No Corner to Hide (The Max Masterson Series Book 2) Read Free Page B

senator as “Little Lady,” much to Scarlett’s eternal embarrassment. In private though, he referred to her as “that manipulating,
scene-stealin’ bitch.”
As the oldest living member of Skull and Cross, Senator Simpson
treated Scarlett with polite disdain in public and with vituperous
contempt over bourbon and cigars among his peers. Their relationship was cordial in public, as that was expected of elected officials in
South Carolina. In private, the cotillion-like atmosphere had quickly
dissolved into mutual disdain for the remainder of Scarlett’s Senate
career. Scarlett was denied access to Simpson’s private world of back
room deals and the privileges of his male world.
While Scarlett was the prototypical female politician, Max didn’t
fit any of the molds that had shaped the political careers of any of
his male counterparts. He had no political career, and he held the
deeply ingrained view that the President of the United States should
not be a politician.
The election wasn’t much of a contest. The incumbent president,
Warren Blythe, had been carried from the final debate, raving like a
madman. In a moment, there was only one person to be president.
The popular vote of the citizens had voted Max Masterson into office,
and Scarlett was his surprise running mate. He had literally stolen her
from a probable third-place finish after being rejected by her party’s
elite, and she was the best choice to balance the ticket. A man who
had never held political office had been elected to the presidency
for the first time since Dwight Eisenhower. At least Eisenhower had
been a general. Scarlett had been a United States Senator. Max wasn’t even a politician.
He had only been trained to be one thing in life; President of the
United States of America. Scarlett was the Vice-President-elect of
the United State of America, and she was a diligent public servant
without peer. She was the first woman to reach that pinnacle, and
she was better-qualified than Max to be President. He knew that,
too, and it had become a private joke between them. Scarlett had
done everything right, but her gender was a God-given impediment
in politics. Politics is, and has always been, a boy’s club. Max, on the opposite end of the political barometer, was a renegade, and that made the political establishment perch on the edge of
incontinence. He was the President-elect whether they liked it or not,
and in his irreverent way, the political world of Washington, DC, was
about to be turned on its ego-swelled head. Max and Scarlett had
the potential to transform the executive branch in ways that would
become the new standard that America would follow for generations,
but for now, they were just President-elect and Vice-President elect.
    u

CHAPTER 4
    F
    or the moment, the control center of the presidency consisted of the kitchen and den of the Masterson estate, Fairlane. The large, antique, oak table was strewn with laptops, iPads, and file folders. The paper files had been delivered by courier from some
    nameless government department that presides over the transition from one administration to the next, and they were marked with time-worn labels of the past.
    Max thumbed through one 300 page binder marked “Ambassadorships,” but he rapidly lost interest when he realized that the protocol for choosing ambassadors was directly linked to the size of the contributions that were made to political campaigns. His philosophy was fresh and untried, but he knew it would work: The ambassadors of the United States would be visible negotiators, who had been trained as mediators and excelled at their craft. They would represent what is right about America, and they would be charged with the responsibility of providing the world with what they craved most: to be American. The goods and styles, music and movie stars, cars and planes, technology and ideas—all crafted with quality and innovation—were the products that Americans would sell to the