Karen Anders - Special Ops Rendezvous

“Not exactly.”

Trey stiffened and his mouth flattened out. “Well, you’d better explain it and explain it to me good. Sam has been through enough and I won’t take anything said about him lightly.”

“I understand, sir. I’m just concerned that he’s out there alone with all that’s come to light.”

“I trust Sam with my life. He would never hurt anyone in this family, ever. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t bring this up again.”

Trey walked past him and out the library door. Dan stood there absorbing everything he’d said, but he was still not convinced that Captain Winston wasn’t somehow compromised in this whole situation. His instincts were honed and he’d almost felt that sniper even before the first bullets started to fly.

He was getting a hinky feeling about Trey’s brother.

His vow was to protect the former vice president of the United States. He didn’t answer to Trey Winston, although the man had powerful connections and could cause quite a few problems with his superiors. But Dan was never one to give a damn about chain of command. He’d taken a bullet for Kate Winston and he wasn’t about to let anything else happen to her.

Dan was going to keep his eye on Sam Winston whenever he was anywhere near his mother.

Chapter 2

Sam stepped into the foyer of his family’s estate. He paused in the hall, not sure if his mother was upstairs or down in the sitting room.

“If you’re looking for your mother, she’s out near the pool enjoying a cup of tea.”

Maddie Fitzgerald smiled at Sam, her plump face and eyes crinkling. She had been at the Adair Estate ever since Sam could remember. He adored her. She used to sneak him a chocolate chip cookie every day before dinner, saying that a strapping boy like him needed the calories and it wouldn’t at all ruin his dinner.

“I was. Thanks, Maddie.”

“How are you, Sam?”

Her sympathetic eyes roved over his face as she squeezed his forearm.

“I’m trying to just take one day at a time.”

“Best way to handle it. I just took a batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.” She winked at him. “I’ll be serving luncheon in about fifteen minutes, but I’m sure it won’t spoil your lunch.”

He laughed even though he was here to deliver very unhappy news. With all the death and betrayals they had all experienced in the past few months, the news about Dr. Owens would be taken hard.

“I’ll come by the kitchen before I leave,” he said.

Sam made his way through the house. When he got to the pool area and walked down the stairs, Agent Dan Henderson moved in front of him.

“Captain Winston? Is everything all right?”

“No, not really,” he said to the dedicated agent. He was probably about six years younger than Sam, tall, fit, his dark blond hair combed off his face, his green eyes wary and alert. He filled out his suit jacket with a pair of broad shoulders that had sheltered his mother during the shooting. Sam was humbled by the younger man who, from reports he’d heard, had selflessly and courageously thrown himself in front of his mother. The bullet had almost killed him.

“Sam.”

Sam turned around to find his brother Trey, dressed as usual in a dark gray summer-weight, impeccably cut suit with a red power tie, coming down the stairs. His wife, Debra, her belly slightly rounded with their child, was beside him.

Debra hugged him hard and didn’t let go for a few minutes. Sam indulged her. She was a good match for his brother and he was happy for them. “Hello, Debra. How are you doing?”

“Fine. We’re happy to see you, Sam. How about you?”

She clasped his upper arms after she let him go, her sweet, pretty face full of concern. She’d been working for his mother ever since she’d been in the White House. He forced a smile for her sake and said, “One day at a time.”

She nodded and let him go. He shook Trey’s hand and got a jolt to his mind as he remembered the dream when he’d fallen asleep on the delectable Olivia Marshall’s massage table. He shifted his shoulders, letting go of his brother’s hand early. Trey gave him a quizzical look, but his mother was there to interrupt Sam’s gaze as she enveloped him in a hug.

“My boy. It’s good to see you. Come sit down, all of you.”

They moved toward the small table set up on the patio, the turquoise water of the pool looked inviting even in the early spring heat.

As they settled into their chairs, Sam’s mother turned her attention to him. “Is this just a visit to see how your old mom’s doing?”

“You’ll never be old, Mom,” Sam said. “I’m here to see how you’re doing and to deliver some very upsetting news.”

“Oh, no,” Kate said, her blue eyes clouding. “What is it?”

“Dr. Owens was murdered this morning.”

“Your psychologist? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Sam. I know that he was a very good doctor.”

“He was.”

Trey studied his face. “What is it, Sam?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help thinking that this may have something to do with Mom’s assassination attempt and Mike’s...” Sam’s throat constricted. “Mike’s meltdown.”

“This is all such a terrible business and I’m so sorry all of you got so involved in it. I know my political aspirations haven’t been easy on you all.”

“You did what you thought was good for Dad’s seat and for the family. We all know that, Mom,” Sam said.

As Maddie brought the lunch down, Sam stood up to help her with the tray. He saw Dan Henderson watching him with more than just a passing interest. He was watching him like a serious, vigilant Secret Service agent.

* * *

Late morning the next day, Sam entered his local coffee shop and stepped into line. He was behind about four people when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and his gaze collided with Olivia Marshall’s.

“Well, hello there,” she said, beaming.

Even with that sudden prickling sensation back, he couldn’t help smiling at her, feeling as if his day just got a bit brighter.

She looked good today, too. Her brown eyes sparkling, her multihued hair swinging free around her beautiful face. She was dressed in a butter-yellow shirt and a pair of snug, well-worn jeans. She looked delectable and smelled delicious.

“Olivia? You following me?”

She cocked her head and gave him a wry smile. “What if I was?”

He flashed a grin. “Ah, then I might have to think you were flirting with me.” His frustration with himself and the whole freaking ordeal was finally what had driven him out of the house today.

She laughed. “Oh, Sam, if it’s not clear, I must be terrible at it.”

“No, you’re fine at it.” Damn, this woman intrigued the hell out of him. She was so at ease in her skin, which, he realized, most of the women of his acquaintance, regardless of their beauty, were not. And by not playing on it, she had somehow managed to seem all the more sensual and attractive. Which should make absolutely no sense, but the fact that he couldn’t get her out of his mind was proof enough.

“How about we share a table?” she said.

He hesitated. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck refused to go away and, in fact, only grew stronger. Instincts this strong were rarely wrong. But they were usually rooted in something substantive. There had to be more here than he was seeing. And yet, at the same time, he’d never wanted more to be wrong.

All last night—while he’d been distracting himself with a Chicago White Sox game and found it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on any of the innings for longer than a few minutes—he could only think that had to be some babe to interrupt his baseball obsession.