by Milly Taiden
Josh took a whiff of the air. She waited as he sniffed around the area. He slowed when he came to the large planted fern. If he even began to lift a leg, she’d freaking kill him. She relaxed when he returned to her side.
“Has the president been secured somewhere?” she asked.
“After your call, I sent up extra security to guard the second-floor and all entrances,” he said. She wasn’t happy the president was still in residence. But this was all conjecture on her part. She could be completely wrong. How humiliating. She understood why the colonel had done what he had since they had no solid proof of anything. His phone rang and he answered, quickly hanging up. “The president wants to see us now. He’s out of his shower.”
“Oh, shit,” she said under her breath. The president was a bear of a man. Always serious, never smiling, with permanent lines indented into his forehead. He was a great leader, not much of a partygoer.
They climbed the red-carpeted stairs to the second floor. They passed the guards with concerned looks for the wolf who trotted beside her. Josh raised his nose into the air and stopped.
“What?” she asked. He trotted around the stair landing they just came off. After a moment, he padded after the colonel. Must not have been anything. From what seemed like a mile away, a man came out of a room.
“Mr. President,” the colonel called out.
“Hi, Colonel,” the president said in his characteristic rumbly voice. “Let’s meet in the family room—”
The floor shook just before a wave of drywall slammed into her back, quickly followed by a heat surge followed by an explosion. Next thing she knew, hands were on her upper arms lifting her to her feet from the floor. Josh stood in front of her, his hand on her face, terrified eyes blinking at her. His lips moved, but she didn’t hear anything.
The smell of burning wood and a thick layer of dust floated in the air, making her cough.
“What happened?” she asked. Josh’s voice slowly became a mumble. But she read his lips. Bomb.
She glanced over his arm to see the colonel getting to his knees. Her hand snagged Josh’s and he helped her to the colonel’s side. The man shook his head as if to clear it then pulled his radio from his pocket. They hurried down the hall to meet the president running toward them.
“Mr. President, we need to get to your closet.” Dresden turned the president around and stumbled after him. Candy and Josh caught up within a few steps. At the end of hall, they entered a no-nonsense bedroom, sparse with furniture, but still welcoming.
They navigated turns and doors and found themselves in the president’s wardrobe room. She was amazed by all the cool gadgets and containers and a ton of identical, perfectly-pressed white, long-sleeved shirts. On the section of wall where shoes perched on shelves, Dresden pressed his hands against the wood and the panel slid back and out of the way.
On the other side of the wall, the handrail for a spiral staircase came into view. A red light shined from above. Dresden started down.
“Wait. Stop!” Josh hollered. He elbowed his way to the front. “Let me go first. I know what I’m smelling for.” Dresden leaned back and let Josh pass. The rest trailed behind, Candy as the caboose after the first lady, who had rushed to join them. Several steps down, the group came to a stop. “Candy,” Josh called, “I need you up here.”
She made her way, trying not to slip on the damp metal steps. “What did you find?”
Josh knelt on a tread, leaning over to the next step. “Look here.” He pointed to a thin wire strung across the width of the stair.
“A trip wire?” Candy asked. “Where is it tied in?” They followed the line to the outside wall then underneath the stair they kneeled on. Attached to the bottom side of the stair was a backpack hanging open so they could see inside. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. Both straightened.
“What is it?” Dresden asked.
“Colonel, sir. There is a trip wire here connected to enough C-4 to bring down this side of the building,” she said.
Josh said, “I smelled the taggart chemical, so I knew something was rigged.”
“Should we step over it and continue down?” the colonel asked.
Josh shook his head. “I wouldn’t chance it. There could be more ambushes along the way. The person came from below up to this spot.”
The president’s voice echoed in the narrow area. “How do you know that, son?”
Josh stood, helping her up a step. “From what I can tell, most of the Russians at the NIB had a hint of alcohol to them. Like it was part of their clothes. I smell that here, but not higher up. Where does this go?”
“Everybody back up,” Dresden commanded. “We’ll take another route.” Candy waited for an answer to Josh’s question. But it never came. Guess they didn’t want her or Josh to know.
The group gathered by the bedroom door as Dresden talked on his radio and paced the hallway. Candy noticed the first lady blush after looking her direction. Josh put a hand on her shoulder. The touch was nice. She’d have to get used to touching and being touched. Then she noted Josh was buck-ass naked. That was why the first lady had blushed. Candy stepped in front of her mate.
“Uh, Mr. President, do you have a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants or shorts Director Tumbel can wear? Shifting requires they be undressed.”
The leader’s eyes narrowed on Josh, staring him down. With both hands on her shoulders, he stared right back. After a moment, the president smiled and reached out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Director Tumbel. I’ve heard about the great work your organization does.”
Josh reached around her and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure Candy agrees with you.” Behind her, he bumped against her back. Yeah, yeah. She got the joke—her shutting down the group. Based on paperwork only, anyone would’ve made the same initial decision she did to close them down. Of course, that was all different now.
The president leaned toward his wife and kissed her cheek. “Dear, would you get the director something from my dresser. You know where my clothes are better than I do,” he said softly.
Candy was about to pass out with shock. Her big, growly, bear of a scary man turned into a cub around his wife. Josh leaned down to her ear. “What’s wrong?”
How the hell did Josh know? She’d have to figure out her emotions so she knew them before Josh smelled them. This relationship was getting more complicated with every superhuman trait Josh revealed.
“Is the goddam passage clear or not?” Dresden yelled from the hallway. He was still on his radio.
“Colonel,” Candy said, sliding into the hallway, “anything I can help with?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seems we’re having a hard time contacting our bomb-sniffing dog trainer.”
“He was here earlier, right?” She recalled the president needing to call her back after the dog left. His words were akin to “damn dog sniffing my feet.”
“Yeah, finally,” the colonel said.
“What do you mean?” Candy asked.
“It took him forever to get here,” Dresden ranted. “He knows he’s part of protocol. Dipshit should’ve been in the truck already. By the time he got here, the bug sweeper had already gone through and non-essential rooms were cleared.”
He didn’t do a good job seeing as they’d found two bombs in a matter of minutes. She wondered. “Colonel, is the bomb guy alone when he does his sweep?”
“I have one of my guys help him out. But tonight, he was so damn late that all my men were stationed and I had to pull somebody. The dog got started before my guy got here. I didn’t want to wait any longer,” Dresden said.
His radio came back to life. “Are you sure? The dog’s not here yet.” His hands fisted. “I’ll tell you what, how about I just try it myself. Get me a motherfucking dog!” He stomped down the hall and turned a corner.
Dresse
d in gray sweats and plain T-shirt, Josh came out of the bedroom and stood beside her. “Where’s he going?”
“To the first floor. There’s an elevator and stairs in the cove on that side of the hall,” the president said, his gruffness back.
Josh frowned and stepped forward. “He really should let me go fir—”
Another blast erupted. This one was closer. Much closer.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Candy found herself on the floor again as she had been a few minutes ago, except this time, a heavy body covered hers. She opened her eyes to stare into hazel ones with a gold ring around the brown and green. So much concern filled the look and she knew it was for her. Someone cared if she lived or not.
“You okay?” Josh asked. A surge of emotion roared through her. From the terror of almost dying to the elation of . . . love? There was that damn “L” word again. Creeping up on her. A word she’d never used, and a feeling she’d never had. But that had all changed now, right? She’d had a taste of utmost happiness and it was highly addictive. She wanted more, but didn’t have a clue what to do to get it.
Josh scooted off her and helped her sit up. On the other side of the hall, the president was doing the same with his wife. The first lady leaned her forehead onto her husband’s and put her hand on his cheek.
Taking the cue, she leaned forward, but Josh wasn’t close enough, so she grabbed him around the neck and dragged him toward her. Being a bit anxious and adrenaline-filled, she pulled too hard and his head bonked into hers.
“Sorry—” she said, rubbing over her eye.
“No, my fault,” Josh threw in. “I wasn’t ready.”
She wouldn’t let him take blame for something that was her doing. “No, it was my fault since I tugged on you.”
Josh huffed. “Well, I should’ve been—”
“No, dammit,” she growled. “I—”
The president cleared his throat. “Tell me when you two are done figuring out who’s wrong so we can get the hell out of here.”
“Sorry, Mr. President,” they said in unison.
Everyone got to their feet. Farther down the hallway, a gaping hole extended past walls exposing bedrooms on both sides of the corridor. Through the hole, she saw the pink and white marble floor of the downstairs entrance. Firemen had hoses putting out small flames from the first bomb on the stairs. Shocked faces looked up at them from below the hole.
Candy hurried forward to see what had happened to Dresden. He had been in the middle of the explosion, may have accidentally triggered it. Josh leapt forward and grabbed her arm.
“Whoa, where you going?” Josh said.
She jerked from his hold. “I have to see if Dresden is hurt.”
“Candy,” he whispered. Tears instantly came to her eyes. She understood what he was saying without him voicing the words. Colonel Dresden had been a great friend for a long time. He went to battle for her when other men told her she couldn’t. He always said she could. And she proved him right, time after time. She let Josh pull her back toward the end of the hall.
“Now what?” Josh asked, looking at the group. Candy didn’t know this building like she knew the NIB. That was her building, this wasn’t.
The president frowned. “That bomb took out two escape routes. Besides the closet, there isn’t any other in the area.”
Several feet of flooring around the hole fell, making the gap reach past the doorway to the president’s bedroom. They scrambled back toward the window at the end of the west side hall.
Shit. This was not good. The only other room they could get to looked to be a small kitchen opposite the bedroom. Just inside the door was an elevator.
Behind her, Josh said, “I wouldn’t chance it. Don’t push any of the buttons.” He stepped inside the door and sniffed, walked in farther, nose in the air. “I don’t smell the vodka, so I don’t think anyone has been in here, but they could have planted something below.” He kept sniffing, passing the elevator, stopping at a case of shelves holding countertop appliances and dishes.
“What are you doing?” she asked him. “We need to find a way out of here before the rest of the floor gives way.”
“Just a minute,” he said, “I’m smelling musty air and . . . fresh air?” He got down on his knees and sniffed along the floor. “It’s coming from the floor.” He got to his feet and grabbed dishes off the shelves. “Help me move this bookcase.”
Taking a handful of items, Candy noticed it was a bookshelf, like someone had stuck it there from the library or something. Once the breakables were stacked on another counter, Josh and the president scooted the casing aside. Behind it was a door with a round glass window. Almost like a porthole.
“Everyone get back,” Josh said. “Even though I don’t smell anything, it doesn’t mean it’s safe. I’ll open it.”
Candy grabbed his elbow. “No, what if you get hurt? There’s nowhere to take you for help. I—I don’t . . .” She didn’t want to lose him. She never wanted to lose any of her men and women, but this felt different. This hurt her heart.
Josh leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t worry, babe. I got this.”
“Babe”? He’d called her “babe.” No one ever called her “babe.” She kinda liked it from him. “Fine,” she said. “You get hurt and I’m throwing your furry ass out the window, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, knowing he got his way. He’d better not get used to it. Candy took the president and his wife to the far end of the kitchen by the south-facing window. He put his arm around his wife and pulled her against him, turning his back toward the room. If anything exploded, he would be hit before she was. Candy stepped between him and potential flying debris to prevent that.
Over his shoulder, the president glanced at Candy in her shadow fatigues and all. “Dressed for the occasion, I see.”
She blushed. Having the president’s attention was more than she’d ever asked for. “Yes, sir.”
He continued, “I gather you and the director are in a personal relationship.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We met this morning.”
“This morning?” he repeated.
She glanced at her watch. “Yes, sir. Almost twelve hours on the dot.” She shook her head. “Been a hell of a day.”
After a glance at her, Josh pulled the door open, then sprang toward the hall. All remained quiet. Josh came in and Candy hurried toward him. She pulled a flashlight from her backpack.
“What do you see?” she asked. Before he answered, she saw for herself. About the size of a broom closet, the space contained a spiral set of metal stairs, thick with cobwebs and dust. No one had been on these in a long, long time.
“Of course,” the first lady said. “This is the stairway that connects all the kitchens from the ground floor to the second floor. I remember someone mentioning it. They haven’t used the stairs anymore since the elevator was installed. It’s been here since early 1900s.”
“Well over a hundred years?” Candy blurted. “It can’t be sturdy, can it?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Josh said, taking the first step. A loud creak and pop echoed down the tunnel.
“Wonderful,” Candy huffed. “Lead the way, wolf. I’ll bring up the rear.” She took the second flashlight from her pack and handed it to the first lady since she was second to descend.
Slowly they circled down and down, lower and lower. On the next floor—the first—was an identical door with a round look-through porthole. It was blocked by something too. They continued down.
“Mr. President,” Candy started, “do you have any idea, besides the obvious, why the Steganovich brothers would target you? We know why they chose Director Pommer for his supposed role in their father’s death long ago.”
A deep sigh came from the man in front of her. “I was afraid this would come back and bite my ass—”
&n
bsp; “Dear,” the first lady scolded.
“Sorry, love. Bite my butt,” he continued. He stopped and turned back to Candy. He stood a step below her, yet he met her eyes. “You can never take the schoolteacher out of a woman.” He winked and stepped down.
Candy stood in shock. The president of the United States had winked at her. He was really a nice guy. Who woulda thunk? She was amazed how this man combined immense power and responsibility with being personable. Her one male role model had only shown his ability to bully and hurt.
She hurried down the stairs to catch up. “You were saying, Mr. President, about the brothers.”
“Oh, right. Those boys nearly started World War III.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
With white knuckles, Candy gripped the railing in the small shaft in the kitchens. “World War III, sir?”
“That entire incident was FUBAR from the beginning,” he said. Candy grinned at his use of the military term: “fucked up beyond all recognition.”
The president continued. “Russia was getting ready to arrest their father on charges of espionage, spying for the U.S. I had Pommer immediately pick him up—”
“Wait,” Candy cut in, “you ordered Pommer?”
“Yes, that was my role in the fiasco. I was over Pommer at the time. We needed to get their father back to the U.S. to ensure his safety. Then, of all things, he was killed on the way to the intelligence building here in DC.” The president shook his head. “What a mess.”
“The file said a Russian spy may have been responsible for his death,” Candy said. “Is that true?”
“We believed so since no one else knew what was going on. Of course, we had to cover it up from the media or Russia would’ve started a bunch of shit with NATO and us harboring spies and who knows what else.”