High Stakes Read Free

once.
    “Mr. O’Neil, how’s your brother-in-law feeling about being president?”
    Acting president
, Dylan wanted to say, but had been told not to engage the press.
    “How’s your sister handling this?”
    “Do you think she’d like being First Lady?”
    His gaze zeroed in on one member in the group, off to the side. Dressed in a beige coat with a dark green scarf looped around her neck—he bet it highlighted her eyes—Rachel Scott stood watching him. Her expression was neutral and he matched it. Then he dismissed her. He had more important things to deal with, and besides, he now knew the bent for betrayal that lurked beneath that pretty exterior.
    Quickly, two Secret Service agents flanked him and they moved as a group to the front of the townhouse. Again, these were agents he didn’t know, since the two who’d allowed Rachel to slip by them had been dismissed. Just another thing to feel guilty about.
    He found his sister in the living room, on the phone when he entered the condo.
    Mitch Calloway handed him a cup of black coffee. “Thanks for coming with us, Dylan. I know she feels better having you along.”
    “Goes without saying.” He took a sip of the strong brew. “Mmm, good.”
    Bailey disconnected and approached them. Her pretty blue eyes were muddy with fatigue, which tugged at his heart and called forth his protective instincts. “Hey, Dyl. I appreciate you coming. Who knows when Clay will be back home?” Though Clay had called, he was still being briefed on his new role in the country and any changes that had to be made in his personal life.
    “We’re family. I’d do anything for you.”
    “I know.”
    “Was that Clay?”
    “No. He’s embroiled in preparation for the swearing-in to take over as acting president.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
    “How’s Langley? I saw on the morning news that he’s awake and waiting surgery.”
    “Yes. But I’m not sure why there’s a delay. Abdominal aneurysms can cause death, Dyl.”
    Reaching out he grabbed Bailey’s hand. It was cold. “People survive those, honey. Liam looked everything up on the internet last night.”
    “I know. Mitch did a search, too, and made me read all the information.”
    Before he could respond, two whirlwinds ran into the living room. “Uncle Dylan,” seven-year-old Rory shouted, throwing himself at Dylan.
    On his heels was two-year-old Angel. She was the spitting image of Clay, with lighter hair and his hazel eyes. “Unca Dylan,” she mimicked her brother.
    His mom, Mary Kate O’Neil, who’d stayed with Bailey last night, entered with three-month-old Tyler. In her seventies, tall and slender, his ma’s white hair highlighted the blue of her eyes. “Dylan, my boy. Nice of you to do this.”
    After hugs and greetings, Mitch approached them. “Ready to go, Ms. O’Neil?”
    Bailey nodded. “I wish we didn’t have to face the maddening crowd.”
    “The second team is keeping them back, but reporters will yell at you just the same.” Mitch moved in closer.
    “Freedom of the press,” Dylan quipped.
    “Yeah,” Bailey groused. “Whoever thought
that
was a good idea?”
    At least Bailey could joke. Last night, when the men in black whisked Clay away, she’d been stalwart…
    “You go, Clay. The kids are asleep at the townhouse and I’m not waking them up for a midnight ride in Air Force One.” They’d sent the presidential helicopter to get Clay.
    “I hate to leave you alone. And to travel by yourself with the little ones.”
    “You’ll be sequestered, anyway.” She’d given Clay a brave smile. “And I won’t be by myself. I’ll have my Secret Agents with me.” The patriarch of the O’Neil family, Paddy, still called the service by the nickname he’d given them.
    “And me.” Dylan had made the decision on the spot. “I’ll come to D.C. for a while so she has family with her…”
    Bailey’s face had filled with gratitude. And not a bit of surprise. Family supported