My heart gives a hard thump as I read the next headline. “Russian Interference in the Election confirmed by Intelligence Agencies.” Vladimir’s confidence that Grand would win the election comes back to me with startling clarity. It’s like I’m back in that room, standing next to the bar, the chilled glass of champagne in my hand.“Things will change,” Vladimir said. “Reginald Grand is a good man. He sees the possibilities that bringing our two nations closer together can provide.”
Is that why Temperance sent me to deal with Vlad?
What was in the pen?
I Google Vlad’s name again but find nothing after his collapse at the consulate event. He can’t be dead then… that would be reported, right? I close my eyes and rub them, hiding in the darkness for a moment. The soft purr of an engine pulls my attention to the drive below. A black town car stops in front of the building. "Come on, Archie," I say, standing with him in one arm. "It's show time."
The driver is uniformed and gives me a professional smile as he opens the door. "Mr. Grand sends his apologies for not being able to meet you himself."
"No worries," I say, happy not to be stuck in the backseat of a car with the man.
The drive to his hotel is quick, the early-morning traffic light for LA. By the time I'm heading home it will be a clogged mess. A twinge of annoyance tightens my grip on my phone.Why do I have to waste my time on this? I could be lying in bed finishing the latest Charlaine Harris book.
I let out a sigh. I should be happy that this is the most annoying thing happening to me today. I could be starving. I could be hunted by freaking Nazis.
Closing my eyes, I practice some gratitude.I'm successful, healthy, have a new amazing man in my life, and a great new role.Temperance's face flashes across my mind's eye.Do I give thanks for him?
Opening my eyes, I decide not to think about it. I can be grateful for so much without even bringing him up-—or the shadowy world he coerced me into joining.
We pull into the hotel drive, and a liveried doorman opens my door. I give him an appreciative nod and see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. I've got on sunglasses, a casual white T-shirt, and a pair of designer jeans that hug every curve. "Lift and separate. That's what jeans should do." Mary's advice echoes in my head as I feel the doorman's eyes on my ass.
Archie peeks his head out of the top of his bag when we enter the lobby. A woman in low heels and a knee-length skirt suit bustles over to me. "Ms. Daniels," she says, her voice all wispy with excitement. Her lipstick is the wrong color for her skin tone and the suit far too conservative and heavy for LA. She must work for Grand. "I'm Tabitha Sanders, Mr. Grand’s advisor.”
I give her a warm smile and slip my sunglasses off to let her see the glint of friendship I'm putting into my gaze.We are both women in this world. You can trust me.“Hi Tabitha." I widen my smile.
"Mr. Grand is very excited to meet you."
I don't respond. Nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all…right?
"Please, follow me. We've arranged a private room at the restaurant."
I follow her across the lobby and up a large staircase to the second floor. The restaurant doesn’t open until seven, but she leads me past the hostess desk, through the dining room, to a private door. She knocks before entering, and we step into a room with a table for twelve but only set for two.
Ah, an intimate gathering. A freaking breakfast date.
“Excuse me,” a man to my left says, startling me.Jeez, was he hiding behind the freaking door?“I need to search you.”
“This is Agent Patrick Maloney. He’s Secret Service,” Tabitha explains, her voice holding reverence.
Agent Maloney is tall and broad, wearing a dark suit. His brown hair is dusted with gray and shorn close to his head. Brown eyes with deep pouches under them assess me.
He motions for me to hand over my bags. Archie yawns as the big man places his bag on an empty seat while putting the purse on the table. “Please stretch out your arms and separate your feet?”
I clear my throat and consider protesting, but there is no glint in his eye, only pure professionalism. He bends down, starting at my ankles and patting his way up, hands skimming the tight jeans.As if I could hide anything in these bad boys.At my waistline, he uses the back of his hands to circle me, bringing them down over my butt cheeks before moving onto my arms.
His hands cup my shoulders and then slide down my sides, across my belly and up, not touching my breasts but also making sure I’m not squirreling anything between them.But with the right bra I could hide something from this search.
Maloney steps back and says something into his sleeve that I can’t quite make out before reaching for my handbag. He searches through it with the air of a man who’s searched a lot of purses and finds each one as boring as the last—it’s not the same dreariness I’m used to from TSA agents, but he’s not on edge, not expecting my lipstick to contain a weapon, even though he opens it to check.
Maloney hands me my purse and then eyes Archie for a moment, who wags his tail and lolls his tongue.Clearly a threat to national security.“Does he bite?” the agent asks.
“No,” I say with a warm smile. “He’s just a puppy.”
“Please remove him from the bag.”
I pull Archie out, his little body curling as I bring him to my chest. The agent opens the bag, looking inside at the gnawed-on bone and flannel blanket before turning his attention back to Archie.Wait, is he going to pat him down?The thought raises a giggle but I suppress it, giving the agent an amused smile which he pretends not to see. The color edging his collar lets me know the man is not totally immune to my charms.
Maloney runs a finger along Archie’s collar, who bends his head and tries to turn it into a petting session. The agent ignores the adorableness, and after confirming that my dog is not a threat to Grand, gives me a sharp nod of approval and dismissal before exiting.