Radclyffe - Oath of Honor
her. What had Evyn asked? Oh, the “why a doctor?” question. She
almost gave a stock reply, but the intensity of Evyn’s gaze derailed her.
“Maybe I thought if I made a difference in someone else’s life, it would
make mine mean more.”
“Sounds like you got your wish, then. You’re about to have a
patient whose health affects the whole world.” Evyn paused. “Does
that make the job harder?”
“No,” Wes said instantly. “If and when the time comes he’s my
patient—and hopefully that day never comes—I’ll be taking care of
Andrew Powell, not the president.”
“His office doesn’t intimidate you?”
“No, but Lucinda Washburn does,” Wes said, laughing.
“You and everyone else.” Evyn grinned.
“What about you? You said you always knew what you wanted to
do?” For a few seconds, Wes thought Evyn wouldn’t answer. Sometimes
Evyn’s face closed so quickly it was like watching shutters slam against
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a window in a storm. Then Evyn’s posture relaxed and she smiled, and
the shutters opened once again and sunlight streamed through. “Well,
come on. In my family? Like there was really anything else to consider.
Don’t we all want to grow up like our heroes?”
“So who was yours?”
“Oh, my father, no question. He’s big and blustery and solid and
brave. I didn’t get to be big, but I hope…” Even in the dim candlelight,
her blush was apparent. “Never mind.”
“You hope you’re solid and brave?”
“Geez, forget I said that, will you?”
“I’ll pretend I’ve forgotten, if you’d like.”
“Okay,” Evyn said, blowing out a breath. “Change of subject.”
“Fair enough.”
“So…what about…besides your mother and grandmother and
sisters. Anyone else…close?”
“My grandmother passed on at the grand old age of ninety-six,”
Wes said, sorting through the obscure question and deciding Evyn was
asking whether she was single or not. While trying to formulate an
answer, she was saved by her phone signaling a text message. At this
hour, it had to be important. “Excuse me.”
She fished her phone out of her pocket and checked the message.
“Someone keeps late hours. I’ve just been informed by the duty officer
at the House to report at zero eight hundred tomorrow.”
“WST.”
“I’m sorry?” Wes shoved her phone back in her pocket.
“Washburn Standard Time. Which means pretty much any time.”
“Well, I guess I’m going to get the last of my security clearance
taken care of.”
“Formality. You wouldn’t be here if there was any question.” Evyn
rose. “I guess that’s our signal to get moving.”
“I suppose,” Wes said, rising with a twinge of regret. She shrugged
into her topcoat while Evyn sorted through bills and left money for the
bill on the table. Out of habit, Wes reached over, lifted Evyn’s black
raincoat from the hook beside their booth, and held it open for her.
Evyn hesitated, then turned and slid her arms into the coat.
“Thanks,” Evyn said.
“You’re welcome.”
Evyn turned, her eyes finding Wes’s. It was way too late to pretend
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they were just grabbing dinner, and with any other woman she wouldn’t
hesitate. But then Wes wasn’t like any other woman she’d ever met. She
should have kept her mouth shut, but words popped out. “Nightcap?”
Wes glanced left into the bar, mostly empty now, shortly before
closing. She was oddly not tired, even though she’d been on the move
for eighteen hours. She’d spent more time with Evyn than she had with
anyone in months and hadn’t even noticed the time passing. Maybe she
should take that as a sign. She shook her head. “I’d like to, but I’ve got
a really early morning tomorrow.”
Evyn smiled crookedly. Saved. She should take that as a sign.
“Yeah, me too.” She started walking toward the door. “Where are you
staying?”
Wes angled beside her, pushed the door open, and held it as Evyn
passed through. “The Marriott across town.”
“A hotel? You shouldn’t be staying in a hotel. O’Shaughnessy had
an apartment that came with the job.”
Wes smiled at Evyn’s indignation on her account. “I wasn’t
supposed to be here tonight at all, but Lucinda Washburn wanted me
on-site. So here I am.”
“Well, what she wants is law.”
“I gathered.” Wes fell into step as they walked toward the T-Bird
down the block. “I don’t usually get my orders at zero one hundred.”
Evyn laughed, opened the driver’s door, and slid in. Wes skirted
around the other side and settled in the passenger seat. “You’ll have to
get used to that.”
“The text orders, or the no-notice thing?” Wes clipped her seat belt
and stretched her legs out under the dash.
Evyn started the car and pulled out. “Both. When she wants
something done, it means now or five minutes ago.”
“Sounds like it’s pretty much twenty-four seven call. Feels like
being a resident again.”
“And here you thought you were getting this fancy title and a
cushy job,” Evyn teased.
Wes laughed. “I was hoping for a big corner office and a lot of
fanfare.”
“I’ll just bet.” Evyn glanced at her. “What were you really
expecting?”
“Truthfully? I don’t have a clue. Until a day and a half ago, I
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thought my next posting would be another academic position. All I
know about this one is that I’m going to get to see the world, just like
the recruiters always promised me.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Evyn snorted. “It’s a campaign year,
remember? You’re going to see so many cornfields and listen to so
many boring speeches you’re going to wish you were anywhere else
doing anything else.”
“Thanks for the inspirational speech. I can’t wait.”
“Sorry. I’ve been on the campaign trail in an election year. Prepare
to be perpetually tired, poorly fed, and probably verbally abused.”
“Got it. I imagine it’s pretty tense for you.”
“No more so than usual,” Evyn said flatly.
“Right.” Wes was getting used to the way Evyn deflected anything
personal. Obviously, the Secret Service never showed weakness. Or
maybe that was just Evyn. Wes wondered just how much that shield of
invulnerability cost her and if she ever let down her defenses.
Evyn slowed at an intersection, turned right, and looked over at
Wes. “It’s tough, but exhilarating too, you know? Being right there.
Being part of something big.”
“I think I understand. I’m used to being behind the scenes.
Observing.”
“That’s all about to change, Captain.”
Wes stared at Evyn’s profile, aglow in the moonlight. “I think it
already has.”
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chapter seven
Here you go,” Evyn said, lifting Wes’s overnight bag out of
the trunk.
“Thanks.” Wes took it from her and slung the strap over her
right shoulder. The T-Bird idled in the turnaround of the Marriott. The
marquee lights over the entrance had been dimmed, leaving them in
fractured shadow. The sliding glass doors behind them whooshed open,
and a voice called, “Need help with bags?”
“I’ve got it, thanks,” Wes said without turning around. Evyn stood
a foot away, one hand resting on the edge of the open trunk lid. Wes
searched for something more to say, but she didn’t know where to start.
The last few hours had been different than any time she’d ever spent with
anyone. She’d had hundreds of meals with colleagues, in the hospital,
on board ship, in the field. When those conversations ended, she moved
on, rarely giving the oft-times pleasant but superficial encounters
another thought. But she didn’t want this evening to end. Her reaction
was so foreign she couldn’t sort out wishes from reality. How could she
be uncomfortable and feel so energized at the same time?
She wasn’t a spontaneous person—she was a planner, always
prepared for any contingency, always following the most efficient
path. She’d always known what she needed to do to achieve her goals.
She’d learned from watching her mother deal with challenges head-
on, working hard, never bowing before adversity or buckling under
seemingly insurmountable odds. As long as she could remember, she’d
looked forward, she’d worked toward the future. She didn’t have a
lot of practice living in the moment. “Thanks for the ride. And the…
dinner.”
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“No problem.” No subtle suggestion as to what came next
resonated in Evyn’s tone, but her gaze never strayed from Wes’s.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Wes said, still not moving. Evyn
hadn’t moved either. Wes’s skin tingled as if charged with current ready
to snap. There was more—a next move she couldn’t grasp, words just
out of reach. Her nerves vibrated at the sensation of a bubble closing
down around them, isolating them, a fragile gossamer barrier that held
them suspended in their own world. She wondered if she turned and
walked away if the bubble would burst and they would never again
share an unguarded moment. She didn’t want that to happen. She didn’t
have any choice. Tomorrow, everything would change. She had no
choice but to fall back on what had always worked, on the one thing
she could depend upon. Doing her duty, fulfilling her obligations. “I’ll
report to you after my interview.”
“Unless POTUS goes off schedule, I’ll be in the command center.
Text me. I’ll find you.”
“Yes, I’ll do that.” Wes backed up and the shimmering enclosure
shattered. Evyn slammed the trunk closed. They were agent and doctor
again. “Good night.”
“’Night,” Evyn called, walking around to the driver’s door. She
slid in without another glance.
Wes turned and walked toward the waiting bellman.
“You have that, Captain?” the bellman said, pointing to her bag.
“Yes,” Wes replied as the sound of the T-Bird’s powerful engine
faded behind her. “Everything’s under control.”
v
Evyn made quick time through the nearly empty streets to I-495
and down to her condo in Alexandria, VA. She pulled into her slot in
the residents’ parking garage, grabbed her go bag, and took the stairs up
to her third-floor, one-bedroom unit. When she let herself in, she was
greeted with a plaintive and highly offended cry. “I haven’t been gone
that long, and I know you’re not starving, so you might as well forget
the theatrics.”
A sinuous gray shadow eased around the counter that separated the
big living room from the galley-style kitchen. Ricochet jumped up onto
the back of the sofa and proceeded to ignore her. She dropped her bag
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by the closet holding the stacked washer-dryer, passed behind the couch
on her way to the kitchen, and scooped up the cat. He didn’t like it when
she was away, but he liked attention too much to feign indifference and
immediately began to rumble, a rollicking purr that vibrated into her
chest. Absently, she rubbed her cheek against the top of his head and
pulled the refrigerator door open. She extracted a bottle of Turbo Dog,
popped the top on an old-style Coke bottle opener screwed to the wall
underneath the adjacent cabinet, and took a long swallow. She checked
the floor—his water and food bowls were full. She poked his lean belly.
“Definitely not starving.”
He kneaded her shoulder through her shirt as she ambled back
into the living area and flopped on the couch. She didn’t bother with
the lights—she knew her way around the place in the semi-darkness.
Propping her feet on the scarred and scraped oak coffee table she’d
been carting around since college, she stared out the glass balcony
doors and sipped her beer. Usually she watched a little aimless TV until
she unwound enough to fall asleep, but tonight she had something else
to occupy her—Wes Masters lingered in her mind.
“So,” she said to Ricochet, “I met the new chief medical officer
today. Very spit-and-polish shiny. Ought to be interesting to see how
she fits in at the House.” Ricochet curled up in a ball on her lap and
proceeded to lick his paws. She traced a finger around the back of each
ear and he continued to purr. “I’m supposed to bring her up to speed
on protocol.”
Ricochet paused in his washings, one paw elevated, and blinked
at her.“Yeah, yeah. I know. Not what I want to be doing.” Evyn set the
bottle on the wooden arm of the sofa and turned it slowly. Dinner had
probably been a mistake. She’d gone on impulse because she didn’t
have anything better to do, and after a long day of travel and intermittent
boredom, broken by moments of intense alertness, she’d still had energy
to burn. And Wes Masters was intriguing. Why was she here, who was
she really? Understandable curiosity there, and she never could pass up
a good mystery. But the going out to dinner with her? What was that
all about? She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone other than fellow PPD
agents in two years. She hadn’t had a dinner date, or a movie date, or any
other kind of date in a long time. She’d had encounters, conversations
in bars, a little bit of sex—enough to keep her from thinking about the
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fact that she didn’t really have a personal life—until tonight. Probably
not the smartest thing to do, sharing personal stuff before she’d had a
chance to assess her professionally. She should’ve said no.
“Why the hell did she even ask?” Evyn muttered. Ricochet didn’t
answer. “It’s not like we have anything in common, and chances are
we’re going to run into the old ‘whose responsibilities take precedence
