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“Allow me.” Adam stepped around Griffin and held out his elbow to Marin as if he was escorting her to a damn debutante ball.
Griffin bit his tongue. Hard. Adam taunted him with a wink over Marin’s shoulder before leading her down the hall. As much as he hated Marin’s preference for Adam right now, it was necessary. If he couldn’t have eyes on Marin twenty-four seven, Adam or Ben would. Griffin wasn’t about to trust her safety to anyone else.
CHAPTER12
Terrie handed Marin an overnight bag with clothes and toiletries the housekeeper kept in the White House for unexpected guests.
“It’s going to be okay,” she promised as she hugged Marin tightly. “Griffin will take care of this. You can trust him.”
Griffin was the last person Marin trusted right now. But since a guy with a knife was bent on harming her, Marin figured she didn’t have much choice in the matter. Clearly, Not-So-Special-Agent Keller did whatever it took to catch his man or woman—even if it meant seducing them. At least Griffin’s hunger for justice was one consolation for being dictated to by the arrogant man.
They made the trip to the safe house in one of the armored SUVs the Secret Service used to transport the president incognito. Marin was ushered out of the residence so quickly, she didn’t get to say good-bye to the First Family.
“The president and his family have been sequestered until we complete a sweep of the White House,” Adam explained, as if reading her thoughts. “But both he and Mrs. Manning are very concerned for your safety.”
Marin nodded before directing her gaze out the window. She jumped when her cell phone rang in her pocket. “Please be Diego,” she murmured.
It wasn’t. Ava’s face popped up on the screen. Adam snatched her phone out of her hands before she could answer it.
“Sorry,” he said. “But you’re going to have to cut off all contact for now.”
“But my family!”
“Your parents will be informed. The First Lady insisted on it. For everyone else, though, you’re going to have to maintain radio silence.” Adam did a double take at Ava’s picture on the screen. He wiggled an eyebrow at Marin. “But you’re welcome to give her a call and set me up with her when this is all over.”
“Too late,” Marin replied. “That’s the bridezilla. Trust me, the male species dodged a bullet. She’s taken.”
“The good ones always are,” Adam mumbled as he stuck her cell phone into his pocket.
Marin peered through the van’s blacked-out windows. They were headed into Old Town Alexandria, it appeared. The van made a series of turns before finally slipping between two row houses just blocks from the water. A garage door opened and the driver pulled inside. Adam placed a hand on Marin’s arm, stalling her from climbing out of the van until the garage door was completely closed behind them.
Adam shot her a smile that wasn’t as encouraging as it was cheeky. “Welcome to your home away from home, Marin.”
He escorted her inside the house. The first floor was a hodgepodge of bulky furniture that looked like it had come from a government warehouse. Thick drapes covered the front windows, making the narrow room feel like a cave.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this place inArchitectural Digest,” Marin quipped.
“Oh, but wait until you’ve seen the kitchen.” Adam pointed toward the back of the house.
Marin really hoped the kitchen was functional. She couldn’t imagine being trapped inside this place for hours on end and not being able to cook. Thankfully, the room was in stark contrast to the rest of the house. Bright and airy, the kitchen featured Scandinavian cabinets in pickled oak with white Corian countertops, and a shiny linoleum floor. The décor was dated, but the appliances looked passable. A comfortable looking banquette with a white Formica table dominated the eating space. Marin was happy to see the sun shining through an unblocked window.
A woman turned from the refrigerator where she was unloading groceries.
“Hi there,” she said. “I’m Agent Christine Groesch.” She gestured to the bags of food. “Griff thought you’d like to have some supplies to keep your mind off being cooped up.”
‘Griff’ again.
Marin hated the tingly sensation that came along with Griffin understanding how she’d feel being in the safe house all day. Not only that, but he’d known what would make her happy, damn it.
“Please tell me you got pizza pockets,” Adam pleaded before he began rummaging through the freezer.
“Ugh, you have a diet worse than my thirteen-year-old nephew,” Agent Groesch said. “I don’t know how you manage to pass your physical each year after eating all those processed foods.”
Adam winked at her. “Genetics, Christine. I’m blessed.”
Stepping around Adam, Marin pulled a big bag of chocolate chips out of one of the grocery bags.
Agent Groesch looked at her sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure whether chocolate chip cookies were beneath a pastry chef of your reputation.”
