Page 72 of Love Me Knot

O’Reilly rests his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “Nobody. Knot only needs you.”

Commander O’Reilly withdraws to his office, and I return to the day’s training with a little more enthusiasm. Eight hours to Chelsea.

Four hours later, I’m on a Knot Corp. chopper flying toward the capitol, still in uniform. I never heard back from Bash, but he’ll hear plenty from me when I see him. The bastard has had plenty of time to send a simple message. I’m convinced he’s just messing with me.

I arrive at the Willard thirty minutes before showtime. I text Bash to let him know I’m here, figuring he’s too busy to answer a call. He answers within seconds this time. You’re on surveillance. Room 320.

Hoisting my bag over my shoulder, I trot up the stairs and knock on the door. Kai answers, holding a headphone speaker to his ear. He motions me toward a mobile command station and passes a spare headset toward me. “The show hasn’t started yet. Chelsea’s at a back table within sight of Sadie and Aaron.”

“Is she mic’d up?” I ask the men.

Bash answers, “Camera at the table, and she’s wearing a mic in her necklace.”

“Earpiece?”

“No. Just like Spain, we didn’t want to chance Harding seeing it.”

I hesitate to ask the next question. “Does Chelsea know I’m here?”

The answer is pretty much what I expect. “No.”

I don’t dwell on what that might mean. I take the empty chair between the two PMCs and focus on the four screens. Kai gestures to each one, walking me through the setup. “Sadie’s view is here. The empty view is the flower cam at Yeet’s table. Aaron’s camera will show us when Harding arrives. This one”_he points to the last screen_“is the camera Chelsea’s wearing.”

“Why is it so close to the tabletop?”

“It’s ah…” the man stammers. “We couldn’t place it any higher because of her dress. It’s kind of low-cut to catch Harding’s attention.”

I shake off the visual of her naked breasts and thoughts of someone else seeing them. Clearing my throat, I settle in to watch.

Harding eventually passes through the rich, dark-wood entrance, pausing to leer when he spots Chelsea. Beyond that, he behaves as a proper government official until a host arrives to escort them to their table.

My surveillance partners do not react well to this. That, paired with Aaron and Sadie’s worried updates, tells me this wasn’t part of the plan. As Chelsea and Harding leave the opulent bar, we lose all reliable views.

Sadie and Aaron abandon their post to join us since they can no longer observe the pair in person. Over the next-half hour, we listen to and watch Chelsea’s valiant effort to coax information from the sleazy politician.

Harding keeps looking almost directly at the camera low on Chelsea’s chest, perving at her boobs. After the tenth time, Bash clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Stand down, Lieutenant.”

I’m through listening when the bastard puts his hands on Chelsea. I get halfway upright when Aaron steps in to help Bastien restrain me. “Stop,” Bash whispers. “She won’t do it. Listen to her. Chelsea’s playing him beautifully. I think he’s close to letting the name slip. He’s already shared more than I thought he would.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Harding. I only care that Chelsea can look at herself in the mirror tomorrow.”

“I told you she won’t go through with it. You’re going to have to trust me.”

Though my whole body wants to tear this room apart, I sit back down and pull my headset back on. One of Harding’s hands disappears beneath the table, and my jaw clenches so tight I’m in danger of shattering my teeth.

After a few more seconds of not seeing Harding’s hands, I’m ready to have a stroke. Chelsea whispers, and I latch onto her voice. “I’m glad you found someone you could trust.”

Jackson

“Oh fuck.” Bash looks up at me, eyes wide. “Chelsea just used the code word. She wants out.”

I don’t need any further encouragement. I’m out of my seat and out the door in two seconds. Aaron slaps my chest on the way out, but I don’t acknowledge him.

Thankfully, I studied the layout of the hotel’s public areas with Birdie. I only get slightly turned around but quickly find the hallway and the right door from Chelsea’s camera feed.

I bust through into the private room to find one of Harding’s hands up Chelsea’s skirt and the other on her bare breast. “Get your filthy fucking hands off my wife!” I thunder.

“Jackson,” Chelsea gasps, yanking up the strap of her dress.

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