Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

of business, she’d instantly missed their brief but unexpectedly intense

connection.

Evyn’s slip when Chang was mentioned made it pretty clear she

didn’t think Wes was the right person for her new job. Ordinarily Wes

didn’t concern herself with what anyone other than her commanding

officers felt about her and her performance, but it bothered her that

Evyn didn’t believe she had earned the post. What Evyn thought

mattered, personally and professionally, so she was going to have to

prove to Evyn she was capable of the job. After all these years, she’d

thought she was past that. She hadn’t needed or wanted to prove herself

to anyone in a long time.

The day had been full of surprises, mostly unwelcome ones. She

hadn’t felt so displaced since she’d left home for the Naval Academy

and had been cut loose from her strongest support system as abruptly as

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Oath Of hOnOr

a blade across her throat. At first, she’d missed her mother’s unwavering

belief in her and her sisters’ humor so much she’d thought she might

break. She hadn’t broken. She’d reached inside herself and found their

voices alive and strong in her heart. She’d adapted, she’d adjusted, and

she’d triumphed. Now she was back in unknown waters, with no place

to live, a new command, and, apparently, the need to prove herself to

Evyn Daniels.

v

Evyn’s push was waiting at the House when the motorcade from

Andrews pulled into the south drive. Tom had texted they’d debrief in

the morning. As soon as POTUS was on his way into the residence,

she was done. She headed toward the west gate and the Ellipse where

she’d parked her car. Up ahead, she recognized Masters walking toward

Pennsylvania Avenue. She hesitated, giving her time to get ahead of

her. In the next second, she sped up, refusing to think about why.

“Hey,” Evyn called, catching up to Wes at the corner. “You need

a ride?”

Masters looked at her, clearly surprised, making Evyn feel like a

bigger jerk for even thinking about leaving her to fend for herself in the

middle of the night. But Wes made her so damn uncomfortable—she

didn’t know what she was doing. “I’ve got a car.” Now there was a

fairly brainless statement. “Let me take you.”

“Thanks,” Masters said. “I’m okay. I’ll grab a cab. I’m just going

across town to a hotel.”

“It’s almost twenty-three thirty, Captain. Not a great time of night

to get a cab in this part of town, and definitely no time to be out and

about alone.”

Masters laughed. “It’s Wes, remember? Do you think I need

protection?”

Glad for the cover of dark to hide the flush that heated her cheeks,

Evyn said, “I’m positive you don’t. But I can’t see any reason for you

to freeze your ass off out here.”

“It’s twenty-five degrees,” Wes pointed out. “Not that cold.”

Evyn snorted and watched her breath frost in the air. Obviously,

Wes was from somewhere north of the Mason-Dixon Line. “It’s about

fifty degrees colder than I like it.”

• 45 •

RADCLY f FE

Wes laughed harder, a deep, mellow sound that warmed Evyn’s

stomach in a totally unexpected and not unwelcome way.

“What are you doing up here, if you hate the winter so much?”

Wes asked.

Evyn jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat. The

conversation was verging on the personal, and she was out of her

element in more ways than the weather. She didn’t even talk about this

sort of thing when she was trying to connect with a woman for the

night. And this was twice in one day with Wes. She shrugged. “This is

the detail I wanted, so the weather is part of the job.”

“The president is something of a skier too, isn’t he?”

“POTUS, his daughter—regular snow bunnies. It’s unnatural.”

God, she hated those ski trips, not that she’d ever let on.

“Obviously, you love your job.”

“Yeah,” Evyn said, meaning it, but Wes didn’t need to know that.

Wes didn’t need to know anything at all about her. Time to shut down

the information highway.

“Are you hungry?” Wes asked.

“Uh—yeah, for me, it’s dinnertime.”

“Well, I left my quarters at zero six hundred this morning, and the

only thing I’ve had all day is coffee and little things that look like food

but are really just a tease.”

Evyn grinned. “Hors d’oeuvres. I don’t even think they count as

food.”“How about dinner somewhere, then?”

“I could eat.” Evyn had the sudden sensation she was walking

into a landmine, but Wes was just smiling at her. Friendly. Just a simple

meal between coworkers. Safe enough. “Okay. Sure.”

“Good. You know the area. You pick the place, Agent.”

“It’s Evyn.”

“Okay. Evyn.”

“Come on, I can’t feel my feet.” Evyn led the way to her ’57

T-Bird, keying the alarm as they approached.

“Nice car,” Wes said.

“The last of the classic design. I inherited it from my older

brother.”

Wes shot her a concerned look.

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Oath Of hOnOr

“Not that way—Aaron is fine. He just decided the T-Bird wasn’t

dignified enough for a feeb.”

“He’s FBI?”

Evyn climbed behind the wheel and started the engine, waiting for

Wes to belt up before backing out. “Yeah. The shame of our family, but

we still love him.”

“Ah, let me guess. Government service is a family thing?”

“You could say that.” Evyn hesitated, impressed by and a little

wary of Wes’s ability to hear more than she said. She’d have to be

careful around her. “My father’s ATF, my aunt’s IRS, my younger

brother’s ICE, and the next oldest went army. We’ve got a few more

agencies covered with the cousins.”

“That’s a heavy legacy to inherit.”

“Not so much.” Evyn shrugged and turned onto Pennsylvania

Avenue, passing by the House, leaving the glowing lights behind,

and headed north toward Dupont Circle. The streets were dark, nearly

deserted. “Wasn’t hard for me—I always knew what I wanted to do.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah I do, except—”

“—for the cold.”

Laughing, Evyn looked over and tripped into Wes’s eyes. Under

the streetlights, the green of her eyes darkened to the deep hues of a

hidden glade in the heart of the forest. Splinters of moonlight carved

out the elegant arch of her cheekbones and pooled in the hollow of her

throat. Jesus. She was beautiful. Fixing back on the street, she said

tightly, “You want fancy, or plain, simple, and good?”

“I don’t need frills,” Wes said. “But good, yeah. That matters.”

“Not one for show, is that it?” Casual, she could do casual. And

distant. She needed distance. She had to train her, for Chrissake, and

don’t forget Peter. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“The only thing I care about,” Wes said as Evyn turned up

Connecticut, “is getting the job done.”

“So how come you’re teaching and not…you know, doing?” When

silence ensued, she glanced over and figured from the rigid set of Wes’s

jaw she probably could have phrased that a little more diplomatically.

Well, she’d wanted distance. Now she had it. How come it didn’t feel

so good? “Sorry. I take it that was an insult of some kind?”

• 47 •

RADCLY f FE

Wes blew out a breath and eased back in her seat. “No, it’s not

an insult. I’m not ashamed to spend most of my time teaching. I do

my share in covering the ER in rotation, but I have a certain knack

for teaching and I like it. The way things have been going the last few

years, more troops see combat. War has changed. New weapons and

new ways of fighting mean new types of injuries. If our medics aren’t

fully prepared for the kinds of battlefield causalities they’ll face, troops

die. I figure this is the best way for me to see that doesn’t happen.”

“I get that,” Evyn said softly.

“What you do is totally different,” Wes said. “For you, it’s a lot

more personal.”

“Personal?” Evyn gripped the wheel harder, uncomfortable with

the shift of focus back to her. Her hold on the whole night was slipping.

She should be on her way home to Alexandria to get some much-

needed sleep. Or maybe she just needed some human contact of the

sexual variety—too late for a club, but she still had a few women in her

little black book who would take her call no matter how late. Instead

of either safe option, she was on her way out to eat with a woman who

lured her into unfamiliar territory so smoothly she never noticed until

she was floundering for direction. “I, ah, don’t know about personal.

I’m doing my job. It’s what I’m trained to do.”

“True,” Wes said, “but what you do in a split second has an

immediate and critical impact. Whatever effect I might have is at a

distance…months, possibly years later…when a young medical student

or resident saves a life because of something I taught them.”

“And that’s enough for you?” Evyn couldn’t help asking, although

she knew she should be searching for some vacuous topic like the

Redskins’ standing in the playoffs. She pulled to the curb in front of

Circa and swiveled on the seat to face Wes across the narrow divide.

“Just taking on faith that down the line, somewhere, sometime…?”

“For me, it’s the long game. I’m not looking for immediate

gratification.”

“Yeah, well.” Evyn cut the engine. “I don’t look much past the

moment. Not in my nature.”

“I guess that makes us different,” Wes said quietly.

“Like night and day.”

• 48 •

Oath Of hOnOr

chapter six

Senator Franklin Russo glanced at the brass clock on his desk.

Nine p.m. Headlights flickered through the trees along the

approach road to his Idaho mountain retreat, alerting him to a vehicle

arriving. Hooker was punctual. He expected that of those who worked

for him. That and absolute, unquestioning loyalty.

The doorbell rang and a moment later a soft knock sounded on his

study door.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and his personal aide Derek Sullivan, a

thin young blond in khaki pants and a starched striped shirt, said, “Mr.

Hooker is here, sir.”

“Good. Have him come in.”

A heavyset middle-aged man with a thick brown mustache flecked

with gray strode in. His snow-crusted work boots left muddy streaks on

the wide pine plank floors. His broad, rough face was ruddy from the

subzero temperatures.

“Close the door, Derek,” Franklin said, “and see that we’re not

disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Derek backed out and pulled the door shut.

“Hooker,” Franklin said, “what do you have to report?” He didn’t

offer Hooker a seat. The man was a hired gun, muscle. Necessary, but

not part of his inner circle. He paid him well, and that was all that

mattered.

“I’ve got a contact with the connections we need in DC,” Hooker