At Risk of Winning (The Max Masterson Series Book 1) Read Free

themselves by the number of books they possessed. he called it a den, but it was really a research facility with wireless access to a state of the art mind-controlled computer, where he could display results on a large holographic screen situated on the opposite wall of the room.
    Despite the room’s ability to allow him to focus on his millions of thoughts and ideas, the sound of a baby’s tiny voice was enough to direct his attention to his new son. he pulled the young boy from his crib and held him close, feeling the warm pounding of his heart against his chest. Even though Max was an infant, he had already learned how to get the attention of a retired United States senator, a task at which older and mightier men had never succeeded when he was on the hill. Little Max had bonded with the nanny from the first day, and when he wasn’t being fed or bathed by the nanny, he was with the lovely Adrianna.
    “Just when I need her, my girlfriend takes off to visit her mother,” he commented to the baby, who was gleefully pulling his hair. Adrianna was more than a girlfriend, and if she had heard his description of her place in his life, there would have been hell to pay, but he was confident that Max wouldn’t tattle. A certified teacher, she spent several hours each day with the little boy, who already displayed high intelligence. At eighteen months, the little manipulator constantly sought the comfort of his new father and his alluring companion. When the nanny and Adrianna weren’t around, the senator assumed parenting duties of the little boy by default.
    “Did you miss me?” he looked down at the little guy, who smiled at the sound of his voice. “You heard me working, didn’t you?” he carried him tenderly down the hall and placed him on his lap in front of the screen. Before them flashed images of colorful Sesame Street characters, who talked directly to the little boy conjured from the senator’s previously stored memory. “hi, Max!” said Ernie. Max laughed, clapped his hands in delight, and immediately threw up in the lap of his esteemed father. As the fetid liquid dripped from his lap onto the ornate Persian rug, the senator jumped up and ran in search of a towel, holding his baby boy in front of him at arm’s length. As he dashed down the hall toward the pantry, Max giggled at the game he had created.
    “What do they use to clean this stuff up? Powder? No! The white bottle!” he sniffed, and the ammonia fumes nearly took his head off. “That ought to do.” he placed Max in his crib and ran down the hall to the waiting mess. The leak on the leather chair was easy to wipe away. It was the puddle on the rug that took some rubbing. he poured more of the liquid onto the stain.
    u
    The next morning, when the nanny arrived to assume her matronly duties, she found the old man in his bathrobe, the little boy asleep in his arms in the plush leather recliner of the den. The boy’s head rested against his chest. She looked down at the white oval on the rug and shook her head. That spot won’t be coming out anytime soon, she thought, shaking her head. Tenderly, she pulled Max from his father’s arms, while the senator slept in apparent bliss. After his son left his arms, his forehead creased. A bad dream again, she thought as she stared at the screen in front of the recliner. Images of men in identical suits, milling in the Senate chamber with angry faces, filled the screen. She tiptoed back to the nursery, the little boy sleeping openmouthed, his head on her breast.

u ChAPTER FOUR
    In the plush comfort of the recliner, Masterson’s mind slipped back to the Washington years. The dream was as clear as if it was happening in real life. The voices were distinct, and the colorful details of the setting were real. The monitor flickered for a moment, and then the scene was vividly displayed on the screen before him, recorded from his brain waves. The neural monitor was still monitoring his brain waves in his sleep,