by Radclyffe
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RADCLY fFE
Wes closed the FAT kit. “All set.” She hefted it, winced, and
shifted it to her other hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Jammed my shoulder a bit. It’s noth—”
Evyn climbed into the rig and pointed to the narrow stretcher
against the wall. “Sit.”
“I’m fine.” Wes laughed. “I’m the doctor, remem—”
“And I’m team leader. Sit.”
Wes shut it and sat. No point getting into a pissing contest over
who was in charge just yet. She kept quiet as Evyn helped her ease her
jacket off and unclipped her radio.
“Can you unbutton your shirt?” Evyn asked, her gaze fixed
somewhere past Wes’s left shoulder.
“Sure.” Wes loosened the top half of her shirt one-handed and
tugged it free from her pants. She wore a tight silk tank beneath it and
was suddenly aware of her nipples tightening. Great. “It’s a bit cold in
here—can we do this fast?”
“Where does it hurt?” Evyn ordered herself not to look down. The
aisle was narrow, and she was practically kneeling between Wes’s legs.
If she leaned forward another inch their breasts would touch.
“Left shoulder joint. It’s just stiff—nothing—”
“We’re going to do this, so you can just suck it up,” Evyn said.
“Fine.”
Ever so carefully, Evyn drew the collar of Wes’s shirt aside with
two fingers, careful not to touch skin, until she could see her shoulder.
“Big bruise.”
“Feels like it.”
Evyn rocked back on her heels as far as space would allow. “I’m
going to range it. Tell me if it hurts.”
“Go ahead.” Wes watched Evyn’s face while Evyn gently cupped
her elbow and manipulated her shoulder. Evyn’s eyes were storm-cloud
blue, but her touch was sure and steady. A streak of dirt over her cheek
made her look unexpectedly vulnerable, and Wes brushed it away
before she had time to stop herself. Evyn flinched and Wes dropped her
hand. “Shoulder’s okay. Sore, but no worse than at rest.”
“You’ll need to ice it,” Evyn said.
“I will. Thanks.”
Evyn looked away. “You’re welcome.”
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“That was a pretty impressive sim.”
“You didn’t seem too bothered by it.” Evyn pushed to her feet and
moved back to give Wes room to dress. She resisted the urge to ask her
if she needed help. She didn’t want to touch her again. Not at all.
Wes looked up at her. “Did you expect me to be?”
“Well, seeing as how you’re a paper pusher and all.” Evyn grinned,
realized she was falling into the habit of bantering with Wes, and skidded
away from the friendly exchange. Relaxing her guard around Wes was
just too easy, and she couldn’t afford to get familiar with her. Even if
she wasn’t supposed to be training her, there was the little matter of
Wes probably being on Lucinda Washburn’s private security payroll
just now. Hell, for all she knew, Wes was evaluating her. And didn’t
that just throw cold water on her libido. “I’ll meet you at the cars. We’re
done for today.”
v
They didn’t speak on the trip back to the House, and Evyn
disappeared as soon as they disembarked. Wes couldn’t figure out what
had put that cold distance in Evyn’s eyes after the warmth that had been
there just minutes before, and the more she thought about it, the more
frustrated she became. She shouldn’t care—didn’t want to care. Since
the idea of sitting around her hotel room until the next day waiting for
her next exercise held no appeal, she went back to her office and spent
the rest of the afternoon setting up a schedule to review various protocols
with the team members. When she’d gotten everything organized to her
satisfaction, she turned to the last detail on her list and made a call.
“This is Captain Masters,” she said when a young man answered.
“Is Ms. Washburn available?”
“One moment, Captain,” he said pleasantly and put her on hold.
Lucinda answered. “What can I do for you, Captain?”
“I wanted to follow up on my request to schedule the president for
a baseline physical examination.”
“Yes, I have that on my list. Can you hold for a moment?”
“Of course.”
A minute passed, and Lucinda returned. “Are you free right
now?”“Certainly.”
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“Five minutes in the clinic?” Lucinda said.
“I’ll be waiting.” Wes hurried to the clinic and commandeered
the PA, a man she knew by name but hadn’t formally met yet, to assist.
“Hernandez, you’ve got the duty. Set up a room for a complete physical,
will you? The president is on his way.”
Hernandez, a navy corpsman, snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am.
And welcome aboard, ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
Three minutes later, the president arrived, followed by a military
aide carrying nuclear codes in a secure briefcase. Wes saluted.
“Thank you for interrupting your schedule, sir.”
The president returned her salute and extended his hand. “Good to
meet you, Doctor.”
She indicated an exam room. “Right in here, sir. This shouldn’t
take very long.”
The military aide took a post just outside the door, his expression
neutral. Hernandez had laid out equipment on the counter next to the
exam table and had draped an ironed white gown on the end of the
chair. He stood at attention to the left of the door.
“I’ll leave you to change,” Wes said and stepped out to wait until
Hernandez signaled the president was ready. Two minutes later he called
her in, and she quickly worked her way through the exam, checking
vital signs, listening to heart and lungs, testing reflexes. Everything was
fine, which she had anticipated.
“All set, sir,” she said when she’d finished. She stepped out while
Hernandez assisted the president, and returned when Hernandez called
her. “What’s your verdict, Doctor?” the president asked as he knotted
his tie.“We’ll want routine bloods again in four months and an EKG in
six. But you’re cleared for duty.”
Andrew Powell smiled. “Glad to hear it. How are you finding the
post so far?”
“I’m honored, sir.”
“I promise it’s not always this quiet.”
She laughed. “In medicine, sir, quiet is not bad.”
“True about my job too. What are you doing for the holidays?”
“I have the duty, sir.”
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The president opened the exam-room door and paused. “Well, be
sure and make the staff Christmas party.”
“I will. Thank you, sir.”
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Happy holidays, sir.”
“Happy holidays, Captain Masters.”
Wes stayed in the hall until he disappeared. Today she’d been part
of a simulated rocket attack
aimed at destroying this man and what he
symbolized to the nation and the world. The idea that someone close
to him might be a traitor made the urgency of her job even more acute.
She understood—at least rationally—a little bit better why Evyn didn’t
yet trust her, and as much as she resisted the idea, she couldn’t totally
trust Evyn either.
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chapter fOurteen
Evyn woke with Ricochet draped on her left ear. “Get off.”
Ricochet stretched, shifted, and settled around her forehead
like a fur hat. His belly reminded her of feathers dancing on her skin.
Feathers. Fingertips. Wes’s thumb tracing over her cheek. A shot of
adrenaline spiking her pulse, her clit instantly hard. Her eyes jolted
open. “Hell.”
She stared at the ceiling. Flat gray light. The weatherman had said
more snow was coming. More freezing cold. She wasn’t cold now. She
kicked the covers off. Ricochet complained and stalked haughtily to
the bottom of the bed. Evyn touched her cheek and her clit did that
twitching thing it had done yesterday when Wes had touched her. Wes
made her so freaking hot—didn’t mean a thing, though. Just good old
reflexes. Never mind the way Wes had looked at her when she’d been
moving her shoulder around—so serious, so right there. Wes looked at
her—looked into her, and okay, that freaked her out too. She’d grown
up in a houseful of men she wanted to be just like—tough, competitive
men who taught her to win. And any fear or uncertainty—and, God
forbid, tears—that cropped up along the way, she hid. And eventually
she didn’t need to hide those things because she didn’t feel them any
longer.
Except when Wes touched her, she felt the doors opening and light
leaking into the closed rooms where she kept her secrets. Not good.
Didn’t matter, though. She had a handle on it. She slid her hand down
her belly. Had a hand on it too. She was hard all right, and wet, and
damn if she couldn’t get Wes’s scent out of her head. So she closed
her eyes and let the green of Wes’s gaze and the piercing winter-bright
scent of her fill her mind as she came.
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v
“Morning,” Wes said when she found Evyn in the ready room at
0730. A box, empty save for a lone white powdered doughnut, sat in
the middle of the round table. Evyn was dressed for fieldwork again—
khakis and a blue polo shirt with the USSS logo on the chest.
“Hi,” Evyn said, rising abruptly and dumping the remains of her
coffee in the sink. “Ready?”
“Another sim? Sure.”
“Nope. Today we go live.” Evyn raised her left wrist and said,
“Team One, ready to move out.”
Wes followed her out into the hall, waiting for Evyn to fill her
in on what was happening. They’d reached the south exit before she
finally asked, “Isn’t it customary to brief me?”
“There is no customary.” Evyn reached the door first and held
it open. “The only thing you can count on in this detail is that plans
always change. Today’s already have.”
“Am I the only medic?”
“You’ll have the usual backup in the follow car.”
Wes caught the door and followed Evyn outside. A limo idled with
the three black SUVs on the circular drive. Gary waited by the open
rear door of the first vehicle, sunglasses on, earbud just visible behind
his left ear. He nodded briefly to Evyn, and Wes thought she saw his
eyebrow quirk before his stony expression returned. Several other men
and a woman stood waiting by the other vehicles, and the profiles of
additional agents were visible inside each one. She hadn’t expected
so many people to be involved in a training scenario but said nothing.
Evyn obviously wasn’t planning to answer any of her questions.
“We’ll be in the first follow car,” Evyn said. “Eagle is on his
way.”Wes hesitated. “I thought this was a training scenario.”
Evyn met her gaze, no trace of humor in her eyes. “Did I give you
that impression? This is as real as it gets.”
Wes adjusted her expectations and reassessed the situation. “Then
shouldn’t I ride with the president?”
Evyn opened the rear door of the SUV directly behind the limo and
gestured for Wes to climb in. “Under most circumstances, no. You’re
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part of the secure package now—we need you out of the kill zone. You
can’t treat Eagle if you’re dead.”
“Makes sense,” Wes muttered. She accepted the reasoning behind
safeguarding the first responder, but in light of the sim the day before,
she didn’t like it. If the vehicles were separated or the president’s
vehicle took a direct hit, she wanted to be closer than she would be in
a follow car.
Evyn must have read her displeasure, because she said, “If a threat
arises, we’ll do our jobs and you’ll stay out of the way until needed.”
“I know the protocol, Agent Daniels.”
“Then we’re all happy.” Evyn pulled out her handheld and started
flicking through screens. Conversation over.
Wes settled onto the black leather bench seat and watched out
the window as a group emerged from the White House. She caught a
fleeting glimpse of President Powell, flanked by four agents, striding
briskly toward the limo. Seconds later, they pulled away and exited
the South Grounds onto E Street. The streets had been plowed and
snowbanks lined the curbs. Somewhere in front of them, motorcycle
engines rumbled, probably a police escort clearing the way. Across
from her, Evyn texted.
Wes wondered what would happen next, and when. The thrum of
anxiety in her belly was probably something she was going to live with
indefinitely. Every trip the president took outside the White House was
akin to a military engagement. Danger was always imminent. Stress
and uncertainty didn’t bother her, as long as she knew she was prepared.
And she planned to be.
Forty minutes later, the motorcade pulled off the highway onto
a wide drive and stopped in front of a row of large stone buildings.
Car doors slammed, and Wes saw the group from the first car moving
inside. Evyn opened the door and said, “You’ll stay here with one of the
military aides. If you’re needed, he’ll inform you. I hope you brought
something to read.”
“It never occurred to me I’d need it.”
Evyn laughed. “Oh, you’ll have plenty of time to kill on this
assignment. I recommend an e-reader. Travels easily and holds up
well.”“I’ll make a note of that.”
Evyn closed the door and disappeared inside along with several
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Oath Of hOnOr
other agents. Wes settled back to wait, watching out the window. No foot
traffic. An occasional car passed along the drive. She wasn’t sure where
they were. The uncertainty heightened all her senses. Her pulse was a
little faster than usual, and tension in the back of her
neck indicated her
blood pressure was probably slightly higher than normal too—nothing
to worry about as long as the tension didn’t escalate into anxiety, which
blunted response time. A certain degree of stress augmented essential
reflexes. She felt on edge but sharp. The way she needed to be.
An hour passed before the main doors of the building opened and
Evyn walked out, followed by the president and a phalanx of agents.
A blur of motion cut across Wes’s field of vision, shouts erupted, the
loud crack of gunfire shattered the quiet. Evyn crumpled, the president
staggered, and Wes grabbed her FAT kit and bolted from the SUV
along with a sea of agents from the other cars. Agents converged on the
president, others swarmed a young man holding a pistol and dragged
him to the ground. Wes raced up the sidewalk, scanning the injured,
automatically triaging. Only those who would die without immediate
attention could be treated. Those who would die despite emergency
care and those who would survive without it were passed over.
Evyn lay on her back, eyes closed, the collar of her shirt soaked
in blood. Neck or chest wound—likely fatal without urgent treatment.
Another agent, a man she didn’t recognize, curled on his side, clutching
his abdomen. A second potential fatality. The agents with the president
pushed past her toward the vehicle she’d just vacated. The president
seemed to be moving under his own power—injury status unknown.
Without medical treatment, Evyn and the other agent would likely die.
Wes stared at Evyn—she was still breathing, but for how long?
Ignoring her instincts, ignoring all her training, she ran for the SUV
with the president inside and jumped into the back. The doors slammed
shut, tires screeched, and they jolted forward. The president was supine
on the rear seat, and the duty nurse already had an oxygen mask on his
face. Bracing one arm against the side of the speeding vehicle, Wes
dragged the FAT kit closer. “Status?”
“GSW to the leg,” Thompson, the nurse, replied.
“You,” Wes said to the closest agent, pulling gauze from the field
trauma kit, “hold this over the wound, press hard.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
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“Get us to the nearest trauma center.” She didn’t wait for an
answer. After grabbing a stethoscope, she pushed closer and slid a hand