Oath of Honor

PAs. Not a huge group considering they covered the clinic for White

House staffers, visitors, and guests, oversaw routine and urgent care

for the president’s and vice president’s families, and accompanied the

president on all scheduled and OTR trips. “That makes for some pretty

intense scheduling.”

“It can get hectic.”

“We can pull personnel from Bethesda if we need to?”

Peter shifted slightly and met her gaze. “You can do pretty much

anything you want to do, Captain. It’s your show.”

She searched his eyes, looking for resentment or resistance or

• 29 •

RADCLYfFE

challenge. He was in his late thirties, about her height, clean-shaven

with a wiry build, and dressed in a navy suit, a plain pale blue shirt, and

a thin black tie. His straight, glossy dark hair was precisely parted on

the right side, and a thick shock fell over his forehead. His eyes were

chocolate brown, steady and calm. Understated, composed, with a hint

of reserve—he didn’t know her, and she was now his boss. She’d need

his cooperation, if not assistance, to make the transition a smooth one

and to ensure the team continued to function at top efficiency. Too much

was at stake for anything less. Taking a chance that professionalism

would trump personal issues, she exposed her underbelly. “Who do I

answer to, unofficially?”

The guy whose job she’d probably taken smiled. “Pretty much no

one, except the president’s chief of staff. Lucinda Washburn runs his

schedule, which means she runs pretty much everything. If you need

something that affects the president, ask her. Next in line is the head of

his personal protection detail, Tom Turner.” Peter scanned the room.

“He’s around here somewhere—tall, thin African American, about

forty. He’ll provide our weekly itinerary and general assignments,

updated every morning at briefing.”

At the mention of the Secret Service detail, Wes thought of Agent

Daniels. She’d struck Wes as being a little humorless and a short step

away from unfriendly—a lot like some of the military police she

knew. Maybe that was just an occupational trait in closed groups with

little regard for outsiders. “Where exactly do we fall in the chain of

command?”

Peter waggled his hand. “We have to liaise with the Secret Service

pretty intimately, because when he moves, they move, and we go with

them.”“Separate but equal?”

He shrugged. “That’s not exactly how they see it but, technically,

yes. If a situation impacts his physical security, they carry the ball. If it

has to do with his medical safety, we do.”

“And if we disagree?”

He smiled for the barest second. “Depends on who has the biggest

bark.”“Or bite?”

“That too.”

• 30 •

Oath Of hOnOr

Wes sighed inwardly. She hated politics. What the hell had she

been thinking?

v

Evyn made her way along the veranda to the rear of the house,

where they’d set up their command post. After four hours outside in

the wind and cold, she was ready for a cup of coffee or ten. She had

no idea how much longer they’d be stuck out here in the ass-end of

nowhere, but she was pretty sure she’d be outside again before they

left. Departure time was fluid, depending on how long the postnuptial

celebrations went on. It didn’t matter much to her. Other than being

outside in the damn cold, she didn’t care how long she worked. The

more she worked, the more overtime she made and the less free time

she had to figure out how to fill until her next shift. There was only so

much after-work socializing she could do with the other members of

the detail, only so many movies she could watch while rattling around

her apartment in Alexandria, and only so much clubbing she could take

in search of a few hours’ company.

There had been less and less of the last diversion lately. Sometimes

the effort just didn’t seem worth the payoff. She enjoyed the physical

anticipation as she got dressed to go out and drove to one DC club or

another. The tingle in her belly while she spent a few hours nursing a

drink and scanning the room for possibilities kept her mind occupied

too. Anything that got her adrenaline surging felt good, and it was

hard to complain about sex in any fashion, but more and more when

the night was done and she drove home alone after leaving some near

stranger’s bed at oh-dark-thirty, she felt dissatisfied. Physically sated

maybe, but with the nagging feeling whatever she’d been hoping to

find, she hadn’t.

So on those more and more frequent nights when she was at loose

ends, the best thing that could happen would be a text telling her the

duty roster had changed once again and she had to report for an extra

shift, or POTUS had decided on an early-morning run and they needed

more bodies to go with him. She never minded.

A couple of her fellow agents were married, and they griped and

grumbled about the frequent changes in the rotation, although not

• 31 •

RADCLYfFE

so loud anyone higher up could hear them. After all, they did have

the premier protection detail. What could be more important than