“What about me?” Maverick cut in from where he’d posted up in the corner. “You’re still missing me, Ms. Holloway.”
Lennon turned to him, her lips opening for a moment before closing like she wasn’t quite sure what to say. “You’re the leader. The one they call when shit hits the fan.”
Maverick gave one slow nod, but Lennon wasn’t done.
“Your grandfather also plays chess with my grandfather. That wasn’t in the file—just something I realized a few weeks ago when I finally made the connection between your last name and the Greek ambassador’s.”
That was news to us. I had no idea that Ambassador Onassis was friends with the former vice-president, though it shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. All of the old hats in D.C. seemed to be connected with each other.
Hell, they could be complete enemies in politics but the best of friends on the golf course.
“So,” Lennon said as she flopped down next to Dallas with a grin. “Pancakes tomorrow? You’re buying.”
Despite Dallas’s stormy expression a laugh bubbled out of me and bounced off of the ceiling of the room we were in.
I’d never seen someone so easily dance circles around my twin ever in my life, and if anything, it just made the little crush I had on her grow just a tiny bit more.
Which, need I remind everyone, was a completelyterribleidea.
Chapter Eight
Day of Election Event — Atlanta, Georgia
3 months until the election…
“And I told you that if it’s not explicitly built into your schedule you aren’t doing it,” I told Lennon, my face and voice deadpan as I watched her beauty team flutter around her.
Alan, the stand-in assistant, still hadn’t grown a backbone in the past few weeks. In fact, the poor beta looked like he was in the middle of forming an ulcer as his wide gaze darted in between us.
“It’s an omega center, Maverick,” Lennon said, rolling her eyes as one of the makeup artists meticulously painted a nude shade of gloss onto her lips. There had been several meetings about this shade of gloss before we left D.C. and before this I’d never known so much went into the makeup that public figures wore.
Most of the diplomats we’d protected abroad had been men who only cared if their tie was on straight.
But thought went into every inch of what Lennon wore and did every day and I was supposed to go over it all as the head of her security team.
Which was exactly why I knew that shade of gloss was calledTiramisu. I guess I was going to have to file that information away as useless once we made it back abroad, but I couldn’t get the name out of my mind as I watched her full bottom lip drop so the woman could paint the pinky-brown color on.
“It doesn’t matter. We haven’t vetted the place and you’re telling me you want to go in, what, an hour? Absolutely not.”
I had thought that after almost four weeks of being on the road with us that she would have grown used to our style of protection, but ever since we’d been forced to stop in Missouri she’d almost gotten worse.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, the other guys seemed more than happy to follow right along with Lennon Holloway’s chaos despite knowing better.
This was exactly why I made it a rule to never protect an omega. Zeke, Brooks, and even Dallas seemed utterly twitterpated by the woman in front of me and that meant they were distracted.
How the hell were we supposed to adequately protect her if they were distracted by the damned cherry wine scent that seemed to waft off of her in thick waves despite my visually watching her take her suppressants every morning.
It had gotten to the point that I’d tried to google why we might be able to smell someone even with suppressants and none of the answers were good or even ones that I would dare consider.
We were here to protect Lennon until the end of this election and then we were going back to our lives. That was that. No if, ands, or buts.
“Are you even listening to me, Agent Onassis?” Lennon asked icily, her gray eyes freezing as she glared at me.
Everyone in the room winced at the sudden sharpness of her tone.
For just a flash she looked like a mirror image of her mother, a woman who could bring entire rooms of men to their feet with one cold glance and an intense word.
“My apologies,” I blurted sheepishly, feeling heat rise up the back of my neck at being caught lost in my own thoughts. Then, after a beat, I added: “Ma’am.”
