Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(6)
Steady squeezed the beer bottle so hard it was a wonder the thing didn’t shatter. Dan was right. Since President Thompson had tasked him with flying to the other side of the globe to help protect Abby while she attended the New Frontiers in Horticulture Convention—sí, it was a thing. Who knew?—he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. And although he hadn’t seen or heard from her in eight years, she was just as he remembered…
Slim, blond, pretty in an all-American kind of way, which seemed appropriate given she was the youngest daughter of the president of the United States. She still had those arresting green eyes that’d stopped him in his tracks when he met her on the Georgetown campus all those years ago. She still had that same sweet, luminous smile that’d fueled his fantasies back then and most of his daydreams since.
She’s too young for you, he remembered the scolding tone in Rosa’s voice. And even if she isn’t, she’s too far out of your league. You think her father wants her dating a maldito bori when he’s got a national election to win?
He’d winced at the slur while at the same time knowing his sister was right. The difference between Abby’s age and his had seemed insurmountable at the time. A gulf in life experience as wide and impassible as the vastness of space. But she was all grown up now, wasn’t she? A woman, as in whoa-man. Everything guaranteed to rev his engine in one fair-haired little package.
Unfortunately, that whole maldito bori thing hadn’t changed. Even with his multiple degrees and that Army Ranger pin stuck to the lapel of the uniform hanging in his closet back home, he was still just the son of uneducated immigrants who’d spent their lives slinging cervezas and serving rice in a greasy corner café in Miami. And any illusions he’d had that Abby didn’t care about such things was stripped from him the day of Rosa’s funeral.
He’d gone to her thinking maybe she would be his hand to hold, his shoulder to cry on. He’d gone to her thinking they were friends…maybe more than friends, though she had still been far too young for him. He’d needed her so badly that day he’d been willing to ignore the gap in their ages, the impropriety of his making a move, because his remorse, his grief, his need to comfort and be comforted had outweighed anything else. But he’d been wrong to think she might consider him worthy of her affection. She’d made it obvious that Rosa, and Rosa’s position as her academic mentor, had been the only glue holding the three of them together.
Abby may have exchanged her premed degree for one in botany, she may have traded in her scalpel for a garden spade, but like her appearance, nothing else about her was any different. She was still Abigail Thompson, the first daughter. America’s princess. And he was still…well…him.
“So, are you gonna let me in on the history between you two?” Dan asked when Steady had been quiet for too long.
“No history,” he quickly replied. At least none worth speaking of.
“Yeah, I call bullshit.”
And now it was his turn to pull out the ol’ Black Knights’ tried-and-truism. “So, what if it is? You think I want to talk about it? What are we? Girlfriends?”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Then you’re happy we’re headed out tomorrow? Happy to wave your good-byes to her?”
And that thought made Steady’s scalp itch. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times since we took this gig”—he kept his voice barely above a whisper—“but I don’t buy that nonsense about Abby’s big sister being the likely target of this prospective kidnapping just because she followed in her father’s political footsteps to become a congresswoman.” He used his thumb to pick at the beer’s label, succeeding in peeling the corner away. He attacked the glue left behind with the blunt edge of his nail. “Being a government bigwig doesn’t make Caroline any more attractive than Abby to those factions looking for leverage to use against the president.”
“Look, man, you read the NSA Intel the president gave us as closely as I did. All signs point to Caroline.” Dan loosened his tie. They were here at the hotel under the guise of businessmen. Only the president, his JCs, and the Secret Service knew their real assignment—to provide auxiliary security for Abby when she wasn’t safely ensconced in her room for the night. Like she was right now.
And Dan was right, of course. All signs did point to Caroline. And since that was the case, President Thompson, who secretly ran Black Knights Inc. along with the Joint Chiefs, was only requiring Abby be given BKI protection when she was OCONUS—outside the contiguous U.S. Whereas Caroline had had a supplementary BKI force assigned to her every day of the last six weeks. Ever since the first peep of a possible kidnapping came over the wires.
“Chin up.” Dan elbowed him. “By oh-seven-hundred tomorrow morning we’ll be hopping on a plane. And then none of this will be your problem. It’ll be bye-bye bullet-catcher duty and bye-bye you know who.”
Bye-bye you know who? After eight long years apart, was he really ready to bid farewell to her again so soon? The answer to that question shouldn’t make his heart ache. Mierda.
He took a sip of beer, hoping the pain in his chest was simply indigestion brought on by the nasi kerabu he’d eaten for lunch—I mean, the blue rice should’ve been your first clue, pendejo. But the minute the suds touched his tongue, he grimaced. Plunking the beer on the bar, he scrubbed the back of his hand over his lips. “Madre de Dios,” he grumbled. “Why can’t they brew a decent beer on this side of the planet?” Dan’s expression hardened when his eyes landed on the abandoned bottle. “Sorry.” Steady winced. “I, uh, I guess any beer sounds good right about now, huh?”