Dirty Work

  Dirty Work

  Chelle Bliss

  Brenda Rothert

  Contents

  Dirty Work

  Dirty Work Copyright © 2016

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dirty Work Copyright © 2016

  CHELLE BLISS & BRENDA ROTHERT

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Publisher © HEA Inc. July 26th 2016

  Edited by Lisa A. Hollett

  Copy Edited by Taylor Bellitto

  Proofread by Rosa Sharon & Kayla Kennedy

  Cover Design © Sara Eirew

  Formatted by Chelle Bliss

  Cover Photo © Sara Eirew

  ISBN: 978-0-9975690-1-8

  Chapter 1

  My eyes scan the crowd, taking in the masses as they cheer and hold signs supporting my run for Congress.

  Five years ago, when I was honorably discharged from the Marines, I never would’ve dreamed this would be my future.

  All the signs carry the same slogan: Trust in Titan. Knowing the constituents in my home state of Illinois feel this way makes me proud. I spent ten years fighting in wars to defend our great nation and preserve her freedoms. When I was given the Medal of Honor after staving off the enemy to save my fellow Marines, I thought my life had been made.

  Where else could I go from there? It’s the highest military decoration. I didn’t think I’d ever run for office.

  I wave my hands to quiet the crowd assembled in the ballroom at the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago. When their voices are only a whisper, I speak. “I’m here today to officially announce my run for Congress.”

  The crowd comes back to life, louder than before. I don’t stop them, letting them cheer and scream my name because… well, I deserve this moment.

  “Titan. Titan,” the people cheer, and my chest swells with pride. Only in this great nation could a man with such a humble beginning rise to this level.

  “Thank you,” I say into the microphone, gripping the sides of the podium to steady my hands as the people begin to quiet. “I’ve never been involved in politics, and in today’s climate, I feel there’s a need for an outsider like me to enter the race. For too many years, the lifelong politicians have been making the decisions that affect people like you. They enjoy their fat bank accounts without a care about how their choices touch your lives. I’m here to put a stop to Washington as usual. I promise tonight, to each of you, that I will do everything in my power to make your lives better. Today, I’m officially announcing my candidacy for United States Senate.”

  Balloons rain down from the ceiling, filling the ballroom with more red, white, and blue. I step in front of the podium and wave to the crowd, before stooping down to shake a few hands. “Thank you for your support and service,” I tell the vet standing in the front row wearing a POW-MIA baseball cap.

  “Thank you for running,” he replies and covers our hands with his left. His wrinkled skin is riddled with age spots. “I know you’ll do right by us veterans.”

  I swallow down my emotions from shaking his hand, knowing we lived through much of the same trauma. “I’ll make it my job.” The smile on my face is sincere when he nods and releases my hand.

  “Jude. Oh my God, Jude Titan.” A woman screams so loud my ears ring. “You’re even sexier in person.” Her large, round eyes roam over my body before finally resting on my face. “Day-um,” she says before whistling.

  “Do I know you?” I ask, trying to keep my face impartial as I search my memory bank for a one-night stand I had forgotten about in a drunken haze.

  She places her hand against my forearm. “You can,” she says with a smirk and runs her fingers across my tattoo.

  “Mr. Titan,” my campaign manager says from behind me. “You have an interview to get to, sir.”

  “Can I count on your vote?” I ask the woman when I begin to stand and break contact with her.

  Her stare creeps me out, but I keep a smile plastered on my face. “There’s no one else I have my sights set on.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I need Mr. Titan,” Carl says, pulling me backward to safety.

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter and blow out a breath. “Thanks for the save.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be the last, Jude. Just be careful. You’re a candidate now, and things can easily get out of control or be misconstrued.”

  I’m pushing up my sleeves, and my nose wrinkles as his words hit me. “Misconstrued? I did nothing wrong. I didn’t flirt with her.”

  “What you did and what she says you did are two different things. It’s very easy to ruin a campaign before it’s ever even started.”

  “Carl, I realize it’s your job to get me elected, but don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. Should I have been rude to the woman?”

  He shakes his head and his jaw ticks. “No,” he says through gritted teeth, his shoulders rising as his nostrils flare. “But don’t put yourself in the situation in the first place, and we won’t have an issue.”

  I stop walking and cross my arms in front of my chest. “So I should just avoid all women?” My head tilts, and I can’t help but sneer.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something under his breath about God. “No, Jude,” he says in a condescending tone. “Just don’t put yourself in another situation like that.”

  My finger taps against my lips, and I try to control my frustration. “I’ll make a mental note to avoid situations like that,” I say, using air quotes before I brush by him and head toward the small group of reporters gathered near the back of the stage.

  I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. If I can’t handle a woman in a crowd, I’m not sure how I made it out of war in one piece.

  “Ah, hello, Ms. Campbell,” Carl says to a woman approaching us with a notebook and pen in hand.

  “Mr. Schultz. Thank you for allowing us here for what’s looking to be the start of a very interesting election season.” Her eyes dart to mine, and I hold her gaze, unfazed by her comment.

  “I’m looking forward to a tough fight,” I say to her and hold out my hand, dis
regarding Carl’s presence. “I’m Jude Titan.”

  “It’s wonderful to finally meet the man behind the name.” Her face flushes and she averts her eyes. “What would you say to your opponent, Representative Preston?”

  “Well.” I pause for a moment and choose my words very carefully. “I’d tell her that, even though I’m not part of a long-standing political family like she is, I know how to win a battle, and I plan to defeat her this November.”

  Carl steps forward and clears his throat. “He’s looking forward to showing Representative Preston that he’s a worthy adversary.”

  When my eyes cut to his, he looks everywhere but at me.

  “He may not be steeped in government, but he’s served his country with valor and honor and will do everything in his power to earn the respect of voters all over Illinois.”

  I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “What are you doing?”

  “Saving your ass,” he replies through gritted teeth.

  “Do you have time for a one-on-one interview?” Ms. Campbell asks, tipping back on her heels nervously.

  “He’s booked today, but if you call me—” Carl pulls a business card from his jacket and hands it to her “—I’ll make sure to schedule an interview as soon as possible.”

  “Mr. Titan,” another reporter interrupts, sticking his recorder in my face.

  Carl cuts him off, pushing the man’s arm down. “No more questions today. Please see the media spokeswoman, Ms. Jenkins, for any information or to schedule an interview in the future. It’s going to be a long season, ladies and gentleman. Mr. Titan has just announced his candidacy and needs to spend time tonight with his supporters who came to cheer him on.”

  I want to argue with him, but he’s right. Tonight isn’t about the press. It’s about the people. People like me who rarely have a voice.

  For far too long, I’ve been subjected to the deals many politicians made. The military is notoriously shortchanged and overworked because of special interest groups and in the name of the almighty dollar.

  Americans are led to believe wars are fought for just reasons. Why else would they support them? Politicians tell lies to make the public accept the fact that thousands of lives will be lost in the name of saving the world from tyranny or terrorism.

  But deep down, at the core of their decision to go to war, there’s another reason—an ulterior motive that seems to be missed by the masses.

  Money.

  Wars cost billions of dollars. The money is funneled from the US government to the weapons companies around the country.

  War is big business.

  Fortunes are made on the backs of US servicemen and women. They’ve given their lives for each dollar bill that lines the pockets of Washington’s elite.

  It stops with me.

  I’ll break the cycle and make people my first priority. Reagan Preston’s about to find out Marines always fight to win, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 2

  My hands are covering my face, and I crack two fingers open to make a “V” I can see the TV screen through.

  “Shit,” I say with a groan. “He has a presence, doesn’t he?”

  “He definitely does,” my friend and campaign manager, Alexis, says.

  I close my fingers and go back to the blissful blackness of not seeing my new opponent, Jude Titan. “Why does he have to be so damned attractive? And…heroic? Attractive or heroic, I think I could handle, but both?”

  “Mmm, I’ll handle that man anytime,” Lexi mutters.

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Sorry.” She turns to me and takes my wrists, easing my hands down. “Look, we’ll find his weak spot. I mean, the guy’s never run for any office. Your political experience started in the womb.”

  I roll my eyes. “Lex, being from a family with a history in politics is good and bad. It’s mostly bad against Jude Titan. He’s a war hero, returning home to shake up the establishment. No baggage. Just a chiseled jawline and a huge smile and a Medal of Honor around his neck.”

  Lexi gets a dreamy look on her face, and I shove her. “Stop picturing him wearing nothing but the medal.”

  “I wasn’t,” she says, her fair cheeks darkening.

  “You were.”

  “I may have been,” she admits.

  “I am so fucked.” I lean back against the thinly upholstered bench at the fold-down kitchen table of my campaign bus.

  “Game face,” Lexi reminds me. “You were fine the first time we watched this announcement.”

  “It’s different when the entire staff is in here. With you, I can be myself.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She glances at her wristwatch. “Hey, you want me to reschedule your stuff for the rest of the day, and we can wallow? I’ll allow you six hours to wallow before we put our big-girl panties back on.”

  I smile. “Thanks, but no. I need to do those interviews and that speech to put on a good face about running against Titan.” I shake my head. “Ugh, even his name reeks of power and capability. I’ve really got my work cut out for me.”

  “I’ll be right beside you. And your father will be, too.”

  “You’re right,” I say with a deep breath. “We can do this.”

  “You unseated Paul Hawthorne after he’d served five terms in the state house,” Lexi reminds me. “Your approval rating is strong. And since when do you back down from a fight?”

  She’s getting animated now—her short red corkscrew curls are bouncing as she talks. I love this girl. She’s been by my side since we met as college sophomores a little more than ten years ago.

  “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “So Jude Titan’s running. Maybe he’ll lose in the primary.”

  Lex snorts and laughs. She covers her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. Maybe he will.” She clears her throat and tries to stop smiling but just ends up laughing again.

  I shake my head and walk back to the tiny bathroom. Life on a campaign bus is very unglam. The battle between the male and female staffers over the toilet seat is real, and it’s aggravated by someone’s lousy aim. Putting a pee-stained toilet seat down is just gross.

  I fix my hair and put on fresh lip gloss. Before I’m done, I hear the rest of the staff piling back on to the bus. We stopped at a deli for a late lunch, and now it’s time to drive to Charleston for a campaign rally.

  The ride to Charleston is quiet. Jude Titan’s announcement has everyone in a thoughtful mood. This election was in the bag. The Democratic primary is uncontested, so my only opponent for the Senate seat my father is vacating was going to be Republican Sonny Solomon, the quirky mayor of a small, southern Illinois town.

  Jude is likely to plow over Sonny in the Republican primary, and that victory will give him momentum. I have a strong track record, but still…a handsome war hero is a tough opponent.

  I give my stump speech at a rally in a high school gymnasium in Charleston, and the crowd roars to life when I mention Jude Titan at the end.

  “Mr. Titan served our country with valor,” I say, my hands wrapped loosely around the edges of the wooden lectern I’m standing behind. “I have nothing but respect for him. Serving in the Senate is different, though. It takes experience and tenacity. I have both. I’m only thirty years old, but I know our state well. I know its needs well. Being Stan Preston’s daughter prepared me perfectly to be your next senator. I need your support, and I appreciate your being here tonight.”

  The sound of applause and cheering invigorates me. This is my dream. My life. I grew up idolizing my father and his ideals. I want to be a voice for the middle class and an advocate for education reform. I’m doing it at the state level now, but I’m ready to move up to Congress and have a greater impact.

  I step away from the stage and am greeted by people with their hands out, all talking at the same time. I shake hands, pose for photos, and talk to as many people as I can.

  Lexi approaches and takes my arm. She’s giving me the look. It means something’s up.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry, guys,” she says to the group of waiting people. “She has an interview at a news station in fifteen minutes. I have to take her.”

  One of my deputy campaign managers passes out business cards to everyone who wants one. Lexi steers me toward the waiting campaign bus.

  “What’s up?” I ask her as soon as we step on and the driver closes the doors.

  “I got a call from a TV station manager in Springfield. He wants to know if you’re interested in doing a Q&A thing with Titan and Sonny Solomon Wednesday evening.”

  “Wednesday?” I arch my brows. “Yikes. That’s tomorrow. Not much prep time.”

  “I know. I think he wants to capitalize on Titan’s announcement. I can tell him no.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m in. I’d like to size Jude Titan up in person.”

  “I’ll let the manager know.”

  The bus starts up, and we head toward the news station. Claire, another of my staffers, kneels in front of me and powders my nose.

  “I’m sweating like a whore in church,” I say to her. “That gym wasn’t air-conditioned.”

  “We’ll get you all fixed up,” Claire says. “Want me to pull up your hair to help cool you off?”

  “That would be great,” I say, reaching over to open the fridge from my seat. “You want a water?”

  “Sure.”

  I take two bottles out and hand her one. As I open mine and take a drink, I’m thinking about meeting Jude tomorrow. I’m eager to find out if his presence is as commanding as it seemed on TV today. I’m also eager for him to see that I can bust balls with the best of them.

  Jude Titan can bring it on.

  I’m ready.

  Chapter 3

  The enemy.

  It’s a term I’ve become all too familiar with in my thirty years walking this earth. After serving in the Marines, I never thought I’d face another one, but here I am—standing backstage, waiting to do a Q&A with my opponents for the evening news…my enemies.