“At the president’s barbeque in Henlopen, why?”
“Callie and Gwen, are they safe?” My God, we ran off and left our women with strangers.
“Affirmative. They’re with the Secret Service.” His answer should relieve my worries, but a sixth sense tells me we’re missing something.
As I’m about to fire off more questions, a black Mercedes pulls into the parking lot beside us. A six-foot-two man in a dark suit exits, opens the back door, and points. “Captain Lochlan? Agent Wulf? Please come with me.”
He says it politely, but I’m guessing, refusal is not an option. Twenty minutes later, the vehicle stops in front of a typical multi-million dollar beach house. If not for the secret service agents everywhere, you’d never know it belonged to one of the most powerful leaders in the free world.
After I’m relieved of my weapons at the door, the entry guard dangles the RF pistol by his thumb and forefinger. “What the hell is this?”
“Need to know, sorry. Just don’t fire it at anyone, okay?”
Outside, me and Lucky follow another of the guards to the back of the house. As we wait by the pool, Callie and Gwen join us, champagne flutes in hand.
“What the fuc-”
“Gentlemen, thanks for coming.” The Commander-in-Chiefcuts me off and holds out his right hand. “I understand you had a little trouble on the boardwalk this evening. Where do we stand?”
No longer glaring at my fiancé, I greet the president. “The drone pilot has been arrested and is being taken to DC for questioning, sir.”
“Excellent.” The seasoned statesman whispers to a nearby agent, and a few seconds later, Rhinesmith joins us.
“Yes, Mr. President?”
The elder of the two claps the congressman on the back, grips him by the shoulder, and then directs him to sit at a picnic table in front of a laptop.
“Kevin, I want you to watch something.” After he hits enter, the traitor pales as the video shows him handing a thumb drive to Stephen Bourdeau, saying, “Take him out.”
Gwen’s eyes grow immense, and she grabs Callie’s arm. “That’s the man who shot Henry.”
Eyes glued to the screen, Rhinesmith sputters, “I meant take them out to d-dinner. This is entrapment.”
Ready to put an end to this farce, I extricate the memory stick from my pants. “I bet they had a lovely meal.”
The congressman’s face turns crimson. “Give me that. You had no business taking it. It contains matters of national security.”
He spins to face the president. “Sir, I demand they return the memory stick to me at once.”
I shrug and shove it back in my pocket. “It was only a couple thousand bucks, chill out.”
“What? It contained over a half-million, you moron.” When he realizes his mistake, he waves his hands in the air as if he could erase the words off a blackboard. “I meant, I have no idea what was on it. It could have been a freakin' billion dollars. How would I know?”
“You will resign, first thing tomorrow morning.” Our angry host points to a waiting officer. “Escort my guest to the door.”
“You cannot make me. I have friends who will protect me.” As he lunges toward the president, the agent who took the EMF weapon from me at the door fires at the congressman.
When he drops, the secret service agent speaks into his headset. “We need a doctor and an ambulance. Representative Rhinesmith might be having a heart attack.”
The grim faced president leans over the writhing man. “I suggest you cooperate. Be a damn shame if you died from another one.”
Chapter 33
Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.~Nikita Gill
Gwen
Watching the ambulance drive away, Axel grabs a caviar cracker and stuffs it in his mouth. “I could eat a dozen of these. What I wouldn’t give for a burger and fries.”
