Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Later that
night, Colt called his parents on Skype to tell them the good news and they got
a good look at Casey for the first time. Phil and Susie Sheridan were thrilled
to meet their future daughter in law and thrilled beyond words about the new
baby. Finally, their oldest son, the over-achiever in every sense of the
word, was finding peace with himself and with what seemed to be a very good
woman. He was getting married and having children. They couldn’t have been
happier.
When they
went to bed that night, Colt held Casey in his arms, listening to her gentle
breathing and watching the snow as it continued to fall outside the window.
He couldn’t put the moment into words, never knowing it was possible to love
something as much as he loved her. When she shifted in her sleep, he put his
big hand on her naked belly, imagining the son she would bear with her
beautiful soul and his good looks. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
When he
finally fell asleep, it was with happy dreams of the future.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Casey was
looking a little pale. Colt could see her from his office as she moved more
slowly than usual. She was filing and he could watch her discreetly from his
position in front of his computer, his gaze moving up her luscious body,
thinking of all of the wicked things he would do to her once they were alone
that night. But the more prevalent thought was of the baby she carried and how
she hadn’t been feeling so well the past several days. Even as Colt prepared
to escort the President to a local middle school for the event of President’s
Day, he found his focus heavily on Casey. He was worried about her. He’d
never been around a pregnant woman in his life, so this was all new territory
for him.
Nine
o’clock in the morning rolled around and the President and his aides were
meeting with the door to the Oval Office open. There was a lively conversation
going on inside. It was coming time to leave for the school, however, so Colt
stood up from his desk, collected his radio and notified his detail, and moved
out of his office. Chris Eckart was on the phone, as usual, not paying any
attention to those around him as Colt went to Casey’s desk and quietly thumped
on it a couple of times. She turned around from her files, smiling wanly when
she saw him.
His
expression was gentle. “I’ll be with the President until early afternoon,” he
said softly. “Will you be okay?”
She
nodded. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t
say anymore, although he wanted to. He winked at her and went to go stand
outside of Russ’s office, waiting for the man to finish with his aides. Peter
and Steven Case joined him a few minutes later, as did a couple of other
special agents, and they all stood outside of Russ’ office, waiting for him to
finish with his aides. Casey wasn’t paying much attention to them, with a
headache and nausea, so she put her filing aside for the moment because she
really needed to sit down. She was looking forward to Russ leaving so she
could have a few quiet hours with him gone.
As she
collected her herbal tea and took a few timid sips, the President finally
emerged from his office and passed in front her desk with his brigade of Secret
Service agents, Colt included. There were four aides trailing after him as well.
Casey looked up from her tea as Russ paused by her desk.
“Come
along with me, Casey,” he told her. “We can do some work in the car on the way
over.”
Grossly
disappointed that she was being called into service, Casey dutifully picked up
her leather folio with the notepad and pens inside, her Ipad, grabbed her
purse, and trailed after the President and his aides. By the time she hit the
entrance to the West Wing, she felt like she was going to vomit.
The Secret
Service had cleared up the West Wing driveway area and only the Presidential
limo and six big, black Chevrolet Suburbans for the Secret Service were parked
in the drive. As the aides disbursed and the Secret Service agents began to
filter towards various vehicles, Casey followed the President to the
limousine. She glanced up at Colt as the man opened the door for the President
and his Chief of Staff. As Casey wait for the men to climb in and get
comfortable, Colt caught her attention.
“Are you
going to make it?” he whispered.
She gave
him a weak smile. “Do I look that bad?”
“You look
beautiful,” he murmured. “But I can see you don’t feel well.”
She rolled
her eyes as she moved to get into the car. “I feel like shit.”
He fought
off a grin as she climbed into the car and he closed the door behind her.
Engaging his radio, he gave the word to the detail and the black cars with
their black windows and state-of-the-art weaponry began to move out.
Casey was
sitting with her back to the front passenger seat, trying not to get sick as
the car pulled out onto Pennsylvania Avenue. It was increasingly difficult,
however, and she finally put her hand to her mouth to hold back the gas and
rolling nausea. Russ was chatting with his Chief of Staff, finally turning to
Casey and noticing the woman was extremely pale. She also had her hand over
her mouth. He leaned forward and peered more closely at her.
“Casey?”
he asked. “Are you all right?”
Startled
that the attention was on her, Casey looked at the President and tried to
toughen up but she couldn’t seem to manage it.
“I… I’ll
be okay,” she said.
“You don’t
look okay.”
“I think I
must have the flu or something.”
Russ was
genuinely concerned. “Why didn’t you say something?” he demanded without force.
“We’ll take you back to the White House and I want you to go home.”
She shook
her head. “No, really,” she said weakly, trying to change the subject. “I’ll be
okay. What did you want to work on?”
The
President hit the intercom to the front seat. “Sheridan?” he said. “Did you
know that Casey was sick?”
Colt,
sitting in the front passenger seat in his dark suit and dark glasses, turned
around to look through the glass compartment divider as he answered.
“Yes sir,
I did,” he replied.
Russ was
outraged. “And you let her come to work?”
They could
hear him sigh. “She seems to think she can work through it, sir.”
“Ridiculous,”
Russ snapped. “She needs to go home. Turn around; we’re taking her back to the
White House.”
Colt was
looking at the back of Casey’s head because of where she was sitting. “Casey,
do you want to go home?”
She lifted
her shoulders reluctantly; she hated to admit defeat. “I’m thinking about it.”
That
prompted Colt to get on the radio. Russ looked confused as to what the man was
doing until, less than a minute later, Colt got back on the intercom.
“At the
next stoplight, Harrios is going to come forward in the chase car and take her
back,” he said.
Satisfied,
Russ sat back and continued his conversation with this Chief of Staff while
Casey struggled not to become ill. She was horrified at the thought of puking
in the Presidential limousine. They’d never stop teasing her about that. When
the convoy came to a halt at the next stoplight, Colt bailed out of the front
seat and opened up the back door. As Casey climbed out, she noticed he was
carrying a nasty-looking short-barrel AK-47 in his left hand while opening the
door with his right. As she looked up at him, a black Dodge Charger roared up
and screeched to a halt.
“Peter
will take you back,” he told her softly. “I’ll call you later. Love you.”
She smiled
weakly at him because it was all she could muster and got into the car with
Peter. The car sat and idled as the light turned green and the Presidential
procession took off again. Then Peter hung a right and headed towards the
river. Casey couldn’t even think of being disappointed that she wouldn’t be
where Colt was that morning; she was thinking about her lurching stomach. As
they made the turn east to head down Independence Avenue, she turned to Peter.
“Colt
drove me to work this morning,” she said. “Can you just take me home?”
Peter was
focused on the road ahead. “Where do you live?”
“Falls
Church.”
“We’ll
head that way. Do you want to stop and get something to make you feel better?”
She sighed
faintly. “I’d love something to drink.”
Peter
didn’t say anymore. He continued along until they found a liquor store and
then he pulled into the parking lot. Casey climbed out of the car, wearily,
and went inside. When she emerged a few minutes later, she had a small brown
bag in her hand. She climbed back in the car, put her seatbelt on, and Peter
pulled back out onto the street and continued east.
As Peter
took the onramp to the Custis Memorial Parkway, he saw that she was crunching
heavily on something. He glanced over at her.
“What are
you eating?” he asked. “It sounds like rocks.”
Casey
looked over at him, her mouth full. “Pork rinds,” she said. “They’re really
salty and that’s about all I feel like eating.”
“Oh,”
Peter focused forward. “What else do you have in that bag?”
Casey
opened up the bag and looked inside. “Peanuts, a big dill pickle, bologna, and
chocolate milk.”
“
What?
”
he looked at her, making a face. “What in the hell are you eating?”
He was
half-grinning and she started laughing. “Whatever I feel like,” she said.
He made
another face and looked back at the road. “That’s really disgusting. That’s
just going to make you sicker.”
Casey
crunched on her pork rinds, watching him drive. She knew Colt trusted the man
so she didn’t feel too strange sharing their news with him. Besides, he would
probably figure it out eventually.
“Not
really,” she said softly. “It’s kind of like pickles and ice cream. Pregnant
women eat weird stuff. You just never know what’s going to settle your
stomach.”
Peter’s
eyes widened and he glanced at her again. “Oh, my God,” he hissed. “You’re
pregnant?”
“Yes.”
His jaw
popped open. “Colt...?
She
laughed. “I hope he’s the father. Either that, or there’s something the water
around my house.”
Peter’s
open mouth turned into a laughing one. “Seriously?” he said. “Congratulations.
That’s really great news. Does the President know?”
“No,” she
shook her head. “Not yet. I didn’t want to throw that on him just yet but if I
keep feeling like this, I’m going to have to. I’ll be sitting at my desk
eating pork rinds, peanuts, bacon and chocolate milk, and he’s going to wonder
what in the hell is the matter with me.”
Peter was
snorting. “No joke,” he agreed. “How does Colt feel about this?”
She smiled
at him. “He’s thrilled,” she said sincerely. “He’s over the moon about it.
He’s already picked out names.”
Peter
laughed. “You don’t have a choice, Casey,” he said. “If it’s a boy, it has to
be Phil Sheridan the –what is it? – the twenty-fifth or something like that?”
She nodded
with resignation. “I know,” she said. “If it’s a girl, he wants to name her
Addy, after his grandmother, Adelaide. He’s already made these decisions, like
I have no say in the matter.”
Peter just
grinned, knowing that was more than likely true. Colt Sheridan was a
take-charge kind of guy.
“Then it’s
your fault for hooking up with him,” he said.
She
nodded, a smile on her lips. “I know. But I kind of like him, so that’s okay.”
“So… when
are you two getting married?”
“Soon.
Maybe Valentine’s Day. It’s only a month off.”
“You’d
better plan ahead if you’re going to do it then.”
“I realize
that. We talk about it all the time but I can’t make up my mind where I want
to get married.”
“Hasn’t he
decided that, too?”
She
laughed and shook her head. “I won’t let him. I told him this is one decision
I’m going to make on my own.”
Peter’s
smile faded as they continued along the expressway. He was thinking of the
perfection of the moment, of the prime situation he had found himself in. He’d
thought of it the moment she got into the car. Meade had told him he needed to
get a hold of Casey. Now had her where he wanted her, like some crazy stroke
of luck. He picked up his cell phone as they drove along, dialed, and put it
to his ear.