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  CAT

  The Blackmore Agency: Book Nine

  Carolina Mac

  Copyright © 2018 by Carolina Mac

  CAT - 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-988850-57-3

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  To: Barbie

  She was not fragile like a flower. She was fragile like a bomb.

  ―UNKNOWN

  CHAPTER ONE

  January 19th.

  The night before.

  Judge Campbell’s Residence. West Austin.

  CAT stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. A few more lines around her eyes than she’d like and a few too many freckles across her nose. A good cover-up would fix the freckles. Nothing could fix the line. No gray hair, at least not yet. Still dark red with lots of natural highlights. The gray might be on its way—coming in fast and furious after tomorrow.

  Forty-seven years old and tomorrow she’d be the new Governor of Texas. And after the swearing-in ceremony and the official dinner and all the formal hoop-de-do, she’d be moving to the Governor’s mansion on Colorado Street. Some pretty impressive people had lived there before her. Sam Houston, George W. Bush, Miriam Ferguson. Would she measure up? Or would she show the people of Texas they’d made a horrible mistake?

  Was she ready for her new life? A life where every move she made, every word she spoke in public, every outfit she wore would be recorded, filmed, photographed, judged and open to public scrutiny.

  Frightening—that’s what it was. From tomorrow morning on, her life would be an open book. She had to assure that it would be a book she wouldn’t be ashamed to have people read. Funny when it came down to it, how much did it matter what anybody thought of her? Only one person’s opinion counted anymore. Why?

  Tomorrow would be a long and stressful day and sleep was what she needed most—if sleep was possible, she was so wound up. Her cell rang in the bedroom and she hurried out of the ensuite to grab it from her dressing table. “Hi.”

  “Can I come over?”

  “Not a good idea. There could be media people already stationed outside watching the house.”

  “I’ll be discreet. No one will see me. Leave the garden doors unlocked in the dining room.”

  “Umm… I need sleep before my big day tomorrow. I don’t want to be on flat screens all over the US with bags under my eyes.”

  “I’ll see that you get plenty of sleep. Plus, I’ll supply other necessities you need and…enjoy.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE sat in his office staring at the e-mails on his screen. He ran the Blackmore Agency from his renovated Victorian mansion located in the East Cesar Chavez area of the city of Austin, and on any given day he received hundreds of e-mails. From Powell Corp., the billion-dollar business he ran with his mother, Annie, dozens from Powell and Associates—his legal firm left to him by his step-father, (now expanded to three branches), and from the Blackmore Agency, his and Jesse Quantrall’s effort against violent crime in Texas.

  A gentle tapping sounded on the closed door, then Misty stuck her head in. “Are you busy, sweetheart? What do you think of this one?”

  This is the fourth dress she’s modelled for me.

  “Looks gorgeous on you, Mist. I love you in blue with your long, blonde curls.”

  She twirled around once and smiled.

  “Do you know what Cat’s wearing?” he asked.

  Misty inhaled a little too quickly. “I should have found that out first, shouldn’t I?” She moved closer to the desk, the way only Misty moved—floating silently on air like a hovercraft in a female body—unnerving to anyone not aware of her powers. “Can you call her?”

  Blaine laughed. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “She’s your best friend. She dotes on you.”

  Blaine shook his long black hair and his bandana flopped onto the desk. “No, she doesn’t.” He glanced at the time on his computer. Ten after ten. He picked up his cell and before he could press a contact, it rang in his hand. It startled him.

  “Hey, sweetie, I’m nervous. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Don’t tell me, I’m the grounding factor in your world.”

  “Something like that.”

  “What are you wearing tomorrow?”

  Cat giggled. “Why? Are we wearing matching outfits?”

  “It’s not me that’s concerned. Misty doesn’t want to be arrested by the fashion police.”

  “Green is my best color.”

  “Red hair, green eyes. I got it.”

  “What color is Mrs. Powell wearing?”

  “Damned if I know. She wears whatever she wants and has never once consulted me,” said Blaine.

  “She has an unlimited budget,” said Cat. “That fact alone makes me nervous.”

  “I don’t think you’re exactly starving, and why are you worrying? Is there going to be some red-carpet bullshit I don’t know about?”

  Cat giggled again, and Blaine thought he could hear somebody talking to her in the background.

  “I better go, sweetness. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You will.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE sat at the kitchen island at Coulter-Ross enjoying a beer with Declan. On staff the past few years as her medic, he attended to illnesses and injuries of the boys in the safe-house who were unable to leave the property because of their paroles.

  “Did you try your tux on, sugar pop?” asked Annie.

  “They measured me in the shop,” said Dec. “I’m sure it will be a perfect fit, and why worry? No one looks at the men anyway. Why would they with all the glam that will be going on? What are you wearing or is it a surprise to all of Texas?”

  Annie giggled. “Doesn’t matter what I wear, all eyes will be on Judge Catherine Campbell, the new Governor.”

  “Hope it isn’t four years of hell for young Blaine,” said Dec. “He’s the one who has to work with her.”

  “I wasn’t happy when he committed to her publicly on TV,” said Annie, “but it might work out. She doesn’t give off a trustworthy vibe—at least not to me.”

  “Tomorrow’s her first day. Let’s give the lady a chance before we burn her at the stake.”

  “Yeah, let’s.” Annie tipped up her Lone Star and finished it. “Let’s have another one.”

  “Your wish…” Dec winked at her.

  “Jesse will be going,” said Annie, as she pulled two more Lone Stars out of the Sub-Zero. “He’s part of the Blackmore Agency and he’ll have to be there.”

  “Will his presence bother you?”

  “Not much. I’ll always love Jesse, even though he’s never gotten his act together as my husband, my lover, or even my boyfriend, many moons ago. He has no clu
e how to have a relationship. He loves me, but he insists on living at his own ranch and raising his daughter over there. Can I accept that? Not really, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I can’t leave fifty people stranded over here at Coulter-Ross without jobs or a home.” Annie shrugged. “What am I going to do?”

  Declan grinned. “You’re going to forget about Jesse Quantrall and show me what you’re wearing tomorrow. Judge Catherine Campbell will come in second no matter how she tries to steal the show.”

  Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

  JESSE tucked Charity into her crib and read her a story. She had turned one in October, and was only beginning to say a few words, but Jesse felt it was important to read to her to get her used to a bedtime routine. And he also did it because it was Annie’s routine with Jackson and Lucy, and Charity had become part of it when they lived at Coulter-Ross. Should he have stayed there with his wife and raised his daughter there, or was he correct in thinking, Charity should be raised on Quantrall land—land that would belong to her someday?

  He was busy today with horses in the arena and hadn’t phoned Annie to see if they were going together to Judge Campbell’s inauguration.

  Should he call her now? He’d better. He switched off the light in Charity’s room and moved next door into his own bedroom, sat on the end of the bed and scrolled to Annie’s number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, cowboy, what’s up?”

  “I wondered about tomorrow. The inauguration, I guess I’m expected to go,” he said, “I’m on the list of the Blackmore Agency people. Are we going together?”

  “Sure, can do,” said Annie with no hesitation. “Dec is going as my escort because I’m invited, and I didn’t want to go alone, but come over and we’ll all go together.”

  I didn’t call and now she’s going with Dec.

  “I should have called earlier in the week, Ace. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it.”

  “No problem. It’s not like it will be a fun night at Boots or anything. We just have to tolerate it and see it through for Blaine.”

  “For a little while there a few months back, I didn’t think he was going to support her,” said Jesse. “They were having words.”

  “I’m not a big fan of the red-head,” said Annie, “but I don’t have to work with her.”

  Jesse chuckled. “What time should I come over?”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE had a little impromptu meeting in the kitchen after Misty went upstairs to bed. She had her own house and didn’t officially live with him, but she was there most of the time, along with her dog, Hoodoo, a big Bernese Mountain dog.

  Farrell sat down at the table with a beer in his hand. “What’s up. Nice of you to wait until the game was over, bro.”

  Blaine’s foster brother, Farrell Donovan, lived and worked with him. They were hardly ever separated. Lately, Farrell had been working out like a madman—since his breakup with Mary Polito—and had bulked up considerably. His weight was close to two hundred now. Six feet tall with long sandy hair, the two of them looked nothing alike.

  There were several other members on the Agency team, but they lived elsewhere.

  “Did you ask Mary to be your date for the inauguration?” asked Blaine.

  “Uh huh, I did. Not so much for the date thing, but I thought she would want to have the inside track to write the whole thing up for her column in the paper.”

  “I agree. She can get a more personal take on the whole process if she’s there as an invited guest and not part of the press mob.”

  “That’s what I told her.”

  “I bet you didn’t have to twist her arm. I see how she looks at you, when you’re in the same room. You two are missing each other.”

  Farrell nodded. “We are, but it’s better this way. Never gonna be any different for us. She wants to get married and have a family because she’s close to thirty. I’m twenty-three, and I’m not ready. The age difference is never gonna change.” Farrell tipped up his beer. “Same for you and Misty. That’s why you had your last breakup. Same thing.”

  Blaine nodded. It was the same. He was fond of Misty, and thought he might love her, but she was too old for him. Farrell was right. It would never change.

  CHAPTER TWO

  January 20th.

  Inauguration Day.

  Judge Campbell’s Residence. West Austin.

  CAT was awake before dawn pacing the floor in her room and wearing a path in the carpet. Her nerves were on edge and she wanted a drink but knew she couldn’t have one. There would have to be a lot of changes in her personal life if the next four years were to be successful. Self-sacrifice and hard work were the watchwords.

  And not a lot of sex or a lot of partners. Ugly rumors could spring up and swirl around the Capitol and kill any chance she might have of re-election. Re-election? She laughed out loud. Here she was thinking of running again, and she didn’t even have day one under her belt.

  Reggie wanted to get married and that might be the best thing. If she had a husband—even one she didn’t love—there would be no rumors about her love interests or who she was seeing—no fifty shades of fantasy in the Governor’s mansion for the media to sensationalize. She’d have to rethink his proposal as a safety measure and a means to an end.

  First, she’d run it by Blaine. He was her sounding board and her lifeline. Blaine didn’t know about her affair with Reggie, and she had to tell him—soon. Reg worked for Blaine—one of his attorneys at Powell and Associates—and if Blaine—she called him ‘the short fuse’—found out before she told him, there would be another blowup and yet another trust issue. The boy was big on trust. She’d found that out the hard way.

  Something else she’d discovered the hard way when she’d tried to outmaneuver him, Blaine Blackmore-Powell held all the cards. The power in Texas was his for the taking. She could not afford to piss him off.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE let the dogs out the back door into the recently landscaped yard, then padded barefoot to the kitchen in search of coffee. Carm was an early riser. She was up and dressed and coffee was brewed and sitting on the warmer.

  Blaine gave her a hug and spoke to her in Spanish. “Are you excited about going to Cat’s inauguration?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  “It will be boring.” He flopped his head forward. “You will fall asleep.”

  She giggled. “Your madre will be there, and she will make me laugh.”

  “That’s true.” Blaine smiled, thinking of Annie. “Mom will make you laugh.”

  Carmelita Flores was like a second mother to him. He had dated Carm’s daughter in a past life, and when Fabiana died on assignment for the DEA, Blaine moved into this house with Carm to keep her company. Things changed, he’d purchased the house and renovated it and now they were family.

  Farrell dragged into the kitchen in his Harley boxers and plopped down at the table, holding a pack of Marlboroughs in his hand. “What time do we have to go to the thing?”

  “It starts at noon, and then there’s a reception later in the afternoon, then drinks after that and then dinner.”

  “Jesus.” Farrell screwed up his unshaven face. “We’ll be there all fuckin day. What time do we eat?”

  “I guess we’ll eat when they tell us to,” said Blaine. “Eat a good breakfast so you don’t pass out.”

  “Is Travis going with us or with Ginny?”

  “He’s picking Doctor Rodriguez up at her place and meeting us there,” said Blaine, “He’s her date but more of an escort and only for today, so he says.”

  “Is Cat gonna have a date?”

  Blaine shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess she could if she wanted one. I’m sure the new Lieutenant Governor will be bringing his wife.”

  “What time is the parade?” Misty floated into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. She was gone just as quickly out the door, across the foyer into the front parlor
where the flat screen was located. Carm followed her with a bowl of eggs in her hand.

  “Guess we won’t get any breakfast until the parade is over,” grumbled Farrell.

  “Get some coffee and pop down some toast to tide you over,” said Blaine. “You need nourishment. You’re mean and vicious as a wolverine when you’re hungry. It’s gonna be a hell day on its own without you pointing out how much fun we ain’t having.”

  Farrell laughed at Blaine as he rummaged through Carm’s perfectly organized pantry for a loaf of bread. He found a loaf and popped down four slices of bread.

  STATE CAPITOL, Austin.

  “I DO solemnly swear I will support the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution and laws of the State of Texas, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the Governor to the best of my ability.”

  Cat sounded more nervous than Blaine had ever heard her. He might be nervous too, in a similar situation. He hoped to hell and back he never had to find out. He hated crowds, and this was a huge fucker of a mob packed into the Governor’s Reception Room, even though he was one of the lucky ones near the front with his crew and his family.

  Pictures now. The Chief Justice was affixing the seal and making everything official.

  Jesus, I hope she can hold it together for four years.

  A roar went up, the new Governor, a fashion statement in an elegant emerald green dress and matching jacket, smiled and stepped in front of the mic to make her first official speech.

  Hope it goes over well. I spent hours writing it.

  “WHERE TO from here?” asked Farrell when the speech was over, and the crowd was flowing like a tidal wave on to the next event.

  “Hope it’s somewhere with a bar,” said Annie. “It was hot in there with all those people too close to me. I could use a beer.”

  “She made a good speech,” said Jesse. “Damn good. Don’t know when I’ve heard better.”