The apartment was quiet. The air so very still. As she slowly moved around the modest, one-bedroom space, she was impressed at how everything in Amy’s apartment seemed to be right in its place.
There was no mail scattered on the counter. No dirty dishes in the sink. Every throw pillow on the couch was perfectly positioned, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen.
More importantly, Amy wasn’t anywhere to be found. Which was strange, because she’d just texted Janie a couple of hours ago asking for this meeting.
Maybe she just stepped out for a second. She could be at a neighbor’s asking to borrow a cup of sugar.
Janie left Amy’s spotless bedroom and returned to the kitchen. It was so clean, she could probably eat straight from the shiny wooden floors.
She thought for a moment before pulling out her phone and dialing Amy’s number. It rang multiple times before going to voice mail. Several attempts later, Janie finally gave up.
Amy Weaver, the White House intern with a story to tell, was nowhere to be found.
CHAPTER TWO
Two days later . . .
“A little more.”
Emmett Shaw tilted the black, wooden frame in his hands a few centimeters to the right. From over his shoulder, he glanced at his teammate, Gwen. “Better?”
“Perfect.” The five-eight woman standing a few feet back flashed him a friendly smile.
“Thanks, Winslow.” He shifted to face the only female on the team. “Appreciate the assist.”
Gwendolyn “Gwen” Winslow gave a shrug. “No problem, boss.”
With her long, blonde ponytail and big, blue eyes, she looked like the quintessential girl next door. In reality, the feisty woman was a mastermind in explosives with a near-perfect shot. And from what Emmett had seen so far, Gwen also had a spine made of steel.
“Told you before, you don’t have to call me boss.”
But Gwen simply shrugged. “I know.” The corners of her lips rose a bit more. “But you have to admit, it does have a nice ring to it . . . doesn’t it?”
The way she waggled her brows made his shoulders shake with a chuckle. Okay, yeah. He had to admit, being the team’s leader felt pretty damn good.
Emmett just prayed he could live up to the title.
Gwen went to the nearest chair that made up the waiting area of their new D.C. office. She started to reach for the black leather jacket and purse she’d tossed there earlier but stopped and look back his way. “Anything else I can help with before heading out for the night?”
“Not that I can think of.” Emmett scanned the sleekly decorated office for any unfinished tasks that still needed to be completed.
Their office waiting area looked ready to roll with its black leather chairs, sleek accent tables, and the subtly colored area rug. The minimalist paintings he’d just ensured were level as they hung from the cream-colored walls added a slight pop of color with their hues of deep orange, gray, and black.
Each member of the team had finished setting up and decorating their individual offices down the hall. The conference room was ready with its long table and several chairs, and the team’s war room was equipped with the best technology money could buy.
“Looks like we’re ready to open the doors,” Gwen assessed. “Any word on whether or not Barclay will be joining us on the regular?”
Emmett gave a quick shake of his head. “Last Iheard, he’s still only agreeing to help out on an as-needed basis.”
“As needed is better than nothing, I suppose.”
It would be better if they had someone willing to commit to the team the same way he and the others had.
The office was ready.Theywere ready. And he was tired of waiting to get the show on the road.
“I spoke to McQueen this morning,” he shared with his new teammate. “He gave us the green light to open the doors, despite Barclay’s hesitation in coming on full-time.”
Jake McQueen was the founding father of the ever-expanding R.I.S.C. empire. The acronym for the elite, private security corporation stood for rescue, intel, security, and capture. And it summed up perfectly what Emmett and the other numerous R.I.S.C. operators across the country had been hired to do.
