CHAPTER 1 #4
The kind of happy West had spent a decade convincing himself he didn’t want.
Ford spotted him. Grinned. Started walking over.
“West! Ham! You made it!” Ford gave them man hugs, one hand slapping West’s back. “Thanks for coming.”
Ford glanced at his shirt. “What happened to you?”
“Long story.”
“You look like you got in a fight.”
“More like a misunderstanding with some security professionals.”
“Security—” Ford’s eyes widened. “Wait. Was this about Britta?”
Every head in the group turned.
North straightened. Dakota pushed off from the bar. Even Skeet stopped mid-sip of whatever tropical drink he’d already acquired.
“Who’s Britta?” Skeet asked.
“Britta White,” Ford said. “The President’s daughter. Scarlett invited her but she didn’t respond. Are you sure it was her?”
“Um. Yeah. Her detail got a little enthusiastic.”
“Her detail,” Dakota repeated. “As in Secret Service.”
“That would be them.”
“And they ripped your shirt why?”
“Because I maybe interfered with their operation.”
Jayden laughed. Actually laughed. “You interfered with the Secret Service? On purpose?”
“It was an accident.”
“How do you accidentally interfere with a federal protection detail?”
“It’s a long story.”
Silence.
“Fine. She looked like she needed help.”
“Did she ask for help?” This from North.
“No.”
“Did she appear to be in immediate danger?”
“Not exactly.”
“So you just inserted yourself into their operation because—”
“Because she looked wrong. She had this whole disguise thing going on, and these guys were tracking her, and it looked like—” West stopped. Everyone was staring at him. “It looked like she didn’t want to be found.”
“Maybe because she was trying to ditch her detail,” Chloe said gently. “Sometimes people need space. Even people with security teams. Especially people with security teams.”
“Yeah,” West said. “I figured that out. Eventually.”
“After they tackled you,” Skeet said.
“They didn’t tackle me. They firmly encouraged me to stop interfering.”
“While you were on the ground.”
“Technically.”
Skeet raised his drink. “To West. Making friends with federal agents one tackle at a time.”
A few people laughed. The tension broke. Conversation shifted to travel stories, to the island, to wedding plans and whether the weather would hold.
But Ham was still watching him. So were North and Dakota— who’d positioned himself where he could see West’s face clearly.
Scarlett had joined them, looking especially nontactical in her white sundress, flowers tucked behind her ear, radiating that pre-wedding happiness that made everything seem possible.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Even if you did have an interesting airport experience.”
“It was character building.”
“Britta mentioned she was worried about her arrival. Her security detail has been”—Scarlett made a face—“intense. Since New York. The UN thing really shook everyone up. Her detail has been on high alert ever since.”
Which explained the disguise. The desperation. The willingness to risk using fake documents just to attend a wedding.
She’d been running from the cage they’d put her in after the attack.
West’s gut clenched.
“Is she okay?” The question came out before he could stop it.
Scarlett’s expression softened. “I’m sure she is. She’s used to this. Her father’s been a public figure since she was a kid. She’ll probably be here soon.”
Soon.
Three days in close proximity.
Small island. Fifty guests. Nowhere to hide.
No problem.