Page 52 of Tattletale

“No. But they have a couple of pugs that they are obnoxiously affectionate with,” Eden explains. “Mr. Puggles and Lady Puggleton. They dress them up for photo shoots.” She grimaces. “In my humble opinion, it’s like their one flaw. Pugs in little suits, like inMen in Black,are pretty cute, but the frilly French collars? Eh…swing and a miss if you ask me.”

“This is what happens when rich people get bored,” Callen adds.

“They dress dogs up inMen in Black?” I ask.

Lance lets out a loud grumble. “Again, it’s on the list, Cricket. Watch the damn movies. Laugh a bit. Take the stick out of your ass.”

“Are you still talking?” I shoot him a dark glance.

“Hush,” Eden hisses as the door handle turns. My eyes snap to the door and the two figures who enter the room.

Vienne Baker is at least a head taller than Vesper. She’s wearing a sleek, red dress that hugs her body from the neckline down to her ankles. Her long, dark hair is pulled to one side. Outside of her maroon-colored lipstick, she isn’t wearing any makeup. She doesn’t need it. Vienne Baker is a showstopper. Completely flawless. She belongs in old Hollywood, not perched in the White House. Apparently, forty is the new sexy.

“Vienne,” Vesper says, gesturing to us. “This is PALADIN. My team…my family.”

Vienne makes her way to the head of the table. “Good morning.” Her voice is about an octave deeper than I anticipated. She makes eye contact with each of us individually,seeing us…studying us.“I’m so grateful for you all meeting me on short notice like this. I’ll get straight to the point because we don’t have much time. I believe the White House is compromised. My husband is in grave danger, and we need protection.”

“Don’t you have Secret Service for that?” Linc asks.

The First Lady shows him a curt smile. “I don’t need security, Mr. Lincoln,” she says, making a point that she already knows Linc’s name. “What I need is an assassin.”

FOURTEEN

CRICKET

I’m staringat the target, whose picture is pinned to the meeting room corkboard. To put it frankly, he’s gorgeous. Angelic, almost. His hair is jet black and styled like he spends time at the salon. His stubble is very neatly trimmed, just a hint of scruff that smooths out the sharp, masculine angles of his face.

His eyes are a brown so dark, they look almost black, accentuated by his thick, dark eyelashes. In a way, his eyes look menacing, but the thick forest of his eyelashes makes him look like a doll. With features so contradictory, I can’t decide if he’s dangerous, or just plain beautiful.

“What’s his name again?” I ask Vienne.

She crosses her legs and meets my stare. Over the past half hour, I’ve learned a very annoying trait about Vienne. She likes to control a conversation. If you ask a question, she’ll pause, weighing her response as if she’s deciding where to move a pawn on a chessboard. It’s so calculated, it feels disingenuous. Then again, it’s exactly how Vesper acts. Outside of their height difference, these two could be twins—in both their looks and mannerisms.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Vienne asks, giving me a sly smile.

Calm down, lady. It’s not like I’m drooling. “I simply asked his name. He looks familiar.”

Vienne nods. “He tries to stay out of the spotlight, but his company is constantly featured in the news and major publications. Lochland Enterprises.”

“Lochland…Lochland… Sounds so familiar.” Callen taps his temple with one finger, his eyes rolling up as he searches his brain. “Cyber tech and robotics?”

Vesper nods and chimes in, “Yes. Lochland Enterprises is a multi-billion-dollar venture. Their robotics applications are in almost every industry. Automotive, security, aviation, and I’ve even heard about some ridiculous endeavor into AI restaurants.”

“His name?” I ask again. “Hisfirstname.”

“Gabriel,” Vienne answers, her eyes snapping to mine. “Don’t be fooled, dear. The devil is plotting behind that handsome face.”

“I wasn’t implying…” I trail off, my cheeks flushing. Not because I’m embarrassed, but because Lance gives me a wounded look, like the thought of me finding another man attractive is like a bullet through his heart.

“Why do you want him dead?” Linc cuts in. “Last I checked, we aren’t blind errand boys. If this is a personal grudge, that’s not what PALADIN does. Or did Vesper fail to explain that?”

“That’s exactly why she’s here,” Vesper answers, leaning back in her chair. “I’m actually waiting for an explanation as well. We couldn’t have this conversation anywhere other than headquarters. Vienne is worried the White House is compromised, as well as her security and assistance team. It’s why we had to work so hard to fake her flight out of the country. No one knows she’s here.”

That’s odd. Technically PALADIN was commissioned by the Oval Office a long time ago. Like it or not, we have to answer when they call, unless we want to end up on a target list.

“Excuse me?” Callen asks, his body going rigid and his cheeks growing red. “You mean to tell me I busted my ass all night, pulling impossible strings, to reroute anemptyAir Force One flight?”

“There’s a small, trusted crew on board that is instructed to corroborate my story. But yes, that flight was a decoy.”

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