Read Online The King of Fear: Part Two: A Garrett Reilly Thriller by Drew Chapman - Free Book Online

that. Harris felt sin came in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes just letting your eyes stray was all it took. That was a high standard to hold himself to, but it was nice to have high standards in something, after all. Wading through the stench of American politics took a lot out of him, and he needed his morality intact.
    He finished his taco, downed his Diet Pepsi, then wiped any traces of hot sauce from his lips. He stood, checked his watch, then walked past the young, blond-haired woman, careful not to stare again, and waved good-bye to Jose as he handed out another plate of enchiladas smothered in cheese. Then Harris stopped, let out a long breath, and shook his head.
    If you sin, he thought to himself, even a little, then make up for it right away with a good deed. He walked back to the young woman. “Allow me to apologize.”
    The young woman looked up at him in surprise.
    “For staring at you. I was lost in thought, but I’m sure it was intimidating. An intrusion. Please forgive me.” He bowed slightly in apology, then started off again.
    “Do I know you from someplace?”
    Harris paused. That was one of the perks—or drawbacks—of being a US congressman. You were a celebrity, if only a minor one. “I’m Len Harris. I’m a congressman. From the Eleventh District.”
    “Oh,” the young woman said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I thought . . .”
    “You thought I was really important?” Harris smiled. “Not just a politician?”
    The young woman laughed. “No. You reminded me of someone else. From a while ago. But you’re not him.” She reddened slightly, her checks flushing, as if the thought of that person, that memory, was dear to her, and just ever so slightly sensual. A lover, perhaps? An ex-flame?
    An erotic pulse ran the length of Harris’s body, from his head to his toes. I wish I were him, Harris thought to himself. He must have been a lucky man. “Sorry to let you down.”
    “You didn’t.” The young woman smiled—an open, trusting smile, compassionate and yet just ever so slightly inviting. “You were a gentleman. That was very nice of you. You don’t see that every day.”
    Harris beamed. Always try to do the right thing, he reminded himself. Always. “Thank you.” He noticed, for the first time, what she was reading, a paperback laid out on the table beside her food. A science fiction novel, Ender ’s Game by Orson Scott Card. Harris smiled. Ender’s Game was by far his favorite sci-fi novel of all time, and Harris liked sci-fi almost as much as he liked food. He was a bit of a geek, and not afraid to admit it. In fact, he’d gone on and on about Ender’s Game on the Twitter account he ran for his constituents. Well, actually, that his congressional aides ran. Harris didn’t have the time to be posting tweets about anything, and definitely not about science-fiction novels.
    “Great book.” Harris nodded to the paperback. “I’ve read it, cover to cover, ten times at the very least.”
    The young woman looked at Harris’s face, as if trying to discern something from it. His veracity? Sincerity? Was he trying to pick her up? “Number three for me.”
    “Then you are an incredibly well-rounded human being. You know the best places to eat, and the best things to read.”
    “This is a great spot. The food is to die for.”
    “I spend far too much time here myself.” Harris patted his stomach. “Far too much time.”
    She laughed. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Congressman. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
    “Yes, maybe.”
    He nodded good-bye to her one more time, then hurried back to his car with a mile-wide smile on his face. Those words— Maybe I’ll see you around —stayed with him all through his interview on CNN. And PBS. And the radio-station talker from San Antonio. He couldn’t figure out why exactly—something about her tone of voice, the look on her face. She seemed lodged in his brain. As he went to bed that night, his wife, Barbara, fast