“I can’t really cook,” she said with a nervous shrug. “But I can probably make you a sandwich or something.”
“I looked in your fridge when I did a sweep of this place. You have three eggs and a jar of expired mayonnaise. I don’t think I’m that desperate.”
He located a spoon and considered getting a bowl for himself, but she pushed the container a little closer, so he sat next to her and took a spoonful, his empty stomach enjoying the rich decadence. She wiggled a little more in her chair before pulling her ankles up to her thighs to make herself more comfortable. Without looking at him, she asked, “Why do you call me Victoria when all the other agents call me Ms. Bradford? I thought you were all about being professional?”
“Fair question,” he conceded with a nod. “I made the conscientious effort to call you that to maintain my authority. But if it’s important to you, I’ll call you Ms. Bradford, so long as you understand that it doesn’t change anything about the power dynamics of our relationship.”
“No,” she said slowly, licking the ice cream off the back of her spoon. “I don’t mind. It’s fine.”
“I’m really not a monster,” he said seriously. “I’m more than willing to listen to what you have to say, but I’m going to make the final decision when it comes to your safety. As long as you agree to that, we’ll get along just fine.”
“And what if I don’t?” There wasn’t a hint of a nasty tone. “What if I do what I want, whenever I want? Like right now, what if I told you that I called my friend Amanda on the phone a few minutes ago, and she’s on her way over here?”
Cruz arched an eyebrow with an expression that he knew darn well would shake her up. Turning away miserably, she dropped the spoon and pushed away from the table. “Did you?” he asked darkly. “I figured we’d have this conversation, sooner or later, but I admit that I thought we’d make it until daylight.”
“Fine,” she conceded with a guilty shrug. “I admit that I called her, but I didn’t invite her over. I just wanted to see how you’d react. Don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry.”
He’d been prepared for the raging tyrant who’d terrorized the White House for years, but she’d pulled such an innocent, naughty move that he wasn’t sure how to react. “Look,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t relish the idea of spanking you. So long as you understand, the next time, you won’t have that nice layer of clothing over your butt. Amanda Grant has already been vetted, and you can call her anytime you want. Just give me a heads up before you invite her over. I don’t want to shoot anybody accidently, especially a senator’s daughter.”
But the first part of that simple statement was a lie. He wouldn’t mind turning Victoria Bradford over his knee to deliver a few sensual smacks, gauging her reaction to the discipline by sliding his finger along her wet pussy, but the little shit looked at him with a Cheshire cat grin like she knew his secrets. “Do you relish the idea of spanking any women?” she asked in the same teasing tone his sisters used when asking him if he had a girlfriend.
“That,” he said firmly, tapping her nose with the back of his spoon, “is none of your business. Remember a few simple rules, and we’ll get along fantastically. I need you home at a decent hour, no drinking in a public—”
“Wait,” she interrupted. “Every time I talk to you, you’ve got some crazy new rule. Why this no drinking in public sh—stuff? That’s another rule that should be beyond your paygrade.”
“You didn’t let me finish. No drinking in a public nightclub or bar. It’s too hard in a crowded scene to watch your drink. And for right now, everything’s my responsibility. A glass of wine or a drink at a restaurant is fine, but you need to stay in control. Your boyfriend will have to understand.”
“Oh.” She reflected quietly, but her guilty expression confused him. “I guess I get that. And I guess I should also mention that I don’t actually have a boyfriend. I haven’t dated anybody for years. They were just guy friends I knew would drive my father crazy. Especially Dustin. When my dad found out about the drug conviction, I knew that he’d want to pull out the army.”
Cruz stared at her until she shuddered. “Stop looking at me like that,” she complained. “It’s like you’re visualizing me over your knee. New deal, here. I’ll behave moving forward, but you can’t hold me accountable for anything I’ve done in the past. And keep that look for something really serious because it’s... unsettling.”
“Fine,” he agreed with a laugh, pleased with her overall change in attitude. “But we aren’t just playing some game to make your father’s life easier, although I’ll never understand why you’d want to mess with a guy who has so much on his plate. There are dangers out there much more serious than a few smacks to your backside. It’s not just enemy countries with deep pockets that we have to worry about. There are dozens of domestic fringe groups who’d like to make a name for themselves, and they don’t play by any rules.”
“I know,” she said sadly, wiping a lone tear from her cheek. “No matter what you think, Agent Cruz, I’m not stupid. I’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s the only reason why I’m agreeing to this crazy plan. And I never set out to make his life harder. It’s just, well, it’s just been hard. Period. And I really am sorry that I hurt you in the West Wing. I was out of line, and I know it.”
“Apology accepted,” he said with a nod, “because you need to hear that to move forward.” He gave the next sentence a lot of thought before continuing. “Look, everybody just calls me Cruz. We’re going to spend a lot of time together over the next few months. Would you rather call me that?”
Nodding slowly, she sniffled a little. “Thank you, Cruz. I think I’d like that.”
They spent another half hour or so, finishing the ice cream and cleaning up before Victoria returned to her room, but the door remained ajar and a tiny light burned from her bathroom. As much as he was pleased that she was taking the threats seriously, he was subdued by the reality that the poor little thing was frightened in her own home.
He stayed on alert during the night, and she was still sound asleep under a pile of blankets when Bukowski arrived the next morning to relieve him, followed shortly after by Richard London, a fifteen-year Secret Service veteran who’d openly criticized the agency’s decision to put MacMillan in charge of the White House. Despite the fact that Cruz had agreed with him, their relationship was strictly professional.
“Cruz,” he acknowledged without keeping his voice down. Looking toward the half-open bedroom door, he added, “How was your first night babysitting? I appreciate all the changes you’ve made. We usually sit in the hallway on this assignment, but it’ll be nice to have a more comfortable chair.”
While he spoke, Victoria came into the living room in the same cartoon-themed t-shirt she’d gone to bed in, but she blushed deeply at the sight of the newcomers and slipped into a pair of jeans that had been resting lazily over a chair. Crossing to the kitchen, she acknowledged the newcomers with a miserable nod before starting some coffee in a fancy single serve machine.
None of this was fair. A kid like Victoria should have the right to walk around their own place naked if they wanted to. He scowled before turning back to London. “It was peaceful,” he said, hoping to ease her discomfort with a little professionalism. “What are your plans for today, Ms. Bradford?”
“I really wasn’t planning on much,” she said with a shrug. “Being unemployed has its advantages. I thought I’d meet some friends for lunch and maybe take a yoga class this afternoon. I can walk to both of them.”
“That sounds fine, but take the car the White House is sending over this morning. It’s less conspicuous than your Audi. And wear the sunglasses and a hat; that blonde hair of yours gives you away like a spotlight. Leave the building through the back door, too, and maybe we can avoid the media.”
Turning to the agents, he added, “During the daytime, one of you should post in the hallway and try to give Ms. Bradford as much privacy as you can. When will River
s be back?”
“He’s out of town until next Monday,” warned London. “But he isn’t going to be happy with this assignment. He put his time in with this one last year and said he was done.”
Victoria cringed, but Cruz rankled. “Watch your mouth, London. If you can’t remain professional, you can leave right now. Ms. Bradford deserves that level of respect.”
London looked surprised at the reprimand, but backed down with a nod. Bashing Victoria Bradford had been a common pastime for his office, but that was going to stop. He couldn’t protect her from all the negativity in her life, but he’d damn well step up where he could. And if he had anything to say about it, Richard London wasn’t getting anywhere near her after this shift.
Victoria’s mouth was open slightly, but she pulled her shoulders back with a little sign of strength. “Thank you, Agent Cruz. I’m sure that today will be fine.”
Chapter Six
A few weeks later, Victoria sat opposite Amanda Grant in the tiny restaurant on 18th street in the up and coming Adams Morgan neighborhood a few blocks east of Woodley Park. She tried hard to focus on her best friend’s long-winded tale, but struggled to take her gaze off Cruz sitting a few tables away. Even in khakis and a neatly trimmed golf shirt, everything about him screamed Secret Service. Hell, he’d probably still look like an authority figure in a bathing suit. She closed her eyes to process that image, those smooth shoulders and bulging biceps wrapped in a little coating of sunscreen to glisten in the heat.
But those dreams needed to be defeated with a cold shower and a huge quantities of sugar, a staple in her life since this whole crazy plan started. His continued insistence that she sleep with the door unlocked had pretty much made her life an open book for the US Secret Service. Even under the covers in her darkened room, she had no decorum of privacy or a place to sneak a few blissful minutes of release with her pale pink vibrator, leaving her... unfinished... by every stretch of the imagination.
She forced herself to reconnect to the tail end of Amanda’s chattering. “And then,” her best friend gushed with a giggle, “Trevor said, ‘You gotta be kidding me. I never would have thought of that myself!’”
Victoria shook her head to clear the cobwebs and offered a fake smile. Most of the pretty brown-haired woman’s stories didn’t need a long dialog to get the full gist, and Amanda had developed an infatuation with the blond-haired, blue-eyed Trevor King when they were still in college. As the daughter of a prominent senator from California, Amanda had almost as hard of a time as Victoria finding people she could trust, and the good-looking publisher suited her petite frame.
“What about you?” asked Amanda, leaning forward. “Did you talk to your father about acting as his hostess at the state dinner next month? He really shouldn’t keep calling strangers to fill that job. You’d be great at it.”
Victoria shook her head with a sigh. “Moving back to DC after graduation was a mistake. We should have gone to Boston and opened up the townhouse. I probably could have gotten a job up there.”
“Why?” snapped Amanda angrily. “You really can’t work anyplace respectable as long as your father is president. Giving you some job in his administration is the least he can do, even if it is nonpaying.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the person he runs to when he needs something. Besides, he’s been filling those hostess responsibilities with prominent women politicians for so long that they’d probably stage a coup if I tried to take over.” Staring off sadly, she added, “I should get the check. I need to get home.”
“What are you, like ten years old?” Amanda finished her chardonnay with a frown. “It’s not even dark. Besides, when are you going to start having a good time again? Go home and change. Let’s go to that new club in Arlington tonight. We haven’t been out in ages.”
“I... I really can’t. My security detail wants me home before it gets dark. The job’s a lot easier if they have a longer sight range, but this whole thing won’t go on forever, honest.” Under Cruz’s instructions, she hadn’t been totally honest about the most recent threats; instead, she’d offered a lot of vague excuses about the ‘new rules’ her father had laid out.
For the last few weeks, Amanda hadn’t been giving her too much grief, but tonight was different. “Come on, Vic.” Adding a fake pair of quotations, she continued to nag. “Let’s ‘go’ to the ladies’ room and ditch this guy. This club’s really exclusive. A lot of famous people hang there. They won’t let the press anywhere near the place.”
Before she could respond, she caught his obvious stare-down, and his nonverbal message forced her to look away with a heated blush. He’d done nothing to scold or even rush her, but something about him always made her feel like a little girl who’d been caught in a lie. Since their initial agreement, there had been no serious tantrums on her part or spankings on his. Mostly because all he’d had to do was to arch his eyebrow or run his hands along his belt if she showed a tinge of brattiness, and she’d frozen.
In all honesty, however, she was enjoying the respite from her daily dose of drama. She’d grown to look forward to his time on duty, having easy conversations with him on anything from politics to sports to the newest blockbuster movie release. Cruz had turned out to be a good cook as well, and he’d brought the ingredients quite a few times to make a meal for both of them, always heated with spicy peppers or flavored with an abundance of fresh herbs.
The waiter brought her check, and Victoria pushed past her frustrations to smile politely when handing him the cash for both meals. “I don’t need change. Have a nice day.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bradford,” he responded politely. “I hope you have a nice day, as well.”
Victoria sighed. Just once she’d like to spend an entire day on some distant planet where nobody knew who she was. When she got to her feet, Cruz stood a simultaneous second behind her, ready to go without missing a beat. Taking in the four corners of the small restaurant in a quick glance, he spoke quietly into his wire, probably to signal Bukowski to get the car.
Amanda shifted her weight to one foot and pointed openly at his handsome frame. “Now, I’d like to see that in nothing but a towel. Look at that ass.”
“Yeah, I gotta admit I’ve had that daydream, too,” she responded, giggling like a teenager. “Maybe some nice sunscreen to smooth off that skin?”
“Then go for it,” said Amanda, “unless he’s gay, and that’s a fate that no god could do to women. He’s with you, like, all the time.”
The unsettling arousal that followed any conversation with or about Agent Cruz returned, accelerating the swelling in her channel to an achy need. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, trying to make it sound like she didn’t care. “He works for my father. There’s no way in hell I’m going to bed with him.”
“Well, maybe we can talk him into having a drink with us before we go back? I’m loyal to Trevor, but I’m not immune to a few cocktails with a handsome hunk of ass.”
Amanda walked up to Cruz and innocently wrapped her arms around his, rubbing her hand along his bicep with a giggle. “Stop, Ms. Grant,” he said firmly, pulling his arm out her reach. “I need both of my arms to do the job.”
She walked away with a grumpy snarl, and Victoria was embarrassed for her before she remembered that she’d acted a lot like that herself, and the bratty display didn’t look nearly as self-righteous as it always felt when she was getting snippy. “Sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I’m going to call it a night. I really don’t want a drink or anything else.”
She walked Amanda to her Mercedes while Cruz stayed the requisite few steps behind them like some sort of oversized shadow. As Bukowski came to the curb with the nondescript borrowed car from the White House auto pool, Amanda pulled into heavy traffic with a tap of her horn and a wave out the sunroof, effectively cutting off a well-dressed couple already in the crosswalk with a fluffy black dog. The young professional smacked the hood of her car with a shout before Amanda continued, forcing a delive
ry van and a bicyclist to a complete stop, the honking of horns and flagrant obscene hand signals generating more dramatic effect. Victoria had to smile; her best friend was a pistol.
“She needs to learn to drive,” said Cruz, breaking his silent protection mode. “I don’t want you in a car with her. Do you understand?”
His rules and expectations were never ending, and she rankled slightly as a crowd of college-something kids came toward them, probably on their way to one of Adams Morgan’s trendy bar scenes. She stared wistfully, listening to their laughter and all the other signs of a carefree world before he touched her elbow to subtly reintroduce her to reality. “I’m not going to ask you again. Do you understand my expectations? I don’t want you in a car with Amanda driving.”
“Actually,” she said, trying very, very hard to watch her tone. He’d proven to be very sensitive when it came to her tone of voice. “You never did ask me. You told me what to do, and then you didn’t ask what I had to say. But fine. I will not get into a car with my best friend who actually has a completely clean driving record.”
“I’ve seen her driving record,” he responded without humor. “And if you don’t count the DUI and the three speeding tickets in the last five years that her father had swept under the rug, I guess you can call it clean. But I’m not changing my mind. Are we clear?”
“Fine. Again.” She hated being wrong, or rather proven wrong. She’d known about all of those incidents and had been in the car for two of them. Apparently the Secret Service had a pretty good vacuum system to get the dirt on people.
“Can we walk home today?” she asked quickly. “It’s a beautiful evening, and it won’t get dark for another hour. It’s not too hot and the rush hour is over... and maybe we can even walk through the zoo. It’s only a few blocks out of the way, and it isn’t even prime tourist season anymore.”
Under His Protection Page 6
