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  “Claire is taking the lead in that department.”

  Cassidy poked at her cheek with her tongue. Alex’s revelation was not earth-shattering news. She was no more surprised at Alex’s news than she had been when Alex announced she was returning to the FBI a year earlier. She was neither keen on the idea of Alex immersing herself in the world of espionage, nor was she opposed to it. She was aware of the risks Alex’s announcement carried—for everyone.

  “Cass—”

  “We both know that you can’t guarantee me that you won’t get sucked into this.”

  “I don’t have any plans to run off and—”

  “If you’ve agreed to this, you’ve done that because you think there is a need for you to go back.”

  Alex sighed.

  “Claire,” Cassidy began.

  “Claire agrees.”

  “Claire wouldn’t need to agree to jump back into this mess. We both know it. She’s bored. And, if you are completely honest with yourself, you’re bored too.”

  “I’m not doing this out of boredom,” Alex said.

  “No, I’m sure that’s true. Relieving the frustration that you’ve felt at the bureau is a bonus—isn’t it?”

  “If I can help, I need to help.”

  “I know. Please don’t pretend that this is the same as walking into a classroom, Alex, or even that it’s like the investigations you’ve conducted at the FBI. We both know this is something much darker.”

  “I won’t take any unnecessary risks. That includes where Claire is concerned.”

  Cassidy chuckled. “I hope you intend to tie yourself to her.”

  “What?”

  “Alex, I love you. I love Claire. Claire is not going to do things your way. You know that as well as I do.”

  “She’s not reckless the way she used to be.”

  Cassidy nodded.

  “Are you worried that she’ll fall back into her old life?”

  “No,” Cassidy dismissed the thought. “I know she will take more risks than either of us want her to take.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  Alex laughed. “Okay. Point taken. She is an excellent agent, Cass.”

  “I don’t care how excellent she is, Alex.”

  “I know that too,” Alex admitted.

  “Tell me this much, do you think Candace is in danger?”

  “Physically? No. Not now. No more than any president on any given day.”

  “But?”

  “She’s at risk of being compromised, Cass.”

  “Politically?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll assume you’ll be spending more time away?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Cassidy was confused.

  “I don’t have plans to leave the FBI.”

  “Right now,” Cassidy said.

  Alex wished she could tell Cassidy that the time would never come when she would leave the bureau. Being an FBI agent carried risks. Working as a clandestine agent could be perilous. “Jonathan will keep me in the loop from Carecom. I’ll use my credentials as needed. The FBI is a treasure trove of information. It makes sense for one of us to stay put.”

  “And, Claire?”

  Alex closed her eyes. “Things have been set in motion.”

  “What things?”

  “Cass—”

  “We agreed a long time ago—no secrets. Spill it.”

  “Claire worked alongside the SVR for years. She was closer than anyone I know except—”

  “My father.”

  “Yes.”

  Cassidy’s jaw grew taut.

  “Cass, I—”

  “No, you’re right. Do you think he can help you?” Cassidy asked.

  “He can help Claire.”

  “How can he do that?”

  “Cass, your father is the only person who knew about O’Brien’s true alliance—the only person who even suspected it.”

  “You mean that Chris was working for Russia.”

  “I do. Claire has contacts, so does El. Your father has influence.”

  Cassidy held up her hand. She accepted Alex’s decision to help Candace. She did not want to talk about her father’s past. She didn’t want to revisit her marriage to Congressman Christopher O’Brien. Those subjects conjured painful memories that she’d fought to banish. Somehow, life always conspired to wake them. “I don’t want to know.”

  “I’m not asking you to talk to him,” Alex said. “I need you to know that talking to your father is something I have to do.”

  “Because you need his help or because you’ve never been satisfied with his answers?”

  Alex made no reply. It wasn’t only her father-in-law’s story about Christopher O’Brien that troubled her. She had never accepted Jim McCollum’s explanation of his past, of the life he’d led in Siberia, or the reasons he’d left his family behind as the complete truth. There were countless holes in his story. Until now, Alex had been content to leave the holes empty. She’d be lying if she told Cassidy that she hadn’t pondered what McCollum had deliberately left out. She never lied to Cassidy.

  Cassidy shook her head. “Do you think he’s been lying to us all this time?”

  “No,” Alex replied. “I don’t think he’s lied to you—to us. He’s told us what we needed to know; just enough to stop us from digging deeper.”

  Cassidy closed her eyes and nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Cass.”

  “Will it ever end?” Cassidy asked, more to herself than to Alex.

  The only answer Alex had to give left her cold. Would it ever end? Lies, betrayals, people playing God, violence—it all led to destruction. Eventually, the harm that people perpetuated was always visited upon them. It continued. Not for years. Not for decades. Throughout human history. Alex pulled Cassidy into her arms and laid back. “I love you.”

  “I know you do. I love you. Be careful, Alex. No matter what anyone says to the contrary, the past can hurt.”

  Alex kissed Cassidy’s temple. Yes. It could.

  ***

  Claire sensed a presence hovering over her and opened one eye. Mackenzie giggled.

  “Spying on me?” Claire asked.

  Mackenzie jumped onto the couch. “Are you staying?”

  “I was sleeping.”

  “No, for the weekend,” Mackenzie clarified.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why?” Claire asked.

  “Mom is going to see Aunt Candace later today.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “So, you could stay here with us.”

  “I’m sure Alex would love that.”

  “Mom doesn’t care. We could go to laser tag on Saturday.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, you and me?”

  Claire still couldn’t fathom why Mackenzie gravitated to her. Mackenzie would beg Claire to stay for dinner, to stay another hour, to stay for the entire weekend. Claire discovered that taking Mackenzie to laser tag could effectively kill a couple of hours where she didn’t have to answer Mackenzie’s endless questions. Hiding around corners and taking out the competition was a bonus. She should make an effort to get back to New York and see Hawk. After all, Hawk was her fiancée. “Aw, kid, I think I need to get home tomorrow to see Hawk.”

  “Why can’t Hawk come here?”

  “Yeah, why can’t Hawk come here?” Alex asked.

  “No fair, double-teaming me. Besides, you just want a babysitter,” Claire addressed Alex.

  “And, clearly, you’d be my first choice.”

  Cassidy walked into the room and laughed. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Mom, can’t Aunt Claire stay here while you visit Aunt Candace?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Claire can stay here whenever she wants,” Cassidy replied. “But maybe Claire would rather go home, Kenz.”

  Mackenzie offered Claire a pout.

  Shit. “Let me call Hawk; okay? Maybe I can stay until Saturday
night or something.”

  Kenzie shot up and pumped her fist in the air. “Hey, Connor! Abby! Aunt Claire is staying!”

  “I said maybe!”

  Alex leaned over Claire and smirked. “Sucker.”

  Claire stuck out her tongue.

  Cassidy walked out without comment.

  “Cass? Where are you going?” Alex called after her wife.

  “To call my mother. You two need supervision while I’m away.”

  “She’s just mad that we get to have more fun,” Claire said. Alex chuckled.

  “I heard that!” Cassidy called across the house.

  “I told you,” Alex said. “Bat hearing.”

  “That too!”

  Claire covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

  Alex shrugged. It never gets old.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WASHINGTON DC

  Candace was tense. Cassidy waited patiently for her friend to confide what was troubling her. It didn’t take long.

  “I am sorry,” Candace said.

  “Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

  “For dragging Alex and Claire into my mess.”

  “I hardly think you are dragging them. And, Candace, this mess, as you call it—is not of your making. It existed long before you thought of running for any political office. That much I can assure you.”

  Candace sipped her wine and nodded. Cassidy was right. Candace hadn’t created the chaos in the world. It didn’t matter when, who, or how any issue in the world had been created. Every situation and every potential problem landed on The President of the United States’ desk—every single one.

  “Alex told me a little,” Cassidy offered. “Only a little about what’s been happening in the border villages near Ukraine.”

  “Mm. Not just outside Ukraine. Scattered along the border. I’m certain elsewhere as well.”

  “Why do I think there’s more? Something you didn’t tell Alex.”

  Candace smiled genuinely. “Because there is more. There’s always more.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I’m tempted to open a fortune cookie and let it make my decisions.” Candace took a sip of her wine and looked at Cassidy sadly. “It’s not just Russia. Where I sit—Cassidy, I don’t have the luxury of dismissing or ignoring facts. Every day, I receive intelligence reports. They recap hundreds of potential threats to our safety, and to the sanctity of our democracy. There are assessments, images, first-person accounts of all the misdeeds and atrocities occurring around the globe. Sometimes, there are pages dedicated to internal threats to my administration—even to my family. They always leave out a huge chunk of the truth.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The role we play in creating it—nearly all of it.”

  Cassidy nodded.

  “How do I reconcile what I know, what I do, and what I know I should do?” Candace asked.

  “Is there something specific that you want to address?”

  “Specific?” Candace chuckled. “The other night, I told Jameson about some small villages just miles from the Ukraine border. The Russian government is withholding necessities—food foremost. The water supply is also tainted. The images—Cassidy, I swear to you, I thought I was looking at something from a history book. Jameson asked me the same question we all ask—Why? Do you know what I told her?”

  Cassidy waited.

  “I told her it’s always about control.”

  “It is,” Cassidy agreed.

  “What I didn’t say is that we are as guilty of it as any country on this planet.”

  “Candace, you are not responsible for the atrocities that—”

  “But I am,” Candace disagreed. “Did I create them? No. It is my responsibility—a job I requested. How am I supposed to judge my adversaries or hold my allies accountable when I am leading a nation that can’t even provide safe drinking water to its people? Not just in Flint, Cassidy. Pittsburgh, Newark, even here in DC. Not here, of course—Not in this shiny white house, I call home. Blocks away—where the brick doesn’t shine. Where the gates have grids on windows.” Candace shook her head. “It’s always the most vulnerable whom we choose to suffer. Isn’t it? Survival of the fittest is the precedent. The fittest are the wealthiest people. They become those we empower power. Look at me.”

  “You worked to get here,” Cassidy reminded her friend. “Maybe you have advantages, Candace; you’ve also faced adversity.”

  “True. But my adversity has not eclipsed my opportunity,” she said. “People like me—we enjoy healthier food, clean water, cleaner air, a better education—all the trappings of success. We keep our status; we maintain our power by stacking the odds against the most vulnerable. How is that different than what Nika Kapralov is doing? Are his actions more egregious because they are less subtle?”

  Cassidy sipped her wine and considered her reply. She asked herself similar questions millions of times. One man’s hero was another man’s villain. Losing her father as a child has sealed his superhero status in Cassidy’s eyes. His reappearance twenty years later, confronting his deception, learning the truth about his life had nearly shattered Cassidy’s heart. She longed to cling to the man she remembered even as she faced a person she never knew. She set her glass aside and took a deep breath. “This isn’t your doing,” she reminded Candace.

  “Directly? No. But, Cassidy, I’ve been in political life for thirty years at some level. How many times have I put my name to something that led us astray? How many times did I ignore the potential fallout that was staring me down?”

  “Sometimes, there are no good choices, only choices to make,” Cassidy offered.

  “I don’t know. I can’t tell myself the lies anymore. Maybe that’s my problem. All this madness that we face is of our making. Here I am, looking out at the rest of the world—standing center-stage, demanding that leaders far and wide provide dignity for their people. Dignity?” Candace shook her head. “We consider hunger unacceptable. One in six of our children is hungry. How am I supposed to hold anyone accountable, much less take them to task?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Isn’t it?” Candace replied. “Because we aren’t actively withholding resources? We aren’t making them readily available either—We can. We don’t. Does our passivity to poverty, to hunger, to illness—does that make us less sinister? Isn’t our reason the same when we cut through all the rhetoric?”

  Cassidy had no argument. Candace was on point. Candace needed to talk through the moral dilemma she faced. Cassidy privately wrestled with similar questions for years. Who was she to judge anyone? Could one lie eclipse another? Was deception ever justifiable? She still didn’t have any definitive answer. “You think that what Nika Kapralov is doing in Russia is the same as our problems with hunger here in the states?”

  “Not the same. The same reasons that drive our inaction can motivate others’ actions—keep those at the bottom from reaching the top. Feed them only when it serves you.”

  “We’re not only talking about food, are we?”

  “We’re talking about everything. Games, Cassidy.”

  “I wish I could tell you I think you’re wrong. I don’t know if there is an answer. I do know that you want to find an answer. That’s what makes you different. That’s why you can make a difference.”

  “I think you have more faith in me than I do at the moment.”

  “That might be true,” Cassidy conceded. “I know there’ve been many times when I’ve had little faith in myself. You care. You acknowledge what is wrong and why it is wrong. Not the intricacies of policy that sometimes have unintended consequences; you see and admit that plight can both be administered and ignored based on greed. You don’t look to excuse it. That’s the first step if you hope to change it at all.”

  “But can I?”

  “I think so.”

  “Ever the optimist.”

  “Not really. I don’t know that you can save anyone who doesn’t want to be saved. And, I know you can’t change anyone
who refuses to change. You can make a difference. You can change the playing field. And, if I know you, and I do—you will. Do you want my advice?”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t allow Kapralov or anyone else the latitude you won’t afford yourself. Start there.”

  “I’m sorry that I’ve gotten Alex mixed up in this.”

  Cassidy laughed.

  “I can’t say that I expected that reaction.”

  “Candace, Alex and I—Claire, Jane, John, Pip, even Dylan—we’ve been drowning in whatever this is all our lives. We didn’t ask for it. Every parent leaves their child a legacy. This madness is ours. What I told you is the truth. It’s how I manage to keep going even when I can’t reconcile what I know with what I feel. I try. Alex tries. Claire tries. We do our best to leave something different to our children. Isn’t that why you ran your campaign? Isn’t that why you are here?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “Then stop apologizing for a legacy you inherited. Worry about the one you want to leave.”

  “And, if I can’t divorce one from the other?”

  “You have to. Learn from all the past offers. Then you craft the lesson for the future.”

  “Spoken like a true teacher. You know, you would make a terrific—”

  “Don’t say, politician. Please.”

  “I was going to say, speechwriter.”

  “Well, thanks. I hope my boss feels that way,” Cassidy joked.

  “She does. So does your best friend.”

  Cassidy smiled. “I hope you know that I consider you my best friend too.”

  “I know you do. I hate that Alex—”

  “Alex is doing what she is meant to do,” Cassidy said. “Same with Claire. It’s in their DNA. I knew that the moment I met Alex. Sometimes, I wish she gravitated to something safer—like say, working in a bank behind a bullet-proof window.”

  Candace laughed.

  “That’s not who she is,” Cassidy continued. “Just like that’s not who you are. Not many people would have the courage or the drive to occupy this building. Fewer possess the ethicality it demands.”

  “You give me too much credit.”

  Cassidy raised her glass. “No. I don’t.”

  WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT

  “Gotcha!” Claire screamed triumphantly.