Page 43 of No Vow Broken

“Yet, obviously, they weren’t.” Fury rose in his chest and his hand clenched the phone so tightly he could feel the cheap plastic begin to give. “Our men are untraceable, correct?”

“Absolutely. That’s for certain.”

“It had better be. So, what do you intend to do now?”

“I’m still gathering information. There’s no indication yet, that they have canceled the wedding. We planned for every contingency, including if they cancel the wedding, so we now just see where this goes and take the next step.”

“Security will be exceptionally tight from now on.” Boris considered his words before taking a sip of his coffee. “Have you received and secured the special fail-safe packages?”

“Yes, sir. But I don’t think we’ll need them.”

“You didn’t think we’d be where we are now either. You’ll use them if you must.”

“I understand. The wedding party has been sequestered at a hotel near the White House. They will be going to the White House in a few hours for a debrief. According to our source, everyone will then proceed back to the hotel afterward. We do not know their plans after that. However, we’ll be prepared to strike when their guard is down.”

Boris remained silent. It had gone their way in one sense, but he was displeased the attempt had not been tidy. He didn’t suffer incompetents well. Now, the stakes and risks were higher with the US Secret Service on high alert.

“Just get the job done. I’m leaving today for an extended vacation in Monaco. Moscow isn’t pleasant right now, and it will be lot less pleasant if this is ever traced back to me. You will contact me as soon as you have an update.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get the job done as requested. Given the recent media attention, you may know of our success before I can contact you.”

“You’d better, because you know the price you’ll pay if you don’t.”

TWENTY-FOUR

Lexi

It was a bit surreal to be walked from the White House to Blair House in the middle of the night. The Blair House, which sat adjacent to the White House, was a historic home built in 1824 that typically hosted foreign dignitaries. Slash assured me it was often used as overflow space for the president’s friends and family. I wasn’t sure where we fit into that definition, but here we were.

While we were walking down the sidewalk, one of the Secret Service agents explained why most guests and foreign dignitaries no longer stayed at the White House.

“It was primarily because of Eleanor Roosevelt,” he said. “She wanted guests that she didn’t really know out of her house.”

“I can’t blame her for that,” I said. “I wouldn’t want them in my house, either.”

The agent snickered. “Well, supposedly when Winston Churchill was staying at the White House, he tried to enter the Roosevelt’s private quarters at three in the morning to discuss an idea with the president,” the agent explained. “Naturally, Eleanor didn’t like that, so she came up with the idea of hosting foreign dignitaries in a location nearby.”

“Good for her,” I said. “I always thought she was a smart woman.”

Slash and I were ushered into Blair House and up the stairs to a small but lovely room decorated in Victorian style with textured green wallpaper. A large four-poster bed, a heavy antique wooden dresser with candles and lace doilies, and a small seating area rounded out the room. We had no luggage, so the Secret Service agent awkwardly wished us a good night and disappeared into the hallway.

Slash closed the door behind him as I kicked off my shoes and flopped backward onto the bed, my arms spread out.

“Tonight is totally going on the little black cloud spreadsheet,” I said. “I don’t think I can fully process what happened yet. An assassination attempt on the night of our wedding rehearsal? Are you kidding me?”

“It was no joke. We were lucky tonight.”

“I know, and believe me, I’m beyond thankful. I want to hear every detail of everything that happened to you, but not quite yet. I haven’t even had time to process what happened to me. Even worse, I can’t help but worry we brought this upon ourselves and the people we love by involving the president of the United States and his wife. Maybe we should have kept it lower profile.”

“As much as I might have liked to do that, how could we keep it low-profile when the pope is among our guests? It seemed logical, almost necessary, to invite President Paulson to attend, especially since he was the one who recommended we use Amanda as a wedding planner. Not to mention his wife has been helping you and your mother with the wedding. Finally, the president is my boss, in a manner of speaking, so it seemed the right thing to do.”

I sighed. “Of course, it was the right thing to do. I agreed to all of that. I’m just second-guessing myself, and I hate when I do that. You’re right, Slash. We worked hard to keep it to the bare minimum of people—family and close friends only. We did the best we could. It’s just that for two low-key people, our wedding became a lot more high-profile than expected. Do you think this will have made the news?”

“Given the massive police response and presence, I’m confident it will be a page-one story tomorrow in the Washington Post and probably is already the top story on every online news website. Fortunately, the focus will be on the first lady, but someone is going to want to know why she was at Bluff House.”

“I suppose that means any hope of keeping our wedding a secret would be pretty much out the window.”

“That’s another excellent argument for postponing it,” Slash offered while lying down next to me and propping himself up on one elbow.

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