Cost of Honor

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Cost of Honor Page 20

by Radclyffe


  “Uh-huh. I’ll bet. Did you kiss her?”

  “Shut up, Daniels.”

  Evyn laughed and Oakes could imagine the know-it-all grin. “Yup, you kissed her.”

  Oakes smiled to herself. Yes, she’d kissed her. And she couldn’t wait for the next time.

  The message light was flashing on the bedside phone when Ari got into her room. She called down for the message and got transferred to voice mail.

  “You’re avoiding my texts,” her father said. “I’ll expect you for breakfast, say, seven in the hotel dining room? You should have plenty of time to make it to your eight o’clock meeting.”

  The message ended there, and Ari put the phone down. She didn’t have to think too hard to put the pieces together. Witt knew her schedule, and if Witt did, her father did too. Hell, he probably knew she’d been having a drink with Oakes not an hour earlier. Since Witt had the good sense not to follow them up in the elevator, he didn’t know about the kiss. She couldn’t imagine why that would matter, but a fierce protectiveness welled up in her when she considered that Oakes might come under any kind of pressure from or because of her father.

  She’d deal with that problem in the morning. For the moment, she planned on indulging herself in the memory of a very hot kiss. Smiling as she stripped and stepped into the shower, she pictured Oakes Weaver with one arm braced against the door, effectively caging her in. Not what she’d been looking for. Not what she’d expected, or expected to like.

  But oh, she had.

  Chapter Twenty

  After an agitated night fractured by the lingering unease from her father’s message and the distinctly different restlessness brought on by Oakes’s kiss, Ari rose, dressed, and went down to the hotel lobby in search of coffee well before her father’s appointed time to meet. Annoyed though she might be at the unexpected request—or more accurately, his demand—refusing was out of the question. He was there in the hotel, and he would be waiting at a table, probably having already ordered breakfast for both of them, at seven. Whatever he needed to say to her was important enough for him to make the trip in person, and despite her aggravation and resentment at having her movements not so subtly reported by her bodyguard, he was her father and she had no reason to avoid him. Pique was something she simply didn’t have time for.

  “Double espresso, please,” she said to the barista at the coffee kiosk at 6:02. Within moments, she knew, the kiosk would be crowded, and all she wanted was a few moments of quiet, alone in the corner, to read her email, enjoy her first caffeine jolt of the day, and mentally prepare for whatever the meeting with her father would bring.

  “Morning,” Oakes said from behind her.

  All thoughts of quietly reading her email flew from her mind as she reached for her coffee. She half turned, totally unprepared for the better-than-caffeine buzz the sight of Oakes provoked. She wore a crisp white shirt, tailored charcoal pants with a thin black belt, and black loafers. Nothing out of the ordinary, just typical business attire, but somehow she looked dashing, and Ari’s mind instantly envisioned the two of them having dinner together and afterward… Dragging her imagination well away from any images of after, Ari said, “Morning. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “As long as you promise to drink it with me.”

  “I have a bit of time,” Ari said, pleased her voice sounded casually friendly. “What’s your pleasure?”

  Oakes shrugged, her gaze traveling over Ari’s face before delving into her eyes. “As long as it’s strong and fresh, I’m there.”

  For no reason Ari could fathom, a ripple of anticipation coursed down her spine. Ari turned away, afraid she’d give away her flustered state if Oakes kept looking at her that way—all dark-eyed and intense and so annoyingly sure of herself. Women never looked at her that way, and she’d never stopped to wonder why not. Nor had she ever cared. How was she to know she’d like it so damn much?

  “Something else?” the barista asked.

  “Oh! Sorry, yes. Another of the same, please.”

  The barista nodded silently and Ari concentrated on making normal friendly conversation. She turned, determined not to fall into the trap of looking into Oakes’s eyes. A woman could get lost in there. “Are you on your way to work?”

  “Technically,” Oakes said, “I’m not due for another forty-five minutes or so. I usually wander over before the push.” At Ari’s questioning look, she added, “When the shift changes and everyone debriefs. Just to see what’s going on.”

  Ari signed the receipt and handed Oakes her coffee. Just as well—she didn’t need the distraction this morning. Email was much safer when she needed a clear head. Being around Oakes tended to make her lose track of…everything. Time, caution, good intentions. “Well, I won’t keep you.”

  “Oh, I really wish you would.” Oakes’s grin was maddeningly disarming, and just as pleasantly appealing. “And you did promise.”

  “Sorry?”

  “To drink your coffee with me if I let you treat.”

  “I did, didn’t I.” Ari surrendered. Damn it, she wanted a little more of the heady excitement spending time with Oakes inspired. “Well, I suppose I can spare you a few minutes.”

  Oakes’s grin widened. “Then it’s my lucky day.”

  Ari led the way to a small two-top in the corner as the line behind them grew. As she set her coffee down and pulled out the chair, her attention snagged on a woman in BDUs, laced-up black boots, and an ID hanging around her neck on a lanyard who entered the area with one of the most gorgeous dogs Ari had ever seen. She watched her as the woman stepped into line and the dog calmly settled by her left side.

  “Forget it,” Oakes said. “She’s taken.”

  Ari jerked her gaze to Oakes. “You might have mentioned that before now.”

  “No,” Oakes said with a laugh, “not by me. One of the reporters in the press crew. You probably met her—brunette, thirtyish. Vivian Elliot.”

  “Yes, I remember her.” The relief flooding through her was a bit of an embarrassment. Why she’d never considered that Oakes might be attached was completely unlike her. She couldn’t afford any kind of mental lapse these days, and she seemed off her game when it came to Oakes.

  Of course, Oakes might just as likely have no interest in attachment with her or anyone else. But then, neither did she.

  Did she?

  Of course not. Definitely not in her short-term or even long-term game plan. Who could think that far ahead, when she was constantly on the move following one politician after another on the campaign trail, state after state, month after month? She hadn’t even been able to eke out four days to herself to go sailing. A relationship? Out of the question.

  Oakes tilted her head. “There’s a lot going on in your head right now, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is. Did you think Dusty Nash was my type? She’s one of us, by the way. K9 division.”

  Ari laughed. “You have a type?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I suppose, but you can’t tell just by looking.”

  Oakes draped her arm over the back of her chair and leaned back, supremely at ease and annoyingly attractive. “Really?”

  “You know,” Ari said, pointing a finger, “I never noticed before, but you are supremely arrogant.”

  “Just now you figured that out.”

  “Mm. Not so much when it comes to talking about your work, but your love life—”

  The smugness left Oakes’s face and her fathomless blue gaze grew even deeper. “Is that what we’re talking about?”

  Damn it. Ari felt her cheeks redden. What was she doing? Love life? Really. “No, of course not.”

  “Okay,” Oakes said slowly, “since we’re not talking about romantic relationships, we must be talking about sex.”

  Ari straightened. “No, we most certainly are not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ari never played games. Well, actually, totally not true, at least professionally. She was a great games maven when
it came to politics, when it came to wrapping the truth in a message that worked for her purposes. She never fabricated, never lied, never made promises she didn’t intend to keep, but the truth came in a variety of colors, shades, and hues. She took advantage of a full palette to paint a picture with the intended effect on her audience. In her personal life, she was black and white. Or at least until this moment, she’d always considered herself to be. “Okay, enough.”

  Oakes surprised her, resting her hand on her wrist. “If I’ve offended you, I’m sorry.”

  “No, you haven’t at all. What you’ve done is…confuse me.”

  “Not my intention.”

  “I know. It’s me. I don’t totally understand what happens every time I talk to you.” Ari frowned. “See—right there.”

  “What happened?”

  “I blurt out things I have no intention of saying. That never happens to me. I don’t have feelings that are foreign to me, only…I do when I’m with you.”

  “Maybe,” Oakes said quietly, intently, the relentless focus in her eyes pinning Ari to the spot, “you just never noticed before.”

  “Maybe, but here are the facts,” Ari said, taking a breath and committing to what might very well be the craziest thing she’d ever done. “I find you incredibly attractive. I invited you back to my room last night because I wanted to have sex with you. And I’d really like to kiss you again.”

  “Before or after we have sex?”

  The line was delivered without the slightest smile, but Ari felt the laughter behind it. “Before, after, and during. Oh, and I fully expect dinner first. One date at least.”

  “Anything else that I should be aware of?” Oakes said. “Because I’m making a list.”

  “I want to hear more about that little café in the mountains.”

  Oakes blinked. There, she’d caught her off guard. Ari smiled inwardly. At least she wasn’t the only one not totally on top of her game here.

  “Really?” Oakes’s brow furrowed. “You don’t want to hear about what the president has for breakfast every day, or what he’s really like when he’s not on camera, or whether or not he has women coming into the White House through some secret tunnel instead?”

  “God, no. Do people actually ask you that?”

  “You’d be surprised how many dates I’ve been on where that’s the topic of conversation.”

  “No, I don’t want to know those things. I’m happy to hear whatever you want to tell me about what you do. If it’s important to you, then it would be important to me. But I’m not a voyeur at a distance.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “No,” Ari said, laughing. She’d never enjoyed a negotiation so much. Come to think of it, she’d never negotiated a date before.

  “My turn,” Oakes said quietly.

  Ari’s heart jumped around in her chest the way her sailboat rocked at its mooring during a gale. She thought for a second to reach out, grab the towline, strap it down, keep it from drifting into dangerous waters, but she didn’t. The little element of danger that fluttered through her was exciting. “All right. Do I need to take notes?”

  Oakes shook her head. “Just for the record, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since that first afternoon in Newport. When I got back to my room last night, I thought about it, imagined it. So I just wanted you to know tonight feels like a long, long way off.”

  Imagining Oakes thinking about them together brought heat to her throat. Ari swallowed around the desire following close behind. “Unfortunately, I have a full schedule.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Oakes stroked Ari’s bare arm. “But we have a date for tonight.”

  “Yes, we do,” Ari said thickly. God, she was going to need to take a walk to get this woman out of her head before she met with her father. Ari extricated her arm from beneath Oakes’s warm fingers. “I’m afraid I have an appointment in a few minutes.”

  “And I do too.”

  Oakes leaned closer, so close for a wild moment Ari thought she was about to kiss her. And she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

  “Just so you know,” Oakes murmured, “I’ll be thinking about kissing you all day while I’m standing in one spot doing pretty much nothing else.”

  “I’m delighted to provide a little amusement.” Ari forced herself to stand, gathered her shredded control, and walked away.

  Oakes’s laughter trailed behind her like a warm caress.

  Philadelphia

  6:40 a.m.

  “I’m not so sure I like you getting in with these people on your own,” Dell said, sitting on the side of the bed and pulling on her socks.

  Sandy finished with her mascara, closed the tube, and set it down along with her other makeup on the bathroom counter. She looked like she’d been up half the night, which she had, but that was not the point. That would never do. She added concealer under her eyes, decided she no longer looked half dead, and walked into the bedroom. “It’s fine. These are not drug dealers, who—I might mention—you deal with every night.”

  Frowning, Dell flipped the lock of dark hair off her forehead with a quick jerk of her head. “Yeah, but—”

  Sandy leaned down, gripped the hair at the back of Dell’s head, and pulled until Dell was looking up at her. She kissed her, smearing her damn lipstick, and not caring. “Don’t even say it. I’m a cop just like you. And just because you think you’re tougher doesn’t make it true.”

  “What I was going to say,” Dell said, her pupils wide and her voice husky, “was I’d feel better if you had backup closer than down the street in the car.”

  “Yeah, like you do when you’re out there alone on your bike. Double standard, Dell.”

  Dell slid her arms around Sandy’s waist. “I just love you.”

  Sandy smiled. “I know. And that’s why I’m here, despite the attitude, Rookie.”

  “Okay, point taken.”

  Dell let her go and Sandy strapped on her thigh holster beneath her short denim skirt.

  “What do you think about them,” Dell said, sliding her weapon holster onto her belt loop.

  Sandy though back on the night. The vibes were weird—like everyone knew each other but no one was really friends. No small talk, no flirting or usual party chatter. Matt, who she’d been careful not to call by name, moved from small group to small group and spoke in low tones about casual stuff that could pass as ordinary conversation, but she’d had the feeling he was asking for updates on something. What, she couldn’t tell. “I’m not sure. They’re not your usual bunch of privileged college kids, going on about the system and how it all needs to change, and never having a plan for anything.”

  “Actual activists, you mean,” Dell said.

  “Different.” Sandy chewed her lip, wishing she could pinpoint what bothered her so much about the general atmosphere. “They’re all a little paranoid. Like no one really wanted to talk to anyone else and they wouldn’t have been there except for Matt—that’s definitely his real name. He’s a relay point of some kind.”

  Dell narrowed her eyes. “Are they violent?”

  Sandy shrugged. “Hard to tell. For all I know they could be a bunch of computer hackers, planning to take on Google or Amazon or the damn Pentagon. No details that I could get, not yet anyways. But there’s something.”

  “And you’re in?”

  “Hard to tell. I connected with a few people. A girl and a couple of guys. Trish likes me, but I think that’s just because she doesn’t have a girlfriend to complain to about what a dickhead Matt is.”

  “Well,” Dell said, holding the door open for her, “now at least Sloan has an address, a license plate number, and part of a name. We’ll be able to get some background on them.”

  “Yep. And I’m pretty sure Trish will be contacting me again.” Sandy kissed her. “We can’t push too hard, but it would be good if you don’t worry.”

  Dell rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s gonna happen in the next century or so.”

  Sandy laughed and grab
bed her hand. “Come on, Rookie. Let’s go for a ride.”

  Atlanta Marriott

  6:55 a.m.

  Totally buzzed, not from the caffeine but the conversation, Oakes grabbed a couple of mochas, a latte, and a bag full of assorted pastries, and headed up to the tenth floor to their control center. The president would be staying on the ninth floor, and the eighth and seventh had already been cleared. Until he arrived, agents from the PPD as well as the Atlanta field office would rotate shifts to ensure no one accessed the off-limits areas. The advance agents had vetted any hotel employees who might deliver bedding or amenities prior to his arrival. Agents from the protective detail would oversee the president’s own food staff preparing any meals in the hotel kitchen for the president and his party.

  Balancing the drink tray and pastry bag, Oakes shouldered through the door into the rooms that had been connected for their use, and greeted the overnight and oncoming day shift agents gathered there.

  Evyn lounged on a sofa looking half asleep. She perked up when she saw Oakes. “Coffee. Doughnuts?”

  “Muffins, croissants, and…” Oakes dangled the bag in her direction. “Bavarian cream.”

  “I love you,” Evyn said. “Give.”

  One of the guys whistled. “Hey, what’s going on in that room you two are sharing?”

  Evyn smiled sweetly. “Let your imagination run wild, and it won’t even be close.”

  Several other agents hooted, and Oakes dropped onto the sofa next to Evyn. She fished out a cherry Danish and took a bite.

  “How’d you sleep?” Evyn said coyly. “Have nice dreams?”

  Oakes took her time swallowing and sipped her coffee. “Like a baby. Dreamless sleep.”

  “I’ll just bet.”

  “Wes give you a wake-up call like usual?” Oakes asked, hoping to divert Evyn’s curiosity.

  “Of course. That’s as much as I’ll probably hear from her until they all arrive,” Evyn said, referring to her wife, the White House physician. Wes always traveled with the president and remained within the kill zone whenever he was in public. She had to be that close to render lifesaving aid if he was ever injured. If Evyn was bothered by the danger, she didn’t show it.

 

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