LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

       Chapter One

       P OTUS is on the move.

      “Copy that.”

      “Copy what, Sean? It’s a little late for activity from the residence, isn’t it?” Jesse Colton asked, looking up from the page he’d been reading as he walked through the West Wing toward the doors and what was left of his evening.

      “Nothing, Jesse,” Sean said, no longer talking into his shirt collar. “POTUS is on the move. It’s nearly midnight, so he’s on the way to the main kitchen, probably. FLOTUS keeps stashing the residence fridge with apples and pears. POTUS wants coconut-cream pie.”

      “I wonder what the American Heart Association would have to say about President’s sweet tooth,” Jesse said, perching on a corner of Sean’s desk just inside the main vestibule. As jobs went, Sean’s was pretty cushy—but guarding the West Wing was also pretty boring. “And the loyal opposition would probably start demanding monthly cholesterol checks.”

      “Yes, but with us all sworn to fall on our swords rather than play tattletale, I guess POTUS is safe, both from the AHA and FLOTUS.”

      Jesse looked at the small, boxy screen on Sean’s desk, a constantly updated listing showing the location of the first family. Sure enough, POTUS, better known as President Jackson Coates, now showed in the main kitchen, with FLOTUS still in the second-floor residence, probably sound asleep. “POTUS. President of the United States. FLOTUS, first lady of the etcetera, etcetera. The acronyms ought to sound more presidential, don’t you think?”

      “I’ll mention it at tomorrow’s meeting of the Proper Presidential Acronym Committee—that would be P-PAC, of course,” Sean said, shaking his head. Sean was the perfect Secret Service agent; his hair was neatly clipped, his suit neatly pressed, and his smile neatly neutral. “What do you have there, Jesse?”

      Jesse looked down at the now-closed manila folder. “This? Personal stuff. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to remove state secrets on your watch, and sell them to the tabloids. I mean, how much could they pay for a headline like POTUS Caught in Coconut-Cream Orgy.”

      “That’s a relief. So, what do you have there?”

      Jesse grinned. “That’s it, Sean, trust nobody.”

      “No, seriously. You were frowning. Frowning over personal stuff is never a good thing.”

      Jesse opened the folder and looked at the single sheet inside. “My family seems to have inherited a house in Georgetown.”

      “And this is bad news? Georgetown? Cushy address. Oh, wait a minute. Does it come with fifty years of back taxes they all want you to pay because you’re getting rich here at the White House, feeding from the public trough?”

      “Not quite, no,” Jesse said, knowing that if Sean knew the whole truth, he’d probably fall off his chair. “The place has been rented out for about sixty years now. I’m just trying to figure out a way to

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