Page 78 of Tattletale

The First Lady scoffs. “You have no idea how charming he really is. I’d bet my last dollar Cricket is already in love with him…meaning, she’s useless. When the time comes, I need you to pull the trigger. At least with Gabriel dead, the bomb stays hidden, never to be deployed.”

At that moment, it becomes crystal clear what this mission really is. Saving humanity is secondary. Vienne is desperate to cover up their mistakes. This is about protecting a legacy. She doesn’t want her husband to go down in history as the president who ended the world as we know it.

There’s a firm knock on Vienne’s side of the car. Assuming my role as bodyguard, I reach for my handle and climb out the door with two hands in the air. A cluster of agents, dressed in neat suits, glance skeptically in my direction.

“He’s clear,” the tall one says. “Vienne’s personal security.”

I nod at him as he steps aside so I can get to Vienne’s door.

“I’ve got it, son,” a firm but friendly voice says from behind me. A large hand clasps my shoulder, and I spin around.

“Mr. President,” I say. “Nice to meet you. I’m your wife’s security detail this evening.”

“Thank you,” President Baker says, a warm smile spreading ear to ear. His salt-and-pepper brows lift as he points to the door handle. “Do you mind? This is my job.”

“Your job?” I ask.

He laughs. “Would you like to know the secret to a happy marriage?”

“Sure.”

“Even eighteen years later, don’t stop opening doors for your lady.” President Baker winks at me and opens the car door. He clutches his chest like he might have a heart attack. “My goodness, woman. That dress. You look radiant.”

Vienne smiles. Her eyes brighten, and she flushes. “Oh, Sal. This ol’ thing? You’ve seen it before.”

“Not like this,” he says, holding his hand out to her. President Baker guides her out of the vehicle, ensuring she doesn’t slip on the short train of her sparkling red dress. I take a small step back to give the couple more space when Vienne kisses Sal’s cheek.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Vienne says.

President Baker beams at her. “Thank you, sugar.”

I trail behind the President and the First Lady with the back end of their security team as we head toward the restaurant entrance. “Sugar?” I ask in a whisper to the Secret Service member who vouched for me before. That’s a little cringeworthy.

“Always. His favorite nickname for her,” he mumbles back.

TWENTY-TWO

CRICKET

Gabriel looks oddly nervous.In the three weeks I’ve known him, he’s always so smooth, composed, and overall, in control. But right now, standing next to me in his pristine designer tuxedo, I see the drink in his hand, shaking.

“Thank you for inviting me tonight,” I say softly.

My words seem to remind him I’m standing right next to him. Pulling his gaze away from the front entrance of the restaurant, he makes eye contact. “Thank you for coming. I realize this is a little fast to meet my friends. I’m sorry if I put you on the spot.”

I smile as I sip my martini. “It’s not every day I have the opportunity to meet the President of the United States. Any other very important and powerful friends you haven’t mentioned?”

Gabriel smiles. He sets his drink down and flexes his hand. “He wasn’t always the President, Fiona. Once upon a time, he was just Uncle Sal. He invested in my first serious invention—or, more accurately, his wife did. Vienne came from money, and a lot of it.” He makes a disgusted face.

“You think he married her for money?” I force myself to press for more information. I’ve spent at least ten dates with Gabriel, three of which were romantic weekends at the bed-and-breakfast. I’m fabricating a connection, but it doesn’t feel so fake. Do I want to get in his pants? Not particularly. But do I want to know why his smile is so painted on…like he spends his days crying when no one is around? Yes. In fact, I need to know. Because I just don’t see the monster Vienne is talking about. In fact, her vendetta is starting to seem ridiculous.

“No.” Gabriel picks his drink up from the standing table and slams it back in one gulp. “I think they married for love. Anyway,” he says, showing me a sweet, genuine smile. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”

I hold up two fingers. “Twice already.”

“Well, you do. Actually, funny thing… I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘bewitching’ in a conversation before.”

I take another small sip of my drink. “Well, Mr. Lochland, no time like the present.”

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