Under His Protection

by Karen Erickson

  “He’ll be treated for his wounds and ultimately released. And when he’s released, he’ll be arrested. Kidnapping is a federal offense.” The deputy shifted on his feet. “That’s why I need to talk to you, Ms. Hewitt. I need to understand what exactly Richard Bentley did to you and the role Amber Bentley played in this.”

  Blake nodded. “Okay.”

  “And we need to talk to you as well, Ms. Hewitt,” one of the agents said. “An immediate investigation will be underway regarding Agent Russell’s handling of this entire situation. We will need your full cooperation.”

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment, desperate to gather the strength she’d need to handle all of this.

  They were going to try and paint Mason in the absolute worst light for getting her into this situation. And she refused to let them. She would do whatever it took to protect the man she loved.

  No matter what.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Six weeks later

  “Blake! You look positively...stunning.”

  She smiled politely at the gentleman who stood in front of her, his beaming wife close by his side. “Thank you. We’re so glad you could attend tonight.”

  “We wouldn’t miss your family’s holiday party for the world. Especially since this might be the last one here for a while.” The man’s expression turned serious and he leaned in close, as if about to share a great secret. “We were devastated when they lost the election.”

  “Yes, we all were.” Her cheeks hurt from keeping the smile in place and she let it fall, her facial muscles sending her a silent message of thanks.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the name of the man who stood in front of her. A senator perhaps, one of her father’s old cronies, he was terribly familiar as was his wife. But not familiar enough.

  Watching them walk away, she grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray, gulping the cold, crisp liquid down in three swallows. Bubbles tickled her throat and she glanced about the crowded room, wishing she were anywhere but here.

  It had been the longest six weeks of her life—because she hadn’t seen Mason.

  She knew he was recovering at his parents’ home in Virginia but that was all. Her father had forbidden her to contact him for fear of what the media might do if they found out.

  Or even worse, if Mason’s superiors discovered they’d been in contact with each other.

  Blake had been whisked off the island that fateful day, after dutifully answering the deputy’s harried questions. She’d flown back to Washington, arriving late that night at her parents’ home. They’d hugged her so tight when she came through the front door, she’d burst into tears.

  But she’d cried more for the loss of Mason and the idyllic time they’d spent together than anything else. His injuries hadn’t been as bad as originally thought, though it had taken him some time to recover.

  She’d spoken to him twice when he was at the hospital in San Francisco, sneaking the calls in since her parents refused to let her out of their sight until after the election. It had been so good to hear his voice, to talk to him and listen to his reassurances that everything would be all right.

  The investigation into Mason’s behavior had started the moment she boarded the plane with the three intimidating Secret Service agents. She’d fought for him tooth and nail. Attended what felt like endless questioning sessions where they badgered her over every fine detail of the near three weeks she spent with Mason on the island. She spilled much but not all, not wanting to risk Mason’s career. He’d never been at fault for what happened. She was the one who pursued him, who snuck out of the house without telling him.

  She was a mess. Everything that happened was all her fault.

  Her father had been devastated by the entire ordeal. She reassured him again and again she had nothing to be ashamed of, but he wouldn’t hear it. She’d disappointed him yet again, and with a man he’d trusted beyond measure.

  It didn’t help that they’d lost the election. Luckily enough, they’d kept the Whitney Island kidnapping incident down to a dull roar—how she wasn’t quite sure. The national news networks had picked up the story then dropped it, thanks to the closed mouths of the local island residents and the media’s overzealous focus on the new political party coming into the White House.

  Now it was almost Christmas, and her parents were putting on their perfect public face, holding their annual holiday party. Most of Washington DC was in attendance, wishing the Hewitts farewell.

  Blake hated every moment of it.

  Her mother had dressed her, picking out the scarlet red gown to “put some vibrant color back in your face, dear”. The dress was gorgeous, with delicate pale gold embroidery trimming the bodice. Slim through the waist before it flared at the hips into a full skirt that swished and danced when she moved.

  It felt false, wearing such a beautiful dress when she was so sad. Her makeup had been professionally done, the red shade on her lips matched the color of her gown perfectly. Her mother’s stylist had shaped Blake’s hair into an intricate design, swept up and dotted with the occasional miniature red rose or sprig of ivy.

  She was a pretty little holiday princess doll put out on display.

  “Smile, dear. The frown lines around your mouth are becoming more pronounced,” her mother murmured close to her ear.

  Blake startled, hadn’t even heard her mother approach. She did as requested, curving her lips into a stretch that could almost pass for a smile. Her mother nodded her approval.

  “Much better. It’s the holiday season. You’re supposed to look happy, not dreary. Especially with that gorgeous color you’re wearing.” Her mother sighed and tapped an index finger against her pursed lips. “And that dress is to die for, dear. You look like a dream. I hope you let the photographers standing by take some photos of you.”

  “I went outside already with Dad.” Her father had forced her, made her walk out and face the media with him. She’d clung to his arm, smiling and waving, looking every inch the responsible vice president’s daughter.

  No way could she admit the relief tinged with guilt she’d felt the night of the election. Her father’s loss meant she wouldn’t have to be under the public eye any longer. They’d find someone else to focus on, make fun of and poke at.

  Thank goodness.

  “Perfect. Well.” Her mother smiled, a scheming gleam alighting her blue eyes. “I have someone I want you to meet. It’s Senator Wheldon’s son. He’s thirty, a lawyer on Capitol Hill and very handsome. He graduated Princeton, you know. And he’s from a very prestigious family too.”

  It sounded as if her mother had just rattled off his pedigree and resume all in one. “I’m not interested.”

  Her mother frowned, breaking her own advice. No dreary looks allowed. “Blake, you must start moving in the proper social circles. Find a nice man and eventually become engaged. It’s what’s expected.”

  “By who?” She turned to look at her mother, her expression icy, she could feel it. Anger simmered in her blood and she wanted to announce to the entire room she’d already found her perfect match. And then promptly lost him.

  “Don’t be argumentative.” Her mother shot her the same icy expression and turned to scan the crowd. The glittering fabric of the ivy green dress she wore shone brightly beneath the lights, and Blake thought she’d never seen her look so beautiful.

  But her mother was always impeccably dressed, perfectly coiffed. Pleasantly polite and quiet, well-spoken, the right answer always falling from her lips.

  Her mother fervently wished Blake would end up exactly like her.

  “I don’t want to meet him,” Blake muttered, smiling at a passerby who flashed her a warm smile in return.

  “You will meet him. I’ll find you later and introduce you. I’m going to mingle now. I suggest you do the same.”

  Blake watched her mother glide away, smiling and nodding at those she passed.

  God. Blake swallowed hard, wishin
g for another glass of champagne, anything to wash away the bitterness that consumed her. Bitterness at the loss of the one man she loved, at the way her parents treated her, at the way they expected her to behave.

  She was too old for this. She’d been under their guidance too far into adulthood and their grip didn’t look like it would lessen any time soon. She needed to get away, make a stand for herself, show some independence.

  But how?

  A waiter approached, a handsome young man with a quick smile and friendly brown eyes. She plucked the glass from his tray and raised it to him in a silent toast. He nodded with a not so subtle wink.

  Yes, indeed, already she was on the right track showcasing that independence. Getting drunk at the family holiday party and mildly flirting with the help, not that it meant anything. She’d roll her eyes at herself if she could, but she’d probably drawn too much attention. The wrong kind of attention, her mother would say.

  She really needed to get out of here.

  When she saw her father approach, she wanted to bolt. Drop the glass and run as far and as fast as possible, afraid of what he might say. Her mother had been enough already.

  Instead, she stood straighter, smiling as he walked toward her. The look in his eyes was strangely compelling. Thoughtful.

  “Are you all right?” He took both of her hands and squeezed. “Your hands are like ice.”

  “It’s cold in here.” It really wasn’t that bad. She just didn’t know what else to say.

  “Hmm.” He frowned. “All of these bodies crushed close together, I thought it was too warm. Did I tell you that you look lovely this evening?”

  “Yes, you already did.” She dipped her head, unable to meet her father’s gaze. “Thank you.”

  “Trying to catch a young man’s eye?”

  Her head popped up. She noticed something in her father’s tone of voice, something she didn’t recognize. “If Mother has her way, then I guess so. But I’m not interested.”

  “Really?” James Hewitt cocked a brow and squeezed her hands tighter. “You know, Blake, I’ve made a lot of mistake, but I’ve only ever wanted to ensure you were happy.”

  She stayed silent, unsure how to reply.

  “And I’ve had your best interests at heart, but you always seemed to find a way to defy me.”

  “We shouldn’t talk about this here. It’ll upset you,” she murmured, unable to bear hearing one more word at what a disappointment she’d proven to be.

  “You’re not listening to what I’m saying. I’m trying to admit I’ve been wrong.” Her head whipped up, her eyes going wide when she saw the sincere expression on his face. “You’re a grown woman, yet we treat you like a child. And we shouldn’t. You’re our only child and it’s still hard to think of you as an adult. But you’re old enough to make your own decisions, whether they be right or wrong. We should stand by and offer our support, nothing more, nothing less.”

  Her mouth gaped open. What brought on her father’s dramatic change of heart? “Why are you saying this now?”

  “You’ve been so miserable these last few weeks. It hurts me to see you so...sad. There’s no light inside of you, no fire. And there’s always a bit of fire in my Blake.”

  Tears misted her eyes and she blinked them away. She wasn’t the same because she lost the man she loved. That would change anyone.

  “I’m saying that if you want something bad enough, you should go find it.” He let her hands drop and leaned toward her, his voice lowering. “And when you find it, you shouldn’t let it go. Ever.”

  Her father kissed her cheek and then walked away, leaving her shocked and dazed in the middle of the crowded family room. She stood next to a twinkling twelve-foot fully decorated Christmas tree with wobbly knees. She wished she had something to hold onto for support but would probably send the tree toppling to the floor if she tried to grab one of its overloaded branches.

  She glanced about the room, looking for what, she didn’t know. Confusion flooded her and she wondered again at her father’s cryptic words. What did he refer to? And why the sudden shift in his opinion of her?

  It didn’t make any sense. Unless someone had spoken to the normally impenetrable James Hewitt and convinced him she wasn’t so bad after all.

  A pianist began to play a traditional Christmas carol and Blake sighed, nostalgia flooding her. The holidays were both a curse and a blessing. She loved them, but hated that she usually spent them alone.

  And it looked as if she would suffer through them alone once again. If she closed her eyes tight and made a wish, would it come true? She’d played that game often when she was a child and sometimes, it had worked.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness and she turned, scanning the many faces before her. Someone watched her, she could feel it. She started to move, her skirt flaring wide and the crowd parted for her as she moved through the room.

  The urgent need to find...someone took over and she tilted her head, looking for a sign. And when her eyes alit upon that sign, she gasped so loud, the guests who stood nearby turned to look at her.

  She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

  It was Mason.

  * * * *

  Nerves buzzed through Mason, making him anxious. He clutched the glass in his hand though didn’t drink from it. He wanted no alcohol in his system, rarely drank the stuff for fear of losing that tightly reined-in control he liked to keep.

  He’d come to DC yesterday to take part in the final interview of his investigation. James Hewitt had been waiting, wanting to speak with him in private once the interview was finished.

  Mason had practically quaked in his shoes. What did Blake’s father want to talk about? Of course, Hewitt knew exactly what happened while they were on Whitney Island. Blake had confessed much of it in the hopes she could convince the internal investigators that Mason wasn’t at fault for what happened.

  Was the VP angry? Ready to berate him for what Mason had done to his daughter? Mason could take it, would take it with every shred of dignity he could muster. And then he would confess his love for Blake. That his intentions had been true, and he’d never meant to hurt her.

  Something shocking happened in the meeting, though. The investigation was concluded—and they didn’t find Mason at fault, most likely thanks to Blake’s input. Then they informed him of his new assignment—working detail in the White House, starting as soon as he was fully recovered.

  Stunned, he’d agreed and they decided on a late January start date, soon after the inauguration of the new president. He’d been fully prepared for more hostile questioning. Instead, they’d offered him a job, an actual promotion. He hadn’t felt this positive, this happy since he last spoke with Blake.

  When she’d quit calling him, it was as if his world had crumbled. He’d gone back home, much to the urgent requests of his parents, specifically his mother, and started his recovery there. Still with no word from Blake.

  Mason figured she didn’t want him anymore. During his darkest moments, he’d assumed she might have found someone new. But he never saw her in the gossip magazines or blogs and damn his hide, he’d checked. It was as if she’d gone underground, never to be heard from again.

  His heart ached at the possibility of that being remotely true.

  Wary when he entered the conference room to speak with Hewitt, he’d been startled yet again at the Vice President’s seeming acceptance of him. Hewitt had even called him a hero.

  When he mentioned Blake’s name, Mason had gone completely still, waiting to hear any little morsel he could get. Like why she hadn’t contacted him, checked on him to see if he was all right? It hurt, not hearing from her when he’d be laid up for the last six weeks. He’d taken it as a sign.

  A sign she didn’t want him. He’d never told her how he felt about her, always keeping her at arm’s length and that had been his downfall. He’d blown it by never telling her the truth. At least, that’s what he believed during those long, col
d nights when his side had ached like a bitch and he couldn’t sleep.

  When Hewitt admitted he and his wife were the reason Blake hadn’t contacted him, Mason had been floored. And when he’d given his full permission for Mason to pursue his daughter, he’d nearly fallen off his chair. The invitation to their holiday party had immediately followed and he’d given a silent nod as his answer, too shocked to speak.

  Having just arrived, he was impressed with the dazzling decorations, the opulently dressed crowd and the delicious smelling food. He’d heard about the Hewitt’s holiday parties, though he’d never been lucky enough to attend. Not even as an agent on duty.

  Craning his neck, he searched for Blake. The real reason he was here. Murmurings about how beautiful she looked tonight had surrounded him only moments earlier, when he’d stood near the bar, his entire body aching to see her.

  Did she know he would be in attendance tonight? Would she be happy to see him? After hearing Hewitt express worry over Blake’s dismal mood since returning from California, Mason could only hope the answer was yes.

  He tugged at the neck of his shirt, uncomfortable in the monkey suit. Hewitt warned the party was a formal affair so Mason scrambled to find a tux. It had been months since he’d worn a suit on a regular basis and he’d grown used to the casual clothes he now wore.

  Tonight though, was all about impressions. Impressing Blake, impressing upon her parents how serious his intentions were when it came to their daughter. How much he wanted to be a part of her life.

  Forever, if she’d have him.

  He intended to do right by Blake. He wanted her by his side, hopefully for the rest of his life. It had always scared him, the thought of marriage, of pledging his life and love to a woman until the day he died, amen.

  For Blake, he would do anything, everything it took. He loved her. So much, it hurt.

  Mason frowned. Damn it, the woman turned him into a sap. And for once, he wasn’t going to fight it.

  Taking a sip of his champagne, he grimaced and glanced about the room. A flash of red caught his eye and he took a step forward, then another. Blonde hair touched by red and green glimmered like fine spun gold beneath the light from the grand chandeliers hanging overhead. He knew by the swift kick to his heart it was Blake.