Chapter 57 FORTY-FIVE

—Mabel—

Memories of that night in his penthouse played in my head.

Heat crept up my cheeks.

I swallowed hard and glanced across the tinted windows as the convoy glided across the streets of Washington.

The children chanted happily nursery rhymes. “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,” “Twinkle, Twinkle...