Fifteen minutes later, Leo returns to the room. I’m guessing he might have actually run to make it to the residence and back as quickly as he did. I shrink against the wall, thinking he is going to walk between me and Elliot, but he doesn’t. He circles around the far side of the table, sets her plate in front of her, and then steps back behind Kev.
Watching me.
Fuck, the man looks good. Maybe some exhaustion, but they did just return from three weeks bouncing around the globe.
It’s about fifteen minutes later when my attention snaps back and I realize Leo has, in fact, eased his way around behind the president, and is now standing only feet away from me. I can even smell him and fight the urge to lean toward him.
I can’t let myself do that.
I cannot.
But that’s not what really caught my attention.
They’ve started playing the video posted by the terrorists on one of the monitors behind the president. She swivels her chair around so she can watch, Elliot turns his sideways, too, and all eyes are glued on the monitor.
For a moment, I watch Leo, the tense set of his jaw, and can almost tune out the forced dispassion in the translator’s voice as the man interprets the captor’s words.
I can almost not pay attention to the terror on the kidnapped man’s face as he kneels in the dirt with several masked men looming behind him, while in accented English he reads a statement that they’ve ordered him to read.
I can almost not pay attention to the large blade—is that afuckingsword?—in the one captor’s hands.
There’s more speaking by the captor, translated by the guy standing on the other side of the table.
But from the way Leo’s jaw clenches a split second before the translator speaks, I realize he understands what’s being said.
I wish I’d kept my attention on Leo and not let it drift to the monitor again. Everyone in the room flinches when the sword is raised and swiftly descends.
I realize I must have gasped or said something. I don’t know, because from the roaring in my ears, I think a train’s about to blast through the room.
Oh, wait, is this…bad? Because I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.
Kev’s sharp, clipped voice pierces through my mind. “Leo.”
I think me, Leo, and Elliot all focus on Kev at the same time. Then both Elliot and Leo look at me, where I’m now white-knuckling my travel mug and trying not to give in to the overwhelming urge to faint.
“Jor,” Elliot whispers, and I struggle to pull my focus onto him as I raggedly saw gasping breaths into my lungs.
I step to his side, leaning in close as me motions to me. “Mister Vice President?”
“Go take a few,” he whispers, his fingers briefly squeezing my left wrist, where my bracelet is hidden by my shirt and blazer. “Then come back. It’s okay.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mister Vice President.”
Somehow, this bitch doesn’t run, but I’m not so sure I don’t levitate. I do my damnedest, however, to beat a dignified, power-walking retreat from the room.
I scoop our cell phones from the locker with trembling hands and wait until I’m outside in the hallway to start jogging toward the stairs.
What I want to do is puke in the nearest garbage can.
What Ineedto do is hold it until I’m locked in Elliot’s private bathroom in his office. I slide the phones into my blazer pockets and move with all due haste and then some.
Behind me, I hear the door to the SitRoom open.
“Jordan, hold up.”
Leo.
I’m five feet from the bottom of the staircase, and I do believe I made it in one leap.
