Between Love and Honor (Men of the Secret Service #3) - Tracy Solheim Page 0,43
to unlock the center console. Inside was a burner phone and a Glock. He was relieved Griff still traveled with backup. He dug out the burner phone and turned it on.
Beside him, Quinn huffed out an appreciative breath. “That would have been handy a few minutes ago.”
“You did fine with what you have,” he bit out.
“Don’t tell me your male ego is feeling threatened?”
He ignored her while he dialed a number on the phone, wondering if the woman on the other end would be as ornery as the one beside him.
“I saved your life,” Quinn said. “That makes us even.”
They pulled up to a stoplight right before the highway and he risked a glance over at her. She wasn’t gloating. Instead, the look she met him with was full of melancholy. His chest contracted sharply.
“This is the second time you’re disturbing me on my day off, Agent Segar,” the Secretary of Homeland answered. “I was taking a nap.”
Ben was pretty sure the woman didn’t sleep but he didn’t bother contradicting her.
“My apologies,” he said as they pulled onto the highway. “But it seems I’m going to have to put my carte blanche authority into action.”
“Meaning?”
“Ronoff’s friends visited me at my home.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath.
“I’m going to need a quiet crime scene cleanup.”
“How many bodies?”
“Two. One is outside so this needs to happen fast.”
He could hear her typing. “Done. Anything else?”
“Yeah. I need a ride to the Think Tank.”
“Is the woman still with you?”
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Quinn. She didn’t bother disguising the fact she was listening to his conversation intently.
“Yep,” he replied.
He expected his boss to raise a red flag about taking a civilian—who by now, he very much doubted Quinn was—to a secure, top-secret location. But the secretary didn’t hesitate. Evidently, she knew as well as he did it was the best place to keep Quinn safe and secure.
“Done.”
“I’ll pick it up at the marina on Fort McNair in ten minutes.”
“There will be a coast guard cutter waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
With that, the secretary hung up.
“You sounded a little like James Bond there calling Miss Moneypenny. More friends in high places, I presume?”
He punched another number into the phone. “Something like that.”
“Miss me already?” Adam joked when he answered.
Ben’s chuckle was a bit hollow. Apparently, he was on the run with someone whose skills with guns were comparable to his friend’s. The fact that Adam was renowned to be the best sharpshooter in the world had Ben a little on edge. Hell, everything about the woman made him edgy.
“Avoid the townhouse,” he warned. “We had company.”
Adam bristled through the phone. “Everyone alright?”
“Everyone on our side is,” Ben replied, hoping like hell Quinn actually was on their side.
“Where are you? What can we do?”
“Nothing. I’ve got this.”
“Bennett—”
He ended the call. His purpose was to keep Adam from walking into something that wasn’t of his making. Not to involve him in whatever game Ronoff was playing. The assassin had been surprised Quinn was alive. It was probably better she’d shot both of them so that information didn’t get back to Ronoff. Still, the question of what Ronoff wanted from Ben remained. Not to mention how Quinn fit into the puzzle.
“Annie Oakley, perhaps you could slide the gun under the seat and check the back for a jacket or something.”
She did as he asked and handed him one of Griff’s hockey jerseys. The damn thing smelled like it hadn’t been washed in months. It was large enough to pull over his head easily, though, so Ben really couldn’t complain. Just outside the main gate, he pulled over to the curb and began to cautiously maneuver the jersey over his head, grunting as he did so.
“Oh, my gosh,” Quinn cried. “That’s not sweat, that’s blood. He stabbed you!”
He swore as he pulled the jersey over his injured shoulder. “Yeah, but lucky for you, I’ll live. I’ve had wounds that were much worse.”
She seemed genuinely surprised at that.
Ben snorted in annoyance. “Let’s hope this thing doesn’t soak through this jersey in the next three minutes so we can get past the MPs.”
Pulling his ID from his wallet he drove to the gate. The military policeman leaned in through the window to get a better look at his ID before he caught sight of Quinn and gave her the once over.
“Where are you two headed?” the MP asked, his eyes still drinking her in.
“Over to the marina to meet a friend,” Ben replied,