Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(24)
"I don't know. I'd have to see the one who paid him," I said.
"Is that how this works?" August asked.
"As nearly as I can explain it," I shrugged.
"Corinne, how long have you been able to do this?" August asked. I hugged myself.
"For a while," I said. "But who'd believe me?"
"I'm starting to believe you now," August muttered.
Dalton Parrish called Dr. Shaw when the panic attack came.
*
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"I think we should call a meeting with the President. I want the others to know what we know, and I need her permission to do that. I don't want to see another episode of Becker threatening to hit Corinne," Shaw fumed.
"There's still no guarantee he won't make an attempt," I said.
"At the moment, Corinne is of more use to us than Becker ever was."
"That's true, and I never thought it could happen. Becker's only gift is muscle, and the President is reluctant to let that out often."
"Because Becker is stupid enough to get captured," Shaw said. "If his captors do any medical workup on him, we're screwed."
"And that's why he's only sent out with Nick or some of the others," I agreed. "When they know muscle is needed. After that little showdown with Rafe, though, he may not be the first choice for muscle from now on."
"He may realize that, even if Nick hasn't pointed it out, yet," Shaw shook his head. "Before, it was the Five against one. That dynamic may have changed. Becker won't like being replaced; you know that."
"Is he stupid enough to take it out on the weakest one—like always?" I toyed with a file on my desk—James had collected my notes from the Camp David meetings and sent an electronic copy to the President. Corinne was featured prominently in those notes. This was my copy—for my private files.
"I think we should pay special attention to Becker from now on. If he's about to retaliate for any reason, I want to know about it."
"Then give the order. You have the authority."
"I want backup. You're the logical choice."
"Then you have it."
*
Corinne
Our bedrooms were bugged, except on sex nights. I think it had something to do with the list, but I sure didn't want to ask. Sex between partners was off-limits for the Mansion's collective entertainment. Our bathrooms were the only rooms not bugged, and let's face it, bathrooms should just be private, period.
Rafe had done the usual in Krav Maga. He sent an e-mail to me afterward; I found it when I made my way to the computer, cup of coffee in hand, to sit down and write.
You're getting stronger, he said. You might consider lifting weights with me.
Got any five-pound weights? I shot back.
Yes, but those are for sissies.
Really? What do you think I am?
You can lift more than five pounds. I saw you manhandle that bag of flour.
Right. Lifting that weight, however, had a purpose. All-purpose, if I remember correctly.
Lifting weights has a purpose, too. You can do weights with me after Krav Maga lessons, three days a week.
Joy.
James spots me.
Really?
He does. He likes to look at my crotch.
TMI. Besides, there's nothing wrong with wishful thinking.
Understood. I told him from the beginning I was straight, but there's nothing wrong with window shopping.
I'm glad you have a good attitude about that. James is pretty awesome.
He's probably reading this right now.
That wasn't why I said it.
I know.
Fifteen seconds later, I got an e-mail from James.
Thank you! When are you baking cookies again?
How about the weekend?
We may be busy on the weekend.
Joy.
Fifteen minutes later, Auggie was on my doorstep, with James, Dalton and Rafe. We had a meeting in my kitchen. It involved a two-week trip to London and Paris with the Secretary of State, Maye, Kevin, Ken and our respective handlers. I wanted to have a panic attack. I didn't.
*
"You've been outfitted and packed. All you need is pajamas and underwear," James informed me when August and Dalton left. Rafe and James had stayed behind with me in the kitchen.
"Somebody bought for me again?" I squeaked.
"One of the President's assistants. Bought for Rafe and the others, too, so don't hyperventilate."
"James, this is two trips in less than two weeks."
"Think how the Secretary of State feels."
"He wanted that job, remember? Please tell me I won't be squeezed into something too small and require oxygen."
"Too small?" Rafe huffed.
"Shut up, you. You're annoying."
"I thought I was conveying incredulity. My mistake."
"James, can I pay you to drop weights on his head?"
"How much?" James grinned.
"No one will be dropping weights. I'd send you out the door, except that would do me no good at all," Rafe grumbled.
"I'm teasing. James knows that," I said. "Besides, it's my door."
"As I said, it would do me no good at all. You'd only come right back."