by DiAnn Mills
“We’re going to be busy.”
Could this get any worse? A drug addict protectee and a special agent in charge who didn’t like women on his team?
Bob turned into the parking garage of the unmarked building. Meghan noted the scowl and the way he locked his hand over the steering wheel. His attitude about this assignment hadn’t changed either.
Ash still fumed about having to deal with a woman agent. Give her a chance? He couldn’t imagine dealing with a woman’s emotions when logic and quick action were critical to their protectee’s safety. Women agents rarely lasted long. Later he’d pore over her file and find her weaknesses. He’d heard how she saved the VP’s life in Atlanta. He’d like to believe that was hype—some female reporter wanting to put another woman in the spotlight. But the VP didn’t blow smoke. Agent Connors had performed well in the line of duty. Glancing at his watch, Ash shoved the situation from his mind . . . for now.
Two minutes to 1400. His people knew how he valued punctuality.
The door opened and in filed his team of special agents, all familiar faces except Meghan Connors. An off-duty agent was at the VP’s home with Lindsay, while feds labored over the investigation to locate the caller threatening her.
“Take a seat.” He nodded a greeting at Victor, Wade, and Rick. Seasoned agents.
Lawson stuck out his hand. “Good to see you again, sir.”
Ash grasped it firmly. “Glad to have you on the team.” Lawson had worked the past three years in Houston protecting Bush Sr. His reputation spoke of integrity, but how he’d manage their protectee was another matter. If Lawson hadn’t been handpicked, Ash would wonder if he’d been demoted.
Connors reached out her hand, and he shook it while capturing her gaze. She didn’t blink or move a muscle. He’d give her credit for not being intimidated. Not yet, anyway. The agents found a seat, but Ash remained standing. He preferred it that way.
“This briefing will be quick. Vice President Hall and Press Secretary Scottard Burnette will be joining us shortly.” He pointed to the files on the table. “Each of you has an updated report on Lindsay. For those of you who aren’t aware of my style, that means you memorize everything. We leave at 0500 for Texas. A temporary team will be assigned to Lindsay until she joins us in a few days. This can’t leak. Additional information will be given to you in the morning en route. I’d—”
A knock at the door interrupted him, and Vice President Hall and his press secretary walked in. The agents stood, but the VP gestured for them to sit.
Ash studied the face of the Shield, the man who covered for President Claredon while attempting to rein in his daughter. Lines deepened across the man’s forehead and at the corners of his eyes, forming an oval from his nose to his chin. At fifty-two, the vice president shouldn’t look so haggard and worn. Considering the president’s battle with lung cancer, VP Hall could be taking over the country at a moment’s notice.
The VP moved to the front of the table. “Please, sit down. I want to talk to you agents about my daughter. Protecting her is your job. Caring for her is mine. And for this assignment, we have to work together on both fronts.”
Ash took a chair across from Agent Connors, the arrangement providing an opportunity to observe her. Red-gold hair was swept back from her face and anchored at her nape, professional and neat. Impassive expression, motionless body. He couldn’t read a thing. Someone had trained her well.
“I don’t need to explain or excuse Lindsay’s behavior.” The VP drew in a deep breath. “She’s ill and needs extensive medical care. Her mother and I have decided to remove her from DC and place her in a remote area where no one can find her. Specifically, a working ranch west of Austin, Texas. Lindsay will be under the care of Dr. David Sanchez, a psychologist, and his nurse for an indefinite amount of time.” For a moment, his shoulders slumped. Then he regained his composure. “Dr. Sanchez has experienced tremendous success in treating patients similar to Lindsay. I believe his information has been added to your files.”
“It has, sir.” Ash had read enough about Dr. Sanchez to understand the VP and his wife were taking a risk in finding a solution for Lindsay’s problem. His unorthodox methods were unconventional, and he hoped Lindsay’s health didn’t take a nosedive.
“Another critical matter is that Lindsay’s life has been threatened. I believe the problem will be solved soon. As quickly as arrangements can be made, Lindsay will be escorted to Texas. She’s not aware of this.” He glanced around the table. “Scottard, what would you like to add?”
The baby-faced press secretary poked his glasses onto his nose. “The media are going to be on this like flies on sugar once Lindsay disappears, but pacifying them is my job. I’ll announce that she collapsed at her parents’ home and is receiving medical treatment. I’ll appease them with routine updates and lure them to other areas of the country. Except for her doctor and his assistant, no one is to have contact with her but the VP and his wife.”
“And Scottard.” The VP stood. “He owns the Dancin’ Dust Ranch, and Lindsay knows him as an uncle figure. I understand there’s a truck in the garage for your use. To your advantage, a hard room is located on the first floor. Regarding Dr. Sanchez, he uses a natural, holistic approach with extensive counseling to treat cases like hers. No drugs will be administered. Some of his methods may seem peculiar to us, but I have to trust his expertise.”
Why didn’t they say she had an addiction problem? They all knew it anyway. The whole country had seen her high on The Barry Knight Show.
The vice president’s gaze swept around the table. “Take care of my little girl. Her medical condition is critical, and I’m deeply concerned that someone has threatened her.”
“We’ll not let you down.” Ash made his way to the VP’s side and shook his hand and then Burnette’s before opening the door.
Once the pair left, Ash turned to the agents. “I’m giving you a ten-minute break; then we need to discuss shifts and how we’ll occupy our time at the Dancin’ Dust. The agents in this room are going to be your buds. Get to know them.” He regretted the protocol changes with Connors, but he had no choice. “Read through the new information in your files while on break. Wade, Victor, you know Lindsay Hall as Sunshine. That will continue. You are dismissed. Connors, I need to see you alone.”
She rose and faced him. Slender, medium height. Attractive. Not what he wanted to see.
“Yes, sir.”
“You are to be with the protectee seven days a week, 0800 to 1700.”
Agent Connors lifted her chin. Intelligence registered in her brown eyes.
“I didn’t request you. Your assignment came from the VP. In my opinion, women agents are a waste of the Secret Service’s time and taxpayers’ money.”
“Obviously someone saw my merit.”
He hadn’t expected a response. “Getting on my bad side isn’t a good idea.”
“Looks like I’m already there.”
If only she’d say or do something he could use against her. Instead, she handled herself . . . like a pro. “We’ll see how long you last. Lindsay Hall will tear you to shreds.”
“So you want me to resign before I begin? Because it’s not happening.”
“Are you challenging me, Connors?”
“Do I need to? I thought we were talking about my ability to protect Lindsay Hall.” She picked up the file and smiled. “Is there anything else, sir?”
Chapter 3
Meghan listened to the helicopter blades whirl as they rose into the morning sky, leaving Lindsay’s protective detail at the Dancin’ Dust. Texas heat and dust settled on her face. Already the temps were nearing ninety on the thousand-acre ranch. The manicured grounds and Olympic-size swimming pool indicated Scottard Burnette and guests took advantage of the remote hideaway to rest and relax. The white, two-story house with its wraparound porch seemed to be the perfect place for Lindsay to recover from the abuse she’d given her body. According to Ash, the VP and his wife had joined Burn
ette often, which meant Lindsay might be familiar with the property.
Sleek quarter horses flicked their tails and ignored the Secret Service agents, exhibiting not a care in the world. But all of this peacefulness could come to an abrupt halt if Lindsay’s location leaked to those intent on inflicting harm. Drug dealers played for keeps, and taking out the VP’s daughter would show their power.
While in the shower at 0400, Meghan’s thoughts had swung from Lindsay to Ash Zinders to a possible assassin. She wondered if she could do this assignment well. Could she keep Lindsay safe and possibly influence her to fight the drug addiction and find some purpose for her life? Meghan’s batting average was zero in turning around addicts. But she wasn’t a quitter. She’d get back in the heat and take the punches.
She studied the ranch’s terrain, familiarizing herself with the shape and size of the buildings. A creek flowed to the east of the property beside a small grove of live oaks. Other than that, the land was hilly and rocky, characteristic of West Texas.
About thirty-five feet from her, a balding man in coveralls watched the goings-on. This was probably Ethan Leonard. He gestured with his hands, pointing to the road and the agents walking toward him, reminding her of a cop at a crosswalk. The operation must look like a movie to him, one he hadn’t wanted to watch. A Jack Russell terrier stood beside him, and he bent to pet the dog. A woman walked up to the man, sporting spiked, white hair—Pepper Davis, Scottard’s personal chef when he spent time here. They all had their clearances, even though the chef and the ranch hands didn’t need them for a VP’s daughter.
“We lucked out with the two ranch hands.” Bob stood beside her. “It’s a father and son, and they live in the back of the stables. Burnette swears they’re solid, the real goods.”
“From here, the stables look to be in better shape than most houses.”
Bob laughed. “I grew up in the wards of New Orleans. It is better than where I lived.” He glanced at the main house. “Guess we’d better get started.”
Meghan heard shouting and turned her attention to the man in coveralls.
“I want to know what this is all about.” The man raised his fist at Ash. “I wake up this morning to a helicopter landing. You people act like you own the place. What do you take me for? Some redneck who doesn’t have the sense to understand?”
“We’re the Secret Service team assigned to this property for the next couple of months. Would you like to see our IDs, Mr. Leonard? Mr. Burnette has given us permission to use his ranch for a protectee, and we’d welcome your cooperation.”
“I’ve seen your fancy papers, and they don’t mean squat to me.” His drawl added emphasis to every word. “Neither do your shiny badges. Handguns and assault rifles. What next?”
“Would you like for me to call Mr. Burnette? Set your mind at ease?”
“You bet I would. Me and my son take good care of the Dancin’ Dust, and I don’t ’ppreciate any of this. I take my orders from him. No one else.”
“Have you tried to contact him?”
“His office says he’s busy. Will get back to me. Frustratin’.”
“Sir, I understand. I’ve been told you and your son do a fine job of taking care of Mr. Burnette’s property.”
“You can take that to Washington and tuck it under Lincoln’s Memorial.” He lowered his fist but maintained his stance.
Ash demonstrated admirable control. Ethan Leonard had almost punched him. Not that Meghan blamed the older man. He was accustomed to a quiet, orderly world. Hard to believe Scottard Burnette hadn’t informed him about their arrival.
A younger man raced from the barn, same height and slender build. Must be Chip Leonard. “Dad, take it easy. These men are special agents for the Secret Service. Their IDs are legit.”
“Not until I hear from Mr. Burnette, they ain’t.” He waved at the woman who’d be cooking for the agents. “Hey, Pepper. You in on this too?”
Pepper had been on her way to the house, but she turned and took a step his way. “Ethan, did you let the battery run down on your cell phone again? I tried calling you on my way here last night.”
“I did, but it’s charging now. I called Mr. Burnette on Chip’s phone a few minutes ago.”
That explained the miscommunication. Scottard Burnette conducted every part of his professional life with precision, and the Leonards didn’t have a landline phone.
Meghan watched Ash pull his cell phone from his pocket. Hmm. What went on behind his sunglasses? Did he think through every scenario and have the answers to everything? A lot of folks thought so, but Meghan would wait to form her own opinion.
Ash whirled around at the five agents. “You men check out the inside.” His tone reminded her of a drill sergeant. She hid a grin. So the pressure of being the only woman on the team continued. At least she was officially one of the guys.
“Let’s get started.” Bob shifted his laptop to his left hand. “A2Z will have this handled in thirty seconds.”
Meghan followed Bob to the back door of the home and into a large and airy country kitchen.
“I’m home again. Would you look at this.” Pepper planted her hands on bony hips and cast an admiring glance around the kitchen. Its size and equipment were a gourmet chef’s dream. “I’ll be whipping up my specialties in no time at all.”
Wade pointed to an arched hallway in the far corner. “This way. Ash said we’d find an operation room back here.”
Meghan and the other agents filed past Pepper and down the arched hallway. Alcoves on both sides displayed paintings by a renowned Texas artist. Wade opened a door to a study containing a twelve-foot table for their operation. Bookcases lined two walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the swimming pool. Wade and Victor slid into chairs across from computers. It all looked great, but for sure the assignment would be boring—and probably abusive if it stayed true to form. Four weeks on and two weeks off for four agents would help them keep their sanity and a connection to the real world. Meghan and Ash weren’t among the lucky four. The VP had asked her and Ash to remain on duty until the assignment ended. Wonderful.
What a team they were. Wade Enders, the freckle-faced Caucasian from Ohio, passed the bar with a score of 97.8 percent. He and Ash shared the 1700 to 0100 shift. Wade’s wife was due to deliver their second child in the next few weeks, and he hoped the baby would wait until his weeks off for the arrival.
Victor Lee came from LA, an Asian American whose computer expertise earned him the title of one of the agency’s top hackers. He’d have the 0100 to 0900 shift with Rick Norris, a handwriting expert from Nashville.
Bob Lawson used to play linebacker for the New Orleans Saints. He had a keen mind for firearms—could take apart and put together a SIG blindfolded. He’d work with Meghan 0900 to 1700.
Meghan, the token woman, could hit a target dead on at 1,100 feet. She thought about why she’d been chosen. Possibly her stint in Atlanta when she’d brought down a shooter who had the VP as his target. The other reason she’d been selected for this assignment might not be in her records, but the VP knew.
The back door opened and creaked like an old man’s bones. “Connors, I want that door fixed now, or the next time I’ll rip it off its hinges.”
Grunt work. She headed to the kitchen, but Ash met her in the arched hallway.
“Not until I finish saying a few things.” He dropped two cell phones onto the wooden table. “Victor, run checks on Ethan and Chip Leonard and their cells. Those two are going to be a pain. Connors, before you see to that door, check on a vet. Ethan says one of their horses is foaling. The last thing we need is a local letting the media know what’s going on here.”
“Yes, sir.” She knew her job, and she understood his condescension was just warming up. “Most mares foal between 2200 and 0400. She may be in trouble.”
“If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Right now, take care of finding a vet. Keep the old man happy.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
She left, making sure the door didn’t bang behind her.
This would be a long, hot assignment.
Ash exited the hard room on the first floor off the living area. He was pleased with the windowless area designed to keep a protectee safe. Scottard Burnette had done an excellent job in stocking the room with food, water, ammunition, and medical supplies. Ash walked through the five-thousand-square-foot house, noting each room and its dimensions, the height and width of the windows, and fire exits. When Connors turned in her report about the home’s security, he wanted to make sure she completed it to his satisfaction.
Warrington said she’d proved herself in Atlanta. Ash didn’t need the reminder. Her prominence rose three months ago during a temporary assignment. Vice President Hall had been vacationing in Atlanta when a deranged man interrupted his golf game. The VP was playing the ninth hole on a Tuesday morning when a gun-wielding cab driver raced across the grounds shouting obscenities and exhibiting deadly intent. She stopped the shooter with one shot. Sure spoiled the VP’s vacation, but his high regard for her fast thinking had carried over to a commendation from the director of Secret Service. After that, Meghan Connors had become the VP’s first choice for Lindsay’s additional team. Ash had spent the wee hours of the morning reading every detail of her file. Impressive. Even admirable.
Her marksmanship rivaled his—accuracy of 99 percent at fifty feet, and she scored in the upper 2 percent during her last qualifying.
Ash stared out the window at the pastures of grazing horses and black cattle. He couldn’t rid Connors from his mind. She had a double major in communications and computer science. And she’d been a part of several sting operations while working counterfeit. Nothing but stinking glowing reports.
To aggravate him further, her good looks drew the attention of every male on the team. He’d seen it the moment she’d entered the room yesterday. That red hair could be spotted a mile away, and no disguising her hourglass figure. Great for the other agents’ egos but a distraction for the job. Another reason why women agents needed to be banned from the service. Let them show their feminine power and find a husband elsewhere.
