Page 109 of Secret Service


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Eventually, his breathing evens out as he falls into the sleep of the dead. I watch his shoulders rise and fall as the minutes bleed away.

Twenty-four hours ago, Brennan and I were giving in to the intensity of our love. We became one last night, our separate bodies only echoes of some larger, deeper truth between us. Now we’re shattered in every way two hearts can break.

Fitful, restless sleep claws at me, and when I wake up, my eyes are still swollen and scratchy. Henry is gone, but on the coffee table there’s a sheet of paper on top of a folded stack of clothes. Khakis and a Secret Service polo. Spares from Henry.

Boss,

I’ll take your suit in with mine to the dry cleaners. Borrow these for today. I’m riding the Metro in, so take the SUV whenever you head out. There’s coffee, milk, cereal, and tequila in the kitchen. Pick your poison.

He anchored the note with the SUV keys, my BlackBerry… and my burner phone. He must have found it in the bottom of my duffel when he dug out my suit.

The message indicator is flashing.

There’s only one person in the world who can text this phone.

I hold it in my hands, staring at the darkened screen, before finally swiping it on.

Brennan: I don’t understand what changed between New York and what you said to me last night. I don’t think I ever will. Please know that I will always, always cherish what we shared, even if it doesn’t mean the same to you. I won’t contact you again. Goodbye, Reese.

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