Free Memorial Day by Vince Flynn Page A

three olives. Holmes thanked the man graciously and then raised his glass. Stealey followed suit. "To you and your continued success."
    "And to a successful national campaign this year," added Stealey.
    Holmes rolled his eyes and took a big gulp of the smooth Belvedere. This year was a presidential election. In addition to that, one third of the Senate was up for reelection, as well as the entire House of Representatives and a handful of key democratic governors. Fortunately, he had already hit all of their financial targets. Unfortunately, the Republicans had raised more money than they'd projected, so now he had to go back around and start asking the unions and the big hitters for further contributions.
    "Aren't things going as well as you'd like?" asked Stealey.
    Holmes took another sip of vodka and tried to think of the most positive way to put it. "Our opponents keep raising the bar on fund-raising but...that's not the problem."
    "What is?"
    Holmes looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "The party hacks are driving me nuts. They would rather sit around and piss and moan than go out and do something about it."
    With a knowing nod Stealey said, "They've never worked in the private sector."
    Holmes pointed at her and said, "Bingo. They have this trench warfare mentality, and they're deathly afraid of change or new ideas. All they want to do is kiss the unions' asses and beg me for more money."
    "Well, if it makes you feel any better, the other side is the same way. They've both been running off the same playbook for a hundred years."
    "Except we have more fun, right?" Holmes recited the party's line and held up his drink.
    Stealey laughed. "Correct."
    The wine steward approached the table with his extensive list, but before he could open it, Holmes stopped him. Looking at his guest he asked, "Are you going to stick with white or have some red?"
    "I'll drink red with my meal."
    "Good. George," he said to the wine steward, "You know what I like. Why don't you go ahead and select something on the lighter side." The man gave a half bow and retreated.
    When the two of them were alone, Holmes leaned in and asked, "Let's get business out of the way. Why did you suggest we have dinner tonight?"
    Stealey gave him a coy smile. "Do I have to have a reason to want to have dinner with a handsome, fabulously wealthy, powerful man?"
    Holmes's response was a mix of primal grunt and laughter. "Oh, Peggy, you know I'd screw your brains out in a New York minute, but we both also know you're a dick tease. So unless you've decided that tonight's the night we consummate this little friendship, let's just keep our attention above the table."
    "That won't be any fun." She gave him a pouty look.
    "Seriously, I can't afford another set of sore balls from all your games. I've got too much to do tomorrow."
    She reached out for his hand. "I've been very up front with you. Sleeping with men in this town can be very dangerous. Women's careers have a way of petering out, so to speak, right after the man has his last orgasm."
    Holmes squeezed her hand and then quickly let go. "That's fine. I'm not that hard up that I'm going to beg for it. Either we sleep with each other, or we don't, but no more jerking my chain."
    Stealey acted as if her next words were heartfelt, but they weren't. She'd used the same excuse hundreds of times to keep men at bay, but also keep them interested. "I'm very attracted to you, it's just that there's someone else right now, and it's kind of complicated."
    "Anyone I know?"
    "No. He doesn't travel in your circles."
    Holmes grinned. "One of those gun-toting G-men you've been working with?"
    "I would prefer not to talk about it."
    "That's fine." In truth, Holmes thought Stealey was a bit of a nutbag, but he was too far into this game to lose interest, even if he was trying to act like he didn't care. He'd sealed more business deals by getting up and walking away from the table than by any other tactic. Stealey would