Page 21 of Edge of Honor

When Nicholas asked why he hadn’t taken any of this to the Secret Service, the former National Security Advisor’s answer stunned him.

Pulling out his phone, Nicholas knew what he had to do next. He composed a quick text and hit send.

When he was finished, he looked up at Rogers, who asked, “Who’d you send that to?”

“The one person who can help you.”

CHAPTER 11

Scot was familiar with Sølvi’s past. She had been brutally honest with him and had shared everything—her drug addiction as a model in Paris, her recovery and entry into the Norwegian military, and her relapse when her previous husband left her because of her inability to have children.

It was an incredibly painful story, but only by owning and acknowledging it could she move beyond it.

One thing that Scot didn’t know, though it didn’t surprise him, was the number of strings that needed to be pulled to get her reinstated at the Norwegian Intelligence Service after her relapse.

Her mentor, an NIS legend named Carl Pedersen, had moved heaven and earth. He had not only vouched for her, but he had also called in every single debt owed to him.

In the end, one person had stood between Sølvi and getting her career back—the head of the Norwegian Parliamentary Intelligence Oversight Committee, Anita Stang, who now, years later, had become Prime Minister of Norway.

Without a debt Carl could call in from her, he was required to make her a promise. If the day came that she needed something, all she would have to do is ask. But before she had been able to cash in her chit, Pedersen had been killed. As the Prime Minister saw it, however, the debt was binding and transferable. Sølvi agreed.

And so when Ambassador Hansen had left the house, she had already secured Sølvi’s cooperation. Sølvi would join the Prime Minister’s protectivedetail and be with her for the duration of the NATO Summit. All Sølvi had requested was to be the person her husband heard it from. Hence the cryptic goodbye from the Ambassador and the shift in Sølvi’s demeanor when seeing her off.

One of the things Scot loved about his wife was her integrity. She was doing the right thing. He respected her for that.

What’s more, she knew how to handle herself. If anything went down, the Norwegians would be thanking their lucky stars that they had brought her onto the team. He had seen her in action enough times, including last night, to know what a badass he’d married.

With the added comfort of knowing that the NATO Summit was going to be one of the most secure events of the year, he said the very thing to her that she would have said to him had their situations been reversed: “What can I do to help?”

Sølvi kissed him. It was the perfect answer on every level as far as she was concerned. Like nobody else before in her life, he “got” her.

He understood that what she was doing was not only out of loyalty to her mentor, but also out of allegiance to her country.

She hadn’t yet decided if she was going to return to the NIS, but agreeing to work the Prime Minister’s detail could only help to keep a seat warm for her.

After checking the husband box, Scot immediately went into tactical mode. “You’re going to have a gun and body armor, right?” he asked.

Sølvi nodded. “They’re bringing my full kit from my weapons locker in Oslo.”

With that, there was nothing else he could do, except to figure out how, without a car of their own, she was going to get back and forth from “work.”

Hopping on a car-sharing site, he was able to find a whole bunch of vehicles, available immediately in their area. He screened out the EVs as Sølvi couldn’t stand them and he didn’t have a charging station anyway. Choosing vehicles that could be delivered next door to Mount Vernon, he winnowed the list even further.

“Volkswagen Jetta, Mercedes-Benz C-Class, or Ford Mustang?” he asked, picking out the top three listings with the best ratings.

She looked at him like he was nuts. “Duh,” she replied. “Mustang.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, selecting the vehicle.

“Hold on. It’s not a four-cylinder, is it?”

Harvath checked the description. “Nope. Dark Horse Premium Package. Comes with a five-liter V-8.”

“Good. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a four-banger Mustang.”

He smiled again. “They can drop it off at Mount Vernon around lunchtime.”

“Book it,” she stated, and he did.

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