by Radclyffe
Witt smiled. “Never had much of a chance. Did a tour on protection with an ex-president before four years in New York City.”
“Ouch,” Oakes said. The New York City posting was a beast, and four years was a long time to stick it out in a pressure cooker office where agents were constantly pulled from investigations to provide protection for dignitaries and others at meetings in the city.
“Then the choice was Atlanta or Kansas City.” Witt shrugged. “I don’t like hot weather.”
Oakes wasn’t all that surprised. Quite a few agents choose to leave rather than accept a post in an undesirable city or stick it out at some other posting that proved a hardship for family, even if they stood a chance of advancement. Oakes knew a few who’d gone through training with her who’d opted for transfers to other federal or state law enforcement agencies or, like Witt, private security. She was lucky—she was exactly where she wanted to be.
“I hear you,” Oakes said. A least now she knew Ari would have competent security. No one survived FLETC and the Beltway who wasn’t skilled, whether they stayed in the service long-term or not.
The motorcade slowed, turned in to the naval base, and the vehicles pulled around beside the small jet that would take them back to Andrews. Two Navy pilots already sat in the dimly lit cockpit. The stairs were down, an officer stood at the bottom, and Blair’s detail disembarked from the lead car and immediately climbed aboard. Oakes slid out and held the door for Ari, Witt bringing up the rear. Waiting Navy personnel climbed into the now empty vehicles and drove them off the runway while everyone else boarded.
Blair and Cam sat together toward the front with Stark a few rows behind them. The agents spread out toward the rear of the plane. Ari took an aisle seat in the center, and Witt settled in a row behind her. Oakes was about to walk back and join the rest of the protection detail when Ari looked up and pointed to the empty row across from her.
“If you don’t mind me making a few phone calls,” Ari said, smiling.
Oakes took the aisle seat across from Ari. “If you don’t mind me snoring. Plane rides always put me to sleep.”
Ari shook her head, still smiling. “Probably a good idea to grab some sleep when you can.”
“You might consider that yourself,” Oakes said. “I think you might be in for a long night.”
“A lot of them.” Ari sighed. “We’d probably better postpone our briefing—by the time we reach DC it will be late, and I’m going to be making a lot of calls.”
“I have the late shift tomorrow,” Oakes said. “Breakfast meeting?”
“If I possibly can,” Ari said.
“No problem,” Oakes replied, oddly satisfied. “I’m flexible.”
The engines revved and the jet taxied onto the runway. Oakes reclined her seat, leaned back, and closed her eyes. As soon as they were airborne and a voice from the cockpit announced they could now use electronics, including phones, Ari made a call.
“It’s me again,” Ari said. “I’m on my way back to DC. I guess you saw the briefing.” Ari sighed. “I would have warned you if I’d known myself. I didn’t. Is the senator there?”
Oakes couldn’t help but listen to the conversation, half drifting, half always aware.
“All right,” Ari said. “I’ll call her at home. Tomorrow, as soon as I know what my schedule will be. You’ll do fine.” Ari laughed, her laughter tinged with irony. “Yes, it’s a whole new game.”
For everyone, Oakes thought. Although all that mattered to her was game day—and six weeks was going to go by very quickly.
Philadelphia
9:57 p.m.
Sandy leaned over the bathroom sink finishing her makeup when she heard footsteps behind her. “Give me a sec. I’m almost done.”
“Take your time. I have a great view of your ass.”
Smiling, she finished putting the final touches on her mascara and turned around. Mitch stood in the doorway, dressed for the street—black jeans, muscle shirt, biker boots, and a wide studded leather belt with a big square buckle that drew attention to the bulge behind his fly. She crooked a finger and said, “Come on over here.”
Grinning, he sauntered over and she hooked a finger under his belt and tugged him closer until the faint weight of his cock pressed against her middle. She canted her hips and pressed into him, a surge of satisfaction making her pulse quicken as his eyes widened.
“Come on,” he murmured, sliding an arm around her waist while he kissed her behind the ear. “You trying to make me uncomfortable for the rest of the night?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, turning her head to rub her cheek against his. Smoothing her hand down his back, she tugged at his earlobe with her teeth. He hissed and swept his hand down over her ass and under the back of her skirt, his fingertips teasing the curve of her butt. They didn’t always work the same schedule, and she wasn’t often around when Mitch geared up for a night out under deep cover. Happily, she was often home by the time he returned in the morning and reaped the benefit of him climbing into bed, still strapped, and usually revved from an entire night of tense work. Tonight would be different. They’d be working together, although not as a pair. Not yet, at least.
“Just make sure you don’t get too friendly with any of the other girls,” Sandy murmured.
“Same goes.” With his chest wrapped and his hair slicked back, packing, and carrying a whole lotta attitude in his biker gear, Mitch was the far masculine-of-center of her lover’s personae. Lucky for her, she found every variation of Dellon Mitchell’s gender expression mind-meltingly sexy.
Sandy lifted one leg and wrapped it around Mitch’s thigh, tugging her short skirt up even higher until she could open her legs and tug Mitch between them. She leaned her breasts into him, her heart racing as his breath caught.
“You know,” Sandy murmured, “it’s going to be a long night. Are you in a big hurry?”
“It is important to have a clear head,” Mitch whispered, “when working and all.”
“Then maybe you should do a little extra prep before we leave.”
“Maybe I should.” Throat dry and heart thudding like he’d never kissed a girl before, Mitch looped an arm around her thin waist and lifted her off the floor. She, with a practiced movement, braced herself with hands on his shoulders and hiked her hips up around his waist. She settled against him as if their bodies had been carved from one piece, the two parts fitting perfectly as a whole. He swung around, strode out of the bathroom and across the fifteen feet to their bed, and dumped her onto her back. She laughed, and somehow magically, her skirt was lying on the pillow beside her and all that covered her was a flimsy patch of black satin that disappeared between her thighs. Boots still on, Mitch climbed onto the bed and knelt between her thighs. Sandy raised her shoulders, grasped the heavy belt buckle, and yanked it open. Mitch had a hard time catching his breath. She always did this to him, rocketed him from zero to sixty in a couple of heartbeats, all because she wanted him. All of him, right now, however—whoever—he was, and all he could think about was giving her everything. Every last bit of him, heart, body, and soul.
Her hand was inside his jeans, slipping out the cock he’d tucked down against the inside of his thigh. Flexible enough to pack but firm enough for working. She tugged him forward and he stretched out above her. With his mouth on hers, he groped around the bedside table, slid open the top drawer, and found a condom.
“In a hurry?” Sandy’s voice was husky and her breathing shallow.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. But you’re in charge, baby,” Mitch murmured against her mouth and pressed the condom into her hand. She closed her fist around it, then pushed him upright.
With a few practiced motions, she had it open and rolled onto him and said, “That’s your cue, Rookie.”
Her eyes were laughing, and as he eased inside her, he watched them widen and grow hazy. Oh yeah, he loved doing that to her. He braced his arms on either side of her slender shoulders and moved with her, following her pac
e. He’d follow her anywhere, with his last breath.
The push-pull of her hips moving up and down him shoved him even higher, and watching her take her pleasure was enough to jolt him to the edge. The coiled spring in his belly threatened to snap.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“Already?” She laughed, gripped his ass, and pulled him hard inside her. “You’re so easy.”
Mitch closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to hold back the explosion, but he couldn’t stop. She did that to him. Every time. He shuddered, heard himself groan and her laughing. And right on top of that, the quick catch of her breath, the strangled cry, and she was bucking beneath him, joining him.
His arms gave out, but he caught himself before he could crush her. He wasn’t really much bigger, but more muscular, heavier where she was lithe and willowy. Breathing hard, he buried his face in her neck. “I love you.”
She stroked his hair, slid a hand under the back of his jeans, and squeezed his ass.
“You are so hot,” she whispered.
He chuckled a little raggedly. She wore him out. His legs felt like jelly.
“I’m going to need a minute.”
“Uh-huh.” She gripped his hip bones and pushed him back, eased him out of her.
“You okay?” Mitch whispered. “Need more?”
Sandy massaged his shoulders, loving the way his body, loose and vulnerable, felt atop her. “I could go again. A couple of times.”
He raised his head. A hint of panic in his dark eyes. “Now?”
She laughed and kissed him. “In the morning. Make sure you save a little something for me.”
He grinned and settled back with his head on her shoulder. “Always do.”
She stroked his face, kissed the top of his head. “I know you do.”
“You’ll be careful, right? If we make contact and this girl leads us to some kind of organized cell—”
“I know, I know. I’ll be fine.” If she didn’t know how much Mitch loved her, she might be annoyed. She was a cop after all, even if he had seniority. Even if when they’d met, she’d still been just a CI. But it wasn’t the cop worrying over her, it was her lover. So she let it go.
All the same, she bounced a fist lightly on his shoulder. “You too, you know.”
“Always, baby.”
“Then get your sweet ass up and get yourself back together. I have to check my makeup.”
His strength finally returning, he propped himself up on his arms and regarded her with a tilt of his head. “Looks good to me.” He kissed her. “Oops. Smeared your lipstick.”
Laughing, he avoided the playful slap and climbed off the bed. After rearranging himself and zipping up his pants, he waited by the door while she double-checked her makeup and got her weapon out of the drawer. He watched her slide her backup piece into a tiny holster that fit inside her even tinier skirt at the base of her spine. He didn’t know how she hid that there. His was in a leg holster just above the top of his boot. Not a quick draw but inconspicuous.
She turned, gave him the once-over, and nodded. “Give me a few minutes’ head start.”
“Okay, babe.” Mitch squeezed her hand as she passed him. “Take good care of my girl.”
“I’ll see you back here in the morning, Rookie,” Sandy said. “Love you.”
“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, watching her stroll down the hall with a sexy sway that would draw the attention of anyone with a pulse. “Love you.”
Chapter Eleven
“We’re beginning the descent to Andrews. We’ll be on the ground in twenty-five minutes,” the pilot announced.
Ari checked the time. A bit after nine. She’d been too revved to sleep, too busy mentally reviewing the events of the day and her recent phone calls to relax. Antonio had taken the news of her departure from the senator’s campaign about the way she’d expected. Partly resigned, a little bit angry and trying hard not to be, and a little bit envious and pretending he wasn’t. She couldn’t blame him. She had just made a colossal career leap forward, and she hadn’t looked back. But that was the business they were in, and none of it was personal. Business was never personal. The only thing personal to her was the end result. Winning, for her client and therefore herself, was everything.
The senator, whom she’d decided to try at home, had answered instantly, her first words, “I saw the news briefing. I doubt they gave you much time—or much choice.”
Her rough ex-smoker’s voice had sounded faintly amused.
“It was rushed,” Ari had admitted, “but the choice was mine. I’m sorry to be leaving.”
“But you’d be an idiot not to,” Senator Martinez said.
“Yes.”
“Well, now the president owes me a bit of consideration in the future, since he stole my political consultant at a critical point in my reelection campaign.” She laughed. “Good thing I’m winning.”
“I don’t believe that’s in doubt,” Ari said, wisely avoiding any comment about the president. “And Antonio will steer the course well.”
“Just see that you get Powell through November ahead of the jackals, ours and theirs,” Martinez said sharply. “Or else we’re all screwed.”
“That’s my plan,” Ari said.
“Good luck,” Martinez said as she ended the call.
Ari hoped she wouldn’t need it. She’d depended on her wits and her drive her whole life. Of course, with the unexpected appearance of Blair Powell on her doorstep, her life had suddenly taken a sharp right-angle turn, maybe more of a hairpin turn—she was still headed for the summit, but she’d taken a detour. An unexpected one, and from a very unexpected source. Had Blair just been the messenger because they had some history, ancient though it was? She knew who Blair was now, of course, but they’d both been different in prep school. She remembered Blair as being young, privileged, and so very angry. Ari’d seen a lot of herself in Blair. From the outside, they both seemed to have everything anyone could ever want. Both had arrived at school with bodyguards in the background, Blair because her father was a governor. Hers had been necessary because her father was…well, because he was Nikolai Rostof.
Ari still didn’t know all that meant, and she didn’t lie to herself and pretend that she wanted to know. Of course with his last name and his history, and his incredible ascendancy to power and wealth, there were clichéd rumors. But rumors abounded in her world, and all that mattered was proof. And about the only proof that really mattered was evidence that couldn’t be fabricated. Not much was incontrovertible—except digital records. Fakes were easy to spot and the real thing was impossible to deny. She was very careful about where she discussed business, and she’d installed software on her personal phone to scramble calls. She was doubly careful of where she was seen in public and with whom, especially if an outing was personal. The constant media attention and the inevitable rumor mill were good reasons not to foster significant personal connections.
Cloak-and-dagger, perhaps, but she’d grown up under an umbrella of paranoia and caution. In her own way, Blair had too. Blair’d had state police escorts and plainclothes state agents protecting her, but nothing like the Secret Service detail she had now. Ari had thought she’d left most of that behind, but now she had a bodyguard too. She still had to sort out how she was going to conduct her life with someone as close to her as Witt was going to be.
She knew Nika Witt only slightly. Witt had been with Rostof Protective Services for about six months, and Ari had met her at one of her father’s functions. She would have noticed her in any case. She was good looking, in a dark intense kind of way. Ari smiled to herself. A lot like Oakes Weaver. The two rather resembled bookends, although Witt was more lithe where Weaver was lean and, Ari suspected, tightly muscled underneath that surprisingly nice fitting charcoal suit. That was not an off-the-rack suit. Unusual for the security types, and she liked that little quirk about Weaver. Found it interesting. So often the security types, ex-military or federal, had all the personality trained out
of them, or maybe they never had any to begin with.
Oakes Weaver struck her as being a lot more complicated than she wanted to let on. Ari turned her head and watched Oakes sleeping. Or perhaps pretending to sleep. She looked relaxed, but as Ari had come to appreciate about so many things, that might just be a façade.
“Are you really sleeping?” she asked, low enough that she doubted anyone could hear over the low purr of the engines.
“What gave me away?” Oakes opened her eyes and glanced across the aisle at Ari, a light dancing in her eyes that Ari hadn’t seen before. Could that possibly be humor?
“Nothing, really. I just had a feeling you were really good at pretending.”
Oakes’s brows drew down and she cocked her head as if surprised. “I think I might have been insulted.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Ari said. “Doesn’t that sort of go along with your line of work? Maybe not pretending, but hiding?”
“Okay, now I’ve definitely been insulted.”
“Why?” Ari could tell from the subtle playful tone in her voice that she wasn’t really. “You’re not supposed to be noticed. In the background, no opinions, no reactions, no investment. All about the job, right?”
“And is that a lot different than what you do?”
“Totally,” Ari said, keeping it light. “I spend a lot of my time in front of a camera, or getting my clients in front of one. I’m visible.”
“Right, and the camera never lies.”
Ari smiled. “You know, sometimes it does.”
“So what are you hiding? Or is it hiding from?”
Ari caught her breath. “That’s rather personal.”
“You started it.”
“All right,” Ari said carefully, sensing danger and, for some reason, walking closer to the edge of the cliff. Her entire life had been about caution. Being careful not to reveal too much to anyone about who she was, who her family was. Sometimes, not even to herself. And here was a stranger tempting her to drop her cloak. Taunting her. Challenging her. And she liked the challenge. If this was a game, she was intrigued enough to play.
