![]() ![]() He could almost see her, almost hear her Boston Brahman accent. ![]() The lively conversation around him faded. The feeling wasn’t as vicious as it had once been, but was still ferocious enough to carve up his insides. The child he and Catherine had tried so hard to have. She was pregnant with his child, dammit! The child he was determined would carry his name. Yet he couldn’t remember any issue, any recalcitrant bureaucrat or political pundit, who frustrated him as much as Gina St. Stress rode on his shoulders like hundred-pound weights. His job demanded long days and long nights. Recently he’d returned to State Department headquarters in Washington, D.C., to translate his hard-won field knowledge into policies and procedures that would improve the security of U.S. As such, he’d traveled to some of the most volatile, violent trouble spots in the world. He himself had served in several diplomatic posts before being appointed the State Department’s ambassador-at-large for counterterrorism at the ripe old age of thirty-two. Jack’s father and grandfather had served as advisors to presidents in times of national crisis. He came from a long line of coolheaded, clear-thinking Virginians who believed their vast wealth brought with it equally great responsibility. Pretty much his exact opposite, Jack thought grimly as he tracked her progress across the crowded room. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |