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Rachel scrunched her forehead, thinking. “Who is Pritchard?”
“He’s worked for the former majority leader for about six years. Worked as a lobbyist before that. And he’s constantly on our floor, even though his boss is two floors down.” Mitchell narrowed his eyes then took a breath. “Okay, I’m not going to jump the gun, but this one,” he stabbed the sheaf of paper he held, “is my prime suspect.”
"Good deal, Senator. We don't want to make any hasty judgments," Gavin pacified him and Rachel inwardly winced. That tone would only send the Senator into higher levels of suspicion.
Minutes later he cursed again. “Gold. Goddammit, why do all these conversations sound suspicious?”
“Maybe because we want them to,” Rachel said wearily. She needed a break, both from the reading and her charge, who had taken to pacing the room, rustling the plant foliage and muttering. “I’m going to get some coffee. Anyone else want some?”
Gavin shook his head, concentrating on his task. The Senator flapped the paper near his ear and set a giant plant with green and red leaves aquiver.
She walked through the door, down the hall, and out of the patio doors, intent on getting some fresh air. She wandered through the backyard, taking in the smells of the blooming plants and the sound of birdsong.
An odd sound alerted her just before she felt the hot sting of something on her left arm. She dove for the ground as a pot exploded and dirt cascaded all around her.
Bear‘s voice boomed through the house as she belly crawled behind another plant and peered around it. Why hadn’t she brought her weapon, she berated herself, then realized, her foray into the world of computers had dulled her edge. “Idiot,” she whispered and tried to clear her eyes of the dust and dirt particles that were obscuring her vision.
The patio door inched open and Bear appeared, flat on his stomach, his eyes on her. “You hit?”
“A graze on my left arm,” she said, aware of the burning pain rising in her wound. “Do you see anything?”
He shook his head, then said something over his shoulder. “She’s fine.”
“Rachel?” Gavin’s voice came from in the room, sharp and clear.
“I’m fine, I was just clipped by the bullet,” she said, reluctant to lie to him.
“I’m on my way,” he said and Bear grumbled, pushing him back.
“No, stay inside.” She inched toward the house, trying to be as invisible as possible. When nothing happened, she inched closer to the door. Finally, she crawled over the threshold and stood, raining dirt as she did so. Gavin took her in, plucking a root from her shoulder. “What did you do, dive in the pot?”
She slapped at his hand as he brushed the dirt from her uninjured arm. “The shooter got one of the planters. I was on the ground beside it, hence the dirt bath.”
She squeaked as he yanked her in his arms, his own around her waist. “God, I don’t want that to happen again. You want to go for a walk, tell me. You want to drive to the ice cream place, I’ll take you. You want—”
She put a finger over his mouth and smiled into his eyes. "I get the picture." Then she kissed him. In front of Bear, Dallas, and the whole world. And she didn't care.
CHAPTER9
It tookthe Senator calling his personal physician to get someone to the house to check on her arm. Rachel insisted on taking a shower first and wrapped a bandage around her upper arm before climbing in a lukewarm shower to rinse off. Once inside the glass cubicle, she sank onto the floor and folded her good arm around her legs, then sobbed. She gave herself the time to cry, she needed it. But after she left the bathroom, she told herself, she'd be the Shadow Ops agent she was trained to be. Resilient, resourceful but not nearly as bulletproof as she'd originally thought.
A knock on the door sounded and she raised her head, wiping her nose with a wet hand. “Yes?”
“It’s me. Can I come in?” Dallas said as she opened the door a crack.
“You’re already in,” Rachel met the other woman’s eyes and felt hers fill again. Dallas closed the door and then lowered the toilet lid before sitting on it. “You okay?”
Rachel nodded, “Just reacting.”
Dallas crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the tank. “For me, it was cursing.”
“Really?” Rachel chuckled at Dallas’ expression.
"Yep. I can come out with some doozies when I'm really upset, and not just angry. If I get scared, I curse. Anxious, excited," she lowered her voice, "aroused even."
Rachel’s chuckle became a slightly giddy laugh and she realized the other woman was succeeding in calming her. She stood and, with her back to the room, finished rinsing off the dirt. Turning off the water, she saw the towel extended toward her and accepted it, wrapping it around her body. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I figured you wouldn’t want Gavin to see you yet and he was insistent on someone, him preferably, checking on you.”
