do was slowly nod. Dillon wasn’t used to this for more reasons than the obvious. Someone else was in charge, looking out for her. She’d been shot at before — more than once — but this was next-level bullshit, and it had her off her game. He had her off her game.
Pulling her into his tight embrace, Ransom held her longer than what was appropriate for near strangers as his hands weaved through her hair and cradled the back of her head. “Thank God.”
When he finally freed her from his grip, it was only to keep her tight to his side with an arm across her shoulders while his body was still turned as if shielding her from an invisible enemy. He was protecting her. She didn’t need it, but she liked it.
“Where are we going?” Dillon asked.
“White House. You’ll be safe there.”
“But I live—” She pointed in the direction of the coffee house, but he cut her off.
“Until the area is cleared, and we know what the hell happened back there, you’re staying with me.”
“Staying with you?”
“Staying at the White House.”
“For how long?”
His steely glare caught her off guard. “As long as it takes.” He turned away for a moment before completing his thought. “If harm came your way because of me…”
“Unless you set that up to impress me, this wasn’t your fault. Please know I don’t blame you. You’re the president. You’re a moving target for all sorts of crazy.”
He nodded. “But—”
“Mr. President, they found a long gun at the top of the parking structure across from the scene. No suspect at this moment,” the man in the front passenger seat interrupted.
“A long gun? How the hell does a sharpshooter get that close to the fucking president?” Dillon asked, catching both the man and Ransom by surprise.
Ransom directed his gaze to the man in the front seat. “Ex-xactly. Kroy, how did that get past your team?”
Kroy Darby was a special agent serving under the United States Secret Service and assigned to the president himself. Ransom appointed Kroy as the only person he trusted with the job, despite it typically being the director’s job. They’d served together through their toughest years. Kroy was the only person he trusted with his life.
Kroy shook his head and seethed through his teeth as he slammed his fist down on the center console. “I don’t know, Ran. I don’t fucking know.”
Dillon knew. It was obvious Ransom and Kroy both thought the same thing. She could see it in the stare they shared in the rearview mirror. There was a traitor among them. She knew as well as they did that their team had a soft spot. Someone sacrificed loyalty and let this happen as part of a master plan. The president’s detail couldn’t be trusted. That was why she was there — and nobody in that vehicle knew it.
4
“I’m sorry that took so long,” Ransom said as he entered his private quarters.
Dillon took to her feet, stepping into the sneakers she’d kicked off. “You have more important things to tend to than me.”
“That’s far from the truth.” His stare bored into her, the heat causing her breath to quicken and her pulse to increase.
“A-Any news? Updates? Can I go home now?” she asked.
Ransom shook his head. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Whoa.” She put her hands up. “I know we had a moment back there, and I appreciate the care you took in protecting me, but…”
He laughed. “Do you always go there?”
“Go where?” She looked around the room.
“To the place where you think I’m trying to get in your pants,” Ransom deadpanned.
“Not one for formalities,” she said with an eye roll. “I’d almost forgotten. So, this proposal?”
“I’m hosting an event tonight for some foreign dignitaries. I’d like you to join me, and we can continue our…talk.”
“Our talk? Um…” She looked down at her dirty yoga pants and torn T-shirt from being tackled to the ground in a pile of glass. “What’s the dress code?”
“If it were up to me, those pants. Since it’s not, let me take care of the details. I have resources.”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t go home. Not yet. You’ll be staying in a safe house until further notice, and I’ll have a small detail on you until we know what this is about and verify you’re in the clear.”
“A small detail?”
“Protection.”
“You think that’s necessary?” Dillon asked, making a mental note to call Mercy and see what they had on the attack.
“Absolutely. I need to get back to the briefing. It’s