Chapter 30
T he next morning, Amelia dragged herself out of bed, not bothering to complain about the unearthly hour Maggie had to rise in order to get ready and catch her train. As promised, she did Maggie’s hair and makeup.
“Literally, I have never looked better,” Maggie said, surveying herself in the mirror. “And I know how I usually look when I wake up, so believe me when I say you’re talented at this, Amelia.”
“I know,” Amelia agreed. They hugged and kissed goodbye. Maggie grabbed her coffee and half jogged to make her train. It would not do to be late on her first day back after so many days away.
Arriving at work brought her a sense of comfort she hadn’t expected. These were her people now, and this was her place. Everything and everyone were familiar, even her dumpy little cubicle felt homey and welcoming after a harrowing few days away.
Soon after she arrived, Ridge swept by, on the way to his office after a meeting. He didn’t seem to look at her, but a couple of minutes later her phone buzzed with a text.
There are no words for how good you look.
Are there actions? she asked.
Great, now I’m going to be thinking about that while I talk to the president .
Are you joking with me? ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO MEET WITH THE PRESIDENT? Maggie was so excited, her fingers fumbled over the text.
Yes. Turns out the terror attack was even bigger than we first realized. He wants to personally thank the agency responsible for averting it, and the Colonel wants me to come along.
That is amazing. Take pictures and maybe some soap from the White House? She had no idea if the White House had special soap, but she assumed so.
I’m not sure stealing from the White House is the way to go right now, but I’ll try to snap a photo. Also, you’re coming with me.
Ha, good one , she texted, smiling.
“Not joking,” he said, now standing in front of her desk. He gave it a tap. “Come with me, you’ve been summoned.”
She stared up at him with a smile, still certain it was a joke. “That’s not funny.”
“That’s because I’m not kidding. Come on, this isn’t the kind of thing you want to be late for, Cinderella.” He reached out a hand to her. When she failed to take it, he came around the desk, grasped her arm, hauled her to a standing position, grabbed her purse, and frog marched her toward the elevator.
“I can’t meet the president,” she said when they were in the elevator.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I haven’t mentally prepared myself. ”
“You mean you haven’t spent hours obsessing over everything that could go wrong,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you ahead of time.” He tapped his temple. “I know you, and you’re welcome.”
She put her face in her hands then, remembering the perfect makeup job Amelia had done that morning, immediately dropped them. “I can’t. I can’t.”
He didn’t answer. They reached the ground floor. He took her hand and guided her through security. Once outside, a car was waiting for them, one of the ubiquitous black town cars used to transport government officials anywhere they needed to go. Apparently if you were important enough, the government began to doubt your ability to drive yourself places.
“Cam, I can’t meet the president,” she said once they were safely tucked inside the vehicle. Was she having a panic attack? Did a panic attack feel like a boa constrictor was giving her a hug?
“No choice now, baby, we’re on our way.” He rested his hand on her leg, nudging her dress up slightly so he was touching bare thigh.
“Have you ever met the president before?” she asked.
“Not this one, the last one, when I was a SEAL.”
“Why would a SEAL meet the…Did you get a medal?”
He held up his thumb and first finger, pinched together. “A little one.”
“What kind of crazy, mixed up world have you recruited me into, Cameron Ridge?”
“My world,” he said, giving her leg a squeeze. He smiled in a way that made her forget the president, forget everything but him for a while. “I like your hair.”
“I like your face,” she returned, and he laughed .
“Does Amelia leave today?”
“As we speak, probably,” she said.
“So maybe tonight would be a good time to talk,” he suggested. “Want to go out?”
She shook her head. “I’ll cook.”
“I love it when you cook for me,” he admitted.
“I know, that’s why I do it,” she said.
“You’re very good at taking care of me,” he noted.
“I could say the same about you.”
“No, you go over and above. You make sure I’m fed and watered, bring me clothes at work, make real food for me when I’ve been eating takeout too many days to count.”
“What about you? You check my doors and windows before you leave, take out my trash, bring me my favorite treats,” she said.
“You’re forgetting one important thing,” he said. His thumb was making a little circle on the inside of her leg, making it hard to think of anything.
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“I distract you from freaking out when it’s most likely. We’re here.”
She looked around and saw they were under the portico at the White House. “Do I have time to throw up?”
“No. You’ll do fine. Take a breath and enjoy it. Most of the time our job is thankless,” he said.
“I think I prefer it that way,” she said.
“Me too, but this is a blip. It may never happen again. And look on the bright side—if you totally blow it, no one outside this room will ever know. It’s a closed meeting—no press.”
“Thank you, Cameron. I’m completely comforted now,” she said .
He kissed her hand and let it go. It wouldn’t do to arrive at the White House holding hands and making googly eyes at each other like teenagers with a first crush.
A page greeted them at the door and led them to the Blue Room, the actual Blue Room at the White House! Maggie forced herself to stop thinking of everything that way, as if it should be in italics and end with an exclamation point. She was approximately three seconds from hyperventilating and overthinking everything wasn’t helping.
The Colonel and a couple of senior members of the House Intelligence Committee were already waiting on them. They stood as Maggie and Ridge entered. Maggie belatedly realized this was for her benefit as a lady, and she smiled. Men of her generation and ilk didn’t usually observe such quaint and chivalrous manners. The Colonel made the introductions, also for Maggie’s benefit. Ridge apparently already knew the congressmen. Maggie shook hands, resisting the urge to curtsy. They made polite small talk for a few minutes, and then the door opened again. Everyone stood this time, including Maggie, to greet the president. The actual President of the United States! Stop that, Maggie reminded herself, taking a deep breath.
Again the Colonel made the introductions, and Maggie shook the president’s hand. He was taller than he looked on television, and also nicer and more personable.
“Rumor has it you shot a man through the hand. That’s quite a feat for a librarian,” the president said, smiling.
“You should see what I do when someone’s late with a book, sir,” Maggie said without thinking, and the president laughed before moving on to speak with one of the congressmen.
Maggie tossed a glance at Ridge as if to say, I did it. He winked in return, a sly little maneuver no one else noticed. They had tea, complete with tasty, tiny sandwiches Maggie wanted to hoard in her purse and analyze later. I’m having tea at the White House! Stop doing that, she once again reminded herself, aiming for a casual expression, as if tea with the president and congressmen was something she did daily and not out of the ordinary for her boring life.
“Ride with me,” the Colonel said when the meeting was over. Unlike the generic government-issue sedan Maggie and Ridge had arrived in, the Colonel’s car had been fortified to be bullet and bombproof. It was also larger, with two long back seats that faced each other. The Colonel sat on one and Maggie and Ridge sat on the other.
“Maggie, have you given any more thought to my offer?” the Colonel asked.
“I’m sorry, sir, which offer?” Maggie asked, confused.
“To become an assassin,” he replied.
Maggie couldn’t help it, she laughed. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t believe you were serious.”
“I’m dead serious. Someone with your skill set, language capabilities, and charm would be invaluable.”
“Thank you, sir, but I don’t think I could kill a man,” Maggie said.
“No one does until they do it the first time,” he replied. “I know you like to travel, and it would be an interesting way to see the world. Of course you’d need more training, but we would provide that.”
“Pardon me, sir, but Maggie’s a valuable asset I’m not willing to part with,” Ridge interrupted.
“Personally or professionally?” the Colonel asked.
“Both, sir,” Ridge said, patting Maggie’s knee as her cheeks flushed three shades of magenta.
“That part I can understand, but you know the lifespan of an assassin is short, metaphorically speaking. There are only a few good years before the vision begins to fade and the skills wane. You’d be back in plenty of time to settle down and have kids, if that’s your plan,” the Colonel said.
Maggie was certain she would never be part of such an unusual day or bizarre conversation if she lived to be a thousand. Was her boss really suggesting she should travel around killing people before coming home and having babies?
“Those are some wild oats I never imagined sewing,” she said and winced at her own stupidity. Apparently today was her day for blurting ridiculous things to powerful men.
The Colonel laughed, a rusty sound like chains being dragged over a saw. “I want you to think about it and give it due consideration without any influence from your, uh, boss here. These are modern times, Maggie. A woman needs to decide things for herself.”
“Yes, sir,” Maggie agreed. Dear diary, I’m having the weirdest day…
They dropped Maggie at her floor before heading upstairs for a meeting. “Later,” Ridge said, giving her behind a gentle pat as she stepped off the elevator. She swiveled to look at him, open-mouthed with shock.
“Cat’s out of the bag now, hon,” he said, motioning toward the Colonel who regarded her with mild amusement.
“My wife gives me that same look when I’m in trouble,” the Colonel said, and then the doors closed.
The rest of the day was a wash for Maggie. She tried to be productive, but between the morning at the White House, the Colonel’s offer to be an assassin, the upcoming dinner conversation with Ridge, and her coworkers pleas to hear details from her meeting with the president, she got nothing done.
Ridge was still in a meeting when it was time for her to leave. He texted that he might be awhile. She texted back and told him to take his time. She still needed to swing by the market for steaks. The upcoming conversation had the potential to be life changing; the meal should be equally epic.
She had just finished putting the potatoes in the oven and marinating the steaks when he knocked on the door. Maggie ran to answer it, laughing. “Why are you knocking when you have a key?”
“I don’t have a key,” Sam replied, smiling. “But I’d be happy to take one, if you like.”
“Oh,” Maggie said, her mouth going dry as her brain went blank.
“I was just released from federal custody, and this is my first stop. May I come in?” he asked.
She glanced at the street behind him. No sign of Ridge. As much as she needed to talk with Ridge, she also needed to talk with Sam. After a few seconds mental debate, she moved out of the way of the door, inviting him inside.