Quinn wanted to object. She really did. But his hands and his mouth were doing such a marvelous job removing her clothing, she decided it was better to just let herself be distracted.
The cadence of their lovemaking was different than it had been the night before. Despite the looming confrontation with Alexi and the potential unmasking of the traitor, the urgency between them was replaced by a more profound coupling. Earlier, they had both confessed their love to one another. Now, they were letting their bodies express that love.
This is home. This was who the real Quinn Darby was. The woman Ben Segar loved. The woman made better by his love. Now that he’d found that woman, he was never letting her go.
*
Adam handed Quinn a Glock.
“How comfortable are you with this type of handgun?” he asked.
Across the room, Ben’s chest swelled with pride. “Comfortable enough to fire a perfect kill shot twice yesterday.”
“You took those guys down?” The awe in his friend’s voice was unmistakable.
“Ben was occupied in both instances.”
He appreciated how she tried to downplay the incident.
“In that case,” Adam laid a cache of guns on the table. “Choose your poison.”
“Hey, Bennett, are you paying attention over here?” Griffin demanded.
“Yeah, sorry.” He inserted the earwig into his ear.
“This device functions similarly to a standard-issue Secret Service comm,” Griffin explained. “But it’s undetectable. You’ll be able to hear us, but you won’t have the advantage of an attached microphone, but that’s what this little beauty is for.”
He slid what looked like a button cover over the second button on Ben’s golf shirt.
“This will record your conversation with Ronoff. We’ll know the instant anything goes south. See if you can get him to talk about his other illegal enterprises. Specifically, the money laundering and the cryptocurrency schemes. Whatever you can get will bolster our case.”
“It’s probably better if I play dumb and let him do the talking. The more pointed questions I ask, the more likely he is to catch on to what I’m really doing.”
“Huh.” Griffin donned an impressed look. “I forgot you’re more in touch with your covert side than either of us are. Do what you do best, Boy Genius, and the rest of us will listen in with awe.”
“Too bad Kevlar would be noticeable beneath his shirt,” Adam said. “I’d feel a lot better if he wore a vest.”
Ben shook his head. “Too risky. But the secretary needs to be wrapped in it.”
Secretary Lyle chose that moment to enter the room with Dorothy in tow. “Thank you for the confidence, Agent Segar.”
Dorothy shot Ben a withering look.
“I’ll be taking my detail in with us,” the secretary announced. “Agent Lockett, will you please fill the two agents in before you make your way to the harbor?”
She rounded the conference table to where Quinn was inspecting the weapons.
“I guess we should make your boyfriend happy.” She handed Quinn a vest. “But make sure you can fit it under your blouse. I don’t want the tourists to get jumpy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Quinn shot him a saucy look and mouthed the word “boyfriend” as she took the vest and headed into the restroom to put it on.
“Ronoff will expect you to arrive via your boat,” the secretary continued.
“We’ve already got that covered.” Griff pulled up video of the National Harbor on the screen. “Once Ronoff’s yacht drops anchor, Ben will sail in.”
“I’m headed to Fort McNair now to wait on Agent Keller’s signal.”
The secretary gestured to his shoulder. “Are you okay to sail with your injury?”
“It’s just a scrape.”
She arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Agent Lockett is assigning one of the tactical team to me,” Ben conceded. “He’ll be aboard as backup.”
“Good. Agent Darby and my detail will make our way to the harbor.” She slipped an earwig into her ear. “I want to be in constant communication.”
Quinn emerged from the bathroom with her hair tucked beneath a Washington Nationals baseball cap. Her denim blouse was tied in a bow at her waist just above a pair of white cut-offs. No doubt her Glock was hidden in the fanny pack at her side, but Ben was more concerned with the attention her endless tanned legs would attract. There was no way she would be inconspicuous in that outfit.
Griffin handed her a cell phone and a pair of aviator sunglasses. “There’s a camera imbedded in the lens. It will be transmitting back to us in the van. The phone is your comm. With everyone having a cell phone glued to their ear, no one will even suspect.”
“Got it.” After shoving the phone in her back pocket, she carefully adjusted the sunglass above the bill of the baseball cap and then made her way over to Ben. “Are you sure your shoulder is up to this?” she asked quietly.
“I didn’t hear any complaints about my shoulder a half hour ago,” he murmured.
She blushed. “That’s because I was concentrating on other parts of your physique.”
“Hey, if you two are done whispering over there,” Adam called from across the room. “I’d like to get this show on the road.”
The secretary grabbed her vest. “Get your team in place, Agent Lockett. The rest of us will make our way down to the harbor via different routes.”
Quinn squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For doing this. For still loving me. For everything.”
“Stay safe,” he managed to grind out through his tight throat.
“Coming, Agent Darby?” the secretary called.
It irked Ben how she made it sound like the two women were going to a day spa rather than a covert op. “Keep her safe, too,” he said, gesturing to his boss.
Quinn nodded. Ignoring the rest of the room, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later.”
For the first time since she had catapulted back into this life, Ben watched her leave the room without experiencing an overwhelming premonition he wouldn’t ever see her again. Her promise of the future hung in the air and Ben suddenly couldn’t wait to get this evening over with.
“You’re sure you’re good with this?” Griff asked for what felt like the hundredth time during the ten-minute drive from the White House to Fort McNair.
They were seated in the gray van with the logo from a cable company on the sides disguising a sophisticated command center on the iinterior. Ben was surprised at just how good he was. He double-checked his weapon and replaced it in its holder. Leaning down, he secured the knife at his ankle.
“Yeah, just make sure nothing happens to Quinn, okay?”
“Something tells me she can take care of herself. I’m really sorry about all that shit that went down yesterday. We just didn’t know what to make of her. She hurt you in the past, yet you seemed very protective of her.”
Was that only yesterday? So much had happened since then. The revelation of her true identity. The fragile restoration of their trust. And the rekindling of their love. The past seventy-two hours felt surreal. If he was dreaming, he sure as hell didn’t want to wake up.