Page 4 of Fighting for Julia (Laguna Beach Cops #6)
THE PRESENT
FEbrUARY
Washington, D.C.
Secretary of State Barbara Washburn stood in the White House’s press room and declared her intention to run for President of the United States. Greg Washburn, her husband of thirty-two years, and her five adopted children flanked her.
“My career as a corporate attorney, my years of service in the Senate, and as your Secretary of State under President Brown the past two terms have prepared me well to handle the responsibilities of the highest office in our nation. In the free world,” she added.
“I and my family are ready to face the challenges that lie ahead. In the weeks and months to come, my platform for the presidency will be revealed.”
Barbara glanced to her left and met the steady gaze of former Lieutenant Commander and Navy SEAL, now Chief of Police of Laguna Beach, Justice McQuaid.
His wife Brielle stood next to him with their four-month-old son in her arms and their two daughters clinging to Justice’s hands.
His presence at her press conference could only mean one thing—after months of discussion he’d finally decided to accept a position with the Secret Service.
She wouldn’t trust anyone else with her and her family’s lives.
His casual nod confirmed her dearest hope.
She stepped aside to allow President Brown to announce his support of her candidacy.
“I can’t think of a finer person to succeed me.
She’s had her finger on the pulse of this nation for over a decade.
No one understands our global position and its importance and implications better than she does.
No one cares more about the people of the United States than she does.
Barbara proved it when she prevented domestic terrorist, Axel Anderson, from enacting his plan to destroy this country.
Please join me in supporting Secretary of State Barbara Washburn in her bid for the presidency. ”
Thunderous applause rose in the press room.
Barbara returned to the podium and answered the media’s questions for an hour.
The press still shouted questions at her as she and her family exited to their right and headed toward the Oval Office, following President Brown. The McQuaids trailed behind them.
President Brown indicated that Justice and Brielle should make themselves comfortable on a sofa.
He and Barbara and Greg sat across from them.
Julia Washburn, the eldest daughter, took Noelle, the McQuaids’ toddler, by the hand while their son slept undisturbed in Brielle’s arms. Rosie, quiet and solemn, perched next to her father.
The Washburns’ other adult children gathered behind their parents.
“It’s my understanding, Chief McQuaid, that Barbara wants you as the head of her security detail. She won’t consider anyone else, though there are highly qualified Secret Service agents.”
“Yes, Mr. President. Madam Secretary has made her wishes clear to me.”
“And?”
“And I will accept the position on one condition.”
President Brown frowned. “Oh?”
“I won’t work with anyone except Detective Luca Martinelli, Lieutenant David Hutchinson, Captain Owen Dooley, Sergeant Tawny Finnigan, and Officer Miguel Rivera.” He reached for Brielle’s hand. “And my wife, of course.”
Brielle gasped in surprise as she turned toward Justice. “What? When did that enter your mind?”
“I’ve been pondering it for a while now.”
“But, Justice, what about our children?”
Rosie, the McQuaids’ adopted daughter, leaned around Justice to look at her mother. “Mom, you don’t need to worry about us. We can live with Grandpa Cameron and Grandma Brianna on their ranch in Boulder, or with Grandpa Franklin and Grandma Adrienne in Laguna Beach. We’ll be fine.”
“That’s sweet, Rosie, but your brother and sister are too young to be without both of their parents. Justice, really, you shouldn’t have sprung this on me without discussing it first.”
Justice gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Mr. President, whether Brielle decides to join me or not, that’s my condition.”
President Brown cleared his throat. “And have you discussed this with the officers you mentioned?”
“Yes, sir. Right after Hutch, Luca, and Tawny returned from their honeymoons. They’re all in, Mr. President. One hundred percent.”
The President addressed Barbara. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“I’m sure, Mr. President.”
Satisfied with her answer, he nodded. “Have all of you filled out applications, Chief McQuaid?”
“Yes, sir. Two weeks ago.”
“I’ll order the Director of the Secret Service to fast track the applications. Your start date can be decided between you and Madam Secretary.”
He rose to his feet, the McQuaids and Washburns with him. Shaking Justice’s hand, he said, “Welcome aboard, Chief. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with my Chief of Staff.”
Barbara invited Justice and his family to dinner at her home in Alexandria.
Due to icy road conditions, it took longer than usual for them to reach the red-brick Colonial-style home in one of Alexandria’s wealthiest communities.
Julia led the McQuaids past a formal living room to a comfortable family area where the Washburns’ youngest son, a junior at Georgetown University, was stoking a cheerful fire.
Julia’s sisters gathered their guests’ heavy coats, scarves, and gloves and disappeared into another room with them.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Barbara announced. “I put a pot roast in the slow cooker this morning. It’s almost done.”
“What can I get you to drink?” Greg asked.
“Nothing at the moment,” Justice replied over the loud squall his son emitted in his arms. He felt JJ’s bottom and made a face. “Is there somewhere I might change my son’s diaper?”
Julia, a pretty brunette with brown eyes, smiled and beckoned him. “Come with me.”
Justice slung the diaper bag onto his shoulder and followed Julia upstairs to a fully furnished nursery. At the quizzical expression on his face, she laughed.
“Ostensibly, it’s for guests to use, but I think Mom and Dad are secretly hoping for grandchildren.”
“You’re not married.” Justice removed the dirty diaper and dropped it into one of those fancy disposals.
“Not even close. My career is too demanding.”
“DEA agent, right?”
“Yes. Brielle’s uncle, Caden McAdams, trained me before he retired. To be trained by a man who’s a legend was an honor. Absolutely the best experience of my life.”
Justice’s gaze kept straying to the sterling silver necklace she wore. A weird sensation crept across his skull. He could have sworn he’d seen one like it before. “Your necklace is lovely.”
She fingered it. “Thanks. It’s the only thing I own from my biological parents. I was found with it around my neck.”
Justice sprinkled baby powder on JJ. “Do you know who they are?”
Julia shook her head as she handed a clean diaper to him. “Not a clue. No one does. And, honestly, I don’t have a desire to know. Neither do my siblings regarding their birth parents. Mom and Dad have provided us a great life with every advantage, but most importantly, a happy life.”
“That’s all that matters,” Justice agreed. He lifted his sleepy son into his arms.
“If you want, you can leave JJ in the crib, Chief McQuaid. We’ll take the baby monitor with us.”
“Sure.”
Justice laid his son in the crib and waited a moment for him to settle into sleep. He carried the baby monitor downstairs to the formal dining room where the others had already gathered around the walnut table. He saw Noelle snuggled in Brielle’s arms and approached them.
“Here, I’ll take Noelle upstairs to the nursery. JJ is asleep in a crib, and there’s a twin-sized bed, too.”
Brielle nodded and handed Noelle to Justice. He made his way back upstairs, settled her on the bed, tucked her in, and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “You have my heart for always, baby girl.”
When he returned to the dining room, he found a plate of pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and slices of warm Italian bread at his place. The family joined hands and bowed their heads for grace.
After Greg offered a heartfelt prayer, he lifted his wine glass. “A toast. Here’s to a successful campaign that ends in the White House. And to you, Justice, for agreeing to protect my wife.”
“Hear! Hear!” The adults clinked their wine glasses.
Due to unsafe weather conditions, the McQuaids spent the night with the Washburns instead of their hotel.
In the morning, Barbara took Justice to meet her campaign manager, Warren Beecher, a no-nonsense expert in getting candidates elected to the presidency.
The two previous Presidents both served consecutive terms, largely in part to Beecher’s style of sticking to the issues and the candidates’ platforms, as opposed to ad hominem techniques that only served to muddy the waters.
He didn’t always support a candidate who was a shoo-in; he supported the one with the clearest vision moving forward.
Once elected, it was up to the candidate to prove himself, or in this case, herself, if Barbara won the election.
Beecher impressed Justice with his coolheadedness and modesty. Though he could brag about his past success, he kept the focus of their meeting on Barbara’s qualities that Beecher wanted to capitalize on.
“She’s a working mother of five successful, adopted children, none of whom have ever been in trouble, not even a traffic ticket.
No drugs, no drinking, they’re almost too good to be true.
” Beecher smiled. “Trust me, the vultures and the naysayers will be digging deep for some mud to throw at her and her family that they think will stick. It won’t.
Barbara and Greg have impeccable pasts. No accepting bribes, no extortion, faith-centered marriage.
They’re living the American Dream. And the best part is, they worked for it. Neither comes from a wealthy family.”