Chapter 20
The White House
Lura sat perched on the edge of her desk chair, fingers hovering uselessly over her keyboard, eyes gritty from lack of sleep.
Air travel always left her with a headache. Something about the rapid change in pressure.
She’d kicked off her shoes and gone straight to bed, hoping to catch a couple hours of sleep before her alarm screamed its wakeup call and she was forced to shower and head for the office.
Alas…sleep had eluded her. Her mind had been far too full.
She would’ve liked to say her thoughts had been dominated by the Black Knights. By the electric hum of their shop, by the steady discipline belied by their cocky swaggers, by the sheer thrill of rubbing elbows with the president’s very own covert fast response force.
She would’ve liked to say her brain had been preoccupied with thoughts of the rescue operation underway when she took off from Chicago. With Sabrina Greenlee, and whether or not she’d made it home safely. With Kerberos and their unlikely insertion into the whole mix.
And, sure, all of that had crossed her mind. But what had kept her staring at the ceiling all night as headlights painted undulating shadows across the drywall was…
Graham Coleburn.
Heaven help her, she hadn’t been ready to run into him.
Not just because he was a blast from the past in the middle of a present-day fiasco. Although that was enough to throw anyone for a loop. But because she’d been unprepared to feel…
What?
What exactly was it that Graham made her feel?
Attraction, of course. But that was no surprise.
Before his mother’s death, he’d been a walking advertisement for testosterone. Bravado and a Southern charm had spilled off him in syrupy waves, and he’d had every girl in grades nine through twelve swooning.
But now, she felt…
What?
It was more than remembered attraction. More than nostalgic lust. More than mere enchantment over a pretty face and a Vin Diesel voice and body that looked as solid and as immovable as fortress walls.
Intrigued, she decided.
She was intrigued by him.
By how he had the same slow drawl despite having spent almost twenty years hell and gone from Rabun County. By how his once laughing green eyes now held deep shadows. By how he was so much the same and yet so…different.
It’d been a long time since she’d been intrigued by a man.
On second thought, had she ever been intrigued by a man?
Much to her Southern momma’s chagrin, Lura had spent the last fifteen years focused on college and her career instead of marriage and providing grandbabies. She hadn’t been a nun, by any means. But men had come and gone out of her life as easily as houseplants.
One minute, they were there and thriving. The next, they’d meet their inevitable end because she couldn’t be bothered to tend to them like they wanted or needed.
C’est la vie.
She had more important things to do. More important things to think about.
But Graham Coleburn felt…different.
More than once, she’d caught herself watching him too closely. More than once, she’d wondered how time could turn a small-town boy who’d loved fishing and football into a man who was basically the real-life version of James Bond. More than once, she’d—
“Miss Dougherty!”
Leonard Meadows’s voice cracked like a whip through Fiona Apple’s husky voice crooning, “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”
“Coming!” Lura called, pulling out her AirPod and grabbing her tablet. She held it in front of her like a shield as she scurried across the small room.
“Yes, sir?” After she pushed into the chief of staff’s office, she forced a bland smile and thumbed on her device, ready to take notes.
“Close the door behind you.”
She blinked. That was…unusual. He seldom asked for privacy when it was just the two of them.
After easing the door shut, she faced him again with what she hoped was a calm, composed expression.
His desk was organized chaos as usual. His posture was military straight as usual. But there was something new in the set of his jaw, in the sharpness of his eyes behind the glint of his glasses.
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted and she had to grit her teeth to keep from rubbing a hand over them.
“How was it at Black Knights Inc.?”
It was said breezily. But something about the weight of the question seemed to fill all the space in the room.
“Uhhh.” She had to stop and clear her throat. “It was…enlightening,” she finished carefully.
“Enlightening.” He rolled the word around in his mouth like he was tasting it. “How so?”
“The Black Knights are even more impressive than I imagined.”
“Impressive in what way?”
Okay, this is getting weird.
Didn’t he know more about them than she did? Hadn’t he been with the president when she handpicked the men on the team? Didn’t he send his own daughter to work for them?
She was tempted to cover her hesitation with another uhhh. But that would make her sound dumb and make him annoyed at the delay. Instead, she cocked her head and twisted her mouth as if trying to find the right words to capture her thoughts.
“They’re more cohesive and tight-knit than I thought they’d be. Not just cohorts and colleagues, but family.”
His eyes narrowed. It was slight. But she saw it. And it deepened her discomfort.
He was probing her.
But for what?
What was he after?
“And were they successful in bringing their social media guru home?”
She blinked in surprise. “I…don’t know. I thought you would know. Haven’t they checked in?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Again, it was slight. But again, she saw it. “They have not.”
“Is that…um…unusual for them?” she asked carefully.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, voice low. “Did anything odd happen while you were there?”
She swallowed. But the spit stuck in her throat.
“I think the entire concept of a private security firm working directly for the president while hiding their identities behind the facade of a custom bike shop is pretty odd. Are you looking for something more specific than that?” She forced a small smile to lessen the tension in the air.
He didn’t return the gesture. “Did they determine why the woman was taken?”
She thought of the message sent from Kerberos. But something in her gut warned her not to mention it.
“She was taken for the money, I assume. Why else?”
His frown deepened.
“Sir, is there something in particular you’re driving at? I feel like—”
“Call them.”
“What?” Her chin jerked back so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash.
“Call them and ask them if their mission was successful. You spent the day with them. It’d be natural for you to want to know how things turned out.”
“I…” she faltered. “I don’t know any of their numbers. I don’t have—”
“Call their business line.” He waved a dismissive hand, as if that made everything so simple.
“But I thought you didn’t want any correspondence coming from the White House? Isn’t that why I had to fly—”
“Don’t get into specifics.” He cut her off, clearly exasperated that he needed to explain himself. “Just ask if they were successful and leave it at that.”
Lura nodded jerkily and slowly backed out of the office, but her mind was absolutely spinning.
Why ask her to call and demand details when they reported to him…er…the president, but also him by proxy? Why not just pick up the phone himself?
Of course, part of her didn’t care what his reasons were. Because part of her was glad for any excuse to reach out to BKI. Glad for any excuse to hear Graham Coleburn’s voice again.
She hurried to her desk and quickly set aside her tablet. But before she could google BKI’s business number, a whisper of doubt curled around her heart.
What am I missing here?