Defense Breach

by Lisa Phillips

  “What is it?”

  He stared out the window into the waning light of sunset and motioned for her to move away. “I don’t know.”

  “Is someone out there?”

  Grady pulled out his cell phone and led Skylar to the living room instead. He called in a possible threat. She sank into the couch, but quickly got back up to pace. “Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe we’re just jumpy because of everything that happened this morning.”

  He caught her when she reached where he stood and drew her into his arms. “Skylar. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you. Threat or not, you’re safe.”

  She nodded.

  Grady couldn’t resist. He leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. He shouldn’t promise she would make it through this when Barnes could show up at any moment, guns blazing. But he would do everything in his power to keep her right here.

  In his arms.

  FOURTEEN

  Skylar started to get up off the couch, thought better of it and sat back down. Blew out a breath. It was just after seven in the morning. The disturbance outside last night had turned out to be nothing more than the neighbor’s cat. But still, Grady had been here with her. He’d stayed.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  She’d slept, though he’d woken her up every thirty minutes. They’d had sandwiches for dinner last night, eggs and coffee already this morning. Barnes was in custody. Why wouldn’t everything be fine, with Grady here to keep her company?

  Skylar tapped her fingers on her leg and looked around her uncle’s living room. Should she suggest they watch a movie this morning? Would that be too date-ish? He’d been so sweet, keeping her company. He made really good food and even washed the dishes. What kind of man did that? Certainly not her uncle or father. They had housekeepers who took care of those things.

  Did he wish he was back at Secret Service Command, interviewing Barnes? Maybe he wanted to be part of what was happening there. And yes, her brain had been going around and around on the same things all night, churning up the same worries. But once she started to even consider the idea of having real feelings for him, then came the anxiety.

  Would he betray her the way her ex-husband had?

  She couldn’t believe Grady capable of dishing out that kind of hurt to her. But then, she’d never believed Earl would cheat on her either.

  Grady had told her about his ex-fiancée. She had cheated on him. Left him for someone else. If anyone knew the sting of betrayal she’d felt, it was him. Maybe she should talk to him about it. But the idea of admitting she felt something for him was scarier than all the guns she’d faced down yesterday.

  He was a full-fledged Secret Service agent. When she graduated, he was going to be her superior.

  This time was nice, but it wasn’t their lives. Just one day spent together, and then they were going to go their separate ways.

  Maybe he knew. Maybe that was why he’d gotten steadily quieter since she’d woken up an hour ago to the smell of fresh coffee. Wishing he was somewhere else, perhaps?

  Even now he scrolled through whatever feed on his phone had his attention. Emails. He didn’t seem like a man who was all about social media. Federal agencies didn’t want their people on sites like that, anyway.

  Anything to save himself from having to talk to her, apparently.

  His phone rang in his hand.

  Grady jumped up. “Agent Farrow.” He listened for a minute, then his attention shifted to include her. “Hang on, I’m gonna put you on speakerphone.” He tapped a button and lay the phone on the coffee table.

  “Like I said, this is Agent Ramirez, from Secret Service Intelligence.” The voice was female, and she sounded around Skylar’s age.

  “What do you have?” Grady asked.

  “I dug up some information about the clock’s history, if you’re interested.” She paused for half a second. “Barnes is in custody, and everyone’s working the thieves’ angle. I just got to thinking about the clock itself, and I couldn’t let it go.”

  “Information would be great,” Grady said.

  A rustle of papers came over the line. “I looked into the background of that particular clock. It was gifted by a foreign dignitary from the United Kingdom a number of years ago.”

  “So there’s a British connection?” Skylar sat up straighter. “Which could link this dignitary to Wilson.”

  Grady nodded, but looked like he was thinking it over. “Makes me wonder if there isn’t some personal connection between Wilson and this dignitary.”

  “He isn’t old enough to have been there, like on the man’s staff, when the clock was gifted to the president,” Ramirez said.

  “But he could be related to him some other way. Maybe even family,” Skylar said.

  “The dignitary and the president evidently fell out of favor with each other. The dignitary tried to retrieve the clock from the White House—I found an article in the Washington Post. There wasn’t anything more than an awkward scene. By then the clock had become a piece of White House decor.”

  She paused. “The dignitary was…well, he’d been into the grape juice, if you know what I mean. And the president wasn’t going to acquiesce to his drunken drama. I’m not sure what the president did—you’d likely have to ask someone who worked for him back then—but the whole situation was brushed over. Nothing else was mentioned about it beyond the scene the dignitary from the UK caused.”

  “Thank you, Agent Ramirez.”

  Grady said, “Yes, thank you. That was very helpful.”

  “Not sure it gives you much about the thieves and this whole situation, but there’s a man at the Smithsonian who has been there almost as long as—” she kicked a few keys “—agent-trainee Skylar Austin has been alive. Might be worth talking to him about a fake artifact in the White House.”

  “Thank you,” Grady said.

  “Not a problem. I’ll email you his info.” Ramirez hung up.

  Grady lifted his phone and tapped it against his leg. “I already talked to the curator.” His eyes were distant, as though his attention was miles away from Skylar. “Maybe this Smithsonian guy knows more about why they might’ve picked that clock and if it bears significance.”

  “You want to go see him?” She pulled at a thread on the blanket on her lap. “I’ll be fine.”

  Grady sighed. “You probably didn’t mean that to look quite so pitiful.” His lips curled into a smile. “But you are the epitome of sad right now. Like you just lost your best friend.”

  Skylar looked away. “It’s fine.”

  The couch moved and he settled beside her. “You’re lying.”

  She gasped.

  “It’s very cute.” He was studying her. “You don’t know what to do with me here, but you don’t want me to leave either?”

  She shrugged.

  “Why don’t you come with me?” He stood and looked at his watch. “I’ll call over there, and if he’s in then let’s go talk to this guy.”

  Skylar stood, not wanting to admit that an outing was probably the best medicine for feeling down. Her head hurt, but it was more of a dull ache. The sleep she’d had seemed to have cleared the fog in her head. But why spend time with him when it would only be more torture over the things she didn’t want to say?

  “Come on.” He chuckled. “Grab your shoes. We can get some lunch while we’re out.”

  She didn’t tell him she was still full from the breakfast he’d made her. If a big, strapping man like him needed to eat again, who was she to stand in the way?

  *

  Grady glanced at her for the fiftieth time during the drive. “Doing okay?”

  She sighed. “Do I not look like it?”

  Great, he’d made her mad. Grady took the turn for the Smithsonian Facilities. Basically where they put everything not on display at the museums in DC. “Uh… You look great. That’s not what I meant.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, I think.”

 
Grady pulled over to the side of the street, determined to get his foot out of his mouth. Otherwise, he was going to ruin this fledgling friendship they had happening.

  Could he deny he was interested enough to wonder if they could have more? She was the most interesting woman he’d met in a long time. Yesterday afternoon and evening had been quiet, but not in a weird way. It had been nice, hanging out with her. Not doing much of anything. When had he ever done that?

  He put the car in Park, shifted on his seat and faced her. The wound on his shoulder smarted, but he ignored it. “I didn’t mean you look bad. And I didn’t mean I changed my mind about you coming. I wouldn’t have brought you all the way out to Maryland if I didn’t want you to come with me.”

  He waited for some kind of acknowledgment, but she held her thoughts close, not giving anything away. So he said, “I’m enjoying spending time with you and getting to know you. Even with the dunk in the river and being shot at yesterday. I’d rather do it over dinner at a nice restaurant, but spending time with you has been good, too. This life is who we are. But the danger should be over now that Barnes is in custody.”

  She sat up a little straighter, so he continued, “We’re not the kind of people whose lives are quiet. We jump in, both feet. We’re the premier federal agency. And the FBI might not agree, because they think they’re better than us, but we’ll just let them live in their fantasyland.”

  Her lips twitched.

  “I’m sorry you were in danger yesterday. I didn’t want you to get hurt but, now that it’s done, we can do something else.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  “Which part of it?” He waited on her answer, unsure whether he’d be satisfied with it. If she said she was okay with the work, did it mean she didn’t want to see what else he might have planned? They’d already shared dinner and breakfast, but that could hardly erase the stress of the day before.

  Maybe he was reading this whole situation wrong. What if she wasn’t attracted to him at all? He didn’t want to be insecure, but his ex-fiancée had left him questioning every feeling. And every motive. Skylar had proved herself trustworthy and a reliable part of the team. What more could he ask for?

  Grady knew, though. For a split second, he wanted to ask her for everything. But that was ridiculous. They’d only met yesterday. It wasn’t like he was in love with her.

  He just wanted a date. Dinner somewhere nice, like he’d mentioned.

  “I’m good with the other stuff.” The look on her face said something entirely different than what he’d thought. Maybe he wasn’t far off base. She smiled. “And not being in danger.”

  Okay, so she isn’t going to elaborate. He sighed. Would a woman ever make sense to him?

  Grady pulled back onto the road, and within minutes they reached the security guard for the Smithsonian site entrance. The man was skeptical but, given Grady’s credentials and his call ahead, the official made quick contact with Secret Service Intelligence to confirm Skylar was who she said she was and they were ushered through the gate.

  Skylar gaped at the building. “Pretty big, considering this place is basically the Smithsonian’s attic, right?”

  “Maybe it’s secretly run by a bunch of hoarders.” He parked the car, then shot her a grin. “At least, I might believe that if I hadn’t seen pictures of drawer after drawer all neatly arranged.”

  “Good.” She cracked her door open. “All that organization is probably going to help us.”

  At the front desk, they asked for Daniel Painter. The man who strode from a hallway did so with a gait accompanied by the click of his cane on the tile floor. The sound echoed through the lobby. He peered around, then found them. His grin revealed a mouthful of teeth so even and straight they had to be dentures. The man reminded Grady of his grandfather in a way that made his chest tighten.

  He rubbed the front of his vest, then stuck his hand out. “Mr. Painter?”

  “Daniel, please.”

  “Grady Farrow.” He motioned to Skylar. “This is Skylar Austin.”

  Daniel lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Mademoiselle.”

  Skylar flushed. Grady wondered if maybe he should try that—see if he got a similar reaction. She cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.”

  The older man didn’t let go of her hand.

  “Mr. Painter?”

  Daniel smiled, not taking his eyes off Skylar. “Where have you been hiding all my life?” He glanced at Grady, a mischievous look on his face. “Surely not with the Secret Service.”

  “Actually, she is Secret Service.” Grady was getting annoyed now. Not that he was jealous this man was showing Skylar such intense attention. That wasn’t it. But still… “When she finishes training, she’ll officially be an agent.”

  “Assuming I survive that long.” She grinned. “I had a rough day yesterday.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “How mysterious! We’ll have tea. You can tell me all about it.”

  Skylar chuckled. “Actually, we came to ask you about an entirely different mystery.” She tugged on her hand, but Daniel now held it in both of his. “A mantel clock from the White House.”

  Daniel’s gaze flicked to Grady, then back to Skylar. “That old thing? It was mentioned to me, but I hardly remembered it. Not the most exciting thing I’ve been involved with in this business.” He leaned closer to Skylar. “Ask me about the work I did unearthing ancient artifacts in Egypt. Anything but a completely uninteresting clock from jolly old England.”

  Skylar finally extricated her hand from Daniel’s. She could have pulled it away at any moment, but that would have seemed rude. This she did with grace. Especially when she wound her arm in Daniel Painter’s and said, “That clock was the reason why my life was in danger. It’s why we’re here.”

  “Say no more, my dear.” They strode down the hall, the click of Daniel’s cane echoing again.

  Grady figured he’d been relegated to following, so he brought up the rear. Skylar glanced over her shoulder at him, an eek look on her face. Then she smiled, so he smiled back.

  “Tell me all about this danger, and I shall come to your rescue with the force of my extensive knowledge.”

  Grady nearly rolled his eyes. The older man’s flirting was outrageous, but if Skylar hadn’t shut it down—and she didn’t seem to want Grady to either—then he was content to follow her lead. If she wanted to use the opportunity to get the answers they needed, it was okay with him.

  Did he want to be the one with her arm wrapped in his? Sure. Did he want her to smile at him, then laugh like that at something he said? Of course. But Grady was also good with stepping back and letting her decide what she was okay with and what she wasn’t.

  Daniel headed for a corner office, testament to how long he’d been working for the Smithsonian. On the wall was a plaque commemorating forty years of service. It had to be more now. Was the man planning for retirement, or determined to live as much of his life until that wasn’t an option anymore?

  He led Skylar to a couple of wingback chairs. Grady leaned against a file cabinet and folded his arms. It wasn’t easy over his bulky vest, but he made it work. He wasn’t going to let Daniel know he wasn’t perfectly comfortable with what was happening here.

  “When the Secret Service called,” Daniel said as he settled into his seat, “naturally I took a look at my files.”

  Grady nearly rolled his eyes. “The Secret Service” had called. Like Skylar was the one here to see him and Grady was the help instead of point on this entire business.

  Skylar said, “Did you find information about the clock we were asking about?”

  Something Grady couldn’t name washed over Daniel’s face. “Of course.” Was he going to lie to them? Daniel pulled a paper file from the desktop. “The clock was of German design but manufactured in England before the turn of the twentieth century. I cleaned it, performed some minor repairs to the mechanism and then sent it back to the White House.” He looked up and pressed
his lips together in a smile. “All quite routine, I assure you. Except for one thing.”

  “Which was?” Grady was glad Skylar asked the question. He would have done if she hadn’t, but she seemed to have the conversation in hand. Had she noticed what he had about Daniel’s change in demeanor?

  “A note regarding a shipping problem.” Daniel paused. “Happens all the time, but it got back there in good time, so all was well.”

  Skylar shifted in her seat. “If I were to tell you that the clock in the White House was, in fact, a fake, what would you say?”

  Daniel blanched. “Good gravy. Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “It certainly didn’t happen on my watch, I assure you.”

  Grady wasn’t so sure. It was Skylar who said, “We certainly don’t think you had anything to do with it.”

  “Well,” Daniel huffed, “of course, I didn’t.”

  Grady’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He slid it out, saw the number was from Intelligence and moved toward the door. “I’m going to take this.”

  She nodded. No nerves, no silent communication. He figured that meant she was good and stepped into the hallway.

  “Agent Farrow.”

  “I know you said to email, but I spoke with Agent Stringer, and he told me to call you right away.”

  Was Stringer outside? “What is it?”

  “There was an accident early this morning during transport to the federal prison where they were going to hold Barnes. A truck blew up, and he escaped.”

  FIFTEEN

  Daniel leaned back in his chair. There was something about the old man Skylar couldn’t quite put her finger on. It bothered her, nonetheless. He grasped his cane and stood. “Would you like a tour of the facility?”

  “I should catch up with Agent Farrow.” Not that Grady had left. He was just in the hallway on his phone. “We have another appointment after this.”

  Just lunch, actually. And probably fast food. Some drive-through. But Daniel didn’t need to know that.

  She felt strange not being with Grady. Clingy wasn’t her thing, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t feel a whole lot safer with him in the room. What was it about this man that weirded her out? She hadn’t felt it in the hall. She’d simply thought he was a charming old man practicing his rusty flirting skills. Then Grady had excused himself and…something had changed.