Chapter 8 #2
Ignoring her earlier self-imposed rule, Janie reached down and covered it with her palm.
“I’m okay, Emmett.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault.”
The sexy operative’s focus slid from her beseeching gaze to where their hands were joined. When she followed his line of sight, her heart thumped wildly inside her chest.
“You’re safe here.” He didn’t look up as he spoke. “I know it probably doesn’t mean much after what happened last night, but I promise, I will keep you safe.”
“I know you will.” Janie’s hold on him tightened. “But you are wrong about it not meaning much.”
That last part garnered her a deep frown.
“What do you mean?”
“Your being here, knowing I’m not facing whatever this is alone?” She stared back at him with sincerity. “It means something, Emmett. It means a lot.”
They were standing mere inches apart, literally hand-in-hand. Heat flared behind his darkening stare as it dropped lower, to her mouth. Janie’s lips parted slightly, her breaths coming a bit faster. Her ears filled with the sound of her racing pulse.
Emmett leaned in close, his intention crystal clear. He was going to kiss her. Any second, those enticing lips would be on hers.
She moved toward him, planning to meet the sexy protector half-way. But then—
They bolted apart as if the air between them had erupted, when in reality, it was simply the ringing of Emmett’s phone.
A low curse was growled as he shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling the blaring device free. “It’s Gwen,” he announced after having looked at the screen. “I have to take this.”
“Of course.”
He answered the call with the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
Janie kept her expression schooled while willing her racing heart to return to a more controllable rhythm.
“The TV?” Emmett frowned.
Janie watched as he turned to make his way into the living room area. He picked up a remote and turned on the flatscreen that was mounted high on the fireplace stone.
“What’s going on?” She hurriedly joined him. “Did something happen?”
Before he could answer, another woman’s voice sounded from the TV. An anchorwoman appeared to be in the process of delivering her viewers some important news.
“A source close to the investigation revealed the body that was discovered in the shallow waters of the Potomac earlier this morning belonged to a twenty-two-year-old woman named Amy Weaver. According to the source, Miss Weaver was working as a White House Press Office intern at the time of her death. An autopsy is scheduled for later today, but preliminary findings are leading investigators to believe the young woman’s death was a result of suicide.
This is a developing story, and we will bring you more information as it becomes available.
Until then, we return you to your regularly scheduled programming. ”
“Oh, God.”
“I’ll call you back.” Emmett ended the call and came over to where she stood. “Janie, I’m—”
“It wasn’t suicide,” she interrupted. “Please tell me you don’t actually believe what they’re saying.”
He shook his head slowly. “After last night? Not a chance.”
Relief blanketed her, but the respite was fleeting. She knew in her gut that Amy didn’t kill herself. And that meant—
She was murdered.
What she’d assumed was simply a story worth chasing was quickly becoming a fight for survival. If the news was right, and the poor girl really was dead, Amy had already lost.
But Janie was still here, and she was still very much alive. And she had Emmett and his teammates at her side.
I won’t let them get away with this, Amy. I promise, I will make them pay for what they’ve done.
“Let me guess. Your boss sent you here because he’s seen the news.”
Chris held back his response until he sat down on the bench, joining the man only known to him as Billy. “You say that like there was a chance that he wouldn’t.”
They remained close enough to hear each other’s muttered voices while not making their familiarity noticeable to those around them.
Billy shrugged. “One can always hope.”
Chris slid a casual glance his way, assuming the ballcap and dark lenses the deadly man wore were more about concealing his identity than protecting his face from the sun. “Boss said you told him they wouldn’t find a body.”
“Of course, he did.” Billy looked around, appearing to take in the scenery as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Your boss gets himself all worked up and ends up hearing about half of everything I say.”
“So what did you tell him?” Chris asked with little patience.
“That there wasn’t anything to stress about if the body showed up.”
“You should have made sure it didn’t.”
Billy turned his shaded gaze his way. “You telling me how to do my job?”
“I’m just saying, no body, no crime.”
“And I’m saying it’s all good. So how ’bout you let me do my job, and I won’t tell you how to do yours. Speaking of which . . .” Billy glanced down at his watch. “Aren’t you expected at the White House soon?”
Chris just smiled, not surprised in the least that the man knew his daily schedule. “Just make sure we’re in the clear on this.” He pushed himself from the bench. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.”
“There usually is.”
“He’ll be OCOTUS for the next few days,” he revealed.
“Out of the country, eh?” Billy unwrapped a piece of gum before folding it into his mouth. “Tell your boss I said safe travels.”
“He wants the Reynolds woman handled before he gets back. Take her, but don’t kill her. And if I were you, I’d do it sooner rather than later.”
“So what? Now I’m a babysitter?”
Chris shot Billy a glare from behind his polarized lenses. “You’re whatever he wants you to be.”
Billy responded to the warning look with a tilt of his head and a smile. “So are you, you know?”
“Just let me know when you’ve got her,” Chris growled.
Message delivered, he turned his back on the killer and walked away. Less than thirty minutes later, he was in the secured, underground parking garage the public didn’t know existed.
Chris got out of his car, retrieving his equipment from the vehicle’s back seat. Once his utility belt had been fastened securely in place, he leaned in and grabbed his vest. The heavy, protective gear slid over his head with ease, its hidden ceramic plate designed to shield his vital organs.
With the vest in place and its straps secured, Chris locked his car and started for the elevators a few yards away. Across his back were bold, reflective white letters.
United States Secret Service.