“Why were you the only one who saw—?”
“He wasn’t,” Cleo said. “Agent Malone, I saw it, too. I just didn’t… My body just stood there.” From the sounds of the performance behind him, Ethan was sure Cleo Barnes was crying. The Secret Service agent—at least that’s who Ethan assumed the man was because he hadn’t precisely introduced himself to the group—shot Cleo a glare. “That’s why I know they’re not involved in this.”
“And you, Mr. Bond, did you see the dot?”
Ethan hesitated momentarily, then said, “From the direction I was standing, I didn’t see it. I saw Blayne react and follow suit to protect the First Lady.”
“You realize that makes little sense,” the agent said. “Why would you just react when Mr. Dickenson moved?”
“Because he wouldn’t move like that unless something was wrong. After what we’ve been through, we’ve both been hypervigilant.”
“Oh dear, that’s totally understandable,” Cleo said, coming to sit down at the table. She put her arm around Ethan’s shoulders and shot the agent a death glare. “Now, can we get these off them?”
Ethan could tell the agent wanted to object but acquiesced. The agent behind Ethan said, “Please stand.” Ethan stood. Another agent removed Blayne’s cuffs. Ethan rubbed his wrists.
He turned to Cleo. “Is everyone okay? I saw a…” His voice trailed off because he couldn’t finish the sentence.
“An intern was shot,” Agent Malone said. “There were also several people in the press corps that were shot. And the Secret Service stopped a van carrying explosives that was attempting to crash into the White House.”
“And the sniper?” Blayne asked. His face had gone white. “Did you catch the sniper?”
The agent looked at Blayne. “How do you know it was a sniper?”
Cleo looked at the agent. “Are you that dense? Do you even know why these men are here today?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Mr. Dickenson single-handedly stopped a sniper from killing people in Houston.”
“I heard something about that on the news,” Agent Malone admitted.
“Well, this man risked his own life to confront the sniper in Houston. And today, he risked his life to save my husband. And you”—she turned to Ethan—“you risked your life to save me.” A tear welled in her eye. “These are true American heroes.”
Ethan looked across the table at Blayne, whose face fell into a weary grimace, his eyes rolling upward as if to say, ‘Not again.’
“We just reacted,” Ethan said, “like anyone would. If Blayne hadn’t been standing and looking at the President at the right time…” He didn’t need to spell out what could have happened.
“Just be glad, by some trick of fate, they were looking in the right direction. Now, go check on my husband. I’m sure he needs you more than I do. And get these two men their family and friends back in here. I’m sure they’re worried sick—the way you and your men overreacted.”
“They didn’t overreact,” Blayne said. “Given what they knew, their reaction seemed perfectly justified. I was lucky. It’s the second time I’ve been in the right place at the right time. They took immediate action to save everyone. They’re the genuine heroes here.” Blayne looked at the agent and said, “Thank you.”
Agent Malone looked uncomfortable briefly before saying, “You’re welcome. Just doing our jobs.” He stood and motioned for the other two agents to leave with him.
“I’m going to stay with our guests,” Cleo said, resting her hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Can you have the kitchen send something over?”
The agent grumbled something as he shut the door.
Cleo let out a groan. “Was asking for food and drink a bit over-the-top?”
“Probably,” Blayne said.
“Well, you’re the one who blew so much smoke up Agent Malone’s ass, he was practically a chimney. I guess neither of us is that great at being subtle.” She walked around the table and slumped into the chair where the agent had been sitting moments before.
“So, what really happened?” Cleo asked, turning to look at Blayne.
“I got a text.” Blayne patted his suit jacket. “Fuck, I don’t know where my phone went.”
“This one?” Cleo asked, pulling a cell phone from her cleavage. “Sorry. Women’s suits aren’t usually made with pockets. I saw it when they pulled you off the President. My bra was the first place I thought to hide it.” She slid it across the table.
