Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

should be the end of the formalities.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wes rose. “As I said, I’ll be reviewing the president’s

chart today. I would like to examine him at his earliest convenience.”

“Really?” Lucinda studied her. “Why? Everything is in his

records.”

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“That may be, but if I’m going to be his doctor, I need to perform

a baseline physical examination and make my own assessment.”

“You don’t trust your predecessor?”

“I don’t know him,” Wes said. “But in any case, I wouldn’t presume

to take care of someone I had never examined. It’s not good medicine.”

She hesitated, seeing the consternation in Lucinda Washburn’s eyes.

She imagined the president was incredibly busy, and finding time to

meet with her would probably be incredibly inconvenient. “In my

experience, high-profile patients often get poor care. Physicians and

everyone else involved are reluctant to inconvenience them. Things

get overlooked. That’s not fair to any patient, but it certainly is not

appropriate for the president of the United States. In light of everything

you’ve told me, it’s imperative I judge his status for myself.”

“I understand. I’ll see that it’s scheduled as soon as possible.”

Lucinda extended her hand and Wes took it. “Welcome to the House,

Captain.”

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chapter eight

Evyn hadn’t slept much in the last few days, and she needed a

coffee refill to keep her focused during the routine after-review

of the wedding detail and the rest of the uneventful morning briefing.

Trying not to look distracted, she sloshed milk into her Starbucks

venti cup, added the always-good coffee the valets kept fresh in their

command center, and settled back at the conference table with the other

members of the day shift. She wasn’t herself and couldn’t figure out

what was off. Usually a brisk shower, a fast fantasy, and a hard orgasm

cleared her head for the day, but this morning, she’d opened her eyes

and immediately replayed the evening with Wes—and the details that

came to mind had nothing to do with the job. She kept stumbling over

the way Wes concentrated on her when they talked, as if they had all

night, the way Wes smiled at something Evyn said, her eyes glowing.

And her mouth—God, she had a killer mouth—full lips, broad smile, a

tiny lift on the right side that gave her a hot, sexy, rakish look. Evyn’s

stomach tightened into a hard knot and a quick pulse beat between her

thighs. She sucked in a breath. Whoa. Bad timing—where was that rush

two hours ago when she could have taken care of it? She slugged her

coffee, burned her tongue, and choked.

When she looked over, Gary was staring at her with laughter in

his eyes. She tossed him a get bent look, and he smothered a grin. He

always claimed he could read her mind, but she assured him he was

wrong, remarking if he could, he’d be walking around with a perpetual

boner and he should be so lucky.

Agents rose and started to leave the room, the midnight shift

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heading home and the rest to their posts. Evyn grabbed her black trench

coat and coffee.

“Evyn,” Tom Turner said. “Hang on a minute, will you.”

“Sure.” Evyn dropped her coat onto a chair and tossed the empty

paper cup into a nearby wastebasket. Gary hesitated, glanced at Tom,

and followed the rest out, muttering, “Catch you later,” as he left.

When the room was empty, Tom closed the door and gestured for

her to sit.

Her antennae went up. She couldn’t think of anything she’d done

that could be problematic. She wasn’t the most senior member of PPD,

but over the last year she’d sort of become Tom’s unofficial sounding

board. She’d sat in the right front seat of the follow-up car a time

or two, and had taken the lead when POTUS traveled. That level of

responsibility told her she was doing okay, or at least she thought she

had been. She waited for Tom to start, banishing a mild case of nerves,

a wholly atypical reaction for her.

“Are you set to bring Masters up to speed?” Tom sat across from

her and leaned back in his chair.

“She’s still clearing security but should be done sometime today.

I’ll meet with her later and set up a schedule.” Evyn’s pulse jittered at

the mention of Wes’s name, also unusual. She rarely showed a bump in

her blood pressure or her pulse, even during simulated actions. She’d

been preparing for this job since she was a kid, and she’d taught herself

not to react when something hurt, or scared her, or excited her. She kept

her cool. She wanted to be ice in an emergency. She usually was. But

just a reference to Wes Masters had her composure melting around the

edges. That couldn’t be good. She needed to clamp a lid on that.

“I had a call from Averill Jensen before the briefing this morning,”

Tom said.

Evyn tensed at the mention of the president’s security adviser.

The USSS answered only to the Director of Homeland Security—on

paper—but Jensen had sweeping authority in security matters. “About

We—Captain Masters?”

“Indirectly.”

Evyn couldn’t believe there was an issue with Wes Masters. She’d

only just met Wes, but she’d spent time with her, more personal time

than she’d spent with anyone in years, except the agents who’d just left

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this room. And they hadn’t just talked about business. They’d talked

about life. Wes was solid. She was dedicated and focused, all the way

through. Evyn clamped her molars together and kept her mouth shut.

She needed to listen, and to do her job. Right now, the best thing she

could do for Wes Masters was find out what the hell was going on.

“They went outside to bring her in,” Tom said, “and on the face of

it, that’s not that unusual. What’s unusual is that with O’Shaughnessy’s

sudden death, they didn’t move someone up from inside as interim

director while they put the nominees through the selection process.”

“I know.” Just a few hours with Wes had blunted some of Evyn’s

anger that Peter had been passed over, but she still didn’t think it was

right. Wes wasn’t at fault for that, at least not as far as she knew. “Did

somebody pull strings to get her appointed? Pressure someone? Is that

it?” “No.” Tom’s smooth brow wrinkled, which for him was akin to

shouting. He was the epitome of control. He just didn’t get rattled,

especially if he was angry or frustrated. Something serious was going

on if Tom was unsettled. “Masters was brought in because she’s a

qualified outsider. There seems to be some concern that we have a leak

inside.”

“A leak?” Evyn took a second to let that sink in. “You mean

someone in the House is passing information?”

“Communications analysts have been pulling snippets from

surveillance tapes—routine Internet sweeps—that suggest potentially

hostile groups might know plans we haven’t made public.”

“Jesus,” Evyn said. “And they think it’s in the medical unit?”

“They don’t know—could be anywhere—the medical unit, the

West Wing, our group—”

“Us? Oh, come on, that’s just not possible. At the very least,

someone is talking who shouldn’t be because they’re damn idiots—

which excludes all of us. Worst-case scenario, someone is working with

domestic or foreign hostiles. And that sure as hell isn’t one of us.”

Tom stared at her. “You believe it and I believe it, but that doesn’t

mean everyone else does. Let’s not forget Robert Hanssen. He went

undetected for decades.”

“We’re not the FBI,” Evyn said dismissively. You believe it and I

believe it… “Wait a minute. You’re not saying that Wes—Dr. Masters

is looking at us ?” Was that what prompted the dinner invitation and the

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prolonged after-dinner conversation? She remembered every word that

had passed between them, and she couldn’t remember Wes bringing

up anything probative. All the same, the invitation had come out of

nowhere. Her heart plummeted. “Hell.”

“I doubt that—not her job description. All the same, we can’t really

be sure what we haven’t been told.” He grimaced, clearly not happy.

“Given the threat level, Masters has to be aware of the situation.”

“Well, we better be sure she’s ready to carry the ball,” Evyn said.

“That’s your job. In the meantime, we need to button down

everything on our end. I want you to watch communications carefully.

Make sure our analysts are looking for anything, no matter how small,

that gets picked up from sources under surveillance.”

She nodded sharply. “You got it.”

“She’s due for a polygraph. Pick her up and take her over. Sit in

on it.”“I’m not certified—”

“I know—Preston will run it. You can play backup.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And for now, all of this is just between us.”

“Yes, sir,” Evyn said softly. She didn’t want to believe that anyone

inside the White House could be compromising the president by

inadvertently mishandling information. But to do it willfully? To her,

there was no greater sin. Wes couldn’t think her capable of that, could

she?

v

Wes left Lucinda’s office and walked out into the waiting area.

Evyn Daniels stood with a stone-faced man in a dark suit who regarded

her with unsmiling eyes. Wes looked at Evyn. “Good morning, Agent

Daniels.”

“Captain,” Evyn said politely, nothing but professional friendliness

in her eyes. “This is Agent Preston.”

Wes quickly squelched a wave of disappointment at the formal

tone. Business as usual. Last night was a thing of the past, and after

what Lucinda had just told her, business as usual was all there could be

for her with anyone on the job. She wasn’t here to make friends. She

nodded to Preston. “You’ll be doing the testing?”

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“That’s right,” Preston said. “If you come this way, we’ll tell you

about it once we get settled.”

Wes followed them down the hall and into a small room with

several windows that looked out over another expanse of lawn studded

with rose bushes. The room was crowded with a conference table, eight

chairs, and a row of bookshelves underneath the window. A file cabinet

stood in one corner and a polygraph machine rested in the center of

the table. She sat down across from it. Evyn and Preston sat facing the

machine.

“The way this works,” Preston said, “is that the test is given in two

parts—part one will cover some basic informational questions. Then

we’ll move on to part two with more focused questions. Have you ever

had a polygraph?”

“No.”