Senatorial Secrets Ch. 11

Author Note: The following story takes place on the same night, but different locations. Excerpts from different chapters have been included to help remind those following the series, of where all the players were last located. Thanks and enjoy. . .~ Red.

Taken from Ch. 08

"In time Savannah. . .It all takes time." He kissed her deeply and then watched her leave the small cottage he'd rented for their time together. When she was safely enclosed, with a driver that her bodyguard had recommended, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

"I've changed my mind. Savannah and the girls will be with me next week."

"Yes, Sir," the voice on the other end of the line answered. The knowing click was all Mitch heard when he hung up. . .

. . .Savannah closed her eyes and toyed with the rock Mitch had given her. "It's time," she whispered to herself as she thought of how Brad would feel when she told him she was leaving him. Would he be devastated? Would he beg her not to leave him? Would he threaten her? She shivered as she recalled the "missing boys" and "missing young men" that seemed to follow wherever her husband stayed. Why hadn't anyone made the connection yet? Was he God? She asked herself these questions over and over again as the car sped toward her Cincinnati home. . .

***** **** *****

Mitch stared at Savannah's daughters. The identical twins were just as beautiful as their mother. He felt the ring he'd given her dig slightly into his finger. It was a welcoming sting. It signified how much she cared for him. Not only had she agreed to this dinner with her children, she was also showing them that she'd committed herself to Mitch. He sipped his wine as he listened to her explain to her twins what this dinner meant. . .to not only himself, but to them as well.

"Mom we're happy for you," Gina said. Her smile, genuine; mirroring her sister's. "We knew this was coming and secretly we hoped it would have happened sooner, but," she glanced at Mitch, "he looks like he's worth the wait."

Mitch grinned and Savannah blushed as she gazed up at him. "He is," she answered and then kissed his lips. Gina grinned wider and pressed her leg against her sister's.

Gail lifted her glass of sparkling water and proposed a toast. Her sister followed her lead, lifting her glass as well. Mitch topped off Savannah's glass and as the four goblets chimed in the center of the table Gail proclaimed that the following years would be the highlight of all their lives. Brad, their father and Savannah's husband was not mentioned in the toast.

"When are you telling Dad?" Gail asked after replacing her glass. She slipped her hand to her lap, felt her sister's fingers and entwined them with her own.

Savannah sighed, settled herself against Mitch and basked in his support. "I would have told him earlier this week, but he's been under a lot of stress. I'm not sure what it is, but something is hounding him."

"The speech he's doing tonight?" Gina asked.

"No. . .he's done speeches so many times, he can probably write them in his sleep." Savannah shrugged her shoulders. "I really don't have a clue. He said something about having a deadline to meet or we'd all suffer. I wasn't sure what he was talking about, so I dropped the issue. Then again he really wasn't happy with me, since I told him you girls and I were not going to make it to his little publicity moment." She toyed with her salad, but eventually relaxed enough to enjoy the taste of the fresh vegetables.

"I bet that went over well," Gail said, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.

Mitch glanced over to Savannah and squeezed her hand. "It really doesn't matter how it went. You and your sister are here with us. Your mother looks stunning. We are in a beautiful private room, a staff to cater to our every whim, and for the first time, in what I bet is a long time. . .none of you are hounded by paparazzi and press."

The three of them readily agreed to his assessment and eventually settled into a meal of joyous laughter and intelligent conversation. When Mitch's phone rang, he quietly dismissed himself and left the room. Savannah watched him leave and then heard her daughters' giggle. She blushed as she realized they had seen her eyes wandering over her lover's derrière.

Mitch waved the kitchen staff from their stations and listened to his employee inform him that everything was ready. Mitch just had to give the word. He thought a moment. He had Savannah. He had her daughters' support and their best wishes. He didn't have to finish off Senator Scholastic. He could simply let Savannah have her divorce and then marry her. He thought of all the red tape and the legal battles that would follow. The tabloids. The newspapers. He pictured it all and its potential toll on Savannah and the two girls she loved.

"Do it." His voice was a cold as steel and just as hard. He closed the phone and then tapped the door, letting the kitchen crew know it was safe to come back in.

When he returned to Savannah's sigh he quickly caught himself up with the conversation and resumed his meal. The decision he'd made seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Savannah would be protected from Brad's ugliness and that is all that mattered.

Taken from Ch. 10

"Wait," Brad demanded, wondering for a moment if Samuel had taken his gun with him. He knew he had, and if he hadn't then Peter would have searched for one anyway. Peter knew, just like all his bodyguards did, where Brad kept his weapons. "There has to be a way to reason with you," he said.

Peter shook his head. "No, there isn't. You don't have enough money. I just want you embarrassed, humiliated, so fucked publicly that maybe . . . just maybe you'll find only one way out . . . the way my brother did. You've got a week. If you don't publicly confess, then your wife and daughters will get everything I have and then so will the public."

***** **** *****

Peter waited on the platform as Brad stood behind the large podium. He couldn't see the Senator's face. He didn't need to in order to know Brad was uneasy with what who was protecting his life. Peter had taken the week off, allowing Brad some personal time to come to a decision regarding the photos, the video tapes, the disks. . .all of them weapons of Peter and his deceased siblings. Brad was to have his answer after the speech. Peter silently wished the answer would be delivered tonight, right in the middle of Brad's pimping of himself, but he knew that was not going to happen. Brad would stall as long as he could and the night still had many hours to go.

Brad could feel Peter's eyes on him. He rubbed his hands together, as if it were a natural thing for him to do. His words flowed easily; not once did he glance at the cards he'd brought to the stage with him. His voice rang strong as he talked about government reform, education, unemployment and family values. He heard a cough from behind him and knew Peter had chocked for a moment on that last part of his speech. Brad felt his stomach tighten as he thought of all the evidence Peter had collected of his homosexual lust. . .it wasn't enough that he was gay, he could have recovered publicly and politically for that. . .it was how he liked to play. His preference for not only young men, but young men who were forced into submission and then either paid or discarded by an untimely death were the things that he would never recover from.

As his speech began to wind down, he noticed a face in the crowd. He paled and for the first time faltered over his words, coughed to cover his slip up and then went back to facing the smiling supporters.

Anthony sneered at Brad. He felt the weight of the gun in his pocket and the pride of knowing that the convention center's security still trusted him enough to let him in without a pass. He'd even talked his way out of getting scanned with the metal detectors. A sure sign that no one ever thought Senator Scholastic would warrant an assassins bullet. But they didn't know Brad. They didn't know the sick individual behind the handsome smile and the gleaming eyes. Too many had listened to his bullshit and were clouded. But not Anthony. . .Anthony knew the truth.

He watched the Senator make the customary jokes, a sure sign he was winding up his speech. He slowly walked toward the side of the room, angling his body so that he could get closer to Brad. His eyes darted to Peter and Samuel, two men he knew were hired to take out anyone that threatened their employer's life. He liked Peter, but Samuel. . .he had a special bullet for him too.

"A few more steps," he whispered, more to himself than anyone around him. He could still hear Rebecca's mother screaming through the phone as she begged and pleaded for Anthony to tell her where her daughter was. Anthony told her the truth. He had no clue where his girlfriend was. He refused to tell her of the video that showed her forced sexual exploit with Samuel and several other men. Then another call from Rebecca came and her voice was hoarse, broken and he knew without hearing the words, that Rebecca had been found. . .her life taken by her own hand, after what everyone assumed was a gang bang.

It was. . .but it was one brought on by the checkbook of Senator Brad Scholastic. He still couldn't believe the power behind the Senator. No one had been linked to the Rebecca's last hours, so Anthony assumed that once again Brad had used his influence and his money to buy his freedom as well as the others. Now, Anthony was here to deliver the justice that God didn't quite seem in a hurry to provide.

The sound of the audience cheering and clapping brought Anthony out of his torment. He pushed his hand into his pocket and gripped the cold weapon. He didn't shake, nor did he look as if he had any hate in his eyes. He simply looked as if he was accepting his fate. The weapon slipped easily from its cloth home and he aimed it at Brad's forehead. A scream filled the air and he laughed. He'd not even fired a shot and already they were screaming.

He watched blood splatter across the first row of supporters and he stared at his hand. He hadn't fired. Why was there blood? Another scream and he felt the weight of a man on his chest. The gun fell from his hand slid across the floor. He hadn't fired! He kept screaming the words in his head, yet they never fell from his lips as he was rolled to his back and his arms twisted, then secured in a pair of steel cuffs.

Peter heard the shot and reacted on instinct, pushing Brad over and covering him with his body. The hot crimson fluid covered his hand and face as he tried to protect his employer. He heard the screams and cursed, looking around for a way to get Brad out of the now panicking crowd. "Brad!" he shouted, then repeated the cry. He felt a steady spray of blood hit his face and he turned his head away. Rolling Brad over, he stared into the lifeless eyes. "Fuck," he muttered, pushing his fingers through his hair, it too covered in the bright fluid of life.

He wasn't sure how long it had taken for the crowds to quiet, most having moved out of the convention hall and into another room. He looked up and stared into his co-worker's eyes. Samuel lifted a brow and Peter shook his head "No." Peter than looked to the man that Samuel was hauling to his feet. He then saw another officer picking up a weapon that had been kicked about by various feet as people ran and screamed. "Anthony?" he whispered, then felt another squeezing his arm and pulling him from Brad's cooling body.

"He's gone," he told the man who was examining the Senator's body. Peter stepped back and watched them lift and place the Senator on a stretcher. He stared as they covered him with a black sheet and then made their way down the stage. Peter tried to understand what he was feeling. Peace? Justice? Regret? None of those words or emotions came to mind as he was approached by Secret Service and led into a small room, where he was questioned. He felt nothing as he answered what he could and passed on things he couldn't.

Samuel joined him, and he too went through the litany of questions. "Do you know that young man we have in custody?" one of the suits asked. Both guards nodded.

"He's a former intern," Samuel explained. "He was let go last week."

"Oh? Any particular reason. . .I mean an obvious one that would make him want to kill the Senator," another suit asked.

Peter shook his head. "He didn't shoot him. The bullet hit the back of his head and exited through the front. It's pretty obvious when you're up close to the wound's point of entry."

Samuel agreed. "The kid's weapon was cold. He pulled a gun, but he didn't fire it. I don't know who did that."

"We'll figure it out though. Let's talk about who would want him dead? Did he have any enemies, besides the opposing parties? Anyone hate him enough to want him dead?"

Both bodyguards wanted to laugh. The list was endless. Samuel knew of men and boys that would have loved to put a dozen or more bullets into Brad's body. Peter, himself would be a suspect if they found out about his blackmailing scheme. Anthony had motive, but he hadn't fired the weapon. "Nope," they answered simultaneously.

The older agent sighed and pushed through his hair. "Pete, you'll need to hand your clothes over to the lab. They'll want to reconstruct the crime scene and the pattern of the blood on your clothes will help. You got any spare clothes?"

"Yeah, I keep a bag of them in the car. Do you need me escorted out there? Or do you want me to just go grab it and change?"

"Eh, just go change. Meet me back here in an hour, shower up too. I trust ya, after all you tried didn't you."

Peter looked at the man. "I reacted on instinct. Looks like I failed." He rose and headed toward the door.

"But you tried, man. . ." the agent said as Peter walked out and shut the door behind him. Peter rushed to his car, grabbed the bag, and quickly changed. He then headed back to the room, where Samuel was finishing up a few more questions and handed his blooded suit to the officer in charge of collecting evidence.

"Need anything else?" he asked.

"Nah, we'll probably be talking to you more as the days follow, but for now, head on home and shower up."

Peter thanked him and left, his intention not on the shower, or his home. He had to make a quick trip to Brad's Washington office and find a certain manila envelope before someone else did.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mitch kissed Savannah; their tongues danced back and forth as he pulled her to him. "You have a safe trip home," he whispered against her lips, thankful the twins had gone home, leaving Savannah and him alone for a few hours.

"You too." She pulled away, turned to leave, pausing to pick up her phone that was suddenly vibrating.

"Hi Sam," she said, recognizing the number of her husband's bodyguard. She listened to his voice and the more he talked, the slower she moved. Mitch watched her, he knew what was coming, his own text message had arrived over an hour ago, while he was in the bathroom, washing off his cock. He walked up to Savannah and when she slipped toward the concrete floor of the parking lot, he was there to catch her.