Slow Burn

by Roxie Noir

  I seriously have to get out of here, I think, and then I drift off to sleep again.

  This rally is pretty big, and Gabriel’s afraid that my stalker might be here, somewhere in the crowd, so we’re following a modified version of what he calls the Outdoor Gathering Action Plan, or OGAP. It turns out that Gabriel is very fond of acronyms, which he blames on his time in the military.

  “All right,” he says, ten minutes before the rally starts, crossing his arms. “Give it to me.”

  People are swirling around us, but I raise one eyebrow anyway. Gabriel frowns.

  “OGAP,” he says, all business.

  I clear my throat, because apparently, this is no time for flirting.

  “Exits throughout the hall, the usual places, with the exit signs,” I say. “If there’s a riot, get to the bus, which will have a guard and can be locked. If I get grabbed, fight back. If I’m being carried, go limp. If he’s got a weapon, do what he says to buy time.”

  Gabriel nods once, officially. Right now, he’s perfectly serious, completely professional, and not even checking me out a little. I’d almost be offended, but my life might depend on this, so it’s fine.

  “Active shooter?” he says.

  “Hit the ground, get behind something if I can,” I say. “When he’s apprehended, get to the bus.”

  The bus is bulletproof. My father’s had a few death threats over the years, though none were ever serious.

  “If we get separated?”

  “We meet at the stage door past the stairs.”

  “If I’m down?”

  A chill runs through me, but I ignore it.

  “Stay low, get to the bus.”

  Finally, Gabriel smiles at me, a sparkle in his eye. There’s a gap in the people rushing around, and for a few seconds, no one’s in earshot. He steps closer and suddenly he’s towering over me and my stomach flips, heat rushing through me.

  “And if you get lonely and want someone to make you shout his name?”

  I do my best not to smile and fail.

  “Why would I get lonely?” I murmur, looking up at him. “You’re perfectly good company, and you live in my back yard.”

  Good lord I want to kiss him, but the moment is over, people are walking by again, and he takes a step away from me, back to perfectly professional.

  “I think our bases are covered,” he says, nodding once.

  You can cover my bases if you want, I think, my pantyhose feeling extra warm and uncomfortable.

  Ruby, that doesn’t even mean anything.

  “Sounds good,” I agree, making myself look at his face, and not the way he fills out his suit. Which is well.

  “And don’t forget, I’m right here if anything happens,” he says, his voice dipping to a lower register. “Anything at all, I’ve got you.”

  I have the feeling he doesn’t just mean because I’m your bodyguard, but I don’t know what to say. Then we get called to prayer anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

  The rally isn’t interesting. It’s a whole bunch of people waving signs in the audience while I sit dutifully behind my father as he preaches about his good, wholesome American values and how great America is, how we need to get back to our real American moral center, etc.

  A couple months ago I actually listened once or twice, and I was kind of surprised when I realized that nearly everything he says at these rallies — everything that makes the crowd lose their minds — is basically meaningless. He never says what he means by a moral America, or what he’s gonna do to get us there. He just says it should exist and everyone loves him for it.

  So I do what I usually do: tune out and try not to ogle my bodyguard. Did I mention that he’s wearing a suit, and that he’s wearing the hell out of it? He is.

  After the speeches, my father takes questions. I’m half thinking about sitting on Gabriel’s lap as I take his tie off, half thinking about whether I could somehow use my mom’s Perfect Wife blog to somehow make enough money on the side to move out.

  And then I hear my name.

  “—has moved on and found someone new in her life already, is that true?”

  My heart slams into my throat, and I sit bolt upright in the second row. Why the hell is someone asking questions about me?

  Unless that’s him.

  At the exact same time, my father and I both glance to the side of the stage, where there’s a flurry of activity, just out of sight of the audience. The security guys are all rushing around, Gabriel pointing and telling them where to go. He’s clearly taken charge of the situation, and I take a deep breath, calming a little.

  My father turns back to the audience, folksy smile in his voice, his drawl suddenly exaggerated.

  “Now, y’all know I prefer to keep my family’s business private since they didn’t ask to be a part of this,” he says, politician smile wide as can be. “So all I’ll say is that my daughter Ruby is very happy, and may have some big news soon.”

  What?!

  For a split second I lose control of my face, and my mouth drops open. I don’t know what he’s talking about, unless he’s somehow known about Gabriel and me the whole time and is telling everyone, right now, except that doesn’t make any sense because I don’t know what news...

  Kyle. Obviously. Jesus, I’d nearly forgotten about Kyle but that has to be what my father means.

  He just told a crowd of people that he thinks I’m getting engaged soon, and he has to mean to Kyle.

  I think my own lungs are trying to strangle me, because sitting on that stage, perfect smile on my face, I can barely breathe. I feel like I’ve turned to stone or something, only I have to force myself not to rage-cry, and I don’t think stone ever does that.

  I hate him, I think, over and over again. I hate this. I hate him.

  And if he thinks I’m marrying Kyle, he’s as wrong as he’s ever been.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Gabriel

  I point at two security guys — Marcos and Nate, I think, but I’m not 100% on that — and start issuing commands.

  “You and you, go get him. Don’t make a fuss, just escort him out. You—” I sweep my hand across four more security guys, all standing around “—make sure he doesn’t leave. Watch the exits. Anything happens, de-escalate the situation to the best of your ability. He has a weapon, take him down.”

  They scatter. Ray, the Senator’s head of security, is already on the phone with the county police, and I look back at the stage, heart hammering.

  She’s there. She’s fine. She’s sitting bolt upright, her frozen smile nervous, but she’s fine.

  The guy who asked the question about Ruby goes to sit down, but the two security guys come up to him instead.

  Don’t fuck this up, I pray, glancing at the stage again.

  She’s still there. Still fine, though now she looks pissed. The security guys seem like they’re reasoning with the guy who asked the question, and I watch, every muscle tense, as he shakes his head, arguing with them.

  Don’t argue. Don’t make a scene. Just go.

  My gut’s telling me it’s not him, because my gut’s telling me that the bastard who’s stalking Ruby isn’t brave enough to actually get up and say her name out loud like this. But I’ve still got every intention of making sure that this guy isn’t him.

  I glance at the stage. I glance back at the security guys, and after a long moment, the guy finally shrugs and starts walking for the auditorium door. I take a deep breath of relief.

  No scene, no fuss, no dramatic takedown.

  Ray puts his phone in his pocket and nods at me once, curtly.

  “County Sheriff is sending somebody out to question him,” he says. “Want me to go babysit and you stay with her?”

  “Sounds good,” I tell him, my voice clipped. “Keep me updated.”

  There’s no fucking way I’m gonna do anything but stay here, Ruby firmly in my sights, where I can protect her. Other people can interrogate the guy who asked the weird question.


  My breathing slows. My heartbeat slows. Ruby’s still sitting in her folding chair on the stage, and she’s got her fake smile on again, though her back is still perfectly straight. I half watch her and half scan the audience, the catwalks above, the exit doors.

  I’m on high alert, since I’m more than aware that distractions are dangerous, and even more dangerous if we think we’ve caught the guy, but nothing else happens in the auditorium. Audience members ask more boring questions about taxes, the Senator answers, walking back and forth across the stage, Ruby smiles, jaw tight.

  It feels like forever, but at last they finish. The Senator walks offstage and straight for me, followed closely by his wife and Ruby.

  “Update,” he says through clenched teeth.

  I tell him everything that just happened: the guy is being questioned, the County Sheriff is here, the perimeter is being patrolled in case he’s got an accomplice. I keep talking, telling the Senator more and more minor details until his face has gone from purple to red to tan again, the knots in his jaw worked out.

  I learned early in my Secret Service career that it can be valuable to talk until someone’s no longer furious. If the Senator walks in there and punches a perfectly innocent man who asked a nosy question, that’s not good for anyone.

  “I want him in custody,” he growls at me. “Not just being questioned. In custody. I want this on the record. I want him strung up and made an example of, by God.”

  “Jim,” Mrs. Burgess says.

  He exhales hard, through his nostrils. On his other side, Ruby’s practically glaring a hole through him.

  “Sorry, Edith,” he says. “Gabriel, thank you. I’m going to go check in with Ray. Ruby, I think it’s best if you stay here with Gabriel.”

  With that, he and his wife walk away and I’m standing there with Ruby, people drifting by.

  She’s furious, her eyes bright and her jaw clenched tight, just like her father’s was. Ruby doesn’t even look at me, just glares at a spot in a curtain somewhere behind my head.

  “Ruby,” I murmur, and she looks at me. Then she looks away. She takes a deep breath.

  “I can’t,” she says, and starts walking.

  She shoves her way through curtains, through an exit door, into a dusty, unused hallway, and I follow her every step.

  As she walks down the hall, I hear her gasp strangely. She’s crying, walking so fast she’s practically running down this hall.

  “Ruby,” I call out as she shoves her way through a door that says WOMEN.

  I hesitate for a second, then follow her, hoping there’s no one else inside.

  It’s a dressing room, and she’s leaning against the wall in the narrow entrance hallway, eyes closed, chest heaving like she’s trying desperately not to cry.

  We’re alone. Thank fucking God, for once we’re alone, so I wrap her in my arms and hold her close.

  “We got the guy,” I tell her. “The Sheriff is here, and they’re taking him into custody and questioning him right now.”

  She takes another long, shuddering, deep breath, then clears her throat.

  “He just told thousands of people that I’m going to marry Kyle,” she says.

  I’m startled speechless. That must have happened when I was issuing commands instead of paying attention to what was on stage.

  “He did?” is all I can say.

  Ruby pulls back, leaning against the wall. Even though her eyes are still glassy, she’s not actually crying yet, and she snorts.

  “‘Ruby’s gonna have big news soon’ sure doesn’t mean I’ll be heading off to college,” she says, her voice bitter and sarcastic.

  I completely missed that aspect of all this, totally focused on getting the guy, making sure he didn’t escape.

  “This is what he does,” she says, her voice quiet and steely. “He thinks that he can control everything, he thinks he can tell people what they’re going to do. He thinks he has the final say in everything, in all of our lives, that if he just says you’re gonna marry Kyle then it’ll come true through sheer force of will.”

  She takes another deep breath.

  “And I am fucking tired of it,” she whispers. “I’m tired of being told what to do, where to go. Who to marry. I’m tired of fucking pantyhose and being watched all the time and having to keep fucking sweet and take pictures of jam and never getting to choose what I do or where I go and goddamn everything. I’m tired of goddamn everything.”

  She leans her head back against the wall and her green eyes look at me defiantly, sparking in the low light.

  “You’re not gonna offer to rescue me again?” she asks, her voice still tight, though there’s a strange, new note in it.

  “I didn’t offer to rescue you,” I say, stepping closer. “I said I’d help you. I know better than to think you need rescuing.”

  Ruby reaches out and takes my tie in one hand, her eyes flicking up to mine. There’s something unreadable and intense in the way she looks at me, something almost dangerous, and I hold my breath.

  “Good,” she says, running her fingers down my tie. “I’m glad someone doesn’t think I’m a helpless damsel.”

  She pulls on my tie a little, and I put one hand on the wall over her shoulder. I have no idea where this is going, whether she’s angry or seducing me or both or neither, but I am pretty sure this can’t be a good idea.

  “I don’t think a helpless damsel would get through what you did and still be this feisty,” I say, and she smirks.

  “Feisty,” she murmurs, half to herself. “I like it.”

  Ruby yanks hard on my tie, jerking me forward and crushing her lips against mine. I still don’t know what’s happening, but she grabs my belt and pulls me forward until I’m pressed against her, the wall against her back.

  She bites my bottom lip as I pull away, and I swear to God she growls as she does.

  I’m hard already, so fucking hard, every nerve in my body alive and electric because I think she’s angry-seducing me and lord almighty do I like it.

  But I clear my throat and take a deep breath.

  “They’re gonna notice we’re gone soon,” I say. “If they didn’t already.”

  “I don’t care,” she says, and pulls on me again, but I resist her.

  “Ruby,” I whisper.

  With her other hand, she reaches out and hits the lights, plunging us and this dressing room into total darkness. Suddenly every touch is intensified, and I can feel the body heat pulsing off her, every breath she takes, every movement of her hips.

  Shit.

  “There’s one thing in my life right now that I chose,” she says, her voice low and intense. “Everything else gets decided for me, but I show up at your door every night because I want to.”

  Her hand trails down my chest, and I slide a hand around her back, digging my fingers in.

  “And right now, I could really stand to do something because I want to, not because I was told to,” Ruby whispers.

  Now she’s got both hands on my belt, our hips pressed together. I’m hard as fuck and I know she knows this is working.

  Get caught and you’re never going back to DC, I remind myself. This is already fucking dangerous, but if the Senator knows that you’re...

  As I’m thinking that, I realize something.

  I don’t fucking care.

  I kiss Ruby again, harder this time, and she pulls at my belt and wraps a hand around the back of my head, our tongues tangling together as she bumps against the wall, her back arched.

  She undoes my belt, unzips my pants, and a second later, she’s got her fist around my cock as I pull her against me, forcing myself not to groan.

  “You’re a very bad influence,” I whisper into her ear.

  Her fist tightens, and I gasp.

  “I’m not sorry,” she whispers back.

  I kiss her neck and slide one hand up her leg, my fingers practically whistling against the nylon of her pantyhose as she groans quietly and pushes her hips against me.
>
  I want her. Holy fuck do I want her, here in the dark where everything feels urgent and desperate and almost cataclysmic.

  Ruby puts her arms over my shoulders, I grab her ass, and then I hoist her into the air as she wraps her legs around me, cock nestled against her heat as her skirt folds over her hips. She writhes against the wall and we kiss, so hard that her teeth are on my lips as her tongue’s in my mouth.

  I punch one thumb through her pantyhose, and in a second the hole widens and I shove her soaked panties aside, stroking her lips. My thumb finds her clit and I slide two fingers inside her, the muscles of her channel clenching around me as I crook them into her most sensitive spot, the one that makes her eyes flutter closed.

  “Gabriel,” she whispers.

  Jesus.

  “I wish I could resist you just a little,” I murmur into her neck, moving my fingers inside her as she grabs my hair in one fist, gasping against my ear. “But I try, and next thing I know you’re up against a wall and wet as hell.”

  “That’s your fault,” she whispers, closing one hand around my cock.

  Ruby wriggles against the wall, and I pull my hand out of her. My eyes have adjusted enough that now we can barely see each other, her eyes two deep pools inches in front of my face.

  As she watches me, I lick my fingers off and her eyes widen.

  I grin at her, sucking her juices from my fingertips, and she looks faintly horrified.

  “You just seduced me into fucking you against a wall at the Hartley County Convention Center,” I growl. “You don’t get to look shocked when I lick you off my fingers.”

  I grab her ass again, holding her up, and kiss her hard.

  “See?” I whisper. “You’re fucking delicious.”

  She strokes me in her fist, nudging the head of my cock against her entrance.

  I take a deep breath and pull back.

  “I don’t have a condom,” I say.

  “It’s okay,” she murmurs.