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  “Yeah, I’m okay and safe. Gotta go.” I hung up the phone and turned it off. I knew I shouldn’t have taken the call. Hottie said no calls. If someone wanted to find me, they could zero in on GPS through the call, which is why I had disabled the GPS last night before I even left my house. I know it wasn’t foolproof, but it would slow them down. And taking the call may have been stupid, but worse would be to leave Annie stranded. If I hadn’t spoken to her, she would have worried. Then she would go over to my house to find the door smashed in; then she’d call the cops, the FBI, the media, anyone she thought could help find me, convinced something terrible had happened. We have to keep a low profile. Having my picture splayed across the networks and the web as a missing person wasn’t a way to do that.

  I would need to justify that to Mr. Hottie—I really have to get his name. I didn’t listen when we were at the FBI office, thinking I’d never see him again. There were no introductions made last night, and I couldn’t ask Annie on the phone, not with Hottie listening.

  The question was whether to volunteer my justification for talking to Annie or wait until he gave me a lecture on the security risks of a cell phone.

  I decided to wait. I know all about the risks. I worked on a documentary about them a couple of years ago, but listening to him ramble for a while would be an excellent diversion.

  A while turned out to be 93 minutes; I clocked it, including a stop to toss my phone in the trash at a gas station. I resisted the urge to say “no exceptions” when he exited the freeway but knew that would come to no good. And he made a few points I wasn’t aware of, so I learned something. Cool. I think he could have continued, but when we turned down a long private drive, he grew quiet again.

  I wonder where we are.

  ANTHONY

  I called my Aunt this morning to confirm the guesthouse was open and I could visit. She was ecstatic at the idea I’d be there for a week and even more pleased that I was bringing my girlfriend along. Yeah, that may have been a mistake, but I didn’t know how else to explain why Katie was with me. I hadn’t seen the need to tell Katie anything about the property or who owned it since we were going to be the only people there this week. That changed when I saw Aunt Claire’s car in the drive.

  FUCK!

  She was supposed to be in the city. The Senator had a bill on the Senate floor and she always made sure to be standing by his side when the vote came down. I looked at Katie, unsure of what to say, but time was running out. Claire probably heard my car and will be coming out to greet us at any moment.

  I turned to look at Katie. “I need a favor. I’ll explain everything, but whoever comes out to say hello, can you greet them politely and not say anything more until I get us settled into our rooms?” I glanced at the front door as it opened.

  “Please.”

  Katie looked at the door, then me. “Okay.” She said hesitantly.

  Okay. Now I just needed to get Claire to head back to town before she pries Katie’s life story out of her.

  I got out of the car and helped Katie as Claire came bustling up to me, wiping her hands on her apron before hugging me, squeezing tightly. “Oh, my dear boy. So good to see you.” She took my face in both of her hands. “You’re looking well, but too skinny.”

  I laughed. “Aunt Claire, you always say that, just so you have an excuse to fill my plate with your scalloped potatoes. You wouldn’t be cooking lunch, would you?”

  She smiled and pinched my cheek like I was still nine-years-old. “Of course. I couldn’t let you drive out here and not feed you. What would your Mom say?”

  Mom. She would be appalled at me right now, showing up to Aunt Claire’s without a bottle of wine or at least some good bread. I turned my eyes to the sky. Sorry, Mom.

  “Never you mind, Anthony, introduce me to your lovely friend.” She turned to Katie.

  “Aunt Claire, may I present Ms. Katherine Corcoran. Katie, this is my Aunt Claire.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.” Katie extended her hand, but Claire shooed it away and enveloped her in a hug as fierce as the one she gave me.

  “No formalities around here, please call me Aunt Claire. Now, Anthony, bring the bags to the guesthouse. Katie, you come inside with me and I’ll fix us up some refreshing lemonade.”

  Katie looked to me, unsure about what she should do. I told her to go with Aunt Claire. I’d promised Katie I would explain, but I thought I’d get that chance before leaving her alone with my Aunt. Claire had a knack for asking innocent-looking questions that got you talking about all sorts of personal details. If Katie weren’t careful, she’d fall into the trap and our story would fall apart before we even unpacked. As soon as they disappeared into the house, I ran like the wind to drop our bags off at the guesthouse and then entered the main house from the solarium. I could hear their voices trailing through the house and I followed the pleasant, laughing sounds to the kitchen.

  “…and that’s when he fell off the horse, landing on his butt in the middle of the river.” Katie was laughing at the story Claire told, and I felt a blush stain my neck, knowing what came next.

  “Thank you, Aunt Claire, for thoroughly embarrassing me.” I entered the room, grabbing the lemonade pitcher and pouring myself a glass.

  “Oh, that’s not the embarrassing part, Katie. You see, another rider approached the creek….”

  “Aunt Claire, I’m sure Katie doesn’t want to hear some boring old story.” I hoped my tone was flirty enough to escape Katie’s attention but stern enough to get Claire to change the subject.

  Katie’s laughing increased, seeing my discomfort. “Oh, but I think Katie does want to hear this boring old story.” Her grin was infectious, or perhaps seeing the gold flakes sparkling in her eyes was it. Whatever it was, it distracted me, and I wasn’t able to stop Claire from finishing her story.

  “George Chamberlain owns the neighboring farm and George had just remarried, a pretty young thing named Stephanie. She must have been about twenty at the time, right, Anthony?”

  I just hung my head, knowing I was unable to stop Claire. I heard Katie giggle as Claire continued. “Well, Stephanie took her mare out for a spin around the farm and heard the splash, found Anthony sitting in the middle of the creek with young Tiffany laughing from her seat on Whisper. Poor Anthony took one look at Stephanie and he was a goner.”

  “You mean he got a crush on her and dropped Tiffany?” Katie looked from my Aunt to me. I was not about to add anything to Claire’s story.

  Claire chuckled, “not exactly, dear. You see, Stephanie was a beauty, full breasts, long coppery hair, a young toned body and totally aware of her effect on men; Anthony was only thirteen at the time, well, he got a woody sitting in the creek, watching Stephanie on that horse.”

  “Oh my god.” Katie’s hand covered her mouth, but I could see the mirth in her eyes.

  “Yeah, poor Tiffany, she was so appalled, she ran home and told all her friends about it.” Claire took a sip of her drink.

  “She still won’t look me in the eye,” I smirked.

  Claire thought for a moment. “Didn’t Stephanie hit on you a couple of years later at their holiday party?”

  “Yeah, and every year since. That woman is relentless.”

  KATIE

  Anthony!

  I'd never been happier than I was when Claire said his name. I wouldn't have to apologize for not remembering it or acknowledging that I'd coined him, Mr. Hottie. One less embarrassing, insensitive moment for me. The day was looking up. I'd put together that we were staying here, somewhere. The place was huge and this was a family home. But I didn't know why Anthony had been nervous in the car. Aunt Claire had been nothing but welcoming to me. He'd promise to explain, so I would wait, hopefully.

  Remember, I am not the patient type.

  It was strangely intimate hanging out in Claire's kitchen and evidently, Anthony had spent a lot of time in this house growing up. The bantering and storytelling continued over lunch with Anthony trying and fail
ing to steer Claire away from tales of his youth. Through bites of scalloped potatoes that melted in my mouth, I mostly listened and observed the conversation, my heart opening to Anthony. I assumed our coffee mishap was an example of both our bad behaviors and resolved to clear the slate. Heck, the way Claire spoke of Anthony, with adoration shining in her eyes, the man was a saint.

  I sincerely hope not. It would be a shame to waste that luscious body.

  With Claire and Anthony volleying, I had free rein to look over Anthony. His chiseled jaw still showed a bit of the farmer's tan from where he'd shaved off the beard. Why did he do it? In my fantasies, he'd kept it, giving him a wilder look, one my body responded to instantly. Like now, my core fluttered in his wake, thinking about those soft whiskers trailing down my stomach.

  My pulse amplified and I let out a long breath to calm myself. Jeez, what this man did to me. No guy had interested or tempted me in over a year, and I wasn't the type of girl who slept with just anyone. I needed to feel a connection and I was feeling it with Anthony; it was a craving, like a fix I needed. I didn't know if I could keep my hands off him for the next week until they caught the lunatic after me. I wanted to pounce and ride Anthony like he was a stallion I'd asked Santa for and Christmas had arrived.

  With Anthony's suit coat removed and sleeves rolled up, I spied the edge of a tattoo, what looked like the tip of a knife. Another thing to unwrap.

  Oof! I'm generally not like this, believe it or not. I see men every day, good-looking men, and I don't undress them with my eyes and imagine them doing filthy wonderful things in my mind twenty-four seven. I don't know what has come over me.

  Okay, so it's been a while since I've had sex. That should prove my point. I don't drag any ole guy into the copy room and tear his clothes off. Why this guy? And why now? Could I be a cliché? The damsel in distress who clings to her protector because she can't protect herself? No, absolutely not. I am not clingy. And my pussy throbbed for him before I knew I was in trouble. But I could be reacting abnormally due to my circumstances. That had to be it. It was just a stressful environment, combined with the fear of death and everything out of control that had my body yearning for something. It could be anyone, right?

  Well, almost anyone. Desk Boy didn't do it for me. Neither did Detective Him. And, if I thought about the clinical definition I'd just made up for why I lusted after Anthony; it didn't hold water. If all that was true, I would've thrown myself at any guy in my path, my need would've outweighed my brain. Nope. Unfortunately, I would be stuck here for the next week with the only guy whose pole I wanted to climb in over a year.

  "How long have you known?" I adjusted my brain back to the conversation, realizing Claire had directed a question to me, and I had no clue what she asked.

  Dammit, Katie!

  I did it again. I get zoned out, usually when I'm on a project, thinking about how to structure the piece, visualizing it in my head, lying in the sections. I tune out what's around me to focus. Mom thought I was creative, a dreamer; Dad said I was featherbrained and it would get me in trouble. I guess he was right. I opened my mouth to contrive some response when Anthony beat me to it.

  "Six months Aunt Claire. Give or take a few days." He smiled big at me and winked. Confusion spread across my face as Anthony continued.

  "I met Katie at the 'No-Nonsense' rally in January. You remember that event, Aunt Claire? The one where they wanted everyone to dress in nothing but plastic bags to protest congressional double-speak and government waste? The Parks Service tried to urge people to at least wear clothing under the plastic bags because it would only be about five degrees outside, and they worried victims of hypothermia would overrun the hospitals?" Claire was nodding and chuckling along with Anthony as he recalled that event.

  I remembered the event. I was there to film it for the environmental lobby. Not only was the lobby concerned all the plastic bags would end up in our landfills or worse, be dropped to the ground after the rally and washed into our sewers, clogging the system, but the lobby looked at this event as a way to also point the finger at the end-users ineffectiveness at affecting change, which directly correlates to the condition of our world. People putting their heads in the sand to avoid recognizing that we are killing the planet and how it's not going to change with laws, individuals en mass need to join together to save ourselves. It was a strong message and I got kudos from my clients for hitting the nail on the head. It also spring-boarded me to the staff position at Criterion. The rally itself was organized poorly and its messaging was weak. But it had lots of press, so people showed, just to see what it was all about. I got lots of interviews and great footage. But I met Anthony there? I would have remembered that.

  "Katie was shooting a PSA about the dangers of wearing bags over your head."

  "Oh! I remember that." Claire jumped in. "That was funny. You did that?" She said, turning to me.

  "Yeah. I had fun making it too." I smiled on the outside, but my stomach was turning on the inside. How did Anthony know that was mine?

  "Anyway, it was an ugly day, rainy and cold. I remember Katie was all bundled up like it was the Arctic. You could barely see her face."

  I jumped in to defend the seven layers of clothing I'd worn. "Humans are not designed for the cold."

  He smiled at me and winked, my core clenching again. "Katie got this guy on camera who wore nothing but plastic bags. He had a bag on his head, over his body, and on both feet. He looked ridiculous and Katie asked him if he was concerned that these bags would end up in a landfill. But he was adamant that he wanted to help clean up our world as well as the government, which is why he was wearing bio-degradable bags." Anthony glanced at me. "Do you want to tell her what happened?" I shook my head, still baffled at how he knew all this. "He was going on and on about the rally, about how the government overspent and had frivolous programs that didn't help anyone and how we needed to strip the government down."

  He looked at me and I knew where he was going with the story; I couldn't hold back my laughter, remembering. He continued, looking at Claire. "I told you it was raining," he said to Claire, pausing.

  "Yeah?" she replied.

  "Well, during his speech to Katie, the rain was hitting his bags, and his bags started to melt where the water hit. Turns out, it wasn't biodegradable bags. He bought water-soluble bags, so just when he said the government needed to strip down, the bags fell off his shoulders and he was naked underneath."

  "Oh, my Goodness! On camera?" I nodded to Claire, who burst out laughing, cupping her hand over her mouth as she doubled over in her chair.

  When she recovered, she got back to her question. "So Katie, did you interview Anthony? Is that how you met?"

  Anthony again answered for me, which was good, since I still don't remember meeting him there. "No, I had to arrest the naked man for indecent exposure," Anthony said laughingly. "I met Katie when I asked for her side of the story."

  I remember the cops coming and arresting Gregory Stevens and that I made a statement to the cops. Still, it was DC Metro who spoke with me. I even remember his name, Officer Kelley, because we talked about how much we hated the weather. My gaze shot over to Anthony, who now held a somber expression, and he nodded once, acknowledging that there was a fib in his story. I still didn't know why, but I recalled my promise to roll with it until he could explain.

  "So was it love at first sight?" Claire's gaze lobbed between Anthony and me, and I rolled with it, smiling through clenched teeth, biting down. I could taste the copper as I punctured a capillary. I was going to start rolling downhill if we didn't get to the explanation part soon.

  "Yes. I took one look at her big, brown eyes and was a goner. I couldn't even see the rest of her; she looked like a burnt marshmallow." I was wearing my favorite dark brown down coat that day and it draped almost to the ground. "But I had to win Katie over. She's a tough cookie."

  "Oh, that's such a good story." Claire was bouncing in her seating, clapping her hands together. I felt l
ike bouncing, too, all the way out of this room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ANTHONY

  Thank god I read Katie’s file last night. I have to remember to thank the data team. They are thorough. Even included pictures.

  I know I oversold the story to Aunt Claire, and I owed Katie big for not outing us, but I’d be pressing my luck if I didn’t get us to the guesthouse and clarify the situation soon. I picked up the remnants of the meal from the table, Katie and Claire taking the cue that lunch was over. We all helped wash the dishes and put away the leftovers; then, I excused Katie and me so we could unpack. The minute we were out of earshot of Claire, she laid into me.

  “Okay. What. The. Fuck.”

  I chuckled, expecting more of a tirade, but appreciated her directness. It was much better than having to listen to five minutes of angst from a woman as she used a litany of adjectives meant to tell me exactly what her issue was but mainly confused me.

  “I didn’t expect Aunt Claire to be at the house when we arrived and I had hoped I’d get the chance to talk to you before we sat down for lunch, so first I want to say thank you for not freaking out.”

  Katie didn’t reply, letting her earlier words carry forward. She did nod, so I continued. “We think there’s a leak in the FBI.” I began.

  “A leak? What kind of leak? Tell me it’s a plumber-related thing.” Her seriousness was my undoing and I burst out laughing, stopping in my tracks, having to lean over and rest my hands on my knees until I regained my composure. I looked at her, standing with a hand on her hip, a smile playing on her lips. Spunky was such a turn on I couldn’t resist. I wrapped my arms around her in a huge hug, spinning her around before setting her down. I instinctually pressed my lips to hers, but what I intended to be a light peck ignited the smoldering kindling between us. My hold tightened, my lips coaxing hers to part, and she leaned into me as they did, our kiss going wild. My hand splayed lower, pulling her closer, almost bending us over as I tried to fuse our bodies. Her fingers ran through my hair and down my back, her grip strong enough to leave marks. She moaned and my cock throbbed, desperate to tear off her clothes and take her on the grass, right then, right out in the open, right in view of my aunt’s kitchen window.