Sworn to Protect Page 7

  ANTHONY

  I drink my perfect cup of coffee made by the perfect girl while staring at what I might describe as the perfect landscape. It was so surreal being here with Katie.

  Over the years, I was shaped by my experiences on this farm. Working with the farmhands, exploring with my friends, mucking out the stalls. I learned so much during those years. I wondered if there was more it could give, something to help me understand what was happening between Katie and me, give me guidance on what to do. Every thought I had was about her. I couldn't help it; it was my job after all—no scratch that. I didn't want to think about my career. I wanted to think about how Katie looked wearing that skimpy nightshirt, leaning over the kitchen counter, her head resting on her bent arm.

  The long shirt was stretched and clung to the bottom of her ass, barely hanging on, but so thin that I could trace the outline with my eyes. Remembering how it felt rubbing against me last night had lust building, and when she flashed me her ass as she reached for the mugs, my cock jerked so hard I almost fell over. Last night was my favorite image; when she came out for a drink and stood by the window, moonlight highlighted the honey tones in her hair, the light shining through the thin fabric, outlining all the curves of her body. She stood there absorbed in my perfect view, with the same awestruck look on her face that I wear when looking out there.

  I hadn't been able to sleep and stood at the window for a bit, then sat in the dark, close to the door, my training placing me between Katie and any intruder who might come. As I watched her exit her room and walk across the living room, I stared unabashedly, soaking in her essence. After she went to sleep, I stayed in the chair, needing to protect her. If I couldn't be in bed with my arms around her, at least I would be right outside her door.

  When she started screaming, I flew through the door and saw her thrashing on the bed in a full nightmare. I shook her and spoke to her until she woke up, then curled up beside her to help her get back to sleep. I intended to leave as soon as I knew she was okay, but I couldn't. The feel of her body against mine was a level of pleasurable agony I wanted to endure, to sear in my soul. I held her until dawn then quietly left before the morning wake up got awkward.

  I went out on the deck and called Jeff, hoping for good news.

  "FBI switchboard, how can I help you?" We agreed to run my calls through the central line instead of calling Jeff directly, in case the leak was tracing his communications.

  "Yes, Jeff Bakken, please."

  "One moment." I listened to the operator's clicks and then some funky instrumental version of Born in the USA before Jeff picked up his line.

  "Hey, Boss, just checking in. I know I'm not scheduled back until Monday but thought I'd see if there was something you needed, and I could come back sooner?"

  "Sorry, Agent Reece, I think you need the time off. We have a few irons in the fire, but nothing is pressing, and it'll be better to have you back at full strength next week."

  Jeff was telling me they had some leads but not a lot of information yet. "I get it; I'm just bored. Too quiet after everything."

  "Quiet is good, Anthony. Take the time. We'll be here when you get back."

  "You're right. Okay if I check back in a couple of days, just in case?"

  Jeff laughed. "Sure, but I doubt there will be a reason for you to end your holiday early."

  He sounded resigned to a prolonged investigation. It could take more than the week Katie and I talked about and that I told Aunt Claire. Hopefully, we'd be wrong, and the FBI would get a solid lead soon. I needed to be doing something to at least feel like I was helping. "Hey, Jeff, a favor?"

  "Sure, if I can. What do you need?"

  I had to figure out how to word my question to keep it vague but also make sure Jeff understood what I was asking. "I was working on a couple of cases before I went undercover. I'm sure they've been closed by now, but I wondered if I could review the file, see how it turned out?"

  Jeff was silent for a moment and thought he might say no. "I don't think there's harm in that. As long as you don't start tearing it apart or calling the agents to ask questions?"

  "Absolutely. No problem. Thanks, Jeff."

  We hung up, and I got an email from Jeff about twenty minutes later. He sent me two files, the case names, and numbers I'd worked last year. When I put in my access code and started reading the files, I frowned. Not only had Jeff sent me the data for Jonathan Colby's murder and Katie's attack, but he'd also attached the file on Senator Hart's investigation from last year for taking bribes to push lobbyist agendas through Congress. The investigation cleared the Senator, but not before the press smeared the lies across the news. It was a hard time for Uncle Jackson and Aunt Claire, with the investigation coming on the heels of my mother's death.

  Last year wasn't great for my family. I remember spending a lot of time avoiding the city. Aunt Claire stayed on the farm pretty exclusively, and my father had lengthy visits as well. I joined them on weekends to be with them as well as distract us from the investigation. It was hard, dealing with the Senator's troubles, but the time together helped us heal after Mom passed.

  I skimmed the file on Katie's attack, in case there was information I didn't already know, but the record was thin. The only new information was a description of Colby's killer based on the video Katie had provided. He was masked so we couldn't run him through facial recognition, and he wore gloves, so neither AFIS nor CODIS, the fingerprint and DNA registries would be helpful. The techs were able to get an approximate body size by comparing him to Colby, but nothing stood out to narrow down a suspect list.

  I opened the Colby file and read it carefully. This information was all new. The coroner's report included the toxicology results, which indicated Colby died of a rare poison. The poison's delivery method was unknown to the coroner; they couldn't identify an injection point or penetration area, but with Katie's video, we knew the killer injected something into Colby's ear. Interviews with colleagues and family about what Colby had done the seventy-two hours before his death and questions about suspicious behavior at the office or any threats he may have received. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Colby lived alone in an apartment near Dupont Circle. The FBI had searched it, but I wanted to see the apartment for myself to see if they missed anything. I promised Jeff I would only read the material and not actively participate in the investigation. It could risk Katie, exposing her whereabouts and her life if anyone else knew I was not on leave. I continued through the file, beginning to understand the frustration I heard in Jeff's voice. There wasn't anything in the file that gave the FBI a lead in the case.

  I thought about what I would do next if I were investigating the murder. If nothing in his immediate circle provided a lead, then you had to widen the circle. Colby wasn't married, and there wasn't evidence so far of Jonathan being in a relationship, his colleagues all said he didn't have time. Now you interview his family, neighbors, landlord, and the restaurants in his neighborhood, scrub his credit card charges. You need to find a pattern of behavior, places Colby frequented where he might have met a romantic interest, or pissed off the wrong person.

  I also understood why Jeff sent me the investigation on the Senator. He was widening the circle, and with the Senator's inquiry not that long ago, it was worth seeing if they could make any direct connection to his Chief of Staff's murder.

  I hated the thought of my uncle getting caught up in another scandal. The press was already inferring links with the death. I stayed out of the investigation last year, keeping any hint of impropriety away. I didn't want to read the file, didn't want my opinion of my uncle to be tainted by the allegations or coincidences that might be outlined. But I couldn't ignore the connection and forced myself to open the file. I read through the interviews with his staff, including Jonathan Colby, as well as fellow Senators whom my uncle worked with closely. There were extensive interviews conducted on miscellaneous staffers at the Capitol Building, including security, kitchen, and janitorial. They question
ed everyone about the hours Senator Hart kept and if they remember him taking early or late meetings at his office when many of Congress were not in the building. There wasn't much of a pattern outlined that looked out of place. The FBI procured the Senator's credit card statements and phone records, but all strange purchases or calls were followed up and explained. They examined the Senator's rulings on bills, and there were a few things he supported that didn't fall under his agenda, but he acknowledged those votes were made in exchange for the support he wanted on other items. It was commonplace to make deals like that, and while I didn't like that Uncle Jackson was willing to compromise his values, I know that was politically how things got done.

  Ugh. No leads.

  I pushed away from the computer and sat back, running my fingers through my hair, pulling on it. Let's hope the wider circle yielded something, or we would have to come up with a new plan to keep Katie safe.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KATIE

  I felt proud of the work I was doing on the documentary. The cut looked good, at least as far as I had pieced together. Jonathan's interview was mainly in the last beat, and I hadn't been able to go back to it since seeing the killer on the screen. My memory blurred on what I witnessed versus saw on the video. I remember the scared look in his eyes as he tried to speak to me, making the calls to 911 and how tired my arms felt trying to give him CPR. I remember feeling frantic that I should have been doing more to help him but couldn't recall what that was. Then the isolation when the paramedics whisked him away and I was left alone; echoes of the turbulence from moments earlier still reverberating off the walls and in my ears. I thought I also saw the killer, but that had to be filler my mind latched onto after seeing the video. It played over in my mind, mixing with the break-in at my apartment. Just thinking about using Jonathan's interview in my film bounced emotional images around in my head.

  I tried to focus on the other parts of my story; I had a lot to do, so that wasn't hard. What was hard was Anthony sitting across from me, typing away on his computer. His proximity was close enough to touch, our legs inadvertently doing so as we shifted in our seats throughout the day. Each brush of his foot or leg against mine had me squirming as tiny shocks rippled up my body. It distracted me for minutes at a time, several times throughout the day. If Anthony felt anything, he didn't react. Made me even more frustrated.

  It had been three days since we arrived at Aunt Claire's and he'd kissed me. Anthony was due to follow up with his boss on the FBI progress tomorrow morning; we both hoped this call would be better than the first and the FBI would have some leads. I kept my focus on the positive because if not, I didn't know where that left me. Would they tell me to go home? Perhaps the killer had left, and I would be safe? I wouldn't feel safe.

  Anthony had been good at providing distractions, so I didn't get bogged down in what I couldn't control right now. He took me on walks around the farm; there seemed an endless number of paths and routes that wound themselves around the property, and everything was beautiful. We had many debates about what music was best. He was a fan of the early '80s. I grew up with ‘N Sync, Kelly Clarkson, and Eminem. He was an excellent cook, and I was dismal but trying. Being with Anthony was comfortable and fun. His aunt invited us to share dinner with her one evening along with a neighbor, and we got into a wicked scrabble match after, with Claire and Anthony trying to pass off fake words. They were both really good at pleading their case, but I never believe them, and neither did Teresa, Claire's neighbor. But we laughed at how far they'd go.

  The ends of the evenings were the hardest, the pull to Anthony growing stronger and resisting it proving more difficult. Within one minute of the door closing, I was naked and in the shower, fantasizing about all the places I wanted Anthony to touch and all the things I knew he could do to my body. I'd had a couple more nightmares, always with the masked man closing in on me, and always Anthony rescuing me and holding me, keeping me safe.

  Maybe it's just hero worship. Yeah, I found him attractive when we first met, but that might have waned had he not been put in charge of protecting me. And now, isolated, he was my world. It was only natural that people locked together will develop feelings for each other, right? Psychologists call it transference.

  Who was I kidding? Anthony is smart, fun, and sexy as hell. A tasty distraction.

  This is why I whimper as his leg came to rest against mine under the table, feeling equally comforting and sensual. This is an unfortunate distraction. It made me think of other parts of our body that could be touching. I let my mind wander through those possibilities; our arms linked together, our chests pressed together, our hips gyrating together. My pulse quickened, the images tingling my body.

  CRAP!

  I just wasted fifteen minutes lusting over something I couldn't have, would never have, when I should have been reviewing the b-roll I shot from an educational conference.

  My concentration shot, I gripped the table's edge to stop me from throwing myself at Anthony, even as his warm flesh continued to caress mine. I scraped my chair across the floor as I hastily got up. "I need some fresh air," I announced and grabbed a pair of shoes from my room, only to find Anthony had closed his computer and was waiting for me by the door when I returned.

  DOUBLE CRAP!

  I guess I wasn't going to escape him entirely, but at least I didn't have to endure the sweet torment of his skin on mine.

  ANTHONY

  We set out with no destination in mind but found ourselves walking in the back pasture where the horses liked to run. The view from the shack might be my favorite, but this area was a close second. I recalled many times I’d ride out here and sit by the creek, watching the horses come down for a drink or wade in the water to cool off.

  When I had big decisions to make, this was my place to sort through things, like my decision to join the Army. Mom wasn’t keen on that idea. She said her heart couldn’t take the stress knowing my life could be in danger every day, but she knew it was paramount for me to serve my country. Dad told me there were other ways to serve, working in a government position stateside or helping to shape policies as he did, but he was proud of me no matter what I chose, as long as I did it for me and not anyone else.

  The creek, which bordered three sides of the farm, was shallow and wide in this area, slowing the current and provided a drinking hole for the horses. Grass grew right up to the creek’s edge, with clusters of trees giving shade where the stream bent. We walked alongside the creek bed, enjoying the beauty in silence. It was a warm, breezy afternoon, and the sunlight reflected off the particles in the stones under the water.

  I pointed out a section of the creek ahead where the land dipped on both sides. “Vehicle access,” I told Katie. I also felt the need to confess this was the site of my infamous first meeting with Stephanie Chamberlain.

  “Truly?” Katie laughed.

  “Yep.” I buried my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “I was thirteen and if you met Stephanie back then you’d understand.”

  Katie continued to laugh as she approached the water, bending down to test the temperature. Her cotton pants stretched tight around her hips, the outline of her cute rear forming, and I held my breath. She shot me a coy look through her legs as she rolled up her pants. “Coming?”

  Holy. Crap.

  Yeah, sure. In about a minute, if she keeps that up.

  She stood and waded into the creek, leaning down to rinse the sheen of perspiration away from her arms. I didn’t dare move, didn’t want to break the spell Katie unknowingly weaved as she trudged through the water, the sun bathing her, little beads of sweat on her chest shimmering in the light. I licked my lips as my body stirred in response. She beckoned me to join her, but I shook my head. I had a hard enough time keeping my hands off her under fully clothed circumstances. No way was I tempting fate. I watched her saunter my way, and I thought she’d had enough of the water, but instead, she knelt and rolled my pants up. I opened my mouth to protest, but her fingers brush
ed my leg as my pants rose. That wasn’t the only thing to rise, and I swallowed my words behind a quiet hiss as I fought to keep control of my traitorous body.

  I only half resisted as she pulled me back to the water and I had to admit it was refreshing. The chilled water gave me something else to focus on, and I closed my eyes, letting the heat of the sun and the cool of the stream do their magic. I could feel myself relaxing into the moment until drops hit my face, cold, out of place. It wasn’t starting to rain, was it? My eyes flashed open and to the sky. Not a cloud in sight. Where did the…? More drops hit me, many more this time, coming from my right. I turned as Katie scooped up more water to splash my way.

  “Don’t even think about it!” I tried my stern voice, even though I was already laughing. I darted to the left and avoided most of the water Katie shoveled toward me.

  Reaching down, I pushed some water toward Katie and doused the side of her shirt. She shivered as the cold water hit her, but it didn’t seem to slow her down. The warmth of the sun dried us off almost as quickly as we were damp. A two-handed scoop of water came at me, drenching my pants and I retaliated with a barrage of water tossed her way. In no time, we were both soaked and breathing heavily from the exertion.

  “Give up?” I asked, my hands on my knees as I breathed in deeply.

  Katie didn’t answer right away and I could tell by her look she didn’t want to. “I suppose we should dry off.”

  Her statement was sound and reasonable. So why was my guard still up? I got my answer when Katie hurtled toward me, using her feet to splash a hoard of water my way. I started to move out of her path then she lost her balance and teetered toward me. I stepped forward and caught her in my arms as she smashed against me, laughing. Her breasts hit my chest and I could feel her excitement pressing through her shirt. We were breathing heavily, our body heat steaming through our clothes. Katie was so close my arm moved to tighten, remembering how I held her during her nightmares. Her lips parted and I wanted a repeat of that kiss we shared. Her eyes told me she wanted it too.