What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  “Funny, smart ass. No, I’ll lock up.”

  She swallowed and pressed her hand to her breast, feeling her heart slamming against her chest. She never heard the guy come in or turn on the light. Light streamed in beneath the door and through the crack. “Who was that?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We can go now.” He opened the closet door. The man had gone, and the door to the room was closed. When they stepped into the room, Jason gave her a long look.

  “How did he know we were in the closet?”

  “He’s Secret Service.” He grimaced, as if that explained it all.

  She strode over to the table and examined the implements of fetish toys and bondage equipment. Floggers, dildos, vibrators, cuffs, canes, gel lubricant, clamps, rope and a few things Zoe couldn’t identify.

  “What you saw obviously can’t be taken out of this room.”

  “I’m not sure what I saw. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  “Not tonight. You’ll get a full explanation if you stay, but I recommend you don’t.” The man was a master at hiding his emotions. She wasn’t sure if he hated the idea of working with her again or if there was something about the job she should be concerned about.

  She stuck her hands on her hips and glared at him. “And do what? Get a job as a detective in the suburbs? You need to give me more than just telling me to quit my job. If you don’t want to work with me again, just say it.”

  He rubbed his face and looked around the room. “It’s not that, Zoe. It was a mistake. They shouldn’t have hired you.”

  She raised her arms up in the air and dropped them by her sides. “Why? Julia and Melissa seem to think an ex-CIA agent is perfectly qualified for filing or whatever they want me to do. All I want is a chance to do something that matters, something important.”

  He smiled sympathetically and stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. “I wouldn’t tell you to leave unless there was good reason.” He was dead serious. The pained look in his eyes twisted at her heart.

  “Maybe. But I don’t walk away from anything unless I have a good reason.” The silence stretched between them. Sadness and regret crept into her soul.

  “I know.” He took her in his arms and hugged her close. Months of anger, bitterness, and pain dissolved. At least some of it. She stepped back and gave him an up-and-down look. Damn, he looked better than she remembered.

  She forced a smile. “The suit’s a good look for you.” They never dressed so formal while gathering intel overseas. His trim dark hair had a more professional look, less military than the last time she’d seen him. The suit couldn’t hide the well-toned body-building frame. Even at five-ten, Zoe felt short and small next to his six feet, four inches.

  His mouth quirked in a slight grin. With the mix of emotions running through her head, she didn’t want to address their relationship right now. The churning in her stomach she attributed to the Chinese food she had for dinner. “I need to go home and walk Dexter.”

  “Dexter?” He frowned.

  “My black Lab. He’s still a puppy. My neighbor lets him out and feeds him when I’m home late.”

  “He’s probably eaten your couch by now.” His eyes glittered when he smiled this time. “You bought a house, a dog, really settled down. Not the Zoe I remember.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’m all grown up.” The teasing look in his eyes changed to sadness. She was sure he knew she was failing miserably in her attempt to live a nine-to-five life.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He put an arm around her shoulders.

  The door to the room opened, and a man dressed in black walked in. He glanced at Zoe and gave a small nod. He could be the one who wore the black leather face mask. “You’re wanted upstairs, Jason.”

  Jason murmured a few words to himself. He didn’t sound pleased. “Great. How’d it go?”

  The man shrugged. “Okay, I guess. We’re about to find out.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why is she here?”

  “Long story. It’s not a concern.”

  “She shouldn’t be in here until she’s briefed.” The man continued to stare at her, and Zoe knew he was considering whether there had been a breach in security. Not knowing what was going on, she kept her mouth shut and let Jason talk his way out. If there was a way out.

  “Julia instructed me to explain the program to Zoe,” Jason said. “I haven’t gotten to all the details yet.”

  The man nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. “You’ll have to save the rest of your tour for another time. Julia wants us in her office now.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Jason said as the guard walked out, leaving the door open. Jason turned to Zoe. “Can you wait for me? I’d like to walk you to your car. It’s late.”

  She laughed. “I can take care of myself.”

  He frowned. “I know that, but it’s a hike to the parking lot.”

  She knew what he was thinking. “Turkey was different,” she snapped. “Stop trying to protect me. I could take down a linebacker with a .357 pointed at my back.”

  He held up his hand. “Okay. Sorry. See you tomorrow.” He pulled out his phone and punched in a quick text.

  “You’re supposed to tell me what was going on down here.”

  “Not now.”

  “Why?”

  “Plausible deniability. I’m hoping you’ll quit.”

  “Don’t count on it. Should I be worried?”

  “Very.”

  Chapter Three

  By the time Zoe left the White House, it was almost one a.m. She yawned as she speed-walked to her car. Why bother leaving when she had to be back to work at seven? Her car was a couple of blocks away. The night was chilly and the streets quiet. Unusual for Washington. Checking her phone, she saw that Damien had played the word D U N E. He was beating her by fifty-nine points. She still had a chance to catch up. She’d planned a few options, but all she could play was one word with two of the E’s she had. By using an X and D already on the board, she added the word E X P L O D E and clicked PLAY.

  Moments later, she received a text from him.

  How’s the job? Talk to Dad lately?

  He ended the e-mail with an ASCII art of an owl. She stopped walking and took a few breaths.

  The owl was Damien’s sign meaning he was heading out on a mission. Asking if she’d talked to Dad was his way to say, “Let Dad know.” Who knows when she’d hear from him again, and she knew how bad the situation was over there. Since the new Iranian president had taken power, corruption and violence in Iran and other countries had escalated, creating monumental challenges for Iran’s citizens. Oh God, the word she just played. What an idiot.

  A few moments later, her phone buzzed with another text. Damien again.

  Rough day? Can’t sleep?

  He thought she was home in bed, considering it was one in the morning.

  Not really. New job.

  K. Get some sleep, sis. LU

  LU2.

  She slipped the phone back into her purse and continued walking. Footsteps followed behind her, matching her pace at first then speeding up, moving closer. Slowly, she slipped the strap of her purse over her head so it lay across her body. Her hands tightened into fists. A man, by the heaviness of the steps. She planned her attack, depending on which side he approached. Two strikes—forearm and fist, then knee.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his approach from her left. She took a breath and raised her left arm.

  “Anyone ever tell you not to text—ooph—”

  Zoe spun around and struck his solar plexus with her elbow. A rush of air expelled from his lungs. As she continued around, she was about to smash his nose with the heel of her hand, but something in his voice sounded familiar. She eased up on the momentum of the punch, hitting his mouth instead. He went down, and she climbed on top, her knee pressed on his chest.

  She sucked in air as if she’d run a mile, adrenaline pumping in her ears. She blinked, staring at one of the people who
interviewed her for the White House job, Frank Phillips, the security adviser. “Jesus, Frank, you scared the daylights out of me.”

  “Scared you? Christ, Zoe. I was about to say it’s not safe to text at this hour walking alone. I stand corrected, er, not exactly standing. Can you let me up?”

  “Sure. Sorry, I hit you. Are you okay?” He was ex-military, built solid like a carved pile of cinder blocks.

  He rubbed his jaw. “Better than my pride. How’s your hand?”

  “Okay.” She continued walking toward her car, and he paced alongside. “Merritt call you?”

  “What if he did?” Frank turned and looked behind them and around each car, shrub or tree they passed. Were all ex-military this paranoid?

  “I told him I don’t need protection.” She picked up her pace, and he matched her steps.

  “I see that. But the orders come directly from the first lady. The special tactics team involved with the current project requires personal protection.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “What special tactics team? Protection from what? No one placed me on any team. I’m filing papers in the basement.” She marched toward the parking lot before he had a chance to answer. Her keys were out, and she pressed the key fob. It unlocked the car with a chirp and flash of headlights.

  Every ounce of her body was exhausted. She didn’t have the energy to get more out of Frank. She doubted he’d tell her much anyway.

  “A lot has been going on with the peace treaty,” he said. “Security risk is high. Go home and get some rest.”

  “Thanks for walking me to my car,” she said.

  “Anytime. Maybe I should have you walk me to mine.”

  She laughed and considered that a compliment as she got in the car and started it. He gave a wave and watched her leave.

  When she got home, Dexter, sleepy-eyed and tail wagging, met her as she walked through the door. After Zoe petted and hugged him, he charged for the back door. Zoe let him out to pee. Mrs. Snyder had left a note on the kitchen counter saying Dexter had been fed and walked at six p.m. When she let him back inside, he went straight to his food dish.

  Zoe petted him. “How does one so little eat so much?” She added an extra scoop of food to his dish and checked his water, then glanced around the room and sniffed. She was on the lookout for any doggy presents. She didn’t smell anything unsavory. What she did find was white paper everywhere. It took her a minute to realize he’d unrolled the toilet paper from the guest bath and decorated the entire first floor. “Nice job, Dexter.”

  How could she be angry at him? He was one of the few things in her life she could depend on always wanting her, trusting her, needing her. At this hour, she was too exhausted to scold him. The little guy had been bored all day. She’d have to get him a few more toys and keep the bathroom door closed. At least he hadn’t eaten the couch.

  At noon the next day, Zoe sat in the employee cafeteria, sipped her fourth cup of strong coffee and waited for the caffeine to kick in. She poked at a Caesar salad.

  Normally, the White House was a busy place, but today the employees looked especially haggard and worried. Most of them didn’t stop to sit and eat lunch. They ate on the run. A few Secret Service agents in dark suits, sunglasses and coiled ear pieces marched in, grabbed food, then sat down at a table against the far wall. All of them adjusted their chairs so that their backs weren’t facing the door. Typical.

  Zoe smiled at the image the men brought to mind—the movie Matrix and all the controllers in dark suits hunting down Mr. Anderson.

  The remaining tables were mostly empty. She kept watch for Melissa or Jason. There were a lot of unanswered questions, and it was time someone filled her in. National news highlighted the foreign diplomats in town, meeting with the president, UN officials and advisers involved with the controversial peace agreement. From the looks on everyone’s faces, the talks weren’t going well. All heads in the room turned toward the television screens up on the walls when CNN announced the escalating violence in the small country of Chad, giving the latest numbers of casualties. Surrounding countries were descending into chaos and soon would be caught up in the momentum. The increased fighting in Africa only added to the continued war and brutality in the Middle East.

  “Hi.” Melissa plopped down at her table with a tuna sandwich and coffee, out of breath. “I have exactly ninety seconds for lunch. I heard you and Jason Merritt from Secret Service used to work together.”

  Zoe studied Melissa, waiting for her to mention the sex dungeon and mystery man from the evening before. The woman gave no indication of anything out of the ordinary. She could’ve been an intelligence agent. “Where did you hear that?” Zoe asked.

  “Jason. I thought he was going to give you an orientation.”

  “Haven’t heard from him today.” Zoe shrugged, glancing around at the rush of people coming and leaving. “Is this what happens every time we have diplomats visiting?”

  “Pretty much.” Melissa took a bite of tuna sandwich. “Worse this time. Stressful situation overseas,” she said under her breath.

  “So I hear.” Zoe nodded toward the television. She lost her appetite for the rest of her salad. “The media says we’re heading into two wars on two continents. What a military nightmare. The world is like a patchwork quilt splitting apart at its seams.”

  “This peace treaty has to pass.” Melissa glanced around the room as if making sure they weren’t overheard. She promptly changed the subject. “Jason didn’t call you?”

  “No, was he supposed to?”

  Melissa’s eyes narrowed with that bit of information. “What time did you end up leaving last night?”

  “About one. I got started on another file, then Jason stopped in and wouldn’t let me leave until then.” The time she left could be checked. She didn’t have to give details.

  Melissa put her coffee cup down and stopped chewing. Her face went pale. “Why so late?” There was an edge to her voice.

  “There must’ve been a meeting or security issue late last night.”

  “Oh? What makes you think it was a meeting?” Melissa was convincing in her act.

  Zoe shrugged. She came up with a lie. “I don’t know. Jason had to lock me in until it was over. And I heard a number of people come down the stairs. I know the Situation Room is down there.”

  “Not in your section,” Melissa argued. “How long did you two work together at Langley?”

  Zoe kept her tone even. “Three years.”

  “He’s a good guy.” Her friend forced a smile and averted her gaze. “You look exhausted. Try to get home early tonight.”

  “I plan on it.” Clearly, Melissa had no intention of telling Zoe about the sex dungeon and the wild parties.

  “Hey, Zoe. Hey, Melissa. Love the scarf, Zoe.” Alana MacKenna practically bounced over to their table. “Need a little icing to perk up your day?” Alana was a White House researcher who worked with Melissa and had more energy than Zoe and Melissa put together. Maybe she got more than three hours of sleep last night.

  “Alana, you’ve been warned about this. Zoe hasn’t been briefed yet,” Melissa said, checking her watch. “Crap. Gotta go. We have to go out for drinks some time. I know where all the hot guys hang out.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.” Zoe wasn’t sure about the hot guys. Seeing Jason had stirred up more than old wounds and mixed emotions. Their heated encounter last night was still fresh on her mind and filled her with a deep ache and longing. She was over him, or wanted to be over him. Whatever they once had was a brief affair. Messing around like a couple of teenagers in the closet was not the beginning of a relationship. It was opportunity and hormones, nothing more. Initiating another affair was a bad idea. He’d only disappear again. Did she want to go through that pain all over again?

  Melissa frowned at Alana. “Best you keep your distance until it’s all over.” Her warning didn’t dull the sparkle in Alana’s green eyes. She retied her long, red hair into a neat twist and clippe
d it. “I know, but Zoe should see this anyway. She’ll be part of the program soon enough. Icing is what makes our job worthwhile.” She grabbed Zoe’s salad, didn’t ask if she was finished, and dumped it in the trash. “Hurry. You have to see this.”

  Melissa walked in the other direction, shaking her head in disapproval.

  “Pull your phone out,” Alana said softly as they walked toward the Oval Office. “Act like we’re waiting for a meeting or something. I’ll tell you where to stand.”

  Zoe pulled out her phone and pretended to text someone. “Why are we doing this?”

  “Icing,” Alana said again. She stopped, and they stood along a wall, several steps from the main entrance to the Oval Office. Alana ducked her head and checked her phone but had her gaze focused on the doors. Several staff members and Secret Service were around, so they were inconspicuous as far as Zoe could tell.

  Be a ghost, don’t make eye contact, blend into the background was Zoe’s gut instinct. For what, she didn’t know yet. “What are we waiting for?” she whispered.

  “See those three foreign guys standing at the door?”

  Zoe nodded.

  “They’re security for the Iraqi dignitaries who are speaking with the president right now.”

  “About what?” Zoe asked.

  Alana sighed. “Inside the Oval Office right now is the cake.”

  “Cake?” Zoe didn’t get it.

  Alana’s eyes widened with delight. “Yes, cake. Proof that we were successful at our job. Watch their expressions when they come out the main entrance. They’ll come out in a couple minutes.”

  “Their expressions. That’s the icing?” Zoe was confused.

  “Exactly.”

  “Does this have to do with the peace talks?”

  “It’ll all be explained to you.”

  Shouts came from inside the room. And the doors burst open. Two Iraqi delegates charged out, faces red and teeth flashing as they snarled. The Iraqi president shouted orders to his guards in Arabic. Zoe studied his face, and he wasn’t the man she saw in the sex dungeon the night before. So why was he so angry? The group stood at the door, shouting, while the Secret Service tried to usher them out of the White House. A Secret Service guard closed the door to the Oval Office.