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“If you’re allowed to leave the house,” Liz pointed out. “How do you feel about searching his room?”
“Like I might get murdered if he catches me.” After all, if she was right, Matthew Kemp had already killed one of her closest friends. “But if I get the chance, I’ll probably take it anyway. I can always come up with some excuse.”
A brief rap sounded at the door seconds before it opened. As though she’d conjured him up, Matthew Kemp stood in the doorway, along with his equally well-built partner, Clint Gates. Both men had changed into street clothes, showing off their muscular bodies in jeans and T-shirts. Neither one held a candle to Roman, though they were younger and obviously hit the gym on a daily basis. Somehow Roman in a three-piece suit was the height of sexiness to her. She needed to retrain her libido to focus on younger men. Absolutely no one over thirty. Any lover she took from now on would also have to be easy on the eyes—and without a brain in his head.
Unlike Mr. Kemp. Nobody joined the Secret Service on looks alone.
“Hello, Special Agent. What can I do for you today?” Besides steal your phone and illegally search your room and pray you don’t find out?
He sent her a truly sexy smile as he strode into the room. “You and the gorgeous Ms. Matthews can grace us with your presence tonight. We enjoyed talking to you two last night.”
How could she say no when that might give her another shot at his phone? “Well, we’ve been asked to stay in this evening.”
Clint backed his partner up. “We know. We’re supposed to keep a quiet watch on you, make sure you don’t get into any trouble. It’s like asking the fox to watch the henhouse, really. Look, ladies, we’re not trying to get you into trouble. We simply want to spend a little more time with you.” He looked Liz’s way. “Unless I misunderstand, and whatever is between you and the president is serious. Then I’ll back off.”
She watched Liz shake off her sorrow as she stood with a smile. “There’s nothing at all between me and the president except the fact that he’s my boss. So if we can’t leave, what do you two suggest?”
“Well, we brought in some dinner. A guy from the PM’s detail gave us a tip about the best takeout in London. We’ve got it set up in the kitchen, so it’s informal,” Matthew explained. “We might have also gotten some beer and wine and requested to use the theater room. We scored an early copy of that new spy film all the girls are crazy about.”
Liz squealed a little. “Love After Death? I read that book a hundred times. I’m so excited to see the movie. It’s the new Fifty Shades. I think we can make this work, gentlemen.” She sent Gus a wink. “There’s a brief call with a small newspaper here in Ohio I need Gus to take in about an hour. But I’ll make sure you guys aren’t too bored while she’s gone. Other than that, we’re all yours.”
Stroke of brilliance. Liz could keep the boys occupied while Gus wandered up and searched the room Matthew shared with Clint. It was the perfect cover. Liz was always on her phone. If something started going sideways, she would send Gus a 911, advising her to hightail it out of there.
“What do you think?” Liz was smiling her way but Gus saw the challenge in her eyes.
The woman knew exactly what she was doing and she was a perfect partner in crime. Gus gave Matthew the once-over. He was a gorgeous hunk. Too bad he might have killed her best friend. “I think that sounds lovely. When do you want to start?”
Matthew held a hand out to her. “No time like the present.”
She gave him a wide, totally fake smile and let him lead her out of the office, more than ready to start her real work.
* * * *
An hour later, Gus stood up and stretched. “Time for my press call. Don’t pause the movie. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Matthew looked up at her, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”
She shook her head. “I’ve actually already seen it. I was invited to the premiere. It’s so good. There’s a scene in the elevator coming up that’s hysterical. Be back soon.”
Liz looked over from the screen and winked. She had her phone by her side.
They’d come up with a protocol. If Matthew left the room, Liz would text a single emoji to let Gus know he was on the loose. Gus would then hightail it out of his room and run as fast as she could back to the theater. It would be okay. She wouldn’t get caught and she would have at least a few solid minutes alone in his room.
It wasn’t as good as downloading his phone, but she had to try something. She needed information, and beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Gus picked up the pace the minute she left the theater room, finding the stairs and rushing down one flight, followed by another until she reached the basement where the servants’ quarters were. Lara had been quite vocal when she’d discovered there was a whole floor nowhere near as lovely as the rest of the manor merely housing the help. Luckily, everyone was out on the town this evening, so the actual servants had the night off. The remaining people—the security staff—were concentrated outside the building.
Gus knew this was her one shot. She wouldn’t get another.
The floor beneath her squeaked. Wincing, she paused, hearing the house moan again. Was that sound a door opening?
She shook off the worry. Time was limited, so she forced herself forward once more. If she got caught, she had an easy lie on the tip of her tongue: she’d gotten lost after receiving a text from one of her staffers who needed to find a working printer. Since the one in the office wasn’t functioning, she’d had to go looking for another. Actually, that wasn’t a total prevarication. The printer in the office truly wasn’t working. She’d loosened a cord personally before they’d gone to the kitchen for dinner. If she got caught, she would bat her eyes at Matthew or Clint and ask them to fix the infernal machine for her. When they discovered the dangling cord, she would laugh at herself and pretend embarrassment with her abysmal technological shortcomings. They would believe it because they were men and she had boobs.
The ploy would work.
Her heart fluttered with every creep forward. She would have been an awful spy.
As quietly as she could, she turned the handle on the door to the room Matthew shared with Clint and entered, thanking whatever higher power deserved credit for the miracle of having a door without a lock. She waited until she quietly eased the door closed to turn on the light.
The room was Spartan. Nothing but two twin beds, matching nightstands, a dresser, and a mirror.
There was a small notebook and pen on the nightstand. She picked it up, flipping through it, but all it seemed to have was a list of names. Darcy Hildebrandt was the first name on the list, along with a few others. She pulled out her phone. It was likely nothing more than a list of people who would be in and out of the house while the president was in town, but Gus didn’t recognize some of the names. She took a picture of the list and thumbed through the rest of the notebook.
The agent liked to doodle and he was fairly good at it. There was a sketch of Marine One, the helicopter that took the president to the airport. She flipped another page. The president was frowning, his brows furrowed, and a caption under him. No white socks with your suit, Matthew. Are we barbarians?
She smothered a giggle.
There was a sketch of herself and Liz in the White House pressroom. Instead of their normal designer business suits, he’d drawn them as superheroes, with skimpy costumes and knee-high boots. It might have been insulting if not for the caption. Badass Bitches are the Best.
Men. Even when they were complimenting a girl, they were looking at her boobs. With a little smile, she flipped the page.
When she caught sight of the next image, her entire body went cold.
Maddox Crawford. He was wearing jeans and a collared shirt, and he was standing by his airplane, giving the artist the thumbs-up sign.
How long had Matthew stood there? Had he watched Mad go through his preflight check to make sure the bomb he’d place
d on the plane hadn’t been discovered? Had he hidden in the shadows and drawn the man he was about to murder?
She closed the notebook and noticed a small pad of sticky notes by the phone. There were indentations, as though someone had written a note, the pressure of the pen leaving the details on the page beneath. She pulled off the top three and shoved them in her pocket.
Where was his luggage? She opened the closet door, ready to go through anything she could find.
How much time had passed? Four, maybe five minutes?
The closet was divided into two sections, but oddly looked exactly the same. Four black suits and white dress shirts hung on either side. There were loafers below, again the same, though one set was slightly larger than the other. The standard Secret Service uniform.
There was a duffel bag to her right that she thought she recognized as Matthew’s. She dropped to her knees, ready to rifle through it. Behind her, the bedroom door opened.
Gus went stock-still and prayed she wasn’t discovered by someone who had no qualms about murder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I had the loveliest evening,” Darcy said, leaning into Roman as the limo pulled into the drive. “Are you sure it has to end?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just because the president and Mimi lacked chemistry doesn’t mean our evening has to be over.”
Zack snorted slightly, letting Roman know he’d heard Darcy’s murmured come-on.
