 
The Secret Bride

J.M. Downey

Copyright © 2019 by J.M. Downey

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America

To the man who has never given up on me,

I love you ryan.

Chapter One

Hannah gripped the notebook closer to her chest while she followed her roommate down the hall. Several small bronze sconces cast shadows on the red carpet with gold threaded crowns interwoven in an ornate design. The aura of richness surrounded her making her feel inadequate in her Target blouse and skirt with matching black pumps from a Payless store. She took a deep breath and let it slowly out, but still her nerves wouldn't settle. She was here. Finally. At the Plaza hotel. But would her plan work? The man in a grey suit leading the way turned the corner and she and the other interns followed suit. All she needed to do was make the right connections. Connections that would help her move up in the world of politics until she could find the right senator who'd listen to her. But first she had to get through the next five months of being a servant for the conservative candidates' kids.

The small group stopped outside a door, and she stilled, her eyes locking on a man. Who was that? He seemed out of place. A tension filled her as the man's cold dark gaze locked on her, sending shivers down her spine. He stood down the hall by a maid's cart, wearing grey overalls and holding a broom. Weren't hotel maids usually older women? She couldn't think of a time she'd seen a maid with a muscular frame or such a grimness etched into his face. This man looked as though he could easily snap her neck. She shook her head and looked away. She was being racist. A young Arabic man could be a maid. Just like a young liberal girl could somehow find herself working for the conservative party.

The leader opened the door, and she and the other interns stepped into a large room full of leather furniture, and red oak tables. An empty marble fireplace with a large HD TV over it made the room seem regal - especially with the gold-rimmed mirror hanging off to the side. How much did this room cost? More than the room they shoved her and the four other female interns in. She glanced around at the other occupants and stilled.

They were here. Off to the side stood, the presidential hopeful's daughter Abigail Seton looking at her finely manicured nails; her tight ringlets pulled in a ponytail. Next to her stood the vice-presidential candidate's son, Nathaniel McChester staring straight ahead, as he leaned against a wall. His dark brown hair was swept to the side, pointing to his roman nose which made him look aristocratic as he crossed his arms across his chest. The stars of the show. The ones she was here to help, while they traveled the country, speaking at youth rallies drumming up support for their parents' campaign. Though she knew she was to work for them, she never thought she would get this close to them.

She looked away at a large man standing in the center of the room. His white dress shirt barely stretched over his rotund frame and his tie was tossed over his shoulder. What an unprofessional buffoon. The man shook his head and pushed his glasses back over his nose before looking at the small group of interns huddled together, waiting.

He planted his hands on his hips, furrowing his brows, bringing about the air of authority. He whipped a finger towards the stars as a redness seeped over his face. "I know you all have signed the confidentiality statements. I know you have been prepped on how to behave. But I want to make myself clear. I will not tolerate fortune hunters, celebrity worshipers or starry-eyed romantics."

He jabbed his finger in their direction, making Hannah step back. "Serve them as if they are royalty, but don't you dare in up in their beds."

Hannah slowly shook her head. That was quite the way to start off a meeting.

"Do I make myself clear?"

She and several of the interns nodded.

"Good, now that...."

The eerie feeling that someone studied her filtered over her. She shuffled to the side, keeping her eyes focused. The feeling grew, making her nerves rattle. She always hated such a feeling. Her friends often told her guys were enthralled with her thick curly locks and bright green eyes. She always tried to ignore it, wanting them to focus on how well she could explain the deeper reasons of reader response theory or Simone de Beauvoir. But this feeling was different. More as if her legs weren't being analyzed, but as if she was being appreciated. She turned and locked gazes with Nathaniel, before his gaze quickly snapped back towards the large man in the center. A slight redness crossed his cheeks. Was the prince of politics staring at her? And could that be a blush? Hannah looked down at the floor, furrowing her brows.

"Now that the directions have been given out, I hope you all will heed my warnings."

Hannah's gaze snapped up. She had missed the rest of his speech. She needed to focus better and not worry about the wandering eyes of someone who would have one interest in her and one interest only. No matter what obstacles presented themselves, she would keep her goal in mind. The goal of finding a way to help women like her sister.

Nathaniel Vin McChester the 3rd folded his hands behind his back and turned to a window covered in a white curtain while the small group of interns left the hotel room. She had caught him admiring her. He swallowed hard, but no moisture covered his dry throat. For the first time, they had made a connection, a connection he had been trying to make for almost two years, but a connection that according to Mr. Arnold would have to wait. Or his father would have his head.

Nathaniel blinked -- his eyes burning from the contacts drying out his eyes. He never could get used to these things. He preferred glasses, the thick black ones that reminded him of who he was, and not who he was supposed to be - the polished heartthrob that would make the young 18-year-old girls rush to vote for his father.

Mr. Arnold turned towards him, a glare sharpening in his eyes. Nathaniel squared his shoulders. His father was a decorated commander, had fought in Iran until they gave in, and America entered a new era of peace. He'd not quake under this man's cold glare. Mr. Arnold stopped inches from him - the scent of whisky and peppermint filled the space between them. "Don't let it happen again."

Nathaniel lowered his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"You know." The man spun on his heels, and marched out of the room.

A chuckle floated to his ears. Abigail stepped in his line of vision, a smirk crossing her face, a smirk made more prominent by the red lipstick she wore. "The lover's gaze."

He turned from her. "Why don't you break a nail?"

"Gladly," she said, flipping her ponytail behind her as she marched off. She would like to break a nail. Just like him, she wore a facade. Under that polished interior, lay a girl who would rather be mucking stalls, and racing in the Kentucky derby than having her hair fixed by a specialist that cost more than the average policeman's salary.

Don't let it happen again. Mr. Arnold's words rang through his mind. Like he could stop himself. He had been standing behind a corner of the physics building at Yale for two years watching Hannah sit on a park bench, eating her small bag lunch and reading a book. Not once had she ever noticed him - even when he got the courage to sit at the opposite bench, and gaze at her from over his textbook, admiring her beautiful face, hoping that something in her book would make her smile so he could see it.

Nathaniel had paid good money to her friend to convince Hannah to apply for an intern position in hopes of meeting her. But once his father had learned how he got her hired, he had given Nathaniel strict orders to keep his distance.

Nathaniel left the hotel room, listening to the footsteps of the two men assigned to him. Men assigned by the government to make sure nothing happened. Nathaniel shoved his hands into his pockets and walked into his hotel room, ignoring the large flat screen TV or the fine leather furniture as he made his way to the bed, where a suitcase waited. He clicked open the lid and looked at the mass of wires and gears. He pulled out a screw and a metal square he had been working on and held them to his face. His father promised funding for his design, if he just played the part during the election. Would he really? Help him? Money was all he needed. He had proved it could work on a small scale but with enough funds he could test it to see how this box worked on a larger one.

Nathaniel rolled the model of his work in his hands, analyzing the angles. Would this box be big enough to do what he asked? His algorithms and calculations said it would. If it would just work, then he might change the world. Nathaniel threw the box back into his suitcase and planted his hands on his hips. He would have to find some way to hide his emotions, especially since he was supposedly engaged to a girl, he had seen only a few times. All he needed to do was make it to the end of the election and then he could pursue a relationship with Hannah. Maybe by then he'd find the courage to ask her on one simple date.

Chapter Two

A low hum of conversation filtered through the back bedroom of the hotel suite that had been set up as a temporary office while Mr. Arnold yelled at someone on the other end of his cell phone. Apparently, the daughters of the nation's richest men thought they could buy a dinner date with the vice-president hopeful son. And apparently they all wanted the same date. What did aloof Nathaniel think of being pimped out? Did he care? No emotions ever seemed to flicker across his face.

Hannah shuffled some papers into a stack on the large oak table in front of her and blew a ringlet out of her face before it bounced back tickling her nose. She squirmed, as a sneeze fluttered in her and then grew, jerking her body. Her hand flew to cover her nose as the sneeze pushed through her. The papers scattered around her, dropping to the floor. Her hands dropped to the sides, as once again the curl bounced against her nose. Mr. Arnold was going to kill her. He had wanted these copies ASAP. She dropped to her knees and began picking them up, just as two well-polished black dress shoes came into her vision.

Someone knelt in front of her and a large head almost blocked her view. She swallowed hard as Nathaniel began picking up papers, putting them in a neat pile, never once looking at her. A dark strand of hair slid across his forehead, pointing to his roman nose. Something warm trickled through her, as if a small awakening bloomed inside. He was nice looking. She had to admit that, but nothing but arrogance penetrated that stoic gaze of his, showing just what kind of man lurked inside.

Once the papers had been collected, she stood, and looked into his light-blue eyes. His mouth hung half open as his gaze locked on her. Was there something on her face? Hannah looked away as the heat intensified in her. What did it matter? Mr. Arnold would want the itineraries soon. Hannah looked back at him and held out her hand for the papers.

But he just stared at her.

She furrowed her brows. What was he dumb or something? "May I?" she asked, shaking her hand.

"Oh, sorry." A sheepish smile slipped on his face, as he placed the papers into her hand.

She gripped them, placing them on a stack of others as she stepped around him. She took two steps before stopping. She probably seemed rude at the moment and the last thing she needed was word to get back to Mr. Arnold. She turned, pulling the papers to her chest.

Nathaniel focused on her with his hands in his pockets, as if he was a lost puppy.

"Thanks," she said before turning back around. Hopefully, that would make her seem more favorable. But not much more. Especially with the way he made her cheeks warm. Mr. Arnold's words rang through her mind. She couldn't lose this job – it would provide her with the opportunities she'd been hoping for.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Did she forget a paper? She stopped as a solid chest crashed into her. She stumbled back just as two strong hands clenched onto her arms steadying her. The scent of creed royal after shave surrounded her, calling to her, making that heat boil all over. Her gaze snapped up, locking with Nathaniel's blue eyes.

"Sorry," he said for the second time – the corners of his lips twitching. Man, he was tall, but willowy. She swallowed hard, feeling the firm grip of his hands on her skin.

"I forget how long my stride is sometimes," he said.

She quirked a brow. Had he been following her? A subtle movement crossed her skin, where his thumb lay, faint almost like a feather. He moved it as though he wished to feel what lay underneath his finger, but feared being noticed.

Something sweet trickled through her. "It's okay," she whispered, running her tongue over her dry lips.

His gaze lowered as if the slight movement called to him. Dear Lord, he wasn't thinking of kissing her, was he?

"Nathaniel," a sharp voice rang out.

Nathaniel jumped back from her and pulled at his dark blue dress shirt, straightening it.

Hannah stood there as numbness spread over her – the paper rattling in her hands. Mr. Arnold's warnings rang through her mind again. Had he seen them locked together, eyes focused on each other as if in a trance? She slowly turned meeting the concrete glare of the manager with his hands on his hips. His round frame almost blended in with the sunlight streaming through the gauze curtain of the window behind him. Some of the light bounced off the black table in slight shimmers making his cold stare more prominent - a glare that could stab through her, killing her with one swift slice. Hannah held out the papers, noticing how they shook. Please don't let her loose this opportunity – an opportunity she never thought she could have. "Here are the copies of the itinerary you asked for."

He snatched the papers from her hand. "I'm glad you remember why you're here." His gaze snapped above her head. "Perhaps others will too."

Hannah glanced over her shoulder in time to see Nathaniel push his lips into a thin line and narrow his eyes. There was no love between these two men. She turned back to Mr. Arnold. "Is there anything else you require of me?"

"No, go back to the meeting room with the other interns."

She nodded and slowly turned keeping her gaze on the tan carpet as a chill swept over her. She slipped out of the room, closing the door with a small thump. Her breath fled from her, as she fell against the wall, her nerves rattling through her. What was she thinking, just standing there, locked in his arms? Did she want to get fired? She closed her eyes and a face filled her mind – a bruised and battered face with tears streaming from her green eyes. She must remember that face and each bloody cut. A face she'd never forget. The reason why she wanted to enter politics. She wanted to make it easier for women to seek justice, safety, so that no other young woman would have to face what her sister had.

The door closed with a small thump. Nathaniel spun around, clenching his hands into fists. "You had no right to speak to her like that."

Mr. Arnold crossed his arms over his chest, bending his head to the side. "Your father was a fool to agree to your request."

He turned, walking to the back bedroom, where piles of papers were strewed about on a canopy bed with white lace wrapped around the poles.

"My request? You mean request to give someone not as privileged as me a chance."

"You mean a chance to get in her pants."

Nathaniel slowly shook his head, as a heat intensified in him. How he wanted to slam a fist into Mr. Arnold's jaw. See the old man crash to the ground in a pile of blubber. But that would not be showing Christ. It would be showing something else. "I gave you two my word."

Mr. Arnold tossed a paper to the side. "That didn't look like keeping your word."

"I...."

Mr. Arnold spun towards him jamming a finger at him. "You're engaged, Nathaniel. Engaged to one of the most sought after heiresses in this country. Do I need to remind you of that? Do I need to remind you what that engagement means to your father's future? To yours?"

Nathaniel shoved his hands in his pockets and turned. "I just wanted to talk to her," he mumbled, walking to the door. He opened the door and slipped out, focusing on the opposite wall. Yes, he was engaged. Engaged to a girl, he barely knew. A girl he could barely stand with her well-manicured nails, too tan orange skin and fake blonde hair that made her look like some kind of plastic blow-up play doll. A look he never found attractive. Every time she spoke, it felt as though someone scraped nails against chalkboard with the way she whined to get what she wanted. Apparently, that is what she did to become engaged to a future vice-president's son. He swore someday he would end up in a reality TV show. Nathaniel ran his hands through his hair, pushing down on his head, squeezing. What was he going to do? He had no desire to marry Miss Elizabeth Hartman, but he couldn't break the engagement, because of the money her father had poured into the campaign. His hands dropped to his sides and turned, taking a step back.

Hannah leaned against the wall, hands plastered to it - eyes wide as if afraid. Probably afraid that he'd speak to her again, and she would get another tongue lashing from Mr. Arnold. He was a fool to push for her to get this position. But he couldn't help it. All he wanted was a chance to be closer to her, instead of a fool staring at her from afar.

"I'm sorry, for how Mr. Arnold behaved," he said.

She pushed from the wall, wrapping her arms around her waist. "It's okay."

A small ache grew in him. She looked so disheartened, scared, and he was the cause of it. He reached for her shoulder but stopped. He'd best not touch her again or he might pull her into his arms. But perhaps he could do something to make her feel better. "Won't you let me buy you a drink?"

Her gaze snapped up – her green eyes narrowing.

That was not the thing to say. "I mean just as friends." He placed his hands on his chest. "I promise nothing more."

"I don't think that would be wise." She swept past him, rushing down the hall

"Hannah."

She spun around; her curls whipping with her movements, slapping her redden cheeks. "I have a dream, sir. A dream I will not let be railroaded." She spun back around and marched to her room, her ponytail swishing behind her.

A wishful sigh escaped Nathaniel. Dreams he wished he could help her with, if he could just earn the right to. But he would never be able to. Because he had already sold his hand.

Chapter Three

Hannah rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the sweat slipping down it. She walked out on the small balcony of the hotel room, while the warm air wrapped around her. All day had been spent learning her role as an intern. A role of running errands, photocopying itineraries, fetching coffee, and making phone calls to verify bookings. A weariness settled over her as the warm air seeped into her skin making beads of sweat appear on it. Only day two and she already wondered how she was going to make it to November. She gripped the railing, closing her eyes, and took a deep breath letting it out in a small stream. How she wished she could flop in a pool letting her muscles shut down one by one. Apparently, not today. She imagined she wouldn't stop until the president was sworn into office or she got fired.

Hannah opened her eyes, focusing on the grey light with streaks of gold and red slicing across the sky. The sun set in the distance as the darkness crept up behind it. Why had she just stood there as Nathaniel held her arms, looking down at her with puppy-dog eyes? And why did she for just a smidgen of a second imagine he saw something special in her?

She was a fool. A man could easily sweep a woman onto the wrong path, leading to her destruction. Hannah gripped the rail, feeling the heat rise in her. Memories surfaced reminding her of why she should ignore Nathaniel and his captivating blue eyes. Her sister had had the perfect ballerina body, long and slender. A body that helped get her a scholarship and now what did she have? All because of her boyfriend. And he had to pay nothing. She remembers clearly her sister talking of true love, and she had had the glow of happiness covering her, but then the bruises started dotting her face and arms, the smile became subdued and the shoulders stooped. Soon in a fit of jealous rage he broke both her ankles, ending a promising career.

Hannah pushed away from the rail clenching her hands into fists. And the judge had laughed her sister out of court, all because she misidentified the gun. And now her sister lived in fear, almost in hiding. That was why she needed to avoid Nathaniel with his boyish charm. Charm was too seductive.

A door creaked behind her. Hannah stilled for a second. It was probably just her roommate coming to speak to her.

She turned and took several steps back, her back ramming into the steel bar. The man. The one she had seen. The maid. What did he want? She swallowed hard as his coal black eyes fastened on her sending chills through her body.

"There'll be an accident," he said - his Middle Eastern accent thick. "She'll live. But not for long unless you listen to us. Tell no one."

"What?" Hannah cried. The man turned for the door, stepping out. The door shut with a thump.

Hannah's chest rose and fell as she grasped for breath. What did he mean? Hannah raced to the door pulling on it. It was locked. He had locked her out. Hannah banged on the door. "Help me," she screamed. She banged on the door again. "Help."

Hannah stilled. What did he mean she'll live? Who could he be talking about? Hannah gripped the door, rattling it. It flew open and she stumbled forward, falling to her knees - her hands slammed into the carpet. Pain shot up her arms.

"Hannah." Lily knelt in front of her, her blonde strands framing her wide eyes.

Hannah pushed back onto her rear – her gaze flinging across the room.

"Did you see him?" she pushed out.

Lily jumped to her feet and looked around the room. "Who?"

Hannah opened her mouth to speak, but then clamped it shut. He had said to tell no one or she'd die. Who would die? What could he be talking about?

Lily knelt down next to her, running a hand over Hannah's brow, smearing the sweat gathering. "Did someone try and attack you?"

Hannah looked around the room. What should she say? Do? She pushed to her feet, and wrapped her arms around her waist, as a trembling slipped over her. She swallowed hard, feeling the dryness of her throat. "I..." She turned away. "I guess I got locked out on accident."

"Locked out?" Doubt filled Lily's voice. "Did you take something?"

Hannah turned to look at her roommate with her brows bent. Did she take something? She shook her head and went to the bathroom. She needed to think. To sort this out. Had she imagined this? No. But how did he escape without Lily seeing him? She walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face. "She'll live unless you do what we say," she whispered.

Hannah clenched the sink. What was going on? What did this man want her to do? What should she do? Hannah pushed from the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. A paleness covered her face, contrasting with her wide green eyes. She didn't know what to do. But she couldn't run and tell security. She had no idea who the she was, so how could they protect this woman. But the question was, what did they want from her?

Hannah filed into the bus, shuffling the box of flyers in her arms as she walked to a back seat right in front of the dark blue curtain that kept the stars separated from them. She placed the box on a seat next to a few others and sat. Every part of her felt tense, nerves rattling through her. All night she had tossed and turned, ruffling the sheets until Lily had moved to the couch. When she had fallen asleep nightmares had attacked her. Nightmares of her sister rushing to her, bloodied, because he had found her. Hannah swallowed hard, but her throat still felt thick – the air barely flowing through her. She needed to get this under control or she'd hyperventilate.

Hannah leaned her head back and closed her eyes. A vibration pulsed against her leg. Hannah looked down and reached into her pocket, sliding up her cellphone. A phone minus the GPS. Hadn't she left this at the hotel? They were not permitted to bring phones with them. Her sister's number flashed across the screen. Why was Savannah calling? Didn't she have class right about now? A sense of dread filtered over her. She glanced around noticing Mr. Arnold had yet to board the bus. She lowered into the seat, and flipped open her phone, pressing the green accept button.

"Hey Sav," she whispered. "Everything okay?"

"Hannah," her sister cried her name.

Every part of her stiffened. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know why but the brakes on my car just snapped. They wouldn't work."

They'll be an accident. But she'll live. "Sav...."

"I'm all right but the car smashed right into the neighbor's car. I'm afraid the car might be totaled."

The phone slipped from Hannah's hands, crashing to the ground. "Sav...." A squeak escaped.

Not her sister. Hannah jumped to her feet, her gaze flinging to every corner. Not her sister. Her precious sister who had worked so hard to get to this point. But why?

Several of the interns turned towards her with furrowed brows or mouths hanging open.

Hannah fell back into her seat as tension filled her limbs. She couldn't tell anyone – not one person - or she'd die. A hand touched her. She flinched.

"Are you okay?" the rich timber broke through her thoughts.

She glanced up. Nathaniel stood over her with his brows furrowed. Hannah ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her ponytail.

He sat next to her, his tall frame towering over hers. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

Noise drew his attention, and he reached and picked up her phone.

"My sister got into an accident." Her voice sounded like a creak.

"Is she okay?"

Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist, and nodded. The words tell him burned behind her lips. But she couldn't. She'd sign her sister's death warrant.

Mr. Arnold's loud voice filled the bus, as he stepped into it.

Nathaniel bent to her ear. "We'll talk tonight at the hotel."

He pushed from the seat and headed to the back.

Hannah fell back against the seat. A lone tear slipped down her face keeping time with her racing pulse. Something was going on. Something that would somehow cost her. She closed her eyes tight. Why her sister? She had worked too hard to overcome the abuse, to move on. Now she was teaching, fulfilling her life – no longer letting the fear that the monster had left in her rule her life. She opened her eyes and noticed a secret service agent, walking to the back of the bus. Should she say something? Let him know of the strange man's visit, and the phone call? They must want her to do something nefarious. She licked her lips, feeling the dryness of them. Not yet. Not until she knew what they wanted. If even then.

Nathaniel walked behind the curtain that separated him from whom Arnold liked to refer to as the serfs. He found his seat and plopped down. A whiteness had covered Hannah's face and her green eyes had been quite wide. She said there had been an accident. Was her sister badly injured? If so, he would push for her to be allowed some time off and then to return to the campaign. Arnold's and his father's crazy demands would not get in the way. Tonight when they reached the hotel, he'd find a way to speak to her. He had her phone still tucked in his pocket from where he hid it, so Arnold wouldn't see it. He'd call her hotel room and ask to meet so he could return it.

A width of perfume floated around him. Abigail sat next to him. He turned to her smart brown eyes, accented by her raised brows. "You're gonna get us in trouble," she said.

He looked away. "She was upset."

"And you were quite the Casanova."

"Casanova sent his love away."

"Which is what you'll have to do."

Nathaniel took a deep breath and slowly released it as he slouched in the seat. Yes, that would be what he'd have to do, but perhaps he could find a way to befriend her, help her, without getting too close.

"How's Charley?" he asked.

"Missing me I'm sure."

Nathaniel nodded. How much would they have to give up for their father's dreams?

"They say he won't eat, even refusing even his favorite oats."

"You spoil that horse."

She looked out the window as her hazel eyes watered up. "Do you think this thing we're doing will help?"

Nathaniel glanced at Mr. Arnold who yelled through his cellphone, about some schedule snafu. This thing. This campaign. Their fathers had decided to set them up as sex symbols parading them around, hoping to attract the young voters who preferred to watch an episode of New Jersey Shore than show up to vote. Would it work? Perhaps. The issues were not what mattered. Just the promise of what they represented. All these people's fears and prejudices. "If the voters were truly informed, it wouldn't."

She giggled, and shook her head. "Man, I wish it wouldn't."

He would too especially since he was not made for the limelight. He knew that. He'd rather be in his lab sorting through spreadsheets and diagrams as he tried to fix the world's problems that the politicians all ignored.

In a few hours, he would have to make his first public appearance. The boy who had spent his teen years hiding behind science books and watching Neil deNegress Tyson shows would now have to help spread a message he didn't believe in, helping the cause of a man he barely knew, a man who would strive to further everything he was against. The thought of doing it made his skin crawl, but his father had promised he would fund his research if he just played his game. So play he would. He reached to his pocket, tapping the phone. He just wished he didn't have to give up so much for it.

Chapter Four

Hannah clutched the papers close to her chest, and rushed after the other interns, darting around the small enclosure of the backstage area, weaving around abandoned stage lights and prompts. A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek, running into the curl that lay there. Her gaze roamed around the enclosure filled with dusty boxes and crates but she didn't see that man. The man who had approached her. She glanced at the agent standing off to the side with his eyes covered in black sunglasses. His tall frame loomed over everyone in the room, giving him an ominous look. His gaze remained fixed but she was sure he noticed every movement in the room. Prickles covered her skin. Could he see her guilt? But she hadn't done anything. Yet.

Hannah shook her head, and focused on Nathaniel standing near the entrance of the stage, wearing a pair of pressed khakis and a tucked in dark blue dress shirt, that hinted at the broadness of his chest. For some reason the outfit didn't seem to fit him – it was too professional – too polished. The young man that had stolen conversations with her seemed unsure, as if he was acting in a play he didn't quite know the lines to. Hannah stopped quite a way from them. When their speeches ended, she and a few other interns were to walk to the front of the auditorium where some tables were set up. They were to encourage the youth to register and hand out information about the candidates' policies leaving out the bad but detailing all the good.

A female announcer told of the highlights of Nathaniel. He was studying physics at Yale. Top of his class. Had plans to join the Peace Corps after he received his masters. She could see it. He didn't seem to have any snobbiness in him. In fact there seemed to be a gentleness – a kindness. Hadn't he stopped to help her pick up the papers she dropped? Hadn't he sat next to her when she learned of her sister's accident? Perhaps there was a kind soul under all his expensive clothing. A small heat crept across her face. She had no time for a relationship but she wished she might have the time to find out if her observations of his character were true.

The announcer finished, and a loud applause erupted throughout the auditorium. Nathaniel placed a hand on Abigail's back and they strolled out waving to the crowd. Hannah walked to the edge of the stage.

Something warm rippled through her. Nathaniel straightened his posture, standing next to Abigale with his hands crossed in front of his waist. Hannah bent her head to the side as Nathaniel began elaborating on a plan to reduce oil consumption – his face almost taking on a glowing affect. A plan to make the US less invested in Saudi oil. Was this a plan he was passionate about? He spoke more fervently about it than the trickle-down economic policy the presidential candidate pushed. What was Nathaniel really like? Part of her wanted to get to know, but part of her realized the fruitlessness of it. Hannah turned away, walking back to join the other interns.

Once the speech finished, she and the other interns walked out as the crowd erupted into applause. A group of young girls pushed against the metal barrier, screaming out Nathaniel's name, shouting out their love for him. A ping of jealousy filled her while she scooted behind a table covered with signed photos of the stars, and voter registration cards, with options to sign up for text reminders to vote.

Hannah glanced around, looking for that man, the man with the swarthy hair and piercing black eyes. He made her think of a Persian. Was he?

A long line of young adults probably barely past 18 approached the table and she fell into the rhythm she had been trained for. Get them registered and hand them information all the while answering somewhat vague questions about Nathaniel and Abigail.

Hannah smiled at a young lady with long blonde hair and light blue eyes who approached the table. "I'd like to register."

Hannah nodded and handed her an application. Another young man approached, and she answered his questions about the candidates and a few about Abigail.

The blonde handed her card back, narrowing her eyes. "Would you please look it over? I want to make sure I did it right."

Hannah stilled as she took it. Why would she ask that? The application wasn't that hard. Hannah looked down at the application, glancing over it. I'd love to date Nathaniel. So you should.

Hannah's gaze snapped up, but the girl was gone. Her gaze darted around but she couldn't' find her. Was this a silly jest? A flirting girl? Or what they wanted her to do?

Hannah took a deep breath and slowly released it as the world around her swirled.

"Hannah." Lilly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Hannah wiped a curl from her face with her shaking hand. "I'm fine," she whispered.

She needed to get a hold of herself. This was just a coincidence. A mere flirtation. Nothing more. But what should she do if they wanted her to date him? It's not like she could force it. No, this was silly. What advantage could these people have with her dating Nathaniel? Nothing. This was a hopeless flirtation.

Nathaniel walked into the hotel room, and flicked on the lights, revealing a room full of dark leather furniture and oak tables. A large HD TV stood on an oak stand with gold accents, matching the cream color carpet. He walked to the small-leather couch and plopped down, feeling each of his limbs yearn to shut down. He glanced at the clock, reading 9 pm. It was late. He knew Arnold wanted them in his hotel room, to discuss the refinement of their speeches and their role in the campaign, but every part of him wanted to be hard to find.

He reached to his pocket and took out Hannah's phone, studying the white case with lavender roses painted on. A smile crossed his face. She didn't seem like a girl whose favorite color was purple, but more red, a bold color to match her take charge attitude.

Nathaniel lowered the phone resting it on a knee. Did she realize he had it or the fact that he took it on purpose? Who knew? Quite frankly he didn't care. He could just give the phone to a handler and have it passed to her, but then they might question her on how he came into possession of it. He could probably find a way to slip it to her discreetly, but not one part of him liked that idea. No, he knew why he took her phone. To give him a reason to seek her out. To talk to her. To get to know her just a little bit even if he knew he could never have her. Besides he said he would talk to her tonight. He had to keep his promise.

Nathaniel stood and walked over to the phone in his room. He reached to it, letting his hand rest on the receiver. What if one of the other girls picked up? He'd just hang up. He snatched up the phone, and quickly dialed her room number, his nerves rattling through him. Please Lord let her pick up.

Hannah turned at the sound of a ring, biting on the bottom of her lip. Who could be calling? Mandy tossed her magazine to the side - a huff escaping her lips. What if it was them? She rushed to the phone jumping in front of Mandy, snapping the phone off the hook. Her roommate jumped back, raising her hands in the air.

"What are you expecting a secret crush to call or something?" she asked.

Hannah placed the phone to her ear, and turned away. "Hello," she whispered.

A slight breathing answered her. It was them. She cupped the phone. "What do you want?"

"Hey, Hannah. It's me, Nathaniel"

Nathaniel. What did he want? And why was he calling her? "Oh hey," she said.

He chuckled over the line, and then stopped, his breathing filling the phone. She waited on the line, but he never said anything. Did he not realize what he sounded like? A stalker. What did they have to do to get this guy ready to be a public figure? Could he not speak unless he was given a script? "Is there something you need?"

"Can you meet me at the roof? I just want to talk."

"Roof?"

She watched her roommate step in front of her, hands on her hips, brows knit.

"Yeah, um, just walk out the hall and stand there. I'll get you in a second."

Hannah ended the call, and walked to where her shoes waited. How did he plan on getting to the roof?

"So who was that?" Mandy asked.

"Don't worry about it," she said, slipping on her shoes. She walked out the door, and closed it, hoping Mandy wouldn't follow her, peppering her with more questions. The last thing she wanted was an interrogation. She stood outside the door, and looked down at the burgundy carpet with faded gold threaded crowns. They were staying a floor down from the royal suites where the stars were staying. How did Nathaniel think, he could slip out without being noticed? She turned towards the elevator wondering if he'd come down it. Surely, the agents would stop him or trail after him.

A tap pushed against her shoulder. She flinched, and turned, a smile slipping on her face. Nathaniel stood in front of her looking like the Unabomber. He wore a grey hoodie sweat shirt with the hood covering up a crimson baseball hat. Behind him stood an agent with his arms crossed. Did Nathaniel realize he was there?

"Come." He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall, making her stumble after him. They raced to a service elevator almost hidden behind a tall potted palm tree. Nathaniel leaned against the wall; his mischief filled blue eyes focused on her, as the agent walked up, and ran a card over a metal box on the wall. A ping filled the stillness as the steel doors of the elevator opened, revealing a grey shaft. Nathaniel dragged her in, his arm slipping around her waist as the agent followed and stood in front of them.

Nathaniel's warm breath hit her cheek, sending a warmth and a chill at the same time through her. This was dangerous. But thrilling at the same time. They had run off like two lovers wishing to catch just a moment of peace together.

"You get used to the agents' presence after a while. They're good at blending in," Nathaniel said.

She nodded and laid a hand on her cheek feeling the heat permeate from it. What effect did this young man have on her?

Soon the elevator opened, and warm air brushed against them as a small wind rippled a few plant leaves set out in pots. Nathaniel once again took her hand, and pulled her away as the agent stood off in the distance arms crossed over his chest watching them with his black glasses covering his gaze.

Hannah walked to the edge, gripping the hard concrete rail, looking at the lights moving down dark lanes.

"Beautiful view," Nathaniel said behind her.

She nodded and turned to face him. A slight blush covered his cheeks making his blue eyes stand out more. "You're going to get me fired."

He shrugged his shoulders. "They can't fire you for being my friend."

She shook her head and turned around, looking back at the cars as they sped down the road, looking like shooting stars slicing through the night sky.

Footsteps sounded behind her. "I just wanted to see if you were fine. You were so rattled earlier."

Every part of her stiffened. Earlier. When she had learned the threat was real. She swallowed hard as small shivers of fear slipped over her. What did those people want? And why her? Did she seem like someone who would bend easily to their will?

A touch on her back made her flinch. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something so unpleasant."

She turned as his arm stayed on her back and he folded her in his embrace. He was so tall; she only came up to his chin. But he just didn't seem that big. Perhaps because he didn't seem imposing. Did the people who issued that threat really want her to date him? "My sister's fine. She just.... I don't know."

"Is there some way I can help?"

Hannah scrunched up her eyes and leaned her head down, until her forehead touched his chest. A tear slipped down her cheek and onto his shirt. Emotions whirled around her as he pulled her close. She shouldn't be doing this, but his arms felt so comforting, and the last 24 hours had been so hard.

"Hannah, I will do what I can," he whispered.

The words burned behind her lips. She wanted to tell him. Perhaps, he could do something to protect her sister - maybe hide her away or assign an imposing agent to guard her. But what if he couldn't? What if these people got to her sister first? She could cause her sister's death. "I'm just tired."

"I imagine you are. They work you interns too hard."

Hannah wiped her wet cheek and stepped back. Looking up, her mouth dropped open. A message was being communicated with the burning desire in his eyes. But not a desire of lust - one of longing. A longing for a connection. As Nathaniel ran a hand up her back to her hair, questions rose in her mind. His touch, embrace, didn't feel like one who lusted after her body, but one who might cherish her. Every word he spoke made her wonder if he'd risk all to pursue something deeper with her. Did Nathaniel have feelings for her? Feelings that could lead to something? But it would only lead to her being dismissed. And then what would happen to her goals, dreams? Nothing. Her heart dropped as she wrapped her arms around her waist, shutting herself off from him. "We should probably head back. I need sleep."

Something crossed over his face. A feeling of regret, perhaps? Regret that confirmed what she had already learned. This young man wasn't after a bed buddy; no he wanted something deeper even if he didn't realize it. She had found herself in quite the quandary.

Nathaniel nodded and held out of his hand with its long elegant fingers. Hannah stilled, focusing on it for a second. Holding hands wasn't exactly a friend thing. But what did it matter. No one would see them. She walked to him and took his hand, letting him lead her inside the hotel.

Nathaniel dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie sweatshirt as the door quietly shut. Hannah had slipped away once again in possession of her phone. Nathaniel closed his eyes conjuring up the scent of lavender which seemed to flow from her. Her hands were softer than he imagined and her curvy body fit well into his arms. Man, he was in trouble.

Soft steps approached him, stopping at his side. He looked at his longtime-friend Mathis, the agent who he specifically requested be assigned to him.

"Friends?" Mathis said in his monotone voice.

Nathaniel chuckled and turned, walking down the hall. No, that wasn't quite friendship. "I'm treading on thin ice, aren't I?"

His friend took off his glasses, revealing steel grey eyes. Eyes that never stopped watching, looking. How long had Mathis been keeping him safe? He was there on the playground when the other children bullied him - back before his father hit it big, and pulled him out of public middle school sending him to an elusive private school. And at his mother's urging, Mathis was sent to the school also so he could stay Nathaniel's ever protector.

Nathaniel led him to his room where two other agents waited on either side of the door. He opened the door and him and Mathis walked in.

Nathaniel looked around at the fancy bed with a canopy top and covered in white silk sheets. Two oak dressers stood on either side, making the room look elegant. But too elegant for him. He rather have a room with a large stainless steel work table and just a plain bed for him to fall into at night when he was too exhausted to work. A bed big enough so Hannah could cuddle up next to him while he held her all night, smelling the lavender scent that penetrated from her, enticing every one of his senses. A deep longing filled him as images pushed into his mind. Images he needed to squander but not one part of him wanted to.

His friend set his glasses down on a black table. The small tap withdrew Nathaniel from his thoughts as Mathis flopped on a green chair, leaving the role of protector behind and becoming nothing but his friend. "She seems perfect for you."

Nathaniel took a deep breath and released it, his shoulders rising and falling. "I know."

"But she's not your fiancée."

"I know."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Nathaniel turned removing his hands from his pockets and running them through his hair. "Be her friend."

Mathis narrowed his eyes.

Nathaniel's hands dropped to his sides. "Look, I can't ignore her. I tried that. I can't date her; it would cause too many problems. So what else am I to do"?

His friend pushed to his feet, swiping his glasses off the table and making his way to the door, gripping the handle.

"How about be a man," he said, before walking out the door and closing it.

Those words cut Nathaniel to threads. But he was right. Nathaniel walked to the bed and sat on it burying his head in the lush pillow. Perhaps, he did need to stand up to the powers in his life. But should he? Would pursuing a relationship with Hannah be worth sacrificing the funding his father had promised him? Funding to test his theories. To see if he could create an energy source that would help revolutionize the automobile industry. Just a small box. A small box that produced clean energy and might just reverse the destruction the human race was releasing on earth. He had no guarantee that Hannah would return his affection. Yes, tonight she had melted into his embrace. Yes, her smile seemed warm. But that was not proof that she'd love him the way he loved her. But what if? What if she did? A box would never hold him at night. But she just might. And a big part of him wanted to find out, if she would.

Chapter Five

Hannah sat on the side of the porcelain tub and rolled her phone in her hand. The faint scent of lavender floated to her from a nearby candle - a candle that cast a light glow around her. Was someone playing a joke on her? A well-elaborated prank that put her sister in harm's way? It had been a few days, since the last encrypted message, and she had not received anymore. So what was going on?

Hannah sat up looking at a few white towels with the name of the hotel etched in gold threads hanging on a rack. It had also been a few days since her rooftop rendezvous with Nathaniel. Her cheeks warmed with just the thought of being locked in his arms and the feel of his warm breath brushing her cheeks. There hadn't been anymore rooftop rendezvous either, but Nathaniel had sent her several text messages, asking how she was doing, telling her tidbits about his life, and random scientific facts as if she would find such info fascinating. Did Nathaniel have a love of science? She figured he would have pursued investment consulting like his father had. But he didn't seem like the investment type. No, the science nerd fit him quite well.

For the last few days, Nathaniel had been traveling ahead of her, and staying at different hotels, but now they were at the same one. She looked at the message she had received five minutes ago, biting on her bottom lip.

"Want a coke?" it said.

She hadn't written back and didn't quite know what to tell him. Her finger dangled over the N on her phone, slowly pressing down but not fully. Where did he want to share this coke? What if he invited her to his hotel room? He might seem like a sweet guy, but there was always a chance he just wanted a bed buddy. Hannah looked at the phone pressing down just a little more, but then stopping as a shiver slipped over her. What if someone really did want her to pursue a relationship with him? A relationship that would somehow benefit them. Hannah sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling on it. Lord, she whispered. Lord. A word she hadn't uttered in years. Ever since, the monster found her sister at the shelter and bashed her until she was unrecognizable. So why was she uttering it now? Because she didn't know what to do. What to think.

She raised the phone and glanced over it. Small innocent steps. That was what she would take. "Where?"

A ping sounded as a message appeared. "Roof. Agent will bring you."

The roof? Would this turn into a rooftop affair? She chuckled and typed. "Okay."

Hannah stood and walked to the mirror, looking at the slightly grey circles under her eyes. The last few nights had been filled with nightmares. Nightmares of the past and a future that mingled together into one terrifying experience. She pulled her hair out of her ponytail, letting the dark rich locks fall just past her shoulders and spring into tight curls. Short meant power. Long meant submissive. No man would ever make her such.

She turned, sweeping her phone off the counter, and walking out, listening to the slight snores of her roommates. She should be sleeping, every bone in her body felt weary, but she knew as soon as her head lay across the pillow sleep would evade her.

She walked to the door, opened it and stepped out, meeting face to face with the agent from the other night. He focused on her – no emotions on his face. Man, was he intimidating.

"Hello," she said.

The man just nodded and turned, heading down the hall with her following. They made their way to a service elevator – something all hotels must have but she hadn't noticed before, since they all seemed to be hidden behind plants or other decorations, out of the way. Once the elevator opened, she walked in and scooted into a corner, glancing over the man in front of her. He had to be a least 6 foot something, with strong broad shoulders and a slender but muscular form. Where Nathaniel showed boyishness this man showed strength, as if he could quickly snap her neck if she tried anything. A shudder slipped over her. That was something she wasn't too keen on finding out. The elevator stopped and with a ping the door slowly slid open, as a brisk wind drifted in. She walked out, noticing a greenhouse that took up most of the roof. This must be how the establishment kept fresh vegetables.

She looked at a table where sat, two bottles of coke, a lit candle and Nathaniel bent over some half opened device with a screwdriver in his hand and a small lock of hair falling across his forehead, slipping into his eyes. That device must be quite fascinating, if he hadn't noticed her presence yet.

She stopped mere inches from him, studying the fine strands of his neatly trimmed hair. Something warm ran through her, making emotions swirl around her. Why did she find this boyish man so attractive? Captivating? Did he just seem safe to her? But no man was safe. A woman should always be weary of them.

"Building a bomb?"

A chuckle escaped him. He closed the keychain screwdriver, and slipped it in his pocket. He then laid the device cover on it making her realize he had been taking apart an ereader. "No, just fiddling."

She raised her brows. Fiddling? Did he fiddle with her phone before giving it back to her?

Hannah stepped away from the agent and turned to look at him over her shoulder. He stood with his hands crossed over his waist, dark glasses on despite the fact it was nighttime. A shudder slipped over her. He was cold like a frosty full of spinach, chilled but a harsh taste.

Hannah turned back around and smiled at Nathaniel. Tonight he wore a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeve black t- shirt. A boyish smile slid across his face and something in her fluttered.

"I like exploring gadgets," he said. "Science has always interested me."

"Science is good. Someone's got to cure cancer."

"Yeah." He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hannah bent her head to the side. This guy's face hit the news every night as the success of the campaign grew. Teeny bobbers were starting fan pages and liking his Facebook page in excessive numbers. But all she could see was a young man better suited for a lab than the stage.

"Tell me what interests you," he said, taking a step closer to her until he stood mere inches from her.

"Changing the world," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Change the world. How?"

Hannah bit on her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. What would he think of her goal? Her dreams? How she wished to create a world where women could seek justice against the ones who harmed them? Would he think she was crazy? "I want to make the legal process easier for abused women."

The smile fled from his face, as his mouth dropped slightly open. He took a quick step towards her gripping her elbows and yanking her close, making her crash against his chest. "Who hurt you? I swear...."

She laid a finger across his lips silencing him. "Not me, but someone close to me."

Tears rose in her and she sniffled fighting to keep them from slipping out. An image rose in her mind. An image of her sister pleading for help from a cop who just shook his head and walked away. The world was not set up to help women like her sister. Just the ones with money.

Nathaniel laid his head against hers, his breath coating her face, the scent of peppermint filling the space between them. "It must have been someone very close to you," he said.

A tear made its escape, trailing over her lips. Nathaniel's thumb crossed over her bottom lip, swiping the tear away. A trail of tremors followed in its wake. "My sister," she whispered.

"Hannah, I'm sorry." The thumb crossed over her cheek, stroking a curl. "But I swear I will make sure she's safe. Seek justice for her."

Something pulled on her - a boldness that she should ignore. But she couldn't help it. Her hand slowly lifted and she laid a few fingers across his cheek as a warmth swelled in her. Who was this guy? A guy with the timidness of a mouse but the fierceness of a lion. A guy who would seek justice for a girl he had never meant. Never even knew. She let her fingers trail down his face over the slight stubble that grew on his cheek. Words clogged in her throat. Could she find a future with this boy? A future beyond the one his father wanted.

Nathaniel lowered his face until his lips hovered over hers. Mere inches. Just mere tantalizing inches. What would happen if she let him kiss her? Shared such an intimate moment? She'd find herself sent home. She spun around, her movements breaking the spell.

"Hannah," he whispered her name almost in a plea.

"What do you want from me Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest. "I don't know. I just know, there's something about you. Ever since I first saw you sitting on that bench at Yale, I've wanted to get to know you."

Since he first saw her on a park bench at Yale? How long had he liked her? Something tugged on her heart - a tug that made her want to throw herself into his arms. But why? She wanted nothing to do with men. They hurt you and then tossed you aside. But something about this boy broke down every defense she had. Made her want to rethink her decisions, run with desires she shouldn't have.

Hannah closed her eyes and turned, until she could feel his presence in front of her – the scent of his lemony cologne calling to her.

"I won't push you. Or try anything," he whispered. "I probably shouldn't even be pursuing you, but I just can't help it."

"I...." A buzz vibrated against her leg. She clamped her mouth shut. Dread filled every part of her as she focused on his blue eyes filled with a lightness. She reached into her pocket. Not Now. Please not now. She swallowed hard, as Nathaniel's brows furrowed. She pulled out her phone, and slid her finger across the screen.

Hannah slowly shook her head as she looked down at the screen. She screamed, jumping back. The phone crashing to the floor.

"Hannah?"

He reached for the phone, but she fell to her knees, scooping up the phone, scraping her fingers. She smashed the off button as a sob clogged her throat.

"Hannah." He reached for her. She fell back - her gaze snapping around. Who was watching her? Following her?

"What's wrong?"

She jumped to her feet, and stumbled back, hitting a solid chest. Her gaze snapped up. Mathis stood behind her. His stoic face focused on her.

"What's wrong, Hannah?" Nathaniel asked again.

"I have to go." She stepped around Mathis. But then stopped, every part of her stiffening.

They wanted her to kiss him. What would they do if she didn't? Dear Lord, no. She spun back around racing to him, gripping his shoulders and smashing her lips against his. He stood still, stiff as if he couldn't believe what she had done. What Had she done? She slowly set back on her heels to break from him, but then, his arms flung around her, crushing her to him. His lips plastered on hers, smashing their faces into an awkward embrace, a wobbly caress that tasted sweeter than she could ever imagine as intense emotions filled her, pushing the fear away, while she chased after his lips, trying to follow him, as though they didn't even know the steps to the dance they performed, a dance she barely knew, but yet it felt right. Man she could fall for this boy. This boy with the world following him. She closed her eyes and stepped slightly back, but not far enough away that she couldn't feel the heat of his desire pushing from him, a heat that matched what coursed through her. She opened her eyes, focusing on his. What did these people want from her? What if....? She shook her head as fear rattled over her again. What if they meant him harm? She looked at Mathis wondering if her guilt was written all over her. Could he tell? The confession burned behind her lips, wanting to slip out. But they were obviously watching, listening. And if she broke the rules, she had no idea what they'd do. They had already proven they could get to her sister.

"I need to go to bed," she whispered, and walked around Mathis, ignoring the pull that wanted to make her turn around and kiss those lips one more time.

Nathaniel sucked in a breath, as the world around him swirled. He took a step back steadying himself before reaching to his lips and feeling the searing heat. The taste of her strawberry lip gloss still rested on his tongue. Never in his life, had something so overpowered him, making him not know how to respond. But then again, he had never kissed a girl before. Nathaniel closed his eyes, rubbing the tips of his fingers together. He could still feel the grip of her hands, the softness of her lips and the slight tickle of her silky curls.

Heavy thumbs of feet made him opened his eyes.

"Aren't you the Casanova," his friend said in his ever stoic voice.

A smile tugged at the corners of Nathaniel's lips. "Aren't you supposed to only see danger?"

"You looked in trouble."

Nathaniel shook his head. Was that really a joke? But one could never tell with him. Mathis had the emotional intensity of a sloth. Nathaniel ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat gathering at the back of his neck despite the chilled air. Why had she kissed him? And what had frightened her? Something had. Unless she was given to hysterics but she didn't seem like such a girl. She seemed sensible, smart. Smarter than him in so many ways. "I wonder what's wrong."

Mathis took off his glasses. "I wonder too. I'll...."

"Don't pry."

Mathis nodded.

"I don't want to invade her privacy. I've probably already invaded it enough."

Mathis's gaze scanned over his shoulder, looking, watching. His gaze stopped and then sharpened.

Tension filled Nathaniel. He turned slowly following Mathis's gaze, but he only saw the blurry edge of the nearby building.

"The tryst is over. We should turn in," Mathis said, his gaze never leaving that spot.

Was something really going on? Nathaniel scanned the top of the building, looking for moving shapes, or human like shadows. But he still saw nothing. Nathaniel turned heading to the door. Whatever it was, he was sure Mathis would take care of it.

Nathaniel walked into the room, with Mathis following him and the feel of her lips still burning on his as if he had eaten a hot pepper. The sound of a voice stopped him. The rich baritone filtered through the room and made his nerves rattle. "He's here," Nathaniel whispered as Mathis stopped next to him.

"Do you want me to stay?"

How he wanted him to, but this was a dragon he needed to face on his own. Nathaniel patted his friend's shoulder. "I doubt he wants an audience."

Mathis nodded, before turning and walking out the door. The click of the door closing reverberated through the room, poking at the headache that had begun to emerge. Why was his father here? But he had a feeling he knew. Arnold probably sent off a warning, that Nathaniel had slipped from their designed path chasing after the girl he had promised to stay away from.

He listened as his father ended the phone conversation he was having in the other room and soon the thumps of steps floated to him. Nathaniel took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could handle this. Or at least try. His father walked into the room, a slight smile on his face, but a sharpness in his eyes. His black hair was slicked back to perfection, but the dress shirt he wore was slightly rumpled. Light grey circles rested around his eyes. His father crossed his arms over his chest. "You promised."

He knew. Arnold had probably been feeding him all the juicy details about how Nathaniel couldn't stay away from her. "I know."

His father focused on him, not even moving.

"Look." Nathaniel raised a hand in the air. "I have...."

"We had a deal."

Nathaniel's hand fell to his side. Deal? Why did he ever make that deal? If he had known he might actually have a chance with Hannah he wouldn't have.

"Want me to get her dismissed?"

Nathaniel clenched his jaw. "Leave her alone or I'll... "

"Listen." His father walked towards him, deep lines forming between his brows matching the stress lines creasing in his cheeks. "Do you realize what this connection can do for you? What it's doing already? Do you? Nathaniel we're about to be kings of this country. And we need the money to get there."

Nathaniel's gaze dropped to the floor. Always the connections. The money. How had his father become so obsessed with status? Was it after Mom died? Mom. Did his father even remember the love he had for her? The love he told his only child he wished he might have some day.

"Remember your love for mom?" He looked back at his father. The sharpness slipped away and a softness entered his dark blue eyes. He remembered. He remembered too well. Maybe he could make him understand. "Well that's how Hannah makes me feel. You know I'll never love that heiress."

"And you love her?"

"I'd like to see."

His father's shoulders rose and fell with his deep breaths. "Nathaniel, just...." A puff escaped him. "Can you at least give it to the end of the election?"

Nathaniel didn't respond. Was he relenting? Even just a little. A shadow crossed over his father's face while weariness seemed to circle around him, wanting to drag him to the floor. What was this election costing his father? Would it cost him the small bond they had?"

"Can you? I promise I'll pour so much money into your work, you will have everything you need."

Nathaniel looked away. An eagerness filled his father's eyes. An eagerness to make sure the world he was building didn't crumble and Nathaniel didn't want to be the one to cause it. His father might be misguided, but he did love him.

"I won't break it off."

A sigh escaped him. His father walked up to Nathaniel placing a hand on his shoulder. "Believe me son, I have your best interest in heart. The best interest of a lot of people."

His father pulled him into a hug, patting the back of his head like he usually did. He stepped back from him and walked to the door. "I need to get back. I just wanted to stop by for a quick visit."

"To order me about."

His father stopped, turning to focus on him, his eyes narrowing. "I love you, son. You'll see how everything will work out for the best."

His father walked out the door, shutting it and a heaviness settled over Nathaniel. A heaviness he wondered if he could bare. He walked to the couch and flopped down on it and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. His father loved him. He knew it. He used to always try science experiments with him as a kid, or take him to the library so he could pour through science journals explaining the difficult words Nathaniel's had been too young know. He just wished this change hadn't come over him. Making him forget his better judgment. Nathaniel opened his eyes, sitting up, resting his forearms against his legs. Every part of him felt stiff as if he was no more than a board instead of a malleable person. But he was malleable. His father could make him bend to what he wanted. Images of Hannah flickered in his mind. A heat rose in him as he recalled how soft her lips felt. Lips he wanted to kiss for the rest of his days. What should he do about the situation he found himself in? His father wanted him to not break the engagement now, but he didn't say he couldn't be friends with Hannah, so he would continue to pursue such a course. But the question was, could he just be friends with her?

Hannah wrapped her arms around her knees, leaning her chin against them. Her roommate's slight snores filled the room. She should be lost in slumber with them, but sleep evaded her. Thoughts of the kiss and the text floated through her mind. What was the end game? Did these people, whoever they were, want her to do something illegal? She shoved from the bed though it felt like a weight pushed her down. She clenched her phone walking to the bathroom. This was foolish; they wouldn't tell her. But she wanted to ask anyway. Hannah closed the door and locked it, walking towards the bathtub. Taking off her socks, she placed her feet into the fake porcelain tub, the cold seeping through her, matching the chill that had been surrounding her since the last text. She turned on the water, letting steam fill the room. Perhaps, this would provide comfort and help block any sounds from reaching her roommates.

Swiping a finger across her phone, Hannah pulled up the text message sent earlier, refusing to look at the words. The thought of just touching the screen sent chills through her.

She tapped on reply, and quickly wrote, "what do you want?"

Closing her eyes, she listened, counting. 1,2,3 a bing sounded.

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the white tiles. Did she really want to know? Or should she drop this phone into the tub, letting the water take away the words. She took a deep breath letting it out in a smooth stream but still her nerves rattled through her. She had to know. Just had to. She looked at the screen.

You'll see.

See what? A heat pushed through her. She jumped to her feet, her arm slicing through the air. A 'bing' filled the room. She clenched the phone, before it could slip from her hands.

She flipped it around.

Say yes when he asks.

What? She furiously typed on the screen. A binged filled the room again.

You'll know. Don't throw the phone.

Hannah spun around the room - her curls whipping across her face. How? A scream filled her, but she clamped down on it. Who were these people? What did they want? And why?

Hannah slowly lowered to the tub, her arms flinging around her waist, tears slipping down her face. This was not going to end well. She knew it in every fiber of her being.

Chapter Six

Nathaniel scrolled through the article on his cellphone and leaned against a pole helping to keep the stadium roof up. He waited backstage to speak at another event. An image of him filled the screen with the headline Prince of Politics written across. He grimaced. He didn't feel like a prince, but more like the pauper who traded places with the prince. However, the strategy must be working. Polls showed that the conservative candidates' numbers were rising, as they eclipsed the liberals. Would the fate of the nation really come down to how handsome his handlers could make him? Or how Abigale could energize the young men? When did politics enter the realm of Entertainment Weekly?

A group of interns rushed passed him allowing him to catch sight of Hannah; her pony tail flopping behind her. She didn't turn to glance at him, but how he wished she had. Maybe then he could catch her smile. Perhaps tonight, he could entice her to a rooftop rendezvous and get another kiss out of her. A warmth filled him with just the thought. Man he'd like that.

A hand clamped on his shoulder and he turned, looking up at his father's long-time friend current Secretary of State Allen Mitchell wearing a grey suit that stretched over his lean muscular body and matched his pepper-grey hair.

"How's the science experiment going?" he asked, flashing a movie-star smile.

Science experiment? It was no simple kid's game. But then again, he didn't know Mitchell well and had no idea what his father might have told him.

"It's going well. We've been able to get my cube to work on a small scale."

Mitchell raised his black bushy brows. "That close."

"That we are." His gaze slipped to Hannah as she fumbled with some papers. A redness dotted her cheeks and the papers she held shook. Was her sister's accident still bothering her? Tonight he must find a way to speak to her. That kiss couldn't sizzle away. "I'm hoping it will really change things. You know."

"Yes, yes. Don't let anything get in the way of your dreams. Even your father."

Mitchell's eyes wandered away. Nathaniel followed his gaze and noticed he focused on Hannah, as she brushed a loose ringlet out of her face to behind her ear. Did he know? Did they all?

"Marriage can be such a wonderful thing with the right woman." He slapped his shoulder and walked away.

Nathaniel stiffened, gripping his phone. What was he telling him? Marriage? Was he giving him veiled advice? But why would he mention marriage? Yes, he had been in love with Hannah for two years, but they had only been getting to know each other for a month. And most of that had been through texts. He could count on one hand how many times he had been able to meet with her away from the bustle of the campaign. Besides, Hannah was too practical for such a quick marriage.

Nathaniel reached to his lips feeling the warmth, remembering how for a few seconds, she had abandoned herself in his arms. Met his fervent kisses as if she hungered for nothing else. Would she? Would she do something so crazy? Something that would entail Mathis using his expertise to keep it a secret and him defying what he had promised his father.

Hannah dropped a paper and bent to her knees picking it up. As she did she glanced his way, and the smallest of a smile flickered across her face. A smile that told him she just might.

Nathaniel tapped the pencil against the edge of his lips, though a wariness filled every part of him. His body wanted him to lie down, and sink into the sheets. But when his mind raced as it did, with calculations, he knew he had to get his thoughts on paper. Perhaps he was like an author with a scene that wouldn't leave. But instead of dialogue and action, circuits and complex calculations poured from him. Would he be able to manipulate enough microfusion so that the U.S. wouldn't have to depend on oil from Saudi Arabia? And if so, could it generate enough power so a car could travel up and down the east coast of America?

He pressed the pencil to the paper and his hand flew through the numbers, racing to keep up with his thoughts, as his mind quickly solved complex calculations that danced in his mind while trying to nail down just how much fusion they'd need to be able to garner enough energy to power an SUV.

A slight beep sounded behind him. Nathaniel's pen stilled and he turned from the table, covered with a few notebooks, and large leather volumes he had stuck in his suitcase. His cell phone lay on the dresser behind him. It couldn't be Hannah. She had to be asleep by now. When he had left her thirty minutes ago, she had been yawning, her head drooping against his shoulder. A warmth filled him. They had shared a few kisses, and she had let him hold her as he explained his theory on microfusion capabilities. At one point slight sweet puffs of snores flowed from her. Arnold worked the interns too hard. But at least he gathered she was fine, and nothing bothered her.

Nathaniel pushed from the chair, his legs creaking, letting him know he had not moved in a while.

He walked around the partially opened suitcase, with a wrinkled dress shirt tossed to the side. His uniform as Hannah joked. Most women preferred men finely dressed but Hannah seemed to think his blue jeans and robot battle shirts held a certain charm.

He picked up the phone, furrowing his brows. Mitchel was calling. The man had never called before. Nathaniel swiped his finger against the phone display and raised it to his ear.

"Hello," he said, bending his head to the side.

"Hey Nathaniel , how are you?"

"Tired." Nathaniel turned and walked to the couch, plopping down and letting his head fall back against the furniture, weariness over taking him.

"I bet you are. Arnold and your father have you two working so hard. And I imagine you're working on that research every night."

A chuckle escaped him. Everyone knew how passionate he was about it. "Yeah, I have."

Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair as he clamped down on a yawn. Did he call just to chit chat? Or was there something else going on? This was the second time, he had mentioned Nathaniel's goal.

"Look, I spoke with your father earlier."

Nathaniel stiffened, his arm dropping. And what did his father have to say?

"I hope this conversation doesn't seem out of place, but I just can't help it."

Help it. What did he mean by that?

"I just don't want to see someone pushed down the wrong path. My father had tried that with me once."

Nathaniel swallowed, feeling nerves rattle through him. Where was this conversation going?" "Okay?"

"I know he's got plans for you. Plans involving Sylar's daughter."

Nathaniel nodded even though Mitchel couldn't see him.

"Look, I want you to know Mary and I have something real special. Perfect no, but special. Follow your heart okay. True love can leave scars but not as badly as a loveless marriage. Did that get through your science laden brain?"

Nathaniel chuckled, stretching out his legs, wishing the nerves would settle. Mitchel just wanted to offer him advice. Advice that might make a decision he faced harder. "But it will all blow up if I do."

"Then let it. Not your problem. Besides, there are ways to keep things quiet until after the election. I know you've been looking at rings. Mathis has mentioned it."

Mathis? Why would Mathis be talking to him?

"I'll help if you two decide to have a quiet wedding. Okay?"

Something seemed odd. But he couldn't quite place it. Maybe he was just overacting. Maybe there was nothing to it. No one else seemed to want him and Hannah together. Maybe Mitchell really was looking out for Nathaniel's best interest since no one else was. That had to be it. He knew the decision Nathaniel faced. He was trying to help him make the right one. But what about his research? He looked back at his suitcase, noticing the model sitting on top of some clothes.

"He won't fund my research."

A harsh chuckle escaped Mitchell. "Someone will, believe me. Look, I got to go. Talk to you later."

Nathaniel said goodbye and ended the call. Yeah, but he wasn't quite ready to look for someone else. Someone else might demand full control or he might unwittingly sale his research to a company wanting to crush it for profit's sake. No, that was a path he wasn't ready to walk down right now, but one he might need to consider.

Nathaniel tossed the phone to the side and glanced at his computer. He had been looking at rings. Beautiful white gold rings with emeralds that reminded him of the color of her eyes. Soft round rings as simple as her style.

He had even shown Mathis a few. His friend had just stared at him, slowly shaking his head. Why would Mathis have mentioned this to Mitchel? His friend barely ever spoke a word.

Nathaniel pushed from the leather couch and made his way to a computer, sliding the mouse. A small ring with a silver ban and a princess cut emerald took up most of the screen. That was the one he wanted. The one he knew would be perfect.

Nathaniel straightened from where he leaned over the computer. But was it too soon? Hannah was such a sensible girl. There was no way she'd just jump into a marriage. And if he asked too soon, he could scare her away. But if he didn't ask soon, she might hear rumors of his engagement and he could lose her. Nathaniel closed his eyes. Lord, he mumbled. What do I do?

He stopped speaking and listened for the voice of the Lord. A voice he swore many heard, but he never had. Perhaps because he wasn't that strong of a Christian. He hardly ever did pick up his Bible. He wasn't a reader, unless the book intricately described in fine details some scientific principle and then he couldn't devour the book fast enough.

Nathaniel opened his eyes. He was letting himself get sidetracked. He turned, pulling his shirt off and dropping it to the floor. He needed to sleep, get some rest. Perhaps the situation would play out through some randomness of the universe.

Chapter Seven

Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked down the burgundy carpeted hotel hallway on her way for another secret meeting with Nathaniel. They had been meeting more frequently, sharing rooftop rendezvouses as they cuddled, seeking warmth against the chilled air or having dinner dates over soda and garlicky pizza oozing with cheese while they became better acquainted with each other.

Hannah wiped a ringlet out of her eye. Tonight, though, would be different. And that difference made her nerves rattle. There would be no rooftop rendezvous or dinner in a private dining room. No, they'd be meeting in his hotel room. Hannah took a deep breath and slowly released it, hoping to calm her nerves but knowing, it wouldn't work. Nathaniel was a gentleman. Always treated her with respect and never asked for more than she was willing to give. So why was she afraid? Because the more time she spent with him, the more her heart knitted to his. And that knot became stronger with every meeting and made her want to give him more and more of her. And the more she gave of herself, the more she felt treacherous. She tried to push the dark feeling that seeped into her away, but it never worked. There hadn't been any texts in weeks. So why did she feel so much fear? A fear that grew the more her feelings for Nathaniel deepened. Was it the thoughts that circulated in her mind? Thoughts that they would force her to betray the man she cared so deeply for. She already felt like a Judas with each kiss she gave him. His vulnerable heart would shatter if he learned the truth. A truth she wished to hide from him. But wondered if she could continue to.

In the distance, she spotted Nathaniel's ever faithful shadow who could fill the room with his presence but never said a word. The routine shudder slipped over her. Did that man realize how formidable he looked or was it just her guilty conscience affecting her? Mathis stood in front of the door, with his hands crossed in front of his waist and his glasses covering his eyes. His broad shoulders and muscular arms could not be hidden by the suit he wore. This man could take her out with one swipe of his hand. And he would because as Nathaniel had told her, Mathis had been protecting him since he was a boy.

She stopped outside the door, biting on her bottom lip.

He nodded and opened the door to the hotel room.

Hannah stepped in, and a lightness filled her. Nathaniel stood in the center of the room with a small bouquet of lavender roses and a seductive but boyish smile on his face. A smile that complemented the blue jeans and long-sleeve black t-shirt with the PI symbol on it. A flutter crossed her heart. Man she was falling hard, and there didn't seem to be a way to stop the momentum of her descent.

Off to the side stood a table with candles sitting in crystal stands and two bowls filled with pink, probably strawberry ice-cream. Her favorite. A romantic lurked in this boy. She glanced around wondering where the gadget was. He always had a gadget he fiddled with, splitting wires, or examining the intricate mechanisms that made the device work. But she didn't see any.

"Look at you." A giggle escaped her as she walked closer to him.

He shrugged his shoulders, a blush covering his cheeks. "Just trying to seduce you."

The laugh flew from her. What a clown. "Does that mean no science lesson tonight?"

"Just a small one." He raised his fingers and pitched two together. "On the possibility of alternate universes."

More giggles escaped her as she walked to him, and took the lavender roses from him, holding them to her nose and taking a long sniff, letting the sweet floral scent fill her as she peeked at him above them. A strong desire to flutter her lashes overcame her. And before she could stop herself, they moved on their own accord. A redness seeped across his face as his eyes widened. Man, this boy could turn her into a flirt.

Nathaniel reached to a petal, making her still as his eyes locked on hers, his finger caressing the petal at the same time her cheek. She could stand here forever. Perhaps he could to.

"The ice cream is melting," she whispered.

He nodded, and gently shoved the flowers aside, exposing her face. "Hannah, you have no idea."

Nor did he. She licked her lips, before he leaned down and touched their lips together in a gentle caress. Something sharp ran through her, making her answer him. He sat back, his eyes locking onto hers. Eyes that seemed filled with the secrets of the universe. The air electrified around them, making her fill with energy and the desire to give him everything she could

"We should eat," he said, his voice husky

She nodded and turned for the table taking a seat. Though she had turned from him, the spell he cast over her still entranced her, making her want to rush into his arms. Where would tonight lead?

Hannah let the last silky spoonful of strawberry ice cream slip into her mouth, and set her spoon down. She leaned back, crossing her arms around her full stomach staring at Nathaniel. A smudge of chocolate dotted a corner of his lips complementing his handsome, awkward style.

"Did you enjoy it?" he asked.

"It was quite silky."

Nathaniel stood, offering her his hand. She took it and followed him over to the couch, sitting next to him and letting him rest his arm around her shoulders. Something about this embrace made her feel warm. Safe. And broke down her defenses.

Nathaniel ran a finger down her cheek, twirling a curl around his finger. How long should she let that dot of chocolate stay there? Her gaze slipped to it, knowing that it covered one of the softest places of his face. A place she just loved to kiss.

Nathaniel leaned forward. "I have to tell you about the last Cosmos."

A smile slipped across her face. He couldn't have said anything less endearing. "Tell me about it."

"They were talking about string theory and how it might relate to space...."

Before he could lose her in a ramble of science jargon, Hannah smashed her lips against his, licking up the dot - allowing more than milk chocolate to excite her taste buds. His arms flew around her, and he smashed their bodies together. Emotions swirled around her. Filling her. Hannah swung her arms around his neck meeting his kisses, in their own awkward dance they had perfected. A dance that drew her to him, making intense emotions she didn't realize existed overtake her. Her mother had never told how alive, and powerful a kiss could make one. But now she knew. And all Hannah wanted was to stay in this awkward dance.

Something cold slid over her back. Hannah stiffened and stilled as Nathaniel's fingers bumped her side, playing with the edge of her shirt. Lifting. She had never.... She shoved back as a heat spread across her face. Swallowing hard, she focused on Nathaniel's wide eyes.

"Hannah, I am...." He stopped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I...."

She jumped to her feet, wrapping her arms around her waist, looking at the door. She should leave, get out of here but not one part of her wanted to. "Nathaniel, we're playing a dangerous game."

Nathaniel walked in front of her, his mouth hanging half open like he wanted to speak but didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "but how will we see each other?"

"I...." Hannah turned from him brushing a curl from her face. She swallowed still tasting his kiss. A taste of peppermint he always ate before their visits. She had no idea what to say to him. Because he was right. They had to keep seeing each other. Her gaze dropped to the light tan carpet with gold threaded flowers. And not just because they were falling for each other.

"I love you," Nathaniel said. "And I don't care what you feel about me."

Hannah slowly turned towards him; her mind reeling. Was he going there? Saying more than just hints.

An intensity burned in his eyes. Whatever he was about to tell her, he believed deeply. "Hannah, what if I can keep our union a secret?"

Tears gathered in her eyes. No. It was too soon. Foolish. She wanted to tell him to wait. But could she? A sense of dread seemed to fill every part of her. Could someone be listening now? Someone who wanted her to say 'yes' but never specified. Did they mean 'yes' to some rushed proposal he might have?

"How?" Her voice sounded like a squeak.

"Mathis. He'll know how. He has connections. CIA connections."

Hannah ran a hand through her hair. She could only tell him one thing. Couldn't she?

Hannah pushed her eyelids closed as a tear slipped from her. It had been a long time since she imagined a man proposing to her, her wedding day, or happy ever after. Not since she saw her sister's busted bloody lip, and the scrape marks that ran down her body, like a river stream, with overflowing red water.

But Nathaniel made those images disappear, as his light blue eyes invaded her thoughts, pushing away the fears of what a man can do.

"Hannah, I'm sorry. I don't want to push you. I just.... I'll wait."

Wait? Could she buy some time? Some time to think.

She turned and looked at his watery blue eyes. He looked so lost. What a pair they made. He was lost and she was trapped. Hannah nodded and walked to the door, gripping it. She opened it and walked out. Hopefully, whoever they were, would be satisfied with waiting.

Chapter Eight

There were just too many people. Hannah stumbled after the small group before her, getting shoved to the side by reaching arms. Shoulders rammed into her, as she slipped flyers into outstretched hands. The smell of sweat and a million different perfumes assaulted her nose.

She just needed to keep an eye on Mathis. Hannah looked up, catching sight of his long black coat, his tall body blocking Nathaniel's as he guarded him.

This was insane. She turned back to a group of girls, in skimpy tank tops screaming out Nathaniel's name.

Whose idea was this? Having Nathaniel walk among the crowd shaking hands like they were the candidates. But then again no one thought teenage sex appeal would drive numbers so high that, pollsters started interviewing, more of the 18 to 22 demographic asking if they'd actually vote.

She stumbled as a young girl with blonde hair jumped to her side ramming into her.

"He's hotter in person," she said, her eyes full of a lustful sparkle.

Heat burned through Hannah. A jealous heat. She took a deep breath and pasted on a smile, "Then make sure you vote, this November." She shoved a voter registration flyer at the girl.

The girl snapped it out of her hand, pulling it close to her chest. "I will. I will. I'd do anything for him."

"Thanks," Hannah said, looking away and stopping. Where were they? She couldn't see Mathis's back as the crowd of young people surrounded her, enclosing around her like she was no more than a rock in a stream. She swallowed hard. They had moved on that quickly.

The crowd enclosed more around her, everyone's back facing her.

"Excuse me," she tried to shout, and push through but no one paid her any heed. The crowd moved on, pushing her along, others stepping in front of her. She turned to look at the stage, blocked by a wall of people. Could she get back to it? But how could she wade through the crowd?

A hand gripped her arm. She flinched and her gaze snapped up. A man with dark tan skin wearing sunglasses stared at her. He wore a suit like he was in the service. But was he? She didn't recognize him. In fact, his hair looked like that man. The man who had been staring at her before she ever met Nathaniel.

He yanked her, half dragging her, her feet stumbling to catch up. "I'll get you to where you belong."

She couldn't let him take her. She pulled back yanking, but he yanked her forward, his arm circling her back as he crushed her to him.

He bent kissing her head as if they were a couple. "I know the sniper," he whispered.

"Sniper?" Her voice cracked.

"The one watching your sister right now."

Her breath rushed from her. Her sister. Her precious sister. He rushed her towards the stage, up the steps, and pushed her behind the makeshift curtain. Her gaze darted around the enclosure. It was empty. Only a few lost papers lay on the stone floor.

He spun her, shoving her back against a metal bar, her breath pushing from her. Her head snapped back against the steel bar. Pain shot through her. A hand gripped her hair, squeezing. A foul heated breath scented with whiskey filled the space between them.

"You didn't say yes."

Hannah opened her eyes a slit as tears raced down her face. "Why?"

He slammed her head back. Pain ricocheted over her. An intense shaking followed.

"You didn't say yes." He stepped closer. So close, she could fill his breath on her cheeks.

"I know," she whispered.

Something metal pressed against her ear. A ringing sounded.

"Just listen."

"Hey," her sister answered.

Hannah scrunched her eyes closed. Dear Lord, if you're real please protect her.

"Hannah, are you there?"

Shots pierced the background. Her sister screamed.

A gasp pushed from her as a hand clamped over her mouth.

In the background her sister cried. "Mom, someone shot out the windows."

The man yanked the phone from Hannah's ears, "Next time they won't miss." He spun from her marching off.

Hannah's arms flew around her, as she crumbled to the ground. The cold concrete pushed through her pants chilling her. Tears poured down her face. No, no, no. This wasn't happening. But it was. Why had she been a fool? She knew they could get to her sister. She shoved her palms into her eyes as the world swirled around her. Images flashed through her mind. Images she tried to push away. Images of her sister lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. A bullet between her eyes. Who were these people? Whoever they were they knew her weakness. Knew she'd do anything to keep her sister from being hurt again. "Lord," she whispered.

A hand gripped her arm, yanking her up. She screamed. Slamming her fist. It connected. A grunt sounded. No, No. She swung again, but a hand gripped it. She was spun around. The air flying from her. Two oak arms wrapped around her, pinning. What did they want now?

"Please," she cried.

She was spun around. Her pony tail slapping her face.

"What happened?" asked a deep voice.

Hannah's eyes flew open.

Mathis stood before her. Glasses off. Steel in his eyes. Did he see the exchange? "I just got lost."

He took a few steps closer, pushing his lips in a thin line. "Who was that man?"

Her pulse raced through her as she stumbled against the steel bar.

"The one walking away," he said.

How much did he see? "He....He...."

"Hannah." Julie rushed to her, throwing her arms around her. "Hannah, did someone attack you?"

Attack. "Yes" she cried. May all victims forgive her. "He wanted...." She clamped her mouth closed.

"Oh Hannah." Julie pulled her closer.

"He got scared off."

Though tears covered her gaze, she stared at Mathis who focused on her with narrowed eyes. He didn't believe her.

"Let's get you back. You've got everyone scared," Julie said.

Her friend wrapped her other arm around her pulling her head close to her shoulder, leading her away. Hannah looked over her shoulder where Mathis stood focused on her. A coldness swept through her body, chilling every part of her. What would he do now?

Nathaniel's heart leapt as the group came into view. What had happened? Dear Lord, had someone attacked her. The blonde girl had Hannah wrapped in her arms while Hannah seemed to be sobbing - her shoulders rising and falling. Darn the press. Nathaniel pushed from the glass window and raced through the bus door that separated him from his love. Several agents rushed after him, calling his name. He was supposed to stay on the bus. That was the agreement when he demanded they find Hannah and not leave, but he had no care now.

He rushed to Hannah, gripping her arm and pulling her to him. Immediately his arms flew around her, shielding her. Her sobs soaked into his shirt, calling to his protective nature. What had happened to her? Did someone harm her? If they had. His hand gripped in a fist. He would make sure they paid.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked.

She said nothing, just clenched his shirt tighter - her nails scraping his skin. But he didn't care. Let her scratch him. At least she clung to him. He lay his head against hers and rocked her in slow sway.

"I will protect you. I promise. What happened?" he whispered

"Someone tried to rape her," an intern whispered next to him. Heat flared through him. An intense boiling heat. His gaze snapped up, locking with Mathis's. His friend better have killed the man.

Mathis stood stock still, eyes narrowed, hands folded in front of him. Why the stance? The stoic look? Didn't he care?

He turned back to Hannah, stroking the curls on her cheek. "Sh," he whispered. "I will protect you."

And he would. He no longer cared what others thought. Believed. A fear had sliced through him, when he realized, she wasn't with them. A fear that wasn't unfounded.

Nathaniel noticed the agents had surrounded them. creating a barrier. He needed to get her inside where she'd be safe. He turned and led her towards the bus. A million eyes followed them. Arnold would chastise him. But what did he care. He loved this girl. And he'd fight for her. "Call the authorities," he said to an agent who just nodded.

He then led her onto the bus, and everyone quieted. Arnold stood in the back, arms crossed. Redness covered his face matching his pinched lips. Nathaniel walked down the bus aisle and stopped in front of him. "Say something and I'll quit."

Arnold's eyes widened.

Nathaniel led Hannah past him to the back of the bus, and through the door that separated him from the interns.

Abigail stood, clutching a book. Her mouth half open. Nathaniel led Hannah to a seat and sat, bringing her onto his lap, letting her cling to him. Her tears had lessened, and only the slight puffs of her breath could be heard. She buried her face in his shoulder, blocking her eyes. But he imagined they were red rimmed and her cheeks were wet.

He snuggled his nose into her hair. "Hannah, tell me what to do?"

She lifted her watery eyes - peeking at him from above his chest and making an ache spread through him. What had that man done to her?

"Yes," she whispered, before reburying her face.

He stilled, his arms clenching tighter around her. Yes? What did she mean by yes? Yes, she'd marry him?

He pulled her tighter to him. Why was she saying yes now? Did she feel unclean? But no one could ever defy the pureness he saw in her. Nathaniel planted a kiss on her head. "As soon as you're ready," he whispered.

"Soon," her words floated to him.

Nathaniel scooted a little from her, dislodging her face. She focused on her lap, as tears slipped down her cheeks, falling on her hands. He took her chin and tipped it to his face, running a finger over her reddened skin. "No matter what happened, it won't change my love for you."

"Oh Nathaniel , don't say that." She flung her arms back around his neck as sobs ripped through her, her body shuddering with each gasp.

Nathaniel caressed her back wishing there was some way he could calm her, but he knew it would take time. Time he would give her. No matter what. Even if she wasn't ready, he'd marry her. He'd marry her as soon as he could have Mathis arrange it.

Nathaniel walked into the hotel room, and stopped, focusing on the form lying on the canopy bed barely made visible by the flickering candle light. Good she was there. He had asked for Hannah to be taken to his room. She lay under a bundle of blankets with just a hand and a few curls peeking out; almost like she hid. His heart ached. He longed to snuggle beside her and soothe her - letting her know she was precious to him. But he would have to marry her first for that right.

A slight knock sounded at his door. Mathis must be here. He walked to the door and looked through the peephole noticing Mathis talking to the guard.

Would he ever get used to having agents always around him? But he guessed that was a part of the package when one's father tried to be a king.

He opened the door, and motioned for Mathis to be quiet.

His friend walked in and his eyes narrowed on Hannah, as he pushed his lips into a thin line. What was that look for? Did Mathis have something against her?

Nathaniel shook his head, and motioned for his friend to follow him to a small balcony, letting the cool air swirl around him, but it couldn't cool the heat that pushed through him. Never again would he let someone hurt his love.

The sound of catlike steps followed him. Mathis could have been an assassin, with his silent steps, stoic look, and dark eyes that revealed nothing. But somewhere lost under the hard exterior was a soul that desired nothing more than to help those in need. He had been protecting Nathaniel since 2nd grade when the bullies would harass him. So why did he seem to have some kind of discontent with Hannah? She needed help.

Nathaniel shut the door and leaned against the metal rail, staring at the sky. No stars were out tonight. Only an endless blackness was available for viewing. A storm must be brewing. Just like the one about to erupt around him. What would his father say, do when he found out, he had rebelled and married Hannah? He had spoken with Miller earlier, who promised he'd handle matters and now he just waited for a call giving him the go ahead.

"Something's going on," Mathis said.

Nathaniel focused on his friend. He seemed to fill up the small patio with his massive frame shrouded in a black coat. "Of course there is. Someone attacked Hannah."

"Something beyond that."

Nathaniel straightened bending his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Weird inconsistencies. If that man was trying to rape her, before I found her then...."

"You scared him off."

"He didn't see me."

"She fought back."

"I saw no bruising on her hands."

Nathaniel slowly shook his head. This conversation was farcical. He had the best trained people around him right now. The thought that someone dangerous could get as close to him as Hannah had, seemed to defy some universal law. Nathaniel pushed to fully stand and crossed his arms over his chest. "Wouldn't someone have picked up on something? I mean you guys are probably running surveillance on people's calls. Have you picked up on anything?"

"No."

"Then nothing's going on."

"What if that man was delivering a message?"

"For what?"

"I don't know."

This was unbelievable. Nathaniel held up a hand. "He wasn't. Hannah got separated and he took an opportunity."

"Nath....."

"No." Nathaniel sliced a hand through the air. "You guys have investigated her, I'm sure. And you have found nothing? Right?"

Mathis just folded his hands in front of his waist and focused on him, giving him that deep cavernous stare. A stare he imagined made others quake in their boots but not him. He knew Mathis too well.

Nathaniel dropped his hand to his side. "Look, I know, you're doing your job and you're an awesome friend. But I'm telling you there is nothing to worry about."

Mathis remained quiet, his way of disagreeing without having to voice one word. Someday he'd drive a girl crazy if he'd ever let one get close to him.

"Let's drop this. We need to work on arranging a quiet marriage for Hannah and me. Mitchell...."

"No."

Heat flared in him, making him want to shout. What, was he jealous or something? "What do you mean no?"

"There's....."

"No there isn't. There nothing," he yelled.

"Then wait."

He was tired of waiting. Nathaniel walked to Mathis pushing up on his toes staring at his steel blue eyes. "Aren't you paid to help me?"

"I'm paid to protect you."

"I'm a man, Mathis." He pounded on his chest. "Not a boy. Maybe you don't realize that. I don't need you to beat up the bullies anymore. Help arrange it. Or quit."

Mathis narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Arrange it," he growled out.

"You're going to get killed." Mathis turned, and strode out the door, shutting it.

Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat gathering at the back of his neck. Why did he think Hannah could be involved in something sinister? Something was just not adding up. Mathis was no fool. He didn't make rash accusations or assumptions. No, he was a well-trained agent, sniffing out clues, finding answers. Should he listen to him? Wait? An image of Hannah filled his mind. Hannah clinging to him, clenching him, as if he was the only life line she had. No Hannah needed him. Wanted him. There was no way she could be involved in anything corrupt.

The door opened making Hannah's heart clench as she gripped the blanket. Raised voices had awakened her, but the thickness of the walls and the fog in her head made it hard for her to hear what the argument was about.

The cat light steps didn't sound like the shoveling that always preceded Nathaniel. She swallowed hard as a dark form, filled the corner of her eye. She looked over the top of the blanket. The large form stepped in front of her and Mathis with his dark, sharp eyes filled her vision. A rattling slipped over her as a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. He suspected her.

"What game do you play?" he whispered.

Hannah's bottom lip trembled as she fought for words. What should she say? Tell him? Should she beg for them to rush to her sister and save her? But that sniper would shoot her dead before she finished her sentence.

"I love him," she whispered.

"I will find out." Mathis turned, and with quiet steps left the room.

Tears slipped down her face, dropping to her hands. She needed to do something. But there was nothing she could do. She would just continue playing whatever game they wanted. Hopefully it wouldn't cost her one of the two people she loved.

But one thing was clear, Mathis would break her neck before she had a chance to plead her case. If she could just find someone to help her.

Slight crashing of water sounded in the distance while the branches brushed against her white dress. Hannah turned and smiled at Nathaniel as he picked a leaf off a nearby tree, examining it before tossing it over his shoulder. No gears, or pulses pushing through it. Must not be that interesting. A giggle escaped her, and she turned back around, focusing on the narrow dirt trail they walked down. How had he gotten away - found a moment that just the two of them could enjoy together, losing themselves in this beautiful aged forest with oak trees that reached up to the sky, only allowing slight beams of light to pierce through the canopy of green and brown leaves. Birds chirped around her and the scuttle of animals jumping from branch to branch surrounded them. She couldn't wait to see the surprise he had promised her. A surprise that waited at the end of the trail

Nathaniel stopped, making her stumble. Hannah turned. Her hand dropping to her side. Where did he go? Her pulse sped through as she spun around, looking at the trees that surrounded them, inching closer? She stopped, her heart pounding. There was no more dirt trail. Just trees.

"Nathaniel," she mumbled. A roar sounded behind her. She spun, losing her footing. Waves crashed over her as water enveloped her, pulling her down. Her lungs burn, as she gasped, water pouring through her. She kicked her legs, and swam upward but her body continued to sink. The sun growing smaller. She focused on it, willing herself to move, to reach it, but water raced above her, like it was sand, pushing her further into a dark abyss. She was going to die. Die before she could ever tell Nathaniel she was sorry. Was this her due? Her due for betraying him. She thrashed her arms, trying to grip something. Trying to pull herself forward. But her body rushed down like a bullet racing through the water.

"Help," she cried. Wouldn't someone help her?

A hand sliced through the water.

She again pumped her legs. Thrashed her arms. If she could just get that hand. A hand larger than Nathaniel's. Was it Mathis? But Mathis wouldn't save her. He knew her guilt.

She stretched her arms, her fingers reaching. But she couldn't get to it. Why couldn't she get to the hand? A blackness dipped around her. Though an ache filled her, she sliced her arms through the water. But a weight slowed them until her limbs stilled. A peace surrounded her but wouldn't fill her.

The hand still reached though she sunk more. As the blackness overcome her, a still small voice whispered, "Let me help."

"Nathaniel," Hannah cried, pushing up from the bed, the sheets falling from her body. Her chest rose and fell in sharp staccato movement. Feet pounded in the room and two strong arms wrapped around her pulling her close.

Nathaniel. She twisted her body - her hands racing over his face, arms, and chest. He was here. "Why did you leave me?"

"Leave you?"

"Yes."

Nathaniel leaned back and flicked on a light. His wide blue eyes focused on her as he pushed her sweaty hair out of her face. "What do you mean leave you?"

Tears rushed down her cheeks as she leaned her forehead against his chest. His arms once again wrapped around her and he pulled her close.

"It was just a bad dream. I would never leave you," he said.

How she hoped that was true. But she knew every second she betrayed him and when he found out, he'd probably run from her. She clenched onto his shoulders wanting to hold him tighter. She just couldn't lose him.

"Tell me about it," he whispered.

Hannah buried her face more into his chest. She wished she could, but how could she explain it. She had felt herself die. The air left her body as the darkness of death claimed her. But she had also felt hope. Why? Was it the hand? What could that hand mean? Why would a hand reach for her but not grasp her? And why couldn't she grasp it when it was mere inches from her.

"Hannah." A thumb ran across her cheek. "Was it of the attack?"

"No."

"Then, what?"

Hannah took a deep breath and released it, feeling her nerves rattle through her. "I was drowning. And I couldn't grab the hand reaching for me."

"You couldn't grasp my hand."

"It wasn't yours, but I don't know whose it was. But I felt peace looking at it."

"Huh?" he said, his hand stilling on her head. "Maybe it was God's."

God. The God that allowed Savannah to be destroyed by the monster. Something dark rose in her, pushing through her. "God doesn't help people." she said through clenched teeth.

Nathaniel pushed her from him and stared at her, mouth half hung open. "There's a lot of bitterness in that statement."

"He didn't help Savannah. So I have no more need of him."

Nathaniel moved his jaw, like he had something he wanted to say but didn't know how quite to phrase it. Finally he spoke, "I don't know why, God didn't intervene. I don't have answers. I just know I believe he can."

Her science wired love was a believer. Hannah turned, lying down, and pulling the sheets to her shoulders. Figures the man she loved would be a believer. Everyone around her was. Even Sav who had the most reason not to be clung to God.

The bed creaked as Nathaniel lay down beside her pulling her into his arms. "Hannah, I know you have a lot of reasons to be angry. But please keep your heart open."

Hannah rolled over, looking at his handsome face. Her body yearned to mold against his, to pull him into her arms, and soothe the pain she saw in his eyes. But the thought of loving him with her body, when each second she betrayed him, sent chills slicing through her. She let a smile slip across her face. "Okay, but you better go back to the couch."

'Soon,' he mouthed, before slipping from the bed and taking his warmth with him leaving a coldness in his wake. She pulled the sheets back up, wanting to chase the chill away but knowing it was fruitless. She closed her eyes, but they immediately popped back open. An image flickered across her mind. She had gone to see her sister at the hospital. Her sister lay in the bed, both legs in a cast. Gashes closed by stitches and black and dark blue bruises decorated her face. Sav lay in that bed clutching a small purple leather Bible. Her watery blue eyes focused on it.

Hannah had wanted to rip it from her hands and throw it away, but Sav wouldn't let her. As tears streamed down Sav's face, she whispered words of prayers, rereading Psalms 6 over and over again. The more Sav clung to the Lord, the more Hannah turned. Hannah wiped a warm tear from her cheek but another soon took its place. She had been raised in the church. New all the mythic stories and theology like Sav. But to her it was all just fairy tales. Why did Sav cling to it and not her? Maybe because she could see things clearly unlike Sav who had had all hope stripped from her. So Sav clung to a hope that couldn't possibly disappoint her, because it was a hope that did nothing.

But Nathaniel wanted her to keep her mind open. She didn't quite know how, but perhaps she should for him. Maybe it'd help soften the blow that would soon pound against him.

Nathaniel watched as Hannah disappeared under a mound of blankets, and adjusted before stilling. Perhaps, her sleep would be more peaceful now. He turned, walking back to the couch where a blanket and pillow waited. He had an urge to slip his hands in his pockets, but his flannel pants contain none, so he settled with folding them behind his back. Hannah held such bitterness to God, blaming Him for her sister's pain. He could see why she might; however, he still wished he could make her see the beauty of the Lord. But he was so new in the faith. Just months if that. He sat on the couch and leaned his head back as weariness settled over him. Mathis had talked him into going with him to a concert before the campaign started, not telling him it was a Christian rock band. At the concert the band's music spoke of a father's acceptance. A father who would forgive one for their shortcomings. This band's music touched Nathaniel, making him yearn for such a father. How nice would it be to have one that wanted to love him right where he was, and wouldn't push him to be someone he wasn't. Somewhere during that night he had let prayers slip into his heart that changed him forever. Though it was small, his faith was important to him.

Nathaniel ran his hands through his hair. Wasn't there a verse about not being unequally yoked? Hadn't Mathis showed him such a verse when his father pushed him to get engaged to the heiress? Surely the Lord didn't mean he shouldn't marry Hannah. Hannah might not have faith, but what could be the harm. Beside he would find a way to make her see that God was not cruel. That God did love her. But how? So much bitterness filled her. Maybe he could pray for her. That was what he'd do.

Nathaniel closed his eyes, and tried to clear it of his racing thoughts. Once cleared, he took a deep breath and said, Lord, she is yours. Please help her find you. Please. Help her with the bitterness. And please bless our marriage.

He opened his eyes staring at the grey outlines of the furniture in the room. Somehow the Lord would work everything out. He just knew it.

Chapter Nine

Mathis' glare bore into Nathaniel as if it dug deep into his flesh. He'd get over it. Especially once he realized Hannah met no harm. Nathaniel folded the piece of paper the well-paid clerk had delivered them and handed it to the minister. He glanced at the clerk with short-cropped white hair and a stooped back. She would serve as a witness - Mathis the other. The clerk had signed a strong confidentiality agreement that promised $500,000 now if she allowed the agents to get the license in secret and $500,000 later if she kept her mouth shut until after the election. She wouldn't cause any trouble especially since she approached retirement with little set aside, but now would have enough to see her through.

No, his concern was keeping the marriage a secret from his father. A task that would pose a challenge especially if Arnold found out. But his father had told Arnold to back off and let Nathaniel keep Hannah as a mistress so maybe the ruse would keep the true nature of the relationship hidden.

Tension filled him. He hated to let others think such a thing about her, but she had agreed.

Nathaniel ran his hand through his hair, and stilled at the cat like steps that approached him. His arm dropped to his side and he turned to his friend, who stood in front of him with a glare in his eyes. "Have you found anything?" Nathaniel asked.

"You used to trust my instincts."

"And I still do, but you're wrong about her."

"Nathaniel...."

"You're my employee. Not boss." Nathaniel turned from him and walked towards a table where a glass of water waited. His throat was dry. He snatched the glass off and took a long sip, glancing at Mathis over the glass. His friend's mouth hung half open. His eyes slightly wide. Nathaniel had never seen such a hurt look on his face.

Nathaniel lowered the glass as guilt pricked at him. He shouldn't have placed him in such a category with that statement. And he knew that was how Mathis took it. But he needed him to understand. He was not going to give Hannah up. He had waited too long for her. Way too long.

The door clicked and his heart leapt. He set the glass down and folded his hands in front of his waist. Finally, she'd be his.

Hannah stopped not looking at the agents who stood on either side of the door with their hands crossed in front of their waists and glasses over their eyes. She held the door knob as her pulse raced through her. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, holding it in. How soon after Nathaniel and she wed, would They make their next demand? How long would it be until she finally learned what they wanted?

A huge weight pushed down on her, making each breath hard to take. She wanted to run, flee, but knew that if she did, her sister would pay.

Guilt meshed with a rattling fear filled her body. In the next few moments, she would pledge her loyalty to a man she had deep feelings for, even though she would have to break those vows soon. A young man who she knew would be crushed. But would he understand? Would he care when she told him of the violence they threatened her sister with? Would he forgive her? Would he still be alive? Please no, she pleaded to whom she didn't know. What if they were using her to get close to him, so they could take his life? Snuff him out for some political or financial game? She released the breath and opened her eyes. She had been woolgathering too long. She needed to get in and get the wedding over with, before she rattled right out of her skin.

Hannah turned the knob fully and walked in. A heat ran through her, making a smile nip at the corners of her lips. Nathaniel stood in the middle of the room, in a suit complete with a tie. His hair was slicked back making his blue eyes stand out. Man he was handsome. The most handsome young man she had ever seen.

He walked to her with quick swift steps, gripping her elbows and pulling her close. 'Thanks you,' he mouthed.

She bit on her bottom lip as the guilt washed over her again. Why couldn't he just want her for sex? That would make it easier to carry out Their plans.

His brows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

A nervous chuckle escaped her. "I'm just nervous."

He nodded, but narrowed his eyes. Did he wonder if she lied?

"It's just...." she said.

He placed a finger against her lips and leaned down to her ear. "You look beautiful."

Nathaniel helped her take off her coat, draping it over a chair and then handed her, her lavender flower bouquet. Wrapping his arm around her back, he pulled her close and walked her to where a group waited.

He stopped, and she glanced up taking a step back. A man holding a Bible stood in front of her. He was obviously the minister. A slight smile crossed his face before he turned, looking at Nathaniel. "Shall we begin?" he asked.

"Yes." Nathaniel turned, his arm slipping from her back as he took her hands, and focused on her.

If there was a God in heaven please, let her not have to betray him. Let them just be playing some nefarious joke. Because as Nathaniel looked at her with such love shining from his eyes, an ache shattered through her heart. How could she ever betray such love? Such trust?

The Pastor began his introduction as Mathis stepped to Nathaniel's side - his glare fixing on her. A coldness filtered through her making her swallow hard. How she wished he would just do something - to stop this farce. To keep Nathaniel from being hurt. He knew she was guilty so why didn't he? Hannah shook her head and looked back at Nathaniel, focusing on his eyes, letting him transfix her. Had anyone ever told him, how beautiful his eyes were? They were a lovely combination of intelligence, strength and innocence mixed into one mesmerizing potion that could still her the moment their eyes locked onto one another? What would they look like when she betrayed him?

"I do," he said.

She flinched. I do. He had just made promises to her. Promises she hadn't even heard. Perhaps it was best, since she wasn't worthy of such promises.

"And do you....."

Hannah's gaze dropped. She knew what was coming, knew she'd be required to say yes. But 'no' burned behind her lips. Not because she didn't love him, or desire to have a relationship with him, but because she knew with a yes, she'd be lying. A lie that would be colder than a winter night, colder than the arctic waters. Colder than the chill that seeped over her heart. A shiver slipped in her, reaching deep. How could she promise till death do us part, when she might have to lead him to such an event. Tears gathered in her. Could she even go through with something like that? She wasn't a monster. A murderer. No, she could never hurt someone. A tear slipped down her cheek, trailing until it dropped to the floor, landing on her white shoe. A whiteness that represented a purity that just wasn't true. It didn't matter if she was being forced into this. She was still covered in the black guilt.

"Hannah?"

Her gaze snapped up.

Nathaniel's mouth half hung open - his eyes wide.

Was it time? Time for her to betray him in the cruelest way ever. She needed to say no and flee. She glanced at the door. Could she make it in time?

Nathaniel took a step closer to her, his thumb caressing away the new tear streaking down her face. Several tears followed. They'd kill her sister. How could she let that happen?

"Hannah," he whispered

"I do," she shouted.

Nathaniel flinched. His gaze snapping to the pastor.

She scrunched her eyes closed as something dark, fierce grew in her. "I don't feel good," she cried. "Please just pronounce us man and wife."

"The rings...."

"Please."

"With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife."

An acidic bile rushed in her carrying the weight of her guilt. Her hand flew to her mouth as some seeped through her fingers, hitting the floor. She raced into the bathroom and crashed to her knees, rug burns sliding over her skin. Her dinner raced from her, covering the floor as she grasped for the trash can.

Sobs escaped her - tears racing down her face. It was done. She had sealed her fate. The door open and then shut. The bang making the pounding of her head sharper.

A light touch on her back made her flinch just as a towel ran across her face. She looked up into the soft blue eyes of the man who was now her husband. A line formed between his brows.

He finished cleaning her face and set the towel to the side. "Let's get you away from this."

His arm swooped under her legs bringing her into his embrace and away from her lost dinner. He walked from the bathroom and carried her to a chair. He lay her down, pushing a curl from her face.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just nerves." Her voice sounded so weak as if she had lost all strength.

He nodded and sat back on his heels glancing to the side. A lock of his dark hair swept over his forehead. He looked so lost, sad, as he furrowed his brows deeper. This was probably not what he expected on his wedding night. A sick bride. But maybe she could fix the situation. Hannah unfolded her legs and stood. "I want to go clean up."

He didn't respond as she walked into the bathroom. She shut the door and glanced at the mirror grimacing. What a sight she was. Her hair was disheveled with some sticking up on the top of her head. Specks of what she had lost covered her dress. Nathaniel had picked her up and held her close like this. She reached around her back, and slipped the dress off. Then used her hand to straighten her hair.

She wrapped a white bathrobe around herself. White. A pang attacked her heart. Why couldn't it be red? Red matched who she was.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and then let it slowly out. She had to stop thinking the worse of herself. She was not the same as someone who sold secrets for money. No, she'd sell something else for the life of another. Wasn't that at least somewhat excusable?

She opened her eyes, and looked in the mirror. The shoulder length curls framed her face in dark waves. Her bright green eyes looked slightly watery, and stood out against the paleness of her skin. This was all she had to give. But perhaps would it be enough to make him happy.

Hannah walked out and stopped in her tracks. The mess she had made was gone, except for an orange spot. A bundle of paper towels filled a trash can. A future King's son had cleaned up after her.

She looked up and found him at a table, holding his screwdriver keychain set, and messing with a mass of wires and gadgets. Her man. She'd love him and cherish him like no other had. Like he deserved. It would be her way of apologizing now before he learned who she really was. She walked to him - the scent of his lemony cologne surrounding her, drawing her. She bent and kissed his cheeks close to his mouth. His hands stilled as the screwdriver slipped from his fingers.

He turned to her a smile crossing his face. "Feeling better."

"You'll always make me feel better." She smashed her lips against his, letting the emotions only he could produce in her swirl around, losing herself in this moment. She'd worry about what may come tomorrow.

Chapter Ten

Nathaniel raised his hand waving at the crowd, the teeny boppers shouting out his name and waving flags. He wrapped an arm around Abigail's waist and guided her off the stage. Her form trembled next to his. If she didn't get used to the limelight, how would she make it through her father's presidency? Especially since the polls were showing he'd likely be taking that seat next term.

Nathaniel walked behind the blue curtain as several agents approached them, circling them, and guiding them to the waiting bus. He got a width of dark brown curls. Hannah raced by the group, clutching a handful of voter registration cards, and rushing to a table to help with the surge of hopeful new voters who waited.

A heat formed in him as images danced in his mind. Images of her lips seeking his, the feel of her skin next to his. What a night that had been. A night when they became one.

She disappeared behind the blue tent and a feeling of loss filled him. He should pull her from that chore. Had even been hinting at it. Especially, since they had only spent one other night together despite being married a week. But when he had asked, she briskly said no, not wanting to increase the rumors surrounding them. Rumors that she had become his bed warmer and was no more than a toy for him to play with. He couldn't wait to set that record straight.

Thankfully, there were only a few more weeks and then this would all be over. Once done, he planned to sweep her away to Paris, or Tahiti - some far off land where the political whims of his father couldn't touch them.

Nathaniel walked onto the bus and headed to the back while Abigail stopped to talk to Arnold. They were off to an airport to catch a flight to Pennsylvania. A smile slipped on his face when he spotted Mitchell. He owned so much of his happiness to that man. The man who had encouraged him to follow his heart.

Nathaniel's steps quicken as he walked to him, holding out his hand. Once he reached him, Nathaniel gripped his hand and looked him straight in the eyes. "Thank you."

"So things are going great?"

"Better than you can realize." He motioned for Mitchell to follow him to the back, to where he and Abigail would be separated from the rest of the interns, like they were some kind of lower class. How he wished he could move Hannah back here to join him, but he knew the rumors would erupt more.

Nathaniel plopped in a seat, letting the weariness seep all over him. Only four more weeks.

"So you're a happily married man, huh?"

A smile spread across Nathaniel's face. "Completely. I just wish I could see her more. But alas. This will be life for the next few weeks."

Mitchell sat, nodding his head. "And no problems from your father?"

"Not a peep."

"Good." Mitchel patted him on the shoulder. "And how is the science experiment going?"

Science experiment? Why did he keep calling it that? Didn't he realize how revolutionary his work would be? Nathaniel sat up, folding his hands in his lap. "We might have had a breakthrough."

Mitchell stilled, narrowing his eyes. "Really?"

"A professor of mine at Harvard who I have been working with thinks he's perfected the cube. It has even attracted a huge sponsor."

Mitchel bent his head to the side. "Who?"

"Gaskin Oil."

Mitchell flattened his hand on his knee. With his mouth half open, a whiteness seeped across his face.

Nathaniel stiffened, feeling a tension spread across his forehead. Why did he look afraid? Scared as if he had just seen a ghost. Perhaps, he was worried about his oil investments. Was that why he kept asking about the science experiment? Mitchell should jump in. Invest along with Gaskin oil. "You know..."

"When do you think it'll hit the market?" He interrupted.

"10 years or less. Gaskin says they can have a small infrastructure in place in...."

"10 years you say?"

"Operational in 15. Maybe we'll have enough time to save Antarctica."

Mitchell stood, straightening his tie. "And I always thought it'd be your father who'd change the world."

A chuckle escaped Nathaniel. "We'll see. I'm sure there are still hurdles to overcome."

Mitchell raised his brows. "I imagine there are a lot of people who do not want your little box to hit the shelves."

"One can't stop progress. You should...."

Mitchell turned briskly. "I need to talk to Arnold. See you later."

He imagined there would be those wanting to stop his work. But this had to happen. His box would power the world, without causing one drop of pollution. Nathaniel leaned back and closed his eyes. How quickly could this technology spread - especially since Nathaniel planned to forgo any compensation. He had enough money from his father's investments. He didn't need anymore. He could be like Salk. Instead of changing the world with a simple shot, he'd do it by harnessing the power of the sun and forcing it into one small box.

A shiver slipped over Hannah as she focused on Mathis, staring at her with his eyes covered by those dark glasses. She imagined he glared at her. She shut the door, blocking the image, which put fear into her. If that man ever had children he'd never have to raise a hand at them. No, that stare alone would make them quake in their little booties.

Hannah turned, looking at the room with a light glow from a tiffany lamp covering the oak furniture with intricate carved lines. Every part of her wanted to shut down, curl under some sheets and let sleep overcome her, but not tonight. No, she needed to take advantage of the rare opportunity she had been given. An opportunity to spend time with her husband. They were finally in the same hotel.

She tipped toed towards the bedroom. Did he know she was here? She imagined he was sound asleep - maybe even with his clothes still on. She'd just slip in next to him and lay her head on his chest, listening to the strong rhythmic beat of his heart. Maybe he'd stir in the early mornings, and they would have a chance to enjoy each other's love before the demands of the campaign separated them. She didn't know how long she had to cherish this life before everything came crashing around her, so she'd make sure she enjoyed every chance she got.

She stopped outside the door. When they had married she had expected an instant demand, but for the last two weeks they'd had been quiet. Saying nothing. Why? Maybe they really wanted nothing. Or had been distracted with something else. Whatever the case may be, she wouldn't worry about it.

Hannah tapped the door open, and stilled, a warmth filling her. Nathaniel sat hunched over a table with a notebook sprawled out in front of him. His hand viciously sprawled across the page.

She tiptoed to the table and stood behind him. He was so engrossed. Did he not know she was here? Glancing down, she looked at the calculations that were as foreign to her as Swahili. How deep was his mind?

A diagram sat in front of him. A diagram of a box she knew someday would change the world. She hated to disturb him from his concentration, but their moments together were so far and few almost like someone was trying to keep them apart.

Hannah laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, dropping his pencil. His head whipped around, and his boyish smile spread across his face making flutters fill every part of her.

He jumped to his feet, grasping her hips and pulling her close to him. Her hands flew to his shoulders as she slipped her arms around his neck.

"My temptation has come," he said.

"Temptation?" She chuckled.

"Yes." He looked over his shoulder as he pushed his lips into a thin line. "Professor Bradford, wanted me to finalize the formulas ASAP."

Oh. She was being a distraction. Hannah ran her hands through his hair. "I can wait."

He turned back to her laying his forehead on hers. "It feels as though we're not married."

"It's almost over."

He nodded and turned wrenching himself from her and pulling out his chair. "I'll try to finish this soon, so we can spend time together."

Hannah looked at the clock in the room. It was already 11 p.m. She'd be out as soon as she sat down, falling asleep in a chair. Hannah went and sat on the chair, curling her legs under her as a yawn escaped. Once again, his hand flew across the page - his eyes following. Did his brain work faster than his body? His mind seemed like an endless hole where knowledge would pour out with just the slightest tap. Hannah had learned more about science during their brief relationship than all her science classes combined. Her eyes drooped closed, and a weight pushed down on her as blackness nipped around the edges of her mind. Maybe soon she'd get another science lesson.

A heat trickled over Hannah, poking at her while sweat dripped down her face. She walked around the hall corner, pushing a curl out of her eyes. Why did this hall feel so warm? Almost as if hell waited on the other side. A voice filled the hall - its rich timber calling to her. A smile slipped on her face. She knew that voice. It always called to her. Had she missed his speech? She rushed around another corner just as an applause erupted. She had. Which meant tonight she would be apologizing with kisses.

Hannah stopped at the entrance of a banquet hall, watching Nathaniel wave to the crowd who sat at round tables covered in lace table cloths and bone china. He had grown into such a distinguished looking man with dark hair, containing slight streaks of grey. His shoulders had broadened, and a sharpness filled his eyes. A sharpness that had changed the world.

Hannah took a step and rammed into two sets of broad backs. She stumbled back, as an agent looked over his shoulder. "Ticketed event only," he spat at her.

"I'm his wife."

The man raised his wrist to his mouth and spoke. Hannah stepped back a couple steps. Did they not know who she was? Hadn't Nathaniel told them she was coming?

"Now, I will take questions."

Her gaze snapped up as Nathaniel stepped from behind the podium clasping his hands together - confidence oozing from him. He nodded towards the center.

A young man stood. "Dr. McChester, in your autobiography you talk of your early marriage...."

Early marriage? What did he mean by that? Nathaniel and she had a strong marriage. Had for.... Her thoughts vanished as she tried to think of how long they had been married. But no thoughts came to her. None. A dark foreboding slipped over her slowly seeping in. They hadn't been married long and yet they must have been. Grey streaked his hair. Footsteps approached. She glanced to her side, tensing, as two men in black suits approached her.

What did they want? How come no one knew who she was? She had to get to Nathaniel. He'd pull her into a tight embrace, protecting her. Hannah glanced at the agents before her. Glares probably rested in those eyes hidden by sunglasses. Could she make it past them? Shove her way through?

"Did her betrayal really...?"

Hannah's hands flew to her mouth. She sprang up, sheets slipping from her body. The air fled from her as she gasped for it, but couldn't catch it. Her lungs burned. Two strong arms flew around her, crashing her to a solid body. The scent of spice soap gagged her.

She couldn't breathe. She just couldn't. She clenched at her throat. And pushed. A wheezing sound eked out. What was wrong? She clawed at her skin. Burning streaks followed her fingers. Her hands were gripped and slammed against the bed.

Something cold splashed against her face. She gasped and then stilled as droplets of water cascaded down her face.

"Hannah."

Hannah's eyes flew open. She blinked a couple times as a much younger Nathaniel came into focus. Where was she? Her gaze flew around the room, but a grey light covered everything.

"Was it a bad dream?"

Her gaze turned back to him, as her chest quickly rose and fell in short gasps.

Soft lips pressed against her forehead. Nathaniel. He was still hers. But for how much longer? She nodded and pushed up, slipping from the bed.

A cold shiver slipped over her as she reached to her arms, and caressed them. Would someday she be only remembered as the girl who betrayed him? Probably so. A long dark future loomed before her - a future void of him. Tears sprang to her eyes while something deep inside stabbed at her heart. There had to be a way she could extract herself from this. But she didn't see it. Didn't see how it could possibly be done.

Nathaniel's arms slipped around her waist, and he pulled her against his chest. His body was not rock solid like one who worked out, but there was something comforting about the feel of his skin, and the embrace of his arms. Some of the darkness seeped from her, but not all.

His hot breath brushed her ears as he whispered, "what can I do to help?"

What could be done? A thought trickled across her mind. Perhaps? She slowly turned, focusing on his light blue eyes. What could be done? What if...? What if her sister came here? Then she would be safe and Hannah could tell Mathis of the threats.

She opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut. Her gaze darted around the room. What if they were listening? They would know. They would figure out her plan. Would her sister be shot before she could even speak one syllable?

A tear slipped from one eye and she leaned her head against his chest. There was nothing he could do. All she could do was wait.

Chapter Eleven

Hannah set the sandwich on the in table and curled the blanket around her waist. Where had her appetite gone? She had only eaten a fourth and not touched the chips or fruit on the plate. She reached and grabbed her tea and took a sip, letting the sweetness slip down her throat. But it only tasted sour to her. Sitting the glass down, she pulled the blanket closer to her chest. Would Nathaniel be back soon? Part of her longed to see him, but part of her dreaded it. Ever since that dream a dark foreboding had covered her, invading her every thought. Every time her phone rung, or she received a text cold shivers would slip over her. And Nathaniel noticed. He constantly asked her what was wrong and sent her gifts meant to cheer her up. Hannah told him she was just tired. And she was. But she had a feeling, he knew something else caused her stress.

She stood, and placed her hand on her back, feeling the ache. She caught sight of the Bible Nathaniel had laid on the desk in the room. Nathaniel's Bible. He told her he found comfort in the ancient words and it helped to guide him when he faced difficult situations. If only she could find help with such myths.

She walked to it, and pulled out the chair. Sitting down, she pulled the Bible closer to her and flipped through the pages. Where was the peace? The peace that she heard could surpass all understanding. If she had that peace, what would she do?

She turned a page and stopped, her gaze catching site of a verse Nathaniel had highlighted.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Something poked at her heart. Something that felt like a tug, a calling. Was He with her? She bit on her finger. She imagined not. Just those who clung to His word. If He was even real. She had never had much time for God, even when her sister began to cling to him, promising that believing in God would keep her safe, protected. But it hadn't.

Hannah shook her head and continued reading. She flipped through the Bible and found a few more verses and then stopped reading:

"For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

What did that mean? She chewed on her bottom lip. Perhaps....

Her phone beeped, buzzing against her leg. She stilled, focusing out in the distance, but seeing nothing. The dark foreboding grew thicker. A fear sliced through her encompassing her. Her hand slowing inched to her pants, slipping in her pockets. She gripped her phone and slid it out. Swallowing hard, she swiped her fingers against it, and tensed as a message populated. Balcony now.

She jumped to her feet, her gaze darting around. Were they watching? Did they see her? With slow steps she walked to the glass door. Her sweaty hands gripped the handle, and she slid it back. The cold air slammed into her as her feet pressed against the chilled tile of the balcony.

Her gaze flew around the dark night, catching sight of the street lights below. She could see no one, but she knew. Knew they could see her. What did they want? Was she about to find out?

Her phone buzzed in her hand, the slight melody of her ringtone breaking the silence. She raised the phone to her ear and pressed the green button.

"Yes," her voice cracked.

"Well hello, Hannah," a deep voice said. She tumbled back, crashing against the glass.

"What do you want?" she screamed.

"Now, Hannah, you don't want to make anyone suspicious. That wouldn't be good for your sister."

Her hand flew to her mouth as tears began to pour down her face. Her body rattled so hard, she felt as though it might crack. How she wished it would. Then she wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. Perhaps, then they'd leave her sister alone. "Wha..?"

"Now that's a good girl. I know you are one."

She swallowed, the rattling intensifying.

"Now Hannah, listen. You have a day off tomorrow, right?"

She nodded wondering, if they could see her.

A chuckle void of joy floated to her. "Tomorrow go to room 365. Be there at 1 p.m.. Don't worry, Nathaniel boy won't be around."

"But....."

The line went dead in her ear. She lowered her arm, as her phone slipped from her hand, falling to the floor. Her knees buckled under her and she crashed. Pain shot up her back. Her head fell back and she stared in front focusing on the yellow lights of the building across from her. Tomorrow, she had a feeling, she would find out exactly what they wanted. Why they had been moving her around like a chest piece. A tear slipped down her cheek, slipping over her lips. She closed her eyes. Please don't let them ask me to hurt him. Please. She prayed to whom she didn't know, but she knew. She knew with every part of her being. She had no hope, so she was reaching for straws. Hoping this God would prove himself to her by swooping in like a Superhero and saving her from the cliff. If he would she would become his most ardent follower. But she imagined he wouldn't. Because there was nothing out there. Nothing but the empty dark space.

"What are you doing?"

Hannah flinched.

She turned, focusing on Nathaniel who leaned out the doorway gripping the sides of the glass door.

Nathaniel looked at the night sky, seeing nothing but the bright yellow lights from the building across from the balcony. Hannah looked as if she saw a ghost but he could find nothing that might have frightened her. Nathaniel took a step outside and knelt by her, taking her hand. It was cold, clammy. Wet stains covered her cheeks. What was going on?

Nathaniel let go of her hand, and stood walking to the ornate designed rail of the balcony, clenching it. He knew he shouldn't be out here. Mathis had warned him about snipers but still he went. He squeezed the rail and looked around. What had frightened her? He couldn't figure it out. All he saw was the night sky and the shadowy outline of another building. She couldn't have seen anyone threatening, because it was too far away. Did something happen to her sister?

Nathaniel spun back to her. "Is your sister okay?"

She didn't answer. He walked to her, and leaned over her shivering body, running a finger down her face. It seemed as though she was in shock. Nathaniel shook his head and swooped her into his arms. Her hands clenched his shirt as she laid her head against his shoulder. He walked to the bed and lay her down. Her arms swooped around his neck, pulling him down almost as if she was afraid to have even a small amount of space between them.

"Hannah," he whispered.

"I love you, Nathaniel. Please always remember that."

Nathaniel focused on her wide green eyes, watching the swell of emotions grow in them. Why did she say that? Of course he knew she loved him. But she said it as if he might doubt that in the future. As if something might happen. But what could happen?

Something's not right Mathis's words slipped across his mind. Something wasn't right. He kicked off his shoes and lay down next to her, pulling her into his arms. She buried her face into his chest, and soon moistness covered his shirt. Tears.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Just remember, please."

"Why?"

A knock sounded at the door. Hannah clenched him tighter. Who could that be? Someone pounded again. Louder. More forceful.

"Don't answer it," she pleaded.

"Hannah, it's probably an agent."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I really did love you."

What? What was that about? Thoughts he didn't want to consider began trickling across his mind. She spoke as though she was guilty. But what could she be guilty of? She was the most sincere person he had ever meant.

He peeled her fingers from his shirt and slipped from the bed. A weight descended down on him as he walked to the door and pulled it open, peering at Mathis.

"We need to talk," his friend said. A glare filled his eyes.

Nathaniel walked out the door, shutting it. Mathis motioned with his head for him to follow. What was going on? Nathaniel followed him to another room, as Mathis opened the door, ushering him in.

Tension filled all his limbs. Mathis's reaction seemed to be mingled with Hannah's plea. Dear Lord let them not be connected.

His friend led him to where another agent sat at a desk. He gazed at a green line cutting across a black laptop screen.

"What is this?" he asked.

"That is what we don't understand," the other agent said.

Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder as a chair was placed behind him and a large hand pushed him down. He was not going to like this. "What do you mean?"

"Someone called Hannah. Someone using a secure line, we are working on cracking."

Her pleas floated to him, crashing around in his mind. He jumped to his feet, pressing down on his head. No. It just couldn't be. Hannah was pure, loving. She had been giving him all of her during their brief marriage. She loved him. Begged him to know it.

"We need...."

"She's innocent....." He shouted.

Mathis crossed his arms over his chest and stared stoically at him.

Nathaniel shook his head and turned as a pain sliced through out him. "She's innocent..." he whispered.

But her own words caused doubt to grow in his mind. She knew something. Something was coming. Something that would rip her from him.

"We need to get to the bottom of this. We have contacted higher up."

He spun around. "Who gave you permission. Huh?"

The other agent stood. "Mr."

He jabbed a finger at them. "You shouldn't be bugging her phone."

"We didn't. We are just monitoring the frequency," Mathis said.

A heat flared over him. "She's innocent," he grounded out. He focused on his friend. Mathis's emotions were unreadable as always. This time he had gone too far.

The other agent spoke. "Sir, what if...?"

"Why would she?"

"We need to get to the bottom of this," Mathis said.

Nathaniel clamped his eyes closed as a swell of emotions washed over him. Hurt. Anger, and confusion wrapped in one massive wave, that threaten to topple him. He couldn't handle this. This was too much. He rushed for the door. He would prove her innocence. Mathis jumped in front of him, planting his hands on his shoulders.

"Get out of my way." Nathaniel grounded out.

"You can't go back there."

"I will do as I please."

"We have no....."

"I'm not a child."

He stepped around Mathis and rushed out the door, the stale air hitting him in the face. He stopped, focusing on the agent standing at his door. He ran his hands through his hair stopping at the edge. Would she really betray him after all that they had shared? But why? Why would she? He could give her everything she wanted. Every richness that she could dream of.

He looked at the door. He couldn't face her now. There was just too much confusion wrapping around him, strangling him. He needed air. He looked up at the ceiling. Darn the security. He'd go find some peace.

Nathaniel pushed through the door, the bellhop held open. A man whose wallet was now quite full. The crisp October air hit him in the face as a slight wind ruffled his hair, chilling him. He walked to the edge of the roof stepping over a few broken beer bottles, and chicken wing bones. How often had he run to roofs when he wanted to escape? First as a young child climbing to the top of his family's ranch house and then via secret stairways in the mansion his father had bought. Was that why he had brought Hannah to one? Had he wanted to escape with her to where the pressure of being the Prince of Politics couldn't capture him? How he wished he could escape with her now. Take her to some far away land where they could rest in each other's love, not worrying about political campaigns or secret phone calls.

He stopped at the edge and looked at the lights of the opposite hotel. It just didn't make sense. How could someone who had kissed him with such passion, shared such moments with him be planning something against him as Mathis believed? And why? Did she wish to blackmail him, plant something in his room? Was this a means to take down his father? If so why would they work like this? Couldn't they just have paid a maid to leave some drugs in his room or something? None of this made sense. He just couldn't believe that his Hannah was guilty. But why the tears? The pleading? And why the secret phone call?

Nathaniel gripped the rail, as a swirl of emotions filled him, making a stabbing pain inflict his heart. He took a deep breath and slowly released it, but still the ache attacked him.

If he asked her about it, would she tell him? Or would she play dumb? How could he find out or did he just have to wait until everything unfolded? But the real question he wondered was would there be anything left of them when it all did? Or would he lose his Hannah?

Nathaniel clamped his eyes shut as tears sprang to his eyes. Would he lose her? The girl whose curls tickled him in the morning as he awoke. The one who liked to run her hands through his hair. The one who would lean her head on his shoulder and tell him that he'd change the world someday for the better.

A tear slipped down his face, keeping time with the pain slicing through him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Didn't know if he could survive it. But something told him he would. A dark foreboding that made the future bleak, empty. He wiped the tear away and turned back to the door.

There was no way he could go back to that room tonight. He'd find somewhere else to stay. And tomorrow he'd disappear. Though he had planned to spend time with her, he just couldn't look at the guilt in her eyes again.

Chapter Twelve

He never came back. Hannah raised the teacup to her mouth letting the heat coat her face, but the thought of taking a sip of the sweet honey liquid, made her stomach sour. She lowered the cup while a tear slid down her cheek, dropping onto her lap. How could someone be knit so tight to her in such a brief amount of time? The knot was so strong, she imagined there was no way to undo it.

She sniffled, and looked down at the tea cup while tears gathered in her eyes again. Had he learned the extent of her betrayal yet? A betrayal that she didn't fully understand, but knew must reach to a level where forgiveness couldn't overcome. Every second she expected Mathis to come crashing through that door, arresting her and hauling her off.

Hannah set the cup down on a table and wrapped the blanket around her but still the coldness clung to her almost as if it had seeped into her bones. She glanced at the clock noticing it was 10 a.m. . In a few hours she was supposed to leave and make her way to the meeting to find out what they wanted. Then she'd learn how cruel her betrayal would be to the man she had promised to love above all others.

Hannah pushed from the chair, and her gaze caught on the Bible laying opened on a table standing in front of the stone fireplace. She could have sworn that Nathaniel had put that away. She walked over to the Bible, and flipped through it, the scent of ink floating to her. Were there any answers in here? Anything that could help her? The word trust floated across her mind, intermingling with all the fear that resided in her. "Show me something," she whispered.

A red mark caught her eye. She bent her head to the side. Nathaniel had written the word trust. She read, "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go."

Was there any truth behind this passage? There would be if there was a God who wrote this book. Words burned behind her lips. Words that wanted her to draw near to this God. To finally depend on Him. Should she? She looked towards the door, wishing Nathaniel would come through it, as he rushed to hold her, pulling her into his arms and promising that he'd be the one to guide her. But he wasn't going to. She imagined she'd never feel his arms around her again.

She turned back to the pages. She had no one else to trust so why not this God. Hannah closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the swirling emotions attacking her. Thoughts filled her. Thoughts calling her a traitor, liar, reminding her she had failed all she loved. How could she trust God if she couldn't even clear her mind? But none the less she'd tried. Try as best she could. Please. Just tell me what to do so that Nathaniel and my sister don't get hurt.

A sweet peace caressed her face as though a wind blew in the room. Was that the peace of God her sister so loved? The one she swore by. Hannah opened her eyes, and focused on the word trust now blurred by the tears that had fallen on it. Hopefully, this sweet peace would stick with her and tell her what to do.

Nathaniel lay in the bed, focusing on the ceiling, tracing over the ornate flower carvings. Hannah was just two doors down, being closely monitored by Mathis and his men. Her every move was being observed, her privacy being completed violated. The only promise he had forced on Mathis was not to watch her in the bedroom, unless he was there. He couldn't have Hannah that far invaded. The thought of allowing another man, to listen to her every word, fear, or breath she drew made bile fill him. Shouldn't he be protecting her, defending her? But how could he defend someone whose eyes so thoroughly convinced him of her guilt?

He glanced at the clock. Well past 12 p.m. So much of the day had passed. A day that was supposed to be spent immersed in her arms, watching movies, and letting the political world no longer keep them apart. But instead all he had done was lie in bed, wishing he had never glanced her way.

A buzz sounded against his leg. His phone. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It better not be his father. He'd slam the phone against the wall if it was. Mitchell's number flashed across the screen. He wanted to talk to no one in the sordid world of politics. He lowered his hand to place the phone on the nightstand, but stopped. Mitchell had been there in the past, perhaps he could help now. He raised the phone back up and swiped his finger against the screen. "Hey."

"Hey Nathaniel, how are you?" His voice sounded so somber.

"Have you talked to Mathis?"

"I have, but your father hasn't."

So perhaps his father didn't know how much of a mess his foolish son had made.

"I asked Mathis and the other agents to keep this quiet until there is more evidence."

Why would he do that? It seemed as though it was a pretty slammed dunk case. "Wouldn't it...?"

"Perhaps there is a reasonable excuse. This is your wife Nathaniel. A girl who agreed to marry you in secret, while you were supposedly engaged to someone else. You owe her a chance to plead her case."

"I don't know."

"Look. Get out, clear your head. Okay. I've sent a limo over. Go to a quaint little bar I've found for you, get a beer and relax.

Nathaniel glanced to the side at the alarm clock. 20 minutes to one. Maybe it would be good to get out. To put things in perspective.

"Nathaniel?"

"I...."

"Mathis is keeping an eye on things."

"Okay," Nathan said pushing himself to stand. Perhaps clearing his mind would be a good idea. But then he needed to have a long talk with Hannah and get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

The wires crossed here. Nathaniel furrowed his brows, while staring at the open pager in his hands. A pager that allowed him to know the private secluded table he had requested was ready. He used his small screwdriver and pushed the wire to the side, looking at the connection. A simple connection. One he had seen a million times. And one that would burn out quickly. Did the restaurant pay good money for this cheap piece of plastic?

Nathaniel tossed it to the side, and propped his feet up on a chair opposite of him, leaning back. Closing his eyes, Hannah's bright smile filled his mind as the scent of her body spray surrounded him. She leaned over him as a few curls fell across his face ticking his nose. Her hair always made her green eyes more prominent. What a beauty. What strength she had. Nathaniel opened his eyes. What was the point of avoiding her? All he did was see her everywhere he went. And all his thoughts were consumed by her. Consumed by someone probably planning his assassination. His chair legs crashed to the floor as he straightened. She couldn't be doing that. She just didn't seem like the type. But one never knew. A well-trained actress could have been sharing his bed.

Nathaniel looked at the red oak table before him. A plate of barbecue wings and nachos sat there completely untouched. A soda unopened. The spicy smell of garlic and chili filled the place but instead of awaking his empty stomach the food made him want to gag.

It had been well over an hour and still a mass of confusion reign in his mind. What was he going....?

The phone on the table buzzed. He stared at the wall. Was it her? Was she planning on begging for his forgiveness? Something to lure him back into her trap. A heaviness seemed to surround him, engulfing him. He wanted to ignore it. Planned to ignore it, but a curiosity filled him. A curiosity to hear what she had to say. He reached to the phone and slowly slid his finger across the screen without looking at it. He raised the phone to his ear. "Yes."

"Have you gotten your mind cleared?"

Nathaniel clamped his eyes closed. It wasn't her. "Hey Mitchell."

"How are you Nathaniel?"

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "I'm fine. Just sitting here sipping a glass of water ignoring my wings."

Mitchell chuckled. "You sound miserable."

"Yeah."

"Go talk to her."

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"She's your wife. Go talk to her. Besides, we were able to clear the call. We think it was just some kind of prank, by a hacker."

Nathaniel sat up straighter - energy pouring through him. "Really?"

"Yes, so go talk to her. You won't regret it."

Nathaniel slid his finger across the phone ending the call without saying goodbye. Could it all have been a prank? But why did she seem so unsettle? Nathaniel stood to his feet grabbing his coat. Well, he'd have to find out.

Chapter Thirteen

Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist, as her fingers bumped up against her sides. A dark shadow seemed to surround her, filling every part of her. She clenched the verse she had ripped from the Bible while sweat slipped from her palms, meshing with the paper. Hannah looked around the hotel hallway, wondering where Mathis hid. She knew he was hot on her tail. Would he listen if she explained why she took the steps she did? Would it even matter? Probably not.

She stopped outside the door with 365 in gold numbers and shut her eyes. Please. A click sounded. Something gripped her arm, yanking her in, slamming her against a wall. Her breath flew from her, as her eyes popped open.

A darkness surrounded her but the heavy breathing revealed another's presence.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the room. She tried to stumble back but only slammed against the wall again. There was nowhere to escape.

"Your sister is at Pullen park today."

Was she? The park near their home.

The heavy steps grew closer. "She's working with some children. Some special children."

"Leave...."

"She'll leave from the park to go to the movies with those children."

"Yes," she whispered.

"We'll be there too, waiting. Ready."

"Why?" she cried as fear rattled through her.

The voice stopped in front of her, mere inches. So close his hot breath hit her face. "I'd hate to see those plush seats ruin."

Hannah clamped her eyes closed as pain engulfed her. If she could just hide, block him out. She couldn't let those children die. Just couldn't. They were mere babes. Please. She squeezed her hands tight, feeling the smoothness of the paper.

The word trust filtered through her mind. Trust. How could she trust what she couldn't see?

"Give him this before dinner."

Her eyes flew open. Give him?

The man gripped her hand, yanking it up. He slammed something smooth in her hand. She rolled it around - feeling the small round bottle.

"What is this?" she asked as a tear slid over her mouth.

A harsh chuckle sounded. "You'll see."

The heavy steps sounded again becoming more distant. She held her breath, trying to hear the click of a door. But none came. Was he gone? It felt as though his presence was. But where could he have gone? Surely she was in a room. Maybe he went out another door.

Hannah slid off the wall, with the bottle in one hand and the Bible verse in the other. Slipping the bottle to the other hand, she walked, hands out, feeling. Was he still there? Her hand hit a solid wall. It was smooth. She ran her hand over it, until she felt something metal, cold. The door knob. Her hand slid to the side. A different type of wood. She trailed her hand up until she found the all too familiar shape of a switch.

With her pulse racing through her, she flipped the switch and spun around. Where was he? But he was gone. All she saw were rolls of cleaning supplies, brooms, and one lonely vacuum cleaner. She was in a janitor's closet that had no other door. Who was she dealing with? She stumbled back hitting the door. She was dealing with a person who could easily wipe out her sister.

Hannah swallowed hard and raised the bottle - her shaky hand making the liquid swish from side to side. Something harsh sliced through her. A harsh reality that crashed around her. They were asking her to choose. The man she loved or her sister. And to make sure she chose rightly, they threw in a couple of innocent children.

Hannah lowered her hand, shaking her head. There was no way she could poison him. But those children. And her sister. They'd shoot them cold as they got lost in the fantasy of the movie.

She gripped the bottle, spinning around. Every part of her wanted to throw it but fear made her clench it tight. What was she going to do?

She took several deep breaths and let them out, but the fear only grew. She was going to have to kill him. Kill the only man she ever loved. Perhaps Mathis would somehow save him in time. Or a doctor. Anyone would do.

She turned facing the red painted door. A door that was blood red. Once she walked through that door, she'd be signing her death warrant. But not one part of her cared. She'd rather die than stick with their plan. She put the bottle in her coat pocket and reached a shaky hand to the door knob, its coldness doing nothing to chill the heat in her. She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, taking a tentative step out before looking both ways. Where was Mathis? She knew he watched her. Had to be. Perhaps he'd stop her in time and she'd not have to fulfill their plans.

But if he did, would they still kill her sister? She inched along the hall, looking at the ornate wall paper complete with silver plated scones but not really seeing them. She tiptoed up the stairs, coming to their room. The normal two guards stood outside the door, hands crossed in front of their waists. Dark glasses shielded the sharpness she knew rested in their eyes. Would they let her in? If they'd just not let her in. She walked to the door, and stopped in front of them. They didn't even look at her. But they never did. She was considered an oddity to be ignored. Accepted but invisible.

She took a step towards the door, and the men stepped to the side. Her gaze swung to one. Surely, they'd stop her. Arrest her. Why weren't they? She shook her head. This was just insane. She took a deep breath and gripped the door handle, pushing the door open. She jumped in, half expecting to see Mathis with his gun raised towards her face. But the room was empty. Her shoulders deflated. She walked to a couch and plopped down. A silence filled the room. An emptiness. Perhaps he wouldn't come back. How she wished, he wouldn't. The door creaked making her jump. She gripped the sides of the chair. The awkward clumpy steps could only mean one thing. Nathaniel had come as if she conjured him up with her thoughts.

Nathaniel dug his hands in his pockets while two agents trailed behind him - keeping a watchful eye like always. As he came up to the hotel room, he spotted Mathis standing in the hallway - his arms crossed over his chest, a harsh glare in his eyes. Something had angered him. Had something new developed? A sense of dread filled him, making his feet feel heavy. Mathis left his post and walked stealthy to him. Stopping, he bent low. "We need to show you something."

"Something?"

Mathis turned and headed towards a room next to Nathaniel's.

Nathaniel looked at the door where Hannah hopefully waited. Was she lying in the bed, waiting for him? Wishing he would hold her, comfort her? Was she wondering why he hadn't come back?

"Nathaniel, please trust me," Mathis ground out, snapping Nathaniel from his thoughts.

He turned, nodding. So many thoughts and emotions swirled around him but fear seemed to be the one winning a stronghold over his heart. He'd find out what Mathis wanted and then head to her. Perhaps, Mathis would clear up the confusion, and explain the discrepancies. Maybe he would give him the peace of mind he so desperately wanted.

Nathaniel followed Mathis to the room - the room where men monitored his wife. He walked into the room, and caught sight of the large flat screen TV. One image filled it. Hannah "What are you doing?" he shouted.

"This has become a criminal investigation," Mathis said.

A heat pushed through him. "I said no."

"Don't worry, we made sure she was properly dressed." Mathis' monotone voice unnerved him. Couldn't he at least show some care? This was his best friend's' wife.

Nathaniel shook his head as he watched Hannah roll something in her hands. Tears fell from her cheeks as she leaned her forehead against one of her arms. What was she holding? It looked like a small bottle. A bottle of poison. He swallowed hard as once again a dark foreboding seeped into him. Did she hold his death in the palm of her hands?

"Hannah was spotted coming out of a closet. We believe she received that there."

"What is she planning?" he asked, his voice full of strain.

"We don't know. But something is going on."

Nathaniel turned focusing on Mathis. Steel filled his friend's eyes. "I'll ask."

"No."

Nathaniel rushed to the door. "She's my responsibility."

Mathis gripped his arm. Stopping him. Nathaniel turned seeing the slight waver in his eyes. An understanding filled Nathaniel. He was all Mathis had. His only family. Nathaniel placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be careful."

He turned and rushed to the door before anyone could stop him.

The door slowly slid open, and Nathaniel walked sending a searing pain through her. His watery blue eyes focused on her, telling her all she needed to know. He knew. Knew what she was about to do. A yearning piled through her - a yearning to protect and comfort him. There was no way, she could bring about his death. But what about her sister? And those children?

Hannah looked down at her hand where the Bible verse was wrapped around the bottle. Tears slipped down her face and fell onto them. What was she going to do? This was a choice too hard to make. Nathaniel's footsteps sounded in the room. Water ran and then shut off. The footsteps once again sounded and approached her. A thud made her flinch. She looked at the glass of water sitting on the side table.

Why did he have to put a weapon so close to her? Almost as if he asked her to poison him. She looked down at the bottle - feeling the weight of it in her hands. The pressure built in her wanting to burst out. She swallowed but there was no moisture to cover her dry throat.

The seat next to her creaked, and Nathaniel's arm slipped around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" he said with an edge in his voice.

Her hands flew to her face and she pressed the bottle into her forehead as a sob escaped. Dear Lord, please just kill me. Please.

"Hannah," he whispered his voice softer.

She lowered her hands and looked at him being captured by the roaring emotions in his eyes. Anger, hurt, pain, confusion.

Her fingers slid to the bottle and maneuvered the lid. Twisting, turning, Motions that would bring death. But whose death it would be? Who would she choose?

Nathaniel's brows furrowed as he shook his head. His mouth slightly parted. A mouth that she had kissed so many nights. A mouth that had brought so much pleasure and words of comfort to her. He was such a good man. Too good to be taken from the world.

"Why? Please help me understand why?" he asked.

She scrunched her eyes as the lid popped off. She leaned towards him, her lips mere inches from his. She wanted to kiss him. To bask in such a pleasure. But she couldn't be a Judas. She couldn't betray him with a kiss.

"Just tell me," he pleaded. A tear slid down his cheek. A tear that made a pain slam through her. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't. Hannah bent closer leaning her forehead against his. His arms circled around her. Loving Her. Protecting her. Did he realize she held his death in her hands? Death. Her hand stilled. She looked into his eyes, letting herself get lost in them. Death was the answer. All she could do was hope. "My sister. They're going to kill her."

She jumped from the seat. Rushing towards the bathroom raising the bottle to her lips.

"What?" he shouted

Nathaniel gripped her arm. She wiggled, yanking on her arm. She had to get free. Had to. Nathaniel swung her back towards him. His arms crashing around her.

"What do you mean?"

"Nathaniel, let me go," she cried

"What do you mean?" he shouted again

"My sister. They're going to kill her. Please tell Mathis."

"Kill her?" Confusion filled his eyes.

"They're going to kill if I...." She clamped her mouth closed. She couldn't say it. Couldn't even whisper it? But something grew in Nathaniel's eyes. An understanding.

"Please forgive me, Nathaniel. I love you. I don't want to hurt you."

"I love you, too." He crashed her to him, his lips slamming against hers. She kissed him back, soaking it in. Letting the emotions caress, entrance her. He pushed her back, jerking her hand up. He yanked the bottle from her fingers.

Her fingers grasped for it, as he spun around, raising the bottle to his lips.

"No," she screamed rushing to him. She wrapped her arms around him grasping for the bottle. But she was too small. She couldn't get to it. He lowered his arm, letting the bottle slip from his fingers. He turned, looking at her, as a small brown drop dribbled down his chin.

"Why? Nathaniel. Why?" She fell against his chest, crying.

His arms slowly wrapped around her. "I promised you, I'd protect her."

His knees buckled, as he dropped. The door of the room burst open, while Nathaniel fell into her arms, crashing her to the floor.

Her hot tears streamed down her face, meshing with his. "Nathaniel," she cried, screaming at him. His dark blue eyes took on a faraway look, his skin losing color. What had they given him? She pounded on the floor, as darkness nipped at her mind, pain slicing through her,

"I love you, Hannah," he whispered as his eyes closed and his chest slowed. She stilled. Was he?"

Too arms yanked her back, wrapping around, pulling her away. She screamed, "save him."

A man in black yanked up his shirt, stabbing a needle in Nathaniel stomach. He then poured something down Nathaniel's throat. Something black. Nathaniel's body wretched, shaking. Was he dying? Was he leaving her?

Someone swirled her around, throwing her on the floor. Her arms were yanked behind her. Cold metal was slapped around her wrists while Nathaniel's body convulsed - thick fluid flew from his mouth. Please Lord, please let them save him. Let the poison leave him.

Someone yanked her to her feet and pushed her to the door making her stumbling. Mathis' eyes were locked on Nathaniel - tears pouring down his face. His gaze snapped up. Steelness filled his eyes. A steelness that told her she would pay. But what did she care? She rather die than live one day knowing she'd caused Nathaniel's death. She was propelled out the door as a medic rushed in. She stumbled. They were arresting her. Taking her away. But she had to get back to him. Had to be with him. She jerked.

"Nathaniel," she cried, but a massive body caught her. She looked up, focusing on the sharp hate filled glare of Mathis.

"You'll pay," he shouted, spit hitting her cheeks.

Mathis's glare pierced through her while the man continued to carry her away. An understanding seeped into her. An understanding that told her, her deepest fear was true. Nathaniel had made the choice she couldn't make.

Chapter Fourteen

Hannah traced a wet stain down the hard cot she laid on void of any blankets or pillow. A stain that must have come from her many tears. She laid her hand flat, wishing she could find some sleep, and escape the harsh reality she lived in. But she imagined she never would. Hannah rolled over looking at the ceiling. How long had she lay here? It felt like hours. Hours of no answers. She just couldn't fathom that Nathaniel had succumbed to the poison since the agents had responded so quickly, and she had seen his body convulse and stomach retch. But there seemed to be something final, definite about Mathis's cold glare - a glare that told her she had taken what he valued most. His best friend.

She rolled over and buried her face in her hands, tears retching through her body again. Why had he done it? Why would he choose to end his life for a girl he had never meant? One he had only heard stories of. Was it his love for her? A love that made him be so foolish.

Hannah slammed a fist on the cot. She should have never applied for that job. Walked onto the campus of Yale university. She should have said no when that fool started flashing his boyishly handsome smile at her. So many regrets filled her, but what was the use of regrets? It was not like a regret could fix the past. No, the regrets only stabbed deeper into her heart, reminding her of all the steps she could have taken to change the outcome. An outcome that cost the most precious young man his life.

The door of the concrete cell creaked open. Hannah flinched and quickly rolled over staring at the heated glare of Mathis. A cold shiver sliced through her, making her limbs shake. She wished there was a blanket, something that would hide her from the assassin before her.

He walked into the room, the slight thuds of his steps making the rattling in her intensify.

He bent and she screamed, crashing back against the wall. Her head slammed hard. The world around her darkened.

"Get up." He grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. Pain shot up her. He pushed her to the open door, shoving her, giving her barely little time to think. Why had he come for her? Where was he taking her?

He pushed her into the hallway, dragging her down the hall. She looked at the long white walls. This wasn't a typical jail. In fact, she had no idea where she was. All she remembered was being handcuffed, a bag thrown over her head and a long car ride. Somewhere during the ride, exhaustion must have overtaken her, and she had woken up in the jail cell.

Mathis dragged her to a room, and opened the door, shoving her in. She looked around noticing the glass mirror, with probably a million agents behind it. There was also one lone table and two chairs. Mathis pulled out one and shoved her down. They were going to question her. Find out what she knew.

She looked down at the table as her matted hair fell over her face. Maybe she'd get a chance to find out if he lived.

The door opened with a small creak and a tall slender man with high cheekbones walked in. His brown eyes contrasted with his grey hair. Dominance screamed from him. He sat across from her. She looked down, fumbling with her fingers.

"How are you, Hannah?" he asked, his soothing voice, doing nothing to calm her.

Her fingers shook hard on the table. She grasped them trying to hold them still.

"Didn't sleep well, did you?"

She shook her head.

"I see. You are in a rough patch, aren't you?"

Hannah sniffled. Was he trying to build some kind of friendship with her? To break down her defenses? She'd give him all she had. All she knew. What was the use? She'd never walk a free woman again.

"Maybe we...."

"Is he alive?" Her voice sounded like a squeak.

"Are you asking about Nathaniel?"

She nodded.

"Why do you care to know?"

Hannah gazed at the white table. Because every part of her loved him. And he had sacrificed himself for her sister. Images of her dream filtered through her mind. The scorn, the hate. Even if he did live would he ever forgive her? But he had told her he loved her. A small hope ignited in her. But a dark dread crushed it. He couldn't love her if he was dead. "Please tell me."

The man tapped a black pen on a table. "You cared for him, didn't you?"

"I love him."

"Then why'd you do it, Hannah?" He banged his fist on the table.

She jumped back. Her head snapping up. His harsh eyes glared at her, piercing her. Because she had no idea what to do. No clue. But what defense was that?

"Are you going to answer?" he demanded.

She closed her eyes. Answers. Maybe answers would help. She licked her dry lips, and focused on the man. "They threatened my sister."

His cold black eyes, just focused on her - waiting for her to continue.

She pushed a curl out of her face. "They were going to kill her unless I listened. I didn't know what to do. They said if I told anyone they'd shoot her. I thought maybe they just wanted secrets."

"And when did you find out their plan?"

She lowered her gaze fumbling with her fingers again. "The day, he drank the poison."

"I see. And who wanted you to kill Nathaniel?"

She had no idea. Never did. And they had never given her any clues. It could have been anyone. "I don't know."

The man slammed his pen down. "You don't."

She flinched - her hands immediately locking on the bottom of the chair - every part of her body stiff, still. Silent.

"Well."

"I was just a pawn."

The man's fist unfolded and he lay his hand down. "Who spoke to you?"

"Several different people. They were never the same. I only saw one of them once."

"The man Mathis saw you with."

She nodded.

"I see, so no recognizable accents, clothing, nothing."

She shook her head.

The man leaned forward. "Hannah, I need you to think real hard. Was there anything that might have seen odd to you? Anything that might lead to who these people are?"

Hannah closed her eyes tight - clearing her mind. What could she have missed? Seen and not realized? She tried to replay each encounter in her mind, but her thoughts were so confused, blurry. Not one thought could focus and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't land on anything. All she could think about was Nathaniel and how his body had retched on the floor. His face had paled and his chest had seemed to still.

She opened her eyes and focused on the man. "I can't focus. I need to know."

The man stood, snatching his pen off the table. "Well, I need to know who killed your husband."

"No, No, No," she screamed, pushing back from the table, slamming against the back. "He can't...."

"Oh he's dead Hannah and it's your fault."

Hannah's hands flew to her face, as she crashed to the floor, pain shooting up her legs, pain she didn't even feel as an ache smashed through her, slicing through every part of her. She had killed him. Killed the only man she'd ever love. She slammed her fists on the floor, before they were retched behind her. She was yanked up, as tears rushed down her face, Nathaniel's bright blue eyes filled her mind. Eyes that she would never again see. What had she done?

Mathis propelled her back into the cell. She stumbled and landed on the floor, the coldness floating up her arms. She was sure somewhere this was abuse, but what did she care. She deserved what she received. She leaned her head against the floor, as tears rushed down her face, and the world around her swirled. Nathaniel had had so much potential. He would have done so much good. Now who would finish his research? Make it.... She stilled, listening to the soft footsteps come closer to her.

"If you had truly loved him, you'd help us." Mathis's voice was cold, monotone. How could he maintain such a calmness or was there a rage inside, ready to unleash on her?

She sat back on her heels, pushing the curls from her face. Why would someone want to kill Nathaniel? It had to have something to do with his father's candidacy. Or was it the research? Who wouldn't want his research to come to light? Someone who would lose if his technology became mainstream. "Mathis, do you think this has anything to do with his box?"

"I have thought of that?"

"Is there anyone close to him, maybe someone who knows him intimately, who would suffer if his research came to life?"

Mathis's jaw moved slightly from side to side, as if he contemplated a thought. "Perhaps," he finally said.

"In the last phone call, I received, they said, he wouldn't be available at 1p.m."

Heat flared in Mathis's eyes, but he said nothing.

"How did they know that? We had plans to spend that day alone?"

"I think you've given us what we need." He spun, rushing out of the room.

Hannah stood, wrapping her arms around her waist. What piece of the puzzle had she just given him?

Chapter Fifteen

A fog covered his mind. Hazy voices surrounded him. Nathaniel stilled, focusing, listening. They were all deep, masculine. But not one feminine. Why was he listening for a feminine one? Because he was listening for the one he loved. Dear Lord, had he saved her sister? Nathaniel's eyes flew open locking on bed rails, and an IV attached to a metal pole. Hospital. Arguing caught his attention. His gaze darted around the room, until he locked on his father having a heated discussion with Abigail's father.

"But they'll win," the presidential candidate said.

"My son, Harry." His father pounded on his chest. "My precious boy. The child I held in my arms. I can't risk him. I can't."

"They just gave him a sleeping drink."

"And proved they can get to him. Mitchell is right. They won't stop unless I meet their demand."

What were they talking about?

"I'm done talking about this. Mitchell will take my place. All will be well." His father turned, stopping in his tracks. Their eyes locking. A smile slipped on his father's face before he rushed towards him, taking his hand. "How are you, son?"

"Han...." His mouth clamped shut. He had little energy. So little he could barely speak

A grimace filled his father's face. "You're going to be alright."

"Hannah," he pushed out.

"Don't ask me about her."

Nathaniel laid his head back. Why was he being so hesitant? She was innocent, forced. Her sister. Did he at least save her sister?

"Sis...?"

"The agents were able to extract her immediate family. Though it doesn't appear there was any real threat against them."

He had saved her. Had protected her sister, like he promised. Nathaniel closed his eyes as weariness pushed down on his limbs, begging him to slip away to dreamland. But not one part of him wanted to rest. Had they arrested Hannah? He would have to set the record straight. "She's innocent."

"She manipulated you, Nathaniel. Don't you see it?"

He scrunched his brows. What? No. She would have drunk the poison if he hadn't stopped her. She had even tried to tackle him. He was done not believing in her. She was innocent. But was he going to have to prove it? Who would have wanted to take him out? He analyzed the events in his mind. Who would have? This must have something to do with his father. They apparently wanted him to resign. But why? For what purpose? And Mitchell was taking over. Mitchell. He clenched his teeth. Wasn't Mitchell the one who said they had cleared Hannah? But Mathis had said differently. Something wasn't right here.

Nathaniel tried to open his eyes but exhaustion pushed his lids back down. His body wanted him to slip back into the sweet world he had just left. He had been dreaming of being wrapped in Hannah's arms - feeling her fingers trail his shoulder. Her soft breath had brushed against his cheek, awaking every one of his senses. He swallowed hard. He had to find some way to rescue her, prove her innocence. But how was he to do that from a bed?

He needed Mathis. He needed to talk to him so he could find out what his buddy knew.

He forced his eyes open. He couldn't rest until he had rescued her. "Dad," his voice sounded like a croak.

His father looked up. "Sleep son."

"Get me Mathis, please." He licked his dry lips.

"You need to rest. Mathis is working hard on things."

"Dad, please."

His lids closed again, but he pried them open, fighting the gravity that attacked at them. He needed to talk to Mathis soon, before the exhaustion won, but he didn't know how much time he had. His eyes closed a slit. Had they given him a drug or something that made him tired? Or was it just the effect of the poison? "I know who did it," he whispered.

His father bent close to him as his face blurred and slightly darkened. "Who?"

"Mitchell," he whispered before the darkness overcame him.

Chapter Sixteen

Was there any hope? Hannah focused on the grey concrete blocks in front of her as the overhead light slightly swayed back and forth. If she just had a Bible. Something that would bring her comfort, peace. Maybe she would be able to find some magic prayer she could recite that would convince God to bring Nathaniel back from the dead? Fresh tears gathered in her eyes and began slipping down her cheeks. She rolled over and looked at the ceiling, wishing she could see through it. See all the way to heaven to find out if God really did exist. She wanted to ask him what the point of all this was. Why would he allow one of his followers to get entangled with a girl who was too weak to make a decision? Thus causing his death. A tightness clenched in her, making her want to curl up in a ball and forget life. It really was all her fault and there was no way to fix the situation. At least not her. Her sister always said the Lord could work miracles. Could he work one for her now? A miracle she would pay anything for. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, releasing it in a small stream but the pain still raged in her, engulfing all of her. If He'd just help her. Something grew in her, a yearning to know she was no longer alone, that someone would take care of her despite the fact she had caused the death of the one she loved. She should ignore the yearning. She didn't deserve it. In fact, she deserved the hottest part of hell. An image came to her. An image of laying in Nathaniel's arms, snuggling close to him, as he read her a few verses, trying to teach her his faith. He wouldn't want her to deny it. No, he would want her to have it. Perhaps, if she accepted it, she could go to heaven and ask his forgiveness.

What would it be like to be cleaned, forgiven as he always said? There was only one way to find out. She rolled over again and buried her face into her pillow as tears seeped from her. Please Lord, was all she could mutter. Please. The pain seeped in her - a raw pain that attacked at what she held most dear. A need to be in control, to fix everything. To do everything on her own. But she was weak. And the pain that sliced through her showed her that. Please forgive me, I just want to be renewed," she whispered again burying her face further. A softness seemed to surround her, as a warmth filled her. A warmth that dug into her, covering the pain, washing it away. Though it still hurt, she knew there was something pure, something sweet about the softness that intermingled with the pain. A softness that gave her hope. Maybe the Lord would give her a chance. A chance to try and make things right.

The jail door clicked open and she flinched. Hannah blinked as the current Secretary of State Robert Mitchell walked in wearing a fine tailored suit, and his hair slicked back. A softness filled his misty grey eyes.

He walked to her and stopped in front of her. "How are you, Hannah?"

She swallowed hard. Why was he here? Was he another interrogation technique? But what else could she give them? She had nothing else.

"You've been cleared?" he said

She furrowed her brows. What did he mean?

"I'm here to take you to Nathaniel and your sister."

"Nathaniel." She jumped from her cot, stopping in front of him as hope piled through her. Was he telling the truth? "My sister."

"They both are fine."

Hannah took a step towards the door and then stilled. What did he mean they were fine? The interrogator had said Nathaniel was dead. Was he playing with her mind? Tricking her so that she'd give out information. But why? "He's alive?"

"It wasn't a poison. Just a drug to render him unconscious. That was all. Will you come with me?" He held out his hand, beckoning her to him, peace covering his face.

"But Mathis?"

"Is someone not to trust. He's the mastermind behind this mess with his rabid jealousy of Nathaniel. His personal cell phone records prove it."

Hannah bent her head to the side. She had no idea what to think. Who to trust? What to do? She ran a hand through her hair stopping at the back of her neck. Mathis being the guilty one didn't make sense. What would he gain? There didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to this. If Nathaniel was well, he'd surely come for her. Wouldn't he? "I don't know."

"He's at the hospital. Waiting for you. He sent me to get you."

Of course, if he was sick and in the hospital, he couldn't come to her. And how would he call? She nodded, and wrapped her arms around her waist and followed him out the door. She was in the Lord's hands. Come what may.

Hannah looked out the window of the SUV while she laid her hand against the hard cold glass. Every part of her yearned for the trip to the hospital to be quick, so that she could see Nathaniel. See how he faired. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Mitchell grabbed his phone, raising it to his ear. Something about the man put her off. Some internal warning. Was it the too slick smile or the eyes that contained a slither of steel? Had she trusted the wrong person? She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a slow smooth stream. She couldn't quite figure out how to calm the nerves rattling in her. Dear Lord, she prayed. Help me.

"What," Mitchell growled out. "That man is a fool, but we have other routes to take." His glare-filled gaze slid to her.

Every part of her stiffened. What was going on?

"I'll see you there." Mitchell hung up the phone, tossing it to the side. "He's still bent on that project isn't he?"

"The clean energy one."

"Yes." His eyes darkened.

A cold sliver sliced through her. What did she know about this man? Not much. Just that he was an acquaintance of her husband. Was he even telling her the truth about Nathaniel being alive? She shouldn't have gotten in the car with this man. She turned back to the window watching the trees slide by in a slight blur as tears covered her eyes. If Nathaniel was dead why would he need her? Something just wasn't right. A mass of confusion filled her, making all her thoughts jumble together.

"That project will cause quite an uproar," Mitchell said.

"It will give my children a better future."

"And destroy the livelihood of some."

Was he an oil....?

A blast sounded. The SUV skidded. A flash of light raced by the car. A scream escaped her lips as she flung her arms around her head. What was going on? Had They come for her? Please Lord, Please, she cried again.

Another bright red light flashed across the road. The SUV tilted. Falling back on all fours. She peeked between her fingers, noticing the driver of the car, looped to the side. Blood oozed from his head. Lord. The door of the vehicle was yanked open. A man stood before her with a burning fire behind him. The man with the dark curly hair. The one she had first seen. He walked towards her, yanking her hands from her face.

She kicked, screamed, crying.

A click sounded in her ear. She turned. Mitchell stood with a gun pointed at her face. "I'd behave, if I was you."

A rattle piled through her as understanding cleared her thoughts. So the mastermind had been revealed.

The black hair man yanked her from the SUV and slid a black hood over her face, shielding her in complete darkness. Wires sliced into her skin as they were wrapped around her wrists. As the burning heat flared around her, the man lifted her off the ground, tossing her over his shoulder. Her stomach cringed while air raced from her.

"If your father-in-law had just resigned, it wouldn't have come to this," Mitchell said.

Resign. He wanted Nathaniel's father to resign. But why? To keep him from pushing legislation in favor of the box through congress.

"I have got clients to serve. Clients who don't want their oil revenue to diminish."

Greed. She should have known. This was all about keeping the kings in power rich. Who cares if the box might have saved the world?

Chapter Seventeen

"Nathaniel said Mitchell's behind this?"

The darkness began seeping from Nathaniel's mind as his thoughts came into focus. His father believed him. Would they now free Hannah? A yawn escaped from his lips as he fought to once again open his eyes.

"It's just all coincidental at the moment. The best we can do is limit contact," Sen. Seton said.

"This isn't just coincidence, but manipulation. He encouraged Nathaniel to leave in order to give Hannah the opportunity to get the poison. He then encouraged him to return just when Hannah could drug him. It's him."

"And I believe you, but what can we do?"

What could they do? Yes, it was all coincidental but it made sense. The rat was always right. Couldn't they see that? Why keep experimenting? Just arrest the man.

"Can't they just investigate? " his father asked.

"We will stay on it," a deep monotone voice said.

Mathis. Nathaniel's eyes fluttered, as he fought to open them. He needed to talk to Mathis. Have him bring Hannah here. Light pierced his vision as he opened his eyes a slit and spotted his father standing with Mathis and Sen. Seton.

"I want Hannah," he pushed out and all eyes snapped to him.

"Nathaniel," his father said rushing to him, taking his hand. "Just rest my boy."

He was done resting. While these fools argued whether to go after Mitchell, his love was out there. Vulnerable. Probably being interrogated. No matter what she had done before, she hadn't given him the drug. They needed to realize that. He looked at his arms. Thankfully there was no longer an IV. Nathaniel pulled his hand from his father's. He gripped the cords and yanked them off his chest.

He shoved from the bed, as the world around him swirled.

"Nathaniel." His father gripped his shoulders pushing him back down. "You need to rest."

He swung, missing his father who was no more than a blur. "I won't stop. Take me to her. Or bring her here."

His father looked at Mathis who stepped to his side.

"Has she been charged with anything?" Nathaniel said before falling back against the bed, a weight pushing down on each of his limbs as weariness attacked him.

"Not yet, but they are considering conspiracy charges," Mathis said.

"Based on...."

Mathis pushed his lips in a thin line.

"Bring her to me." He looked at Abigail's father. "Or I will go to the media with the story. And boy will it be a story."

Sen. Seton planted his hands on his hips and turned to Mathis. "Have her brought here."

Mathis shook his head and raised the phone, turning from them. Nathaniel closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. How long would it take for them to bring her here? Hopefully not long.

"What do you mean?" a low harshness filled Mathis' voice

Nathaniel flinched, his eyes flying open.

"I told...." Mathis lowered his hand, and the phone slipped from his grasp.

What had happened? Was she alright? Nathaniel pushed from the bed, his legs wobbling. Just then Sen. Seton's phone rang. Seton picked up his phone. "Yes."

The color drained from his face.

"What is it?" Nathaniel cried. Something had happened to her.

Seton lowered the phone and turned to him. "Apparently Mitchell was ambushed. They can't find any trace of him at the scene."

"My guy said he picked up Hannah," Mathis said, with a grimness etched onto his face.

"Hannah," Nathaniel shouted.

"I will find her." Mathis rushed to the door. Nathaniel propelled from the bed, racing to him. "Wait for me."

Mathis stopped.

"Nathaniel." His father jumped in front of him. "Let Mathis do his job. Get back in bed."

Nathaniel slipped around him and scour the room, finding his clothes lying on a chair. He ripped off the hospital gown, throwing on his pants. The world swirled around him, but it settled. He was regaining his strength

"Nathaniel...."

Nathaniel grabbed his shirt and turned focusing on his father. "Never again will I put the wishes of others before her."

He rushed to Mathis gripping his arm, running with him out the door. A team of agents surrounded them as they left, encompassing them. Nathaniel threw his shirt over his cold body. He looked back, noticing several agents still stood at the hospital door where Sen. Seton remained. How many were there?

He rushed with the agents to a back entrance, as he listened to Mathis speak into a phone, saying to have a car ready.

Like waves guiding a piece of bark to the shore the agents led him out the door, the bright sun smashing into his eyes, blinding him. What had that drug done to him? He shook his head. He couldn't let it hamper him. A black SUV drove in front of him and the door flew open as he jumped in. Mathis slipped in the front picking up a baseball hat. He tossed it and a pair of black sunglasses at Nathaniel.

Mathis slipped his sunglasses over his eyes as the car roared to life. Nathaniel had no idea where they were going, but he knew he must find her.

"We were thinking of releasing her to see if she'd lead us to the mastermind," Mathis said. "So we put a tracker on her. One hard to trace. We'll find her."

Nathaniel laid his head against the seat. They had a way to find her. Hopefully, they could get to her in time.

Hannah screamed as the man dropped her - her knees jamming on the floor. A yelp escaped her as pain shot up her legs. Where was she? The scent of jet fuel filled the place reminding her of a marine hanger she once visited. Several men walked back and forth dressed in light brown Camis that had frayed edges and ragged seams. Mitchell stood in the center wearing his finely tailored suit, his black hair slicked back. A man in a white robe with a turban wrapped around his head spoke in Arabic rapidly, as the Secretary of State crossed his arms. What were they arguing over? Nathaniel's box. She swallowed hard as dryness covered her mouth. Every part of her yearned for a glass of water, but she'd ask them for nothing.

Mitchell shook his head and turned, walking towards her. A slick smile crossed his face as he stopped in front of her. "The wife of the man with the most important invention they say."

She shrank back while he reached into his pockets. pulling out a document. "Think he'll give it up for you."

Was that his plan? To make him sign it away. But it wouldn't stand in court. Never. But he talked as though Nathaniel actually lived. Did he actually?

A loud chuckle sounded from Mitchell. He pulled out a cell phone, holding it out. "We'll see who he loves more."

He turned holding out the phone to a man with dark tan skin wearing all black and carrying a gun.

The man took the phone, his dark glare fastening on her. He raised the phone, pressing a button.

"Well hello, young Nathaniel," he said.

Hannah jumped, wishing to push to her feet. Was Nathaniel on the other end of the line? Was he there wishing to speak to her? If she could just get to that phone. Tell him not to give up his research.

"I have someone you might want to talk to."

The man walked to her, and shoved the phone against her ear, pushing her backwards.

"Nathaniel," she cried.

"Hannah," his voice rushed to her almost in a plea.

He was alive. He was. Tears rushed down her face. She yearned to jump through the phone grasping him. Holding him. Apologizing for what she had done.

"Hang tight, Hannah, we're going to free you."

"Don't do...."

The phone was yanked from her. "No," she cried, crawling as best she could to the phone. Rough concrete bruised her skin.

"You want your girl, I want your box," the man snared into the phone, before swiping a finger over it.

The man chuckled as he turned swinging the gun over his shoulders and walking away. What did they have in mind? She closed her eyes tight, while tears rushed down her face. Lord please whatever it is protect Nathaniel. Please.

Nathaniel looked at the white i-phone in his hand. Why did they call from Mitchell's phone? Were they trying to make it seem like he wasn't involved? But Nathaniel knew he was. They were just going to have a hard time proving it.

Mathis walked to him and stopped, pressing an earpiece to his ear. Probably receiving some new information. His hand lowered and he folded his hands in front of his waist. For once, his glasses were off and tucked in his pocket, making his black eyes noticeable.

"They want the box," Nathaniel said with a slight edge to his voice. His creation. His work. The box that Hannah said would change the world. Nathaniel ran his hands through his hair stopping at the nape of his neck. They must want the rights to it, so they can squash it. But how would that even work? Were they that desperate? If anyone tried to file a patent, they would snag them, but maybe that wasn't their plan. Maybe they just wanted to keep him from filing one.

He shook his head and turned, planting his hands on his hips. Mathis had said a plan was forming. But would the plan work? Because there was no question in his mind. As selfish as it was, he'd sale the world's future for Hannah's life. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

Mathis walked closer to him. "The place is well-guarded with snipers on the walls."

Nathaniel's heart dropped. His princess was imprisoned in an impenetrable fortress. How were they going to get to her?

"But the FBI is looking at several options."

Nathaniel turned looking at the hanger off in the distance - a tall steel building with large roll-up doors and surrounded by several barrels. Outside sat a small plane. How much research had he and his professor put into that box? The design. The calculations. They had first powered a small lamp, and then a microwave and just before the campaign a small toy car. It had run for one mile. Just a little more research, just a little bit more time and they would have it perfected. But none of that was worth Hannah. Hannah who would have killed herself to save him.

Nathaniel looked at his friend. He would think he was crazy. Well someday he hoped the fool fell in love. Then he'd understand. "I'll give it to them."

"We can't...."

"I'll give it to them," he said holding out his hands. "Come up with any plan you want. Use me as a decoy. I don't care. Let's just get her home safe."

Two men in suits stood behind Mathis, looking at him. "Are you sure?" one of them asked.

"No, he's not." Mathis spun around, fear etched on his face. Very few times had he seen such emotions from his friend. "He's the future vice-president's son. We can't use him."

"And he might help to bring down a corrupt secretary of state," the agent with light blond hair said.

Mathis's shoulders deflated. What thoughts must be roaring through his friend's mind? He wished he could take the time to console him, but there was such little time. He had to save his love.

Nathaniel looked at the agents. "I'll do it."

Chapter Eighteen

There had to be a way out. Hannah crawled on her knees, biting her bottom lip as small rocks dug into her skin. She stopped in front of the door, looking at the metal lock. If she could get her hands free perhaps, she could pick it. Something she had never done but she would try anything at the moment to keep Nathaniel from selling his work. She looked around the small concrete room, spotting nothing but the cold floor and smudges of dirt. There wasn't even a cup of water or blanket to keep her warm. Hannah turned her gaze to the hinges of the door. Red rust covered them and small flecks lay on the floor. It must be brittle. If she could just pry the bar out, she could open the door, but again she had no tool. She sat back on her heels - a puff of frustration escaping her, blowing a curl from her lips. How she hated to be the damsel that couldn't save herself. She had always made sure she was strong, never having to depend on anyone especially a man. But life was full of irony, wasn't it? There really was nothing she could do. She had tried depending on Nathaniel's God, but so far nothing happened. Why?

Words her sister once told her floated across her mind. God isn't a fairy godmother, Hannah. He doesn't exist just to please us.

That had to be her sister's favorite line. How many times had her sister said it to her? Plenty. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she needed to stop expecting God to just snap his fingers and save her and instead accept the fate he had for her.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. On her knees, Hannah stumbled back, biting on her tongue as pain shot up her legs. The door slammed back. She flinched, her nails digging into her palms.

The man with dark curly hair let a smirk cross his face. "Too bad," we won't have time to get better acquainted."

His black eyes roamed her up and down.

Bile rose up her. She swallowed hard ignoring the acidic burn through her throat. She'd rather die than let that man touch her.

He walked to her, grabbing her arm, and yanking her to her feet. A yelp escaped her lips as his fingers dug painfully into her skin. The man propelled her out the door, her feet stumbling as he held her up, keeping her from crashing to the floor.

"Had another conversation with your little boy," the man said with a thick Middle-Eastern accent. "He values you more than his work."

He was going to give it to them. Hannah felt the energy drain from her - her hope being deflated. All his hard work would come to nothing.

The man dragged her to where a small plane of some sort waited with a pilot seated in it, ready to take off.

Mitchell sat tied up in a chair - sweat pouring from his face. What? She stifled the scream that pushed through her. What a charlatan he was. As soon as she could she'd shout out his guilt, but she had a feeling, they had no intention of letting her live. For why else would he have revealed himself.

She was shoved into a hard wooden chair, her body tied to it with a sharp wire that dug into her arms and legs. Hannah closed her eyes. Now she couldn't even move. She was no more than a girl tied to the tracks with a train bearing down on her. Help me Lord. There is not anything I can do. Hannah opened her eyes, stilling. Wood shaving. A small pile of wood shaving lay next to a block, probably used to anchor the plane. She licked her dry lips. She didn't know if she would get a chance to use it, but she wanted those wood shavings. Hadn't she seen enough crime movies, where the hostage helped by distracting the villain by throwing something in his face?

Hannah raised her hands up enough. They came up to at least her chest. She should be able to reach them. Hopefully, she wouldn't knock herself out in the process.

She glanced at the men, who looked as though they argued over something. Completely distracted. Hannah pushed slightly and rocked the chair back. She then propelled her body forward. A yelp escaped her as her body and chair slammed against the floor. Air rushed from her lungs. Light danced in front of her as blood dribbled down her nose. Though a fog inched over her mind, she grasped the shavings while feet rushed to her.

"What a foolish girl." A harsh chuckle filled the air.

Her body was propelled upward and the chair righted.

A gun filled her vision. "Don't try that again."

A deep hate grew in this man's eyes. Who was he? Probably someone whose boss would stand to lose if Nathaniel's box hit the market. The man turned and left as another's laughter floated to her.

Mitchell shook his head. "For such a smart boy, Nathaniel sure picked a stupid wife. But at least neither of you will be alive much longer."

Fear prickled the back of her neck. They were going to kill Nathaniel. They weren't just after rights to his box. They wanted to lure him here, so with one clean shot, they could take him out. Thus ending all chances of his research changing the world.

Hannah gripped her fingers into a fist feeling the wood shavings. She wouldn't let that happen.

Nathaniel pulled up the zipper of his black poncho that covered the bullet proof vest he wore. His armor. A smirk crossed his face. He wasn't exactly the knight in shining armor type. More like the sage that helped the king navigate the tricky world of science. But he had to rescue his princess.

He turned and spotted Mathis checking his sager, probably making sure there were bullets.

They had received a call an hour earlier demanding Nathaniel come and sign his work away or they would end the life of his precious wife and Mitchell. Were they going to try and pass Mitchell off as a hostage? Doubt trickled across his mind. Doubt that made him question his conclusion about the man. What if he really was a hostage, and they were wrong? But he had to be the master mind. All the results pointed to him. It was him who pushed for him to marry Hannah. It was him who talked him into getting away from Hannah so she could retrieve the drug. And it was Mitchell who owned one of the largest oil companies in the world. There was no doubt in his mind Mitchell was guilty. And he intended to call him out on it. But a question floated around in his mind: did Hannah know? And if she did they must not be planning on keeping her alive.

Nathaniel took a deep breath and slowly released it before turning and looking at the large hangar in the distance half hidden behind the red and orange rays of the fading sun. A river with rippling dark blue water and white foam behind it added the perfect accent as gulls flew overhead. The scent of salt and sea meshed together making the air seem briny. Somewhere over there waited his love.

Mathis walked up to him; a slight wobble filled his eyes. "Are you sure?"

His friend would try to protect him until the day he died. Nathaniel placed a hand on Mathis' shoulder, squeezing. "Thanks Mathis, for being with me."

He pushed his lips in a thin line.

"I'm sure."

Mathis nodded, and then motioned for Nathaniel to follow. No, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to tell Mathis that. All he wanted was Hannah back. Safe in his arms.

Nathaniel slipped into the SUV completely rigged with cameras, recorders, and tracker devices just in case. Mathis slipped into the driver's seat. Nathaniel leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Please Lord, let this work. Let them rescue Hannah. Mathis and him would walk in the building and sign the documents while providing a live feed through a camera. A small one that was attached to a button on his coat so an advance swat team could monitor the situation. A camera, agents above Mathis, swore Mitchell's men wouldn't be able to detect. Once the documents were signed and he got Hannah out of the building a stealth swat team would cut the electricity, blinding everyone inside except the snipers hiding in the building. But just in case they got stuck in the building Mathis and he had night vision glasses that looked like ordinary sunglasses. The plan was simple, and the men who were to execute it were well trained but would it work?

Nathaniel looked out the window at the dock as the orange and red rays slowly dimmed and a grey light took over. The darkness would hopefully help cover the men who would try and save his wife. His wife.

Nathaniel tapped his fingers on the armrest of the seat. If they were successful where did Hannah and him go from here. Because the truth of the matter was, she had been forced to marry him. Would she want to continue on as his wife? To make love to him every night and wake up in his arms in the morning? To share a life, a life she might not have ever wanted to share? When this was all over, he would have to give her the option of a quiet divorce if she chose. He owed her that. The thought alone sent stabs pricking at his heart, but how could he force her into a union she might not want. One that would hold her hostage as if he was nothing but a controlling husband. One like the man who had destroyed her sister. A shiver slipped over him. He'd never be that person. Never let Hannah live such a life.

Mathis pulled around a corner, and a large metal structure came into view. Nathaniel's pulse sped up. It wouldn't be long now. His friend stopped the SUV next to a green dumpster. The stench of rotten fish surrounded him making him scrunch up his nose as a wave of nausea assailed him.

Mathis turned to him and nodded. Calmness seemed to penetrate from his friend. Nathaniel nodded back. He reached for his handle and opened the door, taking a step out, as the salty chill air surrounded him. This place would be perfect to hide a body. He shook his head and looked away from the dumpster with cardboard boxes falling out of it. Hopefully not his or Hannah's.

Mathis walked around, adjusting Nathaniel's coat to hide the weapons under it. Nathaniel patted the one pistol on his side. He was sure that as soon as they arrived, they'd be patted down and the guns taken. He reached to his arm and touched under his sleeve, where Mathis had expertly hidden another weapon, a small gun, he hoped would go unnoticed.

He walked to Mathis's side. This was probably the first time, he had fought with Mathis. He had tried when younger, as the bullies attacked him, but Mathis had shoved him aside and took the punches, before overcoming their opponents.

Nathaniel focused on the large roll up door of the building. It looked daunting in the fading light. A few shadows moved in front of it, probably men aware of their fast approach. Mathis had told him to look straight ahead but a part of him yearned to see if the snipers were in place.

As they approached, two men with guns raised to the sky, walked towards them. Nathaniel and Mathis both raised their hands as they had talked about earlier.

One of the men lowered his gun, his dark eyes boring into him. The man smirked, the scent of sweat penetrating from him. He ran his hands over Nathaniel pulling out the pistol attached to his waist. The man moved to Mathis, running hands over him - pulling out several guns and knives. But the ones in their sleeves had been missed. They then ran scanners over them, looking for listening and recording devices, but the technology on them had sensors to keep them from being detected.

"Let's go," the man with a thick Middle-Eastern accent said.

Nathaniel focused on the small door off to the side. Was she behind it? Was she near? A small bead of sweat fell down his face despite the chilled air. He stepped in front of Mathis as the man opened the door for him. Mathis grabbed his shoulder. "Wait."

"Remember they need my signature."

Mathis dropped his hand; a solemnness in his gaze. Nathaniel gave him a small smile hoping to reassure him. He then turned back around and focused on the darkness as he stepped into a door. A light turned on and he stilled, his eyes focusing on the sight before him.

"Hannah," he shouted.

She jerked to him. Tears pouring down her face. She sat tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Her dark curls flew around her face contrasting with the blanchness of her cheeks. His love. A heat pushed through him. He'd kill them.

Next to her also tied to a chair sat Mitchell.

Nathaniel mustered up the best glare he could, hoping it would send a message. "Hurt her, and I swear you'll pay."

Mitchell jerked back before a small smirk crossed his face. He slowly shook his head. "You'll never be able to prove it."

Oh he would. Nathaniel just focused on him, letting his glare speak for him.

"Untie me," Mitchell said, meeting Nathaniel with his own glare.

The guy with the dark curly hair pushed his lips in a thin line shaking his head. He walked over to Mitchell, and bent low, whispering something in his ear.

"I said untie me," Mitchell demanded.

The man stepped back, taking a long blade from his belt. In a few quick jerks, Mitchell's hands were free and he stood, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's get this over with."

Thumping filled the room. A muffled cry sounded. His gaze swung back to Hannah. She shook her head so hard her curls bounced against her cheeks. She didn't want him to do it. But she had to realize he loved her more than his work.

"Silence girl," the slender man said. He rushed to her, his hand flying through the air as it slammed down on her cheek.

"No," he yelled rushing to her. He bent low, slamming into the man, propelling him to the ground. The slender man crumpled onto the floor, his body jerking. He jumped to his feet, hate burning in his eyes. The man whipped out a gun, seething. "Don't test me."

"If you shoot me, you won't get my signature."

"Enough of this," Mitchell said.

"Untie her, now," Nathaniel demanded.

A smirk crossed Mitchell's face making Nathaniel's stomach clench. What was that look for? Something wasn't right.

"Fine, we'll do it your way. Untie her."

The tall slender man walked towards Hannah, keeping his eyes focused on Nathaniel. A trail of blood slipped down his busted lips adding to the demonic look. He unsheathed his knife, and sliced through the wires.

Hannah jumped from the chair, her arms flying around his neck as whimpers escaped her. Her small trembling body pressed into his while he tried to shield her with his arms. A sense of completeness filled him while the smell of lavender and sweat floated around him. His love was once again in his arms. And he had a feeling, she'd be there for the rest of their lives. The last few minutes that remained.

"Don't. They're not going to let us live," she cried

He bent to her lips and slightly brushed them with his own. "I know," he whispered.

Tears swelled in her big green eyes contrasting with the soot that covered her face. She buried her head into his shoulder as the slender man approached him with a clipboard. He didn't have to glance at it to know what it was, but he looked down anyway. Not a contract, but a will. A will dated a month ago, giving Sanders INC. Mitchell's oil company, rights to his creation. He should have known that this was a trap. A trap he had walked into and one he'd willingly walk into again, just to be with Hannah. His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath as he picked up the pen. So was this it? The end?

God help them now. He turned to look at Mathis and stilled. Mathis reached to his right cheek, and scratched it. Something leapt in him. Their old childhood signal. Was there a new plan? One to free them? He swallowed hard, and pulled Hannah close to his body.

"What are you waiting for?" Mitchell demanded.

Mathis reached to his chin, tapping 1, 2.

Mitchell swiped the clipboard from slender man's hand, slamming it against Nathaniel's shoulder. "Sign now."

Mathis tapped 3.

Nathaniel slammed the board, smacking Mitchell in the face. The man stumbled back as the lights went out. He threw Hannah down, covering her body with his, as bullets flew through the air. He reached for the glasses, shoving them on his face. The world focused. Mathis stood shooting,

He jerked, his hand flying to his shoulder before falling back.

"No," Nathaniel screamed. He jumped to his feet racing to his friend. He reached for his sleeve. He had to help him.

Someone gripped his collar jerking him to his feet.

"Stop it."

A cold barrel was shoved against his temple. The lights cut on. Before him the slender man lay in a puddle of blood. Several other bodies filled the place. Mathis face had ashen. He gripped his shoulder - blood seeping through his fingers. His gun lay to his side.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mitchell with blood streaming from his temple. "Put down your weapons."

He looked up as several snipers placed their guns down, raising their hands. There were at least four, he counted standing on a walkway above the hanger.

"Now, I'm going to back up and leave, and you're going to let me or the golden boy's head will explode."

He turned at slight footsteps. Hannah came towards him, her hands clenched. A large bruise had formed on her cheek, making the wet stains on her face more prominent.

"Take me instead," she said.

"What a noble sacrifice. But darling, you're just not worth as much."

Nathaniel's fingers reached to his sleeve, feeling the cold steel of the small pistol. His fingers found the small button Mathis had taught him to push.

"But you don't understand...."

"Enough of this."

He began walking backwards pulling Nathaniel with him.

"You just don't," she shouted. Her hand rushed through the air, as something flew from it. Nathaniel bent, smacking Mitchell in the stomach. He reached for the small pistol, slamming it in Mitchel's chin, pulling. A shot sounded, and he scrunched, as wet chunks flew against his face. He stood numb, while the body fell behind him. His eyes locked with Mathis' who held a gun pointed at them. Nathaniel's gaze swung to his wrist, covered in a dark red substance.

Mathis shook his head as he stumbled towards him, clutching the shoulder wound. Hannah ran to his friend, ripping off the bottom of her shirt and pressing it against the wound.

Nathaniel glanced down at the body behind him, a hole under the chin. His hand fell to his side as he let the gun slip from his fingers - a numbness seemed to cover him. An ambulance siren pierced through the air while he walked to his friend. It was over. And Hannah was safe.

"It's just a shoulder injury," Mathis whispered.

Once more Mathis had risked himself for him. "Thank you."

"You're the one who saved the day." A rare look of mischief entered in Mathis's eyes.

Hannah leaned her head against his shoulder, clenching him. Perhaps he had. He buried his face into her hair, catching a small width of lavender intermixed with the scent of blood and sweat. He had saved the girl, but would he lose her in the end?

Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist, and sat on a chair in the cold waiting room of the hospital. Nathaniel had disappeared as soon as they arrived seeing to his friend's needs, making sure he received the best medical care possible. She looked around at the floral paintings of red roses and white lilies that decorated the walls. Perhaps they were meant to add a touch of pleasantness to the room. But no pleasantness would fill her. Nathaniel might have said he loved her. And maybe he forgave her. But where did they go from here? She had betrayed him, became a pawn in a massive game. Would he be able to look beyond that and build a life with her? A life she desperately wanted and would give anything for.

The door to the room opened, making her flinch. Nathaniel walked in wearing a scrub top and his blue jeans. Even disheveled he looked so handsome with his hair pushed in several different directions and dirt stains on his cheeks. A warmth spread through her, but dread completely covered it, making her feel cold and alone. Would she end up that way?

He walked towards her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"How is he?" she asked.

"He's fine. The bullet just grazed his shoulder."

A sigh escaped her. "Praise you, God."

He raised his brows.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's amazing how one reaches to a higher power in times of trouble."

He nodded, taking a couple steps until he stood right in front of her. His Adam's apple bobbed as if he swallowed hard. Was he about to tell her they were over? That he could never love her again. A pain seared across her heart, digging in deep. She squared her shoulders. No matter what he said, she'd take it. She deserved it.

"Hannah."

She glanced up. A wetness covered his eyes. Something shattered in her. So this would be it. The end before they ever had a chance at real love.

"Hannah," he whispered her name again. "I will always love you."

She turned from him batting at the tears pouring down her face. Why did this have to hurt so much? It felt as though her soul and heart were being ripped out with each word he spoke. How she hated Mitchell. If he hadn't used her, forced her into this, maybe she could have had him. Won him somehow.

Two strong hands took her shoulders, caressing them. "I won't force you to remain in the marriage."

She stilled. She hadn't expected to hear that.

She slowly turned, looking at the tear trailing down his cheek. "Force?" she whispered.

"I know you didn't marry me by choice."

"I...."

"So I'll grant you an easy divorce if you so choose."

Hannah wiped a tear from her face. If she chose? What if she didn't? Was there still hope? Something light grew in her, reaching to her toes. A lightness that made her want to clench him tight, never letting him go. She took a step closer to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I don't want that. I want you."

His eyes widened.

"I might have been forced to marry you, but I love you, Nathaniel. I don't want to leave you. I love you."

His arms flew around her, crashing her to him, his eyes brightening. "Hannah, do you tell the truth?"

She reached to his cheeks, rubbing her thumbs across them, spreading the wetness.

"For once, I am." A giggle escaped her.

He slammed his lips against hers, making her stumble backwards. Hannah gripped his shoulders, losing herself in the firmness of his lips caressing hers, evoking emotions only he could. A mix of light and pleasure exploded through her as she pulled him closer to her, making sure he'd never escape again. He pulled back, laying his forehead against hers, their breath mixing in a sweet union. A union that lies would never rip apart again.

Continue reading for a sample of The Rival Son

The Rival Son

J.M. Downey

Chapter One

Abigail Seton's hand slipped to her abdomen, resting. She stiffened, squeezing the fabric of her satin dress. A bead of sweat slipped down her face while she glanced around the small auditorium full of college students and the nation's elite: senators, congressmen, and CEOs. Had anyone noticed? Seen the movement she did - often with no thought? A female reporter wearing a tight red dress looked down at her notebook. An elderly woman tapped the shoulder of the man next to her. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.

She refocused and listened as her father stood on a stage behind a podium with bright lights boring down on him - his hands waved as he answered a question. He was doing well. Every question the moderator asked him, he had a well-prepared response to but so did his opponent.

The feeling of being watched crawled over her like it had all evening. She tried to ignore it, but it grew stronger, irritating her like an itch that demanded to be scratched. She glanced to the side, and her gaze connected with Ean Carter in his well-pressed West Point Uniform. A small smile nipped at the corners of his lips. She quickly looked away and clamped her eyes closed. Memories assaulted her. Memories she didn't want to think of. Memories that could ruin everything her father had spent his life building.

"My family strives to live out our values." Her father's words slammed into her. "It is these values that we hope to emulate for America's youth."

Abigail's hand once again slipped to her waist, lying flat as a pain turned inside of her. He knew not what he spoke of nor how far she had fallen. If the world were to find out, they would tear her apart. She swallowed hard, yanking her hand from her waist. She would do everything she could to ensure the nation still saw her as the chaste college student her father projected her up as. Glancing out the corner of her eye, she spotted Ean - his gaze still fixed on her. Which meant she'd do everything in her power to deny she had ever once loved him.

After the debate, she joined her mother on the stage, shaking hands with members of the audience and press. Various wives of senators commented on her dress, or how well the youth campaign she and Nathaniel led did while she pulled at the loose blouse she wore. It wasn't as form fitting as the shirts her designer kept suggesting she wear, but this would do. A laugh filled her, and she glanced to the side to see Ean leaning towards a young reporter. Under his arm he held his cap. His crisp gray uniform stretched over his broad muscular shoulders while a dark strand of hair fell across his forehead making his animated blue eyes stand out. A surge of jealousy pushed through her. The reporter seemed to be giggling as she asked him a question. Flirting. But what could Abigail do? Nothing.

Abigail's mother tapped her shoulder. Apparently she was done hobnobbing, and was ready to leave. Abigail followed her off the stage leaving the blaring lights and the large American Flag behind. A sigh escaped her when they slipped behind the safety of the curtains. She hated the limelight. Preferred raking out stalls to socializing with those who thought they ruled the country.

A bead of sweat slipped down her face again. She quickly wiped it away as a weariness settled over her. She always wanted to lean against something or lie in her bed, but her moments of rest were few and far between. She followed her mother down to a small hallway where they waited with a few agents for the large black SUV to be brought to them.

Her mother smacked one of the young agents on the shoulder in a playful gesture - her sensuous smile spreading over her face. Irritation settled deep in Abigail. Couldn't her mother at least leave the young agents alone? They were not much older than her own daughter. Taking a step backwards, Abigail slipped into another hallway. None of the agents saw her, or if they did, preferred to let her be. Who could get to her anyway? They had sealed this area off earlier as a way to quickly get them away. She made her way to a room, pushing the door open and letting a breath slip from her. Looking around she spotted rows of green chairs and desks. This must be a classroom. A perfect place to try and put her thoughts together and control the tears that rushed to the corners of her eyes. Tears that threatened her resolve. Had it really been three months since her world came crashing down. When she found out that the man she thought loved her, was a sham. An imposter just trying to bring her family down. Well, no more. He might have fooled her once but never again. She took a stepped back. A strong hand clasped her arm. Another flew to her mouth. Iciness sliced through her. Someone....

"Shh. Abigail it's just me."

She released her breath and removed herself from the traitor's arms. Squaring her shoulders she turned around and looked at the man who had once promised to love her above all others but had betrayed her in the cruelest way. "What do you want?"

"How are you doing, Abigail?"

How was she doing? Like he'd ever cared. No, she was just another conquest to him. A ploy in his father's political game. Well, she'd not let him win. There were always ways to maintain secrets. "I'm fine. But don't you think the press would eat it up if they found us like this?"

"I just...."

She took a step towards him, standing on her tiptoes, making herself come up to his chin. What a giant he was. Just like Nathaniel's shadow. "Listen to me. You made your choice. Now stay away from me."

"I made the choice you wanted me to make. But I never...."

She shook her head. Did he not realize the situation they were in? Their fathers were political rivals. Running for the same political seat. He was a fool if he thought they could somehow/someway maintain a relationship. No, the press would tear into them, label them some crazy Romeo/Juliet just waiting for the second they would kill themselves because they couldn't be together. The moment their fathers had accepted the presidential nominations they both knew things were over. He knew that. She knew that. So what was he doing here?

"Look." He gripped both her arms, pulling her closer. She ought to move back, free herself, but the sweet tingles of excitement pouring through her wouldn't let her. "I know you, Abigail. You don't look happy. You might smile, but I can tell. Have you had a chance to ride Charlie?"

Abigail's hand once again slipped to her stomach, resting. No, she hadn't. And she wouldn't risk it for a long time. Dear God, what would she do if he ever found out? The plans that she was secretly making could save her father's reputation, plans that caused great pain to sear across her heart but would be for the best.

Ean ran a thumb across her cheek, wiping away the warm tear that she didn't even realize had fallen. A strong pull made her lean her cheek into his hand and let the warmth caress her, entrance her as emotions swirled around. Emotions of love. Comfort. Something no one in her life ever gave her. Man, she craved it. Needed it. Ean moved closer to her, his other hand trailing up her back, as he leaned into her. The need to be comforted yanked on her more. Begging her to step into his embrace. Let him love her. Love her like she'd always needed to be loved. But it was that need for comfort, for love, that had made her fall into the enemy's bed. She took a step back though that yearning fought hard to make her seek the solace of his arms. She would just ignore it. She had to. For the sake of her father.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she turned from him, walking out of the room, knowing his gaze remained locked on her.

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Other Works by J.M. Downey

A Time to Say Goodbye

A Time to Overcome

A Love Forbidden

The Bonds of Tradition

American Prince

Privileged

Pardoned

Persecuted

Proclaimed

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