by Josie Brown
Unless he had something to do with it.
I look down at the water glass in front of Dominic. He hasn’t touched it.
Come to think of it, I’ll pass too.
Slowly, I lower my glass onto the table and take a deep breath. “Mr. President, I don’t think we’d be sitting here if we hadn’t. Do you?”
He thinks for a moment. Finally, he smiles. “What did you find out?”
“Our one lead went nowhere because our contact knows Xia is no longer among the living.” Gee, Lee—you knew it too.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s vital to national security that you find the culprit, at all costs—and no matter where the trail leads.”
“We feel the same way, Mr. President,” Ryan’s God-like declaration booms over us.
“I thought so. That’s why I’ve asked Todd to join us. He is my liaison to the National Security Council. Feel free to call on him for any access you’ll need for your investigation. All of the country’s resources will be at your disposal.”
Jack nods. “Will do. And as for vetting White House staff, who can we count on?”
Before Lee can answer, Todd replies, “I’ll be glad to handle that as well, Mr. President.”
Ah, such an eager little beaver.
“And who at Acme will be our point person?” Todd asks.
“Jack is the team’s mission leader,” Ryan informs him.
“I’d prefer Donna.” Lee’s tone makes it very clear that there will be no more discussion on the matter.
Okay, enough of this. Lee needs to accept the lay of the land. “As flattered as I am at your confidence in me, I may be taking a personal furlough,” I smile demurely. “Jack accepted my hand in marriage.”
Jack’s eyes, open wide with surprise, swivel in my direction. They seem to scream, Where in hell are you going with this?
My eyes answer, Trust me on this.
Lee’s smile falters. “Yes, I remember. I had the honor of being in the room at his…awakening.”
“I remember you were there, Lee. I appreciated your concern on my behalf,” Jack says.
Gee, even I believe him—well, almost.
Lee turns to him. “Had you not recovered, it would have been a great loss, both to me and to the country. You’ve always been a good friend and a strong ally.”
“We feel the same about you and the first lady—” Jack’s voice is as warm as I’ve ever heard it.
Okay, what the hell is he up to?
“—Which is why we’d be honored if you were in our wedding party.”
What?
I know it’s Ryan’s dream come true, especially if we’re to determine if Lee is, in fact, Quorum. But, to use my wedding as a trap?
Ain’t gonna happen.
So that Jack gets the message, I grind a fingernail into his side.
He grimaces, but it doesn’t shut him up. “Would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to perform the ceremony?”
Lee opens his mouth, but says nothing. Instead, he looks at me.
He is waiting for my consent.
From the moment we entered the room, my mouth has been cantilevered into a convincing grin. But Lee’s gaze is scrutinizing my eyes, as if they are hieroglyphics that hold some momentous secret.
Perhaps the truth of how I feel about him.
For that reason, I can’t glance away. Otherwise, he’ll realize that I don’t trust him.
I can’t trust him. How could I, after what I’ve just heard? After what I’ve just been through?
I deepen my gaze. The flecks of gold resemble faraway planets frozen in the ice blue galaxies of his eyes.
Whatever it is he’s seeking in mine, I pray that he sees it.
Apparently, not. His answer is a regretful shake of his head.
I realize why when he adds, “The honor is all mine.”
“Great!” Jack feigns relief with a wide open grin. “Wow! Well then, we’ve got a lot to do between now and then.”
“As soon as possible, send all the details to Eileen.” I’ve never heard such sadness in Lee’s voice. He stands up. Holding out his hand to Jack, he adds, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Babette will be thrilled too. You’re her closest friend in Hilldale.”
Following Jack’s lead, I rise too.
As the men shake hands, Lee asks, “Mind if I kiss the bride?”
Jack pauses only a second. “Not at all.”
Still stunned at all the bullshit flying around the room, I say nothing as Lee leans down.
Instinctively, I tilt my face toward his. I’m expecting a chaste, brotherly kiss on the cheek. It is anything but. His lips find mine, and linger there—
So long.
Too long.
At least, long enough that my embarrassment in having Jack witness this—even after he set me up as bait—has summoned up Babette Chiffray’s syrupy sweet voice in my head: “Well, well! Isn’t this a surprise!”
A chill runs up my spine as I realize it’s not my guilty conscience I hear, but the real deal.
Oh, hell—she’s here.
To make matters worse, Babette has been embarrassed in front of one of her aides. The slack-jawed woman, right on Babette’s heels, is so taken aback that she drops her iPad.
So much for Lee’s attempt at positioning me as Babette’s BFF.
If looks could kill, right now I’d be six feet under.
Chapter 3
Choosing Your Bridesmaids
Bridesmaids are women who are close to the bride, either by relation or by friendship, but not necessarily both. You may have as many bridesmaids as your budget allows and your popularity merits. As you narrow your choices, should it come down to choosing between a cousin you can’t stand and a lifelong friend, choose the latter.
A harder choice is between the annoying cousin, and the girlfriend who once dated your betrothed and who you suspect still carries a torch for him. While it would be nice to rub the supposed gal pal’s nose in your great fortune, doing so and making her pay for her own dress and shoes may be enough to have her coming on to the groom as payback. In this case, the annoying cousin is a safer choice.
However, if you must choose between the same distasteful cousin and some bag lady plucking garbage from a bus stop trashcan, again, go for the cousin. Odds are, she’ll still be more annoying, but she’ll smell much better.
Now, if your choice is between the torch-carrying hussy and the homeless woman, this time go for the bag lady. Even if she makes a move on the groom and he acts on her advances, he’ll certainly reek of Eau du Bag Lady, and you’ll know immediately what the future holds, no matter who comes on to your husband.
At that point, you can deal with the problem accordingly: castration.
(Helpful Hint: the Wüsthof Classic 7-inch Hollow Ground Santoku Knife you’ve received as a wedding gift will do the trick quite nicely.)
“Babette, darling—your brunch is over already?” Unlike me, Lee isn’t embarrassed at her presence. He’s annoyed.
“Wives of foreign diplomats are such timid creatures, especially those from the Middle East.” Babette rolls her eyes. “It’s hard enough to entertain one wife of a foreign diplomat, let alone five of them! Frankly, I don’t know where Salem Rahmin al-Sadah finds the stamina for his harem.” She winks playfully at Jack.
She was entertaining the wives of Graffias International’s CEO? Cha-ching! Maybe it’s time for a little chitchat with my BFF and neighbor. Better yet, if I can plant a bug on her—
Oops, wait a minute. She just caught me in a lip lock with her husband. My bad.
No, really, his bad, but she’ll hate me just the same. And so will Ryan, when he realizes that Lee’s move blew the best up-close surveillance op ever.
“So sorry you found it such a bore. Funny, since you get along so swimmingly with Salem.” Lee shrugs as he beckons Babette to his side. “No matter. You’re just in time for the great news.”
“Considering your response, it must be specta
cular,” Babette purrs. Despite her icy response, I can only imagine her eyes narrowing warily, and her forehead pursed with suspicion. But alas, with three eyelifts and a forehead reinforced with Botox, I’ll never know for sure.
“Donna and I are getting married,” Jack explains.
“Oh.” Babette tears up. “I…I can’t believe it!” Why, because she never thought that Jack, her fantasy fuck, could fall in love with someone as imperfect as me?
“Well then, congratulations are in order!” She throws herself into Jack’s arms and puts him in a lip lock. Frankly, she’s buried her tongue so deep in his throat that she could be licking his tonsils.
One would think her blatant flirtation would bother Lee. Oddly, he seems oblivious to it.
Todd, on the other hand, is seething. Interesting.
“In fact, I’ll be marrying them,” Lee informs her.
Babette’s head whips around so quickly that you’d think she was due for an exorcism. “I beg your pardon?” It takes momentous effort on her part to raise a brow. I commend her for even trying. “Lee, really! You’re the leader of the free world! When will you have time for”—She tries to smile, but it’s more or less a grimace—“them?”
Lee’s dark stare shuts her up, and fast. “Their nuptials are imminent, so they should coincide with our retreat to Lion’s Lair. And considering all that Donna and Jack have done on our behalf—even before we met, when Jonah was still alive—I think we can both take time to celebrate their happiness.”
Babette winces at the name of her deceased first husband. Of course, Lee is right. In fact, attempted to kill the son of a bitch, but one of his rivals—my terrorist ex-husband, Carl—beat me to the punch. Had I told the world the truth about Jonah Breck’s treasonous acts as one of the original thirteen Quorum leaders, Babette’s reputation would have been ruined.
“Yes, the timing is certainly convenient,” she murmurs. Suddenly, a thought strikes her. She grabs both my hands in hers. “And, of course, Janie will be your flower girl! It’ll be a family affair!”
I shake my head. “Yes, well, this is about family—my family. I’m sure you realize it’s Trisha’s role in our wedding.”
“Why not double your pleasure, and double their fun? Won’t they look adorable, going down the aisle together? We can dress them as twins. I’m sure Trisha would love that!”
Behind her back, Jack catches my eye and shrugs, as if to say, She has a point.
“Well…” I sigh. “If Trisha agrees, then I guess—”
“Wonderful!” Babette snaps her fingers at her aide. “Narcissa, make a note to text Janie to call Trisha and tell her the good news.”
What nerve! Like hell she will—
“Excellent!” Ryan booms through the speakerphone. “Babette, your offer is tremendously generous. How could Donna turn it down?”
Watch me. “Really, Babette, I can’t let you do it. I mean—we’ve already asked so much of your family—”
She swats away my protest as if being annoyed by a moth. “Nonsense! I’ll hear no more about it!” Her smile widens to the point that she bares her teeth at me. I’d never noticed how pointy her canine cuspids were until now.
Jack moves between Babette and my clenched fist. He’s afraid I’ll miss my own wedding if I end up in a maximum-security prison for the first lady’s murder. As if. “What Donna is trying to say is that this is awfully kind of you, Babette.”
What the hell?
“I’ll bet! And, on such short notice! For shame, Donna!” She cocks her head to one side. “What is the date, exactly?”
“We were discussing the last weekend in June,” I mutter.
“Oh, my God! You haven’t yet locked in the date?” She shakes her head in wonder. “Then I guess it means you haven’t got a location, either.”
“Yes, well, what with Jack’s near-fatal coma and all—”
“Excuses, excuses.” She wags her finger at me. “Of which there are none for a lazy bride.” She sighs. “How perturbing. Why, this little endeavor may not come off after all.” The hope in her voice matches the longing in her eyes for Jack.
He and I answer, adamantly and in unison, “Oh, yes, it will!”
“Ah! Well then, it’s settled. I insist on planning it for you.”
Just as I say, “No, you won’t—” Jack proclaims, “That would be great!”
“Narcissa, call Chantal Desmarais. She does me for weddings.”
The aide nods frantically. Another flurry of iPad swiping ensues.
“Why do you feel the need to hold on to your wedding planner’s number? You’re already married—to the leader of the free world,” I point out.
Babette strokes Lee’s arm like a favored pet. “Sadly, I’m attracted to men for whom assassination attempts are an occupational hazard.” She cocks her head to one side. “Oh, my God, Donna! I think I’ve stumbled across the one thing we have in common.”
She’s got me there.
Todd takes it upon himself to hustle Jack, Dominic, and me out of the Oval Office. “The president was kind enough to pass along your personal email, Donna. I’ve sent you a secure missive, so that now your emails and texts to me will get through the White House server.”
“I’ll open it, pronto,” I assure him.
It’s not lost on Jack when Todd places his hand on the small of my back and murmurs, “The two of us will make quite a team.”
Jack grits his teeth, but keeps his arms at his sides.
He thinks he’s pissed? He’s not the one who has to deal with Babette.
At least, not if I have any say in the matter.
I better not find her measuring his inseam for a tux.
“We’ve been airborne for a full hour, and you haven’t said a word.” Jack holds out a peace offering: a gift box of sea-salt caramels from Lula’s in Santa Cruz.
“Here’s one: fuck off.”
“That’s two words,” he points out.
“Consider the second word a bonus. It’s a hell of a long ride.”
Still, I snatch the chocolates from his hand and cram one in my mouth. I’m starving, but I refuse to grab grub from the plane’s galley with the rest of the mission team.
Abu and Dominic have taken the hint. They stay clear of my compartment in the Gulfstream 650ER. Instead, they’ve grabbed the couches in the front of the plane. A rugby match is on the television. They watch it out of one eye, while keeping the other on their laptops, where they write their case notes on our operation.
My own case note was sent when we hit cruising altitude. It was short and not so sweet:
____________
TO: R. Clancy, CEO
FR: D. Stone, Senior Operative
CC: J. Craig, Operation China Doll Mission Leader
You sold me out.
Don’t expect an invitation to the wedding, because the way it looks now, there probably won’t be one. —Donna Stone
____________
“I admire the brevity of your case notes,” Jack says, trying hard not to smile, but he’s failing miserably.
“I wish I could say I appreciated how you handled Babette today, but I can’t,” I mumble through a jaw full of chewy caramel.
He kneels beside me so that we are eye to eye. “It’s the chance we’re looking for to get close enough to her, to prove that you’re right: that she’s Quorum.” He reaches for one of the chocolates.
I slap his hand away. “Or to prove me wrong, and that it’s Lee,” I counter.
“Whom, by the way, you played very well.” Jack shrugs. “Appealing to his ego worked like a charm.”
“As it does with most men, you included.” I bat my eyes at him. Then, in my best imitation of Babette’s baby-doll patois, I coo, “Oooh Jack! Pucker up for a kiss that will knock your socks off, and prove that you’re marrying the wrong woman—”
He knows one way to shut me up: he kisses me.
His lips taste of the coarse pink Himalayan salt that laces these yummy candies, and th
e longing that makes me want to set my anger aside. I fight the urge to lick them—not because I still crave the sweetness of dark chocolate, but because I can’t suppress my desire for him.
As if reading my mind, he takes my hand and pulls me into his arms.
Our lips never part. Instead, our bodies mesh as one.
He carries me into the last cabin, kicking the door shut behind him before falling with me onto the only piece of furniture in it: a bed.
“Ouch!” I roll over onto my stomach in order to get away from whatever is poking me in the back.
Turns out that it’s Dominic’s hairbrush.
If he thinks he can lay claim to the room by strewing the contents of his valise all over the place, he’s got another think coming. With one arm, Jack sweeps all of Dominic’s crap back into his case. With the other, he opens the door.
The suitcase lands in the hall with a thud.
“Blimey wankers!” Dominic shouts. Then: “Bollocks! My Hermês Body Wash went all over the place!”
The pungent scent of Eau d’Orange Verte wafts our way.
I’m sure we’d be queasy from the overwhelmingly sweet stench if our empirical senses weren’t already stimulated with the touch and smell and taste and sight and sounds of each other in an orgasmic climax.
I sit straight up in the bed. “Trisha is going to hate me!”
Jack opens an eye. “It’s a rite of passage. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
I shove him—hard. “I was praying for later. And, no, I don’t mean she’ll hate me in general. She’s going to hate me specifically, because I have to renege on my promise to have her as my one and only flower girl—thanks to your open invitation to all the Chiffrays.”
My declaration has roused him into an upright position. “Oh, hell. If you tell her how it went down, she’ll hate me too!”
I choke on my laughter. “Get used to it, Daddy Dearest.”
