Between Love and Honor (Men of the Secret Service #3) - Tracy Solheim Page 0,68

had her game face on. And, judging by the looks of it, she still believed she was playing solo.

“We’re in this together, remember?” he murmured against her ear.

She didn’t respond, but at least she kept her hand firmly in his. He’d take that as a win. No doubt she was peeved he hadn’t confided in her about his plan. Despite how well they worked together between the sheets, it was going to take some time for her to fully accept being part of a team. She wore her bravado like a suit of armor and he wasn’t going to pierce that armor in one day. It would take time. Not too much, he hoped, because he was ready to move on from teammates to being a couple. Losing her a second time was not an option.

The Secret Service agents on both the president’s and secretary’s details fanned off once they reached the Situation Room. Caracas arched an eyebrow when Ben followed Secretary Lyle inside, but for once, the idiot kept his snide remarks to himself. He had no doubt there would be chatter among the agents later as many of them wondered about his role. But it didn’t matter. After tonight, the Mariner would no longer exist.

“Wow. Is that the guy who tried to murder you? I expected him to be a bit more sinister looking.” Josslyn took a step closer to the screen. “He’s more GQ than Terminator.”

Josslyn’s words drew Ben’s attention to the giant screen on the wall where Alexi Ronoff’s ugly mug was staring back at him.

Quinn inhaled a sharp breath and jumped behind him.

“Relax,” he reassured her quietly. “It’s just a video. He won’t know you’re alive.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor Benoit,” the secretary was saying. “As this is a sensitive matter dealing with national security, I’m going to have to ask you leave us.”

Josslyn shot a questioning look at her brother-in-law. The president nodded and pointed toward the door.

She huffed dramatically before wrapping her arms around Quinn. “You’re safe now. We’re all friends here. Trust Ben and his team. They won’t let anyone harm you or your parents.” She gave Quinn’s arm a squeeze. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

He wasn’t sure if Quinn was more stunned by seeing Ronoff’s face three feet high on the wall or Josslyn’s gesture of friendship and support. From what he’d surmised, Quinn hadn’t had a lot of that in her life. He leaned over and brushed a kiss on his friend’s cheek before she could make her way past him.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Yeah, well, you better watch your back with that guy. I’m calling Adam before you run off and do something stupid,” Josslyn warned before flouncing out of the room.

No doubt she would, but this was Ben’s score to settle. He didn’t need his buddies riding shotgun. With any luck, the whole thing would be resolved tonight.

The secretary pressed a button on the wall. “Roll the video.”

Quinn sidled up next to him, their bodies not exactly touching. He intertwined his fingers with hers once again. The video began to play. Alexi Ronoff’s tone was smug as he tossed the micro card presumably containing VOYEUR into the air and caught it again.

“Hello there, Special Agent Ben Segar. Or should I call you by your code name, Mariner?”

Ben blew out a breath. He underestimated how shedding his alter ego would affect him. And that made him despise the Russian on the screen even more than he already did.

“I enjoyed my little visit to your boat the other evening. What a fine vessel she is. Trading information on the dark web does have its perks, does it not? Especially for one trying to make a living on a measly government salary.”

Ben couldn’t stop the snort that escaped.

“Your reputation as an honorable dealer in, shall we say, strategic information precedes you. And it seems we have mutual interests,” Ronoff continued. “Well, aside from a beautiful photographer whom we both seemed to share a love for. Such a pity about her early departure from this earth.”

This time Ben actually snarled at the screen.

Ronoff held the card between two fingers to scrutinize it. “I believe this belongs to you. I’ll admit, I’m a little curious about what exactly all those formulas mean, especially since you are so eager to get it back. But I find I cannot be bothered with this jumble of numbers.” The Russian’s face grew hard. “You are trying to sell something that belongs to me. Something I’ve already paid for.”