13. Spencer

CHAPTER 13

SPENCER

"I'll be in touch. I gotta track down Caroline about my job and the apartment. You should think about what's next for you, Spence. We've done nothing to be ashamed of, and I'd rather we keep it that way. You're a good man, and Vanessa is a wonderful woman. I know you love each other, but it's time to decide what kind of love you two have." Nash was in preacher mode. I could hear a sermon from a mile away.

I started to jump in, but he wasn't finished yet. "I won't be another Blaire Conner. I don't roll that way, and I don't think you're comfortable having another down-low relationship either. We're all adults here. It's time we made adult decisions."

My SUV idled at the curb of his apartment building near George Washington University's campus. He reached over and squeezed my right hand that was resting on the console before he opened the door and hopped out. He hauled out his duffel, giving me a sexy wink before he closed the door.

Stunned was a word to describe my current mood. I thought we were making headway, Nash and I, but it sounded to me as if he was pulling away.

Why, though? I had to know what Vani said to him before I returned from showering, so I shifted my SUV into drive and headed back over the river and out the GW Parkway toward home.

Just as I was about call Vani, my Bluetooth buzzed through the speakers. I glanced at the dash to see it was Mario, so I accepted the call. "Hey, Mario. What's up?"

"Guess who called you? Give up? Frank Turner. He's out of the hospital, and he wants to see you," Mario informed.

Another revelation wasn't what I needed. "He wants to—? Why?"

"Wouldn't say. He only wants to talk with you . Should I call him back and schedule a time?" Mario didn't give away his thoughts on the matter. He was careful that way.

I almost said that I should talk to Vani first—that was usually my go-to answer, but maybe it was time I started handling things by myself? Maybe that was the direction my life was headed? Vani needed a chance at happiness, and the life we were trying to live was a huge lie, which now, everyone knew. She'd been loyal to me through the chaos, but was that good for her?

"Tell him I'm in the area and can drop by now. What's his address?" I knew the Turners lived in Potomac, but I didn't know where.

Mario rattled off an address, and I pulled over to plug it into my GPS. After we ended the call, I exited the Parkway and headed toward the Beltway to find the large colonial hidden in a gated community where the Turners called home.

After I showed my identification to the guard, I was allowed to enter through the massive iron gates. I wound my way through the exclusive neighborhood that made Great Falls look like a trailer park. I found 3 Patriot Way, which seemed aptly named, considering the neighborhood probably gave off a red-white-and-blue glow at night, what with all the flags flying from large poles outside the mansions.

Don't get me wrong, if someone were to cut me, I would bleed red-white-and blue because I loved my country—or the ideal of what my country could be. What I didn't love were dishonest politicians, which, I supposed now included me in many people's eyes.

I parked on the circle drive of the huge brick colonial with four large columns across the front porch. There was a massive brass light fixture hanging from the ceiling that could kill someone if it fell, and the mat at the front door didn't say welcome.

I rang the bell, and about a minute later, a woman in a grey uniform with a white apron opened the door. "Good evening," she greeted with an accent unfamiliar to me.

"Hello, I'm Spencer Brady. I believe the Senator is expecting me."

She nodded and opened the large door, sweeping her hand to invite me inside. The house was quite formal, which was expected. I was surprised to see some fall decorations on display, along with a grand pumpkin on the octagonal marble table in the entrance.

"May I take your coat, Senator?"

Glancing down, I saw the leather bomber and the jeans I'd pulled on when I was rushing to get to Nash. I was so fucked up over what happened when Nash was getting out of the SUV that I doubted I should have gone to see Turner, but I needed answers, and something in the back of my mind told me he was the key.

The beginning of an idea formed in my mind about what I wanted my future to look like as I attempted to rebuild my life. Of course, I couldn't begin to pursue any of it until I knew who was responsible for exposing my folly. Turner likely knew who, which was why I was there.

I took off my jacket and handed it to the woman who smiled pleasantly. "The Senator is waiting in his study. Right this way." She gently laid my jacket on a bench and led me down a hallway. She knocked on the door, and we both heard the familiar bark, " In !"

The woman rolled her eyes, and I chuckled in solidarity that the man was an insufferable bag of wind. The woman slid the pocket doors open, and I walked inside, hearing them slide closed behind me. I had no idea how long she'd worked for the Turners, but I wished her the best of fucking luck.

I glanced around the room as I waited for the Senator to turn the large leather chair to face me. He was sorting through a leather folio as best I could tell, so I stood like a good boy and waited to be invited to sit.

The leather book slammed shut, and Turner spun in his chair to face me, tossing the volume on his desk, which made a booming echo in the room. "Sit, Brady, Sit, sit, sit." Turner wasn't known for his patience.

I took a seat in the honey-colored, leather chair across from the desk, staring into the bulldog-like face of Frank Turner. His wire-framed glasses were low on his bulbous nose, and his perma-scowl was solidly in place. "Good to see you up and around. My chief-of-staff said you wanted to see me."

I crossed a loafer-clad foot over my knee. He made me nervous, but I'd learned a long time ago never to show it. The old bastard thrived on fear.

"Yes, Brady, uhhh?" Turner opened the folio again and flopped three pictures across the desk to me. I picked them up, seeing my white ass as it had been on the front of numerous newspapers and online rags, though this time, it wasn't blurred. I had to admit, it wasn't a bad ass, as middle-aged asses went. The running and weight training helped a lot.

"Yes, Senator, I'm familiar with these photos. Are you going to confess you were the one to send someone to Antigua to photograph me with someone who wasn't my wife? Oh, congratulations. I heard it's a girl. " I bit out the words, adding as much sarcasm to my voice as he'd used the day he tried to dress me down for voting against him. Two could play that fucking game.

"Yes, uh-hum. We all have our skeletons, don't we? Anyway, how do you know, uhhhh, oh, here it is. Gregor Jablonowski? Do you know this person?" Turner's thick eyebrows were raised as he questioned me.

I thought for a minute, but nothing pinged in my grey matter. "No, I don't. Who is he?" Never heard the name before in my life.

"A freelance photographer who was dispatched to Antigua to follow you. He told my man he was tipped off by someone in your office who wanted proof of your infidelity to show your wife in hopes it would end your career.

"It wasn't me, but I've never been above using information that came my way to cast doubt on an adversary. In this particular situation, I wasn't involved in this blatant act of potential blackmail. My question for you is, who in your office would give information to someone regarding your schedule such that a photographer would know exactly where you'd be staying in Antigua and who you'd be with during your stay?" Turner questioned me in that condescending way that he always addressed junior senators.

The fact he'd put such a fine point on things was unsettling. I wouldn't allow my mind to wander in Mario's direction again. How many times could I accuse the poor bastard of something that even I couldn't believe he'd do? It had to be someone else.

"And how do you know this?" I needed any breadcrumbs he might have to track down that Jablow-whoever person. I didn't know a private investigator, but I remembered Nash saying he could check things out for me.

Maybe he had connections? That biker guy looked like he knew his way around the underbelly of society. It was worth a call. Honestly, it was a reason to call.

I got home to find a note from Vani that she went to bed early because of a headache, so I went into the family room and sat in my recliner to think things through.

Unsure of exactly what Nash meant when he said we had some decisions to make, I tried to see things from his perspective. I concluded that if I stayed on the sidelines, the handsome young man would decide I was too much trouble and run away. I really needed to consider why I'd become so attached to a guy I had met a week before.

In my mind, I should have been worried about that attachment, but those weren't the thoughts that went through my mind when thoughts of Nash Lincoln danced through my head. Those images were more of a lascivious nature.

I went to the kitchen to make a drink and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the junk drawer before sitting by the island to consider my options. Dating back to high school, I'd always been a better learner with visual aids. In law school, the small apartment Vani and I shared was filled with dry-erase boards so I could parse through case law to learn the way our justice system worked, and when I took the bar exam, I knew the law inside and out.

Part of me urged to let shit go regarding the defeat I'd suffered due to the involuntary outing and those fucking pictures. What would I gain by tracking down the people or persons who ruined my life?

The likelihood there would be any form of justice won was next to nothing. Hadn't enough damage been done already?

The other part of me shouted that someone had to pay for the pain and suffering of my family. My son walked around camps wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses, so nobody recognized him. My wife had been told not to come to work until her personal life was sorted, which meant until she'd filed for divorce. It was a fucking mess and someone should be held accountable, right?

My phone buzzed on the table—the burner phone I'd started using since I'd turned in my government phone. I picked it up to see it was an unexpected text from Nash.

I hope I didn't upset you earlier, but I want to do the right thing here. You and Vani are amazing people, and you've both been through so much already. I don't want to contribute to the chaos surrounding your lives. NL

I thought about how to respond because I didn't want him to blame himself for anything. I'd already acted like a jealous asshole when he introduced us to his friend, the biker. I was learning that when it came to Nash, I had a hard time acting rationally.

Instead of texting him something that could be misconstrued, I decided to call. It barely rang before it was answered.

"Hi, Spence." Nash's voice was soft and a bit groggy sounding.

"I didn't wake you, did I? It's only… Oh!" I looked at my watch to see it was nearly eleven. I'd been sitting in the kitchen, nursing a double scotch for a lot longer than I thought.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so late. I can call you tomorrow." I prayed he didn't hang up.

There was a rustling through the line and then a quiet sigh. "No, I was having a hard time falling asleep. I thought you'd get my text in the morning. What did you do after you let me out? I didn't even thank you for the ride. I'm so sorry, Spence. It was nice of you to follow me out to the airport and bring me home. I wanted to ask you up, but I thought, under the circumstances, it was a bad idea. I don't want someone getting the wrong idea, you know?"

It was my turn to sigh. "At this point, I don't think there's a wrong idea to get. Look, I realize things are fucked up right now, but I want to get to know you, Nash. I know you don't like to talk about your past, but I promise, I won't judge you. If it's too painful to tell me, I understand, but I want us to get to know each other." I hoped my desperation for more contact with him wasn't obvious in my voice.

If he was worried about being seen with me in public, then we could slow things down and do it the old-fashioned way. I had no problem with taking our time if it meant there might be something at the end of the rainbow.

"Okay, so what's your favorite way to relax?" Nash sounded more awake.

I chuckled as I stood from the table and turned off the light in the kitchen, untucking my shirt as I walked down the hallway to the den and spread out on the couch. It was cool in the house, so I turned on the gas logs in the fireplace and pulled down the throw from the back of the chair.

"Uh, plop my ass on the couch in the den with the fireplace on and a blanket over me. In the summer, I love to sit outside as the sun goes down. I used to like to read, but it's been so long since I really got to read for fun, I almost don't remember how." My mind spun to think of my own questions to ask.

Thankfully, Nash spoke without me asking anything. "I have dyslexia, so learning to read was a struggle for me, and I still dislike it. I like to listen to podcasts to learn about different things." Nash's voice sounded thoughtful and younger than usual. He carried himself with such maturity I often forgot how young he really was—though, I didn't really know the number for sure.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven. You're forty-five, right?" I was surprised at his response. I'd thought he was at least thirty. That was something I should have been worried about, but I couldn't find it in myself to care.

"Yes, I am. Does the age thing bother you?"

I heard that deep chuckle that got my blood running, and I returned it, feeling like a giddy teen talking to his crush. I'd had many of them back in high school, but of course, I never acted on them. I probably wouldn't be alive if I had.

"Naw. I'm generally attracted to older people anyway. More interesting stories to tell. Guys my age are usually limited to who they fucked, how many times they fucked, and how fast they were able to get away after the last time they fucked.

"Women want commitment and exclusivity on the first date. I can't operate that way, usually," Nash explained.

That caught my attention. I didn't know he was bisexual, and then I wondered if maybe he was interested in Vani, not me. "I, uh, I guess I didn't know you were bi. Do you prefer dating one gender over the other?" I struggled to get my goddamn libido under control.

If he was more interested in Vani, I'd back off. She was asexual, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a relationship. Of course, I'd take my leave to give them a chance. I loved her—not romantically—so I knew firsthand how easy she was to love.

Nash cleared his throat, and I braced myself for his response, which would probably break my heart. "Vani and I have discussed sexuality, but I guess she didn't tell you. I'm bi, and I don't really prefer sex with one gender over the other. It's got more to do with the person than it does with the parts."

Relief flooded my body at first, but then I realized his answer didn't give away whether he was attracted to me. "Have you dated a lot since you've come to town?"

Nash chuckled. "Not at all. I've been working two jobs. Why don't you ask the question you really want to ask?"

"That guy, Denver? Did you date him?" Apparently, it was bothering me more than I was willing to admit to even myself.

Nash flat-out laughed. "Denver is a great guy, but he's definitely not my type. He and my best friend were involved. I wasn't cut out for life in a motorcycle club, but my best friend, Clint, loved it, and he and Denver were attracted to each other at first sight. I never believed falling in love could happen like that until I saw the two of them together. Man, were there sparks when they met. I was happy for Clint because he deserved every good thing coming his way." The nostalgia in his voice was sweet.

"Did they date for a while?"

Nash snorted. "I went with them on their first date—I didn't know it was a date at the time—and we were eating barbecue at an outdoor beer garden when an old country song played over the speakers. Denny stood and walked around the picnic table, bowing to Clint. The whole place went silent.

"Clint was extremely shy, and he asked me what the hell Denny was doing. Before I could respond, Denver said, ‘I wanted to ask if you'd be kind enough to give me this dance.' Later that night, Clint and I were sharing a room at the clubhouse, and he said, ‘Denver told me he loved me. I think that's just about perfect.' It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard." I could hear the memory was still important to him. It touched me as well.

"Are they still together?" I asked, caught up in the sweetness of the story. I could relate to that biker guy if my heart and my head could ever come to terms.

I heard a sniffle, which alerted me I wouldn't like the answer. "No. Clint patched into the club after I moved on. Denny called me one night to let me know he'd been killed in an accident. Driver of a semi fell asleep behind the wheel. Clint was riding the new Harley that Denver had custom made for his birthday. He was killed instantly, from what Denver told me." Nash sniffled again.

Hell, I had tears in my eyes, and I longed to hold him and let him cry on my shoulder until he was all cried out. After, I'd wrap him in my arms while he slept.

That fantasy was so real I could almost reach out for it. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry to hear that you lost your friend. Is it an anniversary time, or something? Is it why that guy came to see you?" I had to know why the guy turned up when he did.

Nash cleared his throat. "Actually, he's doing a favor for me. He's one of those people I don't have to talk to all the time. If I ever need him to do something, he's there in a heartbeat. Everyone in the club is like that."

"What… Uh, what's the club, if you can tell me?" I knew zilch about motorcycle clubs, but I'd at least search for it to see if they were criminals. Hell, I had a few friends in certain organizations who could run a check on them.

That might be the best way to handle it. If they were bad news, then I'd just look out for Nash as best I could. I didn't want anything to happen to him. He was becoming too important to me.