Jennifer Morey - Executive Protection

She was beginning to change her mind about this one. Was he a control freak?

“Your family is very important to you,” he finally said, the intensity softening from his eyes.

“Very. I love them. We do things together all the time.”

The waitress dropped off their drinks and took their food order.

“Do you want kids?” Cam asked after she left.

She didn’t hide her enthusiasm. “Do I ever. Three.”

He smiled and the Cam she’d first met returned. “Me, too. I don’t care about the number, but I want a family.”

“And one wife?” she joked.

He laughed. “Yes. I’m a faithful man.”

“Then you’re perfect.”

He seemed to take that to heart. The way he looked at her, his brown eyes warming to almost a creepy degree, unnerved her.

“What about work?” he asked.

“I would still work.” Aside from liking her job, she needed to prove to herself and everyone else that she was capable without her father’s influence. She respected him and his well deserved reputation, but she’d work for her own, on her own.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay at home with the kids?”

“And be worthless if my husband ever left me for another woman?” She laughed at her own teasing, which he didn’t find funny. “I like my job,” she verbalized her thoughts.

“I want my wife to stay at home. I want to provide for her and my kids.”

His kids?

“I would stay home after delivery. Maybe for about six months or a year, but after that I would be itching to get back to work. I like to stay busy.”

“You don’t think kids would keep you busy?”

“Oh, I’m sure they would. But I need adult busy. Brain challenge. Catch my meaning?”

His smile faded and his eyes got that offended look again.

“Why do you want your wife to stay at home?” To control her and everything in the household?

“It’s just my idea of an ideal family. I make a lot of money. My wife shouldn’t have to work. And I don’t want my kids being raised by strangers.”

“That’s understandable. My nursing job could be flexible. I wouldn’t have to work full-time.” And maybe she wouldn’t want to. She didn’t know yet.

When she realized it felt as though she were arguing with Cam and that he’d push the issue if he were ever in a position to have a say on the matter, all-out dread brewed in her.

This was not going to work.

Their food arrived, and Lucy was no longer hungry or excited about this evening.

“Part-time would be all right with me,” he made it worse by saying.

“It wouldn’t be up to you,” she said.

This time he covered his dislike. And he did dislike her response. She could feel it in the energy between them, in the way his eyes shifted from his food to her.

“You wouldn’t take your husband’s wishes into consideration?” he finally asked.

“Would you take your wife’s into yours?” She was not putting up with this.

He surprised her by smiling and then laughing it all off. “You sure are a spitfire.”

“An independent one.” He better believe it, too.

“I like a little fight in my women.”

He still smiled, but what he said could be construed as a taste for violence. What kind of fight did he like in his women? The kind that “made” him start swinging punches if his woman didn’t act according to his warped script? Or was she reading too much into this, into him? Maybe he was only trying to get a feel for her boundaries. His ego would love to have a woman he kept at home, but that wasn’t as much of a priority as love and family. That would be the normal way of thinking in a secure man. Abnormal would be he’d resort to domestic abuse to have it his way.

Eating their dinner was awkward and she was glad when it was over and she had her own car there.

Cam tried to lighten up the conversation by talking about other things like barbecues and sporting events. He liked going to festivals, too. She didn’t reveal anything else about herself. She wasn’t sure if she was going to see him again.

He walked her to her Subaru and when he leaned in for a kiss, she allowed a brief one.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said. “It was delicious.” And it had been.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled, liking that she’d thanked him. “I’ll call you.”

She faced her car.

“I’d like to take you to a movie when you’re free. How about next Wednesday night?”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“‘Maybe’? Did something upset you tonight?”

She sat in her car, shut the door and started the engine before rolling the window down a few inches.

He looked concerned. “All that talk about working and having a family didn’t upset you, did it? I’m sorry if it was too soon to start talking about something so serious.”

“It’s okay. I do like to take things slow.” She meant to keep things neutral for now.

“I can see that. Otherwise you’d let me pick you up at your house for these dates.”

“Thanks again.” She pulled out of the parking space and drove away, seeing in her rearview mirror that he stood there watching her. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling. There was something about him that didn’t ring true. In fact, it rang like a warning bell, one of those outdoor warning sirens cities used to signal evacuation during dangerous storms.

* * *

Just before noon the next day, Lucy walked into Kate’s room to find her sitting up on the bed. Her eyes were much clearer today and her brown hair neatly combed.

“Feeling better today?” Lucy deposited a tray of food on the bedside table and moved it over to her so she could reach it easily.

“Much better. The doctor thinks I should be able to go home in a day or two.”

“That’s wonderful.” She checked the IV fluids and found their levels right where they needed to be.

Kate picked up a spoon and investigated the bowl of chicken noodle soup. “But he says I have a long recovery ahead of me. I’ll need some home care and physical therapy.”

“That’s to be expected after being shot and nearly killed.” Had she imagined the leading tone in Kate’s voice? She went about her usual routine.

“Yes, I do suppose that’s true.”

There were more flowers and a bag of cards that the Secret Service had filtered before bringing into the room.

“It smells like a flower shop in here,” Lucy commented, adjusting a few of the vases that were too close to the edge of the deep window frame.

“That’s not even the half of it. I’ve had to donate a good portion of the deliveries.” Kate sampled a spoonful of soup. All of her meals were specially made due to tightened security.

“It’s good to know you’re loved.”

“Beats being shot.”

Lucy laughed a little. “At least your sense of humor is returning.” Kate had been shot in the abdomen. She’d undergone major surgery to repair her intestines. The bullet had narrowly missed her right kidney and a major artery. She was incredibly lucky. “Have they caught the man who shot you?”

Kate put the spoon back in the bowl, her hand a little unsteady but managing the job. The topic appeared to bring down her mood and ruin her appetite. “Not yet. How is Daniel Henderson doing?”

Lucy had checked on him before coming to the room, predicting that Kate would ask about the Secret Service agent who’d taken a bullet that would likely have finished her off. The gunman had fired four times from a building across the street from her fund-raiser. One had injured her, another had nearly killed Daniel Henderson, and the last two had hit a wall.

“He’s still in critical condition in ICU,” Lucy reluctantly said. Kate seemed to be attached to the agent.