Alliance

The hallways of the West Wing were dim, lit only by the sconces along the walls and the few lone lamps left on the desks of senior-level staffers. Holding her purse in one hand, she peeked into each office as she passed them. Although it was past midnight now, there were still workers milling about, mostly young aides rushing in and out the door as they sorted out their boss's desk for the morning.

When she reached the end of the hallway, she hesitated, but just for a moment. Then, she stepped into the waiting area on her left. From the doorway, she met his assistant's gaze.

"Go on," Adele said. With a quick wave of her hand, she motioned her inside before she looked back to her computer, beginning to type again. "He's waiting for you."

Moving toward the door, she mumbled a thank you.

Quietly, she stepped into his office, closing the door behind her. When she saw him behind his desk, toiling over a pile of paperwork, deep in thought, she started to regret her decision to come here. Before she had the chance to quietly slip out, without him noticing, he looked up, catching her gaze.

"Nadine," he greeted, setting the document in his hand on his keyboard. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"I know," she mumbled.

Typically, she did everything in her power to avoid finding herself in Russell Jackson's office, especially late at night when he was prone to give someone the pleasure of a good old-fashioned tongue-lashing, but she was desperate— desperate enough to come crawling to the so-called devil of D.C.

Over the rims of his glasses, Russell eyed her. "Sit," he said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Crossing the room, she obliged him and took a seat because five months ago, her carefully constructed world had started to crack, with a plane crash serving as the catalyst. She needed some control back. Tonight, she'd shown up at the front gate of the White House, believing this was the only way to get it.

"What's wrong?"

Still nervous to say what she came here to, she bought herself time by running her palms over her skirt, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles.

Should she do this?

Thinking of Vincent, she made up her mind. "Elizabeth McCord," she said, though the woman's name felt like it burned her lips. "She's not fit for this job, Russell. And you know it."

In his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not her biggest fan," he admitted as if it wasn't widely known across the capital.

"Secretary Marsh understood the need for diplomacy and the importance of subtly." Nadine laughed to herself because it didn't seem like Elizabeth knew the first thing about being subtle— she said what she wanted when she wanted. "She's not like him." Shaking her head, Nadine continued. "You and I both know that she doesn't give a flying fuck about being politically correct."

"I—" Russell started, but she felt the need to finish.

"She's a loose cannon, who also happens to have the president's ear."

Across his desk, Nadine watched him shrug one shoulder. "I agree. She's a liability," he said. Slowly, he sat up straight, grabbing for a glass. "I've been waiting for her to slip up."

"I want her gone now," she told him. "Can't you talk to Conrad? Convince him that he's made a mistake."

Russell shook his head. "Honestly, you're lucky Marsh got appointed at all. He wanted McCord from the beginning, but we talked him out of it the first go around."

Sinking back into her chair, she sucked in a breath, feeling the slightest bit defeated, but she wasn't giving up. Not when she had to work with a woman each day that she utterly despised. "Well, what do you suggest then?" Tilting her head to the side, she arched one brow. "Do you really want an ex-CIA analyst who runs cowboy operations being the face of this administration's State Department?"

With a sigh, Russell stood, pouring more scotch into his glass. "You're right. She needs to go and quick," he said. After he filled another glass, he rounded his desk, holding it out to her. "I think we have ourselves an alliance."