Playing For Keeps (Montana Men)

by Jaydyn Chelcee

  “The diplomat from Spain is in Washington,” Travis said quietly as the doors of the elevator swished open. They stepped into the underground park and turned right. Cold air, sharp as a knife and mixed with the strong smell of motor oil and gasoline slapped them in the face.

  “Security’s being beefed,” Travis added. “And you know Sam, like Molly, she wants only the best on duty.”

  “Always.” Duel dug his keys out of his jeans pocket. “There have been foreign diplomats at the White House before. What makes this one so special?”

  Travis merely lifted a brow.

  Duel widened his eyes. “What? Shit. We’re guarding his ass because the first lady has a thing for the Spaniard?”

  “Not a thing, Duel. The affair is hot and heavy, to the point divorce is in the foreseeable future, at least to the first lady’s way of thinking. Although no one wants to see harm befall the Spaniard, our concern is Molly’s safety. There have been threats.”

  “From the president?”

  “I don’t know. The notes are untraceable. The script is hen’s scrawling, sometimes difficult to read, but definitely a threat against her life.”

  “How long has the affair been going on?”

  “Almost a year. You haven’t been here to know what’s been happening.”

  “Yeah, well I’m catching up fast. Mac—”

  “Ah, you heard about his unsavory affair already?”

  “Is it true?”

  “At a guess, yes, I’d say Mac has had his dick where it doesn’t belong, but right now it’s in a wringer. Can’t say I blame him for nailing her, though. Hell, she’s beautiful. Sexy. I heard Neil Turner walked in on them in a compromising clutch.”

  Duel snorted. “I think good ol’ Neil would like his dick stuck where it don’t belong.”

  Travis shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what he saw, but he said he heard her telling Mac she didn’t want to see him anymore and Mac refused to break off the affair. Damn, Duel, I know you like the man, but he had to know a tawdry office affair would cost him his job. He must be balls deep in love with her to risk everything, risk losing Marie.”

  “Yeah.” Duel shook his head. “It just doesn’t sound like the Mac I know.”

  “I was away on assignment when it started, but the rumors,” Travis shrugged, “bad.”

  “I heard plenty today, but you can’t always believe idle speculation or even what you see.”

  Travis eyed him a moment. “You usually don’t listen to the office grist mill.”

  Duel grinned. “Angie caught me at a weak moment.” His grin faded and he rubbed the dull ache between his eyes. “I don’t like for someone to be crucified when there isn’t anyone here who’s snow white.”

  Travis looked at him grimly. “I know Mac was your best friend and partner long before I came along, but—”

  “I wasn’t referring to Mac.”

  “Huh.” Travis arched both brows. “I guess only you know the meaning behind that statement, and I won’t push, so, back to business.”

  “Okay. What’s the story with Molly?” Duel asked.

  “Our beloved first lady caught the president in bed with not one, but two movie starlets I’ll leave unnamed. This is a case of what’s sauce for the gander…”

  “So what are we supposed to do tonight, besides the obvious?”

  “Make certain when the first lady excuses herself from the dinner party with a sudden terrible migraine, she’s escorted to her private quarters by us and not the Secret Service. She’ll meet Delacourt shortly after.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. The CIA sanctions this affair?”

  Travis gave a curt nod. “For the time being, there’s no choice. We’ve also set up a hotel room where they can meet undisturbed.”

  “For God’s sake, why? And why do we have to be the ones who escort her to her quarters?”

  “Witnesses. She wants everyone to note her going to her room. Our escorting her will certainly draw attention, much more so than if the Secret Service does it. That’s so routine no one pays attention.”

  “Is this our tax dollars at work?”

  “Yes. And the reasons are quite simple. There are three reasons, actually.”

  “Three?”

  “One…Molly threatened to expose the president’s affairs if we don’t. She’s serious, too, and right now, this country doesn’t need another president caught with his pants down.”

  “It’s her word against John’s,” Duel pointed out.

  “She has pictures, and so far, we haven’t found the originals.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yep, that’s what he’s doing in them, and not to Molly.” Travis scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “It’s a mess.”

  “The second reason?” Duel inquired.

  “Delacourt’s wife accompanied him to the U.S.”

  “And?” Duel raised his voice in question.

  “She’s eight months pregnant with their seventh child. No one wants to risk upsetting her.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “There’s no religion involved in this disaster,” Travis said stone-faced.

  Duel choked. “You are so not funny.”

  “I’m crushed.” Travis pressed a hand over his heart.

  Duel snorted again. “Go on.”

  “Delacourt has made it plain he wants a divorce from Inez. She knows her husband is sleeping with Molly, but she refuses to sign the papers. As long as the affair doesn’t go public, she’s willing to keep mum.”

  “Dear God.”

  “I know,” Travis said. “It gives one goose-bumps, does it not? We’re sitting on top of a bomb that’s liable to go off any minute. However, Inez has always turned a blind eye to her husband’s affairs. You notice I use the plural? This time, it appears he’s serious about the woman he’s involved with. However, Inez doesn’t intend to lose a dime of his money to Molly, even though he’s worth billions.”

  “Number three?” Duel asked.

  “If we hadn’t provided a hotel room for Molly and Delacourt, Molly threatened to take the Spaniard to her bed in the room she shared with John at the White House. A bed John still uses and is very likely to walk in and catch the two of them boffing each other.”

  “I take it John doesn’t know Molly is—”

  “No,” Travis interrupted. “We intend to keep it that way. Molly is pissed. A woman scorned is a dangerous woman. She’s reckless. Swear to God, she’s drowning herself in champagne and sex.”

  Duel chewed on his lower lip. “Can it get any worse?”

  Again, Travis lifted a brow.

  “Damn it, Trav, you’re sucking this for all it’s worth.”

  For the first time, Travis snickered. “I sure am, old buddy, cause I tell you, we haven’t had a fubar like this since Marilyn sang, Happy Birthday to JFK in that glittering, gold, sewn-onto-her-body, tight-ass gown.”

  “Big fubar?”

  Travis nodded.

  “Aw, shit. What else?”

  “What else?” Travis’s lips flattened. “Oh, you’re a glutton for punishment.” He sighed. “Just to make things interesting and make sure we’re on our toes, Molly’s also demanded a divorce. She’s quite anxious to obtain her freedom. She and Delacourt are already making wedding plans. Of course, John doesn’t want the scandal of a divorce with election year coming up in a few months, but he knows he’s guilty as hell and has caused Molly’s ire. He’s trying to get her to forgive his infidelities. Like Inez, he won’t agree to sign anything. Molly wants this divorce badly enough, she doesn’t care if John discovers her sleeping with Delacourt.” Travis’ brows beetled in a deep frown. “I hope my wife never hates me that much.”

  “You don’t have a wife.”

  “I might…one day. Anyway, when Delacourt leaves the dinner party thirty minutes after Molly departs, Inez will excuse herself, return to her hotel room and go to bed. She won’t ask questions. She won’t say a word. She’ll smile and pretend everything’s
perfect. The humiliation, you know?”

  “Yeah. Which hotel?”

  “For Inez, or Delacourt and Molly?” Travis grinned.

  “All of them,” Duel replied, his temper on edge. These days, it seemed his temper was always on edge. He felt like punching something. He eyed Travis. Damn, the agent would punch back, and Duel knew for a fact that Travis packed a mean wallop. He sure as hell didn’t feel like nursing a bruised or broken jaw. “Christ, I can’t believe I’ve been called in for such an assignment. I don’t like playing guard dog for illicit affairs. I don’t care if it is the first lady. Sam should know better than to involve us in this mess. If anything and I mean anything goes down, you know who’s going to catch the fallout?”

  “Ambassador Hotel.”

  “What?” Duel frowned.

  “They’re staying at the Ambassador, and yes, I know who’ll catch the fallout,” Travis told him.

  “Who’s staying at the Ambassador?”

  “All three of them.” Travis jammed his hands in the front of his pants pockets. “And don’t punch me. I see that look in your eyes. I told you it’s a fubar. Inez is on the eighth floor. Molly and Delacourt are on the fourteenth. Cozy, huh?”

  Duel grunted. “As a hotdog and a bun. Fuck. We need hazard pay. You know this is going to explode in our faces. One wiretap, one snoopy reporter, one hidden camera, and it’s all out there, just like Watergate and the Washington Post.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Four? Is there a four? Of course there’s a four.” Duel blew through his teeth and did his best to rein in his temper. “Hell. Right? Four?”

  Travis grinned. “Don’t you just know it? And it’s a whopper.”

  Duel groaned, and rubbed the ache between his eyes. “Go ahead, hit me. I know you’ve saved the best for last. You love this. I know you do.”

  “I’m not the enemy here,” Travis said, amusement crinkling his eyes, “but―”

  Snarling, Duel shook his head. “There’s always a but.”

  “Yeah. Molly Westcott, our beautiful first lady, is three months pregnant…and she hasn’t slept with the president of this great nation for at least eight months.”

  “Jesus, doesn’t Delacourt believe in backing up to dump his load?”

  “Are you kidding? He convinced Molly to toss her birth control pills. He told her the real proof of their love was the child she would conceive with him.”

  “Good grief, they planned the baby?”

  “Oh, yeah. I can’t tell you how many trips Molly made to Spain just so they could get together at the right time of the month…but it was frequent.”

  “And John never caught on?”

  “You’re joking? He was damn glad to get her out of his hair. Interns, you know? They’re so green and dewy-eyed, every one of them willing to get on their knees for the prez. He’s helped a few of them into the right position, if you get my meaning.”

  “Let’s get outta here.” Duel said shaking his head, “before I throw up. Or hell, who knows, we get snowed in, and have to sleep in our offices.”

  Travis nodded. “We should be so lucky…

  * * * *

  Five hours and twenty minutes before the assassination…

  “Are you certain you don’t mind working late?” Samantha Rivers, Chief of Staff at her particular branch of the CIA slid her black leather purse strap over her shoulder and turned to eye her secretary, Flayme Jansen.

  “I’m positive. I don’t have any plans. It’s not like I’ve been invited to the first lady’s big do.”

  Samantha groaned. “Be glad. Two of my agents are attending. They probably aren’t very happy about it.”

  “Travis?”

  “Mmm, yes, Travis. And Duel.” Samantha busied herself fastening the big round buttons on her navy blue wool coat. “I hate winter. I hate snow.”

  Flayme grinned. “Then move to Florida.”

  “And give up all this intrigue and excitement?”

  “Who’s Duel? I don’t remember meeting him.”

  Samantha frowned. “Duel Remington. I don’t think he’s been in his office since you were hired on.”

  “Ah, yes, the mystifying locked office with the big stack of mail piled on the floor, and minus the agent?”

  “That’s the one. Trust me, once you meet him, you’ll never forget him.” She shook her fingers as if they burned. “Hot. And hung.”

  Flayme lifted a brow. “Do tell. Sounds intriguing. Do I hear the rattle of bed springs?”

  Samantha giggled. “No, I haven’t slept with him. We worked together in the field a couple of times. One time we were deep undercover in Iraq before 9/11. Duel took a bullet high in the upper leg, missed his manly jewels by a scant quarter inch.” She shook her head, respect and awe in her voice. “He walked on that damn leg for two days before his pride finally caved and he agreed to let me take a look. I had to dig the bullet out right there in the middle of the flaming desert with Iraqi soldiers crawling up our asses.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Yeah. It was bad. Heat. Sand. Scorpions.” Samantha paused, a distant look in her dark eyes. “Believe me, you’ve never seen or heard anything creepier until you see and hear one of those big-ass camel spiders wheel across the sand screaming. And Duel out of his head with fever. I kept pressing my hand across his mouth to keep him from giving away our hiding place. I finally found an abandoned hut to take cover in. By the time I got his boots and fatigues off, he was shaking so badly, I thought he’d die. Let me tell you, girl, I got an eyeful.”

  Flayme grinned and shook her head. “Of course you had no choice but to look.”

  Sam chuckled. “He had to know I was drooling like an idiot, but he just cut his eyes at me, lifted a brow, and said, Don’t touch, and passed out cold.”

  “Oh, God, that’s hysterical.” Flayme pressed a hand to her stomach, laughing. “Poor man.”

  “I think he was afraid I’d cut it off digging out the bullet. But he made it loud and clear with just the look from his eyes if I ever told a living soul I’d seen what I saw, there’d be hell to pay. He never said a word about it when he woke up, but I knew he was embarrassed as hell.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Dug the damn bullet out with a little pissant knife I carried in my pocket. No pain medicine for him. All I had to see by was a little penlight. I stuck the strap of my canteen between his teeth and prayed it was enough. “I was never so scared in my life, but he didn’t make a sound while I worked over him.” Sam met Flayme’s wide gaze. “I know it hurt like hell. He clawed his fingers in the sand and I swear his body lifted an inch, but not a peep.” Her eyes clouded with the memory. “There was so much blood, and I didn’t know if I was injuring his…you know.” Sam knitted her brows. “If ever you need a man by your side in battle, he’s the one you want,” she assured Flayme.

  Flayme tossed her bounty of red curls over her shoulders, sniffed and swiped the sudden tears from her eyes. “It must have been pure hell for him.”

  “It was. I was so scared he’d bleed to death or die of infection.”

  “Ah-ha. I do detect a note of interest in the agent.”

  “Reverence,” Sam replied. “Nothing else. Hell, no. A woman would be a fool to tangle with a man like Duel Remington. He’d have her panties off her in nothing flat, on her back, and the deed done before she knew what happened, then it’d be sayonara, sweetheart. No seconds. No repeat visits. She’d be left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart.”

  “He never tried anything on you, even knowing you knew his—him…rather intimately?”

  “Never.” Samantha blinked, tightening her grip on her purse strap. “He’s my top agent. I value him, but he is what he is. It doesn’t include a sexual relationship between us. We had some close calls in the service of our country, and it creates a certain bond. Near death experience shared. Our mortality smacked us in the face some days and necessity forced us to sleep side by side at times, but not once did he ever cross th
e line. He was always a perfect gentleman.”

  “Huh.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Sam said. “When I was first assigned with him, I would probably have given him whatever he wanted, but he didn’t make a pass.”

  “Gay?” Flayme lifted both brows in question and sighed. “I swear, these days, all the good ones are gay. A damn shame, too.”

  Sam giggled. “You’ve obviously never met the man. Testosterone oozes from his pores. No way is he effeminate or gay. A gal would be damn lucky to have one night with a man like him…but—”

  “What about Travis?”

  Samantha stiffened. “What about him?”

  “You’ve worked in the field with him, too?”

  “Yes?”

  “Had to sleep side by side?”

  “Yes. Several times,” Sam confirmed.

  “He never tried to kiss you?”

  Samantha blushed. “No.”

  Flayme grinned. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Ever had to dig a bullet out of his groin?” Flayme asked, curious.

  “Shoulder. He dug a bullet out of my shoulder.”

  “Oh…wow,” Flayme exclaimed. “I didn’t know you’d been shot.”

  “Yes, once. Six years ago. Trust me, once is enough.”

  “And Travis took care of you?”

  “He did.”

  “He’s insane about you.” Flayme eyed Sam, curious to see her reaction.

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “He is. The man can’t keep his eyes off you. They’re hungry, too.”

  “That’s his problem,” Samantha snapped.

  Flayme arched both brows. “Whoa. I didn’t mean to tread on touchy ground.”

  “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to sound bitchy. There’s bad history between Travis and me…absolutely not a smidgen of romance or sexual attraction. He leaves me cold.”

  Flayme grinned. “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  “He’s a good agent, but I–I don’t like him.”