He flew to an abandoned apartment complex in Rathdown Street, stayed there for half an hour, and then he went across to a low profile men's club in Spencer Street. He actually returned about ten minutes ago."
"Did we manage to get observers at either place?"
"Not the first one, but definitely at the second."
"Who'd he meet?"
Jenna gave an unladylike snort. "The minister enjoyed several lap dances, and then disappeared into the members' only section. Where, we discovered, a more exotic range of services is offered."
"So basically, the minister had himself a hooker this afternoon?"
"Better her than me," Jenna said, amusement in her low voice. "I'll do my lot for kin and country, but I have limits. And f**king a man like Wetherton is definitely one of them."
"That's not just limits, that's called having taste."
"That too." She smiled as she leaned sideways and snagged her coat off the hook behind the door. "Luckily, the lecher is yours to deal with for the next twelve hours."
"Joy."
"Indeed." Jenna waved a good-bye and retreated quickly to the elevator. Sam closed the door and turned around to find Wetherton watching her from the bedroom doorway.
She raised an eyebrow and tried to ignore the heat of embarrassment touching her cheeks. She and Jenna had been speaking softly, so there was very little likelihood of Wetherton hearing their comments. And yet, the annoyance in his eyes suggested otherwise.
"Anything I can do for you, Minister?" she asked politely.
"Where's Jenna going?"
"Shift change, Minister. You have my delightful company once again this evening."
He looked her up and down. "We're going out again tonight.
You could have worn something more appropriate."
"I'm your body guard, not your date. I'm dressed very appropriately, believe me."
He grunted—whether in agreement or not, she had no idea—then turned around and walked back into the bedroom.
She waited until he came back out and asked, "Where are we going tonight, Minister?"
She actually knew, because she'd read his schedule, but it never hurt to check.
"The opera. I'm meeting a friend there."
Just as well she had checked. The opera certainly hadn't been listed on the schedule. "Minister, until we uncover who might be after you, maybe it would be better to skip some of your social engagements."
"No. I refuse to let the actions of an idiot unhappy with current government policy curtail what I want to do. That's only giving other idiots incentive to do the same."
"I think the men behind the attempted hits are more than just idiots with a bone to pick with the government."
"You'd be surprised, Agent Ryan. These days the government certainly collects a high caliber of idiot." He shoved his arms into his jacket. "Let's go. I cannot be late."
She opened the door, checked the corridor, and then ushered him through. "Am I permitted to ask who you might be meeting tonight?"
"Just a friend." He glanced at her as he pressed the elevator button. "A male friend."
Uh-huh. He'd heard them all right. "A trusted male friend or merely an acquaintance?"
Wetherton hesitated. "Acquaintance, but I trust him."