Day 14 (cont'd)

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Jack stood at Kim's front door, his hand hovering just above the doorbell before he finally pressed it. His chest tightened with the same feeling that he'd had a week ago, when he'd thrown that quarter into the payphone to call her. Luckily, she hadn't picked up the phone. He hadn't spoken to her in almost three weeks, and he knew she had every reason to be angry for just disappearing. That's what kept him putting this off day after day. But today, he'd finally decided it was time. He couldn't avoid this anymore – it wouldn't get any better, only worse. He needed to start picking up the pieces of his real life and sort them out, one after the other.

While he waited, Jack glanced at the house. It looked fine. Tidy. He'd bought it for Kim, a few years ago. After Teri died, after he had sold their old home. Too many memories were connected with that place. They both had agreed that neither of them wanted to live there anymore, constantly being reminded of Teri. She was everywhere: invisibly rushing through the hallway, yelling at Kim to get ready for school. Sitting at the couch next to them, invisibly, reminding them that it was time to watch her favorite TV show and better give her the remote before she'd…. Every time one of them looked at the kitchen, they saw her, how she used to prepare breakfast. It had taken him nearly a month to remove her toothbrush from the holder, after she died.

This house was supposed to be a fresh start for Kim, something better than the mess his life had become. He hadn't joined CTU for the money, but at least the paycheck had allowed him to provide for the family in some way. It was the one thing he had always held on to, a reason to justify all the sacrifices and risks he had taken.

His own current life, though, was a way different story. He had parked his old station wagon down the street, out of sight. The car was a wreck, but it matched the state of his apartment, a cheap, rundown place he had chosen in a bad part of town. It was close to where his dealers had operated, and that had made it convenient: less risky than living somewhere else. Kim didn't even know where he lived now, what his life had looked like in the weeks after coming home from Mexico, after having been fired from CTU and leading up to rehab. He had made sure to hide that from her.

This morning, he had returned to his apartment for the first time since checking into rehab two weeks ago. He found the door broken. It wasn't surprising, given the neighborhood. Someone must have noticed his absence and taken the opportunity. The landlord had slapped a cheap padlock on the door, and when Jack found him, the man was furious, yelling about property damage and the mess in the apartment. They argued heatedly until the landlord realized Jack couldn't be blamed for someone else breaking in.

After paying the rent for the coming month and some more for the broken door, he gave Jack the key to the padlock.
The apartment was trashed. Every cabinet and drawer had been emptied, every corner ransacked in search of money—money that he'd never leave in such a place anyway. The place had always been cheap and run down, but now it looked like a crime scene. In the bedroom, he checked the closet where he used to keep his ammunition. Gone. The weapon that belonged with it... he vaguely remembered he had given it to Audrey before heading into rehab. That was a relief, at least. He made a mental note to ask Audrey where she'd put it.

He went into the bathroom and immediately noticed the ventilation grill had been removed. He had to admit that the hideout hadn't been that good anyway – pretty obvious, but who cared. He figured that nearly half of the apartments in that building had exactly such a hideout and exactly the same contents. So they'd found his emergency stash. His heroin. Just a small dose anyway, for emergencies, the nights he couldn't sleep but neither drive to one of the dealers – it was just enough to fall asleep and restock the day after. For a brief moment, he felt an odd sense of relief. What would he have done if it had still been there? He had been clean for two weeks, but the thought of heroin being within reach, right there, was still a temptation he wasn't sure he could resist. He felt some of temptation creeping back.

He had sat down on the edge of the tub, staring at the mess around him.
Why was he so calm? It didn't make sense. There was destruction everywhere, his things scattered and stolen, but compared to the violence, blood, and death he'd witnessed in his life, this felt so small. Had he become so detached from his life, from reality? The apartment felt foreign to him now, like it belonged to a different version of himself, one he no longer was. He looked at the mess and admitted to himself that this place had barely looked better before rehab - this mess was just a more honest reflection of the chaos he had already been living in. None of it mattered. None of this had mattered in quite a while.

Now, as he came back to the moment, he realized it had been a while since ringing Kim's doorbell. She was obviously not home. He didn't have a phone to call her. He had turned in his CTU cell after coming back from that last debrief in Washington D.C. and hadn't bothered to get another. The last thing he had wanted was to stay connected to anyone. All he had wanted was a quiet place to disappear, and heroin.

He sighed, pulling a crumpled piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. He'd leave a note, just so she'd know he had been here. He started writing, but after writing her name, his ideas already stalled: what should he write? His address? No, surely not. The phone number that he didn't have?

The sound of a car engine interrupted him. He looked up just as Kim's car pulled into the driveway. His heart raced, and he felt a mix of relief and anxiety. He had known this moment was coming, but now that it was here, he wasn't sure what to do.

Kim had spotted him the second she turned onto the street. She could recognize his figure from a mile away, even in the middle of a crowd—he was that familiar to her. As she pulled into the driveway, she sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, just staring at him. He stared back, neither of them moving. Jack stood there, still holding the note, his mind racing with what to say.

He swallowed hard. Now, he had to find the words he'd been struggling with for weeks.
She didn't shy away from this conversation. She stepped out of the car, got Angela from the back seat and walked up to him.

"Kim", he said, unsure of how this conversation would continue.

"Dad.", she quietly answered.

At least she'd called him 'dad'. He'd feared worse – there had been a time she'd called him 'Jack', aware of how much it would hurt him.

Kim's heart had skipped when she'd seen him standing there. She wanted to be angry, to give him the cold shoulder, or at least act like his absence had hurt her. It had. But deep down, she was just glad to see him again. She could have ignored him, or made some cutting remark, but as soon as their eyes met, all those thoughts faded. She noticed right away that he looked better. The dark circles that had once hung beneath his eyes were gone, his pupils looked normal, and the slight tremor she used to pick up on, the one that hinted at withdrawal, wasn't there.
He seemed… well rested. She wanted to believe him, to believe the promise he had made two weeks ago that he was getting clean, that he was serious about it, but she'd seen too many movies, read too many movies and knew one or two people who'd told her about the friend of a friend. She wanted to trust him, but she wanted more than words. She needed proof, something to reassure her that he was really back on track. Still, as she stood there, holding Angela in her arms, she decided she'd at least give him a chance. She owed him that much.

Angela shifted slightly, still asleep, and Kim gave Jack a look that said: don't wake her. He nodded and stepped back without a word, letting her unlock the door. She moved inside, carefully balancing the sleeping child, and Jack followed quietly. For now, she decided that she'd let him in.

Audrey walked through the front door of her apartment, exhausted from work. She slipped off her heels and glanced at her watch, mentally calculating the time difference between Washington D.C. and California. It was almost six on the East Coast, three hours earlier at the West Coast. Well, calling Jack in the evenings wasn't the problem anyway. Calling in the morning was. Looking at the phone around mid-day was, calculating back and thinking if he was already awake.

Her fingers hovered over the secure line phone on the table. She hesitated for only a second before picking it up and dialing his number. She didn't even try to hide from herself how much she looked forward to these calls. Talking to him had become the best part of her day. Half a year ago, they'd very soon developed a rhythm: they'd talked, every night, for almost two weeks. She felt like they were getting back into that pattern, quickly. She listened to the phone ring, expecting him to pick up after a couple of tones. When he didn't, a small wave of disappointment washed over her.

She left the phone on the table, just in case he called back. Maybe he was busy. Maybe something had come up. But she still felt a little deflated. Audrey wasn't sure when it had happened, but she had started to get that familiar flutter in her stomach whenever she thought about Jack. She hated admitting it, even to herself. What was she thinking? Jack Bauer, a man thousands of miles away, recovering from addiction, who had only been a one-night stand. She wouldn't go down that road. At work, she had even evaded him, when he'd been in D.C., a month ago. She was a high level policy advisor, and she couldn't allow any rumors to come up.

No, she reminded herself, her mind speaking now instead of her stomach: It wasn't about attraction. She had a responsibility to him, she had made a promise, half a year ago, and she'd keep it. She'd been there, watching as he descended into the self-destructive spiral that led to his addiction. She should've stopped him. Instead, she had stood by and, in some ways, enabled him. This was her way of making things right.

Suddenly, her phone rang, and Audrey's heart leapt. She immediately smiled and rushed back into the living room, expecting to see Jack's number on the secure line display. But it wasn't that phone ringing. Her private phone buzzed on the table, and when she glanced at the screen, her smile faded. The display read: Paul.

The warm feeling she'd had moments ago, those butterflies, twisted into a knot in her stomach. She hadn't spoken to Paul in a while, and the idea of talking to him now filled her with an unexpected sense of dread. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone, trying to steady her voice as she answered.

Jack stood in the hallway, watching as Kim gently laid Angela into her crib. The room had initially been a study, but within the past weeks, it had been transformed into a nursery. He couldn't help but think how natural Kim looked as a mother. She'd be great at it one day, and the thought brought him a small sense of happiness. He hadn't dared to think about the future, in a really long time.

As Kim softly closed the door behind her, Jack asked, "How is Chase?"

"He's back in the hospital. They needed to perform another surgery," she replied, her voice sounded tired and Jack figured that she'd just come from visiting Chase at the hospital.

A knot tightened in Jack's stomach. He didn't know how to respond. The guilt hit him like it always did. He'd hacked off Chase's arm to save his life, but that didn't make the memory any easier. He had apologized more times than he could count, and everyone, Kim included, had told him it was the only decision he could have made. It had to be done. But the weight of it never left him. He could still see the picture of Chase, sitting at the table, fastening his belt around his arm. He admired the young agent for his bravery.

Kim walked into the living room and gestured toward the couch. "I'll get us some coffee."

Jack sat down. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent cup of coffee. Maybe the one at Starbucks, with Audrey? When she returned with two mugs, she sat down across from him, her eyes searching his face before finally asking, "How have you been?"

There was something in her tone - an edge of reproach, even though she was trying to sound neutral. He understood why. He had disappeared from her life for weeks without a word.

"It's been a weird time," he admitted. "I've been to rehab."

"Rehab?" Kim's eyes widened, genuinely surprised. "Last time you said…"

"I lied," Jack cut her off, deciding that the truth was his only option now. He took a sip of the coffee, before continuing. "I wanted to do it alone, but I…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain it. He didn't even fully understand it himself. Why hadn't he been able to quit? What had kept him tethered to the drugs?

"And you're not lying now?" Kim's voice was soft but firm, the doubt clear.

"No," Jack replied simply, looking her straight in the eye.

"It's hard to believe you, Dad. You just show up after three weeks and…"

"I know," Jack interrupted her again, knowing he owed her more. She wanted proof. He needed to give her something real. "Just come and visit me there, if you don't believe me. I've been clean for two weeks now." His stomach clenched as he said it. He had never wanted Kim to know about his addiction, let alone see the place where he was fighting it. The idea of her witnessing this part of his life unsettled him. He had spent so long hiding it from her, from everyone.

A few days ago, the psychologist at rehab had asked him that same question again: why didn't he want to share his success with anyone? Because to Jack, it didn't feel like recovery. It didn't feel like a victory.

"Okay. I will," Kim said, her face softening with relief. The tension between them lifted, just a little. She was clearly glad to see some proof that her father's life might finally be on the right path.

"What made you decide to go to rehab? You always said you didn't want to," Kim curiously asked.

Jack's thoughts immediately drifted to Audrey. It had been her persistence, her presence, that had ultimately convinced him to go. Let's face it: she had taken him by surprise, overwhelmed him, had just dragged him there. Without her, he doubted he would have made that decision on his own. But he didn't want to bring up Audrey's name. Not here, not with Kim. Their relationship had been fragile since Teri's death, and any mention of other women always seemed to stir something unresolved between them.

He opted for a half-truth. "A friend from DOD convinced me." The way he said it, he knew Kim would assume it was a male friend.

"Tell him I thank him, next time you see him," Kim said, happily.

Jack nodded, slightly smiling. He didn't correct her. He watched as her smile widened, and suddenly this felt like a fresh start.

As Jack arrived back at his room in rehab, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Today had been filled with difficult conversations, and he knew more were likely on the horizon. But at least one of the hardest was behind him: talking to Kim. It hadn't been easy, but it was done.

Still, there was one conversation he looked forward to, one that was the opposite of all the others. It was his lifeline, a source of comfort amidst the chaos. The whole drive back from Kim's house, he had smiled at the thought of it. Calling Audrey. There was something about it that made him feel good—something he couldn't quite put into words, but it was there, steady, warm.

He had parked the beat-up station wagon a mile away from rehab, like always, too embarrassed to be seen with it. Funny. He never thought he'd care about something as trivial as what kind of car he drove. But this car reeked of his old life, and he didn't want that stench following him inside. He walked the last stretch back to the center, carrying a bag of clothes this time, so he wouldn't be stuck in the standard-issue white T-shirts and sweatpants all day.

Once in his room, he threw the bag onto the bed, locked the door, and immediately pulled the secure phone from the nightstand drawer. One missed call—she had already called two hours ago. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly half past eight in Washington, D.C., but something told him it wouldn't matter. He knew she'd pick up.

After three rings, she answered. "Hey," she said.

"Hey." Jack smiled to himself. It was almost funny how familiar their greetings had become, even though they didn't really know each other that well. But still, it felt natural.

"How are you?" she asked.

Jack didn't usually like that question, but from Audrey, it felt different. "I'm really great. Not kidding." He lay back on the bed, eyes closed, letting the sound of her voice wrap around him. He couldn't wait to share everything that had happened.

"Tell me about it." Audrey's day had been exhausting—work was stressful, her colleagues were irritating, and the conversation with Paul was still weighing on her. She was ready for some good news.

"They almost gave me a cavity search here," Jack laughed.

"What? That doesn't sound funny," Audrey said, a hint of concern creeping into her voice. "Why?"

"In the end, they settled for a drug test. I'd been gone for ten hours after telling them I was going for a quick run." Jack took a breath, ready to dive into the real story.

"But you...?" Audrey trailed off, waiting for him to continue.

"I went back to Pacoima today. To my place," he said. "Found out it got robbed."

Audrey was even more puzzled now. "Is that something good?"

"No. But it doesn't matter," Jack said, his tone softening. He knew he needed to cut through the banter and get to what had really been on his mind. "I went running first, but somehow I ended up getting closer and closer to that place. So, I decided to go there. I figured eventually, I had to face reality again. I can't keep myself locked up here forever and expect everything to magically be fine when I leave."

"Yeah. Figured that. How did it go?"

"I went to see Kim. Hadn't seen her in three weeks. I remember calling her the night before I almost OD'd. I told her I was already going through detox back then."

"You lied to her."

"Yes. Today I told her the truth."

"How much of it?"

Jack smiled. Audrey saw right through him, as if she could read his mind. She'd figured that even when he claimed to tell the truth, he often held something back. She could read him better than he was willing to admit, she had that gift of getting straight to the point, while his thoughts were still circling.

"She's going to visit me here, tomorrow," Jack said, his voice calm but with an underlying tension.

"So, she'll get proof that you're really in rehab?" Audrey asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Yeah." Jack's reply was short.

"Sounds…" Audrey hesitated, waiting for him to finish the sentence she'd started. She initially wanted to say 'nice,' but that didn't feel right. Knowing Jack, she understood this situation wasn't something he wanted. He wasn't the type to show his vulnerabilities, to let people in when he was hurting. He would have probably preferred to come back a month later, fully recovered, and simply tell them he'd been okay all the way long. He was someone who licked his wounds in private, never showing anyone how deep they were.

"Intimate," Jack finished for her, sensing what she was thinking. That was exactly how it felt to him. Kim meant everything to him, and he'd die for her without hesitation, but having her see him like this—seeing him in rehab—felt more personal than he wanted their relationship to be. He didn't mind protecting her, but opening up to her? That was something different, something he wasn't sure he could do.

Audrey recognized what he wasn't saying. She knew Jack well enough by now. "Why?" she asked.

"Why what?" Jack replied, his guard instinctively rising.

"Why does it feel too intimate?" she pressed gently.

"I didn't say that," Jack countered, though his tone suggested otherwise.

"Yes, you did, somehow," Audrey said, refusing to let him dodge the truth. "Haven't you ever asked yourself why you don't want anyone to see your weaknesses?"

Jack fell silent for a moment, his thoughts drifting back through years of keeping his emotions locked up. "Others have," he finally admitted.

"Others have asked you that question?" Audrey asked, curious.

"Yeah."

"Like who?" she pushed.

Jack let out a breath, the hint of a sneer on his face. "Like marriage counselors. That damn psychiatrist at CTU." He could have kept listing names—especially women who had tried to get past his walls—but he stopped himself. "Don't make me put your name on that list."

Audrey chuckled softly, meeting his sneer with her own. "I feel like I'm already on it," she teased, hoping she hadn't crossed a line. She didn't want to be another person he shut out. She wanted him to keep talking, to keep letting her in, even if it was difficult for him.

"How has your day been?" Jack asked, his voice casual, but Audrey could see through his blunt attempt to change the topic. Still, she didn't mind. It felt nice to be asked. Nobody had bothered to ask her that in a long time. Even Paul, back when they were still together, had stopped caring enough to ask how her day had gone.

"Work," she replied, keeping it brief. She left out the part where she had spent half the day googling PTSD symptoms and reading about the unhealthy patterns that often showed up in veterans like Jack. "Some colleagues, and the beginning of a turf war." She thought of Janice and the tension simmering in the office. "My ex-husband called two hours ago, and I had better not answered the phone." Paul's voice echoed in her mind, his attempt to convince her to come to some party that weekend.

Audrey paused, her gaze drifting around her apartment. "And for the past two hours, I've been lying on the bed, flipping through magazines that'll just make me hate myself when I should've used the time better." Her eyes landed on the ugly black furniture that loomed in the room, left behind by the last tenant—a man, alone, probably just out of a breakup himself. The apartment still felt like it belonged to someone else, just like her life lately felt disconnected from who she thought she was.

"Sounds nice," Jack teased, sensing a shift in the conversation. He was just relieved they had moved off the more uncomfortable topics. He still loved hearing Audrey's voice, though, and now he was stretched out on his bed, eyes closed, letting the warmth of her presence over the phone fill him. "Tell me more."

"About what?"

"You pick. Start with the worst thing."

She laughed. "Then you owe me one, Bauer."

"Okay," he said softly, not realizing she'd take it as a promise—one she'd later hold him to.

Audrey hesitated, trying to decide what the worst part of her day really was. The tension with Janice, who had been cold ever since she found out Audrey's father was the new Secretary of Defense? No, she didn't want to mention that to Jack. He didn't even know her father was the Secretary, and she liked that about their conversations. It made her feel normal, like he saw her as just a regular person without the political baggage. She felt a small pang of guilt for holding that secret while Jack had opened up so much to her.

"My ex-husband called. He wants me to go to some charity event this Saturday with him."

Jack was a little taken aback by her phrasing. "Your ex-husband? I thought you said you were still married."

"I am, yeah," she sighed, feeling the frustration rise. "Well, then call him my still-husband." She hated that term.

"Why would he invite you? He wants you back?" Jack asked, feeling an unexpected tightness in his stomach. He had always known that Audrey wasn't his, that she had been married all along. It was a thought he had shut down long ago, knowing it was crazy to even entertain the idea of him and Audrey being more than just a one night thing. But still, the knot in his stomach grew as she talked about Paul.

"No, he doesn't. I probably need to tell you a few things about him. He's… a tech guy, a businessman. He owns a few companies here and in Europe." Audrey tried to give Jack a clearer picture of Paul, but instead, the image only made the knot tighter in Jack's stomach. He should have known. Audrey was way out of his league. A woman like her obviously deserved a husband like that. He was missing at least a couple of zeros in his bank account to even think about her. Yet, despite all that, he'd had her. But that didn't bring him any satisfaction. If anything, it made him feel like a temporary distraction, someone she'd used because she could. He resented that world she came from, where people like Paul walked effortlessly above him.

Audrey sighed, breaking the silence. "There's this saying: once you turn forty and don't have a wedding ring, you're not part of the club anymore."

"Is that so?" Jack replied, his voice flat.

"Yeah, that's what they say," she muttered, frustration in her tone. "And I think they're right."

"What makes you believe that bullshit?" Jack asked, his voice sharp, cutting through her self-doubt.

Audrey hesitated, searching for the right words. Ever since she and Paul had split, things had changed. The men treated her differently, and the women looked at her like she was some kind of threat, a predator who might steal their husbands, to replace her own. "People have been different ever since the breakup, and word got around. I can feel it."

"Isn't it just your own insecurity making you see ghosts where there are none?"

"No, I don't think so." She explained her earlier thoughts, about the way she'd been treated, and then added, "I don't think it's any different for Paul, either. He's worried people will see the breakup as a sign of weakness. If he can't hold his marriage together, how's he supposed to hold his businesses together?"

"That's bullshit," Jack said bluntly.

"That's the real world, Jack. The one without guns, the one with checkbooks."

"Probably that's why I never liked it."

Audrey paused, thinking over his words. Jack was so different from the men she knew. He didn't care about status, money, or appearances. Talking to him about her world made her realize how small her problems seemed in comparison to his, how much perspective he brought.

"So if he doesn't want you back," Jack began, his voice even, "he just wants you to act like you're still the happy couple?"

Again, he had hit the nail on the head. "Yes."

"And it's not just a ruse to trick you into... well, you know what."

She laughed. "No. He'd have to play this a lot nicer if that was his plan." Audrey lay in bed, closing her eyes, her smile softening. She loved talking to Jack, even if they were discussing Paul. "I'm done with him," she said, and as she did, that warm feeling returned, stronger than before.

Jack felt something similar. Hearing those words—I'm done with him—was strangely comforting. He, too, was lying in bed, the knot in his stomach loosening. But he chided himself. Silly boy, he thought. This leads nowhere. Stop it. Zeros. Always remember the missing zeros.

"Have you done it before?" he asked her.

"Done what?"

"Playing the happy couple."

"No," she admitted.

"It's harder than you think," Jack sighed. "I did it quite a few times." His mind drifted back to his days with Teri, especially the later, more difficult years.

"Why did you do it? Business?" Audrey tried to tease him, but when Jack mentioned Kim, she instantly regretted the joke.

"We had a child," Jack explained. "There's a never-ending list of events you have to attend as the happy family." He thought of the birthday parties, school plays, parent-teacher meetings, and dinners with Teri's family. "We did it for Kim. For a long time, she didn't even realize we were... broken up somehow."

Audrey let that sink in before daring to ask, "And how was it, playing the happy couple?"

Jack thought back. It hadn't always been bad. Sometimes, pretending brought them closer, even if only for a short time. "Sometimes, it led to sex," he admitted. "A short reunion that could last anywhere from a couple of hours to a month." He sighed, sorting through the memories—some good, most not. "Then there were nights when we couldn't wait for Kim to go to bed so we could go our separate ways again."

Audrey was quiet, absorbing his words, imagining the weight of it all. Jack continued, "There were worse nights. Some where we didn't even make it home before the fighting started. Kim would end up crying in the backseat, and I'd just get out of the car and walk away." His mind lingered on one particular night, driving back from Teri's sister's house in Santa Barbara. "It got easier with time."

"Easier?" Audrey echoed, shocked by the honesty in his voice. "How come?"

"You learn how to play the role," Jack said, his voice quieter now. "The first few times, you still carry all the emotions with you. But after a year or two…" He trailed off, taking a deep breath. "It just felt like going on a mission." Some nights, the act of being a happy couple felt like another covert op—get in, play the part, gather the information, and leave. Don't get attached. He'd done it before. Too many times.

Audrey lay in bed, letting Jack's words sink in. She wondered how many real missions he had faced over the years, and whether this coming Saturday would be her first—how many more there would be, she didn't know.

Jack, sensing that the mood had shifted after sharing his difficult memories, tried to lift the conversation. "It doesn't always end badly, Audrey. Most of the time it's just a little annoying. If you follow some ground rules, nothing will go wrong."

"What rules?"

"Anything related to the past is off-limits. Saying sorry or apologizing is a no-go. No one ever accepts a simple apology—it just makes people freak out. And when you're with other people, get them talking about themselves."

"Is that last one from the CIA playbook?" she teased him.

"Yeah, but as I said, it works. Just like any other mission."

"Then I'll have my first mission, Agent Bauer, this Saturday," Audrey replied, laughing with him.

Jack chuckled. "Great. What's the mission objective?" He was expecting something along the lines of a family dinner, golf-club party—nothing too unusual. But what she said next caught him off guard.

"Clinton Initiative Charity Ball. Paul's meeting a few defense contractors from McLennan-Forster. Some software project."

Jack immediately tensed. This didn't sound like a casual event. An ex-president's charity ball was the upper-class DC community that he usually had to protect. These were the events that got targeted by terrorists, because they'd make the news. His instincts kicked in. "So, Paul wants to show off how good his connections to a senior DOD policy advisor are?"

He had cut right to the core of the situation, as always. Audrey was impressed. She had underestimated him; Jack had an uncanny ability to tie together loose threads and see the bigger picture with only a few details. And he didn't even know her father was the Secretary of Defense. If he had, he would have likely figured out even faster why Paul wanted her by his side—why he wasn't eager for a divorce now, when their marriage could open important business doors.

"Yeah," she admitted with a sigh. "He just wants me there to show me off."