Chapter Thirty-Seven
The apartment door shut behind Hagan, and heartache exploded deep in Amanda’s heart, pinching so tight she couldn’t breathe.
“Honey.” Mom shook Amanda’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She collapsed into her mother’s arms. “No.”
Dad came up behind them and petted her hair. “It will be okay, kiddo.”
She didn’t have the strength to remind him that not everyone had it as lucky as her parents. Amanda sniffled and wiped her eyes. “How did you know I was home?”
“Halle emailed and said something happened on your trip, that you came home.” Mom’s eyebrows inched up. “Anything you’d like to share?”
“Not right now.” Amanda could only deal with one crisis at a time. “That was thoughtful of her, I guess.”
Mom gestured toward the luggage parked against the wall. “We weren’t aware that your friend was involved.”
It was only a matter of time before Mom would break out science analogies amidst her questions. Amanda had no choice but to give them more details. “I didn’t know that he was Dylan’s younger brother.”
“If you didn’t ask, and he didn’t say…” Dad frowned. “Why would he think that you knew?”
She stared at the ceiling. “It was obvious Jared Westin and Parker Black knew.” Tears burned the back of her throat. “And that I was the reason they didn’t speak up.”
Dad’s cell phone chirped, and he quickly unclipped it from his belt and read the screen. “I’m sorry. I have to get back.”
They’d been here longer than she could’ve expected. Besides, if they left, no one would remind her how stupid her contracts and rules had been. “It’s fine. I’ll come over for lunch soon—”
“I’m free for the rest of the day,” Mom volunteered.
“How’d you manage that?” Dad asked.
“Someone phoned in a threat to free the test animals in the science building.”
“Mom.” Amanda scowled. “You test animals in the labs?”
“No.” Mom scoffed. “I suspect someone wasn’t ready for an exam. If so, they got their wish. Campus is closed for the day.”
The cell phone chirped again. “That’s my cue. I have to run.” Dad hugged Amanda. “Bye, kiddo.” Then he laid a smooch on Mom that made Amanda turn away.
The majority of the security detail left with Dad. Mom’s detail remained in the hallway and outside the building. Once the entourage had left, Amanda fell apart again. Mom coaxed her onto the couch and went into the kitchen to set a kettle on the stove.
She returned to Amanda’s side. “Dylan’s younger brother—”
“Hagan.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them to her chest.
“He’s the man you kicked.”
She pressed her forehead into her kneecaps and moaned. “Yeah.”
Mom sat down and rubbed Amanda’s back. “He’s a handsome guy.”
“I know.” Amanda leaned against her mom. “It turns out I’m not a robot.”
Mom sighed. “So, you liked him?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“You like him a lot?” Mom put an arm around Amanda. “Something more?”
Amanda translated into a language her mother might understand. “He agitates my molecules.”
Mom laughed. “That’s a good thing, baby.”
“Not really, Mom.”
“Miscommunications won’t ruin agitation.” She crossed her leg and hummed, quietly teasing, “If that’s not an example of scientific law, I don’t know what is.”
“We’re pretty far beyond a miscommunication.” Amanda sniffled. “He hates me, and I don’t blame him.”
The kettle whistled, and Mom stood. “If he’s part of Dylan’s family, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. You two just need time.”
“I wish I had your optimism,” she muttered.
“Maybe it comes with age.” Mom lifted her hands, then walked into the kitchen. The kettle stopped whistling. The mugs clanked on the counter, and she called, “Why don’t you call Halle? She could always use a girls’ night in.”
Halle was surprisingly easy to convince, and an hour later, she arrived with three pints of ice cream as Mom opened the microwave to make popcorn. Amanda queued up her Netflix, and they settled in with their junk food.
Seven o’clock rolled around, and like clockwork, the Secret Service’s shifts changed. Amanda didn’t recognize the agent but found comfort in their routine. Same stations, same rotation, no matter who worked the detail.
Maybe that was the problem with her rules and contracts. The presidential detail allowed for a routine with moving parts. Amanda never allowed for deviation, believing she’d never change. Got that wrong…This was an awful way to learn her lesson.
Halle excused herself to take a call near the end of the movie. Mom had fallen asleep on the couch sometime after that. Amanda made it her duty to finish off her mom’s ice cream and pick at Halle’s popcorn until she returned, somewhat more sour than normal.
Amanda paused the movie. “Everything okay on your call?”
“Yeah.” Halle waved for her to turn the movie back on, then struggled to find a comfortable place on the floor, fidgeting until the credits roll ended.
“Maybe I should call Hagan,” Amanda mumbled and tossed the remote on the floor. “Or maybe not.”
“That’s my vote,” Halle added. “Let him wait.”
Amanda frowned. “It’s not like he’s in the wrong.”
Halle shrugged. “So long as it’s just us tonight.”
That made Amanda smile. Just like they avoided guy-talk, they generally didn’t stretch girls’ nights in. Halle was too high-strung to sit around and do nothing. “Maybe we should do this more often.”
Halle didn’t look well. “Maybe.”
Mom stirred and stretched, yawning. “Did I miss the end?”
“Not by much,” Amanda said.
“That’s okay, I’ve seen it a time or two.” Mom checked the time. “Later than I thought.” She turned to Amanda. “Are you doing better?”
“Yeah, I think so. It’s been a long day.” Mom’s yawn was contagious. “Woke up on the other side of the world today.”
“I’ll head out then.” Mom picked up her phone. “Let me give the guys a heads-up…that’s weird.”
Amanda wished Hagan would’ve texted her. Maybe he thought she should be the one to reach out. She stared at her phone. No service?
“I don’t have any service,” Mom murmured.
Amanda’s stomach turned. “Halle, your phone worked, right?”
Mom slipped her shoes on again and walked toward the apartment door. Amanda held her phone at different angles, watching for the service bars to change. Mom gasped. “Oh, God!”
Halle and Amanda jumped to their feet and rushed to Mom.
“What?” Amanda asked.
Halle glanced into the hallway. “Oh, shit.” She slammed the door shut. “Breach. Man down.”
“What?” Amanda pulled Mom down the hall. Who would know where the First Lady was? “Stay here.” She checked the security system base, unable to request the screen change. It wasn’t disabled. Frozen? Hell, it didn’t matter. “We don’t have a way to communicate.”
“We have to get your mom out of here.” Halle hurried by Amanda.
She followed into her guest bedroom and loaded weapons from her closet. It wasn’t as if Amanda had an arsenal at her place. They just had to protect Mom and get to the agents on the perimeter. “Let’s go.”
Mom shook on the couch, and it was the first time Amanda had seen her mother frightened. “Who would do this?”
“Dr. Hearst.” Halle reached for Mom’s hand. “Doesn’t matter right now. We have to go.”
“Where?” Mom asked.
Halle eyed Amanda. “Fire escape?”
That’d drop them close to a perimeter checkpoint. “Yes.”
Halle gnawed on her lip. “Shooter could be out there.”
“The shooter could be anywhere…” Amanda fumbled to make sense of the delay. “But we’re certain where they’ve been. We take the fire escape and keep moving.”
“Better than waiting, sitting ducks.” Halle led them toward Amanda’s bedroom, edging around the corners.
Amanda opened the window, and they crawled onto the rickety platform. It groaned under their weight. They stayed close to Mom, searching for the threat and climbing as fast as they could move together.
Halle stopped on the third floor. “Stuck.” Her eyes widened as if this was the one thing she might not be able to control. “Too far to jump.”
Amanda eyed the alley and agreed.
“Why don’t they see us?” Mom cried.
Amanda had no idea.
Halle attacked the rusted ladder with a fervor Amanda had never seen until the old thing dropped, panting, “Go.”
They hurried down the ladder until they reached the alley and ran with their arms around her mother. Amanda’s stomach twisted. Agents should’ve jumped out, weapons drawn. Nothing happened. They reached the checkpoint SUV.
“Fuck,” Halle cried.
Amanda’s stomach revolted. Two dead agents still in their seats. “Not again…”
Halle ripped open the driver's door and removed the downed agent. “Amanda! Get your mom in.”
Tears fell as Amanda pushed her mother into the back seat, then she rushed to the passenger side and fought against the dead agent’s weight, removing him from the seat. “I’m so sorry.”
“Damn it, Amanda,” Halle yelled. “Get your ass in the car.”
With one more apology, Amanda jumped in.
Halle floored the gas before Amanda closed the door. “Call someone.”
Amanda fumbled for her cell phone. “No signal?” She searched the comm system and computer attached to the dashboard console. “Disabled. What’s going on?”
Halle made a sharp turn and checked her mirrors. Amanda twisted to Mom but had no idea what to say.
“Your father will fix—” Mom’s voice cracked. Tears spilled free. “Those poor men.”
The SUV made a hard turn. Amanda and Mom fell to the side. Halle braked. Amanda looked out the window, not seeing why they’d stopped. “What’s the matter?”
Halle opened the center console. Smoke exploded inside the SUV. Amanda choked on the instantaneous slap of gas. Mom coughed and sputtered then keeled to the side. Halle covered her face with a mask.
“What are you doing?” Didn’t matter. Amanda had to get out. The door wouldn’t budge. The window wouldn’t lower. She could break it, but her arms were too heavy to reach for her gun. Amanda fell toward Halle, begging for help, but saw her best friend, unmoving.
Everything went black.