle down.”

Secretary Reynolds implored him. “Congressman, we should
maintain appearances. Now they know the authorities are involved. The
congresswoman is right. If you go into hiding, we’ll miss our chance to end
this.”

“Seems to me you’ve missed a couple good chances,” Jackson
shot back. “We’re going.”

Rory looked at Jackson as he finally met the end of his
rope. Seeing that his patience was gone, she considered the situation.

“I’ll do an interview.” They looked at her. Jackson was
impatient and Reynolds weary.

“What’s that going to accomplish?” Jackson barked.

“An interview?” Reynolds asked, ignoring him.

Rory looked at him and swallowed her fear. “I’ve never
spoken of the incident three years ago…about what Aidan Sullivan actually did
to me and my father.” She looked down and swallowed hard, not believing what
she was saying. She looked up again, her gaze steely. “But I could do an
interview. Maybe if I discuss some of it, Roan will seek to silence me. It
would disparage his brother and their family.”

There was astonished silence. She turned to Jackson. “Let’s
stay at the InterContinental. They know we’ve stayed there before, remember?
We’ll stay there and I’ll set up an interview right away. If you’re all
correct, and my forward momentum is what angers Roan and galvanizes him into
action, then let’s anger him. Please, Jackson, we need this ended.”