The Next President by Joseph Flynn Read Free Book Online

much of a soft touch for his own good. He—” Vandy caught herself, realizing she was talking out of turn to a complete stranger.
    “It doesn’t matter, really. That man actually still has his title, special agent in charge, but he’s effectively been left with nothing to do.
    Of course, maybe that’s why he was trying to mess up the biggest coup I—” She caught herself again and apologized to J. D. “I guess I’m really wound up right now, that’s all.” She paused and forced her smile to return.
    “Now, did I hear you say something about making a contribution?”
    J. D. raised his checkbook.
    “I thought I’d donate ten thousand dollars to the cause.”
    Vandy Ellison beamed—and she told him for just fifteen thousand more he could be invited to a very special performance that Marva would be giving at her Bel-Air home for Del. And, of course, Del would be there as the guest of honor.
    J. D. looked up from the check he was writing.
    “Am I pushing too hard?” Vandy asked with the same impish grin she’d showed him before.
    “I’ll let you know when I get uncomfortable,” J. D. replied. He signed his name to the check.
    “The thing is, with apologies to you and Ms. Weisman, my taste in music lies elsewhere.”
    He handed the check to Vandy Ellison and she accepted both his ten thousand dollars and his decision with good grace. She noticed the Santa Barbara address on the check and commented on how beautiful it was up there.
    “Would you mind if I put you on our mailing list?” Vandy asked.
    “That would be fine, but I should give you my new address. I’ve just moved to L.A.” He gave her the address of the house he was leasing.
    Vandy jotted it down, looking like an angler who’d just landed a trophy catch.
    “Well, that’s nice,” she said.
    “You’re so nearby, maybe we’ll see each other again.”
    She had the savvy to let matters rest there. As she opened the door to her office for J. D.” she suggested that he might like to leave by the rear exit.
     
    “Why would I … oh, our frowning friend? Never let someone like that see you’re afraid of him,” he counseled Vandy.
    The disgraced agent still sat at his desk. He picked up on J. D. and Vandy as soon as they left her office. Vandy pointedly avoided meeting his gaze;
    J. D. took it in and returned it without concern or challenge. He might have been looking at a potted plant.
    “You forgot your nails,” DeVito said in a flat voice just as they were about to pass him.
    Vandy stopped and impaled the man with a frigid look.
    “I beg your pardon.”
    “Not you, him.” He nodded to where J. D. stood.
    “Guy like you, he needs his nails done to complete the look.”
    Now there was an element of challenge in the stare the two men exchanged.
    Then J. D. shrugged and said, “My manicurist died… but thanks for caring.”
    Vandy laughed wickedly, and DeVito turned to glare at her, his face flushed with anger. He pushed back from his desk and stormed past them.
    Vandy took J. D.‘s arm again and he felt her brush a breast against it in a way that was too emphatic to be accidental.
    “Oh, my,” she said, still chuckling.
    “You don’t know how much good that did me.” She walked him to the elevator bank, waited for a car to arrive, and held his hand in both of hers before letting him go.
    J. D. left the building keeping a discreet eye out to see if Special Agent Formerly in Charge DeVito was lurking about watching him, but he didn’t see the angry fed anywhere. Still, he couldn’t help but feel he’d made an unnecessary enemy.
    He also wondered if he’d made a mistake by not accepting the invitation to the diva’s private party. But he hadn’t wanted to appear too eager. The best way to achieve his goal, he felt, was to have the campaign reach out to him.
    To embrace him.
    And since every political campaign was a mainline money-junkie—even one so recently threatened by an assassin—he was sure he’d be hearing from the