Page 3 of Booked for Kidnapping

Most couldn’t manage to keep their disgust hidden.

As the man, likely some politician, expected me to give him the attention he was owed and deserved founded solely on his gender and position, I turned off my phone’s display, lifted my head, and met his gaze. “My name is Janette,” I informed him, and I matched his neutral tone. With luck, he would perceive my response as an utter lack of care or concern of who he was.

“The exsanguinator,” he pressed.

I shrugged, and as he couldn’t be bothered to be polite to me, I responded in kind, returning my attention back to my phone, turning on the display, and resuming my perusal of the media’s lackluster offerings.

“Janette Asurella, soon to be wed into the Hampton family,” a sickeningly familiar voice stated from behind me. “You’re picking a poor enemy for yourself, Senator Smithhall.”

A chill ran through me, and I understood how deer trapped in the beams of an oncoming car felt. Nothing in anything I had read about the memorial service had implied the President of the United States would be in attendance. In retrospect, I should have assumed he would show. After all, the woman had been assassinated during her campaign to take his place.

Somewhere, there had to be some sort of etiquette book dictating how President Castillo behaved when a notable politician died.

I regretted my lack of knowledge about the man. President Castillo did the necessary pandering to society, making addresses in his distinct baritone, and favored using his deepest tones when he spoke about something of import. He used that tone when he said, “You have done the United States a great service, Janette. While you were unable to save Senator Maybelle’s life, through no fault of your own, you have demonstrated to our country that there are adepts with strong morals and superior ethics. Most would not have done as you have done.”

How the hell had I gotten roped into talking to the President of the United States? When I escaped the memorial service, I would inform my friends and family they had been absolutely correct. I should have avoided the service with great enthusiasm rather than throw myself at it with reckless abandon. Once I admitted they’d been right, I would hide under a bed with my cat until I died of old age. Before I could turn my wheelchair or twist around to face the man, he came around, gestured with his head for the old, white idiot beside me to move over, and took the seat beside me.

I swallowed. “Mr. President.”

“Congratulations on your engagement are in order, although from my understanding of the situation, you have not yet made an official announcement?”

How the hell had President Castillo heard about my engagement? In an effort to hide my surprise, I smiled and bobbed my head. “The shooting delayed things, although we’re in the midst of scheduling the first party.”

Even Bradley had more enthusiasm for the party than I did. If given my way, the party would have been private, for two, and I’d encourage Bradley to take his shirt off. Even when he frustrated the hell out of me, he remained as handsome and desirable as always.

I was a fool, plain and simple.

“It’s a true pity about Samantha. She was one of the good ones. Dedicated to her causes, kind in her interactions with others, and a welcome voice in the senate she served so loyally.” President Castillo sighed, as though the weight of the world had fallen directly onto his shoulders.

Something nagged at me, nibbling away at me, although I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong about his statement. On the surface, all seemed well, but I feared I waded through a sea of lies, and I risked falling into some trap no matter where I stepped.

“She seemed like a kind woman dedicated to her causes,” I replied, and I turned my attention to the flowers surrounding the framed photograph of the fallen senator. “I can’t say I knew her well.”

“She struggled with connecting with her public, although she was making good efforts before her murder. Such a tragedy.”

On television, the President of the United States seemed like a charismatic enough fellow, but something about him set the little hairs on the back of my neck up on end, warning me of treacherous waters ahead. When I’d served as Bradley’s bodyguard rather than his future wife, I’d learned to be on guard during such times.

I could only assume the presence of nearby Secret Service agents scrutinizing me held the blame for my reaction. To keep calm and as in control of the situation as possible, I played the game, forcing myself to keep a solemn demeanor. After what I hoped appeared to be a moment of reflection, I replied, “Yes, her death was a tragedy. If it matters to you, she didn’t suffer.”

“Yes, it matters. You believe she didn’t suffer?”

“I know she didn’t. She died instantly. I hope that brings some comfort to her family.” Senator Maybelle’s life had purchased another victim a second chance, although I wouldn’t remind President Castillo of that unless he pressed the point. I regarded my foot with a sigh.

When I got home, I would have to address that problem in a better way than waiting for the ineffective antibiotics to do their job. I’d have to take off the bracelet controlling my magic and allowing my lungs to heal properly. If the miracles of medication couldn’t handle the healing work, my magic could.

A little rebellion would do me a world of good, as would a good night’s sleep for a change.

The President of the United States joined me in regarding my boot, and his expression implied interest. “The briefing mentioned you had been injured before the shooting.”

“Yes. Damage from a car accident. I was undergoing treatments.” If he wanted more information than that, he could go digging for it elsewhere.

“I had heard. Your fiancé had been in the car with you. He walked away with moderate injuries. The other individuals involved in the crash died. Would you be interested in helping to train members of the Secret Service in accident avoidance maneuvers? There are also a few exsanguinators in the Secret Service who could benefit from being tutored.”

I stared at President Castillo for a long moment before frowning and checking my phone for the careful schedule I’d made for myself, with all of my cell activities listed under generally harmless labels, including doctor’s appointments and physical therapy sessions. My actual work for the library remained intact, although my boss had made sure to give me the time needed to go to my actual doctor appointments and work on the murder cases without losing my job in the process. “It’s a possibility, assuming they come to New York. My shrink would love the accident avoidance learning, honestly.”

“Therapy for your crash?”

“Yes. Talking about it helps.”