TORMENT Read Online Free

wouldn’t be long before some other kind of controversy or tragedy overshadowed the hullabaloo started by the Russians. The airplane crash helped, but with every crash around the world being front page news since 9-11, it wouldn’t hold interest for long. “Let it blow over,” he’d told his staff, “then welcome the vultures back.”
    Four Secret Service officers, three men and one woman, followed close behind Collins. They had been handpicked to watch his back and if need be, take a bullet for him. Tom Austin, the senior agent of the four, was an outstanding agent with a squeaky clean appearance and a record as polished as his now bald head. Collins had heard that the man had some strange hobbies outside of the job—surreal art and painting—but that didn’t matter to Collins. Tom was the best Secret Service agent on the job.
    Collins strode past the vice president’s office, glancing in. The office, as expected, was empty. A hunting trip called the VP north to Maine. He’d missed out on the Russian fiasco, but called in to brag about the black bear he’d taken. “Maybe a brown bear is next in our sights, eh?” he’d joked. Russia hadn’t been a bear since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Mother Russia was hardly more than a cub now.
     Passing the chief-of-staff’s office, Collins saw the man hard at work. He gave a quick wave and rounded the corner. Next came rows of smaller offices on either side of the hallway, leading toward the Oval Office. He avoided the glances of the men and women working in those offices. He knew what they were thinking, and their probing eyes would only spoil what was sure to be a pleasant morning and a delicious brunch. The White House cook staff made amazing hollandaise sauce. He kept his eyes trained straight ahead. Any acknowledgement of the staffers in the offices to either side might bring on a barrage of questions about Russia he didn’t feel like answering, to them, or the press.
    The truth of the matter was that Collins did not take the Russian claims or threat seriously. Not in the least bit. Russians perfected the art of geopolitical grandstanding long ago. Several other concerns held higher spots on his priority list. Bills to be vetoed. Lobbyists to treat to dinner. Medals to award. Hell, his golf swing had him more concerned. He didn’t need to get into a public, celebrity style, name calling squabble with a has-been superpower. They could shout until they were red in the face, nothing more. It was a waste of time. Their own silence proved that. If they had any real case at all, they’d still be holding press conferences, or harassing the U.N.
    Collins smiled as he passed between the dining room adjacent to the Oval Office and the Roosevelt Room. Someone in the Russian military was no doubt being deported to Siberia for such a tactical blunder. What their angle was, he had no idea, but it turned out to be a major league screw up. Thank God I’ve got smarter people than that on my payroll , Collins thought, as he opened the door to the Oval Office and stepped inside. He left the four Secret Service officers in the hall where they would take up their normal positions.
    He closed the door behind him and smiled. A woman sitting in his executive chair had her long legs up on his desk. Her skirt rode up to her thigh and carried his eyes over the rest of her body, up to her blue eyes and smiling face. She held up a cigar. “Found an old stash of cigars deep in the desk. Think Clinton wants them back or should we have some fun?”
    Collins laughed. “Not very First Lady-like of you, dear.”
    Penny Collins laughed and stood behind the desk. “You know how un-First Lady-like I can be.” She put the cigar in the center desk drawer, straightened her dress and met him in the middle of the room. She kissed him lightly on the lips, then straightened his jacket. Because of Collins’s large nose, thin lips and short stature, he’d been dubbed the luckiest president to sit