“Shh! There’s a man across the restaurant asking about Mr. Fitzpatrick’s meeting with Senator Collins.”
I stared at her. “How does he know Sean’s meeting with the senator?”
The woman flashed a badge from her apron pocket. “Eyes and ears everywhere. Think of the hands of a clock. He would be at my three o’clock.” I gave her a subtle nod as she moved out of my line of sight.
She stepped away, and I could see she had a gun behind her back. I pulled my phone from my pocket and pretended to take pictures of the Irish pub. When I got a shot of the guy by the windows and enlarged it, I knew who it was. Marvin Thompson.
When he spotted me, I could see that he remembered me from the last time Sean had drinks with Senator Rowe. He pulled a gun from his pocket and headed in my direction. As long as he was coming at me, he wasn’t going for the man I loved.
I reached under my arm and pulled my gun, chambering a shell as I stood and headed toward him to keep him away from that private room. “Stop, Marv. You don’t want to do this,” I announced as other diners hit the floor.
“He’s going to ruin my life. I have a wife and a family, and he’s going to tell them what I did.”
A shot came from the right that wasn’t mine. Marv crumpled to the ground, and my server rushed over to him, taking his gun and cuffing him. She’d shot him in the ass, and he was writhing in pain. I equated it to how much of a pain in the ass he’d been to Sean.
“On your knees,” someone shouted, so I put my gun on the wooden floor and held my hands up. I wasn’t in the mood totangle with law enforcement. I wanted to be sure Marv was secured and no longer a threat to Sean before they took me away.
The door to the private room opened, and Sean raced out, over to me. “What the hell is going on?”
Senator Collins came out behind him, and she was immediately surrounded by her people and taken away. The folks in the restaurant were obviously Capitol police or Secret Service. I was grateful they were there. I really hadn’t wanted to kill Marv Thompson.
My server offered her hand to help me up. “You okay?”
“I’m glad I didn’t have to shoot anyone. Thank you for warning me.”
“Officer Shelly Wright, US Capitol Police. We had a tip that something was going to go down today from a blind source, so we staffed up.”
“Good call.” I pointed to my gun on the wooden floor, and she nodded. I picked it up and shoved it back into the holster.
Of course police reports had to be filed and questions had to be answered. Senator Collins had quickly been removed from the scene, but Sean and I had been stuck there for three hours.
The paramedics had taken Marv Thompson to BluePoint Hospital nearby to get the bullet out of his ass, and then he’d be going to lockup. I couldn’t begin to count the number of charges the man would face, but he’d be looking at a lot of time behind bars.
Just as we were about to leave, a guy walked up to us, flipping open a leather case to show us his credentials. “Special Agent Weston Trachtenberg. You got a minute to talk to me?” He was with the FBI, according to his badge, and he appeared to be all business.
Sean looked at me, and I nodded. We walked out of the chaos that was O’Hanlon’s Pub and went down the block to Gemma’s Diner. Once we were settled in a booth with coffees, the agentcleared his throat and pulled out his phone. “You mind if I record this? It’s only for my clarification. It won’t be released to any news outlet or included in any official reports. You have my word.”
I put my arm around the back of the booth, resting my hand on Sean’s shoulder. I couldn’t imagine what the fuck was coming at us next.
“Sure. What can we do for you?” Sean took out his phone and put it on the table. “You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”
The special agent chuckled. “Touché, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I have no problem. I admire your tenacity.”
The man then turned those piercing blue eyes on me. “You’re Jericho Hess, former Green Beret. How do you figure into this mess?”
He made a good point. “I contracted with a licensed security firm in New York.” I pulled out my license and concealed carry permit, opening my jacket to show him my gun.
“Okay.” He turned to Sean. “Mr. Thompson seems to have an unhealthy fear of you. What’s he so afraid of? What was your relationship with him?”
Sean turned to me and kissed my lips. “Can you excuse us. I don’t really want you to hear this. You know I have a past, but you don’t need it slapping you in the face. Will you give us a minute?”
His green eyes were so imploring that I couldn’t say no. I nodded and stood. “I’m going to the men’s room. I’ll be back.”
Whatever he had to tell that FBI guy, I was sure I didn’t want to hear. Knowing and hearing were two very different things.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sean
