Page 27 of Between Love and Honor

Moments or hours later, she wasn’t sure, the haze grew thinner and she was on the water. The sun was warm on her exposed skin and the breeze gently tousled her hair. She was sailing Ben’s little Sun Fish out in the middle of the bay. He was behind her. Quinn couldn’t see him, but she heard him.

“You’re doing great, Brit,” he encouraged her. “Don’t worry, I’m right here with you.”

The agitation seeped from her weary limbs replaced by pure joy. She was free. And she was with Ben. But then her head began to pound. She could see her parents standing on the shore waving to her. Except the closer she got to the sand, the further her mum and dad moved away. There was something she needed to tell them, but she couldn’t remember what. Panic seized her chest, she looked back hoping Ben would calm her.

But he wasn’t there.

Alexi Ronoff was behind her instead.

With a malevolent smile, Alexi draped the anchor around her neck, laughing as he pushed her overboard. A silent scream escaped her lips before she was swallowed up by the darkness again. She tried in vain to move her arms and legs, but the warm weight descended as before, instantly soothing her. Something soft brushed against her forehead. Ben’s voice was back, so close, but still unreachable.

It’s okay, Brit. I’ve got you. And I’m not going to let you go.

She let the warmth surround her as she settled into a deep slumber.

* * *

QUINN RAISED HER eyelids just far enough so she could assess her situation without appearing to be awake should someone be watching. Through the fringe of her eyelashes, she could make out a fabric canopy hanging above her. To her right were three windows, adorned in matching fabric draperies, but devoid of iron bars. Always a good sign.

She relaxed as she realized she wasn’t in a dank prison cell. Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t being held against her will. The sluggishness of her body told her she’d been drugged with something. She spied a secretary desk several feet beyond the end of the bed. Two upholstered chairs were placed on either side of the desk. Sitting in one of them was the pretty blonde Secret Service agent who’d accompanied Josslyn Benoit to dinner last night.

Obviously, the cotton in her head was as thick as the cotton lining her mouth because she was having a tough time recalling how she’d gotten from the dockside restaurant to wherever she was now. She closed her eyes and willed her memory to return. Images of Ben with his family and friends danced before her stirring up the now familiar yearning deep in her belly. It was quickly swallowed up by fear.

She needed to protect him.

Suddenly, it all came back to her. She’d gone back to Ben’s beautiful boat to retrieve the card before Alexi figured out where it was. But she was too late. Her heart began to pound as she realized her nightmare was real, he had tied the anchor to her and thrown her overboard. Gasping for air, she shot up to a sitting position.

“Easy.” The Secret Service agent murmured something into her sleeve as she jumped to her feet. “You’re safe here.”

She wanted to ask where exactly “here” was, but she was having trouble getting air into her lungs, much less forming words.

“Try a couple of deep breaths,” the agent urged. “The doctor is on his way.”

A door on the other end of the room opened. A middle-aged woman entered, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and, blessedly, a teakettle with saucers and cups.

“Well, good morning.” The woman bristled with efficiency as she set the tray on the bedside table. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake. I’m Terrie Bloodworth, the head housekeeper. I thought you might be getting thirsty by now. Agent Segar suggested a cup of tea might be just the thing for you.”

Ben was nearby.

And still watching out for her, apparently. The thought eased the tightness in her chest.

“Where is he?” she croaked.

“He was a little worse for wear after worrying about you all night,” Terrie explained. “I sent him downstairs to the Secret Service lounge for a shower and a rest. Not that he’ll heed my instructions about the latter.”

It suddenly dawned on Quinn where she was. “Wait.

Are you telling me I’m at the White House?” She quickly glanced around.

“This isn’t the Lincoln bedroom if that’s what you’re thinking,” the housekeeper said with a smile. “But, yes, Josslyn insisted you recover here rather than a hospital.”

Quinn rubbed her temple. Her memory remained fuzzy on all the details, but she was relieved Ben hadn’t come to any harm. Alexi remained out there looking for the micro card, however, which meant Ben was still in danger.

Her, too, if the Russian found out she was still alive.

Somehow, he’d figured her out. She needed to get that dashed thing before anyone else got hurt.

Or worse.

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