THE PRESIDENT 2 (29 page)

He said this and then headed into the office of the First Lady.
 
And it was Max’s time to say amen.

Dutch’s first impression of Roman Wilkes, seeing him sitting there on that couch next to his wife, was how powerfully built he appeared in person.
 
On television he had a command presence about him, but nothing like this.
 
Roman Wilkes had the look of a man who could have anything, and any woman he wanted.
 
And one of his primary wants, it seemed to Dutch, appeared to be Regina.
 

That was Dutch’s initial impression anyway when he and Max walked into his wife’s office and saw the two of them sitting there.
 
Before them were stacks of papers and file folders, but the man’s big, bright eyes seemed to be focused rather exclusively on Gina.
 

When Roman saw who had entered the room, however, he quickly diverted his now lust-filled eyes, and stood to his feet.
 
“Mr. President,” he said, extending his hand.
 
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“The honor is all mine,” Dutch said, shaking his hand.
 
“This is Maxwell Brennan, my chief of staff.”

“Yes, of course,” Roman said, shaking Max’s hand.
 
“Mr. Brennan.”

“Have a seat, please,” Dutch insisted and Roman sat back down.
 
“I understand my wife has sought your legal expertise.”

“Yes, sir, and on a dogged case I must say.”

“Hello honey,” Dutch said, as he leaned over and kissed Gina on the lips.
 
She had spent the night away from him, and he missed her dearly.
 
Tonight, when he had her in his bed, he was going to show her just how much.
 
He took a seat in the chair flanking the couch.
 
Max stood beside his chair.
 
“What’s the verdict?”

Gina looked at Roman.
 
“What’s the verdict, Wilkie?” she asked her friend.

“If I had to render it based on what I’ve uncovered,” Roman said, “I would say one hundred percent not guilty.”

This astonished Dutch.
 
Roman was known as a lot of things, a ladies man topping the list, but he was also known as an excellent attorney.
 
His conclusions carried weight.
 
“Are you saying,” Dutch said, attempting to not even think about the implications, “that our criminal justice system got it wrong?
 
That we imprisoned an innocent man?”

“Hardly,” Max, the forever skeptic, said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dismiss it at all, Mr. Brennan,” Roman said.
 
“I would bet my practice that Marcus Rance did not commit those murders.
 
Everything that was used against him at his trial can be disproved.
 
From the fact that he did, in fact, report his car stolen some weeks before that drive by shooting, to the fact that he did clock-in at work, he did have the company truck, and he was on time with all of his deliveries that day.
  
His partner on the delivery truck testified that he was working with him that day, and is willing to testify to that fact again.”

“But he already testified to that fact, right?” Max said.
 
“Which means the jury didn’t believe his testimony.”

“Because he was a convicted felon, yes, sir.”

“That’s not the reason.
 
Why would you say that’s the reason?”

“Because it happens,” Roman said, staring at Max.
 
“You do know that.
 
Right?”

Max was offended, both Dutch and Gina could tell.
 
“The point is,” Max said, “what do you propose that we do with this new twist on that old evidence?”

Roman glanced at Gina, as if he couldn’t believe this guy.
 
“I will have to make this old evidence appear as shiny brand new as humanly possible, first of all, to even file a subsequent petition for a writ of habeas corpus.
 
Or, I will have to try to petition the court under the Brady exception, which means I would have to prove that the prosecution knew some relevant information, such as the fact that he did indeed report his car as stolen but they suppressed that information at trial.
 
Short of those two limited exceptions, we have nothing the courts will hear.
 
Especially those courts in Texas.
 
But once we get it all in a neat little package, and because it’s Texas we’d better put a bow on top, then we’ll enter a motion to vacate, or to set aside the judgment.”

“Are you kidding me?”
 
Max asked.
 
“This isn’t some social club you’re sitting in.
 
This is the White House.
 
This is Dutch Harber’s presidency, his legacy.
 
We can’t tarnish it with some rehashed, so-called new evidence that exonerates his brother-in-law.
 
The public will go ballistic if that happens.
 
They already believe that commutation of his death sentence was favoritism.
 
This would be a whole other ballgame.”

“I understand that,” Roman said.

“Well I’m thrilled you understand it, Mr. Wilkes, because we can’t have that.”

“You can’t have it?
 
But, Mr. Brennan, I don’t think
you
understand.
 
We’re talking about a man’s life here.”

When Max still seemed stuck on stupid, as Roman thought of him, he and Gina looked to Dutch. Dutch stood to his feet, causing Roman to stand, too.
 
Dutch placed both hands in his pant pockets.
 
“Do whatever you need to do to uncover the truth,” he said to Roman.
 
“Consider yourself retained by me.”

“Dutch!” Max decried.

Dutch frowned and looked at him.
 
“What?”

“Are you. . .,” Max started, remembered who he was talking to, and tried to calm back down.
 
“Sir, you can’t be a part of this.
 
You have to think about the mid-terms.
 
You won’t be running, but what about the rest of us?”

Gina looked up at Max.
 
Dutch was already staring at him.
 
“What about the rest of whom, Max?
 
Who are us?”

Max glanced over and Roman and Gina.
 
“May we talk about this privately, sir?”

“Are you considering public office, Max?”

Max hesitated.
 
“I’ve considered it, yes.”

“Which office?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He was lying, and Dutch knew it.
 
Why he was lying, however, was probably the bigger story.
 
Sometimes Dutch wondered if there was any human being on the face of this earth, besides his wife, that he could truly trust.
 
He looked at Roman.
 
“I pray I never become the kind of human being who will allow an innocent man to rot in prison because it may not look good politically for me.
 
As I stated earlier, consider yourself retained. By me.”

Roman extended his hand.
 
“I know the political costs for you, sir.
 
I assure you I’ll handle it with the utmost discretion.
 
Thank-you.”

“And take advice from the First Lady,” Dutch added as he shook Roman’s hand, although he wasn’t at all sure that he wanted this good looking fellow to spend another second with his wife.
 
“She’s an excellent attorney in her own right.”
 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, sir,” Roman said, smiling down at Gina.
 
“I plan to use the mess out of her.”

That line didn’t particularly sit well with Dutch, as Gina grinned at her old friend and, Dutch thought, her old lover, but he had a meeting to get to.
 
He and Max left, with Max saying nothing more about his own political ambitions.

***

That night in bed, Gina lay naked on her stomach while her husband’s big bulk lay on top of her, his penis deep inside of her, moving in a slow motion, sensual rhythm, as Dutch was determined to remove all thoughts of Roman Wilkes from her mind.
 
He never told her that was his intention, but as he made love to her, they both knew that was exactly what was going on.

Gina closed her eyes as her body heated feverishly to that wonderfully relaxing feel of his entrance.
 
His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them every time he swiped her g-spot, making her groan with wonderment at how he could be so certain of his target and hit it over and over again.
 
And he kept swiping her, at just the right angle, in just the right spot, as he slid in a sweet drag that rubbed her walls to a wet sensual high that she never wanted to end.
 
She knew the man was tired, she knew it had been yet another long behind day, but she wanted him to keep fucking her exactly the way he was doing it.
 
Rubbing her walls, hitting her spot, saturating her with his wet, perfect, harmonious love.

Dutch closed his eyes as he fucked her, as he felt the harmony too.
 
His hardened thighs rubbed against her tight ass as his penis stayed lodged inside of her and danced an enormously gratifying slow drag with her g-spot.
 
He kept thrusting against her walls, moving deeper and deeper inside of her, hearing the slapping sounds of his penis sloshing around her wetness until it engorged and his entire body tightened, stiffened, and then released its own juices.
 
A release that caused Gina to cry out, as she reached the summit too.

Afterwards, as they lay in each other’s arms, both gratified in knowing that nobody was going to take away their love, Gina looked at Dutch.

“Heard from your mother?”

“I have not.”

“So Caroline made her little move while the cat was away.”

Dutch snorted.
 
“She certainly tried to.”

“Egged-on by your mother, no doubt.”

“Of course.
 
When I was engaged to Caroline, she could hardly stand her.
 
Now they’re best friends?
 
I don’t believe it.”
 
Then he pulled Gina in his arms, his eyes once again showing sensuality and staring at her lips.
 
“But the good news,” he said, “is that they have gone back to their bat caves and will leave us alone.”

“Yes,” Gina said, as they kissed on the lips.
 
They were gone all right, she thought as he moved her on top of him, still kissing her, but she had an awfully hard time believing that they had gone in peace, never to be heard from again.