Chapter Three
Election Fundraiser — Chicago, Illinois
The ballroom was crowded as I trailed Lennon around it, forcing my way through the well-dressed partygoers in order to keep up with the blue gown-clad omega.
It had been a week since we’d met Lennon Holloway and she was still trying her damndest to show us just how unhappy she was with the current situation.
And I couldn’t really blame her.
Maverick had shoved his whole foot into his mouth on that first day and had set the tone for our working relationship.
Then there were his rules.
Maverick had always been a stickler for them. When we were in spaces where the political situation was hairier than most, the diplomats we were protecting were usually all-too-happy to comply.
But stateside with an omega who, outside of her initial kidnapping attempt, had never experienced being the true target of violence?
She was bucking against every new rule with a fervor that impressed even Dallas who was still busy pretending like she didn’t exist half of the time.
It was clear to me that Greg Brady had done everything in his power to keep Lennon naive to all of the things he was doing to protect her, which was a bit of a double-edged sword now that the threats were very real.
Lennon had no clue about the hundreds of people on watchlists because of what they were saying about her online, nor did she realize that the Secret Service and the FBI were tracking several of those individuals’ daily movements.
Maverick had begrudgingly agreed to keep Lennon in the dark, but he also asserted that the level of protection that Lennon would need when she was on the campaign trail meant that she would probably be uncomfortable for the next few months.
One of us was with her at all times, even in the residence, and any unsanctioned outings or activities were off the table.
We stuck to our schedule to a T. No ice cream trips, no impromptu visits to her assistant who was still on medical leave, and if she wanted to go anywhere, she would have to let Maverick know with forty-eight hours of notice.
Lennon hated it, but I knew what made it worse was that Arthur McDaniels had signed off on it all with the blessing of POTUS.
Dipping around a couple that was laughing together, I hurried to keep Lennon within an arm’s length as she greeted a group of senators.
“Ms. Holloway, it’s always lovely to see you at these things!” Senator Cambria exclaimed, her gaze traveling over Lennon’s shoulder to me. “And Ezekiel, I’d heard rumors that you were on her protection detail, but nothing concrete. I’m sure your father is ecstatic to have you back in town finally.”
I stiffened uncomfortably at her words as Lennon shot me a confused look over her shoulder.
Senator Cambria was one of my father’s closer colleagues as they worked on several committees together.
Her presence here probably meant that my father was somewhere nearby.
Suddenly, I was filled with the desire to swap out with one of the guys who were stationed around the outskirts of the ballroom.
But my luck seemed to have run out for the evening because I felt a familiar hand clap me on the shoulder as my father beamed at the other senator.
“Both Yukiko and I are extremely happy, Stacy. It’s been so long since we’ve had him close by,” my father said as he joined our small circle.
Lennon seemed to finally connect the dots, her gray eyes shifting to meet mine. “You’re Senator Adams’s son?”
“Our youngest that I was telling you about a few months ago,” my father answered for me, oblivious to my clear discomfort.
“You actually met once before when you were both younger. Zeke here hates all of the attention that being on the Hill brings, but I love being able to see him in action, it’s like my son has turned into James Bond all of a sudden. ”
The rest of the people in our small circle laughed at my father’s joke, and despite my best efforts, I felt my cheeks and ears start to burn red.
My skin always betrayed my emotions, flushing at the drop of a hat, and my father reached up and gave my hair a ruffle like I was five rather than a fully grown man who was at work.
“Senator Adams, you can’t tease my security detail,” Lennon said, her voice light with a joke that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You should wait until Agent Adams is off shift before you make jokes like that.”
My father’s hands slid away from me as he held his hands up good naturedly. “You’re right, Ms. Holloway, I was so excited to see Zeke that I forgot he was on duty.”
“It happens,” Lennon said with an easy shrug, the silk shawl she had wrapped around her shoulders slipping down slightly as she looked at me again with something akin to sympathy in her eyes and it grated on my already frayed nerves.
I didn’t want her to think I was pitiful.
That was the last thing I wanted her to think. “My mother is the same way.”
“Speaking of your mother,” Senator Cambria cut in. “What do you think about…”
Later, once Lennon had freed herself from their political twenty questions, we stepped out onto the balcony and into the surprisingly cool night air. So far July had been blazingly hot, so the drop in temperature was a welcome reprieve.
“I should have made the connection that you were Senator Adams’s son on that first day,” Lennon said as she stared out over the glittering Chicago skyline.
“It’s a pretty common surname,” I offered. “And it’s not like we look alike since I’m adopted.”
Lennon looked over at me, a surprised expression once again lifting her dainty features.
“You look like your mother though,” she pointed out.
A smile tugged at my lips. “Technically we are related. She was my biological mother’s sister. She died giving birth to me.”
“Oh,” she said on an exhale as if realizing she’d stepped into touchy territory. “I’m so sorry.”
I just shrugged. “I didn’t know her and they didn’t have any other family, so even though Yukiko and Willis were older with nearly grown children, they took me in.”
I was grateful to my parents for giving me the life I had, but sometimes when the pressure of being a senator’s son grew to be too much I wondered what life would have been like growing up in the countryside of Japan with my biological mother.
How much different would my life have been?
Slanting a glance over at the omega next to me, I caught a whiff of fermented cherries in the air before it was gone with a flash.
It tickled my senses, causing the instincts that were usually dulled by the oral suppressants we were required to take every morning to stir as I realized the scent was coming from Lennon.
Shaking off the pleasant shudder that her perfume sent down my spine, I hurried to change the subject.
“I met you once, you know, when I was still in high school.”
“Did you? I mean your father said we met, but I barely remember it,” Lennon commented softly as she took a sip of the champagne that had been clutched in her hand like an accessory the entire night.
I nodded. “It was at one of your grandfather’s Christmas parties.”
Farrow Holloway’s Christmas parties were legendary on the hill and my parents who had long been some of his staunchest allies in his party were always invited. I’d never been allowed to go until my freshman year of high school and at that point it was no longer cool or interesting to me.
It had been a drag trying to find ways to entertain myself while avoiding my parents and my dad’s colleagues who wanted to ooh and ahh over how tall I’d grown and how my voice had changed.
When I’d ducked out onto the front porch of Number One Observatory circle—the vice president’s residence—I’d found her there without a coat and blowing her breath onto her frost-bitten red fingers.
I was pretty sure she was three or so years younger than I was—so at fourteen she’d just been an awkward pre-teen, still figuring out her elbows and knees. Like a baby deer learning how to walk.
We hadn’t spoken then. Just stood together on the porch in the resilient but awkward silence that only teenagers could share.
When I’d seen her again years later during the coverage of President Holloway’s first election, she’d changed into a beautiful young woman who my eyes were inexplicably drawn to. At that point it had been a simple attraction. A crush in passing based off of seeing her face on television.
…I never thought I’d get the chance to be in the same room as her again, let alone be a part of her security detail.
“Did we talk?” Lennon asked, making it clear I’d piqued her curiosity.
I chuckled at her. “No. We stood there for, like ten minutes before you bolted inside.”
After that I’d only caught glimpses of her as she clung to her father’s hand while her mother, already well on her way to laying the groundwork running for her first senatorial election, schmoozed with the crowd.
“Wow, I don’t remember that at all.”
Pressing a hand to my chest, I pretended to be wounded. “Ouch, Ms. Holloway, way to bruise a guy’s ego.”
Lennon’s laugh was bright as she shook her head at my joke. “You’re funnier than you look, Agent Adams.”
“Zeke,” I told her, knowing I was crossing a boundary here but suddenly not caring all that much. “You can call me Zeke when we’re alone.”
Gray eyes widened as her lips silently formed my name before her cheeks pinkened and she took another sip of her champagne.
A flush of a deep cherry scent wafted up between us again, almost too tart to be just regular cherries.
No, Lennon’s scent was like a dizzying cherry wine, so potent that it had me taking a step back away from her and blinking the haze away from my vision.
Reaching into my coat pocket I pulled out the little tin that I kept my oral suppressants in and hurriedly popped on into my mouth before Lennon could see.
They must have been wearing off after such a long day and I made a mental note to set a timer on my phone to remind me to double up on the dose.
The last thing any of us needed was to be thrown off by her sweet scent and do something we’d regret.
“What’s your favorite ice cream?” Lennon asked, suddenly turning to look at me and seemingly oblivious to my struggle with her scent.
I blinked at her, surprised. “Pardon?”
“Your favorite ice cream flavor,” she repeated. “I’m sure you know all about the things that I like and yet I don’t know anything about you or your guys. How unfair is that?”
“Did you know much about your security detail before?” I pointed out, thinking about stone-faced Greg Brady who I couldn’t imagine eating anything sweet.
As if reading my thoughts, Lennon’s nose crinkled with irritation.
“Agent Brady loved rum raisin ice cream. He had children and a wife who he adored. He preferred cats to dogs because they didn’t need to go outside in the rain to go to the bathroom and he always felt bad for dogs in the rain.
He was also an avid crocheter and I have several scarves and hats he made during the years he was the head of my security detail.
So before you assume that I’m some spoiled rich girl that treats her security like inanimate objects, remember that they were like a family to me and a family that died protecting me. ”
Lennon sucked in a long breath, her cheeks flushing as her eyes darted away from mine like she thought that she had said too much.
I sat for a moment, trying to digest her words and finding myself surprised by how much she’d defended her previous security detail.
Most of the people we protected abroad didn’t pay much attention to us. We served a purpose and we did it so well that they never had to think of us much at all, and once we finished our jobs, we moved onto the next one. That was it.
It was one of the reasons we’d stayed with the State department for so long rather than moving over into the Secret Service sooner.
There were no attachments to be had and that suited our team just fine.
But now I realized how lonely that would sound if I said it out loud to her.
The men and women we protected abroad probably couldn’t even remember our names and here was someone who knew her security detail and still mourned their loss months later.
“Chocolate cherry,” I finally said, my shoulders sinking in surrender.
“Pardon?”
Questioning gray eyes shifted up to my face.
“My favorite ice cream flavor. It’s chocolate cherry.”
Kind of like your scent, my mind provided silently and I shoved the thought away. I wasn’t supposed to be able to smell her in the first place.
It had never happened to me when I used oral suppressants before and the re-upping of the medication didn’t seem to be going into effect fast enough for me to not smell the deep, intense cherry scent wafting off of her.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything else, but before I got the chance Maverick’s voice crackled in my ear.
“Adams, where are you and Flicker at?” he asked, sounding annoyed.
He hated when our protectee wasn’t in his line of sight at all times—especially at such a crowded venue.
Turning so that my back was to Lennon, I sighed before responding. “She’s on the balcony. Needed some air.”
“Well get her back in here. Dinner’s about to start and she’s got a speech to give.”
As if she could hear Maverick’s voice in my ear, Lennon shot me a wry grin. “I take it it’s time to head back inside?”
I nodded dumbly and watched as her slender shoulders rose in a long sigh before she downed her glass of champagne and straightened her spine.
“Well?” she asked, plastering the plastic smile of a president’s daughter on her face, the same one she’d been wearing all night.
It was like her own personal version of a suit of armor that deflected any ounce of criticism from the people that were constantly scrutinizing her. “Shall we?”
With that Lennon walked ahead of me, the skirt of her gray-blue evening gown flipping around her as she stepped off of the terrace and back into the glittering ballroom, ready for the rest of the night.