The Untouchables (25 page)

“Good, then we can both go naked,” he whispered into my ear, as he gripped onto thighs and lifted me up with ease. “Now stop fighting me and scream my name.”

I was going to give in. I didn’t even want to fight him. Damn him.

“Ma’am, I was able—” Adriana froze mid step with a new dress in her hands.

Thank Jesus.

“Leave it, Adriana and go away,” Liam snapped, not bothering to look at her.

“No,” I said, doing my best to wiggle free of his hands. “I need to get ready. Go cool off on the balcony, I’ll be out in a moment.”

He stared at me for a few seconds. Rage, lust, and disappointment were all brewing in his eyes. Lowering me to the ground, he snapped towards Adriana who just waited, head held high and posture strong.

“Next time, knock,” he hissed at her before walking out.

“Don’t mind him, you have another dress?” I asked.

Nodding, she handed me the bag. “Yes, it’s floor length, capped sleeves and draped to keep your baby bump discrete.”

“I got it, you may go get ready,” I told her. It was simple enough and I wanted a moment to myself.

When she left, I hung the dress on the door, and I turned to the side to stare at my stomach again. It was only going to get larger, the kid was only going to get bigger.

Sighing, I went to get dressed, not really caring about my hair or makeup. I just wanted this over with so I could sleep. I was exhausted.

Stepping into my red heels, I took a deep breath, and cracked my neck before walking out. Liam stood, waiting on the balcony as I had asked, staring at the people in the gardens below. I could hear their cackling laughs, fake compliments and the snapping of cameras.

Placing my hand onto his back, I leaned on the rail next to him.

“They all love her.” He frowned, looking down at Mrs. Monroe as people gathered to shake her hand and take her photo as if she were already the president. “We need something, anything to knock her down or we will lose, and I can’t wait another four years.”

“When was the last time we lost anything, Liam?” I asked. He smirked, turning towards me. Taking a step back, he looked me over. “You’re beautiful.”

“I know. Now, let’s make nice with the government before they try to pin us for tax evasion.”

He laughed, kissing the back of my hand. “I’d like to see them try.”

TWENTY-TWO

“Political language…is designed to make lies sound truthful, murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.”

—George Orwell

MELODY

“It’s as if time had stopped. The earth underneath my feet opened, and the devil himself reached up and pulled me into hell. I screamed, trying to reach for my husband in the midst of the chaos. I wanted to die, because I knew in my heart of hearts that he was gone. There was no undoing what I had seen—what
America
had seen! Only moments earlier, we sat in the back of the limo and my husband, President Franklin Monroe, told me how humbled he was to be a servant of this government, of you, the people. He told me his dreams for this country. Being from Texas, where everything is big, his dreams were even bigger. That is why I cannot stop to cry, to mourn, because all I can do is try to honor his dream until my last breath leaves my body.”

One by one I watched as the people around us stood, some with tears glistening in their eyes, others ready to go to war for this woman. They were applauding, celebrating. I didn’t want to stand, I didn’t want to clap, all I wanted to do was take a steel bat to each one of their faces.

“Smile and stand up, sweetie. Cameras are flashing,” my husband whispered, as he pulled me up. He was just as tense as I was.

“How can anyone take this woman seriously? Her hair is in the shape of a beehive,” I muttered over to him.

“Her husband was the “people’s leader.” So now, she’s the people’s widow, beehive or not. Clap.”

Clapping in suppressed anger, I watched the brunette on stage smile and wave at her adoring audience.

We were losing. No amount of money could win the love of the people. And every time the bitch spoke, they loved her even more. She ate it up and kept speaking. She was only supposed to give a quick speech about this event, but now I felt like we were at a campaign rally.

“I would like to thank Senator Colemen,” she added. For the first time, the man who we wanted to be president was actually focused on. “Many of you don’t know this, but Senator Colemen and my husband were college roommates and good friends. When he found out Colemen was going to be running against him, he turned to me and said, ‘He’d better still come over for Christmas when he loses.’ I hope you still do, even now.”

“Always!” Senator Colemen laughed, rising to take his spot on the podium. “Thank you so much, Madam First Lady.”

“I hate it when they’re humble.” Liam sighed, returning to his seat along with most of the guests.

I followed suit.

Olivia looked over the sea of tables quickly. “Where’s Neal?”

“Hopefully fixing this shit,” Declan whispered, sipping his brandy as Coraline fought her hardest not to fall asleep. She looked worn out. I wasn’t sure why; she hadn’t done anything.

“Has Neal told any of you how he plans on fixing this?” Evelyn asked, flipping her white silk shawl over her shoulders.

“No,” Olivia hissed. “All I know is her highness here told him to shoot my father.”

With the exception of Liam and Sedric, everyone’s eyes snapped to me. As if this was so surprising.

“I’m all for it.” Mrs. Colemen giggled, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“Mother!” Olivia sneered, grabbing her hand. “You’ve had enough and we cannot seriously be talking about killing my father right now.”

Raising her head off Declan’s shoulders, Coraline looked around as well. “Neal wouldn’t…would he?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time one of us killed our wife’s father,” Sedric whispered behind his glass. To which Evelyn simply diverted her stare to Senator Colemen as he spoke. Sadly, she was the only one really giving him the time of day.

Slamming her fist onto the table, Olivia moved to the edge of her chair. “My father has done everything you people have asked. He is a human being, not a pawn in your games.”

“Sweetheart, relax, people are watching, besides it’s not like he’s been the best father in the world.” Mrs. Colemen laughed before drinking again.

“No!” she snapped. “He’s my father. Tell Neal to find another way, because if my father dies, it will be on your hands, Melody Giovanni. He is my family, and if you fuck with my family, you fuck with me, bitch.”

“Baby,” Declan whispered. “Let’s go… somewhere else.” He tried to pull Coraline away from the table.

“No way in hell. This just got interesting,” she whispered back.

Taking a deep breath, I folded my hands on the table and sat up. “Olivia Colemen, I’ve been fucking with you the minute I stepped into this house.” I shook my head slowly, as if I were truly baffled. “You mistakenly think I give shit about how you feel or what you think. It’s as if you really, truly, deep in your heart, think I’d give a fuck if you died. A bullet could go through your brain right now and I wouldn’t even blink. However…”

Picking my foot up, I stuck my spiked heel into her leg. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make her gasp out in pain.

I leveled her with a stoic stare, speaking as eerily calm as I could, just enough to be heard. “If you ever threaten me again, the only thing that will be hanging is your body from my bathroom window.” Digging my heel in harder, she cried out. “So shut up, listen to your mother, and thank God you’re
family
. Because if you weren’t, I’d have killed you the first time you opened that augmented mouth of yours.”

Dropping my foot, I clapped as Senator Colemen wrapped up his speech. Mrs. Colemen stood, welcoming her husband into her arms for the cameras. We all stood for the photo, smiling like the Brady Bunch on crack.

“What were you all talking about?” Senator Colemen asked, glancing around the table, perhaps sensing the dissipating tension.

“The baby moved again, and my mother almost knocked over the table to feel,” Liam lied with ease.

He smiled. “I can only imagine. Kids are great, but I can’t wait for the grandkids.”

“Yes, please excuse me,” I told him, rising from my seat.

Liam stood, making room for me. “Where’re you going?”

“Bathroom,
Dad
. I’ll be right back.” He was so damn overprotective.

Kissing my cheek, he leaned and whispered into my ear, “You’re sexy when you’re mean.”

“I’m always sexy,” I whispered back.

He grinned. “You’re always mean.”

Shaking my head, I pulled away.

It was interesting to be around so many political figureheads at once. They all seemed to have come not for the good cause, but in hopes of being lobbyists. Each one trying to explain why they needed funding for whatever side of bullshit they were on this week. Why the next president needed to worry about
this
or how America was falling behind on
that
. They all looked so clean in their white, yet they were all dirty.

Walking into the foyer of the house, I couldn’t help but wonder: if they were the keepers of the law, the people we elected to keep justice, how anyone could be surprised by the type of people
we
were. We were the ‘good’ criminals. We took only what was ours, sold to only those who wanted, and killed those deserving…for the most part. We even gave back to our community ten times as much as they did.

As I turned the corner, I watched the First Lady enter the study—mine and Liam’s— pulling a woman behind her in haste.

Lesbian affair?
I thought, trying my best not to smile.
So soon after her husband’s murder?
If something like that leaked to the media, I could knock her straight to the hell she supposedly experienced the day of her husband’s demise.

I walked over to
the wall
, as we liked to call it—the wall I had shot through only a year ago and destroyed Evelyn’s Pollock. She hadn’t been able to find another painting to cover it, so instead she had an indoor wall fountain installed. To get to the room behind it was as simple as pushing in a loose tile.

“What the hell is going on here?” I asked, causing Adriana to jump out of Antonio’s arms.

Antonio stood straighter. “Neal told me watch the cameras, ma’am.”

“Ma’am…” Adriana started.

“Both of you out, now.”

I blinked as they both rushed by. Pulling up the study camera, I saw the First Lady clearly. However, the woman she was with cared more about our books, her features were obstructed due to the camera’s angle. One thing was disappointingly clear: I was mistaken, that woman was not her lover. The First Lady looked terrified, shaken, as if she were standing in front the devil herself.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she snapped feebly.

“Why?” the woman asked, pulling out a book. “I paid a whole lot of money for that plate of fish.”

The moment her lilting voice reached my ears, my heart began to race; I felt suffocated, I could hardly breathe. The healed bullet wound in my shoulder burned in recognition of her, Aviela—my mother’s voice. She stood there in her white suit and even whiter shoes while flipping through the pages of my book with her deceivingly pure white gloves.

“You know why!” The First Lady desperately wailed. “Someone could see us together and know—”

“And know what?” Aviela asked. “That you hired me to shoot your husband, their beloved President, between the eyes?”

Oh shit.

I wanted to go but my hand went to my stomach. So instead I reached for the phone.

“Callahan,” Liam answered monotonically.

“Get to the study now. Aviela’s there,” I told him before hanging up.

The First Lady grabbed the book from her hands, throwing it across the room. “That’s not what happened! I never asked you to kill him. He was going to leave me, he promised to help my political career! I asked you to help me secure my future!”

Grabbing a hold of her neck, Aviela pulled her face closer. “And here we are. You’re running, some may even go as far as to say you’ve already won the race for leader of the free world. That’s a pretty secured future in my eyes. Now, pick up that book before I snap your pathetic neck and find a new puppet.”

She threw her on to ground as if she were trash.

Gasping for air with her hands around her neck, the most
powerful
woman in the world crawled to the fallen book, and lifted it up above her head. Walking over, Aviela took it before taking a seat in my chair. She adjusted the scattered papers as if she couldn’t help herself.

Even though it was less than a few minutes since I placed the call, I couldn’t help but wonder what was taking Liam so long.

“What do you want from me?” the First Lady sobbed, not bothering to pick herself up. She continued to babble weakly in defeat, it was a stark difference from the woman who’d stood at the podium less than a half an hour ago. “You have no idea what you’ve done. What
we’ve
done. I can’t do this, they’re going to find out—”

“Oh shut up and take a Xanax. You’ve been doing great, the people love you and that big hair of yours.” Aviela grinned, kicking her feet up.

The moment Aviela spoke of her hair, she sat up, wiping her face and smoothing back the stray stands.

“See? Looking more presidential already.”

“When I win this election, I don’t want you coming around. So how much will it cost for you to disappear?” she asked resolutely, brushing her dress off, seemingly trying to regain some of her decorum.

Aviela smirked, standing up. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“Win and make sure the Callahan’s never get into the White House. That is how you pay me,” she told her before walking out of the room.

“No. No. No,” I hissed, trying to see where she went. Apparently, the bitch had taken down most of our old cameras. If it weren’t for the new ones Neal had installed, we wouldn’t have even caught her in the study.