Filthy Series Page 4

  With a sigh, I slide my finger across the screen of my phone and put it up to my ear. “Hey, Dad.”

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I’ve just been busy.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to manage damage control when you’ve got your head in the clouds?”

  I feel a spark of defensiveness. “My head is not in the clouds. I’ve been working with my staff from morning ’til night on research and a new strategy.”

  He scoffs. “That softball staff of yours isn’t prepared to deal with Jude Titan as an opponent. Sonny Solomon is one thing, but a decorated veteran is another.”

  “I’m aware. And my staff is loyal to me, so I’m loyal to them. They’ve gotten me this far.”

  “Listen, Reagan,” he says in his soft, good-cop tone, “you’ll never have a better opportunity to break in than this. My approval ratings are off the charts, and I’ve given you my wholehearted endorsement.”

  “I know. I’m working as hard as I possibly can, Dad. I really am. Elections aren’t won overnight.”

  “You don’t need to give me any advice on winning elections,” he says scornfully. “And I hope you realize what an embarrassment it will be to me if you don’t win this.”

  I close my eyes and try to rein in my frustration. No one does this to me but my dad. Nothing’s ever good enough for him.

  “We’re on it,” I assure him. “Jude Titan took us by surprise, but we’re getting our bearings now.”

  “I can send Tom Harbor.”

  “No,” I say firmly. “That won’t be necessary.”

  I’m sitting at the desk in the hotel room I’m sharing with Lexi, and she steps out of the bathroom and gives me a sympathetic look.

  “I think it’s more than necessary,” my father says. “You need a seasoned strategist running your campaign, not your friend from college.”

  “Look, it’s under control.”

  “It looked very out of control in that interview the other night.”

  I blow out a frustrated breath. “What’s done is done. We’re adjusting our course.”

  “I’ve got people who can do the background work on Titan that you’ll need when Election Day is closer.”

  “Sure,” I say, resigned to the fact that I have to give in on something. “Just don’t send Tom. Background is always good.”

  “Don’t ignore me again,” he says, a warning in his tone.

  “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

  “Reagan.”

  “Fine. I won’t ignore you again.”

  “I think we need to schedule some joint appearances to align your campaign more closely with me.”

  I shake my head. “I want to do this on my own.”

  He laughs. “That’s idealistic of you, but it doesn’t work that way.”

  “Then I don’t want to win.”

  His sigh is loaded with aggravation. “Stop acting like a petulant child, Reagan.”

  “There’s nothing childish about wanting to win on my own merits or lose trying.”

  “You’ve sure as hell ridden my coattails this far, so don’t get on a high horse now.”

  I’ve tried to keep my cool, but my blood is boiling. The public sees Stan Preston as a caring man with an easy smile who loves crossing the political aisle to solve problems. He’s a family man who married his high school sweetheart and set high standards for his children.

  All those things are true; my dad is a very good man. But behind closed doors, he’s blunt to the point of abrasiveness at times. And those times often hurt.

  “Just how did I ride your coattails?” I ask in a frosty tone. “I thought it was me knocking on all those doors and recruiting my friends to help make phone calls and pass out flyers.”

  “I deliberately played no active role in that campaign, but don’t think the name Preston didn’t open lots of doors. And pocketbooks. It was my friends who donated to your campaign.”

  I take a calming breath. “And I appreciate it, Dad. I really do. But what I need most is your support. Not money or connections or any of that. I just want my dad to tell me I can do it.”

  “You can if you take my advice and let my people do the heavy lifting.”

  I roll my eyes. “I have to go, Dad. Can we talk about this later?”

  His tone is crisp. “I’ve said all I needed to say.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll talk to you later.”

  “All right.”

  I hang up and meet Lexi’s sympathetic gaze.

  “He’s so overbearing,” she says. “Can you tell him to back off?”

  My laugh holds no amusement. “That wouldn’t go over well.”

  “He’s going to expect you to do his bidding when you get elected, you know. Do you ever wonder if that’s why he’s supporting you?”

  Only every day. I shake my head at Lexi and pick up my cell phone and keycard to get back into the room.

  “I need some air,” I say, getting up.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Thanks, but I need to be alone. I’m fine, I just need some time.”

  She nods silently. I put on my well-worn Cubs baseball hat and slip out of the room. I wear this hat when I want to keep my head down and not be recognized. It goes well with the jeans and plain gray V-neck T-shirt I changed into earlier.

  The small-town hotel we’re staying in is quiet. When I walk outside, I can’t help looking at Jude’s red, white, and blue painted campaign bus. #TrustTitan, it says.

  I flip off the bus and head for a small bench I saw on the side of the building earlier. I’m emotionally drained. All I can do is sink onto the bench and bury my face in my hands, resting my elbows on my thighs.

  When I was in law school, I studied every day so I could graduate with honors and make my parents proud. Then I ran for state representative, and the campaign took every ounce of my time and energy. Serving as state rep was no different.

  And now, here I am again, burying myself even deeper in something that will consume me. I love public service, but I don’t even remember what it was like to do something just for me. Just because I wanted to. I haven’t had that luxury in so long.

  “You just now realized you’re rooting for the wrong team, didn’t you?” a deep, amused voice says next to me.

  I look up, and my heart skips when I see Jude. He’s wearing dark, worn-in jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps.

  “What, my hat?” I ask him. “You’re a Sox fan?”

  He nods. “Southside all the way, baby.”

  My heart flutters again as I imagine what it would be like to actually be called that by him. I’ve never had a relationship that wasn’t in the public eye. Every man I dated had to meet with my father’s approval, and that usually meant they or their family were connected in the Democratic Party.

  “I’m not surprised,” I say with a smile. “We’re polar opposites in every way, you and I.”

  “May I?” he asks, gesturing at the open seat next to me on the bench.

  “Why not? I already feel like shit. I’ll actually be impressed if you can make me feel any worse, Titan.”

  He sits down, and I immediately feel the warmth of his body next to mine.

  “You feel like shit because you’re so attracted to me,” he says. “A Southsider and a Republican. That’s gotta hurt. But I won’t tell anyone.”

  I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “I don’t find cockiness appealing.”

  “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.”

  “Oh, and you can back it up?”

  He inclines his head toward his campaign bus. “Wanna find out?”

  “You’re just trying to get under my skin.”

  He bumps his large shoulder against me lightly. “What’s on your mind, Reagan? I promise it’ll stay between us.”

  I sigh deeply before looking over and up into his dark eyes. “The pressure. It’s hard sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to see how intens
e it is. You make it look easy, though.”

  I laugh lightly. “That’s because I have no life. This—” I gesture at the lot our buses are parked in “—is all I have.”

  “You’re more accomplished than any woman I’ve ever known,” Jude says.

  I look up at him with my brows drawn together, waiting for the punch line. But his expression is sincere.

  “I am?”

  “Yeah.” He looks at his hands, clasped in front of him as his elbows rest on his knees. “You know, I’ve felt pressure, too. When I was in combat. It’s fucking intense, knowing other people’s lives hinge on your actions.”

  “That has to be the most intense pressure of all.”

  “I deal with pressure by making a list,” he says.

  “A list?”

  He nods. “If I was in combat, I’d think of the next four or five things I needed to focus on. Put ’em in order. It helps relax me to focus on what I can control.”

  “I can see that.”

  “You’ll have it all one day, Reagan,” he says. “Everything you’re missing right now. You’ll have it all.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re pretty damn hard to say no to. Whatever you want, you’ll just need to ask for, and it’ll be yours.”

  I don’t know if it’s his sweet words or his warm, baritone voice, but I’m so under Jude’s spell right now. My heart is pounding, and I’m warm all over.

  “Just ask?” I say softly.

  “That’s right.”

  The warm breeze picks up a few strands of my hair. I can smell Jude’s masculine scent as he leans closer. I’ve never had a moment like this, when nothing logical mattered. As he leans in and I feel his lips close to mine, I lean, too.

  Our lips meet, and my heart flies into overdrive as I feel the slight scrape of his stubble on the corner of my mouth. His mouth is so warm, and he tastes faintly of beer. I immediately want more of him, and he seems to know. His tongue meets mine, and he wraps a hand into my hair as he cups the back of my head.

  There’s no pressure, no worry, and no election as our mouths explore for those few seconds. I’ve never felt such magic.

  When Jude pulls away, I take in a deep breath, the realization of what just happened hitting me. I look around frantically to see if anyone saw us.

  “Hey,” Jude says softly, “we’re good.”

  “Shit. Is your campaign manager hiding nearby with a camera?”

  Jude draws his brows together, looking a little offended. “Are you kidding?”

  “How did you know I was out here?”

  “I was drinking a beer on my bus, and I saw you walk by.”

  I sigh deeply. How could I be so stupid? Kissing Jude Titan in a public place like this was an epically dumbass idea.

  “I have to go,” I say, getting up.

  “Reagan.”

  Jude’s serious tone makes me turn to look at him.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who would fuck you over like that. You can trust me.”

  “Trust you?” I scoff. “What, because ‘hashtag Trust Titan’?”

  “Because I’m trustworthy. You’ll find that out.”

  “I have to go,” I say again.

  I turn and practically run to the hotel’s front door, frantically running my keycard through the machine three times until the light finally turns green.

  All I can think about is getting away from him. I’ve never in my life let my guard down like that. And of all people to let it down with, he was the worst possible choice.

  Mistakes like this don’t just lose elections, they ruin political careers. If I’m lucky enough that Jude keeps this between us, I can’t ever let anything like it happen again.

  Chapter 7

  Getting to sleep last night was damn near impossible. I’m grumpy, and my face shows every bit of my attitude as I enter the tiny dining room of the inn in search of a fresh cup of coffee.

  “You look like shit,” Lexi, Reagan’s campaign manager, says when she catches sight of me.

  I grunt and head for the counter that’s lined with off-white coffee mugs. I don’t have energy for anything more or remotely coherent. When I place the cup underneath the coffee pot and pull the lever, only a few drops plop out.

  “Sucks.” Lexi laughs, and I glare at her. “I took the last cup.” She raises it to her lips, and I can see her smile behind the rim.

  Without asking, I start to disassemble the pot and open the cabinet above to find more coffee grounds because I can’t just stand here and watch as Lexi enjoys her cup.

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” an older woman in a pink tracksuit says behind me. “Let me get that for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I reply because I don’t have the luxury of being a cranky ass to the entire voting population of Illinois.

  Lexi licks her lips and grips the coffee cup with both hands, resting it against her chest. “Where you headed next?”

  I yawn, fighting off the drowsiness. “I’m not sure.” My voice is gravelly and about two octaves lower than usual. “You’d have to ask Carl.”

  Carl appears out of nowhere like magic as soon as his name slips from my lips. “Did someone say my name?”

  “Good morning, Carl.” Lexi smiles at him like a Cheshire cat. “I was just asking Jude where you’re headed next so we don’t have this issue two nights in a row.”

  I’m leaning against the counter, trying to play it cool with my arms crossed in front of me. “What issue?” My eyebrows draw together.

  Reagan wouldn’t tell Lexi about what happened last night. Would she?

  Lexi smirks and shakes her head. “Being in the same city at the same time, Jude. I know you’re new, but it’s not preferable.”

  “Lexi,” I say, tilting my head with a crooked smile. “I couldn’t have been in a better place last night.” Movement to my left catches my eye, and I turn to see Reagan standing in the doorway, frozen. “Feel free to follow me around the state. It could be fun.” The statement’s for her, but only she knows that.

  Reagan’s body moves forward, jerking slightly, but she doesn’t step inside the room. “What could be fun?” She looks from Lexi to me with wide eyes.

  I answer before she has a meltdown. I told her that last night would stay between us, and I plan to keep my word. “Working the same cities.”

  “Oh,” she says and curses softly under her breath.

  Lexi walks toward her and grabs Reagan’s arm. “You okay?”

  Reagan smiles and waves Lexi off. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well.”

  “It seems to be an epidemic,” Lexi replies and glances in my direction. “Champ back there is a grumpy one today.”

  Reagan’s eyes flicker to mine with a momentary smile. “Is there coffee?”

  “Lexi got the last drop.”

  “It’s almost done,” the innkeeper says, pulling off the lid and peering inside. “Sixty seconds.”

  “Thank God,” Reagan groans and walks toward the counter, but she keeps her distance from me.

  Lexi backs up a few steps and glances around the room. “I’m going to get us checked out so we can get on our way. Okay, Reagan?”

  “Yeah,” Reagan says and nods without looking in Lexi’s direction.

  “I’ll do the same, Jude. If that’s okay? I can stay if you don’t want to be alone—” He doesn’t finish the statement when I glare at him.

  When the room clears and it’s only the two of us left, I slide my ass down the counter and stop right next to Reagan. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t look me in the eyes either. “Are you really okay?” I resist the urge to sweep the hair away from her face.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice is deflated and soft.

  “Be real with me, Reagan. What’s eating you? You don’t hide your emotions well.”

  Her back straightens. “I surely don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve, Titan.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night either,” I offer to see if s
he’ll be more willing to talk.

  She peers up at me. “You didn’t?”

  I shake my head and frown. “I couldn’t stop thinking about last night.”

  She rolls her eyes, and her lips turn down. “Figures.”

  “About what you said,” I correct her. “You thought I was trying to trap you and ruin your career. I felt like shit after that, Reagan.” I scoot a little closer, leaving very little space between us. “I take my reputation and honor very seriously. I’m not the type of man to ruin someone’s career. If I win this campaign, it’ll be fair and square. I’d never do anything to personally ruin you.”

  “Sure,” she says and swallows hard. “That’s what you say now, but you’ll see.” She reaches for a coffee cup when the machine makes the last gurgle. “When it comes down to the wire, people will do anything to win.”

  I lean to the side, bringing my mouth next to her ear. “Not me. I kissed you because I wanted to, not to hurt you.” I back away, putting just enough space between us to keep the prying eyes of the public, or worse, our campaign teams, happy and unaware.

  “Jude,” she whispers without looking at me. “We can’t.”

  “We did.” I smile.

  She shakes her head and pulls the lever of the coffee pot, keeping her eyes glued to the liquid spilling into her cup. “Never again.”

  “I’m not making that promise. That’s one I’d be more than happy to break.”

  She turns toward me with parted lips and squeezes her eyes shut. “I mean it, Jude. This campaign is too important to me. We’re not friends.” When she opens her eyes, she says, “We’re nothing.”

  “Reagan,” I say and start to reach out for her when Carl walks in, staring at his phone, and I pull my hand back quickly.

  He glances up and looks between Reagan and me. “Ready?”

  “Let me grab a cup of coffee first.”

  “Have some on the bus. I already had the driver start the pot.” He shoves his phone in the front pocket of his gray suit and rubs his hands together. “Let’s go. You have a rally in one hour. We need to prep away from the competition.” He narrows his eyes at me, motioning toward the door with his head.