Secret Service Setup. Jessica R. Patch
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shot rang out, and the crowd went even more wild, like bulls bucking and stampeding from stalls. Screams resounded over one another. People trampled each other as law enforcement worked to clear the seats and keep order.
“Are you okay, Senator?” Evan was now flanked by other agents and law enforcement.
“Egg’s hatched,” Wilder called through his mic.
Good. The car was at the door.
The senator nodded—in shock—and kept his head ducked as Evan and his team retreated to the exit. Another agent cleared the door first, then signaled. Evan shoved Senator Townes inside and climbed in beside him as Jody pressed Mr. Wiseman into the other side and accompanied him, her mouth forming a grim line.
“You’ve been shot, Agent Novak,” Senator Townes said, eyes wide.
“I’m right as rain, sir. Let’s get you out of here.” Everyone was safe right now and that’s all that mattered. When they had a moment of privacy, he’d find out why Jody left her post. That wasn’t like her, and the fact that she’d left right before the shots unsettled him.
“Where are we going?” the senator asked.
“Covenant Crisis Management. The safe point we agreed on if anything went sideways,” Jody said.
Like this.
Jody discreetly covered her nose. Everyone’s adrenaline must be pumping out some powerful and unpleasant odors. He shaded his eyes with sunglasses, not from the sun so much as the chance to observe her unnoticed. Same golden hair, only much shorter—barely brushing her neck. A smattering of freckles across a petite nose and full lips dusted in an understated pink gloss. Tomboyish and feminine wrapped up in one exquisite package. His gut tightened and he looked away.
He had no right to think about her like this. Not anymore.
“Thank you for saving my life,” the senator said.
“You’re welcome.” Just doing his job. Evan glanced at his shoulder and frowned. If the podium hadn’t been there, he would have taken a severe hit. He slid his gaze to Jody again, this time observing her manner. Cool as a cucumber. On the outside. But her flicking at her middle fingernail gave away her anxiety, and she kept casting small glances to his shoulder. Was she concerned for him? If so, had she forgiven him for his greatest mistake?
Doubtful. If she had, she would have responded to the letter he’d written her, or called him, emailed, texted. But it had been radio silence for three years. Evan had been in a dark place long before that. The pressure of the job and all the pressures of his past he’d never dealt with had sent him spiraling into the same coping mechanism of the one person he promised himself he’d never be.
His father.
Now that he’d become a man of faith, he didn’t need alcohol to help him cope or to give him the strength for another day. God was Evan’s strength, but it didn’t change the truth that deep down the apple didn’t fall from the tree.
He wanted Jody’s forgiveness desperately, but he wouldn’t allow himself to dare ask for a second chance. He’d ruined the one great thing in his life, and he wouldn’t risk hurting her again. History told him he probably would. How many times had Dad said he was sorry for hurting one of them or drinking again or any number of painful things only to turn around after a while and repeat it, ripping Mom up emotionally like a rag toy?
Evan refused to inflict that kind of pain on Jody—for the second time.
“Have you received any threatening letters, Senator?” Jody asked as the SUV drove them to CCM.
“I get them every now and again. Mostly smoke blowing.” The senator pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I need to call my wife. By now this is all over the news.”
Strange his wife wasn’t here today. “Where is she?”
“Our son was in a car accident three days ago. He’s in the hospital. She didn’t want to leave him.” Remorse surfaced in his eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, either.”
Evan’s place wasn’t to judge or advise, so he remained quiet. They made their way down the long drive fringed with ancient oaks dripping with grayish Spanish moss until the looming historic plantation home came into view. Something straight out of Gone with the Wind. The columned porch made a perfect square around the entire home. Tall French windows lined the front—four on the top and bottom—shuttered in black. In the summer, Evan could imagine swinging them open to let in a summer breeze. Jody would enjoy the smell of lilac. It was her favorite...or it used to be.
Several white rockers decorated the top and bottom porches.
Two more black SUVs parked in the circular drive. Wilder Flynn bounded out and stomped inside.
“That’s never a good sign,” Jody mumbled and climbed out, but hesitated and then turned toward Evan. “You need to see about that wound, Evan.”
Evan.
He’d missed the sound of his name on her tongue. He choked back the emotion, the regret, the loss of a future with her. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
The inside of the plantation home was as impressive as the outside. A magnificent split staircase garnered immediate attention as the focal point while the parlor to the right invited guests to its sleek dining table. Gray couches were placed against each wall, and the fireplace at the end of the room roared and crackled. Perfect for this January weather. Above the mantel hung a painting of a startlingly lovely woman who shared Wilder’s green eyes, black hair and squared chin. The engraved plaque underneath read: In memory of Meghan Flynn. Ah, his sister who’d been murdered several years prior.
Wilder directed everyone inside the dining/conference room but laid a hand on Evan’s uninjured shoulder. “Hey, Cosette will fix you up. Guest bathroom with a first-aid kit is down the hall on the left of the foyer.”
He hadn’t offered Jody’s services to patch his graze. Evan understood Wilder’s need to look after his own—his kin. “Thanks.” He followed the dark-haired woman with ruby-red lips to the bathroom and let her clean his wound regardless of the awkward tension. Who knew what Jody had told her? Probably everything. Cosette finished up and tossed her latex gloves in the trash can.
“All done, Agent Novak.”
“Evan.”
“Agent Novak it is.” Her tone was made of steel and heat. “She’s my best friend.”
Fair enough. He excused himself to the dining/conference room. Coffee had been served and the senator sipped a cup and answered the same questions Evan and Jody had asked in the SUV. Afterward, Cosette discreetly offered Senator Townes and Mr. Wiseman guest rooms, where they could rest and call family while the agents with Evan and the CCM team, except one who was missing, stayed in the parlor.
“I don’t understand,” Wilder said. “That place was surrounded. How did someone get into the convention center with a rifle and not get dinged in Security?”
Beckett took a cup of coffee from a redhead and winked. “Professional. The senator’s website has a calendar of events six months in advance. He probably hid the weapon weeks ago. Walked right in today and bypassed the extra security.”
They continued to speculate and discuss the events over lunch, and then the missing team member—Shepherd Lightman—made his presence known, a scowl on his face. He motioned Wilder out of the room and a few minutes later they returned, both wearing grim expressions. “Could we speak privately with our team and Agent Novak?”
Evan nodded and the other Secret Service agents slipped from the room. Wilder closed the pocket doors. “Go ahead, Shepherd. Tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Evan’s pulse kicked up a notch.
Shepherd folded his arms across his chest. “I did some investigating of my own. Based on the trajectory path of the bullets, the shots fired—three in all—came from a vent