Chapter 17

CHAPTER17

Griffin took the stairs two at a time. He could hear the director and Adam calling after him, but he ignored them. By the time he reached the residence two floors up, his fear for Marin had stoked itself into a fury. As much as he wanted to bust open this counterfeit ring and take down The Artist, there was no way he’d allow anyone to use Marin as bait.

She was too precious.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him in the center hall. Marin’s back was to him while one of the tech agents fitted her with surveillance equipment. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail that stuck out of the back of a baseball hat, likely concealing the listening device. When the tech slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her jeans to insert the tracking apparatus, a million shades of red danced before Griffin’s eyes. He launched himself at the agent, taking him down to the floor just as a flurry of shouting reached his ears.

“Don’t you touch her again,” Griffin yelled, heedless of his surroundings. “She’s not leaving this house!”

“Agent Keller!” the director admonished. “You’re out of line!”

“Get a grip, you dumbass,” Adam said as he yanked Griffin up by the arm. “The guy’s just doing his job. It’s not what you think.”

Adam propelled him around to face Marin. But it wasn’t her pretty blue eyes staring back at him. Instead, he was looking into the bewildered brown ones belonging to Agent Jessica Pannell. Her mouth slowly turned up into a satisfied smile.

“Well, at least we know I’ll pass for the pastry chef at the meeting point,” she said.

“A decoy,” Griffin said through ragged breaths. “You’re not sending Marin into this guy’s clutches.”

“Of course not, you idiot,” Director Worcester huffed. “We’d never put a civilian in harm’s way.”

A wave of relief coursed through Griffin, so powerful, he was forced to take a seat on the sofa. “Sorry about that, man.” He reached a hand out to the tech specialist Adam had already helped off the ground. “I’m obviously not thinking clearly.”

“Not thinking with your head, you mean,” Adam mumbled loud enough for only Griffin to hear.

The tech specialist shook Griffin’s hand while massaging his shoulder with his other one. “Now I know why the director hated to lose you to the New York regional office’s hockey team.”

“Mr. President,” the director said suddenly.

Griffin jumped to his feet at the director’s words as the president, flanked by his chief of staff and the admiral, strode from one of the sitting areas at the end of the hall.

“Director Worcester, Harriett and I would like for Marin to remain here with us,” President Manning said.

“Marin is here?” The words slipped past Griffin’s lips before he could stop them.

President Manning turned to study him. Griffin had always liked working for the man. The popular president was demanding, but fair. And he never took advantage of his position to demean those in service to him. But Griffin hadn’t seen the president since the incident with his daughter-in-law. He had no doubt the president had been briefed on the situation. Griffin just didn’t know whose side the man would take.

The president’s face softened slightly and he jerked his chin to indicate the Queen’s Sitting Room where he’d just come from. “She’s with my wife.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. President,” the director said. “But protocol demands we return the chef to the safe house. If our suspect figures out we sent Agent Pannell instead of the chef, he could return here to look for her.”

“Yes, but you’ve got this place locked down like a fortress,” the president argued. “Surely he wouldn’t risk coming back again.”

“He’s penetrated our security at least three times that we know of,” the director countered. “That’s three more times than he should have. We’re working every scenario trying to figure out how he’s getting in and I know we’re close to answering that question, but until then, we have to stick to the protocol. I can allow the chef to accompany you to Camp David, however, if you’d like to take your family there.” The director looked as though he wanted to beg the president to choose that option.

“The president can’t leave Washington tonight,” his chief of staff interjected. “Not while Congress is voting on his new jobs initiative. It will look as if we’re not supporting those members who are sponsoring it.”

“What good is being the damn President of the United States if I can’t ever do things my way?”

His chief of staff chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first commander in chief to ask that question.”

“Fine,” the president said. “But I want this guy caught. This ends tonight.”

“We’ll do our best, sir,” the director replied.

The president turned to head back to the sitting room. “Now I have to go break it to my wife and her goddaughter that we have to send her back.”

“I’ll do it,” Griffin said.

Adam’s hand was on Griffin’s arm before he took a step. “Easy, buddy,” his friend whispered. “We’re closing in on the guy that could break your case wide open. Keep your eye on the prize. Let FLOTUS console her. Marin will be kept safe.”

The president looked at Griffin curiously. Griffin shook off Adam’s hand. He needed to know for himself that Marin was okay. Then he would go catch her tormentor. “I want to be at the meeting place,” he told the director. “I need Salenko alive and talking so I can ferret out the rest of this counterfeiting ring.”

The director nodded. Adam sighed loudly.

“I just have one thing to take care of first,” Griffin said.

“Get your gear on and meet me in my office in twenty minutes,” the director ordered.

The president gestured for Griffin to walk with him to the sitting room.

“Marin wants to speak with her family,” Griffin mentioned. “It would go a long way toward making her feel better about this whole situation.”

“I agree,” the president replied. “Admiral, can you arrange a secure line for Marin to call home?”

The chief usher nodded.

“Marin’s well-being is our first priority, Agent Keller. Even after this issue is resolved.”

Griffin let President Manning’s warning sink in as they entered the area of the White House known as the Queen’s Sitting Room. Part of him was relieved that Marin had a champion aside from him to keep her safe. But the other part of him wanted to tell the President of the United States to mind his own damn business.

The late day sunlight was streaming through the window, casting a patchwork of shadows across the floor. Marin sat on a wide sofa that doubled as a daybed. She was reading a book aloud to the president’s granddaughter who was listening intently while lounging against Otto. The First Lady sat across from them sipping white wine. She glanced up at her husband expectantly. He shook his head.

Clearly agitated, Mrs. Manning sprung up from her chair. “I trusted that woman, Cal. With our precious granddaughter. And this is what she does?” she whispered furiously once she’d reached her husband. “Stealing from our country and threatening Marin? The worst thing that ever happened to us was Clark bringing Farrah home. I don’t know what he ever saw in that woman. I wish he’d never married her.”

The president glanced past his wife, fixing his gaze on the dark-haired little girl sitting with Marin. “I’m hopeful our son saw something in Farrah other than her long legs and good looks. But wishing that he’d never married her would be wishing away Arabelle.”

The First Lady wiped at her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. Arabelle is the only good thing that’s come out of this situation. She’ll be devastated when she finds out her grandmother is an art thief.” She turned to Griffin. “But she’ll be even more upset if something happens to Bita. You have to bring her back, Agent Keller. Despite what she is, I know Bita adores Arabelle. There has to be some explanation for this. And I for one want to hear it.”

Griffin never liked to make promises with regard to an op. Anything could go wrong, even when one was well planned out. Promises only jinxed things. “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” he said.

Mrs. Manning looked as though she was going to say more, but her husband stepped in.

“Agent Keller and his team will do what they have to do,” the president interjected. “Including protecting Marin.”

“My apologies, Agent Keller,” the First Lady said. “I’m not myself today. You’ve proven yourself dedicated to our family on more than one occasion. I don’t believe I ever got the chance to thank you. Or to apologize for Farrah’s behavior.”

Griffin was uncomfortable with the woman’s words. “No need, ma’am. It’s part of the job.”

The First Lady’s face relaxed. “Well, not all of it. But I’m glad you’re such a good sport. I’m also very grateful that Marin has you to watch over her.” She patted him on the shoulder.

“Mr. President,” the president’s chief of staff interrupted them. “We’re ready to brief you on how we’d like to spin the story of the art thefts once the details reach the media.”

Both the Mannings sighed. The First Lady gave her husband a smile that clearly conveyed a silent message because he nodded briefly before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. He followed his chief of staff into the center hall.

“Arabelle,” the First Lady called to her granddaughter. “Let’s get you into the bathtub. Your daddy will be home from the hospital soon.”

The little girl jumped up off the sofa. “Good. We have to tell him about Grandma Bita.” Arabelle stopped in front of Griffin, looking up at him with her big, earnest eyes. “Maybe Daddy can go with you and Marin to get her?”

Marin stood behind the child, clutching the book she’d been reading to her chest. She wore a stricken look on her face. Griffin crouched down on his haunches so he was eye level with Arabelle. “Your daddy would be a big help tonight, that’s true. But he gets to be a hero every day at the hospital. How about if tonight he stays home and keeps you company? Then us other guys will get a chance at being a hero. Okay?”

Arabelle’s bottom lip trembled. “Only if you promise that Grandma Bita and Marin will be here tomorrow.”

The First Lady bent down and wrapped an arm around her granddaughter. “Sweetheart, we need to let Agent Keller go now.”

“But he hasn’t promised yet,” the child said mulishly.

Damn.It was one thing to be evasive with the First Lady. Dodging a preschooler was a hell of a lot trickier. No way Arabelle was going to let him get away with an “I’ll do my best.” Griffin crossed his fingers behind his back. “I promise,” he said, hoping he hadn’t just coopted the whole stinking op.

Arabelle threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you,” the First Lady mouthed before she pulled her granddaughter away.

* * *

Marin blinked back the tears in her eyes watching the exchange between Griffin and Arabelle. Griffin was a man who didn’t make promises. Especially about the future. She knew that point only too well. But he’d told the child what she needed to hear, and for that, she loved him just a little bit more.

“Jesus, I hope my sister has a boy.” Griffin dragged his fingers through his hair as he got to his feet. “Little girls have some scary powers.”

“And then they turn into big girls,” Marin said softly.

The air in the room seemed to evaporate when Griffin’s smoldering gaze collided with hers. His eyes were dark and his body tense. Still, he kept his distance. Marin was grateful for his self-control because she would likely shatter if he touched her.

“Yes,” he murmured, “yes, they do.”

Five feet separated them as they stood staring at one another in the charged silence for a long moment.

“How are you?” he finally asked.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Numb probably best describes it. I feel as though I’m living in an alternate universe where nothing is as it seems. Every day, this whole thing just gets more and more unbelievable.” She placed Arabelle’s book on the table before wrapping her arms around her midsection. “This man wants to kill me because I saw his face. But Arabelle has seen him too. What will happen to her?”

She began to tremble. Griffin quickly closed the distance between them, but Marin took a step back when he would have taken her in his arms. He swore.

“Nothing is going to happen to Arabelle, because this ends tonight.”

“And Bita? What will happen to her?”

Griffin arched an eyebrow. “She’s a thief. One who, as you just pointed out, put her innocent granddaughter in danger. Not to mention you, too.”

Marin turned toward the window. “I know. Like I said, none of this makes any sense. Except I understand now how you thought I might be the thief. Because I never would have suspected Bita. I still can’t believe it.”

She felt the warmth of his body at her back as he came to stand behind her. Thankfully, he kept his hands to himself. They stood like that for a few minutes watching as dusk turned to darkness.

“The admiral has arranged for you to call and talk to your parents before you have to go back to the safe house.”

His breath fanning her neck made her shiver. Or perhaps it was the knowledge she had to return to the safe house that was making her unsteady. Marin wasn’t exactly sure. She was, however, grateful he’d made this small gesture to ease her anxiety.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Marin, I promise—”

“Don’t!” She spun around to face him. “I’m not a five-year-old who needs you to make promises. Go do your job without worrying about me. Or Arabelle. Promises will only trip you up when you need to be on guard.”

He opened his mouth to say something before quickly closing it. His eyes were filled with wonder. Marin’s hands ached to touch him, so she did, gliding her palms along his suit jacket.

“Try not to mess up this suit or your beautiful dimples while you’re out tonight, though, okay?”

His chest tightened under her hands and suddenly his arms were around her, pressing her into his hard body while his mouth took hers in a searing kiss. One that was inevitable. Marin arched into him, savoring his scent, his taste, and the feel of his body. Griffin kissed her as if he possessed her, plundering her mouth like the rogue pirate she’d imagined him to be aboard the sailboat the night before. And Marin let him, succumbing to his invasion with an answering passion.

The sound of someone clearing their throat alerted them to the fact that they were not alone. Both were breathing hard when they stepped apart. Marin avoided looking at Griffin so he wouldn’t see the longing that was surely in her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was distract him from his duties tonight.

“Excuse me, Chef,” Assistant Usher Peters said. “Your parents are on line three for you.”

Relief surged through her at the thought of talking to her mom and dad. Surely, she would feel more grounded once she did. She turned to say something to Griffin as she reached for the phone on the side table, but he had already slipped out of the room. Marin sank down on the daybed, embarrassed at the tears that began as soon as she heard her mother’s voice.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Marin stepped into the kitchen of the residence expecting to see Lillie preparing the First Family’s dinner. Her aunt Harriett was there instead. She was mixing up a pot of macaroni and cheese from a box.

“Don’t judge.” She held up a hand sheepishly at Marin. “I’m a pediatrician. I ought to know better than to feed this crap to my granddaughter, but it’s been a very trying day.”

“There’s nothing wrong with comfort food. It’s actually one of my favorite food groups.”

Her godmother smiled at Marin’s attempt at humor. “I’m sorry that you got dragged into this, Marin. I hate that this is happening. There are days I wish we were all just back in New Orleans. Life was a lot easier then.”

“But not as rewarding.” Marin took the spoon from the First Lady and began preparing the macaroni and cheese for her. “You and the president are doing a lot of good for this country.”

“Yeah, like letting my son’s mother-in-law steal priceless artwork that belongs to the taxpayers.” Aunt Harriett sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “And she brought a crazy killer with her, to boot.” She hesitated a moment. “Cal said you stabbed a man yesterday. That must have been horrible.”

Marin’s hand stilled mid-stir as the vision of her plunging the knife into the man’s back replayed in her mind. She shuddered violently. Aunt Harriett sprung up from her chair and wrapped her arms around Marin.

“It’s something I’m trying to forget,” Marin whispered. “But I’m not sure I ever will.”

“You did what you had to do to survive. And, no, you won’t ever forget because you have one of these.” Her aunt tapped Marin’s chest. “Not to mention a conscience. But I don’t want you ever blaming yourself for what happened.”

“He was going to shoot Griffin—Agent Keller.”

Aunt Harriett brushed back a piece of Marin’s hair. “That would have been a travesty for women everywhere. He’s just too beautiful a man not to be walking this earth.”

Marin resumed stirring the pasta while trying to hide the blush that was creeping up her neck. Griffin was a gorgeous man. She’d spent the better part of last night confirming that fact.

“He’s a good man, too,” her godmother continued. “He’ll make things right. You’ll see.”

She wasn’t sure if her aunt was talking about the return of Bita or something else, but since thinking about Griffin only led Marin’s heart in circles, she kept quiet. They worked in companionable silence, her aunt handing her the ingredients while Marin prepared Arabelle’s dinner. It was soothing to be doing something that was so natural. She felt loved and protected with her godmother by her side. After the week she’d had, Marin would never take moments like this one for granted again. She was glad for the opportunity to relax and regroup.

The tranquility was interrupted when one of the Secret Service agents stepped into the kitchen. “Chef, your ride is ready to take you back to the safe house.”

The First Lady slammed her palm onto the counter. “This is all so ridiculous,” she said through clenched teeth. “Tell me again why she can’t stay here?”

The agent flinched at the First Lady’s stern demand. “Director’s orders, ma’am.”

Marin diffused the situation by leaning in to kiss her godmother on the cheek. “It’s better this way. Everyone is safer. Give Arabelle a hug for me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her aunt hugged her tightly. “Agent Keller promised Arabelle that you’d be back here tomorrow. I’m trusting him to keep his word. Or I’ll shoot him myself. I don’t care how adorable those damn dimples of his are.”

“I never realized you were that ruthless, Aunt Harriett,” Marin said with a surprised grin.

“Not ruthless; just protective of those people I love. Sleep well, honey.”

Marin doubted she would sleep at all tonight, but she didn’t bother worrying her godmother with that information. Otto fell into step beside her as they made their way to the elevator.

“The media are camped on the North Lawn awaiting an announcement about the president’s jobs bill, so you’ll be exiting via the south entrance,” the Secret Service agent explained as they exited the elevator on the ground floor.

Heavily armed officers from the Uniformed Division seemed to be around every corner. There was a frenzy of activity within the Secret Service office, as well. As they passed by, Marin risked a glance to see if she could spot Griffin, but he was nowhere in sight. Most of her was glad to not have distracted him while he was preparing to take on the murderous art thief in the next few minutes; but a small part of her—the part that always seemed to want to jump his bones—was bereft at not seeing him again.

They passed through the Diplomatic Reception Room with its striking wallpaper featuring panoramic views of early North American life. A lump formed in Marin’s throat as she thought of Wes, the curator. He’d confided to Marin that he worried about the preservation of wallpaper, first installed in 1961. Wes’s passion about the artifacts within the White House most probably got him killed. Marin said a silent prayer that no one else would die at the hands of this mad man.

The agent led her out onto the driveway. The night air was balmier than it had been the night before. Otto scurried toward the Kennedy garden and the bushes beyond it. The agent glanced down the driveway toward where the armored vehicle was parked.

“Agent Todd must be inside the house,” he said. “I’ll go get him and we can be on our way.”

“That’s fine,” she told him. “I think Otto needs to take care of some business before we leave. I’ll meet you at the car.”

Marin meandered toward the decoy vehicle while Otto relieved himself on three of the four trees lining the drive. When she and the dog reached the black SUV, the door to the back was already open for them. Otto jumped in and made himself at home on the bench seat.

“Save some room for me,” Marin said as she climbed in behind the dog.

A moment later, her door was closed from the outside and the agent took his place in the driver’s seat. Marin closed her eyes and rested her head against the seatback as the car pulled away from the White House. She willed herself not to think about the danger Griffin and his team would be jumping into shortly. It was easier said than done, however. Reaching over, Marin went to bury her fingers in the comfort of Otto’s soft fur. The dog growled menacingly, startling Marin. Her eyes snapped open. Otto was sitting at attention, his focus on the driver. A chill ran up her spine as Marin realized there was only one agent in the car. Her breath froze when she met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They were the same eerie ones she’d encountered on the spiral staircase the week before.