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Rankin fired and Payne barked, “Watch for collaterals.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job, PIA,” he returned and fired another round.
Several limbs fell from the flowering bush and Payne muttered, “You got ‘em, Tex.”
She wished she could advance on the shooter but her job, her only job, was to protect the Senator, who was still muttering curse words under the car. Even as a news van pulled up the stubborn man was crawling out from under the SUV. When Rachel opened her mouth to chastise him, he bit out, “I’m not going to be seen cowering, Payne. Now give me a gun or get me into the office building. Your choice.”
A man appeared at their side suddenly, his lean figure hunched to decrease his size. “Let’s go, Senator.” His words were clipped and urgent, but his movements smooth. He took in Rachel and nodded, “You cover the back and I’ll take the front.”
She started to protest when she noted the Senator moving easily and willingly behind the man. She backed toward the entrance to the office building, her eyes on the bush and the spaces between it and them. Cars were parked in between them, giving both her and the shooter space to hide or block a shot. Sweat beaded in the middle of her back as she jogged backward.
Finally, they reached the entrance where the three security officers waited. They grouped around the senator as if they were the ones who’d escorted him from the shooter, but Rachel was too relieved to get angry. She just wanted to get to his office where she could quietly throw up.
“Thanks, Hansen,” the Senator said and dusted his pants and jacket off. “Payne, go get my briefcase, will you?”
She eyed Senator Mitchell. It was her punishment, she knew, from making him crawl under the car. She met his gaze and pulled out her phone. A second later she said, “Hey Rankin. Bring the Senator’s briefcase in, will ya? Thanks.”
She caught the gleam of respect in the Senator’s eyes as he narrowed them. Rankin jogged through the door and handed him the briefcase then went on ahead of them toward the office to “check it out”. Senator Mitchell hadn’t taken his gaze off of Rachel but she didn’t back down. A minute passed before he turned and headed to his office. “I could use a cup of coffee.”
She silently agreed, though she was wide awake now. The man, Hansen, was it, followed them to the office and went in, taking a seat near the big desk as if he belonged there. Rachel noted Rankin’s presence before she went to the coffeemaker in the corner of the room and started a pot.
By the time she’d finished, Rankin had left with orders to return that evening. His job included the drive to and from Maryland, as well as overnight surveillance. While Rachel knew he was good at his job, he’d have to be to have his position, he still rankled her nerves.
“Do you have any info on the situation out there?” Senator Mitchell asked and Rachel thought he was directing the question toward her at first. When she turned from making two cups of coffee, one black and one heavily sugared and creamed, she saw him looking toward the man lounging in the chair across from his desk.
The guy shook his head. “Nope. I heard the call for security and headed out to see what was going on. I was as surprised as you.” He glanced toward Rachel. “Good job, by the way. Don’t know how you got him under the car.”
She nodded and advanced, placing a cup on the senator’s desk. “Thanks, Mr….”
“Hansen, Gavin Hansen,” he said and stood, holding out his hand. Rachel shook it then quickly let go as a warmth spread from her hand to her arm.
“Gavin is an old friend from Kansas. He’s joining the team for a while. Speech writing, that sort of thing.”
"Doesn't look like a speechwriter," she muttered and Hansen grinned.
“I’m a jack of all trades.” He sat back down and crossed his ankle over the other knee. “How’d you get the Senator under the car anyway?”
"My powers of persuasion," she returned and found another chair near the Senator's desk and sat, still gauging this man. If he was a speechwriter, she was a ballerina.
Gavin held backhis grin as the bristly Rachel Payne sat stiff in her chair. Of course, that made him want to lounge in his. What was it about this woman that made him want to provoke her? His talent, blending in, didn’t call for making himself noticeable to people, but Rachel Payne made him want her to see him.
“Gavin is going to be working on our team for a while. He has some expertise I want to draw on with the military issue,” the Senator continued. While Gavin was used to vague speech from politicians, he wasn’t used to it in this man. Grayson Mitchell was a man who’d tell you like it is, whether you liked it or not. It was why his constituents liked him and other politicians feared him. For him to use vague terms instead of telling Payne they’d be working together to bring the drug dealers down was an indication of how little he trusted his security in the Senate office building, or in Washington for that matter.
Payne glanced at Gavin then quickly away to the Senator. “Yes, sir.”
“I want you and Hansen to get on this shooting. Find out what you can. Is it a nutcase or someone associated with our issue.”
She nodded silently and Gavin stood. “We can use my office,” he gestured toward the Senator’s office door.
Payne narrowed her eyes at him. “My job is to protect the Senator, to be with him at all times.”
"Not necessary while I'm in the office. There are at least three security people in this hall alone right now. Got 'em jumpy, that scene in the parking lot."
"They're not the only ones," Payne said quietly and Gavin felt for her. An ex-soldier like she was, and a Shadow Ops agent to boot, she'd not like being ordered to abandon her post.
“We need to work in a secured setting and my office is the only place I trust.” He gestured toward the door again. She frowned at the Senator then stalked to the door.
Gavin’s office at the end of the hall had originally been a closet. When he entered, he noted the room had been occupied, and not by cleaning staff. The trash can, which he tucked under an equally small console table holding a printer, had been moved from one end of the table to the other and there were other less noticeable signs that someone had searched the room. He smiled slightly and advanced to the end of the console table. “Have a seat,” he said over his shoulder as he bent down and removed a small panel from the wall. Within was a safe and he removed a laptop and notebook. When he straightened, he noted Payne was still standing, her eyes narrowed on the computer.
