he needed it, but he was one of the largest campaign donors to Senator Townes, and if he wanted to pay them for security, then so be it.
CCM was partnering with the Secret Service, as well as local law enforcement. Jody had voluntarily piped up to be the appointed detail. She needed to prove to herself she could be around Evan with no effect, and she wanted him and her former colleagues to see she was still capable—had always been capable—of providing excellent security.
“Hey, if Wilder picks up on any of this anxiety, he’ll yank you from the op. You want that?” Cosette leaned against the counter, forcing eye contact with Jody. “Do you?”
No. Nothing would come between her and the job. She wouldn’t let Wilder down. He’d immediately given her sanctuary here at the plantation home turned agency and offered her a job, no questions asked. Not because he was her first cousin, but because he believed in her ability and ignored the lies that she’d been drinking on duty while safeguarding the vice president’s adult son, even though the evidence had been incriminating.
“I want to accomplish the mission. And I don’t want Evan Novak to emotionally affect me ever again.” She finished her coffee. “I also don’t want a couch therapy session later.”
Cosette’s dark eyes flashed, the Cajun in her making itself present in that feisty expression. “Mmm-hmm...keep telling yourself that. It’s happening.”
A knock on the door saved her a friendly argument. “Come in.” Wilder opened the door, looming in the doorway. Suit. Tie. “You clean up nice, cuz,” Jody said.
He flicked his gaze to Cosette. “Y’all ready to rock and roll? Lipstick perfect?” He glanced at Jody. “Gun secure?”
Cosette was coming today? It better not be as Jody’s babysitter; like she’d have an emotional meltdown in public. As if reading her thoughts, Cosette laid a hand on Jody’s. “I’ll be in the camera room, watching people and doing threat assessments.” As a body-language and criminal-behavior expert, if someone was twitchy in the crowd and up to no good, Cosette would spot them.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jody grabbed a pack of mints, tucked them in her pocket and breezed past Wilder, but he caught her arm, the playfulness in his eyes dimming. “Are you ready?” he asked with a softer tone.
What he meant was if she was ready to see Evan. “Yes.”
“Then put your A-game face on.” He released his brotherly grip and she marched outside the agency. The rest of the team, Beckett Marsh and Shepherd Lightman, were waiting by the black Suburban. Dark sunglasses hid their eyes, but she felt their stares. She might simply be paranoid. Maybe it was the tense political climate these days. Things could become dangerous. Fast. Jody’s gut turned.
At the convention center, police were already in place. They strode toward the conference room. Cosette tapped her shoulder. “You left this on the counter.” She handed her the small jar of vapor rub. She never left home without it—not with her genetic condition, hyperosmia, which heightened her olfactory senses. The vapor rub helped push out the overwhelming amount of smells that most people never noticed or couldn’t detect.
Leaving it at home affirmed she was distracted. The expression on Cosette’s face let Jody know she’d thought the same thing.
“I’m fine.” Time to pull it together.
Wilder opened the door and inside sat a half-dozen agents. Evan Novak stood front and center. Jody’s belly corkscrewed. Clean-cut, hazelnut-colored hair. Straight nose. Clear blue, hooded eyes and a smile that said he was old money, spoiled and full of mischief, but that wasn’t true. At least the first two.
Introductions were made, but Jody refrained from shaking Evan’s powerful hand. Besides, he didn’t offer. Wilder gave him a cool stare and then proceeded with the security parameters and details as well as the lineup of events. After about forty-five minutes of discussion, Jody headed to the coffee bar in the conference room.
She smelled Evan approach, his wonderful scent stamped into her memory. Cinnamon and citrus. Rain and hypoallergenic, scent-free laundry detergent—which had a subtle smell. Why would he still use that now that they weren’t together? Habit or as a courtesy for her? Having a highly increased sense of smell was a blessing and a plague. It sometimes brought on migraines and severe nausea. Right now, it helped brace herself for the encounter. She bristled.
“No sneaking up on you, is there?” he asked. “You cut your hair.”
She inhaled deeply and turned.
His eyes roamed over her hair and trailed to her face, as if he was checking to see if it matched his memory of her. “I like it.” He reached out like he was going to touch her freshly cut bob but refrained at the last second. Wise choice. She’d hate to put his behind on the ground for his colleagues to see. “I want to talk to you after the rally, if that’s okay.”
“About what?” She worked to remain calm. As if she didn’t care, as if she wasn’t still in excruciating pain over what he’d done—more like what he hadn’t done. When she’d come out of that hotel room carrying his empty booze bottles to protect him, she never expected journalists to be in the hallway, but security had been breached because Evan had mixed playing hard with working hard and, for the first time since she’d known him, compromised the job.
Her picture had been plastered all over news media sites and TV. Evan was supposed to stand up for her, but in the end he hadn’t. Probably because he’d been angry when she’d threatened to leave him if he ever pulled a stunt like drinking on the job again. But that night he’d crossed a line and knew it. They’d fought and she had charged from the room with the bottles in hand. Jody never should have covered for him, but the simple fact was, she’d loved him. And she’d wanted to help him. Evan hadn’t made mistakes like that before. Threatening to leave him would have kept him in line. Or so she thought. They’d never know now.
He’d let her go down drowning. If she kept mulling it over now, she’d never get the job done today.
“I think you know,” he said, his soft tone hypnotizing her. He’d always had that kind of power. “Can we?”
She swallowed.
“You’re hesitating. That’s a no.” He leaned down to peer into her eyes. “But we need to talk. At some point.”
Ugh. This man still knew her like he knew binary codes. And he knew those well. But he wouldn’t pass for the typical computer-geek stereotype that was represented in TV shows and movies. “Let’s just get through the day.” She bypassed him, her hand shaking.
Wilder stood at the helm. “If you’re not a praying person, you’re welcome to step out, but at CCM we pray before we do a job.” No one left the room. He nodded once and team member Beckett Marsh stepped up. Wilder always called for the prayer, but he’d never once led it. Beckett prayed for their protection, wisdom and safety for all.
The convention center was already filling up, the crowd’s conversation creating a dull roar. The backdrop bled red, white and blue. Chairs flanked the podium, which protruded front and center from the pristine stage. Excitement, concessions, sweat and hundreds of perfumes and colognes hung in the air, sending Jody’s senses into overload. She dabbed vapor rub above her upper lip to help her nose stay focused and tamp down on a possible headache.
A local official introduced Senator Townes.
“Ready,
