Page 34 of Between Love and Honor

“I’m sure you don’t believe me, but I’m glad you all are protective of him. So very glad.” Quinn somehow managed to get the words out despite a thick throat. “Griffin is right. I think it’s best if I wait upstairs for Ben to return.”

Agent Groesch nodded and Quinn followed her to the lift.

CHAPTER 8

STILL REELING FROM the conflicting emotions brought on by his encounter with Quinn, Ben didn’t bother to temper his frustration when he knocked on the front door of the Secretary of Homeland’s residence. A long moment later, Agent Caracas pulled the door open with a smirk.

Damn. He’d forgotten the idiot was on the secretary’s personal detail.

“No need to be so ferocious, Inspector Gadget. We hear you.”

“Stuff it, Caracas.” He shoved past him. “Where is she?”

“In the backyard, communing with nature.”

He was through the narrow row house in an instant.

When he emerged out onto the flagstone patio, the secretary didn’t bother looking up from the flowers she was dead-heading.

“Your urgent text interrupted a perfect Saturday morning, Agent Segar.”

He heard Caracas snort behind him, the unprofessional jerk.

“This needs to be discussed inside.”

No way was Ben going to cop to his mistake in front of Caracas, the service’s biggest gossip. Not only that, but he had no idea who might be on the other side of the privacy fence listening in with a Stingray. The secretary’s detail was supposed to be monitoring for those types of issues, but Caracas wasn’t known for taking those routine measures too seriously.

Secretary Lyle straightened at his words. He was relieved to see her drop the shears in the bucket beside her.

The family jewels were safe for now. She pulled off her gardening gloves and tossed them in the bucket as well.

“Very well, then,” she remarked when she trudged past him. “Inside it is.”

She led the way to her study, which was actually a secure, sound-proof room, outfitted for her to conduct business from home when necessary. Ben took great pleasure in shutting the door in Caracas’s face.

“I was actually going to send him for coffee,” she said with a cocked eyebrow. “He’ll remind me the task is way below his skill level, but I enjoy messing with his ego.”

He might have laughed had he not been so uptight right now. “You might want something stronger to drink.”

“I take it I have bigger problems than beetles in my garden?”

She removed the wide-brimmed hat covering her jet-black hair and tossed it on the sofa with a sigh. Green eyes collided with his and Ben was momentarily taken aback by the fortitude shining within them. They reminded him of another pair of strong-minded green eyes.

“Does this mean you’ve found something on Ronoff?” she asked.

“More like Ronoff found me. Or rather his son did.”

That got her attention. “Explain.”

“A trio of Russians tossed my sailboat last night. Video from the surrounding boats and the marina IDed one of them as Alexi Ronoff. He made no attempt to disguise himself.”

“How did they make the connection to you?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.”

She swiped at her brow as she plopped into her desk chair. “I assume their visit was timed while you were ashore and no one was hurt?”

“Actually, Ronoff took the opportunity to drown a woman.”

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