The Missing President: A Damon Corso Thriller by Maxwell Blake

Author:Maxwell Blake [Blake, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“What do you want, Selina?” Damon barked gruffly into the phone.

For a few awkward moments, Selina was quiet on the other end. She was probably too fucking shocked that he’d answered to say a word. Damon never, never entertained her late night calls—and it had been going on for years.

“Damon?”

“You know it’s me,” he said antagonistically.

“It’s just . . . so good to hear your voice,” she cooed in a seductively feminine voice. “You sound so . . . close, yet so . . . far away.”

“What do you want?” he asked more firmly.

“Well, hello to you too.” She chuckled deviously. “It’s nice to hear from you after all this time.”

“Selina . . .” Damon was too damn tired for this tonight, of all nights. “I’ve had a long day. Just get to the point.”

“I need you—”

“You are married to someone else,” he reminded her.

Whether her husband was missing or not, it was the damn truth.

“Let me finish,” she cut in, matching his brashness.

She was getting impatient.

Good.

Let her get flustered. Damon didn’t give a shit about tiptoeing around her feelings anymore. Their ship had sailed off into the sunset a long time ago, and there was no new dawn on the horizon.

“I need you to come to the White House,” she said.

“Selina, I’m not going to do that. The only reason I answered your call in the first place was out of concern for your husband, the President of the United States. I don’t answer your late-night pleas for sex.”

Selina scoffed as if she were profoundly offended by Damon’s reckless assumption of her motives. “How dare you talk to me like that?”

Damon rolled his eyes and limply lay down on his couch. “What do you want?” He was running in circles with her and not amused by her games.

“I need you to come to the White House,” she said a second time.

“I already told you, that’s not going to happen, Selina. Your husband is missing, and you can spare me the manipulation tactics. They don’t work anymore, not on me. Go find some other poor sap to get off with.”

Damon was getting ready to hang up when Selina’s voice became harsh and diabolically shrill.

“I’m calling a car for you, anyway,” she exclaimed.

“Selina—” Damon sighed.

It wasn’t up for debate. If the Secret Service agents told him to get in the car, he’d better get in the fucking car. She won this round. It was his own fault for responding to her call in the first place. He had set himself up for failure as soon as he swiped the Answer button.

“I’ll be waiting on you,” she said smugly, making his blood boil.

“Fine.” He clenched his jaw so tightly that it began to ache in pain.

The damn woman always got her way, no matter what. One thing was certain. Damon wouldn’t fuck her. Not anymore. He had principles to value and uphold. He wouldn’t crack, no matter how much she begged him.

Damon sat on the porch and waited for the agents to arrive.

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