Chapter 9 #2
“Exactly. I loved the Navy, being part of a team. The team mindset is even stronger with the SEALs. We learned to depend on each other for our lives.”
“Tell me about some of your missions.”
His eyes flicked her way. “I can’t talk about most of them. But I did get to be a guard at Camp David for a year. Met the president and his family.”
“That’s amazing. What did you think?”
“I wasn’t in the room with them. That’s the Secret Service’s job.
I just guarded the grounds. But I was there when the helicopter brought them.
The president and his wife could’ve just hurried inside, but they lingered and chatted.
The president cracked jokes. He was surprisingly funny and very personable. ”
“What an honor.”
“It was.”
“And what about college? Did you do that?”
“Working on it.” Before she could ask, he said, “Double major, political science and criminal justice. I plan to apply for the FBI or Secret Service.”
“You’d be good at either one.”
He lifted one shoulder and let it drop.
“You should ask my dad for a recommendation when the time comes.”
He nodded slowly, a grimace crossing his features as if he didn’t like the taste of that idea. Finally, he said, “I’d like to think I can get there on my own merits.”
“Don’t worry about that. My dad won’t recommend you without cause. This—saving my life, keeping me safe—is cause.”
He made a sound low in his throat that might have been agreement.
They poked along on the narrow road, passing through a small town. It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday, one of the last days of the summer, and traffic was building as they skirted the north edge of the Boston metro.
“How about you?” Asher asked. “Why jewelry?”
“I wish I could say something…corny. You know, like I wanted to provide gemstones to the needy.”
He chuckled, and the sound buoyed her spirits. She liked that she could make him laugh.
She couldn’t help but be a little self-conscious about her life choices. Here she was with a man who used the word duty in everyday language while she spent her time assessing baubles.
“You built a business and fulfill a need.” Asher glanced her way. “As long as your work is honest, your work is valuable.”
“That’s a good way to look at it.”
Silence reigned until he prompted again. “So…why jewelry?”
“We went to a festival when I was seven or eight, and there was a jewelry store where you could watch the jewelers work through the windows. I was mesmerized. I remember thinking how lucky those people were to get to work with such beautiful stones.”
“But you don’t design jewelry, right? Or do you?”
“I did, back in high school, but I couldn’t afford real gemstones, and working with crystals and colored glass didn’t do it for me.
I realized my real passion lay with the stones themselves.
I find it fascinating the way they’re formed deep in the earth.
Think of it. These bits of minerals and chemicals surrounded by dirt and rock.
But because there’s just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of those minerals and chemicals, little bits of seemingly random things turn into rubies or sapphires or emeralds. I mean, it’s amazing.”
He flicked his gaze toward her hand, and she figured he was looking at all the jewelry she’d put back on that morning.
She was always scouring estate sales and pre-owned cases at the stores she visited, looking for deals. And she often found them. Her ability to appraise gemstones made it easy for her to skim past the trash and home in on the treasures.
“It’s good you do something you love.” His tone held no irony or scorn. He seemed genuine, which she appreciated.
“It’s not important like what you do.”
“It’s important. That ruby necklace in your purse is important to the Ballentine family. An heirloom. I bet there are people who appreciate being able to put a value to what they own, maybe even raise money to pay their bills.”
“My mother always told us to follow our passion, that God gave us passions for a reason. I think she was paraphrasing someone else, but she once said, ‘Maybe your dreams aren’t dreams at all. Maybe they’re God’s to-do list.’” Cici shrugged, feeling self-conscious.
“No idea why God cares about jewelry, but I guess He cares about what we care about. Anyway, I took Mom’s advice.
I mean, you have to spend forty hours a week or more at work. You might as well enjoy it.”
“And you do.”
“I love it.”
“Forty hours?”
She laughed. “More than that most of the time, and of course there are aspects to my job that I don’t like. Writing reports isn’t fun. But what job is a hundred percent enjoyable?”
“None that I’ve found.”
“You like being a bodyguard?”
“Most of the time. For me, the hard parts are usually related to the people I’m guarding.”
“Oh, no. I hope you don’t consider me one of the hard parts.”
“You’re not on that list.” He chuckled, his smile transforming his face. “Yet.”
“Thanks for the ‘yet.’”
Her remark earned another chuckle.
“I bet you have some stories.”
All that got was a slow nod.
“Care to share?”
Before he could answer, the navigation system interrupted, and he turned left at the next intersection.
His eyes flicked to the rearview, then narrowed.
“Everything okay?”
Again, he checked the rearview. “I think so.”
She didn’t love the hesitation that came before his answer. “What is it?”
“Probably nothing.”
She twisted to look behind them. A beige sedan followed, maybe fifty yards back. She faced forward again. “Something suspicious?”
“It’s been back there a while.”
They were on a four-lane road. He sped past a car on the right, then continued going what she guessed was at least twenty miles over the speed limit.
“They can’t possibly have found us,” she said.
“Mmm-hmm.”
The man clammed up when he was worried. Good to know.
“Hang on.” He ran a yellow light, then banged a last-second left that had her bracing her hand on the ceiling as the tires screeched on the asphalt.
They were on a narrower road now, only two lanes, flanked by homes set a good fifty yards back on each side.
This was an upscale neighborhood with perfectly landscaped lawns and expensive cars in the driveways.
She looked back again.
The sedan was still there.
Asher uttered a low curse word, then an apology only louder by a degree.
“How could they have found us?”
“No idea.”
“But you think that’s them?”
“Who else would follow us?”
She was shifting in her seat to watch the trailing car when Asher slammed on the brakes, jostling her and everything else in the car.
He narrowly avoided crashing into a green pickup that pulled out in front of them and turned left.
Behind them, the pickup did a quick U-turn, joining the sedan.
“What’s going on, Asher?”
“They knew we were coming.”
“How?”
He didn’t answer. Obviously, if he knew how they’d been found, it wouldn’t have happened.
What mattered now was getting away from the men in the two vehicles that were closing in. She had no idea how they were going to escape this time.