Tessa’s eyes fluttered open and Grayson scanned the parking lot behind them for any additional threats while simultaneously placing his fingers on Tessa King’s neck to check her pulse. The skin at the base of her collarbone was warm and softer than anything he’d touched in quite a long time.
“What happened?” she asked. Her full pink lips were slightly parted, bringing his attention back to her face—a heart-shaped face with high, rounded cheekbones that framed a perfectly straight nose. He shouldn’t notice how attractive she was, but being observant was part of his job.
The other—and more important—part of his job was to ensure the safety of the First and Second families, as well as the thousands of people gathered both inside and outside of Vice President King’s funeral. Keeping the scene from turning into a full-fledged spectacle made his job, as well as the jobs of all the other assets on the multiagency teams, much easier.
Tessa’s breathing normalized once she’d gone unconscious, but now it threatened to resume its faster pace. She tried to lift her shoulders, but the vehicle swerved again and her elbows lost their traction.
“I asked what happened.” This time her words were more of a command than a question. And in Grayson’s experience, rich and powerful people like Tessa King were accustomed to having their orders followed.
Grayson couldn’t afford to go into some long-winded explanation and risk losing focus of the paparazzi jockeying for position along the sidewalk. “You fainted outside the church.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she replied, her quick breaths making her nose give a little snort.
Tessa tried to sit up again, but Grayson put a hand on her shoulder. “You better stay low until we get to the MultiAgency Command Center.”
“Where?” Creases formed between her brows as she gingerly lowered her head.
He exhaled, still concerned about a possible head injury but relieved she wasn’t putting up any resistance to his keeping her out of harm’s way. “The place where all the federal and local agencies, like the sheriff and fire departments, come together—”
“I know what a MACC is,” she interrupted, her eyes likely rolling upward in annoyance behind her closed lids. Of course Roper King’s daughter would be well-versed on all the government acronyms. Perhaps this wasn’t even the first time something like this had happened to her. “I’m asking where it is. As in how much longer do I need to lie here like some sort of hapless victim.”
“It’s in the big white staging tent set up behind the church. We’ll be pulling up to it in about forty-five seconds as long as none of these dumbass reporters get in our way.”
“There’s already a ton of them coming up behind us,” the driver said, using the rearview mirror to give Grayson a pointed look. “This thing ain’t exactly built for speed, you know.”
“Just keep driving,” he told the older gentleman in the front seat. “If anyone gets in our way, run them over.”
“Run them over?” Tessa lifted one brow. “I assume you mean the dumbass reporters?”
Damn. Grayson had forgotten that she was one of them.
He sighed. “Fine, don’t run them over. Let them get close enough to the windows so that they can get a good shot of the former vice president’s daughter right after she tossed her cookies all over the front steps at her daddy’s funeral.”
Tessa squeezed her eyes shut again and Grayson inwardly cringed. Not because of the harshness of his words, but at the unfortunate reminder of the reason they were all there.
Roper King had been a good person and an easy assignment—up until this point. The man had been an admired patriot and deserved to be laid to rest with honor. While the jury was still out on the rest of the King family, Grayson owed it to the heavily decorated military commander, former Wyoming governor and United States vice president to prevent the memorial service from turning into a full-fledged circus.
Tessa squinted one eye open. “I thought you said I fainted?”
“You did. Right after you puked your guts out.” Okay, so maybe that sounded a little worse than it was. But he needed to convey the seriousness of the situation to her.
She rolled her head to the side to get a better look at him. “Do they throw in the black sunglasses for free when you buy your footwear at Agents ’R’ Us?”
“No.” He allowed his eyes to lazily travel down her bare, toned legs until they came to her black suede heels. “Don’t they sell functional winter shoes at Divas ’R’ Us?”
A small huff escaped her lips before she gave him a dismissive glance and turned her head away, effectively reminding Grayson that he wasn’t there to trade insults with Roper King’s grieving daughter. Even though she’d started it.
He cleared his throat and directed his attention back to their driver. “See the barricade next to the tent? Pull straight in there. Don’t worry, they’ll move the barricade for you.”
As soon as the vehicle entered the covered confines of the immense outdoor tent, Grayson reached for some sort of door handle, but only came up with a smooth, leather-covered panel.
“My passengers usually don’t let themselves out.” The driver chuckled as he shifted into Park then added, “They also don’t usually do so much talking back there.”
“Back where?” Tessa blinked several times before her eyes focused on the long, narrow, curtained windows framing the waiting emergency personnel outside. Grayson kept silent, hoping she’d think they were simply in the backseat of one of the fleet of armored presidential limos.
Apparently, he’d been correct in his earlier assumption. King’s daughter didn’t appreciate being ignored. This time, though, when she shot up to a sitting position, he didn’t stop her because they were finally out of view of the news cameras.
The rear hatch opened and Grayson had never been so relieved to jump out of a car or away from a high-maintenance protective detail. He stood to the side as two medics loaded Tessa onto a gurney.
“Is all of this really necessary?” he heard her ask as he tried to concentrate on the operational radio chatter in his ear. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
One of the paramedics strapped a blood pressure cuff on her arm as the other bobbed and weaved, using the calculated positioning of his body to politely prevent the reluctant patient from climbing off the gurney. Thank God she was their problem now.
“They need you back in front of the church,” Grayson told the driver as he slammed the door closed. “Thanks for the lift.”
As the black Cadillac pulled forward, Tessa’s head whipped around and her sexy pink lips formed a little O as she gasped. When she turned to face him, her angry glare made him take another step back.
“You put me in the back of a damn hearse! What in the hell kind of special agent would put someone in the back of their own father’s hearse?”
The swear words that peppered her tirade would have been bleeped out if she’d been on live television, and Grayson knew without a shadow of a doubt that his supervisor and his teammates were going to have a field day with this.
Right before he got demoted to a desk job.
Copyright © 2020 by Christy Jeffries
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ISBN-13: 978148
8075216
Her Texas New Year’s Wish
Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Michelle Major for her contribution to the The Fortunes of Texas: The Hotel Fortune miniseries.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Her Texas New Year's Wish Page 21