Oath of Honor

She finished the one beer she allowed herself, but it didn’t settle her

enough to sleep. Finally, exhaustion won out and she stretched out

where she was on the couch and fell asleep in her clothes. She dreamed

of running through a tangled forest, breathless, lost, pursued by a

faceless menace coming ever closer. Roberts’s text had awakened her,

saving her from what she feared she might find—the pursuer was her

and she was running from herself.

Now, after a quick shower and two shots of espresso, she was

walking through the West Wing in her least wrinkled pair of black

trousers and her last pressed white shirt. Staffers hurried by, already

looking harried. She settled in the briefing room. There wasn’t any

coffee—must have been a very hastily assembled meeting. A minute

• 229 •

RADCLYfFE

later the door opened and Paula Stark walked in followed by a young

agent she recognized from Blair Powell’s detail, but didn’t know

personally.

“Hey,” Evyn said, nodding to Paula. Their details often overlapped

when the first daughter was traveling with POTUS. She liked Stark—

she was on top of things without being super territorial.

“Hi, Evyn. This is Randy Block.”

Evyn leaned over the table to shake hands with the new guy. “How

you doing.”

“Fine. Good to meet you.” Block looked like a typical college

jock—fair-haired, blue-eyed, strong jaw, good shoulders. A lot like

Gary, a wholesome, all-American guy. She wondered what was going

on and if Stark knew something she didn’t. But she wasn’t about to

ask. The door opened again and she expected Tom to walk in. She

barely managed to keep quiet when Wes sat down across the table from

her. “Morning,” Wes said, glancing around the table. She was wearing

charcoal pants, a crisp pale blue shirt open at the throat, and a matte

silver bracelet on her right wrist with some kind of intertwining pattern,

subtle, understated. Sexy. Her gaze passed over Evyn’s face in the same

friendly but distant fashion in which she regarded everyone else in the

room.At precisely 0600, Cameron Roberts walked in. “Morning,

everyone. Thanks for getting here on such short notice. I think the only

one needing introductions is Captain Masters, the new chief of the

White House Medical Unit.”

Stark and Block introduced themselves to Wes and they all shook

hands. Evyn wondered why Tom wasn’t there.

“This is need-to-know,” Roberts said as if reading her mind, “and

I won’t be giving you much in the way of details.”

Evyn sat still, keeping her shoulders relaxed, preventing the

tension curling around her spine from showing in her face or body.

She’d learned years ago to school herself, to never give away anything,

but it was hard with Wes only a few feet away. She had what she

wanted—an impersonal, cordial working relationship, and she hated it.

She hated that Wes would walk into a room and not seek her out first,

not connect with her in a way she didn’t connect with others. What the

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Oath Of hOnOr

fuck was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be satisfied with the way

things had always been? Why did she want things now that she’d never

wanted before? Why did Wes Masters make her yearn?

Wes looked over at her as if she had been broadcasting her

thoughts, and Evyn quickly looked away. She wasn’t certain she could

hide what she was feeling from Wes, and she didn’t want her to know

she regretted the night before. She regretted walking out. She regretted

letting Wes think she could walk away without bleeding inside.

“We need surveillance on an individual we suspect might have ties

to a domestic terrorist group that is planning an attack on POTUS.”

None of the agents moved, but the air suddenly vibrated. Evyn’s

skin tingled and her heart rate had picked up. Her groin tightened as

her senses went to full alert. Wes hadn’t moved either, and she seemed

completely composed. Why was she here? This was a security matter.

“We suspect the individual may have access to a biocontagion or

may be a contact for someone else who does. This is where Dr. Masters

comes in.”

The muscles at the angles of Evyn’s jaws clenched, and she had to

force her teeth not to grind. What was this about? Wes wasn’t trained

for this.

“The individual in question is Lieutenant Jennifer Pattee, a

member of the White House Medical Unit.” Roberts opened her

laptop and brought up an image of a woman who looked enough like

Jennifer Pattee to be her sister. “We have reason to believe she may

have connections to this woman—Angela Jones, although we doubt

that’s her given name. Jones is an employee of Eugen Corp, a private

laboratory doing viral gene research. They’ve reported an inventory

discrepancy in their Level Four lab which we believe may actually be

a stolen specimen.”

“The nature of the specimen?” Wes asked.

“Our understanding is it’s an engineered virus—a mutant form of

an avian flu virus.”

“What do we know of its properties?”