Three other agents suddenly come around the corner and hang by the doorway giving muted directions on walkie-talkies as the first man glares at Hunter.
“Do you have any idea how close I just came to shutting this whole Goddamn city down when you didn’t respond? What the hell were you doing back here? You’re supposed to be watching her-”
“He was, agent,” I say, quickly jutting in. “I was a little eager to see the Etruscan marble works, and I tripped on this one in the dark. Agent Ryan was just helping me up when you came in, and I must have knocked his earpiece out when I fell.” I smile as sweetly as I can, suddenly wondering if Secret Service agents are trained to know a lie when they see it.
Probably.
But I brush that thought away and hold his gaze, even ignoring Hunter when he grins at me over the man’s shoulder and gives an “O.K.” sign.
“Agent Ryan didn’t even want me to come in here, but I was being stubborn, and I knew that the wing was closed off anyways so I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”
The older agent’s face is back to neutral as he stiffly holds my gaze. “You shouldn’t go off schedule and off a planned route like this, Ms. Adams.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
The man seems satisfied with my answer, but then he turns to Hunter and gets in his face again.
“Just because the rest of the force hasn’t been made aware of your impending situation, don’t think for a second that I’d keep you on the force after a stunt like this if you weren’t as connected, shall we say, to the President.” He clears his throat as he turns to the other three by the door. “Let's get moving.” He turns back to Hunter. “Do your damn job, agent.”
12.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m talking to someone inside the White House!”
I grin and roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah, Jess, did I mention my mom was running for President? I thought maybe you’d seen something about it on local news or something.”
“Cute, very cute,” my friend says with a laugh over the phone. “So, how is it?”
“Big? White?” I shrug. “Boring, unexciting.” I hope the last part I say is convincing enough as I try to shove the memory of Hunter’s body pressed against mine and the wonderful and illicit thrill that rushed through me the other day in the secret hallway, or in the museum the day before.
“Oh, and bugged; this call is most likely being recorded, by the way.”
Yeah, my cell phone? Gone. Now I’ve got a special one that routes directly through some sort of internal server, so they can monitor it for threats or something. Remember how I said this was a place where it was impossible to keep secrets in? Big brother is very much watching.
Eww, phrasing.
“Ooo, spooky,” Jessica says dramatically on the other end of the phone. “Hello, C.I.A.!” She says with a laugh.
“Secret Service.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the Secret Service listening, well, potentially listening; not the C.I.A.”
“Oh I see,” Jess snorts. “And are they servicing you, miss White House?”
I can feel my cheeks get hot as my thoughts instantly go the day before at the museum, even though of course she’s just teasing me and isn’t actually insinuating anything. But of course, thinking of Hunter only gets me flustered.
No, wrong. Get that out of your head. There’s a moment of gripping panic and fear, as if the phone tap can somehow read my terrible thoughts as well, even though I’m ninety-nine percent positive that’s not a thing.
It’s not, right?
I force the thought of Hunter’s wicked grin and smirking, blue eyes out of my head.
“Jess, you have a one-track mind, you know,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“So? It’s a good track, Mads, you should try it sometime.” She snorts. “Actually, I believe you did try it out after I finally got you to come with me that night. And if that freaking glow was any indication when I saw you later, I’d say you thought it was a pretty good track t-”
“Jess!” I hiss, panic shooting through me. “The phone? Other ears? Remember?”
“Right, right, sorry.” She snickers. “Wouldn’t want to excite those poor, hot, uniformed, Secret Service guys.”
Stop thinking about Hunter in uniform; just stop it.
“Hah, yeah, right.”