If Harrison won the primary, she would be detailed to his campaign that much longer. If he lost, she would undoubtedly be switched to provide security for someone else, which would last all the way through the general election. Either way, I hoped we could see each other just often enough to provide a future where we always had something to look forward to. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
I gulped down the two glasses of bourbon and pouted my way up to bed.
CHAPTER 28
Nantucket Memorial Airport
The Hawker jet made a smooth landing on Runway 45 of Nantucket Memorial Airport on Friday afternoon. Standing outside the gate, I watched the sleek aircraft bearing theCSTClogo taxi around the airfield, finally finding its destination next to the other private planes. Tristan Dent had done well. This was no doubt one of his better toys.
No sooner had the cabin door popped open than I saw Oliver’s eager face peeking out. Meg, JP, and Wolf followed, all of them smiling and waving as they trailed down the stairs.
I’d bet they might have had a beer or two during the short flight from Maryland on Dent Air. My team deserved a good trip, and I was happy to see them. We had so much to catch up on.
Without missing a beat, they pulled all their gear, including five heavy-duty gun cases, from the baggage compartment and made their way to the gate.
Seeing Oliver in his flip-flops and vacation clothes made melaugh out loud. His biceps were stretching the sleeves of his pink-and-white-striped polo shirt, while his tree-trunk legs strained the seams of his light-blue Bermuda shorts.
A huge preppy Black dude with a gun on Nantucket—I loved it. He dropped his gear and gave me a bear hug.
Meg was dressed in a pair of old green jeans and a lightweight yellow cotton T-shirt, accessorized by her signature jewelry: a gold cross around her neck and a men’s Rolex Daytona on her wrist. Her sandy hair was tied back with a funky scarf and her classic Ray-Bans made her look like a hip movie star trying to avoid the paparazzi by dressing down. Intimidating and classy.
JP and Wolf were dressed like goofy twins. Neither could seem to shake the CSTC ensemble; both sported matching tactical khaki pants, hiking boots, and light denim shirts, with Oakley sunglasses wrapped around their temples.
Granted, unlike most summer visitors to Nantucket, they didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought. But I resolved to persuade at least one of them to change before we went to the Wilsons’ party.
After the abrupt end to the last Iraq trip, I was sorry the whole band wasn’t together, especially Rudy. But life gets in the way of fun sometimes. Soon after learning Team Rhino had to leave Iraq, Rudy had found out about a trauma-medicine symposium he could attend in Dallas. It never occurred to him to take a vacation when he could be sharpening his medical skills.
As the five of us made our way to the parking lot, an unmarked Cessna Citation landed on the same runway as the Hawker. I saw a large black Cadillac Escalade with smoked windows waiting near the terminal. No alarm bells for now, but I’d keep an eye out.
We loaded the Defender and headed back across the island tomy place. I had them all in stitches over the jail story. I told them about meeting Si Wilson, and the little soiree planned for his parents’ house this evening.
As we pulled into my driveway, I caught Wolf’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“No funny business with Constance Wilson,” I told him.
“I promise to behave myself,” he swore.We’ll see.
I saw the guard detail at the senator’s house looking over at us. It didn’t strike me as a huge defensive showing—more of an overt display of power should one of the neighbors get drunk and decide to pay the senator a visit.
“Leave the guns in the car for a second,” I cautioned. “I better go let them know you’re here.”
Nobody gave my words a second thought. They just pulled a cooler out of the back and headed inside as I walked over to give Rowan’s crew a heads-up on my guests.
There were three agents on the perimeter out front. The peaked roof afforded no perch for a sniper. I figured there were probably one or two inside the house, as well as a few in back and maybe a couple on the beach. No doubt the rest of the team was either roaming the area or hanging out back in town, waiting for the next shift.
I immediately recognized the agent who had cockblocked me last night, so I gave him a wave. He said a few words into his communication mouthpiece and walked toward me. I told him I was hosting a few guests for the weekend; in the interest of being a good neighbor, I wanted to keep Uncle Sam informed.
The front door opened and Rowan headed in our direction. I noticed her looking at my house, where I caught all four of my misfits laughing. She gave me a glare.
“You didn’t tell me you’d invited weekend guests. Do they have guns too?”
It wasn’t a friendly question. She was pissed off. If there was a hint of intimacy left over from last night, it wasn’t registering on my radar.
“Actually, I did tell you about my guests the other day. And yes, they all are carrying guns—legitimately licensed, I might add.”
This set her off completely.
“Why the fuck would you have four people with guns here tonight? Of all nights, Nat—why this night? For Chrissake, do you have any idea what a pain in my ass this is going to be? Thanks a whole fucking lot, Nat.”
