A/N - This is a new story that I have begun writing. I wasn't going to publish until I finished, but I decided, what the heck. I hope to update 2-3 times a week, but I'm unsure I can sustain that, as it is a work in progress. Please read and review. Will contain adult language, themes, and scenes at some point.

Disclaimer: Anything familiar belongs to Janet Evanovich. All mistakes are mine.

Chapter 1

January 2016

"Mr. President, your wife has stage four pancreatic cancer. Her prognosis isn't good. The chances of her living until Election Day are slim to none. I understand you must campaign, but your wife needs you more." Dr. Fitzsimmons informs me. I agree. I owe it to Ellen to stay by her side now. I knew something was wrong, but I never thought it would be cancer in an aggressive form like pancreatic cancer.

"Isn't there anything we can do? Any treatment?"

"Not at this time. It is too far gone. Unfortunately, this is often the case with this type of cancer. We can try chemo or radiation, but that will only prolong the inevitable. The best option right now is palliative care. If we caught this two months ago, my outlook would be more optimistic. However, it is the most aggressive form because it is difficult to catch pancreatic cancer early on."

I sigh, knowing that my life is going to change. Even though Election Day is ten months away, it's too late to pull out. I know I could and that my VP and running mate, Thomas Judge, from Illinois, would be a fine President; we'd most likely not win the election. However, before I decide anything, I need to talk to Ellen.

"I will modify my schedule and ask my daughter to take my place on the campaign trail. She and Ellen don't often see eye-to-eye, so I know Ellen wouldn't want her hovering around."

"I'm sorry I didn't have better news, Mr. President."

"It's not your fault. Thank you, doctor."

March 2016

That conversation was two months ago. I asked Stephanie to campaign for me three days after we received Ellen's diagnosis. She jumped on the opportunity. She was a double major in advertisement and communications at Rutgers University. She graduated summa cum laude, and I couldn't be more proud of her. Since she graduated, Stephanie has worked behind the scenes for all of my political races, helping me direct the media to what I wanted to discuss and vetting all approved campaign ads. She knew what the people needed to see for me to win the election. I was confident that my message would be loud and clear, with Stephanie representing me.

My youngest daughter, Stephanie, is fiercely independent and self-sufficient. Much to my wife's chagrin, she has yet to find a husband, but I know she's waiting to find someone who understands her free spirit. However, that stubborn desire to do things her way means that she doesn't have Secret Service protection. Though she is entitled, she outright refuses it. She claims it is creepy to have someone follow her everywhere she goes. Even Joe Morelli, who grew up with my daughters in Trenton, NJ, who is an SS agent on my team, tried to talk some sense into her, but she ignored it.

Now, I have a stack of letters, photos, and threats on my desk that seem to be from the same person. Based on the letters' content, he wants to kill my daughter after making her his sex slave. I again tried to convince her to take a SS detail, but she still refused.

"Joe, what can I do? She's not safe out there on her own. I can't stay here and concentrate on keeping Ellen comfortable if I am worried about Stephanie. At least Valerie knows her limitations and is accepting of her security."

"Mr. President, Frank, I heard that a security company recently opened in Trenton. That office is their fourth location. Eddy and Big Dog have told me that the men who run it are ex-military, badass mercenaries. They chase skips, install and monitor security systems, and occasionally provide bodyguarding services to individuals or groups. Unless you allow me to be her security, they might be the only ones who can handle Stephanie."

"Joe, you know that isn't allowed. You aren't even supposed to be dating her. Your bosses and I are looking the other way only because you were friends as children."

Joe Morelli is a good man, even though he was not a boy I wanted around my daughters when he was in high school. Since his time in the Navy, he has matured and become honorable. The Secret Service recruited Joe from the Navy, and, at first, Joe was hesitant to join. However, he found this was the best way to protect people while mainly staying out of harm's way. Joe's only vice is that he has one too many lady friends. I pretend I don't know, but it's only because he and Stephanie are not on their way down the aisle. Even though they have been dating intermittently for the last five years, I know that nothing will ever come of a relationship. It's another reason why I want him away from my daughter. I'm hoping she realizes there are so many better men for her. I know Ellen wishes that Stephanie would marry Joe, but he is not the right man for her.

My other daughter, Valerie, is the opposite of Stephanie. Valerie is married with two daughters. Steven is a good man and an excellent provider. They are both very content, living in Virginia since Steven is on my staff. He's a lawyer by trade, which makes him an excellent person to have near me. A housewife and mother are the only jobs Valerie ever wanted, and she wears her titles well.

"Joe, give me the names of the owners of the company. I will review their credentials and get back to you."

"Would you like me to gather information?"

"No, Joseph. I want you to keep my daughter safe while she's here in D.C. I'll work on getting her security."

"Yes, Mr. President. If you'll excuse me."

Joe leaves my office, and I sit down behind my desk. These letters and pictures are disturbing. There are images of Stephanie on the campaign trail with a target on her and her inside her apartment in Trenton. We have the Secret Service, the FBI, and local police looking into the origins of the threats, but there are no leads so far.

"Mr. President, you have a meeting with Senator Jacobs and Congressman Phelps in ten minutes. Then, in an hour, you have a conference call with the British PM."

"Thank you, Clara. When Agent Morelli returns with the security firm's name, please give me the information immediately, no matter where I am. Also, can you please ask General Bogusch to meet with me today? Squeeze him in wherever you can. I need at least a half-hour with him." General Andrew Bogusch is a five-star general who oversees the special forces. While many civilians and even those within the government see those soldiers as mercenaries or killers for hire, that is not the case. Those men and now women are integral in keeping American citizens safe, here and abroad. Without their dedication and sacrifices, we wouldn't have the freedoms we do. I glance at the file in front of me with the information I need for my next meeting before heading for one of the meeting rooms where the Senator and Congressman will be waiting for me—time to push my agenda.

"Mr. President," Clara called as I was on my way to meet with my Chief of Staff and best friend, Joe Juniak, and our Press Secretary, Abigail Fiore, ahead of the daily press briefing. "Agent Morelli dropped off the file you asked for." Clara continues handing me a piece of paper with a company's name and ten employees.

"Thank you, Clara. What time is my meeting with the General?"

"I could only get him in after dinner at seven this evening."

"That will work. Please leave a message for the General to meet with me at the residence."

"Yes, Sir."

I glance at the names, hoping that these men will be able to control my darling daughter.

After a long and grueling day, I finally find myself in my private quarters. First, I check on Ellen. She is sleeping. After speaking with her nurse, I discovered that today was good for her. She baked and had lunch with Joe Juniak's wife, Elisa. I take the opportunity to sit in her room with a laptop and begin to vet the company I will entrust with my daughter's life.

Ninety minutes later, I'm frustrated as hell. I can't find any information about the men whose names appear on this paper. As far as I know, they are ghosts. On the one hand, the lack of available intel is positive since that means they cover their trail well, but I don't know anything about them. The only information I find is the location of their four branches, Miami, Atlanta, Trenton, and Boston. I can see the menu of services they offer. I am impressed with their services. If they protect Stephanie well, I will hire them to cover my New Jersey homes and pass their names along to my colleagues. However, if something happens to my Stephanie, there will be no place on Earth they can hide.

I hear a knock on the door and watch as it opens. Clara sticks her head in, and I wave her into the room. "Sir, how is the First Lady today?"

"Ellen baked a cake and had lunch with Mrs. Juniak. There wasn't much pain. Hopefully, she has more days like today."

"I'm glad to hear that, Sir. General Bogush is here. Shall I show him to the dining room?"

"Yes, please, Clara. I will join him shortly," I say. Clara nods and leaves the room quietly. I kiss Ellen on her cheek and shut down my laptop. I take the names with me, hoping the General can shed some light on these men. Even though I need to discuss the unsettling news out of South Asia, I will mention this to him.

We enjoyed a light dinner and then moved to the billiards room. While we played a game of eight balls, I decided to tell the General about the threats against Stephanie.

"Andrew, with these threats against my daughter, I must protect her, but she refuses to have the Secret Service with her. I've decided to hire a private firm, but I can't find any information about them. Agent Morelli informed me that they are all special forces, some retired, but they are ghosts."

"What are their names? If they were any good, I'd know them."

I take the paper out of my pocket and unfold it. "R. Carlos Manoso, Lester Santos, Robert Brown, Pierre Dupree, Calvin Whitman, Noah Ramsey, John Woodrow, Michael John Wilson Junior, Hector Guitierrez, and Augustine Halbrook. The company's name is Rangeman."

The General smiles as he hears the names of the men. They were the best of the best, and aside from Manoso, Whitman, and Santos, they were all retired. "Hire them, Frank. If they can't protect Stephanie, no one can."

I've known the General a long time, and he doesn't give vouch for anyone. They must be the best if he is telling me to hire them. "Can you give me some background? I don't want to go in blind. Remember, this is the First Daughter we're talking about."

Andrew sighs, putting down the cue stick and sitting on one of the leather chairs. Frank takes the hint and sits across from the General. "Those men are comprised our top five special ops teams for the last five to eight years. Whitman and Woodrow were SEALs, while the rest were Rangers. Gutierrez was the only one who wasn't military, but he had gang affiliations and was a tech wizard. You've heard of Manoso."

"I have?" I search my brain for some recognition. I have a mind for names and faces, but I don't recall ever hearing of someone named R. Carlos Manoso.

"Manoso is better known as Ranger," says Andrew.

Now I smile. Yeah, Ranger will be a good match for my Stephanie. If anyone can keep her in sight and under wraps, it's Ranger. "Do you think he's up for the challenge? Protecting Stephanie could be his hardest mission yet."

"Well, if not, I can always send him to a 'Stan." We click our glasses of whiskey and drink to a promising arrangement.