“It’s interesting.” He glances around the room, and then his brown eyes fall on me once more, flicking down to my cleavage. “It just got better.”
“Yeah, well, I think we were getting ready to head out. I need to get back to DC tonight.”
That’s a bald-faced lie. We’re staying in the city for the weekend to shop and eat at our favorite restaurants.
But Howey isn’t invited to tag along.
“Come out on the veranda with me,” Howey says, and I shake my head.
“I need the restroom.” I turn to Chelsea, who’s suddenly chatting with a woman I don’t recognize. “I’ll be back.”
“Okay, I’ll grab you some cake,” she says with a smile, and I turn to walk away.
“Lena,” Howey says, stopping me. His eyes have softened, and he reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear. “I’d really just like to talk to you.”
I sigh and back out of his reach, which makes his eyes narrow.
“You lost that right the day you smacked me across the face. Goodbye, Howey.”
I walk across the room, toward the hallway where I noticed the sign for the public restroom. My detail is right behind me, and I glance back at them, directing my comment to Richie.
“I don’t want him near me again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My detail makes me wait to enter the restroom until it’s empty, and then they stand outside the door, making sure no one can get in with me.
It’s over the top and ridiculous. It’s always driven menuts. I wonder if they can hear me pee out there. When I was a teenager, I rebelled against the security. Chelsea would talk me into ditching them all the time, which we’d do, and then go get ice cream, or go shopping. We never did anything too crazy—we just loved the adrenaline rush of losing the security guys.
And then I always got into a heap of trouble afterward.
When theincidenthappened five years ago, I put my foot down and told Chelsea we’d never do it again. Because people got hurt that day, all because of me.
And it still haunts my dreams.
Once I’ve washed my hands, I open the door and step out of the restroom, but then frown when I don’t see Richie. The new guy glances my way, and I look down the hallway.
“Where’s Richie?”
“He had to handle something.”
No, that’s wrong.
My guysneverleave my side. Not for anything.
The hair on the nape of my neck stands on end as I hold this guy’s stare.
“What did he have to handle?”
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll be right back. Your friend’s waiting for you in the car out back.”
He points with his thumb toward the opposite end of the hallway, where there’s an exit sign.
I can hear Gideon’s voice in my head. He was with me from the minute my mom took office until the night of the incident.
“Trust your gut. If something feels off, it likely is.”
My heart beats faster, but I manage to keep my face calm.
