Knight (Political Royalty Book 1) Read Free Page A

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    “Sit down, sit down,” he said, urging the older man back to his seat and taking the only other chair in the room for himself. “It’s good to see you.”
    “Your daddy didn’t tell me you were coming. How long you here for?”
    “Just for the day. I’m on my way back to DC actually, but I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”
    “I’m glad you did.” Jones had been around Shep’s father long enough to know not to ask too many questions. If he wanted to know what Shep was doing stopping at the Governor’s Mansion for the day, he didn’t let it show. Given the way his father conducted his personal life, he imagined Jones’s discretion had even more value than his ability to make sure mac and cheese and she-crab soup made it onto the governor’s dinner menu with regularity.
    “How’s that grandson of yours?”
    “Good,” he said after a pause. “He ships out next month.”
    “I didn’t know he’d joined the service. Which branch?” He leaned back in his chair, trying to keep the concern out of his expression. The last he’d heard, Jones’s grandson had graduated from high school with honors and was headed to college.
    “Navy. He started looking at student loans and figured the GI Bill was a better deal. He’s been stationed in Norfolk since last June, but he’s headed to the Gulf next month.” Jones said it with a mixture of pride and worry and Shep didn’t know how to respond. He’d done too many tours through Moncrief Hospital and seen the broken men and women who’d come back home after serving to ignore the risk. But if the kid was already on his path, there was no way he’d add to the older man’s worry with anything other than positive wishes.
    “Sounds like a smart young man. When he gets to school, he’ll hit the ground running and employers love that kind of experience. You must be proud of him,” said Shep, praying he sounded convincing. He spoke the truth, but the risks weren’t insignificant. It could just as easily go horribly wrong.
    Jones smiled at him, the worry line in his brow smoothing out. “I am that. How are those beautiful children of yours?”
    “Growing like weeds,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his phone.
    He opened the most recent picture of his two daughters in their dance recital costumes and handed the phone to the other man. “Claire is going to be nine next month and Sarah just turned seven.” The girls were miniature blonde copies of their momma in everything but temperament. Where Sandra was calculating and obsessed with appearances, the girls were fairy-like free spirits, bubbling over with love.
    “Lord,” said Jones. “Those girls are every bit as pretty as their momma.”
    Shep adored his children, and if he had any real hesitation about running for president, it was over what it would cost them. He didn’t have to worry about his wife. For Sandra, there wasn’t a better accessory than the title of first lady. She’d jump at the chance to be the closest thing America had to a queen, but his kids were still so young.
    Sandra might not give a shit about him, but she’d been a decent mother. Too caught up in appearances, but she came by it honestly. Her family was as old and as well-established as his. She’d been raised on the importance of reputations. Given the spotlight they lived under, it didn’t seem fair to complain. Between the two of them, they should be able to protect their children from the worst of the public scrutiny. Growing up Walkers, it wasn’t like they were going to get to be anonymous anyway. And if he won the presidency, he could nudge his party toward a real food security policy for a change. One that would make it possible to put an actual dent in world hunger instead of kicking the can down the road for his daughters’ generation and their children to have to deal with. Haven Graham could help him win.
    “Where’d you go?” asked Jones, his dark eyes shining with concern as he