by Radclyffe
“So do you like her, or what?” Evyn said.
“Hmm? Ari? I suppose.” Like was an inadequate word for what she felt about her—curious, fascinated, impressed. Definitely impressed.
“Ari is it,” Evyn said softly. “You like her.”
Damn it, she could feel herself blushing. “Cut it out.”
“Wow.” Evyn’s eyes gleamed. “You really do. Is she…you know, available?”
Frowning, Oakes nodded to the security officer standing post at the elevators. “I don’t know. How the hell would I know that. And it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay,” Evyn said lightly, as if she meant something totally different. She gave a little wave. “See you at the push.”
“Right,” Oakes said, stepping into the elevator. Evyn’s grin was damned annoying. Probably too much to hope Ari was single. Hell, a woman like her—brains, looks, amazing personality. Just—hell. She had to get her head out of the vapor she’d somehow stumbled into and back in the game. The damn big game she was in.
She glanced at her phone, checking the time, as the elevator settled and the doors swished open. Considering traffic, she ought to make it to the guard post at the west entrance before Ari. She didn’t want her to have any trouble there and, just to be sure, picked up her pace.
She’d only been waiting a few minutes when a black SUV pulled up to the gate with Nika Witt at the wheel. That was a surprise but really shouldn’t have been. Witt couldn’t exactly guard her if she wasn’t with her. Oakes wondered if Ari enjoyed the personal attention. The idea curdled in her stomach. Nika said something to the uniformed Secret Service agent on duty as Oakes walked over.
“Morning, Sergeant Kovacs,” Oakes said.
The guard nodded. “Agent Weaver. Morning.”
“Do you have Ms. Rostof on your admit list?” Oakes asked.
“Just checking it now,” the officer said, swiping through a tablet.
The rear window rolled down, and Ari looked out. “Hi.”
Oakes’s stomach did a weird turn, the sour feeling giving way to excitement. “Morning. How did you sleep?”
As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. That was stupid and way too personal.
Ari didn’t seem to think so, though. She smiled. “A lot better than I expected. You?”
“Uh, good. Fine.” She wasn’t about to say she’d tossed and turned for a couple of hours, trying to unwind and failing, before she’d finally gotten out of bed, done twenty push-ups, until some of the jitters settled down. Then she’d slept a hard and dreamless sleep. She still wasn’t sure what had spiked the restlessness. Not like her at all. Yep. Not mentioning that. “Fine.”
“You’re clear to enter, Ms. Rostof,” the officer said. “But your driver isn’t, and you can’t bring the car in here anyhow. No parking authorization.”
Oakes added, “Leave your personal devices locked in here too. You’ll be issued secured electronics via your office.”
“Oh, right. Thank you.” Ari got out and passed her devices to Nika through the open window. “I’ll be inside all morning. You should…go do something touristy or something.”
Witt said, “Please text me as needed.”
The faint crease between Witt’s thick dark brows deepened. Not happy to be excluded. Oakes smiled. “She’ll be fine with us.”
Nika gave her a long look, eased the windows up, and drove away.
As they walked toward the West Wing entrance, Oakes said, “She’s not happy.”
“I really wouldn’t want to be her.” Ari sighed.
“That’s charitable of you,” Oakes said.
Ari laughed. “Not really. If she were less of a professional, she could spend her days doing something enjoyable, but I know damn well she’s going to be within a block of here all day waiting to hear from me. Probably at some Starbucks. That has got to be the most boring thing in the world.”
“Any protection service is a lot like that,” Oakes said. “A whole lot of standing around, a few minutes of moving from one place to the next, and then more of the same. If you’re lucky, that’s it. Nobody wants excitement in this line of work because it always means something bad.”
“And that’s okay?”
Oakes shrugged. “It’s the job. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine.”
“She was in my apartment last night,” Ari said quietly. She wasn’t even sure why she volunteered that information, but it bothered her, and…Oakes was a good listener.
Oakes let out a long whistle. “You mean when you weren’t there.”
Ari gave her a look. “Yes, of course. While we were having coffee.”
“So she was checking the place out.”
“That’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Not really. It’s her job.”
“She wasn’t going to tell me.”
“I don’t have any defense for her,” Oakes said slowly. “You’re not used to that sort of thing, and it must have seemed like an incredible invasion of privacy.”
“It was and it did. But?”
“At the risk of sounding lame, she was doing her job—the one your father hired her to do.”
Ari sighed as they went through yet another security checkpoint before entering the West Wing. “You’re right. I’ll get over it.”
“I’m not saying you should like it—or even get used to it. You didn’t ask for it, after all.”
“Maybe if I thought it was the least bit necessary, I wouldn’t mind so much.”
Oakes’s chest tightened. She didn’t even want to consider Ari might need protecting. “Give things a little time to settle down, and maybe you can convince your father you don’t need her.”
Ari squeezed Oakes’s arm. “Thanks. You’re right.”
Oakes sucked in a breath. Ari had already moved her hand, but every spot her fingers touched tingled. She swallowed around the dust in her throat. “You know where you’re going?”
Ari laughed. “No. But I bet someone can point me to the right place.”
“I’ll take you up.”
“You don’t have to. I know you’ve got your own job to do.”
She did, and she would do it. Just not right this minute. “I’ve got time.”
Ari smiled. “Then thank you. I owe you for this.”
“All right,” Oakes said, grinning at Ari’s surprised look. “Dinner?”
Laughing, Ari shook her head. “Why not. Can’t promise when, but I’ll call you, Agent Weaver.”
Oakes took that as a win. “Like I said. Anytime. I’m flexible.”
Way too soon, they reached the junction between the main hall and a suite of offices.
“This is it.”
“Thanks again,” Ari said.
“My pleasure.” Oakes smiled. “Besides, I scored a…” She almost said date and caught herself. Whoa. Talk about a close call. “Dinner.”
“You did,” Ari said with a warm glow in her eyes that could melt the polar ice cap. “I’ll find time—I just can’t promise when. You pick the place, my treat.”
Oakes wanted to say she’d be happy to wait as long as needed, but that wasn’t exactly true. She wanted it to happen yesterday. She took a breath. “That works. Good luck today.”
“Thanks,” Ari murmured as Oakes turned to head back. “Let’s hope luck is the last thing I need.”
Chapter Sixteen
Control Room, OEOB
Washington, DC
Oakes slid into an open seat at the conference table next to Evyn at a minute before seven. Evyn shot her a sidelong glance.
“Package delivered?”
“All set,” Oakes said, trying to sound casual. Funny, she didn’t feel casual or relaxed. She also didn’t feel the way she did before the morning push on a day when she didn’t have much to look forward to other than constructing every possible scenario where the president might be at risk and planning a counteroffensive. War games on an uncertain battleground against indistinguishable and unidentifiable adv
ersaries. Tasks guaranteed to give her a headache and night sweats, the closer they got to game day. But right at this moment, none of those sensations registered.
Oddly, her head buzzed and her stomach churned the way it often did when setting out on a tense trip with the principal. No reason for that now. No one was in danger, no one needed her protection, and no threat lurked just beyond her field of vision. None in physical form, at least. Something had her fight-or-flight hormones revving—or someone, she should say. And who was no damn mystery. Something about Ari Rostof triggered all her warning bells. Just being around Ari put her on guard, put her on edge, and stirred up the same deep-seated excitement that accompanied the possibility of danger. Ari ignited her sense of uncertainty in a way that felt primitively good. She felt the taunting challenge in the animal part of her brain—come out and play, and catch me if you can. The feeling was exhilarating and dumbfounding.
What the hell was becoming her go-to refrain to self.
“You with us, Weaver?” Tom Turner said.
Oakes jumped. A surreptitious glance at her phone lying on the tabletop showed 7:06. Where had she gone for five minutes? What had she missed?
“Present, sir.” Oakes hoped she sounded awake and alert.
“You get any sleep last night?”
Okay, maybe not. She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Every other agent in the room was looking at her curiously. As if sleep was something none of them needed except her.
“Plenty, thank you.”
“Then why don’t you bring us up to speed on what happened in Newport.” He didn’t sound disturbed—he sounded exactly as he always did. Calm, in control, and undeniably in charge. “The news briefing was more flash than substance, although impressive considering how quickly they got it together. I’m a lot more interested in what they didn’t show us on television, though.”
Oakes’s throat was dry. What was she supposed to say? That the news briefing went off so well because Ari Rostof was impressive? That she was hard to get out of her head once she came into focus? That she was beautiful and accomplished? Oakes didn’t think so. What was it he was actually looking for? Knowing the answer seemed critical, as if a misstep here would send her down a road she definitely did not want to tread. “From what I observed, the First Daughter presented the offer to take over for Adam, without going into detail why the position was open, and with no other explanation at all. After a brief deliberation and a few questions we’d anticipated regarding the upcoming convention, Rostof accepted. Likewise, straightforward and without any probative questions.”
“Took it all on face value?” Evyn asked, sounding a bit incredulous.
Oakes almost said more like on faith, but held it back. Ari trusted Blair Powell, that much had been clear, and where that trust had come from was something she’d like to know a lot more about. Not because anyone in this room needed to know—she couldn’t see how it was need-to-know information—but because she wanted to know more about Ari. “My impression was that Ari…Ms. Rostof…concluded that a visit from the president’s daughter to extend the offer personally was all the convincing she needed to say yes.”
“Patriotism?” Turner asked without a hint of sarcasm.
Oakes hesitated. “I couldn’t say, sir. Professionalism, for certain.”
Turner nodded. “What about Nikolai Rostof? What was his response?”
Pulse skittering, aware of the footing beneath starting to give way, Oakes replied, “I don’t know that there was one, at least, none that I witnessed. And none that impacted Ms. Rostov’s decision. She agreed without any consultation with him.”
“Interesting,” Turner said. “Well, then, for the time being, that avenue is closed.”
Oakes didn’t needed clarification. Nikolai Rostof was a highly recognizable figure on the political scene and a power broker whose source of power was closely guarded.
Across from her, an agent cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we keep an eye out for, ah, intrusion from that direction? Rostof—the daughter—is going to be exposed to a lot of key intelligence just by virtue of her access and proximity to POTUS. Considering her father’s connections, that could be compromising.”
Turner regarded him with the same cool expression he always wore. “We are not an investigative division, number one. Number two, Nikolai Rostof is an American citizen who is not under suspicion for anything, and if he was, again, we are not an investigative division. So, McMichael, the answer to your question is no.”
“Right, sorry,” McMichael said, obviously chagrined.
The slowly tightening rope of tension that had twisted around Oakes’s spine relaxed, and she eased back in her chair. If she’d been asked to spy on Ari, she wouldn’t have been able to do it. The idea sent her world spinning. She’d never encountered a situation where her duty was at odds with her personal interest. The very idea curdled her stomach.
What the hell? How had the personal even entered into this equation? She should have known Tom wouldn’t ask her to do that anyhow, but hearing him say it out loud helped settle the unrest in her midsection.
“Daniels, do you have anything on the follow-up to those reports out of Philadelphia about some kind of pattern they’re chasing that suggests a local cell?”
“Not yet,” Evyn said. “I contacted this investigator, JT Sloan, who basically said, in not so many words, they were tracking a hunch.”
Someone at the end of the table snorted. “Are they using psychics too?”
Evyn smiled, but she didn’t laugh. “This team of theirs has an impressive record, and a lot of it is propagated by Sloan’s cyberinvestigations. Apparently, she’s some kind of genius.”
“Yeah,” the same agent said, “but a hunch is still a hunch. Probably a waste of time.”
“Possibly,” Turner said, “but let’s keep an eye on those threads they’re pulling on.” He looked at Oakes. “And that brings us to the question of the day. Where do we stand on the advance?”
“Uh, I…” Oakes had meant to review the reports when she’d gotten in that morning and hadn’t had a chance to do that since she’d volunteered to escort Ari to her destination.
Evyn cut in before Oakes could offer a lame excuse. “Since Weaver was out of pocket all day yesterday and not due in until split shift, I pulled all the reports we currently have.”
Okay, Oakes thought, I owe her one as Evyn summarized where they stood in their planning.
“So,” Turner said, “we’re pretty much in the same place we were yesterday, with media and the itinerary still in the wind. And now we’ve got someone brand new in charge of that.”
“I did have a chance to review some of the basics with Ms. Rostov last night,” Oakes said. “I got the impression she hit the ground running this morning, so we should be getting some info soon.”
“Good, because we can’t afford any gaps or surprises down the road.” Turner rose. “All right, then, we’ve got the president in Atlanta in a week. Warren, Santos, are we ready?”
“Absolutely,” Warren, a petite redhead who made no secret she wanted to step into Turner’s shoes when he eventually retired or moved up, said briskly.
They’d all be on their way to Atlanta where the president was stumping for the party’s incumbent senator in a tight race. Oakes hated Atlanta. It was hot, buggy, and filled with right-wing nutcases. But what she liked or didn’t like didn’t matter. She’d be going.
As everyone rose and filed out, Evyn sidled up to Oakes. “Are you okay? You were sweating in there.”
“I’m fine.”
“There’s no problem, is there? With Rostof?”
“What?” Oakes took a second to cool the hot burst of defensive temper. This was Evyn, her friend and, technically, her superior. “No. None.”
“Good. So…when exactly did you have time to fill in Ari…oh, excuse me, Ms. Rostov…on some of the basics?” Her grin was infuriating.
“It was a long trip back.”
“Hey, didn’t yo
u fly military to Andrews?”
“Yes.”
“So you spent the flight debriefing?”
Oakes gave up. “No, I slept.”
“And then…”
“We spent an hour or so in a diner around the corner from Ari’s place. Just talking about…work.”
“And when were you going to tell me that part?”
“There isn’t any part to it.”
“You’re protesting a lot.”
“You’re bugging me more.”
Evyn laughed. “Okay. Whatever you say. Going home for a while?”
“Yeah, probably,” Oakes said, although she had some catching up to do on reports first. And she wasn’t tired. Wired was more like it. “Let me know what you hear from that Sloan person, huh?”
Suddenly serious, Evyn nodded. “I’m going to do a little bit more digging. I’ll let you know if there’s anything.”
“Thanks,” Oakes said. “The last thing we want is to be out of the loop.”
As Evyn nodded and walked away, Oakes considered the same was true with media. She needed to know what Ari was planning, and she could only hope nothing conflicted with the best interests of protecting the president.
Ari followed the corridor to a constellation of offices clustered around a central mini-lobby with a scattering of chairs and a few side tables. The carpet was a pleasing blue gray but otherwise industrial wall-to-wall. Must be where visitors, interns, and other staff waited to meet with the campaign staffers. The press secretary, who was responsible for getting out the message Ari and the president agreed on and coordinating meetings and interviews with the press, would have an office somewhere close. For Ari to keep the campaign on track, she’d need a press secretary who could finish her sentences. How in hell was that going to happen under these circumstances, in this amount of time? A question she couldn’t answer. She hesitated before the door with Adam Eisley’s name on it. It was closed.
“Ms. Rostof.” A slender woman in her late thirties, wearing a black skirt with an iron-gray silk shirt and short black heels, came out of a nearby office. She was probably quite beautiful, given her deep brown eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and full expressive mouth, when she wasn’t struggling with grief and exhaustion.