The Long Game (The Fixer #2)(7)

“Ivy has all her secrets locked away,” I said, turning back to the bare walls. “What does it matter if I come in here if there’s nothing left to see?”

Adam must have heard something in my voice, because he softened his own. “Tess—”

“I had dinner with your father last night.” Nothing shut Adam up faster than mentioning William Keyes. “He wants me to get more involved at Hardwicke.”

Adam gave me a long, considering look. “Do you want to get more involved at Hardwicke?”

“I want to know who Ivy’s talking to in there.”

“Tess.” This time, there was an edge in Adam’s voice—a warning. “Ivy isn’t the only one who wants you kept out of this.”

This as in her current case, or this as in the massive chunk of Ivy’s life from which I’d been barred?

“Tommy wasn’t a person who knew when to quit.” My uncle’s blue eyes held mine. “He wasn’t the type to sit back and think things through.”

“If he had been,” I pointed out quietly, “I wouldn’t be here.” I meant the words to sound flippant. They came out sounding rough.

“I loved my brother. And I see so much of him in you.” Adam’s voice was as rough as mine now. “I’ll be damned before I let you get tangled up in anything dangerous ever again.”

I tamped down on the rush of emotion those words provoked. “Dangerous?”

Silence.

“Who’s in there with Ivy?” I asked again.

Adam kneaded his temple. “Like talking to a wall,” he muttered.

“I can hear you,” I told him. “I’m standing right here.”

He crossed the room until he was toe-to-toe with me. He placed two fingers under my chin, angling my face up toward his. “Don’t push me on this,” he said quietly. “You won’t like the result.”

I’d never met my biological father, but I couldn’t help wondering—if he were alive, if he were here, would he be saying those same words to me, that same quiet warning in his voice?

“Tell me you understand,” Adam ordered.

I understood that if my uncle was this serious about my steering clear, then whoever Ivy was meeting with, whatever she was on the verge of doing—it was big.

“I’m waiting, Tess.”

I held out a moment longer before saying what he wanted to hear. “I understand.”

Adam removed his hand from my chin, trailing it lightly over the back of my head for a moment before stepping back. At his direction, I made my way out of the conference room. Just as I stepped into the hallway, the door to Ivy’s office opened.

Adam was behind me in an instant, his hands resting lightly on each of my shoulders. If he’d had time, he probably would have steered me back out of the hall, but within a heartbeat, Ivy’s gaze landed on me. To an outside observer, her expression and posture would have seemed perfectly relaxed, but I could feel her struggling to hold on to that composure.

She thought I was upstairs.

Bodie appeared behind Ivy and mouthed four words at me: You had one job.

“Adam already read me the riot act,” I told Ivy. Before she could reply, I turned my attention to the man standing next to her. He was in his late twenties. His blond hair was just long enough to be a little messy. His skin was suntanned. There was something familiar about the set of his features.

“It’s fine,” the man told Ivy. “I don’t bite.” The dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, but his voice was wry.

Ivy’s not afraid of you, I thought, studying the way that she stiffened at his words. But she is afraid of something.

“I’m Tess,” I said, since no one seemed inclined to introduce me. After a beat, the man held out a hand.

Adam’s grip tightened slightly on my shoulders.

“Walker,” the man said.

The name triggered something in my brain, and I realized why he looked familiar—and who he resembled.

His mother.

I took his hand. “Walker,” I repeated. “As in Walker Nolan.”

The president’s youngest son.





CHAPTER 6

Ivy refused to say a word about Walker Nolan’s visit. She left shortly after he did and still wasn’t home when I woke up the next morning.

What could the president’s son have said that would send Ivy straight to DEFCON 1?

Before Bodie dropped me off at Hardwicke, he put the obvious into words. “Don’t tell anyone—”

“That the president’s youngest son is in some kind of trouble?” I filled in. “My lips are sealed.”

The night before, I’d stayed up late reading everything I could find online about Walker Nolan. Of the three Nolan sons, Walker was the only one to decline Secret Service protection. He was twenty-nine, stayed more or less out of the limelight, and had spent two years with Doctors Without Borders before his father had taken office. I didn’t need to be a political genius to guess that any scandal involving the president’s son would dominate the news cycle going into midterm elections.

Whatever Walker’s problem was, it had even Bodie on edge. “Not joking, kiddo.” Bodie turned in his seat and fixed me with a stare. “No matter what you see, no matter what you hear—you say nothing.”