Free Moonrise by Anne Stuart Page A

more pleasant battles to be won. He had his future all nicely mapped out for himself. He’d start small—secretary of defense maybe. He knew how to twist arms, how to grease palms—he was a consummate politician as well as tactician, and he’d been working on his public image all his life. It was time for it to pay off. His lucrative sideline had gone bust—he was a smart man and he knew when it was time to cut his losses. There was the future to look forward to. He wouldn’t settle for less than complete power. Preferably chief of staff. Or maybe the lesser job of president.
    But he wasn’t getting anywhere near the White House with a loose cannon like McKinley waiting to go off. He had to make sure there were no skeletons rattling in his closet.And McKinley’s bones were already making a hell of a racket.
    “All right, son,” he said heavily. “I’ll take it from here.”
    The yuppie scum in his damned Italian suit and too long hair looked surprised. “Sir?”
    He wouldn’t have lasted a week in the old army. Of course, with the new one, chock-a-block full of women and faggots, he’d probably fit right in.
    “I’ve got alternatives. You’ve failed, son. Time to let an old soldier take over.”
    He didn’t like that, the General thought with cool amusement. But he knew there wasn’t a blessed thing he could do about it. There were times, he thought, when life could still be sweet. And squashing an Ivy League dickhead was one of those moments.
    “I’ll have McKinley and the girl taken care of. Don’t you worry your head about it,” he added grandly. “You can stop wringing your hands.”
    “Sir?”
    “Yes, son?”
    “I wouldn’t underestimate McKinley if I were you. They don’t call him Dr. Death for nothing.”
    The General frowned. The boy didn’t stay squashed for long. “I think you can count on me to handle him. I have resources unconnectedto your little operation. McKinley won’t be expecting it. As soon as I find out where he is, I’ll have him and the girl taken out.”
    “If you say so, sir.”
    “You sound doubtful, son. Would you care to place a little bet?”
    The man grimaced. “No, thank you, sir.”
    “Think it’s in bad taste, do you, boy?”
    “No, sir. I just don’t make bets that I think I might lose.”
    The General leaned back, suddenly more in charity with the world. “You’re a smart man. I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “I’d appreciate that, sir.”
    Dickhead, the General thought genially as the door closed behind him. But a damned clever one at that.
    He moved her through customs swiftly, and she stumbled after him, temporarily obedient, unable or unwilling to ask any more questions, put up any more arguments. He expected that if it had been up to her, she would have stayed asleep the moment the plane landed and let him cart her around over his shoulder.
    But he would have put his hands on her, and that might have been a very big mistake for both of them. She was exhausted and not quite sober, and while he shared the first condition,he would have given anything to share the second.
    Clancy was waiting for them at the prearranged spot, and the moment he caught sight of McKinley he started toward the exit, secure in the knowledge that they’d follow at a discreet distance. Annie didn’t murmur more than a token protest when he put her in the backseat of an aging Toyota and then closed the door after her, taking the front seat beside Clancy. He could feel her glaring at the back of his head as they pulled into the pre-dawn traffic, and he glanced at her. “Go to sleep, Annie. Everything’s under control.”
    She didn’t say a word. She simply lay back and closed her eyes, but McKinley wasn’t fooled. He had no doubt she would listen to every word they said.
    Clancy kept his gaze glued to the road. “Who is she?”
    McKinley considered his various answers. He was tired himself, and the memory of the brief, efficient blood bath that morning still lingered