“Impressive in what way?”
Okay, this is getting weird.
Didn’t he know more about them than she did? Hadn’t he been with the president when she handpicked the men on the team? Didn’t he send his own daughter to work for them?
She was tempted to cover her hesitation with another uhhh. But that would make her sound dumb and make him annoyed at the delay. Instead, she cocked her head and twisted her mouth as if trying to find the right words to capture her thoughts.
“They’re more cohesive and tight-knit than I thought they’d be. Not just cohorts and colleagues, but family.”
His eyes narrowed. It was slight. But she saw it. And it deepened her discomfort.
He was probing her.
But for what?
What was he after?
“And were they successful in bringing their social media guru home?”
She blinked in surprise. “I…don’t know. I thought you would know. Haven’t they checked in?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Again, it was slight. But again, she saw it. “They have not.”
“Is that…um…unusual for them?” she asked carefully.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, voice low. “Did anything odd happen while you were there?”
She swallowed. But the spit stuck in her throat.
“I think the entire concept of a private security firm working directly for the president while hiding their identities behind the façade of a custom bike shop is pretty odd. Are you looking for something more specific than that?” She forced a small smile to lessen the tension in the air.
He didn’t return the gesture. “Did they determine why the woman was taken?”
She thought of the message sent from Kerberos. But something in her gut warned her not to mention it.
“She was taken for the money, I assume. Why else?”
His frown deepened.
“Sir, is there something in particular you’re driving at? I feel like?—”
“Call them.”
“What?” Her chin jerked back so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash.
“Call them and ask them if their mission was successful. You spent the day with them. It’d be natural for you to want to know how things turned out.”
“I…” she faltered. “I don’t know any of their numbers. I don’t have?—”
“Call their business line.” He waved a dismissive hand, as if that made everything so simple.
“But I thought you didn’t want any correspondence coming from the White House? Isn’t that why I had to fly?—”
“Don’t get into specifics.” He cut her off, clearly exasperated that he needed to explain himself. “Just ask if they were successful and leave it at that.”
Lura nodded jerkily and slowly backed out of the office, but her mind was absolutely spinning.
Why ask her to call and demand details when they reported to him…er…the president, but also him by proxy? Why not just pick up the phone himself?
