Page 137 of Wyatt

“What is this game?”

“Not a game. I’m saving our country from a terrorist.”

“You look like the terrorist.” He wanted to take a swipe for the phone. “Hang up.”

“No problem.” Kobie held up the phone and pressed End. “So here’s what’s going to happen, Champ. You’re going to a political rally.”

Wyatt stared at him. “What?”

“Reba Jackson. VP candidate. She’s having a rally on Piers 62 and 63 today, in about…” He checked his watch. “Forty-five minutes. And you’re going to get onstage and set the world free.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I saw you talking to your brother Tate, who I know is working for the senator these days. I’ve been following them for weeks, waiting for this moment. And I know you went up to talk to her.”

He’d seen Wyatt yesterday in the lobby of the Fairmont?

“And I know she likes the Minnesota Blue Ox.”

Wyatt’s mouth tightened.

“I’ll bet she found out you and your team were in town for this exhibition and decided to have a little meet and greet, huh?”

The wind stirred the cedar and spruce that surrounded the hospital, lifting the collar of his jacket.

“Did she even invite you to the rally?”

Wyatt said nothing, his mouth a tight line.

“Well, no matter. You attract a crowd wherever you go. I’m sure you can get a moment onstage. And that’s all I need. A moment. For you to read this.”

He handed Wyatt an index card.

Wyatt read the first line. “I’m not going to tell the world that Senator Jackson is a terrorist!”

“Yes you are. Because she is and the world needs to hear it. But they’re not going to listen to me, are they? Never mind that I served my country. Never mind that my brother was killed trying to defend it. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. We never were. We just wanted people to pay attention. And they’ll listen to you, hotshot.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand. You just have to say yes.”

Wyatt would be the accomplice of a domestic terrorist. Not to mention, if there was a rogue faction in the government, he might be next on their hit list.

“If I do this, my career could be over.” PR suicide, really. His gaze scanned over the content of the card, reading too fast to understand it, really.

What he did understand was Coco’s words.Thank you for our beautiful son. I know you’ll take care of him.

She was saying goodbye. Because she thought he wouldn’t do it.

“It’s your choice, Marsh—”

“I’ll do it.” He looked up at him. Drew in a breath. “Of course, I’ll do it.”

“Good. Let’s get you cleaned up. You have an audience to meet.”

Wyatt’s phone buzzed in his hand. Tate was on the line.

“I have to take this—”