by Cassie Cole
The sun had set by the time I went back out into the main room. Everything glowed with orange light from old light bulbs, giving the cabin a cozy feel. The ceiling was steepled, with thick wooden rafters running across the air above. In other circumstances this might have been a pleasant vacation stay.
“This casual enough for you?” I said, spreading my arms and twirling like a model.
“Much better.” Luca opened one or two cabinets and nodded approvingly. “We’ve still got some dry goods from the last time I was out here. I can hunt and fish for some other fresh meat. Should hold us out for a week.”
“A week!”
“Or two,” he said. “My orders were vague.”
“I thought I would only be here for… I don’t know…” I threw my hands in the air. “A day at most!”
He came out of the kitchen. “How about we sit down and discuss that.”
“I don’t want to sit down,” I said. “I want to get back to civilization so I can do my job.”
“You can’t do your job if you’re dead,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I’d rather be dead than useless. Luca, I can’t just hide away with my tail between my legs. I just announced my candidacy for president!”
“Something you neglected to tell me.” Anger suddenly filled his handsome face, and frustration shone in those experienced eyes. “I needed to know as much information as possible in order to keep you safe. And you kept the most important detail from me!”
“It was supposed to be a secret…” I began.
“A secret?” His laugh was bitter. “Do you seriously think I would run around telling everyone that you were about to announce your candidacy? Do you not understand what a Secret Service Agent does?”
At the time, it had made sense since we were afraid he might tell his superiors. But now it seemed ridiculous for us to have kept it from him.
He paced back and forth in his suit. “I was operating without knowing the full picture. And you almost died. They nearly killed you, Elizabeth!”
He shrugged out of his dress jacket, revealing his white dress shirt underneath. I gasped at what I saw. “Luca. Are you…”
He looked down at himself. “It’s not my blood, Elizabeth.”
All annoyance I felt instantly disappeared. Here I was worrying about a few days of delay when I had very nearly died earlier today. Luca had very nearly died: he’d shielded my body with his without hesitation. Protecting me. He was literally covered in my blood because he possibly saved my life.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice. “I should have told you.”
He gave a jerky nod, but refused to meet my gaze. He was incredibly handsome in that moment, still wearing his dress clothes but covered in the evidence of his desire to protect me.
The events of the day were still a blur, but bits and pieces began coming back to me. How Luca had immediately put himself between me and the shooter. The way he pulled my head down against his stomach while he scrambled over to the curtain, keeping my head as safe as possible. Pressing his hands on my wound while staring into my eyes and screaming at the top of his lungs for assistance.
Carrying me in his arms toward safety.
“Luca,” I said. “You saved my life today.”
“I did my job today,” he snapped. “In spite of the roadblocks.”
“I might be dead if not for you. You shielded me, then got me to safety.”
He put his hands on his hips. The dress shirt was tight against his muscular chest and arms, muscles I hadn’t noticed before, and sandy hair fell across his light eyes. “I did what any agent would have done to protect their assignment.”
“But it wasn’t any agent,” I said, taking a step toward him. “It was you. Agent Luca Santos.”
All the tension left his face. Like my acknowledgment was what he’d needed to hear. “I thought you were dead.”
“I wasn’t.”
“There was so much blood,” he said, staring at the ground. There was a tremble in his voice now. Not fear, but something close. “I thought for sure it was a gut wound before I got a better look at it.”
I stopped when I was standing in front of him. “Were you afraid of failing your mission?”
“Yes,” he said. “But it was more than that.” He finally met my gaze fully. His eyes were sharp. Certain. “After seeing your speech in front of that crowd, I… I see something in you now, Elizabeth. You’re not just some normal politician. You know what scared me more than failing my mission? I was afraid that the world was losing something special.”
Me. He meant me. I was something special.
So I kissed him.
His lips were salty and warm, his skin weathered with experience. He resisted for the tiniest fraction of time, but then he gave in and kissed me back, grabbing the back of my head tightly and holding me close against his lips like he would die if I pulled away…
Boomer lifted his head and growled.
“Easy,” I said, turning. “No need to get jealous, buddy.”
Luca whipped his head toward the door. “It’s not you. He hears something.” He drew his sidearm. “Someone’s outside the cabin.”
27
Luca
Whatever I felt during our kiss—incredible, transformative, tantalizing feelings—disappeared as soon as Boomer growled.
My sidearm was in my hand before I realized it. “Stay here. Keep away from the windows.”
I didn’t wait for her to comply. I opened the front door a crack. Frigid air rushed inside. I paused, straining my ears. All I heard was the rustling of the trees in the wind.
“Lock the door behind us,” I said, then slipped outside with Boomer.
He paused to sniff the air, then stalked off into the trees. I followed at a steady pace, ducking low and moving from trunk to trunk for cover. Clouds covered the moon, making the woods a deep black. Whoever was out there might be the same professional who had shot at Elizabeth at the Ohio Statehouse. If so, did they have night vision goggles? Were they watching me carefully while I stumbled through the underbrush from tree to tree?
I ignored my fear as I followed Boomer. The land sloped down away from the cabin. My feet slipped on leaves with every step, threatening to send me crashing to the ground. But I had to keep up with my dog. I’d gladly trade my own life for Elizabeth’s, but if anything happened to Boomer…
He stopped ahead, crouching low with his tail stiff. He blended in almost perfectly in the darkness, like a wolf. A low growl rumbled from his throat.
Whatever had caused the noise was up ahead.
I raised my gun and looked down the barrel. My orders were clear: bring the senator out here and shoot anyone who approached. No questions asked. None of our neighbors would have stumbled onto our land by mistake. Not this far from the property line.
If I saw a person, they were getting a cluster of three bullets straight to the chest.
I steadied my breath as I moved forward, Boomer at my side. Without my coat I was terribly cold, but years of training kept my hands steady on the gun.
There, up ahead. A bit of white cloth sticking out from behind a tree. A person hiding. I aimed my pistol.
“You have one chance to come out before I shoot.”
I wasn’t being truthful. I intended to shoot them the moment they stood, regardless of who they were. I just wanted to make it easier on myself. Get a clear shot.
The person twitched. Leaves rustled, and Boomer’s growl deepened.
The person shot out from behind the tree, running away from us. But it was immediately obvious from the motion that it wasn’t a person. An animal. Boomer shot after it at full speed, disappearing into the darkness. I jogged after him and found the white cloth stuck on a shrub: it was the white wrapper from a fast food burger. In the distance I heard Boomer barking, and the hiss-chitter of a raccoon.
I sighed and called Boomer back.
It took the entire walk back to the cabin for my heartbeat to return
to normal. Boomer panted and wagged his tail like he was a good boy. “You are a good boy,” I said, scratching his head as we walked. “But next time save it for a bad guy, alright?”
Boomer’s open-mouthed smile told me he intended to do no such thing.
I knocked on the door and Elizabeth answered soon after. “You should have verified it was me before opening up,” I said.
“I saw you approach from the window.”
“And I told you to stay away from the windows,” I said with more annoyance than I meant.
Elizabeth paused. “Sorry. I was worried.”
“It’s okay this time. But you need to listen to what I say.”
“Okay.”
She was looking at me intently, which is when I remembered what had happened before I went outside. The kiss. A moment of weakness.
“I’ll get started on dinner,” I said. She started following me, so I added, “You can use my cell phone as a Wi-Fi hotspot to check the news. Assuming I have a cell signal.”
“Oh!”
She was like a kid on Christmas morning who’d finally been told she could unwrap her presents. She ran to her suitcase, fished out her laptop, and sat down at the kitchen table. I told her the hotspot password for my phone and she was a flurry of typing and mouse-clicks.
“I’m still trending on social media!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Both #OHARE2020 and #assassination hashtags are still in the Top 10. I bet Megan is losing her mind with excitement.”
“Wow,” I said while gathering ingredients. Canned chicken and some boiled rice. I didn’t have much in the way of sauces here, but I did have salt, pepper, and butter. That would have to do.
While Elizabeth made excited noises, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It was a mistake, obviously. She was my assignment. I was supposed to keep her safe! Any other feelings would only get in the way of my job.
But I want her badly.
I took deep breaths and tried to think logically. This was a normal reaction between two people who shared a traumatic event. It would fade once we got some sleep. I had to acknowledge it, and move past it.
As if it’s that simple.
She chatted about her campaign while we ate our simple dinner, the kiss long forgotten. The types of policies they were going to emphasize, and which other primary candidates they hoped to hitch their wagon to. The preliminary polling data on Elizabeth’s popularity, both in Ohio and in the other 49 states.
Yet as I made up the couch and wished her goodnight, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
I woke up early the next morning to make coffee and get dressed. When I came out of the bathroom, the senator was standing there with her hands on her hips.
“Where are you going?”
“Hunting,” I said. “We’re out of canned chicken.”
She frowned, which somehow made her look more beautiful. “It’s okay for you to leave me here while you’re out in the woods?”
“Well, I’m scouting the perimeter too,” I replied. “Checking for game trails or other signs of recent activity. Boomer can keep you safe.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts. They were full against the soft fabric of her pajamas. The look she gave me was the kind which made bankers and political opponents wither.
“There’s no way I’m staying here alone,” she said in a calm voice. “I’m going with you.”
I could tell arguing with her would get me nowhere. Plus, it would be safer for her if she tagged along.
I found some of my sister’s clothes in the storage chest that fit Elizabeth pretty well. Jeans, a flannel shirt, and a heavy double-lined jacket. A beanie hat completed the wardrobe, causing her honey-colored hair to spill down around her shoulders.
“No neon hunting vest?” she asked.
I pulled down one of the hunting rifles from the rack on the wall. “Not today. Anyone we come across out there is not someone we want seeing us.”
“What about a gun for me?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You ever hunted before?”
“No, but there are people trying to kill me. I’d feel much safer with my own weapon. I promise not to shoot you.”
Again, there was no point in arguing so I pulled down the second rifle and gave her a quick lesson on all the important parts.
We trudged through the woods as the sun rose over the treetops. Our air clouded in front of us with each breath. As Boomer ran out ahead of us he left a trail of puffed respiration in his wake, like a black lab steam train.
“What are we hunting?”
“Deer,” I said. “Plenty out this time of year. Best part of owning a few hundred acres that we rarely use is the deer feel safer here. They flee other hunting areas and congregate on our land. Shouldn’t have any trouble finding some.”
We walked in peaceful silence for 20 minutes before reaching the deer blind. It was a simple wooden structure 30 feet up in a tree, like a dilapidated tree house. I slung my rifle over my shoulder and climbed the ladder, with Elizabeth right behind me.
“Cozy,” she said while ducking inside. The ceiling was too low for a person to stand, and it was crowded with two of us inside. But we had a 180 degree view of the forest around us, the leafless trees standing tall like rows of endless toothpicks.
I rested my gun on the window and slid my back against the wall.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Elizabeth said.
I tensed. The kiss? “You don’t have to apologize.”
“Sure I do,” she insisted. “I was upset about possibly being stuck out here for a week or longer. I understand you’re only trying to keep me safe.”
Oh. She didn’t mean the kiss. “I would be frustrated too if I were in your shoes,” was all I said.
“The thing you have to understand,” Elizabeth began, “is that you being assigned to me was a political decision. POTUS suspected I was going to announce my candidacy, so he gave me a Secret Service detail to make me seem weaker. Like I need protecting.”
I grunted. I hadn’t thought of it from her angle. I’d been too focused on why I had been assigned to her. My own personal fuck-up.
“You said it yourself,” she went on. “This order came from the top. Right?”
“It did.”
“Surely you can see how keeping me hidden away for a week damages my political clout. A senator announces that she’s running for president, then disappears for a week? It gives POTUS the ammunition to hammer me for being scared. He’ll claim that if I can’t handle the heat of the first day of my official campaign, I won’t be able to handle the actual presidency.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I admitted.
“It’s not your job to think of that,” she said gently. “It’s your job to keep me safe. Which you’re absolutely dedicated to. I can see that now. But we can’t keep me so safe that I can’t do what I was elected to do. A ship is safe in harbor, but that is not what ships are built for.”
“What would you have me do?” I asked. “My orders are to keep you here, with limited communication, until told otherwise. Should I disobey those and let you run back home to your campaign?”
She sighed. “I don’t know what to do, Luca. I just want you to understand where my frustration comes from. I’m not used to any of this.”
She put her hand on my leg, and I instinctively reached out to clasp it. I gave it a squeeze and said, “I understand your frustration, Elizabeth.”
We shared a smile in the cramped deer blind. She had the deepest, widest eyes I’d ever seen. A man could drown in those eyes if he stared too long. Already I could feel my hesitation disappearing, the urge to cup her cheek and kiss her growing with every second our hands kept touching.
Her head whipped around. “What’s that?”
I pulled out my binoculars. A single deer moved between the trees in the distance. A doe by herself.
“Good eyes,” I said, swapping my binoculars for my rifle. I gazed through the scope and centered the crossh
airs on the doe. I took a steady breath, then exhaled and prepared to squeeze the trigger.
Elizabeth’s rifle fired, causing me to flinch and almost drop my gun. With expert speed she pulled back the bolt to discharge the shell, pushed it back forward to load a new round, and fired a second time. I looked through the scope and saw the doe on the ground.
“Sorry,” she said with a sigh. “Should’ve gotten her on the first shot. I’m rusty.”
I stared at her. “You said you’ve never hunted before!”
“I’m a politician,” she said with a shit-eating grin. “And politician’s lie. Come on. Let’s go grab our supper and check the rest of the perimeter. I’m freezing my butt off.”
I watched her climb down the blind with newfound respect.
28
Elizabeth
Luca carried the doe across his shoulders while I held both rifles. Obviously it left us a little more vulnerable since it would take him longer to get a weapon out, but we didn’t have much of a choice.
“I grew up hunting,” I explained as we walked. It still wasn’t warm out, but now that the sun was above the trees and shining on our backs it was close to pleasant. “I wasn’t big into killing living things, but dad insisted on teaching me. He said it was part of our culture.”
“You didn’t hesitate on this doe,” Luca said with a grin.
“Because we intend to actually eat it. It’s not just killing for sport.”
“You don’t have to eat it, though.”
I snickered. “I saw what was in the cupboards. I can’t survive off freeze dried mashed potatoes and boiled rice, whether for two days or two weeks.”
Boomer barked once as if to agree.
“While we’re on the subject of killing, who would want to kill you?”
“Same as I told the officers after my first attack. I’m a politician from a swing state. Half the country probably wants me dead.”
