Page 69 of The First Gentleman

“Okay,” says Gagnon. “I won’t if you won’t.” She’s doing her best to keep an open mind. But she can’t help making connections. It’s what she does.

Gagnon rubs her hand across the bagged tennis bracelet. Call it intuition, but she has a strong feeling now about who was wearing it.

I see you, Suzanne. I see you.

CHAPTER

65

Brattleboro, Vermont

In cabin 19 at Montcalm Acres, Garrett is in a great mood. He was able to snag the same unit where he and Brea had their first off-campus date years ago. What better place to tell her the news and reignite their project?

Back then, they had planned to spend a long day exploring local trails, but a late-autumn cloudburst cut their hike short. Not a bad outcome, as it turned out. They’d spent the rest of the day in bed making love while their clothes dried in front of a roaring fire.

That was the day he’d first told Brea that he loved her. Right there, in that saggy, squeaky bed. Garrett can still remember the sound of the rain hammering on the tin roof over their heads. It was perfect.

Tonight, it’s chilly in the cabin. Garrett pulls a wool blanket from a shelf and drapes it around his shoulders for warmth, then puts his laptop on the table near the fireplace. He paid for a load of firewood when he checked in, but it’s not here yet.

Garrett pulls up a stool and opens his laptop to reexamine his notes. He’s thinking that today’s events could make a dramatic prologue: Kidnapped on the open road by the Secret Service. Taken to a small airport for a clandestine interview with the First Gentleman of the United States.

Hell, that’s better than Woodward’s damn parking garage.

Garrett checks his email. The internet service here is iffy. Google takes forever to load.

No reply yet from Ukraine. Not unusual. Daryna works her own hours. And her internet service is spotty too, thanks to Russian missile attacks. It’s not unusual for her to be off the grid for days at a time. She always resurfaces. At least, she always has so far.

Garrett rubs his hands together under the blanket. All they really need is a solid proposal and a few killer chapters to kick off the auction and make the Nottingham people sorry they tore up their contract.

Garrett gets up from the chair, nervous energy flowing through him. He starts pacing. He checks the time on his phone.

Brea should be here any moment.

There’s a knock on the door. A muffled voice. “Mr. Wilson?”

Must be the guy with the firewood. Garrett closes his laptop. “Hold on.”

He walks across the wide-plank floor and pulls the door open.

Two men are standing there. Dark slacks, short black jackets, plain black baseball caps.

First impression: No firewood. One man is in his thirties; the other is a little younger. The men push into the room.

“Hey!” says Garrett. His mouth suddenly goes dry.

The younger man shoves him in the chest, forcing him back. The older one says, “Now.”

The metal end of the silencer is cold on Garrett’s forehead.

Brea!His last thought.

CHAPTER

66

Imake it to Brattleboro in record time. My last text from Garrett said that he’d booked cabin 19, our place. After all, that’s where he first told me that he loved me. As if I hadn’t known it already. I told him I loved him too.

I round the last curve through the pine trees.

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