He shook his head. “I sincerely doubt that.”
She started to say more but then closed her mouth.
“I know you’re frightened for your parents, but I’ve used the ploy multiple times, always with success. It’s all going to work out. All you have to do is—”
“Trust you,” she interjected. “I know. And I do.”
She was suddenly in his arms kissing him with the fervor of a woman clinging to a lifeline. For his part, he let her have her way with his mouth, sighing with encouragement while he dragged his fingers up and down her back to soothe her. If this was her way of unleashing all of her pent-up emotions, he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.
He was going to complain about the loud knocking on the door, however.
Except it was his boss.
“Agent Segar,” the secretary called. “We need to strategize a response to Ronoff.”
Quinn shivered at the mention of the Russian’s name, but her eyes were focused and her cheeks flushed when she pulled away from him. Even more encouraging, there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.
“She’s right,” Quinn whispered. “I’m sorry for being such a twit.”
He lifted her chin with his fingers. “If being a twit always ends with you kissing me senseless, then I think I can put up with it every now and then.” He kissed the tip of her nose and reached for the doorknob.
“Ben.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Whatever happens, I need you to know that I love you too.”
His heart stuttered to a stop before beginning to pound again. This time he didn’t bother hiding his smile.
She grinned shyly back. “I loved you thirteen years ago,” she admitted. “And I never stopped. I never will.”
Words failed him. He leaned in to brush a swift kiss across her mouth instead.
“Agent Segar!” The secretary’s tone was becoming a lot more urgent.
Swearing in aggravation, Ben linked his fingers through Quinn’s and pulled open the door. The secretary wore an annoyed expression while the president looked bemused.
“We need to talk about this before Ronoff reaches out again,” the secretary stated.
He began to follow her back to the Situation Room when Quinn tugged on his hand.
“I think I’ll leave this to you Yanks,” she said. “I’m too emotionally involved to be objective.” She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go find Josslyn. Maybe there’s some cake left upstairs.”
Reluctantly, he let her fingers slide from his. There was no doubt she wasn’t objective. And he would definitely think more clearly without her there. But he still felt bereft when she walked away from him. As if he were not completely whole. The feeling should have scared the hell out of him.
Except it didn’t.
Quinn practically curtsied to the secretary. “Ma’am. If you’ll excuse me.”
“I’ll have someone escort you upstairs.”
Caracas hustled forward. “I’d be happy to.” He aimed his smarmy smile at Quinn. “It just so happens I love cake. It would be my pleasure to help you hunt for some.”
Ben growled low as he took a step toward the other agent, but the secretary already had her hand up to stop him as though she had eyes in the back of her head.
“Stand down, Agent Caracas,” she ordered. “Fortunately, you’re not the only one here who enjoys a slice of cake. I happen to know Dorothy does, too.”
Dorothy firmly placed her hand on Quinn’s back and was steering her toward the residence before Caracas knew what hit him. Quinn glanced over her shoulder, shooting an amused grin in Ben’s direction. He relaxed a bit seeing her smile.
She loved him.
He’d waited years to hear her say the words. And now she had. It was like a weight had been lifted from his heart. The jury was still out on whether or not she fully trusted him, but he figured they had a lifetime to work on that.
“Agent Segar,” the secretary prompted.
With one last peek at Quinn before she disappeared down the long hall, he made his way back into the Situation Room. He had a fish to catch. A big one.
*
Quinn did her best to appear calm on the outside. But on the inside, she was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Beginning with her feelings about Ben.
He loves me.
His love was a gift she never expected to receive. Especially after the way she treated him thirteen years ago. Last night, he’d been a caring partner. She’d expect nothing less from him. But it had been too much to hope that their love-making meant as much to him as it did to her. Except it apparently did. She was so giddy, she wanted to dance and laugh and shout about it to the heavens.
Except she couldn’t. Not when he was putting himself in so much danger. He didn’t know Alexi Ronoff like she did. While she didn’t doubt Ben’s ability to outsmart his opponents, there was still the wildcard of the unknown traitor to deal with.
Trust no one, her handler had warned her.
Despite her little outburst moments ago, she trusted Ben. But that didn’t mean she was happy about him taking on so much danger to protect her and her parents. Keeping her parents safe was something she needed to take care of herself. And she needed to do it quickly. She fingered the burner phone she’d nicked from his desk earlier. It was aptly named because she suddenly felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket.
Dorothy led them up a flight of stairs to the first-floor lobby of the West Wing. The offices were mostly empty as the older woman steered them toward the Cabinet Room, then past the press offices. The rose garden was on their right, offering a sanctuary from all the chaos of the weekend. A marine guard held the door for them as they crossed into the residence via the Palm Room.
“Is there a loo on this level, by chance, Dorothy?” she asked as soon as they entered the Center Hall.
“In the Map Room.” Dorothy led the way to a room decorated in Chippendale furniture and the aforementioned maps. “I’ll be right here waiting.”
Quinn was relieved the other woman didn’t follow her into the toilet. Still, she only had a few minutes to accomplish her mission before she was sure Dorothy would come in after her. Once inside, she powered up the burner phone. Her hands shook as she dialed her mother’s number. Before it even connected, a voice came on and informed her the phone didn’t have international service.
It was worth a shot.
She weighed her options. Calling the British embassy was too risky. Not until they knew who the traitor was. Her only recourse was to reach out to her handler on the nonsecure line and have him get a message to her parents. Punching in the number she’d committed to memory years ago, she texted him telling him she was very much alive, Alexi didn’t have the list, but her parents were still in grave danger. She asked him to please make sure every precaution was taken to ensure their safety. That would have to do for now.
Just as she was about to power off the phone, however, an incoming text came in, surprising her. Her handler wanted to meet. It was urgent, he insisted. Impossible, she nearly typed back before considering the possibilities. What did he mean by urgent? Had her parents’ safety already been compromised? Or had the traitor been located? Could there be a way of keeping Ben from confronting Alexi?