Cost of Honor

by Radclyffe

  Oakes laughed, glad for the little bit of levity that had snuck into Ari’s voice. Her being upset was upsetting. Another thing she wasn’t quite used to. “Okay, I was being humble.”

  “You don’t really do it all that well, by the way.”

  “Hey, I think that’s the third time tonight you’ve insulted me.”

  “Uh-huh. And I can see how much of an effect it had.”

  “So you were trying to insult me.”

  “Hardly.” Ari cast her a sideways smile. “Just testing.”

  “Did I pass?” Oakes wasn’t sure what the test was, but she most definitely did not want to disappoint.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Oakes laughed. This was a different kind of sparring than Oakes was used to. Exciting, in a different way than the usual aggressive endorphin kind of rush knocking heads with another agent produced. Arousing, actually. What it was, Oakes realized on a wave of slowly building electricity skittering over her skin, was flirting.

  Not the best of ideas, and she could think of a number of reasons without even trying very hard. She didn’t know a damn thing about Ari Rostof, other than what she had read in her bio, and what had been in her bio had raised a few flags. Her father’s questionable business associations aside, Ari was about to take over one of the most important jobs in the president’s administration, at least until the next election, and that meant she was going to be on the opposite side of the playing field from Oakes.

  Her job was to secure the president’s safety, and that was pretty much going to be a twenty-four-hour-a-day job right up until the election. Her experience with Adam, as much as she’d liked him, was that he wanted to get as much face time for the president as possible, while Oakes and every other Secret Service agent in the Presidential Protective Division wanted to keep him in a bulletproof bubble as far away from the public as possible. Yeah, she and Ari were definitely on opposite sides of this court.

  “The diner’s right here,” Ari said, leading her around the corner to an old-fashioned subway car diner squeezed between a building with an art house movie theater on the first level and a Thai restaurant on the other side. A row of square windows ran down the middle of the aluminum-sided structure, and quite a few booths were full.

  “I hope they haven’t run out of cinnamon buns,” Oakes said.

  Ari laughed and reached for the door. Oakes grabbed it automatically.

  “You know, I am quite capable of opening my own doors,” Ari murmured as she stepped inside.

  Oakes followed her down the aisle to a red vinyl booth and slid in across from her. “I have no doubt you’re supremely competent at any number of things. It’s habit.”

  “I didn’t actually say I didn’t like it.” Ari picked up a menu.

  “Good.” Oakes grabbed a menu herself.

  A waitress in a black skirt, a red and white striped apron, and a short-sleeved white shirt with frilly caps appeared beside them.

  “Grilled cinnamon bun?” she said, looking at Ari. “Coffee?”

  “Yes to both,” Ari said.

  “You can double that, and an order of eggs and ham,” Oakes said.

  “Gotcha.” The waitress moved away without writing anything down.

  “You really do like the cinnamon buns,” Oakes said.

  “When I like something, I don’t change my mind,” Ari said.

  “Good to know.” Oakes’s belly was buzzing again for no good reason. They were talking about pastry, for cripes’ sake.

  Two cups of coffee appeared in front of them, and Ari added cream to hers, picked it up, and leaned back in the booth. “So, let’s start with the areas we probably agree on.”

  Oakes laughed and tried her own coffee. Strong but rich. Nice. “Let’s hope there are some.”

  Ari smiled thinly. Oakes apparently had the same reservations she did. She hadn’t had any difficulty working with the senator’s private security detail, since they pretty much did whatever the senator wanted them to do, and the senator did whatever Ari wanted her to do, which included all kinds of interactions with the public—town meetings, fund-raisers, walkabouts in farm country, television appearances, commencement speeches. Anything and everything to get her face in front of the public and, more importantly, her hand shaking those of her potential constituents. Security was important, but not a major concern. Yes, the security guards needed to keep overzealous constituents from crowding the senator, and after what happened to Congresswoman Gabby Giffords, crowd control and weapon surveillance were heightened. But the senator was far from being a public symbol like the President of the United States. The issue of the public’s access to him was going to be a major stumbling block, and one she would rather leave until she’d garnered some goodwill with the Secret Service detail. Oakes seemed like a reasonable place to start.

  “The convention agenda…” Ari said, choosing a neutral topic. “Do you have an itinerary yet?”

  “Adam assured me that he had one, but I haven’t seen it,” Oakes said, a note of annoyance trickling into her usually inscrutable tone.

  “All right, that’ll be one of the first things on my list. Hotel?”

  “Still being vetted.”

  “I don’t need to know about the hospitals, but I’d like the plans for the motorcade route as soon as possible.”

  “Why is that?” Oakes asked casually. Ari seemed to know a little bit more about how things worked than she’d expected. But then, why wouldn’t she. She worked on the Hill, the senator had been at plenty of functions where the president was also present, and the bones of what happened when he traveled were obvious. The details were never shared with anyone, and she didn’t intend to share them now.

  “In case a stop along the way would be advantageous,” Ari said.

  Oakes shook her head. “There won’t be any stops along the way.”

  Ari smiled. “Well, you never know.”

  The back of Oakes’s neck started to itch. So much for flirting. It looked like the game was on. Ari didn’t seem to notice Oakes’s reticence as she typed notes into her phone.

  “Who’s interfacing with media from your team, anyone yet?”

  “That would be Evyn Daniels,” Oakes said.

  “I’ll need to speak with him.”

  “Her.”

  “Her,” Ari said with another smile.

  She was beautiful when she smiled. The observation irritated Oakes at the moment. “I’ll let her know.”

  “I’ll talk to the heads of the major networks covering the event—who they plan to have doing personal interviews, where they’re going to be held.”

  “I imagine Rostof Network News will be involved,” Oakes said.

  Ari’s brows flickered for just an instant before her facial expression smoothed out again. “Of course. But that won’t be the only network there.”

  “I’ll arrange a meeting between you, Evyn, and myself as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll also need the layout for the Convention Center,” Ari said.

  “Why?”

  “I want to see where the president is positioned when he accepts the nomination to check camera angles, sight lines to the broadcast booths, where he’ll be staging before the appearance, the walk-on position—everything that has to do with his personal presentation.”

  “You really plan to manage him,” Oakes said.

  “That’s my job, managing people.” Ari looked up from her phone, a gleam in her eyes that reminded Oakes of a professional athlete before a major tournament. Rostof was in this to win, all right, and it looked like things were going to be very different with her calling the plays.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Oasis

  1:20 a.m.

  A tall skinny guy with hair cut so short it barely left a shadow on his skull and features so nondescript the average person wouldn’t be able to describe him a few hours later appeared beside their table. The guy wore dark cargo pants and a plain T-shirt, no pockets and no logos. His who
le appearance suggested he was trying to pass as unremarkable. That might have worked if it wasn’t for the black lightning bolt tattoo on the left side of his neck. Mitch laughed to himself. That was an identifying mark if he’d ever seen one.

  “Who are you?” the guy said after a moment, looking at Mitch. He dropped his hand on the back of Trish’s neck, a gesture that was more controlling than possessive.

  “Hey, baby,” Trish said with a tone that belied her almost dismissive sneer when she looked up at him, although Mitch supposed her expression could be construed as a smile. Maybe if you weren’t looking too closely, and this guy wasn’t. He probably never really looked at her—she was just there, background noise—and she probably knew it.

  “Hey,” Mitch said, holding out a hand. “I’m Mitch.”

  “Uh-huh,” the guy said, taking his hand and squeezing just a little harder than a handshake required. Mitch didn’t take the bait and slouched back in his chair after extracting his hand.

  “Elle,” Sandy said, not offering her hand.

  The guy didn’t offer his either.

  “I’m…Mark,” the guy said.

  The hesitation gave him away. Not Mark, then. Chances were it was an M-name. People often subconsciously chose aliases with their own initials.

  Mark pulled out a chair and sat down next to Trish.

  “First time here?” Mark said, as if he owned the place and was taking a customer survey.

  “Not me,” Sandy said. “The music sucks, but the drinks are pretty good.” She laughed. “And the bartender’s hot.”

  Trish laughed with her. Mitch didn’t and neither did Mark.

  “So, what about you, Mitch. What’d you come here for?”

  “I heard this was a good place for guys to meet chicks.” Mitch draped his arm around the back of Sandy’s chair but didn’t touch her. “I’m working on that.”

  “Make sure you work on the right girl.” Mark let a beat pass while he looked Sandy over. He tugged Trish an inch closer. “’Cause this one’s mine.”

  Mitch could see his fingers tighten on Trish’s neck, and he worked to keep his face blank as he raised his hands. “Absolutely. Never poach another guy’s girl.”

  “So, you a student?” Mark signaled to one of the harried waitresses hustling by with a full tray. “Another round here, if you please.”

  She shot him a look as if his polite request hadn’t fooled her at all. His superior tone still came through loud and clear. “When I get to it.”

  “I went to City College for a while,” Mitch said, “but it wasn’t for me. Too many bleeding-heart liberals.” He snorted. “Teachers and students.”

  Mark’s eyes glinted as if he’d just noticed Mitch for the first time. “Well, yeah, you see that a lot on campuses these days. But you know, there’s a lot of us there too.”

  “Us regular guys, you mean.” Mitch backed off and waited. Mark struck him as being cautious and experienced enough to pick up on being pumped for information.

  “I was thinking along the lines of all-American guys, you know?”

  “I hear that.”

  Mark tilted his head, as if studying Mitch for some sign he was serious. Mitch stayed relaxed and let him look. Mark seemed to come to some kind of decision, because he relaxed for the first time, settling against the back of his chair. “So what do you do now?”

  “Whatever I can to make a few bucks,” Mitch said.

  “You dealing?” Mark asked.

  “Hell, no,” Mitch said, going by instinct. “I’m clean and so’s my record. Never been busted and never plan to be.”

  “Good,” Mark said, “that’s real good.”

  Washington, DC

  1:30 a.m.

  “I think that about covers the immediate issues,” Ari said, pushing her coffee cup aside. “Thanks for sacrificing a few hours’ sleep.”

  “No problem,” Oakes said. “I don’t need a lot of sleep, and I’m an expert at grabbing what I need when I can.”

  “There’s going to be a lot of that going around the next few weeks,” Ari said.

  “True. Besides, you’re right about the cinnamon buns. They’re great—the rest of the food too.”

  “Just got lucky,” Ari said, placing bills on the table. “I found the right incentive to keep you up half the night.”

  “You did,” Oakes said, placing her hand over Ari’s.

  Ari caught her breath, her heart jumping. She hadn’t been anticipating anything personal, or at least she hadn’t let her mind go there even though Oakes was damnably attractive with just the right blend of confidence tempered by professionalism and tinged with arrogance. And here she was making a move when Ari was positive she hadn’t sent any signals to encourage her. How could she have—she wasn’t interested. Okay, maybe not that exactly, but she didn’t have the time, space, or emotional fortitude to take on a complicated woman right now, and Oakes would be anything but simple.

  “Why don’t you let me get the check,” Oakes said. “I’m not carrying any cash, so I can’t chip in otherwise.”

  Something that felt a lot like a blush crept up Ari’s throat, and she prayed Oakes didn’t notice. Read that one all wrong. She must be a little more tired than she’d thought. Not a good start to a new job that was going to require her to spend a lot of time with Agent Weaver.

  “No, that’s fine.” Ari carefully but not too quickly extracted her hand from beneath Oakes’s warm palm and sat back a little so she could pull her hand safely into her lap without looking like she was running away. Which she definitely was. “I almost never use cash either, except for here. I just like the waitresses to get their tips that way.”

  “Nice of you. They don’t have an easy job. Did you ever wait tables?”

  Ari shook her head. “No, I’m afraid my summer jobs were interning at my father’s firms, when I wasn’t crewing on one of his racing sailboats.”

  Oakes laughed. “Okay, then. Tough work.”

  “Hey,” Ari said with mock archness, “you’ve never worked for my father.”

  “True enough. But I imagine it’s a lot like working for the president. Your time is never your own, everything you schedule gets changed, and no matter what you see or hear, you’re not supposed to have any opinions.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” Ari laughed. “So I guess I’m well prepared. Well, except for the last thing. I didn’t score highly on the no-opinion part.”

  “Yeah, I imagine that’s true.”

  “Hm. What exactly are you saying there, Agent?”

  Oakes grinned. “You strike me as a woman who speaks her mind.”

  “You’re only partially right,” Ari said. “Professionally I keep a lot to myself—I’m managing someone else’s image, remember.”

  “And personally? No secrets there?” Oakes asked quietly.

  “I didn’t say that,” Ari answered just as quietly. No, she wouldn’t pretend she didn’t hold back parts of herself. Why should she? She did need to turn this conversation onto safer paths, though. Somehow a casual conversation with Oakes had a way of getting way too close very quickly. “What about you? What did you do before the Secret Service got a hold of you?”

  “Work, you mean?” When Ari nodded, Oakes said, “I did wait tables for a while—not in a diner like this, but in my grandparents’ restaurant. They owned a resort in the Blue Ridge Mountains, with a little café that went with it. Just open during the summer. It’s been in the family for a hundred years. I worked there summers at the counter.”

  “Really. That sounds awesome,” Ari said.

  “I don’t know how awesome you’d find it, with not much to do except hike, bike, and read. They didn’t even have decent internet until the last few years.”

  Ari laughed. “Okay, I’d find it a little difficult without the internet, being a compulsive news junkie, but the biking and hiking part sounds okay. Of course, my experience doing either is at a resort in the Berkshires. Something about what you describe sounds like a
whole lot more fun.”

  “Looking back, it was,” Oakes said.

  “Do they still own the place?”

  “Retired and moved to year-round warmer climes. My parents didn’t want to take it over, but one of my cousins did. She seems to be making a go of it, even though places like that aren’t as popular as they used to be. Everybody wants amenities.”

  “Sometimes, getting away from the amenities is exactly what we need.” Ari’s plan for a few hours on the sea seemed like a long time ago now, but the time for regrets was past. She’d made her choice.

  “I don’t know,” Oakes mused. “I can’t remember the last time I actually had a vacation.”

  “You do get them, right?” Ari sounded genuinely curious.

  “Yeah, we do. But like as not, they get changed at the last minute.”

  “I guess in your line of work, your time is never really your own.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Oakes said. “They don’t keep anything secret about the job when you sign up.” She laughed. “Well, that’s not literally true. Obviously.”

  Ari sighed and rose. “Well, I guess if we’re going to be ready for tomorrow, we’d better get some sleep.”

  Oakes followed Ari outside, and when Ari turned right toward the Kennedy-Warren, Oakes said, “I’ll walk you back.”

  “It’s really not far, and not necessary.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Shaking her head, Ari said, “You’re chivalrous.”

  Oaks laughed. “Well, now there is something I’ve never been accused of before.”

  “It’s really not an accusation, you know.”

  “Well, then,” Oakes said quietly, “thank you.”

  “What about you?” Ari said. “You’re going to end up walking home alone now. Are you sure you don’t need my protection?”

  “I’m only twenty minutes away on Nineteenth. Makes it an easy commute.” She lowered her voice. “And besides, I’m armed.”

  “True. In that case, I won’t worry about you.”

  “Well, then,” Oaks said, surprised by her reluctance to leave. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Oakes.”