Page 2 of Fatal Love
“What did the president want?” Beatrice said, deciding to focus on work instead of the possibility she would be holding an infant in a few hours. While she’d been in Chicago, he’d been in secret talks with the prez. “You never told me on the plane ride home.”
Cal kept his attention on the road. “Nothing to worry about right now.”
Shewasworried. After her stint with NSA and Command & Control, her trust issues extended to anyone in the government, the president not excluded. “I don’t want you running some top-secret group for him. Or doing anything else for him for that matter.”
“B, it’s alright. I’m not running any top-secret anything for him.”
As was her nature, she felt unsatisfied with his answer. “If it’s not top-secret, why won’t you tell me why he called you to the Oval?”
Cal blew out a long-suffering sigh. “The last thing you need to worry about is work.”
“I’m worried about my husband.”
He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s really not a big deal.”
She didn’t squeeze back. Her stomach was turning somersaults and it wasn’t because of the contractions. “You’re hedging. Which means you’re lying to me.”
The change in his expression was a familiar one. One that said he was giving in. Which rarely happened, even when he knew she was right about something. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to start doling out instructions. Hunter and I will handle the specifics of the assignment and I already know who I’m assigning to the detail.”
“Bodyguarddetail?” The president had the Secret Service for protection, as did his family. “For whom?”
“Warshank has a grown stepdaughter who lives in North Bethesda. Runs a bakery and cafe and lives in some 1800s colonial that she’s fixing up.”
“Mia Layne. I know who she is.” The former president, Linc Norman, had been exposed by Trace as a murderer and impeached. Ironically, only a few weeks before that, Cal had stopped a gunman from killing Norman. The assassin had been working for the Vice President, and she’d been imprisoned for the assassination attempt. A new VP had not been assigned to fill her office, so when Norman was impeached, next in the lineup of presidential succession had been Speaker of the House, Hal Warshank. “Why does Miss Layne need a bodyguard?”
“She’s been under attack—it started with her credit cards being hacked, then came identity theft. A week ago, someone tried to burn down her bakery.”
The grown stepdaughter of the interim president didn’t qualify for Secret Service protection.
Mia did, however, make the perfect client for Rock Star Security.
Another contraction began building low in Beatrice’s belly, but her mind was focused on the potential client. “She needs Rory to stop the cyber-attacks and Nickleback—Jon Wolfe—for her main security specialist. He was awesome in Chicago, helping to stop that sniper. But before you assign them to her case, you need to—”
Cal released her hand and threw both of his in the air. “B! I told you, Hunter and I have it handled.”
The contraction went from a mild squeezing sensation to full on linebacker tackle. As Beatrice sucked in air and squeezed her eyes shut, she felt Cal’s hand on hers again. Instinctively, she gripped it, a lifeline through the pain.
Once the worst passed and she opened her eyes, Cal shot her a serious, narrowed-eyed glance. “That was only five minutes since the last one.”
So the contractions were coming closer together. Fine with her. The sooner she got the baby out of her womb and into the world, the sooner Cal could stop worrying and she could get back to work. “Sloan is suddenly anxious to get here,” she muttered, laying her head back against the headrest.
“Yes, she is,” Cal agreed even though he was, in a sense, disagreeing. “Does Sloan work if it’s a girl?”
She had decided to name the baby after Jax, who’s last name was Sloan. He’d wheedled his way into her heart and Beatrice considered him family. “We’re having a boy.”
“What about a middle name? We never really talked about that.”
Cal was trying to distract her. Which was good. They never had enough time together to relax and talk. Both of them were high-energy people, and while they loved their respective jobs with SFI, they also loved being alone together. Once the baby was here, what little time they’d carved out for each other before would certainly go by the wayside. “I was thinking Hunter. Sloan Hunter Reese.”
“Hunter?” Cal screwed up his nose in mock disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Like Jax, he’s been there for me. For you.”
“Naming our kid after two of the Rock Stars will make the other guys jealous. They’ll think you’re playing favorites.”
True, but… “We can’t name our son after all of them.” Their ranks had grown considerably. “He’d end up with two dozen names.”
They rode for a moment in silence. Then Beatrice had an idea. “How about Zebulon. Sloan Zebulon Reese.”
