Page 31 of Tate
He’d met Sylvester Roberts, head of Ms. Jackson’s security, in Vegas. The man extended his hand to Tate.
Tate nodded, met his handshake. “Is she here?”
“The Senator?”
“Actually, no, I’d like to see Glo?—”
“Sorry, Tate, no can do.”
“Mr. Roberts?—”
“It’s Sly, now that you’re on my staff, but don’t get cocky.”
Tate frowned.
“You work for me, Tate. You follow my orders. And you work the detail I assign you. Do you think you can manage that?”
Tate drew in a breath.And that means not making trouble for her…
“Yes, sir.”
He pointed to Tate’s rental. “The Senator is unavailable, and you can see Gloria if she decides to summon you. She, however, is not here at the moment. And we’ve been given directives to make sure you follow protocol.”
“Which is?”
“Which means you keep your distance.” He pointed away from the house. “You can park that out back, near the employee housing. We don’t stay in the big house.”
Tate was experiencing some sort of weird throwback to the pre–Civil War era.
“I…okay.” He drew in a breath. “I’m hoping to be on Glo’s detail.”
Sly shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you’re on her detail. The Senator made sure of that. Get parked, and then we’ll give you an orientation and brief you on tomorrow’s event.”
Tomorrow’s event? His face must have betrayed his question because Sly added, “It’s a fundraiser at a nearby estate. Senator Jackson and Gloria will be attending. Mr. Beckett will be joining them, and I believe Gloria has a date.”
Tate just stared at him as Sly turned and walked back to the security building.
And a fine sweat started on the top of his spine and slid down his back.
Surrender is not a Ranger word.
Fine. Let the battle begin.
Scarlett loved her team. Which was the problem.
She could get every one of them killed, with just the wrong word.
Of course, she was safe and sound, usually tucked away in some stuffy office in the FOB, her eyes glued to a drone screen, relaying orders from Commander Hawkins, a short, powerfully built former SEAL who’d gone on to become one of SEAL Team Three’s best leaders.
Calm. Collected.
Not the kind to scream through a headset.
Yeah, that had raised an eyebrow.
But she’d seen, in a horrifying split second, Ford’s death played out right there on the green screen and?—
Well, she’d screamed.
