Smoke and Sin

by Shayla Black

  “If you’re allowed to leave the house,” Liz pointed out. “How do you feel about searching his room?”

  “Like I might get murdered if he catches me.” After all, if she was right, Matthew Kemp had already killed one of her closest friends. “But if I get the chance, I’ll probably take it anyway. I can always come up with some excuse.”

  A brief rap sounded at the door seconds before it opened. As though she’d conjured him up, Matthew Kemp stood in the doorway, along with his equally well-built partner, Clint Gates. Both men had changed into street clothes, showing off their muscular bodies in jeans and T-shirts. Neither one held a candle to Roman, though they were younger and obviously hit the gym on a daily basis. Somehow Roman in a three-piece suit was the height of sexiness to her. She needed to retrain her libido to focus on younger men. Absolutely no one over thirty. Any lover she took from now on would also have to be easy on the eyes—and without a brain in his head.

  Unlike Mr. Kemp. Nobody joined the Secret Service on looks alone.

  “Hello, Special Agent. What can I do for you today?” Besides steal your phone and illegally search your room and pray you don’t find out?

  He sent her a truly sexy smile as he strode into the room. “You and the gorgeous Ms. Matthews can grace us with your presence tonight. We enjoyed talking to you two last night.”

  How could she say no when that might give her another shot at his phone? “Well, we’ve been asked to stay in this evening.”

  Clint backed his partner up. “We know. We’re supposed to keep a quiet watch on you, make sure you don’t get into any trouble. It’s like asking the fox to watch the henhouse, really. Look, ladies, we’re not trying to get you into trouble. We simply want to spend a little more time with you.” He looked Liz’s way. “Unless I misunderstand, and whatever is between you and the president is serious. Then I’ll back off.”

  She watched Liz shake off her sorrow as she stood with a smile. “There’s nothing at all between me and the president except the fact that he’s my boss. So if we can’t leave, what do you two suggest?”

  “Well, we brought in some dinner. A guy from the PM’s detail gave us a tip about the best takeout in London. We’ve got it set up in the kitchen, so it’s informal,” Matthew explained. “We might have also gotten some beer and wine and requested to use the theater room. We scored an early copy of that new spy film all the girls are crazy about.”

  Liz squealed a little. “Love After Death? I read that book a hundred times. I’m so excited to see the movie. It’s the new Fifty Shades. I think we can make this work, gentlemen.” She sent Gus a wink. “There’s a brief call with a small newspaper here in Ohio I need Gus to take in about an hour. But I’ll make sure you guys aren’t too bored while she’s gone. Other than that, we’re all yours.”

  Stroke of brilliance. Liz could keep the boys occupied while Gus wandered up and searched the room Matthew shared with Clint. It was the perfect cover. Liz was always on her phone. If something started going sideways, she would send Gus a 911, advising her to hightail it out of there.

  “What do you think?” Liz was smiling her way but Gus saw the challenge in her eyes.

  The woman knew exactly what she was doing and she was a perfect partner in crime. Gus gave Matthew the once-over. He was a gorgeous hunk. Too bad he might have killed her best friend. “I think that sounds lovely. When do you want to start?”

  Matthew held a hand out to her. “No time like the present.”

  She gave him a wide, totally fake smile and let him lead her out of the office, more than ready to start her real work.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Gus stood up and stretched. “Time for my press call. Don’t pause the movie. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Matthew looked up at her, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve actually already seen it. I was invited to the premiere. It’s so good. There’s a scene in the elevator coming up that’s hysterical. Be back soon.”

  Liz looked over from the screen and winked. She had her phone by her side.

  They’d come up with a protocol. If Matthew left the room, Liz would text a single emoji to let Gus know he was on the loose. Gus would then hightail it out of his room and run as fast as she could back to the theater. It would be okay. She wouldn’t get caught and she would have at least a few solid minutes alone in his room.

  It wasn’t as good as downloading his phone, but she had to try something. She needed information, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Gus picked up the pace the minute she left the theater room, finding the stairs and rushing down one flight, followed by another until she reached the basement where the servants’ quarters were. Lara had been quite vocal when she’d discovered there was a whole floor nowhere near as lovely as the rest of the manor merely housing the help. Luckily, everyone was out on the town this evening, so the actual servants had the night off. The remaining people—the security staff—were concentrated outside the building.

  Gus knew this was her one shot. She wouldn’t get another.

  The floor beneath her squeaked. Wincing, she paused, hearing the house moan again. Was that sound a door opening?

  She shook off the worry. Time was limited, so she forced herself forward once more. If she got caught, she had an easy lie on the tip of her tongue: she’d gotten lost after receiving a text from one of her staffers who needed to find a working printer. Since the one in the office wasn’t functioning, she’d had to go looking for another. Actually, that wasn’t a total prevarication. The printer in the office truly wasn’t working. She’d loosened a cord personally before they’d gone to the kitchen for dinner. If she got caught, she would bat her eyes at Matthew or Clint and ask them to fix the infernal machine for her. When they discovered the dangling cord, she would laugh at herself and pretend embarrassment with her abysmal technological shortcomings. They would believe it because they were men and she had boobs.

  The ploy would work.

  Her heart fluttered with every creep forward. She would have been an awful spy.

  As quietly as she could, she turned the handle on the door to the room Matthew shared with Clint and entered, thanking whatever higher power deserved credit for the miracle of having a door without a lock. She waited until she quietly eased the door closed to turn on the light.

  The room was Spartan. Nothing but two twin beds, matching nightstands, a dresser, and a mirror.

  There was a small notebook and pen on the nightstand. She picked it up, flipping through it, but all it seemed to have was a list of names. Darcy Hildebrandt was the first name on the list, along with a few others. She pulled out her phone. It was likely nothing more than a list of people who would be in and out of the house while the president was in town, but Gus didn’t recognize some of the names. She took a picture of the list and thumbed through the rest of the notebook.

  The agent liked to doodle and he was fairly good at it. There was a sketch of Marine One, the helicopter that took the president to the airport. She flipped another page. The president was frowning, his brows furrowed, and a caption under him. No white socks with your suit, Matthew. Are we barbarians?

  She smothered a giggle.

  There was a sketch of herself and Liz in the White House pressroom. Instead of their normal designer business suits, he’d drawn them as superheroes, with skimpy costumes and knee-high boots. It might have been insulting if not for the caption. Badass Bitches are the Best.

  Men. Even when they were complimenting a girl, they were looking at her boobs. With a little smile, she flipped the page.

  When she caught sight of the next image, her entire body went cold.

  Maddox Crawford. He was wearing jeans and a collared shirt, and he was standing by his airplane, giving the artist the thumbs-up sign.

  How long had Matthew stood there? Had he watched Mad go through his preflight check to make sure the bomb he’d place
d on the plane hadn’t been discovered? Had he hidden in the shadows and drawn the man he was about to murder?

  She closed the notebook and noticed a small pad of sticky notes by the phone. There were indentations, as though someone had written a note, the pressure of the pen leaving the details on the page beneath. She pulled off the top three and shoved them in her pocket.

  Where was his luggage? She opened the closet door, ready to go through anything she could find.

  How much time had passed? Four, maybe five minutes?

  The closet was divided into two sections, but oddly looked exactly the same. Four black suits and white dress shirts hung on either side. There were loafers below, again the same, though one set was slightly larger than the other. The standard Secret Service uniform.

  There was a duffel bag to her right that she thought she recognized as Matthew’s. She dropped to her knees, ready to rifle through it. Behind her, the bedroom door opened.

  Gus went stock-still and prayed she wasn’t discovered by someone who had no qualms about murder.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I had the loveliest evening,” Darcy said, leaning into Roman as the limo pulled into the drive. “Are you sure it has to end?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just because the president and Mimi lacked chemistry doesn’t mean our evening has to be over.”

  Zack snorted slightly, letting Roman know he’d heard Darcy’s murmured come-on.

  Roman doubted Zack had spoken more than three sentences to his date all night long. They’d already left Mimi at her townhouse earlier, after Zack sent her off with a very dispassionate good-bye. The woman had been stunningly beautiful, but his friend hadn’t noticed one whit. He’d spent the entire evening on his phone, texting back and forth with Thomas, the head of his detail, who was in touch with the agents left behind. He’d gotten real-time, moment-to-moment details of what Liz and Gus were doing with their evening. Once Zack had learned their women were having an intimate meal in the kitchen with the same agents they’d spent the previous evening with, he’d decided to cut the evening with his supermodel short. Roman seconded the decision. Kemp and Gates were hunky…and younger. They hadn’t tried to control the women’s comings and goings without any real explanation why. Gus and Liz didn’t think those guys were assholes.

  In fact, right this minute Gus was probably cozied up with Matthew Kemp, whom she’d likely never fought with—or stared at with that expression of horrified heartbreak twisting her face.

  Roman didn’t know why she’d looked at him that way last night, but it had felt like a punch to the gut. Gus had been out of her head when she’d turned on him. He’d seen her eyes. Fear, followed by utter despair, had lurked there.

  What had been racing through her mind? Mere moments earlier she’d told him she didn’t blame him for her fall that fateful, long-ago night, but something had happened. Roman knew it. But he had no idea what Gus had endured in the years they’d been apart.

  In the years since he’d abandoned her.

  He’d bet Mad had known. It boiled Roman’s blood as much as it hurt. Worse, he had no one to blame but himself.

  “Roman?” Darcy prompted.

  “The president and I need to confer about tomorrow’s conversation with the prime minister,” he said finally.

  They didn’t. They were as prepped for this meeting as they could possibly be. Reaffirmation of NATO ties. Check. Delicate conversation about a new trade deal after Brexit. Check. Pushing a pipeline that could make America a mega shit ton of cash and stick it to Russia? Check and high-five. But he would do or say almost anything to wrap up this date now.

  Because while Darcy Hildebrandt was sweet and polite in most everyone’s view, with him she’d shown that she possessed at least ten hands, all of which she liked to put in places that violated his modesty. She’d been surprisingly aggressive, and he’d tried a hundred subtle ways to suggest she back off. She wasn’t getting the clue, and he wasn’t sure how else to handle her. He’d never bothered to develop more than a trick or two to ward off overeager women.

  But Roman also knew he had to be diplomatic. Darcy worked for the prime minister. Zack needed these talks to go well. They encompassed some of his most important negotiations, but Roman wasn’t willing to sleep with Darcy to ensure their success.

  Funny, his younger self would have looked at the woman’s graceful curves and pert breasts and said what the hell. Today, he only wanted to be intimate with Gus.

  For a while, it seemed she’d wanted sex with him, too. If he thought it would work, he’d sic Gus on Darcy. Except Gus would flip him off and tell him she couldn’t care less if he was molested by a five-foot-nothing attaché to the British prime minister. But after the way things ended between them last night, she would likely hand him over to Darcy on a silver platter and turn her attention to fucking Matthew Kemp again.

  Darcy slid one of her many hands up his arm. “I could help you with that. I know the agenda backward and forward.”

  The waiting Secret Service agent stepped toward the car door to open it. Roman needed to make sure Darcy the ambidextrous didn’t follow him. “The president and I should talk about the meeting in private.”

  “But I really could help you.” Darcy leaned into him, plastering herself against his side. “With the prep, I mean. I’d be happy to assist if that sets your mind at ease—or help with anything else if it relaxes you enough to rest. Even if it takes all night.”

  “Do you think it’s proper for an attaché to the prime minister of England to advise the president of the United States on how to handle your own leader?” Zack challenged. “Because I think your boss will question your loyalty if you cross that line.”

  Darcy’s eyes went wide, like a frightened deer in some big-ass headlights. “Oh, no. Sir, I was only offering to have a little…fun.”

  Zack didn’t let up one second. “This isn’t a party, Ms. Hildebrandt. This is a serious negotiation so our countries can work effectively together. If the press found out you spent the night with my right-hand man, they would likely question where Roman’s loyalties lie as well, not to mention precisely which of his heads is doing the thinking. Their conclusion would probably be that he doesn’t care about serving the best interests of the American people. That opinion could extend to me, since they would also speculate very publicly that I don’t have control of my staff. Those optics are unacceptable. I need the press to see you heading home while Roman and I return together so there’s no question about anyone’s allegiance.”

  She hung onto his arm and sniffed. “With all due respect, I’m not hurting my country by establishing a friendly relationship with your chief of staff.”

  Roman tried hard not to roll his eyes. The woman clearly had more than a handshake in mind. And after being chastised by the president of the United States, he couldn’t believe that she seemed completely unfazed.

  He’d been wrong about Darcy. A complete idiot, in fact. She wasn’t sweet and polite. Whether she was genuinely hot for him or merely looking to climb the political ladder, she was up to something. “I appreciate that, but Zack and I really do need to have a private conversation. Our countries are friendly, but we all need to make sure there’s no appearance of collusion.”

  She pouted, her lower lip sticking out slightly. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Perhaps we can have lunch.”

  “I’ll check my schedule. I’m extremely busy for the next few days, but I’m sure I’ll see you at Number Ten,” Roman hedged, willing to say pretty much anything to put distance between himself and her at this point.

  So he could find out what Gus was doing and wrest her from Kemp’s company.

  The door opened to the sight of a man in a black suit. “Mr. President, welcome back.”

  Zack nodded his way. “You ready?”

  More than. “Yes, we should handle that issue we didn’t have the opportunity to finish discussing earlier.”

  “You’re right,” Zack agreed, knowing no such issue exis
ted. He turned to Darcy. “Good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The second the president left the car, Roman turned to Darcy. “Thanks for being a lovely escort. It was enjoyable.”

  That was a goddamn lie, but he managed a semblance of a smile her way just before he unfolded himself from the car.

  Darcy reached for him, but Roman was faster, intent on escaping little Miss Tentacles. He had no hesitation about where he was going next. Straight to wherever Augustine was. Maybe he could talk to her, get her to tell him what she’d been thinking or going through the night before.

  As the fresh evening air hit him, Roman was gratified to hear the car door shut in Darcy’s face. Then finally, he was breathing for the first time in hours.

  Zack moved in beside him. “So you get it now, huh? That woman is after you, and she’s only going to get more insistent until you explain to her that it isn’t happening. You have to be firm.”

  He put out a hand, holding off the lecture. “I get it. I’ll deal with her tomorrow. Let’s go and figure out what Liz is doing. You’ve been worried about her all night. We won’t be able to have a reasonable conversation until you’re assured.”

  Zack stopped, his brow raising. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Obviously, Roman wasn’t fooling anyone. There was nothing like the person who knew you best calling you out on your shit. “Fine. Let’s figure out what Gus is doing.”

  “That I can do. And if we figure out what Elizabeth is doing as well, then that’s what happens.” Zack started for the door.

  This would hardly be the first time he gave Zack’s attachment to his press secretary plausible deniability.

  Roman followed as the car took off, shuttling Darcy back to her apartment. “So they’re having dinner with Kemp and Gates? Maybe they were merely all in the kitchen at the same time.”