Chapter 12

CHAPTER12

Terrie handed Marin an overnight bag with clothes and toiletries the housekeeper kept in the White House for unexpected guests.

“It’s going to be okay,” she promised as she hugged Marin tightly. “Griffin will take care of this. You can trust him.”

Griffin was the last person Marin trusted right now. But since a guy with a knife was bent on harming her, Marin figured she didn’t have much choice in the matter. Clearly, Not-So-Special-Agent Keller did whatever it took to catch his man or woman—even if it meant seducing them. At least Griffin’s hunger for justice was one consolation for being dictated to by the arrogant man.

They made the trip to the safe house in one of the armored SUVs the Secret Service used to transport the president incognito. Marin was ushered out of the residence so quickly, she didn’t get to say good-bye to the First Family.

“The president and his family have been sequestered until we complete a sweep of the White House,” Adam explained, as if reading her thoughts. “But both he and Mrs. Manning are very concerned for your safety.”

Marin nodded before directing her gaze out the window. She jumped when her cell phone rang in her pocket. “Please be Diego,” she murmured.

It wasn’t. Ava’s face popped up on the screen. Adam snatched her phone out of her hands before she could answer it.

“Sorry,” he said. “But you’re going to have to cut off all contact for now.”

“But my family!”

“Your parents will be informed. The First Lady insisted on it. For everyone else, though, you’re going to have to maintain radio silence.” Adam did a double take at Ava’s picture on the screen. He wiggled an eyebrow at Marin. “But you’re welcome to give her a call and set me up with her when this is all over.”

“Too late,” Marin replied. “That’s the bridezilla. Trust me, the male species dodged a bullet. She’s taken.”

“The good ones always are,” Adam mumbled as he stuck her cell phone into his pocket.

Marin peered through the van’s blacked-out windows. They were headed into Old Town Alexandria, it appeared. The van made a series of turns before finally slipping between two row houses just blocks from the water. A garage door opened and the driver pulled inside. Adam placed a hand on Marin’s arm, stalling her from climbing out of the van until the garage door was completely closed behind them.

Adam shot her a smile that wasn’t as encouraging as it was cheeky. “Welcome to your home away from home, Marin.”

He escorted her inside the house. The first floor was a hodgepodge of bulky furniture that looked like it had come from a government warehouse. Thick drapes covered the front windows, making the narrow room feel like a cave.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this place in Architectural Digest,” Marin quipped.

“Oh, but wait until you’ve seen the kitchen.” Adam pointed toward the back of the house.

Marin really hoped the kitchen was functional. She couldn’t imagine being trapped inside this place for hours on end and not being able to cook. Thankfully, the room was in stark contrast to the rest of the house. Bright and airy, the kitchen featured Scandinavian cabinets in pickled oak with white Corian countertops, and a shiny linoleum floor. The décor was dated, but the appliances looked passable. A comfortable looking banquette with a white Formica table dominated the eating space. Marin was happy to see the sun shining through an unblocked window.

A woman turned from the refrigerator where she was unloading groceries.

“Hi there,” she said. “I’m Agent Christine Groesch.” She gestured to the bags of food. “Griff thought you’d like to have some supplies to keep your mind off being cooped up.”

‘Griff’ again.

Marin hated the tingly sensation that came along with Griffin understanding how she’d feel being in the safe house all day. Not only that, but he’d known what would make her happy, damn it.

“Please tell me you got pizza pockets,” Adam pleaded before he began rummaging through the freezer.

“Ugh, you have a diet worse than my thirteen-year-old nephew,” Agent Groesch said. “I don’t know how you manage to pass your physical each year after eating all those processed foods.”

Adam winked at her. “Genetics, Christine. I’m blessed.”

Stepping around Adam, Marin pulled a big bag of chocolate chips out of one of the grocery bags.

Agent Groesch looked at her sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure whether chocolate chip cookies were beneath a pastry chef of your reputation.”

“Are you kidding?” Marin grinned at both agents. “I won my first cooking competition when I was five with none other than chocolate chip cookies. They’re my go-to comfort food to bake. And after this weekend, I could use a whole bunch of them.”

Adam high-fived Agent Groesch. “I have a feeling this assignment is going to be delicious.” He laughed at his own pun. “I’m just going to call in and let Griffin-the-Great know the eagle has landed.”

Agent Groesch chuckled as Adam left the room. “It’s fortunate that those three boys are merely brothers from another mother because I don’t think one woman could survive raising them together. Heck, there were some days when I thought the Secret Service couldn’t survive having them all as rookie agents.”

Marin opened the cabinet doors in search of a mixing bowl. She remembered what Griffin had said about Adam and Ben. “I doubt there isn’t anything one wouldn’t do for the others.”

Finally finding what she was looking for, Marin turned to catch the agent smiling knowingly at her.

“I can see why Griff is so protective of you,” Agent Groesch said. “Most women are resentful of a man’s buddies. Especially when they are as close as those three. I’m glad he’s found someone who is supportive. Believe me, being in the Secret Service takes a toll on nearly every relationship an agent has. Those three swore to remain confirmed bachelors for life. Something tells me that might not be the case anymore.”

“Uh-um, I think you’ve misunderstood the situation,” Marin stammered. She was lucky she could even get the words out; she was so dumbfounded by the agent’s assumption. “The only reason Agent Keller is protective of me is because it’s his job.” She hated the lump that formed in her throat.

Christine’s smile didn’t waver. “We’ll see,” was all she said.

Marin opened her mouth to argue more, but the sound of a dog’s nails scratching on the linoleum made her turn to the door instead.

“Otto,” she cried, crouching down to wrap her arms around the dog’s thick neck.

“The third member of our team has arrived,” Adam announced.

“Otto is staying with me?”

Adam’s face softened. “Griffin thought you might feel better having him here.”

“I rest my case,” Agent Groesch declared from behind Marin.

The lump in Marin’s throat became more painful. She didn’t want Griffin to be kind to her. It made it difficult to hold on to her loathing of him.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Griffin staggered into the Secret Service headquarters, a nondescript building on H Street. He was exhausted and frustrated at not being able to locate either Diego Ruiz or the elusive art thief who was targeting Marin.

“Detective Gerkens was right,” he said as he dropped into a chair in Ben’s office/lab. “This guy is slippery. It’s like he evaporated among the crowd on the South Lawn yesterday.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got a really cool program that can put a name to a face. And it came up with a hit twenty minutes ago.” Ben strolled over to one of the several computers in the room and punched a few buttons on the keyboard. The suspect’s picture from the Dupont’s video surveillance camera popped up on the big screen. “His name is Yerik Salenko. He’s a former member of the Ukraine Spetsnaz.”

“He’s special forces?” Griffin asked. He, Ben, and Adam had served in a similar capacity for the United States Army. The distinction meant that Salenko was as highly trained as Griffin and his friends. That explained a lot. It also made Griffin more anxious about Marin.

Ben clicked to a photo of Salenko in his military uniform. “He was for several years. After the fall of the Ukrainian government, though, most members of the Spetsnaz have become mercenaries, hiring themselves out as henchmen to the highest bidder. Your gang of counterfeiters likely needed someone skilled in warfare. And sharpshooters,” Ben added. “Salenko is on the list of snipers Adam gave you the other day.”

“Damn it.”

“Well, on the positive side, there’s always the possibility this guy’s a one-man show. He’s likely your shooter from New Jersey. Once he saw that you found the paintings, he came back to the White House to make sure no one else talked.”

“Your theory doesn’t answer the question of why a counterfeiting ring’s thug for hire is stealing paintings from the White House.” Griffin began rummaging through Ben’s desk drawers. He sighed with relief when he pulled out a package of peanut butter crackers. Griffin couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. “It’s times like these that I’m glad you live the Boy Scout motto and you’re always prepared.”

“We had homemade beignets at the safe house this morning.” Ben handed Griffin a bottle of water. “They were outstanding.”

Griffin’s stomach growled. His chest seized, too, but he was ignoring that particular sensation.

“How is she?” he asked.

Ben leaned a hip on the corner of his desk. “She’s tougher than she looks. Most women would be a helpless, quivering mess after going through what she’s been through. Not Marin. She keeps carrying on. I like her.”

“Your job isn’t to ‘like her,’” Griffin growled. “It’s to protect her.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Adam has taken protecting Marin to a whole new level.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Griffin snapped as he bolted from his chair. “He damn well better not be sleeping with her!” Too late, he realized Ben was baiting him.

“You are such a sucker.” Ben laughed. “Never for a woman before, though. This is new. And interesting.”

Griffin sat back down with a thud, pressing his palms to the arms of the chair to keep from giving his friend a well-deserved fat lip.

“The only one sleeping with Marin is the dog,” Ben informed him. “But, I’d be worried about Otto if I was you. He’s likely to chew your balls off if you come between him and his lady.”

He shot the bird at Ben, then shoved another peanut butter cracker in his mouth. It tasted like chalk, but Griffin managed to swallow it anyway.

Ben grew solemn. “She’s worried about Diego.”

“Yeah,” Griffin said. “He’s just as slippery as our Ukrainian friend. He seems to have disappeared without a trace.”

“Diego went through some pretty extensive background checks when he came to the Navy Mess.” Ben pulled up the sous chef’s service record on the computer screen. “He had a gang-related run-in with the police when he was a teenager. The judge gave him the option of joining the Navy or going to jail. I’d say Diego made the right choice.”

“But could his past have been used against him to co-opt him into stealing art from the White House?”

Ben looked at him skeptically. “You think that’s why he’s gone off the grid? Diego’s in on this?”

“If so, he’s likely already died an agonizing death.” Griffin rubbed a hand over his eyes. “The preliminary ruling from the FBI’s ME indicates the poor doorman at the Dupont was injected with enough potassium to make it look like a heart attack.”

“Shit,” Ben said.

“Yeah, either way, I’m probably going to be delivering bad news to Marin.”

Griffin’s cell phone rang. “Agent Keller,” he answered.

“Hey there, Keller,” the voice on the other end said. “I found that sous chef you were looking for.”

* * *

That evening, Marin sat across from Ben at the Formica table in the safe house and watched proudly as he annihilated a plate of red beans and rice along with some citrus marinated shrimp with Louis sauce.

“I’ll be your fish shop errand boy any day you ask if you’ll keep cooking like this for me,” Ben promised with a contented smile on his boyish face.

“I like a man who isn’t afraid of a seafood market,” Marin teased. “Thanks for getting the shrimp for me.”

“My momma taught me right.” Ben scraped his fork along the empty plate. “My family owns a place on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Fishermen sell their catches right out of our marina.”

“Is there a restaurant, too?”

“Nah, it’s more like a gourmet tackle shop,” Ben explained. “We sell bait, wine, and fancy sandwiches. People drive their boats up as if it’s an old-fashioned drive-in.”

“That sounds like a fun place to grow up.” She carried Ben’s plate over to the sink.

“I didn’t move there until I was thirteen. I grew up in New Jersey,” Ben said.

“What made your parents decide to relocate?”

“We moved to live with my grandfather after my dad died.” Ben’s eyes dimmed briefly. “My father was a cop. He was killed in the line of duty.”

“I’m sorry.” The words sounded inadequate, but Marin couldn’t think of anything else to say. “That had to be difficult for a teenager to go through.”

He shrugged. “It was hardest on my mom. She was lost for a long time without my dad. Law enforcement isn’t conducive to long, happy marriages. If you aren’t getting shot during a domestic dispute, you’re working crazy hours and seeing things that make it difficult to have a normal relationship.”

She cut a piece of chocolate cake and slid it onto a plate. “But you went into law enforcement. Why?” Marin asked as she placed the cake in front of him.

“I come from a long line of cops. But I don’t plan on making the same mistake as the rest of my family. I’d never subject a wife and kids to this lifestyle.”

“Never?” she repeated. “But what if you meet someone and fall in love?”

His eyes dimmed again for a split second. “Love is for suckers.”

They were both quiet while Ben took a bite of his cake and Marin gathered the ingredients for a French toast casserole she wanted to make for breakfast. She thought back to something Agent Groesch had said the day before. Those three swore to remain confirmed bachelors for life.

“So, you, Adam, and Griffin have all decided never to marry?” Not that she cared what Griffin Keller did with his life.

Ben’s eyes twinkled as though he suspected she did care. A lot. “Yep, we’ve devoted our lives to the Secret Service instead.”

“But Griffin’s leaving the Secret Service,” she argued. “He said it was too stressful for him. . .”

She realized her mistake as soon as she heard Ben’s loud snort of laughter. Griffin had never meant to retire. Neither did he want a job with the Chevalier hotels. It was all part of the web of lies he’d used to reel her in. He’d been playing her the whole time. And stupid Marin had fallen for it. All of it.

Blinking back tears, she furiously chopped pecans. How could she have been so gullible? And why did she still care?

“Something smells good in here.”

Marin nearly chopped off her finger at the sound of Griffin’s voice.

“‘Good’ doesn’t even begin to describe Marin’s cooking,” Ben raved.

Marin kept her back to both men, mincing the pecans into sawdust.

“Just don’t tell my mom I said someone else makes shrimp better than she does,” Ben added. “This cake is unbelievable, too.”

As far as she could tell, Griffin hadn’t moved from the threshold of the kitchen. She could feel his eyes on her, though. Her mouth went dry, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her so distressed.

“Did you and Adam leave anything for me?” Griffin asked.

Before Ben could answer, Marin reached into the cabinet and pulled out a can of Spam she’d found in the pantry earlier. She turned and slammed it on the counter in front of Griffin.

“Bon appetit.”

She couldn’t help it. Her gaze drank him in. Marin suddenly felt appalled at her behavior. Casually dressed in faded jeans and a Boston Bruins T-shirt, Griffin appeared as though he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair wild, and dark stubble shadowed his face. He looked weary, rumpled, and amazingly, still incredibly sexy. It wasn’t fair.

He shut his eyes and sighed. “I came here to give you the news about Diego, Marin. Not to fight with you.”

Marin grabbed at the counter in order to steady her suddenly wobbly knees. “Diego? Is he—is he. . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Griffin opened his eyes. They were filled with wonder. “He’s alive,” he said.

She gasped in relief. “He’s. . . he’s alive?”

“Yeah.” Griffin grabbed at the back of his neck. “And married.”

“Wait. What?” Marin’s head was spinning. “What do you mean married?”

“The reason he was AWOL is because his partner, one of the waiters in the Navy Mess, was having a difficult time coming out to his family. Once he did, the two men got married.”

“That’s it?” Marin cried. “He skipped out on work on one of the busiest days of the year to elope? And he didn’t bother to tell anyone? I spent the last two days worried sick over that man! I could kill him myself just for that.” She picked up the knife again, poured more pecans on the cutting board and began viciously chopping. “Well, isn’t that just like a man for you? All he cares about is his end goal. He doesn’t care about who might get hurt in the process. As long as he gets what he wants!”

“Damn it, Marin, I was doing my job!” Griffin was suddenly beside her.

The knife stilled in Marin’s hand. “Your ‘job’? Your job.” She slowly turned and pointed the tip of the blade at Griffin’s chest. “Was it your ‘job’ to kiss me senseless? Or how about when you had your hands and mouth all over my body, was that your ‘job,’ too, huh?” She jabbed the knife at him. “Or what about when you were making me—”

“For crying out loud, Ben, can you give us some privacy!” Griffin yelled, his eyes never leaving Marin’s face.

“Just when it was getting good,” Ben mumbled. “Come on, Otto, let’s go check your pee mail. Maybe we’ll catch up with Adam on his run while we’re out.”

“Put the knife down, Marin,” Griffin commanded once Ben and the dog had left the kitchen.

Marin’s hand holding the knife shook, but she couldn’t seem to get the rest of her body to move.

“Please,” he urged softly.

The knife landed on the counter with a clank. Her eyes stung and her face burned with humiliation. This man had too much power over her. And stupid woman that she was, Marin was about to give him more.

“You kissed me,” she choked out. “Why did you do that? It wasn’t fair.”

He stepped in closer so their bodies were only separated by a distance the same width as the blade of the knife she’d just tossed on the counter. Marin breathed him in. Despite being exhausted and bedraggled, Griffin still smelled crisp and clean, like a freshly showered man. The guy was a menace to women everywhere.

“I kissed you, Marin, because I couldn’t not kiss you.” His soft voice was like a caress to her skin. “I’d be lying if I said I tried to avoid kissing you. Because I really didn’t. Yeah, it was wrong, but I’m not going to apologize. From the moment I saw you standing in the pastry kitchen looking like an Amazon goddess, I knew I had to touch you. To kiss you. And when I finally did, it felt anything but wrong.” He brushed a fingertip along her jawline making Marin’s breath hitch in her lungs. “You enthralled me from the very beginning. Kissing you”—he leaned in closer so that his lips were hovering over hers—“kissing you, Marin Chevalier, was inevitable.”

The rasp of his breath scorched the tender skin on her cheek. But Marin didn’t care because seconds later he was opening her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly, reverently, as though he was reacquainting himself with her mouth. Marin wasn’t as patient. Fisting her hands in his T-shirt, she tugged him closer. He made a rough sound in the back of his throat when their tongues collided. His lips on her mouth suddenly became more urgent.

Marin felt the cold hard door of the refrigerator at her back. Griffin cupped her face as he delved into her hungrily, now just as impatient as she was. She slid her fingers beneath his shirt, spreading them out over his warm skin. He shuddered when she traced the muscles on his stomach. Feeling empowered, Marin rubbed her pelvis against his. Griffin nipped at her lips before moving to her neck. He swore roughly against her skin. She arched her back to give him greater access, smacking her head against the steel door when she did so.

“I didn’t want to stop the other night, Marin,” he whispered near her ear. “You have to know that.”

“But you did and now you owe me,” she insisted.

She didn’t want to think about that night. All she wanted was the here and now with this beautiful man before she woke up from what was certainly a dream. Marin wrapped her fingers around his skull pulling his mouth down to hers.

“And you can start by shutting up and kissing me.”

Griffin’s grin was merciless, his eyes wicked. Using his hard body to press hers more fully against the fridge, he gently pulled her hands from his face and placed her palms against the cool door. He unstrapped his holster and carefully lifted it over his head, placing the gun on top of the refrigerator. Taking her hand, he maneuvered her onto the padded bench of the banquette in the corner of the room, his own body following her down.

“I think you need to be more specific, Chef.” One of his hands slid between their bodies as his lips nuzzled her jaw. “I need to know where you want me to kiss you.”

A low moan escaped from the back of her mouth when Griffin’s talented fingers slipped inside her shorts.

“Am I getting warmer?” He teased the corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Marin squirmed when his finger found her wet seam. His other hand left her chin to gently knead her breast. She tilted her face toward his and sank her teeth into his full bottom lip. Lifting her hands from the refrigerator door, she slipped them into the back pockets of his jeans where she dug her fingers into his ass.

“Kiss me, Griffin,” she pleaded. “Kiss me everywhere.”

He didn’t disappoint. Griffin took her mouth in a demanding kiss while his hands simultaneously pleasured other parts of her body. Marin’s stomach quivered at the full sensual assault. Griffin’s tongue slid over hers while his finger mimicked the same motion down below. She gasped for air, her body on the verge of shattering.

The kitchen window shattered instead.