Page 1 of No Questions Asked

Chapter One

Lexi

There’s been a long-running debate in Geekdom as to the geekiest president of the United States. Is it Abraham Lincoln, known for his tall, gangly appearance and awkward social skills, yet possessing a brilliant mind and the ability to sway people to his point of view? Or perhaps John Quincy Adams, whose legal theories and philosophical musings are so complex that scholars today are still trying to figure them out. Others say it should be Woodrow Wilson, the only president to have ever earned a doctorate. My fiancé, Slash, however, insists the significance of Thomas Jefferson’s scientific and agricultural discoveries make him the geekiest.

In my opinion, it’s definitely Lincoln. I mean, the guy had an eidetic memory, giving him instant recall on a huge number of facts, and he also managed to keep the country together during a civil war. Plus, we tall, gangly people with photographic memories and awkward social skills have to stick together. So, it’s unfortunate that Slash refuses to be brought around to my point of view. It’s turned out to be such an intense debate between us—two geeks arguing about presidential geeks—that it’s already resulted in a twenty-four-hour cooling-off period where we barely spoke to each other.

It may seem like a strange argument, but we can be stubborn, and perhaps a bit obsessive, when it comes to our beliefs. It’s a geek thing.

My name is Lexi Carmichael and I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman working in the largely male-dominated field of information technology. I’m a former employee of the National Security Agency, but now work for a private, cutting-edge cyber-intelligence firm called X-Corp in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. I double-majored in mathematics and computer science at Georgetown University with a specialty in cybersecurity. I’m a hacker, gamer, coder, book nerd and fangirl. I’m in love with a man who’s a seriously good-looking Italian-American, a hacking wizard, and all-around good guy despite his misguided belief that Thomas Jefferson is the geekiest president. It’s something I’m willing to overlook because other than that, he’s been a great boyfriend, and his Italian grandmother, Nonna, is the best cook I’ve ever met. That combination ensures I’ll be both happy and well fed for the rest of my life. How could anyone pass that up?

I had the memory of our fight over U.S. presidents on my mind because at that moment I was sitting in the back of an official government limousine with Slash, heading for the White House and a private meeting with the current U.S. president. We’d been summoned unexpectedly, and I had no idea why. It wasn’t unusual for Slash, who’s the current Director of the Information Assurance Directorate at the NSA, to be summoned. But why had the president specifically asked for me to be included?

“I just don’t get it,” I muttered to Slash. “Why do I have to be there?” He glanced down, to where my fingers tapped on an imaginary keyboard. It was a nervous, reflexive gesture. I hated surprises almost as much as I hated meeting people, even if they were the president of the United States.

“I’ve already told you,cara,” Slash said patiently. “I don’t know why he asked specifically for you. We’ll find out soon enough.”

I stared at him, wondering if he knew but wasn’t telling me because we weren’t in a secure location. He seemed calm while he looked out the window, but I knew he was expertly scanning the traffic and environment.

When it comes to us, there are always ever-present threats.

I used to be an ordinary geek girl who worked at the NSA, liked crossword puzzles, chocolate eclairs,Doctor Who,and living my life online. But a series of events and people over the past year had changed all that. I made friends, found a new life outside my virtual one, got a boyfriend and then got engaged, saved the world a couple of times, and became tight with a little black cloud of trouble that wouldn’t seem to leave me alone. A summons from the president seemed ominous. Frankly, Slash and I needed a break from ominous.

After going through several security checkpoints, and having our IDs and retinas scanned and fingerprints logged, we were ushered inside to an internal security area where a guard checked our identification yet again and asked us to sign in on an electronic pad. A Secret Service agent led us through the halls of the White House, past more static agents, and through a couple of biometrically guarded entrances until we were ushered into the Oval Office.

It was pretty cool to walk into America’s center of power. I took a minute to marvel at the furniture, the heavy velvet curtains, the presidential rug, and the detailed, historic paintings, making sure I could recount every detail to my friends, Basia, Elvis, Xavier and Finn when they asked me about it later.

President Jack Paulson rose from behind his desk and came to greet us. General Norton, who was sitting in a visitor chair, also stood. Both men were smiling and seemed completely at ease. In fact, everyone looked so happy, it immediately made me suspicious. I’d never been to the Oval Office before, but somehow I’d expected it to be a somber occasion if I were ever invited—exactly the opposite of the vibe I was getting. Not that I was good at getting vibes, but even Slash seemed puzzled by their upbeat demeanor.

“Slash, Miss Carmichael, thank you both for coming.” The president shook our hands firmly, making eye contact and ensuring we felt as if we were the most important people in the world.

The president was obviously good at making people feel at ease in his presence—not surprising since he was a politician—but today his blue eyes were sparkling with good humor. While I wasn’t a people person by any stretch of the imagination, his favorable mood seemed genuine, which baffled me even more.

“I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules to meet with me,” he said.

Right. Like we were busy in comparison to the president of the United States. However, I appreciated he was trying to put us at ease. He ushered us to a set of chairs near General Norton, who also shook hands with us. Slash and I sat and waited to see what would unfold.

President Paulson pulled a chair over, joining us. He sat back, crossing his legs and putting his hands on the armrests. I’d never been this close to him. I could see the gray streaks running through his hair, something that was hard to distinguish on television. But no question, he was just as handsome in person as he was on television.

“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve asked you here,” he said, spreading his hands. “I recently had a conversation with the pope and your names came up.”

I exchanged a glance with Slash.What had happened in Rome a few months ago had been a mostly personal matter involving Slash, me, the pope, and the future of the Vatican. But President Paulson was a devout Catholic, and whatever the pope had said about us had obviously made a deep impression and piqued his curiosity.

“The Holy Father said you helped him with an important personal matter,” the president continued when we didn’t offer a ready explanation. “While he was unable to reveal the nature of the matter, he said he was deeply appreciative for your assistance. Although it was not official U.S. business, he said it served to further strengthen ties between the U.S. and the Vatican. As a result, I summoned General Norton to learn more about our star NSA employee and his fiancée, both of whom are trotting around the globe strengthening national ties while on personal leave.”

A hint of color touched Slash’s cheeks, but his expression remained neutral. “Sir, the personal matter involved my younger brother who’s getting married at Christmas. There was a minor complication getting his marriage approved by the church, and since I used to work at the Vatican, I went to Rome to intercede on his behalf. While there, I was able to assist the Holy Father with a matter close to his heart. I’m glad he was so pleased with the outcome he saw fit to further fortify U.S. and Vatican relations.”

Only I knew what a broad and noncommittal explanation he’d just given, but I was impressed he’d come up with it on such short notice. Slash was good like that, whereas I sucked at that kind of on-the-spot conversational flexibility.

The president leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. “Well, whatever you did and however you did it, your country thanks you, as do I. Well done, both of you. I’ll be meeting personally with the pope next year to discuss a number of important initiatives. That timetable was moved up, thanks to you, and comes at a good time for me personally and professionally.”

He didn’t offer details and we didn’t ask.

“I may be reaching out to you closer to that time with some thoughts and ideas I’d like to run by you, if that’s acceptable to you,” he continued.

Slash dipped his head in agreement. “Of course.”

“Excellent.” The president turned his laser-blue eyes on me. “Now, Miss Carmichael, I hear you’re planning a wedding.”

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